The gates of the Hidden Leaf Ninja Academy stood taller than Haruki remembered.
They weren't just doors anymore, they were a threshold to something greater. His sandals clicked softly against the stone path as he crossed the courtyard, green scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, eyes wide and bright.
Other students filtered in around him, most in small groups or pairs. Some were loud, already laughing and shouting names. Others were quiet, just like him, absorbing the moment.
Haruki glanced at them all, wondering which ones he'd see again and again over the coming years. There were too many faces to remember all at once, but a few stood out. A sharp-eyed girl with dark hair tied back in a bun. A boy with an oversized scarf who kept tripping over it. And near the side, leaning against a tree, was the blonde boy Haruki had noticed during the entrance exam, Minato, he remembered.
Minato's eyes were calm as always, almost distant. But this time, they met Haruki's for the briefest moment.
Haruki nodded politely. Minato gave a slight nod in return before turning away. Nothing more. No drama. No mystique. Just another student. Haruki liked that.
The Academy bell rang loud and clear, scattering the students from their private thoughts.
Their first day had officially begun.
Instead of heading straight to their classrooms, the new students were guided into the large Academy assembly hall. It was wide and tall, with a wooden stage at the far end and banners of the Hidden Leaf village hanging from every beam.
Whispers rose around the room until a hush fell as a figure stepped onto the platform.
It was the Hokage himself- Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Haruki sat up straighter in his seat. He had never seen the Hokage this close before. The man was older than his voice sounded, with a face lined by time, but his presence filled the room like a deep flame, warm and powerful at once.
The speech lasted about fifteen minutes, but it stayed with Haruki long after.
Hiruzen didn't shout. He didn't speak like a soldier. He spoke like a teacher. A grandfather. A protector.
He talked about the Will of Fire, how it was more than just a phrase. It was a belief. That the strength of the village came from the bonds between its people. That each generation had a duty to protect the next. That a shinobi wasn't measured only by strength, but by the heart that guided it.
"You will face challenges," Hiruzen had said. "But if you carry the Will of Fire in your chest, if you remember who you fight for, then you will never truly fall."
When the speech ended, there was no clapping, only silence. The kind that came from everyone thinking deeply, from something settling quietly in their bones.
For Haruki, it was the moment he truly felt like he belonged—not just at the Academy, but to something larger than himself.
***
Inside the main classroom, Haruki found a seat near the center—close enough to see clearly, but not close enough to draw attention. The room was large, with wooden floors and wide windows that let sunlight spill across the tatami mats.
He ran his fingers along the edge of the desk. It had small grooves in the surface—marks from past students, little nicks and lines from years of dreaming and learning. This desk had stories. And now, his would be one of them.
A loud clap echoed through the room.
"Alright, everyone! Quiet down!"
A tall man strode into the room with confident steps. His flak vest was crisp, his posture perfect, but there was an easiness in his smile that settled the room quickly.
"I'm Instructor Daichi," he said. "For many of you, I'll be your homeroom teacher for the next year. For others, your first introduction to real shinobi training. Either way, welcome."
He stepped behind the front desk and placed a scroll down.
"This year," he continued, "you'll be introduced to the basics of the shinobi path. That includes physical conditioning, kunai and shuriken fundamentals, chakra control theory, teamwork exercises, and simple strategy drills."
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.
"By the end of the year, you'll understand what it means to walk the shinobi road. You won't be ready to fight in wars, but you'll understand what you're working toward. And you'll start to realize whether this life is truly for you."
Haruki's chest tightened, not with fear, but with the thrill of it. This was what he had dreamed about. This was the world he had longed to step into.
Daichi raised an eyebrow as he scanned the room.
"Let me be clear: I don't expect perfection. But I do expect effort. You'll fall. You'll fail. That's normal. What matters is whether you stand back up."
He picked up a clipboard and began calling names for attendance. As students answered, Haruki tried to place the voices to the faces.
"Arai, Haruki."
"Here," Haruki said quickly, sitting up straighter.
Daichi glanced up briefly, as if taking mental notes. "Got it."
The roll call continued, names from all kinds of families, some recognizable even to Haruki. A few Uchiha. A Hyūga girl. Even a Hatake boy who wasn't Sakumo but probably related.
And then—
"Namikaze, Minato."
"Here," came the quiet reply from the back.
Just a name. Nothing special in how it was said. Haruki smiled to himself. The Academy didn't care about mystery or stories. Everyone started the same way, on the ground, climbing.
The rest of the day was a slow stream of introductions. Daichi had each student stand up, say their name, and share why they wanted to become a shinobi.
Most answers were predictable: "to protect the village," "to be strong," "to make my family proud."
When Haruki's turn came, he stood without hesitation.
"My name is Haruki Arai," he said. "I'm from the North District. I want to become a shinobi because I believe it's the best way to protect the people I love."
Daichi nodded thoughtfully. "Simple. Clear. Sit down."
Haruki sat, hiding the way his palms had started to sweat. He had never spoken in front of so many before. But he didn't regret it.
Later, they were taken outside for a short introductory drill, a jog around the training yard, a few balance and reflex tests, nothing too serious. Just enough to gauge the class's general level.
Haruki wasn't the fastest, but he didn't fall behind. A few of the other kids laughed and shouted as they ran, clearly used to the pace. He kept his breathing even, remembering Duy's lessons.
Halfway through the balance course, the boy with the oversized scarf slipped and hit the dirt. Haruki reached out without thinking, helping him to his feet.
"Thanks," the boy grunted. "I'm Jun. Stupid scarf…"
"Maybe shorten it," Haruki offered with a smile.
Jun chuckled. "My mom made it. I'd rather fall than cut it."
Haruki nodded in understanding. "I get that."
By the end of the session, Haruki had shared a few words with several classmates. No deep bonds yet, but something was forming, something real.
***
That evening, back home, Haruki sat at the dinner table with his parents, recounting the day in animated bursts.
"And then the Hokage gave a speech!" he said, still beaming. "It wasn't short, either. But it wasn't boring. He said something about… about how we're all connected, and how we're supposed to protect each other. That's what makes a ninja strong."
Kenji exchanged a look with Mika.
"That's the Will of Fire," he said. "I heard that same speech when I was your age. Still remember parts of it."
"It felt like he meant it," Haruki said. "Like… we're not just learning how to fight. We're learning how to matter."
Mika smiled and brushed her fingers over his cheek. "You've always mattered, sweetheart."
By the end of the week, Haruki had memorized the names of at least half the class. He knew where the classroom shadows fell during lectures, which corners had the best breeze during breaks, and which students had already formed cliques.
Minato remained quiet, always focused, often reading while others chatted. He was interesting, but not unreachable. Just another kid figuring it out like the rest of them.
Haruki didn't feel behind. He didn't feel lost.
He felt ready.
And this time, he wasn't just watching from the sidelines.
He was a part of this.