Chapter 7 – Hiruzen’s Test, My Sass, and a Tree I Definitely Didn’t Break

We arrived at the gates of Konoha looking like two misfit travelers. Jiraiya with his usual lazy swagger, and me—still wearing patched rags and carrying the emotional stability of a wet scroll.

"Try not to insult anyone important," Jiraiya said, eyeing me sideways.

"No promises," I replied. "Especially if they try to hand me paperwork."

Konoha was... quieter than I expected. Not peaceful. Just tired. Like an old veteran trying to nap but people keep poking him with mission scrolls.

Vendors haggled over dango. Genin rushed errands. And everywhere I turned, there was a clipboard.

So much for the mysterious Hidden Leaf. Should've been called the Village Hidden in Paperwork.

We went straight to the Hokage Tower. Jiraiya insisted. I think he just wanted to see Hiruzen squint at me over a cup of lukewarm tea.

When we entered, the Third didn't look up at first. But when he did, his gaze locked on me like a hawk reading your browser history.

"So this is the girl," he said, steepling his fingers.

I bowed too fast, almost fell, then played it off with flair.

"Name?"

"Raika. No clan. No bloodline. No tragic violin soundtrack."

He blinked. Once.

Then dropped a thick wooden log in the middle of the room.

"Lift it with chakra."

"Do I get a prize?"

"You get to stay."

Cool cool cool.

I knelt, pressed my hands to the floor—and didn't push chakra upward. I didn't shape. I folded the pressure under the log, let the tension build beneath the wood instead of lifting it directly.

It lifted. Then tilted upright.

Not levitated.

Just... stood like the ground itself gave it permission.

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed.

"Unusual method."

"I call it strategy."

"I call it ANBU logic."

"She calls everything a win if it doesn't explode," Jiraiya added.

"That was one time."

He studied me longer. Then, without warning, tossed a kunai at my head.

I didn't flinch. Didn't block.

Instead, I let my chakra pulse down my legs and into the floor—and the kunai hit the ground two inches short.

Hiruzen blinked again.

"Your chakra misaligns."

I nodded. "It doesn't like being orderly. Like me."

"You're not going to the Academy."

"Oh thank God."

"You're past it."

Wait. That was the good kind of terrifying.

Instead of throwing me into a classroom, Hiruzen assigned me to a temporary squad under field supervision.

Real missions. Real risk. Real observation.

High scrutiny.

"What if I mess up?" I asked.

"You disappear."

"Wow. Love the supportive energy here."

He handed me a forehead protector. I held it in my hands like it might explode.

"Earn your place, Raika. Don't just pass tests. Change them."

Outside the tower, Jiraiya ruffled my hair—then pretended he didn't.

"Well," he said, "guess I'll leave you in the hands of someone who doesn't scream at toads."

"I do not scream. I object—loudly."

He smiled.

Then disappeared.

And for the first time in this life, I was alone again.

But not powerless.

Because I had a headband.

And the weight of a log that never quite stood the right way.

Enjoying Raika's journey? Drop a power stone, leave a comment, or whisper a review. 💎

Every bit of support keeps the Void walking forward.

— void_chakra