The Children Who Were Chosen

With the announcement of the selection criteria, the entire atmosphere of the Ninja Academy shifted instantly. The previous lethargy vanished, and the school's training grounds were now teeming with energetic reserve ninjas.

After finishing their final class of the day, Rikusei and Naori tidied their desks, organized their notes, and left the classroom together, heading toward their clan's district.

There weren't many people walking home with them; most chose to linger at the school. While the training facilities in the clan district might have been more complete than those at the academy, they lacked the variety of peers available for group training.

The rain had cleared, and the clouds shifted from dark to white, churning across the sky like rolling ocean waves.

Stepping over the slightly muddy ground, the air felt exceptionally crisp and clear.

Naori pouted, fretting over the state of her short blade, worried it might have been altered or stolen by someone else.

Her anxious, back-and-forth demeanor left Rikusei feeling both amused and helpless. He grabbed the girl's wrist, steering her away from the puddles reflecting the sky to ensure her fair calves wouldn't be splattered with mud and sand.

Her beautiful hair hung naturally against her black short-sleeved shirt, shimmering with a striking purple luster under the setting sun. Once she regained her composure, Naori whispered a thank you to Rikusei.

The empathetic Rikusei smiled and suggested that they could simply go to the forge and see for themselves.

"Really?"

Naori's fair hand tightened around the strands of dark hair falling over her chest. Her eyes sparkled with a light of disbelief as she asked.

"Of course."

Rikusei looked directly into her eager eyes and spoke softly, his voice like a spell, scratching at her heart and mind.

"Wait a second."

"Eh!"

"This way! It's to the southwest."

Rikusei hurriedly pulled her wrist to correct their course. The two walked along the ridges of the Konoha fields, facing the afterglow, gazing at the dew-kissed green grass as they crossed the thriving shrubbery toward their destination.

As the sunset gradually vanished behind the treetops, they could see the workshop emitting plumes of smoke. The rhythmic clanging of metal on metal echoed incessantly, startling the birds in the forest and sending them fluttering away into the distance.

Passing through the narrow forest path, the view suddenly opened up. An old man with a white beard sat with his eyes closed, leisurely enjoying the twilight under the shade of the workshop's awning, a polished smoking pipe resting on the table beside him.

Before Rikusei could speak, the white-bearded old man heard their footsteps and instantly body-flickered in front of Naori, examining her closely.

Naori blinked in confusion, looking up at the old man who was barely taller than her. Seeing his clear gaze, which held a hint of nostalgia, she curiously met his eyes.

"You're here for the short blade, aren't you? I also know you are from the Uchiha Clan." Re-clamping his pipe in his mouth, Kohei stared intently at her beautiful purple hair. He exhaled a slow puff of smoke, dropping the bombshell of their identities before continuing, "Let me introduce myself. I am Kohei, the head of the Artisan Ninja clan."

"Uchiha Rikusei."

"Uchiha Naori."

"How did you know our intentions, old man?" Rikusei asked, surprised as he studied the white-bearded elder.

Kohei looked at the two little Uchiha before him with satisfaction and gestured for them to follow. "This rare, beautiful purple hair—I saw it in the Uchiha district thirty years ago."

Inside the workshop to the left, various forged ninja tools were neatly arranged.

"Has your mother decided to stop being a ninja?" Kohei asked with a kindly expression. Seeing the girl nod, a trace of regret flickered in his eyes. He walked to the rack, held the short blade in his hands, and stroked the scabbard. "So many years have passed, yet the blade has been well-maintained. You have a good heart. I have finished reforging it."

With the short blade back in her possession, Naori's bright eyes looked incredibly serious. She solemnly hung it at her waist and thanked the old man.

"If you want to thank someone, thank yourself for having a heart that loves your blade."

Kohei puffed on his pipe, stroking his beard with a chuckle. Being able to see the ninja tools he had forged so many years ago again—that era truly was nostalgic.

The moment Tobirama had brought the short blades to him, he had recognized them. Who wouldn't recognize their own children, crafted with their own hands?

Only the scabbard and hilt had grown slightly dim with the passage of time; the snow-white blade remained exactly as it had been, unchanged.

Seeing the children of an old acquaintance, Kohei excitedly led them on a tour of the workshop. The seamless coordination of various elemental techniques left them in awe, and they didn't leave until the twilight had fully descended.

Under the starry sky, the stream shimmered with moonlight, and the faint green glow of fireflies sparkled in the forest.

The girl spoke softly about the history of the blade at her waist, her gentle, reminiscent voice lingering in Rikusei's ears. Walking on the weeds of the path and stepping on the damp soil, cool dew slid down to their ankles. Though the twilight was deep, Naori felt no fear, for with him by her side, her heart was incredibly steady.

The few days of the preliminary selection passed in a flash, and the restless atmosphere of the village and the school returned to its usual calm. Everyone was waiting in anticipation for the final list.

As part of the pre-selected group, Rikusei and Naori waited in the classroom early; they couldn't afford to be late, and they had to be early.

In truth, their classroom had been chosen as the assembly point, so they didn't need to move.

As time passed, the entire classroom gradually filled with people.

Rikusei silently counted the heads: twenty people in total, exactly one class. Their class accounted for the majority.

As expected, the Uchiha Clan had the most, with five people.

Excluding Rikusei and Naori, the remaining three were Kagami, Naka, and Baru.

From what Kagami had revealed, Rai had chosen to give up because he didn't want to travel far, and upon returning to the clan, he had apparently been hung up and soundly thrashed by his parents.

As for Danzo, Koharu, and Torifu, they were Tobirama's favorite students, so that went without saying. Looking further back, Hiruzen was sitting with his little girlfriend, acting shamelessly, though it was somewhat surprising that there was a member of the Hyuga main branch sitting in the middle of the rows.

A nepotism hire.

Rikusei, completely unaware that he was also a nepotism hire, labeled someone else as one.

Once everyone had arrived, Tobirama, dressed in casual clothes, pushed the door open and stood on the podium, looking over the personnel he had hand-picked with satisfaction.

Aside from the core descendants of each clan, the others had been selected based on their grades. There was not a shred of falsification, and he disdained such things. He waved his hand and said in a clear voice, "Rikusei, come here."

Rising from his seat, Rikusei walked obediently toward the podium, muttering to himself, Don't tell me he's going to make me go up there and give an acceptance speech first.

As it turned out, he had overthought things.

Tobirama produced a massive stack of papers from beneath the podium as if by magic, holding them in his hands with a gentle smile as he asked him to distribute them to everyone.

Once the distribution was complete, Tobirama began to explain the precautions on the papers in detail, his strong fingers gripping a piece of chalk to write the instructions on the blackboard.

No matter what happened, they were to stay close to their teacher, for he would use the Flying Thunder God technique to protect everyone; furthermore, they were not to shout or scream at the sight of ninjutsu clashing.

More importantly, they were forbidden from bringing snacks!

He circled the words "No snacks allowed" with his chalk, thickening the lines repeatedly for emphasis.

His crimson eyes gazed at them with a serious intensity; everyone caught in his line of sight felt a chill down their spines and straightened their posture, not daring to breathe too loudly. Tobirama clapped his hands together and said with satisfaction, "To reiterate, this is not a summer excursion for Natsuhi!"