Spring lingered longer than usual in the Hidden Leaf Village that year. The Academy courtyard brimmed with the pink haze of falling cherry blossoms, and the fresh scent of rain-washed earth filled the air during morning drills. To Haruki, it felt like the village itself had slowed its breath, waiting, watching, as the students of Haruki's class grew into something more than children.
For many, the third year at the Academy was a turning point.
It was the year lessons stopped feeling like games.
The year people's talents began to bloom or falter.
And the year bonds either tightened or unraveled.
Haruki had changed in small ways, ways that he didn't always notice, but others did.
He ran faster now, more fluidly, and his body no longer ached after training the way it once had. His chakra control, once shaky and uneven, had grown consistent, if not yet refined. He could form hand signs at a decent pace and was beginning to shape the outlines of his first elemental affinity, though the Academy wouldn't officially test for that.
But more than his body or skill, it was his awareness that had grown.
He noticed things.
The way Jun's eyes darted right before he charged in a spar. The way Sachi's hands twitched when she was preparing a genjutsu feint. The faint chakra pulse Noriko gave off when she was actively sensing something.
And he noticed Minato and Kushina, too.
Not in a gossipy way, more like watching two magnets slowly turning toward each other across time. They didn't talk often, not directly. But Haruki caught it: the glance Kushina gave whenever Minato's group passed theirs during break; the small tilt of Minato's head when Kushina made one of her loud, confident declarations in class.
Sometimes they were paired for drills.
Sometimes not.
But the tension, the charge, between them was unmistakable. And neither seemed to know what to do with it yet.
The class as a whole had grown closer. Arguments still happened, especially when Daichi sensei pushed them too hard or pitted them against one another in spontaneous competitions. But the squabbles now ended in mutual respect rather than sulking or tears.
Haruki's bond with Jun and Sachi had only strengthened.
Jun, brash and relentless, was starting to learn patience, not because he wanted to, but because he had to if he wanted to keep up. During chakra endurance exercises, Haruki taught him how to regulate his breathing, and Jun repaid him by helping him refine his footwork in close combat sparring.
Sachi was different, quieter in her growth, but no less impressive. She was beginning to delve into genjutsu and sealing techniques, and once stunned the class when she flawlessly disrupted a clone technique with a subtle genjutsu overlay.
"You're terrifying," Haruki had told her afterward, grinning.
Sachi raised an eyebrow. "That's the point."
The weeks folded into months.
Each assignment brought something new: basic formation drills, route scouting simulations, even a controlled field mission outside the village walls, though only within a strict radius and under supervision. That particular outing had left Haruki breathless with wonder. The real world outside the village felt bigger than he expected and more alive. More dangerous, too.
"It's beautiful," Sachi had murmured during the trek. "But I can see why shinobi are needed."
"Yeah," Jun agreed, slinging his practice sword over his shoulder. "I bet even this place has secrets."
Haruki had stared at the treetops as they moved, feeling both very small and very right at the same time.
***
One warm afternoon, Daichi sensei stopped them mid-lecture to share the results of their chakra assessments.
"Those of you showing elemental alignment," he said, "will begin basic elemental theory next year. That means tailored jutsu and chakra shaping based on your natural affinity."
He handed each student a small scroll with their assessment results.
Haruki unrolled his, heart hammering.
Primary Affinity: Fire & Earth.
He wasn't surprised. Not really. But it felt right. Natural.
Kenji and Mika beamed when he told them that evening. "Just like the village itself," Kenji said, ruffling Haruki's hair.
"Be careful with it," Mika added with a teasing smile. "Try not to set your shoes on fire next year."
***
Minato's results weren't shared publicly, but rumors flew. Some said he had lightning. Others said he had more than one affinity, which seemed ridiculous. Haruki didn't ask.
Kushina, on the other hand, announced hers before Daichi could even say anything.
"Water!" she shouted, raising her scroll over her head. "I'll blast all of you out of your seats next year!"
The class groaned and laughed.
Minato smiled quietly.
Haruki saw.
***
In late spring, they were paired up for a stealth exercise. Kushina was assigned to track Minato, and Minato had to avoid detection for as long as possible.
It didn't go well.
For either of them.
Minato moved like wind on grass, silent, clean, nearly undetectable.
But Kushina was persistent. And loud.
She didn't catch him, but she did destroy half the training area in the process and scared a nest of birds so thoroughly they dive-bombed the instructors.
Afterward, she collapsed onto the grass beside Haruki, panting.
"He's like… like a ghost made of smug," she muttered.
"You'll catch him next time," Haruki offered.
She snorted. "No, I won't. But I'll make him run harder."
Minato passed by a few minutes later, gave her a polite nod, and said nothing.
Kushina didn't look at him. But she did smile a little.
***
As the weeks slipped into early summer, Daichi began to ease the pressure. Assignments became more review-based, more reflective. The last sparring sessions weren't about winning, they were about applying everything they'd learned.
In their final group debrief, Daiki stood before them with arms crossed, a rare softness in his voice.
"You've done well this year. Better than expected."
No one spoke.
"I've seen some of you stumble, some of you soar, and all of you grow. But don't get comfortable. Growth is not a straight line. What matters is how you move forward when it bends."
A long pause.
"Next year will be harder. Not because I want to break you, but because the world won't wait for you to catch up. And the Will of Fire we talk about? It's not just words. It's the fuel that lets us burn on when everything else fades."
They listened. Really listened.
***
The last day arrived with fanfare. The Academy held a joint assembly for all third-year classes.
The Hokage himself, Hiruzen Sarutobi, stood on the central platform, flanked by jonin and senior staff.
His speech was brief, but heartfelt.
"You are not just the next generation of shinobi," he said, voice carrying across the courtyard. "You are the next generation of protectors. Each of you holds a spark of the Will of Fire, and your time at the Academy is the forge. Let it shape you, test you, temper you, but never let it extinguish you."
Haruki stood straight, wind tugging at his clothes, heart steady.
He didn't know yet what kind of shinobi he'd be.
But he knew why he wanted to become one.
***
After the assembly, students swarmed around each other, making plans for the month-long break ahead. Some would visit relatives in distant provinces. Others would train, or relax, or simply enjoy the long days of summer.
Haruki, Jun, and Sachi sat beneath the same tree they had claimed their first year, looking out over the training grounds.
"Feels weird, doesn't it?" Jun said. "Not coming here tomorrow."
"We'll be back soon enough," Sachi replied, already scribbling something into a small notebook. "We have a whole year left before the genin exams."
Haruki leaned back against the bark, watching petals drift lazily through the air.
"Still," he murmured, "we're not the same kids who walked in here three years ago."
"No," Sachi said softly. "We're not."
And with that, the third year ended, not with fireworks or grand declarations, but with a quiet understanding.
They were growing.
And the road ahead was only just beginning.