Under Examination

The morning air carried unusual tension as Hikaru made his way through Konoha's streets toward the Academy. A full week had passed since Ryōta's announcement about the comprehensive assessments, seven days filled with careful preparation and growing anxiety about the formal testing that could reshape his entire academic trajectory.

Other Academy families moved through the streets with similar purpose, parents accompanying their children with expressions that mixed pride and concern. The conversations Hikaru overheard carried different undertones depending on the district—confident discussions from the better residential areas contrasted sharply with worried murmurs from his own neighborhood.

"Remember what we discussed, Hikaru-kun," Ayako said quietly as they approached the Academy gates, her fingers smoothing down his collar with gentle but nervous movements. "These assessments are being conducted across all Academy classes. The village is looking for any overlooked talent, especially after losing Orochimaru-san."

"I understand, Onee-chan," Hikaru replied, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the leather pouch that had belonged to their father. The worn leather felt warm against his palm. "I'll focus on demonstrating adequate competence without creating impressions that could complicate things."

The Academy building buzzed with nervous energy as students and families gathered. The atmosphere was notably different between class tracks—Class A students moved with confidence, their shoulders relaxed and voices carrying easy laughter, while Class C students like himself displayed obvious anxiety, shifting their weight from foot to foot and speaking in hushed, worried tones.

"Good luck today," Ayako said, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, her own tension showing in the way her hands briefly fluttered before settling at her sides. "Whatever happens, remember that we're proud of your dedication."

After exchanging farewells with his sister, Hikaru joined the stream of students entering the building. The corridors felt charged with anticipation as classmates shared last-minute preparation strategies.

"Hikaru-kun!" Ryōta's voice cut through the noise as he approached, his excitement poorly contained beneath surface nervousness, hands wringing together as he practically bounced on his toes. "Are you ready for today?"

"As ready as anyone can be," Hikaru replied diplomatically, noting the mixture of determination and anxiety in his friend's expression—eyes bright with anticipation but jaw tight with worry.

"Nervous but excited," Ryōta admitted, unable to stand still as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I've been reviewing everything we've studied, but I keep thinking about how much more the upper-year students must know compared to us."

The observation was accurate and concerning. As first-year Class C students, they had spent most of their time on basic conditioning and elementary technique practice. Meanwhile, the Academy's six-year program meant graduating students possessed knowledge several years beyond their current level.

"Preparation and honest effort are what matter most," Hikaru offered, his own hands clenching and unclenching nervously at his sides.

As they entered their classroom, the sight confirmed the formal nature of the day's activities. Desks had been arranged in precise rows with spacing to prevent collaboration, while assessment materials were organized with military precision at the front.

"Please take your assigned seats," Koji-sensei announced, his voice carrying immediate authority that made several students straighten unconsciously. "Today's written assessments will cover fundamental subjects as well as basic shinobi theory."

The reminder that these evaluations extended beyond simple classroom knowledge sent a visible wave of tension through several students—shoulders tensing, eyes widening slightly as the reality settled in. This wasn't just about Class C material—it was about Academy-wide standards.

"The assessment consists of four sections," Koji-sensei continued, looking at his materials while students held their breath. "Mathematics and science fundamentals, basic ninja theory, village history and geography, and practical application scenarios. You'll have four hours to complete all sections."

Four hours of intensive testing would challenge both knowledge and endurance. Hikaru felt confident about his preparation but recognized that managing his performance would require careful balance. Around him, he could see classmates swallowing hard, their faces paling as the scope of the challenge became clear.

"Before we begin," Koji-sensei added, his gaze sweeping across the students like a physical weight, "these assessments cover material from the entire six-year Academy curriculum. We expect most Class C students to struggle with advanced content—this is normal and expected. Focus on demonstrating your current knowledge rather than attempting material beyond your preparation."

The mathematics section began with problems that quickly escalated beyond first-year instruction. Hikaru found himself able to handle most questions competently, though he deliberately slowed his pace to avoid standing out among his struggling classmates.

Around him, the sounds of distress were unmistakable—pencils tapping anxiously against desks in irregular rhythms, students sighing deeply as they encountered impossible problems, the rustle of paper as classmates turned pages looking for questions they could actually answer.

Ryōta looked genuinely confused by the harder problems, his brow furrowed in deep concentration while his pencil tapped anxiously against his desk. Other students left large sections blank rather than attempting mathematics they had never learned, their shoulders sagging with each skipped question.

"Calculate the trajectory needed for a shuriken to strike a target 50 meters away accounting for wind resistance and gravitational drop," read one question that combined mathematics with practical ninja applications.

Hikaru stared at the complex problem for a moment, then grimaced and shook his head. Too much thinking. I'm skipping this question, he decided, moving on to the next problem. Even though he could probably solve it, the amount of calculation required seemed excessive for a practical exam.

When the mathematics section concluded, several students appeared visibly frustrated, slumping in their chairs and rubbing their temples wearily. The break between sections provided little relief, as conversations revealed the widespread difficulty Class C students were experiencing.

"Section Two covers basic ninja theory," Koji-sensei announced as fresh booklets were distributed. "You have ninety minutes for this portion."

The theoretical questions proved equally challenging, requiring knowledge of chakra principles, technique classifications, and strategic concepts that belonged in advanced courses. While Hikaru possessed the foundation to answer most questions competently, his classmates struggled with concepts they had barely encountered.

"Explain the relationship between physical energy and spiritual energy in chakra formation," read the first major question. The prompt required comprehensive understanding that extended far beyond basic chakra awareness exercises.

As he worked through the section, Hikaru became increasingly aware of various strategies his classmates were employing. Some students wrote brief responses based on limited knowledge, their brows furrowed in concentration as they tried to stretch their understanding. Others left questions blank rather than attempting answers they weren't confident about, their shoulders sagging with each skipped question.

The history and geography section presented similar challenges, testing detailed knowledge of village development, regional politics, and strategic relationships that exceeded first-year instruction by several years.

One question caught his attention: "Analyze the political factors that influenced the formation of the Five Great Shinobi Villages and explain how diplomatic relationships affect current border tensions."

Hikaru grimaced at the lengthy political analysis required, his eyes rolling skyward involuntarily. Politics—the subject I hate the most. I'm skipping this question too, he thought, quickly moving to the next question about geographical advantages instead.

The final section presented practical scenarios that required not just knowledge but judgment. The scenarios demanded creative thinking about complex situations where clear answers might not exist.

"Your team discovers evidence of enemy infiltration in a border village, but investigation reveals the situation is more complex than initially apparent. Describe your analysis and recommended response," read one scenario that required balancing multiple considerations.

When Koji-sensei finally announced the end of the assessment period, the collective relief was audible throughout the room—deep exhales of released tension, shoulders dropping as students finally allowed themselves to relax. Students had been concentrating intensively for four hours, testing not just knowledge but endurance and thinking under pressure.

"Congratulations on completing the written assessments," Koji-sensei said with approval, his own posture relaxing slightly. "Your responses will be evaluated over the next two days. Practical assessments will begin Thursday morning—prepare accordingly."

As students gathered their belongings, conversations revealed a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and anxiety about the upcoming practical evaluations. The written assessments had been challenging but familiar in format; practical testing would require demonstration of skills under direct observation.

"How do you think you performed?" Ryōta asked as they walked home together, rubbing his temples wearily, his steps heavy with fatigue.

"I think I did okay," Hikaru replied, stretching his cramped shoulders as relief loosened the tension in his neck. "Some questions were really hard though. I skipped a bunch of them."

"I hope my responses showed I was trying even when I wasn't sure about the answers," Ryōta said, dragging his feet slightly as exhaustion caught up with him. "Some of those math problems and theory questions were way beyond what we've studied in our class."

"That was probably on purpose," Hikaru observed, his own energy returning as the stress of performance faded. "I think they want to see who knows stuff beyond our class level."

As they parted ways at their usual intersection, both boys carried satisfaction from completing a challenging evaluation while maintaining realistic uncertainty about results. The written assessments had tested their academic preparation, but practical evaluations would reveal their actual readiness for advancement opportunities.

That evening, as Hikaru shared the day's experiences with Ayako over dinner, he thought about the complex balance he had tried to maintain throughout the testing.

"You look thoughtful," Ayako observed, studying his expression as they discussed the assessment content, her head tilting slightly with curiosity. "Are you satisfied with how you handled the evaluation?"

"I think I did okay," Hikaru replied, his hands automatically folding his napkin into precise creases—a nervous habit that helped him think. "I tried my best but didn't want to look like I was showing off. The practical tests will be harder—it's harder to hide what I can do when teachers are watching me do jutsu instead of just writing answers."

"Just remember that honest capability is more valuable than artificial impressiveness," Ayako reminded him, her voice gentle but firm as she reached across to still his restless hands. "Whatever the results reveal, make decisions based on realistic assessment of your readiness rather than external pressure."

As he prepared for sleep, Hikaru felt cautiously optimistic about his navigation of the day's challenges. The written assessments had allowed him to demonstrate solid preparation while avoiding exceptional performance that might force unwanted advancement discussions.

But tomorrow would bring preparation for physical and technical demonstrations that could reveal capabilities he preferred to keep concealed. It would be much harder to hide what he could really do when the teachers were watching so closely.

Two more days of evaluation remain, he thought as he settled into bed, his mind already churning with worry. Tomorrow would bring the practical assessments—demonstrations he couldn't hide behind careful written answers.

Hikaru stared at the ceiling, his thoughts cycling through everything that could go wrong. The written test had been manageable because he could control his responses, skip questions, make deliberate mistakes. But tomorrow? Tomorrow he'd have to actually perform techniques while instructors watched every movement.

His throwing accuracy was too good. His chakra control was too stable. His taijutsu showed training no student in his class should have.

He rolled onto his side, his fists clenching under the blanket as frustration built in his chest. How was he supposed to demonstrate "adequate competence" when his body had been trained far beyond that level? How could he make his techniques look weaker without making them look fake?

The practical assessments would reveal what he really could do. And once the instructors saw that...

Hikaru closed his eyes, knowing sleep wouldn't come easily. Tomorrow would be the real test—not of his knowledge, but of his ability to hide just how much he'd been holding back.