A Game of Survival |11

[4815 Words]

Two Years Later 

Time had a way of slipping past unnoticed, folding in on itself until what once felt distant became familiar. Two years ago, Yasu had entered the academy—a five-year-old surrounded by faces just as young, just as uncertain. 

Now, at seven, the uncertainty had faded. 

Not because they were any less inexperienced, but because they had adapted. The academy was no longer new; the lessons no longer felt foreign. The awkwardness of the first year had given way to something sharper—rivalries had formed, strengths had begun to show, and weaknesses had been exposed. 

And now, as third-year students, they would face their first real trial. 

Yasu sat among his classmates in the large academy hall, surrounded by the low hum of murmured voices, the shifting weight of anticipation pressing down on all of them. At the front of the room, their instructor, a chūnin named Hiroshi, stood with his arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever. 

They were all waiting. 

Waiting for what had been drilled into their heads for weeks. 

Waiting for the announcement of pairings and the official start of the Endurance Trial. 

"The Endurance Trial," Hiroshi began, his voice cutting through the murmurs, "is a seven-day survival exercise conducted every year for third-year students. You've been taught the skills necessary to survive on your own—now, you'll be tested." 

Silence. 

Yasu already knew the rules. All of them did. They had been given the details over the past few weeks. The trial was not just a training exercise—it was an evaluation. 

The rules were simple, but the consequences were severe: 

-Each pair receives one scroll. By the end of the trial, they must have at least two. 

-Losing your scroll means failure. 

-Failure meant being held back—or worse, being removed from the shinobi program. Though there were exceptions 

-No outside help. No supplies provided. Survive or be eliminated. 

It was the kind of trial that forced students to think not just about winning, but about lasting. 

Yasu sat still, hands loosely folded in his lap, listening as Hiroshi continued. 

"Pairings have been chosen at random. You will be paired with someone from your own class. Your partner will determine a lot about how this goes for you. If you can't work together, your chances of passing drop significantly." 

The tension in the room tightened. 

Hiroshi pulled out a scroll, rolling it open before he began reading names. 

Yasu listened as his classmates were paired off one by one. Some groaned in relief, others whispered under their breath, exchanging glances with their new partners. 

Then— 

"Yasu and Daichi." 

Yasu exhaled slowly through his nose. 

Of course. 

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto Daichi, who was sitting a few seats away. 

Daichi. Of all people. 

He kept his expression blank, though his mind was already turning, cycling through what he knew. 

Daichi was stubborn, confident, and fiercely competitive. He had always been near the top of their class in combat—strong, fast, technically skilled. But that wasn't enough for him. 

Because Daichi hadn't wanted to be near the top. 

He wanted to be at the top. 

And that spot belonged to Yasu. 

For the past two years, Daichi had been chasing him. 

Trying to outmatch him, trying to outshine him, trying to prove that he was the best. But every time, Yasu remained just out of reach. His written scores, his strategic thinking, his calm precision in combat—Yasu had set the standard, and Daichi had spent the last two years trying, failing, to surpass it. 

It had been frustrating. 

Yasu knew that. He had felt Daichi's silent grudge. Not in words, not in direct hostility, but in the way Daichi fought harder whenever they were paired in drills, in the way his eyes flickered with irritation whenever Yasu gave an answer the instructors praised. 

And now they were going to be partners. 

For seven days. 

Yasu kept his expression neutral, but he could already feel the weight of the pairing. This wasn't going to be easy. Not because Daichi was weak—he wasn't. But because Daichi wouldn't want to listen to him. 

And in a survival setting? That was a problem. 

A loud sigh from across the room made it clear Daichi wasn't happy either. 

"Tch," Daichi muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand through his dark hair as he leaned back in his seat. "Just my luck." 

Yasu exhaled silently. He knew what Daichi was thinking. He had probably wanted someone who would fight alongside him, someone who would charge into conflict just as eagerly. Instead, he got the thinker. 

"Alright," Hiroshi's voice cut through the murmurs of students reacting to their partners. "Now that the pairings are set, listen carefully. The Endurance Trial is not just about how strong you are—it's about how well you can adapt. It's about how well you can work with your partner. If you fail to cooperate, you will fail." 

Yasu caught the brief glance Hiroshi cast in his direction. A warning. 

Hiroshi wasn't blind. He knew how Yasu and Daichi functioned in class. 

"Tomorrow morning, you'll leave the village and begin the trial. The moment you step outside those gates, you are considered shinobi candidates in enemy territory." Hiroshi's gaze swept over the room. "Treat this seriously. The village is watching." 

The hall fell into silence. 

Yasu folded his hands in his lap, gaze steady. 

Tomorrow, everything changed. 

. 

. 

. 

The village was far behind them now, swallowed by the jagged peaks of Iwagakure's mountainous terrain. The Endurance Trial had truly begun. 

For the first time, they were completely on their own. 

No instructors correcting their form. 

No parents ensuring they ate and slept properly. 

No guidance beyond what they'd already been taught. 

Whatever they did from this point forward—every choice, every mistake, every success—was entirely their own. 

And Yasu knew that most of their classmates weren't prepared for that reality. 

It had been drilled into them for years—shinobi don't hesitate. Shinobi survive. Shinobi endure. But learning something in a classroom and applying it in the real world were two very different things. 

He glanced at Daichi, who was moving too fast for Yasu's liking. Not reckless, but not cautious either. Daichi's approach to this trial was clear—go strong, go fast, don't stop moving. 

Yasu wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or concerned. 

"We need to slow down," he said finally, keeping pace beside him. 

Daichi snorted. "Why?" 

"Because we're burning too much energy right off the bat." 

Daichi rolled his eyes. "We just started. We're fine." 

"For now," Yasu muttered. He glanced at the sky. They had at least five hours before nightfall. 

The first day wasn't about fights or ambushes—it was about positioning. 

By now, every pair was making their own choices—some would find high ground, some would seek water, others would go straight for their first hunt. 

Some would already be hiding. 

Yasu and Daichi needed to figure out their own approach before they got too deep into this trial without a plan. 

"We need to find water first," Yasu said. "Then shelter. We don't want to be wandering in the dark." 

Daichi waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I was planning on doing that." 

Yasu highly doubted that. 

But fine. 

He let Daichi take the lead for now, falling into step behind him. 

He'd let Daichi learn the hard way. 

The first sign of trouble was a shift in the air. 

It was subtle—a quiet that didn't belong, a stillness where there should have been movement. The wind barely rustled the trees, the natural rhythm of the forest interrupted. Yasu felt it before he saw anything. 

"We're not alone." 

He didn't hesitate. 

"Daichi—" 

Too late. 

The attack came fast. 

A blur of movement from the treetops—two figures dropping down at speed, weapons already drawn. 

The first one—a boy, broad-shouldered, fast—threw a handful of shuriken, their metallic gleam catching the sunlight as they tore through the air. 

Yasu moved on instinct, feet sliding back, twisting just in time to avoid the first two—but the third cut too close. He turned his head at the last second, the sharp edge slicing through his sleeve, grazing his arm. 

At the same time, the second attacker—a girl, lean and quick—was already closing in on Daichi. 

Daichi barely managed to deflect the kunai she aimed at his chest, their blades clashing with a sharp clang! He stumbled back from the force of her strike, eyes flashing with surprise before twisting into something more dangerous. 

"Tch—!" 

Yasu landed in a crouch, mind already assessing. 

Two enemies. Unfamiliar faces. 

The three classes rarely interacted, their training kept separate. Yasu recognized the boy in passing—3B. One of their top students, if he remembered correctly. The girl was faster, but something about the way she moved told him she wasn't as physically strong. 

"The girl is quick, the boy is powerful. If they're trained well, they'll cover each other's weaknesses." 

And right now, they were already coordinated. 

The boy pressed forward, fists glowing faintly with chakra reinforcement as he swung—too strong to block outright. Yasu had no choice but to dodge, shifting left as the punch struck the dirt hard enough to crack the ground. 

"Chakra-enhanced blows. He's not holding back." 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Daichi going for a counterattack, kunai flashing as he rushed the girl head-on. 

"Mistake." 

Yasu knew it before it happened. 

The girl twisted mid-air, avoiding Daichi's strike with an effortless grace before—her hand shot forward. 

Right for his vest. 

For the scroll. 

There was a sharp, brief struggle, then— 

"She got it." 

Yasu barely had time to process before she was already moving, breaking away into the trees. 

"SHIT!" Daichi tore after her, his frustration echoing through the trees as he gave chase. 

And just like that— 

Yasu was alone. 

The boy from 3B didn't hesitate. He moved immediately, stepping forward with brutal speed, his fist already coming down. 

Yasu moved—not back, but sideways. 

His foot dug into the ground, body twisting as he closed the distance instead of retreating. 

The boy's eyes widened for half a second. 

Then—Yasu struck. 

His palm slammed up into the boy's wrist mid-strike, redirecting the momentum just enough for the punch to veer off-course. The force of it tore through the dirt beside them, but Yasu had already shifted inside his guard. 

His turn. 

Yasu aimed low—a sharp elbow to the ribs, fast and controlled—but the boy recovered quicker than expected. 

He caught Yasu's arm, gripping it hard, fingers tightening like iron. 

Yasu's instincts screamed. 

"Too strong—don't fight his grip, move with it." 

Instead of struggling, Yasu twisted, using the momentum to spin into a kick. His heel shot out, catching the boy across the jaw with a satisfying impact. 

The boy stumbled—but didn't fall. 

Instead, he grinned, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. 

"Oh, you're not bad," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. His chakra flared again. 

Yasu exhaled, fingers flexing as he adjusted his stance. 

This wasn't over. 

The boy wiped the blood from his lip, rolling his shoulders as if warming up. His stance shifted—a shift Yasu recognized. 

A jutsu was coming. 

Yasu's thoughts were split. 

He didn't have time for this. The girl had the scroll, and every second wasted here was a second Daichi spent chasing her alone. 

This fight needed to end. Fast. 

The boy smirked. "Let's see how good you really are." 

Then—his hands flew into seals. 

"Earth Release." 

The ground beneath Yasu rumbled, a sharp crack tearing through the dirt. A second later, a figure pulled itself from the earth, taking form beside the boy—a solid stone clone. 

Yasu's eyes narrowed. 

Clones. 

Not many third-years could manage them yet. Most students weren't expected to properly create any type of clone until their fourth year, since they needed to pass that exam to graduate. 

But this boy? He could. 

The clone moved first, fast—almost indistinguishable from the real one. It lunged at Yasu, its weight shifting with solid momentum. 

Yasu reacted on instinct, pivoting back as the clone's punch came down hard, leaving a dent in the ground. At the same time, the real boy rushed from the side, a kunai flashing in his hand. 

A perfect combination attack. 

Yasu ducked low, the blade whistling past his ear, and countered—a sharp strike to the ribs. 

The boy grunted but didn't break. Instead, he used the impact to twist mid-motion, his knee slamming toward Yasu's stomach. 

Yasu threw up an arm, blocking—but the force rattled his bones. 

"He's strong. Too strong for a drawn-out fight. I need to finish this now." 

Frustration twisted in his chest. 

The scroll was getting farther away. 

He didn't have time. 

A spark of something sharp ran through his fingers, his chakra stirring, awakening. 

Yasu had spent the last two years understanding himself. 

He knew his chakra nature now. 

Earth first. Lightning second. A perfect pair. 

And now? 

It was time to use them. 

The boy lunged again, kunai flashing. Yasu let him come. 

One step back. Two. 

He saw the moment the boy committed. 

That was when Yasu struck. 

He pressed his chakra into the earth beneath him, shifting the terrain just slightly. Not a full jutsu—just enough. 

The ground dipped. 

The boy's foot hit the uneven surface—a half-second misstep. 

That was all Yasu needed. 

He moved, low and fast, ducking inside the boy's guard before he could recover. 

One precise hit—an open palm strike to the throat. 

The boy's eyes widened, breath catching—stunned for half a second. 

Then Yasu twisted, driving an elbow into his temple. 

A clean hit. 

The boy collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground. 

Yasu exhaled, body still tense, scanning for movement. 

Nothing. 

It was over. 

His eyes flicked to the boy's vest, hand moving on instinct, checking for the scroll. 

Nothing. 

Yasu's stomach tightened. 

"The girl has both." 

His fists clenched. 

He turned toward the trees. 

He needed to move. 

. . . . . . . . . . . 

Daichi sprinted through the trees, feet pounding against the uneven ground, heart hammering in his chest. 

Ahead of him, the girl from Class 3B moved like a shadow, weaving effortlessly through the thick undergrowth, her form barely a flicker between the trees. 

She was fast. 

Too fast. 

And worse—she knew it. 

"What's wrong?" she called over her shoulder, voice mocking, breath steady despite the chase. "Losing steam already?" 

Daichi gritted his teeth. 

He pushed harder, forcing his muscles to burn, his breath sharp as he closed the gap. 

She wasn't invincible. She was quick, but that meant her strength had to be lacking. He just needed one good hit—just one. 

His fingers tightened around his kunai. 

She suddenly leapt forward, kicking off the trunk of a tree with a burst of momentum, flipping mid-air before landing lightly on a branch just above him. 

She stopped. 

Daichi skidded to a halt, snapping his gaze upward, muscles coiled, ready to move. 

She twirled the scroll between her fingers like it was a toy. His scroll. 

"Come on," she said, head tilting. "I expected a little more from one of 3A's best fighters. Or is all that talk just… talk?" 

Daichi's frustration spiked. 

"This isn't over," he growled. 

She smirked. "Of course not. That would be too easy." 

Then, she moved. 

Daichi's grip tightened. 

He wasn't letting her get away. Not a chance. 

Daichi moved without hesitation. 

His hand flicked forward, shuriken slicing through the air with precision. 

The first shot was a test, aimed just ahead of her—to force her to change direction. The second? Aimed directly at her legs. 

The girl reacted fast, twisting mid-air, body bending unnaturally as she narrowly dodged. But he saw it. 

A flicker of imbalance. 

There. 

Daichi surged forward, closing the distance. 

She wasn't untouchable. She could be caught. 

He launched another shuriken—this time, perfectly aimed. It cut through the air, sharp and fast—and she couldn't dodge. 

Not completely. 

Instead, she deflected—kunai flashing as she barely knocked the blade off course, stumbling as she landed. 

Daichi's eyes flashed. 

This was it. His chance. 

She was open, off-balance, within reach. 

He could end this. 

But instead of finishing it, he paused. 

A smirk tugged at his lips. Arrogance. 

"Not so quick now, are you?" His voice dripped with satisfaction. 

She was struggling, and he wanted her to know it. 

He took a step closer, towering over her, arms crossed. "You were saying something about me not living up to my reputation?" He scoffed. "Go on. Keep talking." 

Her fingers twitched. 

And by the time he noticed, it was too late. 

She moved. 

A kunai flashed—sharp, precise—and pain tore through his arm. 

Daichi staggered back, eyes wide, blood soaking into his sleeve. 

The girl grinned, breathless. 

"Lesson one," she said, voice mocking, tilting her head. "If you're gonna gloat, make sure your enemy is actually beaten first." 

Daichi's jaw locked. 

His own pride had cost him. 

Daichi's arm throbbed, blood trickling down his sleeve as he clenched his fist. His pride stung just as much as the wound. 

The girl was still grinning, despite being out of breath, her eyes glinting with amusement. She thought she had won something. 

Daichi was about to wipe that smug look off her face— 

But then— 

It happened fast. 

A flicker of movement. A blur of raven hair and sharp precision. 

Yasu. 

Daichi barely saw what he did. 

One second, the girl was free, standing, and the next— 

The earth swallowed her whole. 

It was too clean, too efficient. 

Yasu had moved without hesitation, his hands forming a quick, deliberate seal sequence—and the ground responded. 

Stone shot up, thick slabs of earth rising like hands from below, twisting around the girl's legs, then her arms, locking her completely in place. 

It wasn't just a trap—it was absolute containment. 

The girl's grin vanished. 

Daichi's breath hitched, his frustration momentarily forgotten as he watched the sheer efficiency of it. 

"He didn't even hesitate." 

Yasu didn't pause, didn't check his work—he knew she wasn't getting out. 

With that same calm, effortless control, he stepped forward, plucking both scrolls from her pouch as if he had all the time in the world. 

The girl sighed. "Well. That's annoying." 

Yasu tilted his head, studying her. "You're fast." 

She huffed. "And you're annoying." 

Instead of responding to that, Yasu glanced her over, assessing something. His gaze flickered downward, then back up, his brows slightly furrowing. 

"Do you use weights?" he asked. 

Daichi blinked. What kind of question was that? 

The girl looked at him warily before sighing again. "Yeah. So?" 

Yasu's interest sharpened. "I don't see anything bulky on you." 

The girl narrowed her eyes. 

Yasu's gaze lingered on her legs, as if mapping something out in his head. "They're chakra-infused, aren't they?" 

Daichi groaned loudly. "Are you seriously having a conversation right now?!" 

Yasu barely spared him a glance. 

"I'm dying, Yasu." 

Yasu raised an eyebrow. 

Daichi gestured wildly at his arm. "Bleeding out. Losing feeling. Seeing the light." 

Yasu looked unimpressed. "It's a cut." 

Daichi scowled. "A serious cut." 

Yasu sighed, tucking the scrolls into his pouch. "You're fine." 

"I am not fine!" Daichi snapped. 

The girl's flat, unimpressed sigh carried through the trees, frustration evident in every breath. "Great. I lost to these idiots." 

Daichi snapped first. "Tch—shut up! You're the idiot for losing in the first place!" 

Yasu, however, didn't react. Didn't flinch. Didn't frown. 

Instead, he simply looked at her. 

Cool. Unbothered. Almost amused. 

"We now have two scrolls," he said lightly, slipping the stolen one into his vest. His voice was casual, but the weight behind the words was anything but. 

The girl's jaw tightened. 

Daichi's scowl deepened. "Damn right we do." 

But Yasu wasn't done. His gaze lingered on her, steady and knowing. 

"Two is the minimum to pass," he continued, voice almost thoughtful, as if stating something she should have already realized. 

The implication settled in the space between them. 

They had already won. 

This fight? This confrontation? It was already theirs. 

And she knew it. 

The girl exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. She wasn't angry—not exactly. But she hated being outplayed. 

Yasu didn't gloat. Didn't need to. 

The results spoke for themselves. 

"Let's go," he said, already turning away. 

Daichi spat another insult under his breath, but followed. 

And just like that, they left her behind. 

. 

. 

. 

Night had fallen, stretching deep and quiet over the trial grounds. The sky above was clear, studded with stars, and the air held a crisp chill, the kind that sunk into the bones if one stayed too long on the ground. 

Which was why they weren't on the ground. 

Yasu had insisted on it. "Sleeping in a tree keeps us out of sight," he'd said, already climbing. "Harder to track, harder to ambush." 

Daichi had grumbled but followed. Because after what happened today, he wasn't about to argue with another good idea. 

Now, they sat perched on sturdy branches, bodies balanced against the rough bark, their bags secured, their exhaustion creeping in. 

But just as Daichi was about to settle in—Yasu started talking. 

It wasn't aimless talking. It wasn't casual talking. 

It was a full-fledged breakdown of strategy. 

"We have two scrolls now," Yasu began, voice even. "That gives us options. If both of us carry one, we split the risk—if someone tries to take one, they won't get both at once." 

Daichi exhaled through his nose, already half-dreading where this was going. 

Yasu continued, completely unfazed. 

"But we can also use them to our advantage. Other teams don't know we have two. If we make it seem like we only have one, we can use that to lure people in—set a trap." 

Daichi resisted the urge to groan. He just wanted to sleep. 

But at the same time… 

Damn it. 

Yasu was right. 

"And tomorrow morning," Yasu went on, shifting slightly against the trunk, "we need to move early. Most teams won't want to fight at night. Too risky. But once morning comes, people will start hunting again. That means—" 

"That means we should move first, yeah, yeah," Daichi muttered, forcing himself not to sound too impressed. 

But Yasu wasn't finished. 

"There are still a lot of teams left," Yasu continued, fingers lightly tapping against his knee. "We don't need to take unnecessary fights, but we should at least find out who has extra scrolls. Some teams might already be desperate, meaning they'll be easier targets—tired, careless, or too aggressive. We can use that." 

Daichi tilted his head back against the bark, staring at the sky. "This sounds like a damn lecture." 

Yasu didn't stop. Didn't even slow down. 

"And if we can take at least one more scroll, we have leverage. With three, we're not just surviving—we're ahead. And we can decide how to play it. Do we hold onto them, make ourselves targets? Or do we set something up—trade, trick, trap?" 

Daichi sighed heavily. He wanted to be annoyed. He really did. 

But the problem was— 

Everything Yasu was saying made sense. 

Daichi had no better plan. 

Especially after today. 

Especially after the embarrassment of nearly losing their scroll. 

That girl had gotten the better of him. Yasu had been the one to fix his mistake. And that? That stung. 

So Daichi didn't argue. Didn't agree either—he had too much pride for that. 

Instead, he muttered, "If you don't shut up soon, I'm pushing you out of this tree." 

Yasu hummed lightly. Amused. 

But, finally—he fell silent. 

Daichi closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax. 

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. 

. 

. 

. 

The fire crackled softly, a thin column of smoke curling into the sky. 

Yasu watched it rise, his eyes half-lidded in thought. It was unavoidable. A fire meant smoke, and smoke meant visibility. It wouldn't take much for another pair to track them down. 

But that was fine. 

They wouldn't be staying here long. 

He turned his attention back to the rabbit roasting over the flames, carefully rotating it on the spit. The scent of cooked meat filled the cool morning air, mixing with the damp earth and lingering scent of smoke. 

Across from him, Daichi sat slouched against the base of a tree, eyes heavy, expression sour. 

He looked like hell. 

There were dark bags under his eyes, a sluggishness in his movements as he watched the rabbit cook—or rather, burn. 

But what he was really looking at was his pouch. 

Empty. 

No more water. 

Yasu didn't comment, but he noticed. 

Daichi let out a loud sigh, shifting uncomfortably. "You know, if you're going to feed me, you could at least try not to turn it into charcoal." 

Yasu hummed, unbothered. "Maybe you should have woken up earlier and cooked it yourself." 

Daichi scoffed but didn't argue. He was too tired for that. 

Yasu sat cross-legged, glancing at their surroundings, assessing. 

Their tracks from last night were still visible—they'd need to cover them before moving. The stream wasn't far, and while they could refill their pouches there, it was too exposed. 

They needed a plan. 

And Yasu had one. 

"Daichi," he said, finally breaking the silence. "I have an idea." 

Daichi cracked an eye open. "Oh great. More lectures." 

Yasu ignored him. 

"We set a trap." 

That got Daichi's attention. His posture straightened slightly, but he didn't interrupt. 

Yasu continued, voice even, thinking aloud as he pieced it together. 

"Most teams are still searching for scrolls. We have two. If we make it seem like we only have one, we can bait them in." He paused, glancing at Daichi. "Think about it. A lone student, injured, without a teammate, sitting on a single scroll—who wouldn't take that chance?" 

Daichi frowned slightly, but he was listening now. 

"We let them see the scroll," Yasu went on, laying it out methodically. "We make it look too easy. The kind of setup that makes them think they have the advantage. They'll engage, believing it's a simple fight, two against one." 

Daichi leaned forward slightly, the gears in his head turning. "And then we jump them." 

"Exactly," Yasu said. "Ambush. They think they're attacking a single target, but the moment they go in for the scroll—" he smirked slightly, "—they lose everything." 

A slow grin spread across Daichi's face. "Now I like the sound of that." 

But Yasu wasn't done. 

"We can make it even better," he mused. "A clone. Not a real person. They attack thinking it's a lone shinobi, but when they strike—it vanishes. That half-second of confusion? It's all we need to turn the fight in our favor." 

Daichi blinked. "Wait—" His expression shifted, as if realizing something. "You can make clones?" 

Yasu gave a small shrug. "A basic one." 

Daichi scowled. "Why didn't you use it before?!" 

"Because I didn't need it before," Yasu said simply. 

Daichi grumbled but didn't argue. 

Because—damn it, this was actually a good plan. 

He wouldn't say that, of course. 

But after yesterday, after almost losing their scroll, after Yasu getting it back instead of him… 

Daichi knew he had nothing better to offer. 

Yasu leaned back slightly, exhaling. "We pull it off right, and we don't just keep our scrolls—we take another." 

Daichi's grin returned, sharp. 

"Alright, genius. Let's make someone regret getting out of bed today." 

Yasu turned the rabbit slightly, ensuring it cooked evenly—not that Daichi was paying attention. His teammate looked a little more awake now, the plan clearly sparking some interest. 

Without missing a beat, Yasu replied, "There aren't any beds out here." 

He didn't say it to be smart. It was just a fact. 

Daichi stared at him for a moment before exhaling sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "I swear, sometimes I can't tell if you're messing with me or if your brain just works like that." 

Yasu blinked. "Like what?" 

Daichi groaned. "Never mind." 

Yasu let it go, instead focusing back on the plan. Trick the enemy. Lure them in. Take everything from them before they even realize what happened. 

It was deception at its finest. 

And Yasu found himself liking the idea more and more. 

Yasu stared into the fire, calculating. 

There were roughly sixty students out here. Three third-year classes, about twenty students each. That meant thirty pairs. 

And thirty scrolls. 

His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, thoughts shifting. 

They only needed two to pass. 

But… 

"How many could we get by the end of the week?" 

It wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about control. The more scrolls they had, the more they could dictate who passed and who failed. 

Yasu hummed to himself, considering. 

Daichi raised a brow. "What's with that face?" 

Yasu glanced at him. "I was just thinking… there are thirty scrolls out here." 

Daichi blinked. "…Yeah?" 

Yasu tilted his head slightly. "I wonder how many we can take before the trial ends." 

Daichi grinned. 

"Now that's the kind of thinking I like."