The Calm Before the Storm: Three Players Make Their Final Moves

The final day of the countdown.

The corridors of the Konoha Ninja Academy were three decibels quieter than usual.

It was not that no one was talking—it was that everyone had automatically lowered their voices. Tomorrow was the graduation exam. A strange atmosphere filled the entire school building, like the air before a storm, so oppressive it tightened people's chests.

The variety of reactions in the classroom was quite interesting.

A few students in the front row who usually had good grades were frantically flipping through their textbooks, muttering as they memorized the Shinobi World history timeline—the First Shinobi World War had started how many years ago in Konoha?

The taijutsu specialists in the middle rows were secretly loosening their wrists and ankles beneath their desks, keeping their movements small enough to avoid being noticed by the teacher.

Some people in the back row had simply slumped over their desks and played dead. Their eyes were shut, a string of drool hanging from the corners of their mouths. Stress-induced surrender—Yan had seen that mindset countless times in exam halls in his previous life.

Minato sat by the window in the front row, with a notebook spread open on his desk. But Yan noticed that his gaze was not on the notebook—it was fixed on the training ground outside. Several upperclassman shinobi were warming up before a mission. Minato watched their movements for a long while.

He was learning.

Learning at every moment.

This guy's hunger to learn was not fire—it was magma. It burned constantly, never stopping.

Yan sat in his seat with an entirely bare desk, not even a notebook on it. His eyes were closed. He was not playing dead—he was using Observation Haki at low power to scan the distribution of presences inside and outside the classroom.

Two ANBU agents were on the roof outside the school building. Fixed positions.

An Uchiha lookout was pretending to trim the shrubs at the edge of the training ground. His technique was clumsy—the way he held the shears was not how a gardener would hold them, but more like someone used to gripping a kunai.

As for Root—

They were still nowhere to be found.

At least, there were none within the 160-meter range of his Observation Haki.

But Yan had no intention of lowering his guard. That snake Danzo never made a sound before biting.

The morning class was boring enough to explode. The substitute chunin teacher spent an hour onstage explaining "graduation exam precautions," yet failed to say anything of substance. It was nothing but nonsense like "don't be late," "bring your ninja tools," and "lethal ninjutsu is forbidden during the exercises."

Yan nearly fell asleep.

During the break.

An Uchiha substitute teacher appeared at the classroom door.

He was not there to teach—he crooked a finger at Yan.

In the corridor.

The substitute teacher was very polite. A hundred times more respectful than the way those Uchiha had looked at Yan when he had first entered the academy. The magic of interests.

"This is for you." He handed over a sealed scroll.

The scroll was not large, only palm-length, wrapped in a layer of dark blue cloth. The cloth bore a wax seal—a red-and-white fan. The seal of the Uchiha clan head.

Yan opened it.

Inside was a thin sheet of paper with only one line written on it. The brushwork was crisp and decisive.

"Tomorrow's exercise, there is no need to hold back. Let everyone see how fiercely the flames of the Uchiha should burn."

—Uchiha Fugaku.

Yan looked at it for three seconds, then folded the paper and put it back into the scroll.

"Received," he told the substitute teacher. "Please thank the clan head for me."

The substitute teacher nodded and left.

Yan leaned against the corridor wall and lightly tapped the surface of the scroll with one finger.

Fugaku.

Put plainly, this letter meant—"Your performance tomorrow represents the honor of my Uchiha clan. If you don't deliver, everything I invested in you before will have been wasted. Go all out."

A pass issued under the drive of profit.

It was not concern, nor was it encouragement. It was an investor pushing for project progress.

But that was exactly what Yan needed.

He had already intended to reveal part of his hand during the exercise. But revealing it on his own initiative and revealing it with the clan head's authorization were two different things. The former would make Fugaku feel things were out of control, while the latter would make Fugaku feel he was controlling the board.

Making the boss think everything was under his control—the most important survival skill in project work in his previous life.

Yan stuffed the scroll into his ninja tool pouch.

Then he returned to the classroom.

The final class of the afternoon.

The substitute chunin teacher stood at the podium with a sheet of paper in hand.

"Let's confirm tomorrow's graduation exam process."

The whispers in the classroom stopped at once. Everyone's attention focused on the podium.

"First round: written exam. The scope includes Shinobi World history, basic ninjutsu theory, and an introduction to chakra. You will have an hour and a half."

Several students in the back let out low groans.

"Second round: Three Basic Techniques assessment. Transformation Technique, Substitution Technique, Clone Technique. Each will be assessed individually, and everyone gets three attempts. Those who fail all three attempts will be eliminated."

Three chances. Enough. Yan's Clone Technique had improved by more than one level during the past week's training—while it was still not as textbook-perfect as Minato's, it was more than enough to pass.

"Third round: combat exercise."

The teacher's tone paused subtly here.

"The combat exercise will mainly use—" He glanced at the paper in his hand as though confirming something, "drawn matchups."

The classroom breathed a sigh of relief. Drawing lots was fair.

"But—"

That one word immediately tightened everyone's nerves again.

"In certain matches, opponents may be assigned by the examination committee."

The classroom erupted.

"Assigned? What does that mean?"

"Who'll be assigned?"

"Didn't they say we'd draw lots?"

The buzzing discussions were like poking a hornet's nest. Everyone was guessing who would receive special treatment.

Yan remained seated without moving.

He did not need to guess.

The examination committee. To put it bluntly, it was the result of the Third Hokage making the final call, Danzo "making a suggestion," and Fugaku "not objecting." All three wanted to see him fight Minato—their motives differed, but their conclusion was the same.

The Third Hokage wanted to assess his true combat strength.

Danzo wanted to see his hidden cards.

Fugaku wanted to see him "display the fierceness of Uchiha flames."

Three people had pushed the same piece from three different angles.

How convenient.

That piece wanted to be pushed too.

The dismissal bell rang.

The classroom became a noisy mess. The students gathered in small groups to discuss tomorrow's arrangements. Whose shuriken accuracy was highest, whose Clone Technique was most stable, who was most likely to take first place in the ninja class.

Minato packed his bag and walked over from the front row.

He did not join anyone's discussion. Instead, he went straight to Yan's desk, bent down, and leaned close to Yan's ear.

"If it's you and me tomorrow—don't hold back."

His voice was very soft. Only the two of them could hear it.

Yan turned to look at him.

"You too."

They held each other's gaze for two seconds.

Golden eyes and black eyes. Light and shadow.

Minato moved first—he held out his right fist.

Yan tapped it with his own.

Fist against fist. The force was light, but the contact through their knuckles was solid, like two stones gently knocking together.

Minato smiled, turned, and left.

Yan watched his back disappear through the classroom door.

That golden head bobbed once in the corridor light before being swallowed by the crowd.

He lowered his gaze to his right fist.

A trace of warmth remained on the knuckles that had touched.

All right.

See you tomorrow.

At dusk.

Yan did not go spar.

Today was the final day. His body needed rest. His mind needed to settle. His stamina needed to be fully replenished.

He returned to the dilapidated house at the edge of the clan grounds. When he pushed open the door, the air inside was exactly the same as when he had left—cold, moldy, carrying the scent of old wood.

The bed was still that creaking wreck. The blanket was still that shabby, thin thing light could pass through.

But the window had been replaced.

The Third Hokage's people had come to repair it. The shattered glass had been cleared away and replaced with new transparent panes. The window frame had also been reinforced—the screws were standard issue, the work of ANBU logistics.

Yan sat on the bed.

He closed his eyes.

Observation Haki fully activated. One hundred and sixty meters.

ANBU Cat Mask—eighty-five meters away, on a rooftop.

ANBU Eagle Mask—one hundred and five meters away, at the alley entrance.

Uchiha lookout, Uchiha Yan—one hundred and twenty meters away, along a Military Police Force patrol route. He was on patrol, but his route deliberately passed Yan's residence.

Root—

None within 160 meters.

Beyond 160 meters—unknown.

Enough.

Yan withdrew his Observation Haki, lay down, and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

The blanket was thin. Far less warm than the smoke-scented one in the Hokage Building.

But this was his own bed.

He took deep breaths. Once. Twice. Three times.

His heartbeat dropped from seventy-two to sixty-four. His muscles relaxed, starting from his toes, releasing group by group all the way to his scalp. A relaxation technique he had learned in his previous life—he had relied on it every day to sleep through periods of intense workplace pressure.

In the darkness, Yan kept his eyes closed.

He was not nervous.

Everything that needed preparation had been prepared. Every hidden card that needed hiding was hidden. The parts that needed revealing had been planned out as well.

The rest could be left to tomorrow.

His consciousness began to blur.

His final thought before he slipped into sleep was not about the graduation exam.

Nor was it about Danzo or Fugaku.

It was—

Would Minato bring those rice balls salty enough to cure fish again tomorrow at noon?

If he did, Yan definitely would not eat a second one.

Definitely not.

...Probably.

Late at night.

The lights of Konoha went out one by one.

The streets were empty. The night wind passed through the gaps between rooftops, making a low moaning sound.

The light on the top floor of the Hokage Building was the last to go out.

Hiruzen Sarutobi stood before the window.

A pipe rested at the corner of his mouth, the red glow of its tobacco flickering in the darkness. He was not wearing his Hokage robes—at this hour, there was no need. He wore an ordinary gray kimono, his hair loose, looking like nothing more than an ordinary middle-aged man working late into the night.

A stack of documents lay spread across the desk.

The top one was the final roster for tomorrow's graduation exam.

He picked it up and glanced at it. The final line on the list was marked in scarlet ink with a special match arrangement.

"Assigned Match: Uchiha En VS Minato Namikaze"

Two documents were attached beside it.

One was a "proposal" Danzo had submitted through an intermediary. Its wording was very tactful—"Given that both students have displayed potential exceeding that of their peers, it is recommended that they undergo a direct evaluation during the public examination to facilitate the formulation of future training plans."

Put plainly: I want to see exactly what Uchiha En is made of. If you won't let me watch in the shadows, then let me watch in the open.

The other was Fugaku's stance, relayed verbally through an Uchiha clan representative—"The clan head has no objection to this arrangement."

Put plainly: Just what I wanted. Let all of Konoha see how valuable my Uchiha's new investment is.

The three sides had reached a consensus.

Rare indeed.

Hiruzen Sarutobi put the document back on the desk and took a puff from his pipe.

A consensus was good.

Unity meant that the three sides' interests did not conflict in this matter, at least for the time being. No conflict meant no one would pull any tricks on the day of the exam.

At least, not inside the exam venue.

Outside the venue?

The old man's gaze swept over the nightscape beyond the window. Konoha's rooftops gleamed with a cold, silvery light beneath the moon. In the distance stood the outline of Hokage Rock—four faces were meant to be carved there, but only three were finished. The fourth was still blank.

Minato's face would be carved there someday.

If everything went smoothly.

He took the pipe from his mouth and tapped out the ash.

"Uchiha Yan..."

He repeated the name once.

Twelve years old. An unknown, extraordinary power within his body. Extremely poor chakra talent, yet sensory abilities surpassing those of most jonin. A mind far too deep for someone his age.

Most crucially—Danzo wanted to take him. Fugaku wanted to use him. Jiraiya was observing him. Minato Namikaze considered him his best friend.

Four forces were pulling at the same twelve-year-old child.

If Yan were an ordinary pebble, those four forces would crush him into dust sooner or later.

But he was not a pebble.

He was a flame.

Hiruzen Sarutobi could not be sure whether that flame would ultimately light up Konoha or burn it down.

But he chose to gamble.

He gambled on what he had seen in that twelve-year-old's eyes when he said, "Let the old lady who sells dango keep selling dango"—not an act, not calculation, but a kind of clumsy, unpolished sincerity.

The old man extinguished the last ember in his pipe.

Then he turned and switched off the light.

At the same time.

The main house of the Uchiha clan compound.

Moonlight fell over the stone path in the courtyard, turning it silver-white.

Uchiha Fugaku stood on the corridor outside the main hall. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture straight. In the moonlight, his figure cast a long shadow.

Several low voices came from the room behind him. Three or four Uchiha elders had gathered there, each wearing a different expression.

An elder with a gray goatee stepped forward half a pace. He kept his voice low, as though afraid someone outside the corridor might hear.

"Clan Head, are we really going to let that child use that kind of power in public? What if it draws attention from even more parties...?"

Fugaku did not turn around.

"Being watched—"

He paused.

Moonlight split his profile into light and shadow.

"Means you are worth watching."

His voice was not loud, but it carried weight.

"Only pieces with no value should worry about being discarded."

The elders fell silent.

Only the wind passing beneath the eaves remained in the corridor.

Fugaku looked at the shadow of the old pine tree in the courtyard. Its needles did not stir in the moonlight.

He was gambling.

Gambling that Uchiha Yan, this chess piece, held enough value. Enough that the Third Hokage would not be willing to hand him over to Danzo, enough that Danzo would not dare destroy him lightly, enough that everyone would have to acknowledge—the Uchiha clan had not yet reached the point of being pushed to the margins.

As for whether this chess piece would eventually turn around and devour the player—

Fugaku clenched the hand behind his back.

That was a matter for later.

For now, tomorrow's graduation exam was the priority.

Farther away.

Konoha's northwestern corner. Underground.

An unmarked passage descended twenty meters below the surface.

The lights were dim, the air murky, and the walls covered in damp stains.

Danzo sat in a wooden chair. His right hand rested on a cane, his left on the armrest. His face was hidden in shadow, with only the bandages around his chin exposed to the light.

A Root member stood before him.

Kneeling.

"Confirmed. In tomorrow's graduation exam, Uchiha Yan and Minato Namikaze have been arranged as designated opponents. The examination committee roster has been finalized. The ANBU guard deployment remains unchanged."

Danzo did not move.

The tip of his cane lightly tapped the stone floor. The dry sound produced a faint echo through the underground passage.

"What about security at the venue?"

"Personally approved by the Third Hokage. Four ANBU will rotate shifts within three hundred meters of the venue. The outer perimeter will be patrolled jointly by Konoha's military police."

"The spectator stands?"

"Special seats for the higher-ups have been arranged. The Third Hokage will attend in person. Lord Jiraiya—"

Danzo's fingers twitched.

"Jiraiya will be there too?"

"According to intelligence, Lord Jiraiya has been frequently appearing around the Ninja Academy and the Forest of Death recently. It is presumed that he intends to observe the performance of his disciple, Minato Namikaze, and Uchiha Yan."

Danzo remained silent for five seconds.

Then he said one thing.

"Do nothing tomorrow."

The Root member raised his head. There was no expression in the eyes behind his mask—Root members were not permitted to have expressions.

"Lord Danzo?"

"The Third Hokage, Jiraiya, Uchiha Fugaku—three people watching a single graduation exam at once." Danzo's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Making a move under that level of scrutiny would be foolish."

His cane tapped the ground again.

"Just watch. Watch his level of ability. Watch his combat patterns. Watch where his weaknesses lie."

"And then?"

Danzo did not answer the "and then."

He rose from the chair, his cane supporting his weight. After taking two steps, he stopped.

"One more thing—watch Minato Namikaze."

"Minato Namikaze?"

"Jiraiya's disciple. Uchiha Yan's friend." With his back to the Root member, Danzo's voice drifted through the dim passage. "The most effective way to control a blade is not to grip its hilt—"

He did not finish the sentence.

But the Root member understood.

—It was to hold the sheath.