The new test was indoors, within a thin hall lined with dark panels. It was warmer here, the air still and faintly metallic, like old wiring and sweat. Flickering dim lights hung overhead, and chalk lines were drawn across the floor, one for each child.
At the far end, the wall shimmered.
Then lit up.
Three glowing balls blinked into being—red, blue, green. And then three more, on the floor. Six in total. Their light pulsed gently at first, casting soft glows across the children's eager faces.
Manju stood by the door, arms folded.
"This is the Reaction Node sequence," he said. "Each ball will flash in a sequence. You hit the color. Miss a color, or hit the wrong one, and you get zapped. Easy."
The children uncoiled. A few knuckle-cracked. One massaged his fingers, grumbling something about practicing on festival games.
Kagerō did not hurry. He merely observed.
The orbs started to flash.
Red. Green. Blue. Blue. Red.
Then they were moving in an accelerating cycle.
Red-green-blue. Blue-red-blue. Green-green-red.
The older kids went first, striking with swift, broad movements. Some were wild, slapping at lights, laughing as the panels hissed and sent a low chakra jolt through their arms when they missed. Others were more focused.
Then it was Yuni's turn.
She twirled into position and tapped each light with a dancer's grace. She missed a few near the end; too much flair and not enough precision, but it was still good.
Then a new one arrived.
A gangly boy with soft features and heavy eyelids.
"Dazuro," someone grumbled behind Kagerō. "Isn't that the kid who lost his way during warmups?"
Dazuro didn't impress. His hair was too long. His shoulders were slumped. He looked like he'd sleep on his feet.
The lights burst.
Red-blue-green.
He shifted.
Every tap was just in the right place, fingers sweeping the orbs as if he knew where they would be between blinks. No flash of light, no theatrics, just smooth, steady motion. One at a time.
Even Manju flinched in surprise.
Dazuro withdrew without comment and went back to the wall, eyes half-lidded once more.
Kagerō watched him intently.
Then he was up.
He moved forward.
The lights stood taller than he had anticipated, high up against the wall and far apart. He would never reach them with speed. Short arms. A small body.
He did not attempt to go as fast as the others.
He waited.
The first grouping flashed—red, green, blue.
He hit them. Tense with measured patterns already forming in his mind.
Then again—blue, red, blue.
His hand lingered close to the next light before it flashed. He wasn't responding anymore. He was anticipating. Committing the timing, the sequence to memory. He couldn't go any quicker.
So he went smarter.
It wasn't flawless. He was sluggish. He missed a cue once, not the incorrect color, just a fraction too late.
The orb hissed. A spark bit his fingertips like nipping static.
He didn't blink.
He completed the sequence. Then moved quietly out of the way.
"Speed: low," one of the instructors whispered. "Accuracy… very high."
Manju said nothing. He simply clicked his tongue and said, "Next group."
The children went through. Some cried. Some laughed. Some were arrogant until the shocks.
Kagerō sat again against the wall, observing them all. Memorizing names, faces, responses.
Yuni spun again on her way back, giving him a wink. "Still weird."
Dazuro said nothing. He simply nodded once when their eyes crossed.
Kagerō nodded back.
By the time the next test was arranged, the sun had started leaning to the west. Shadows crept long across the practice ground, but the instructors gave no indications of quitting. Manju clapped once, hard, sharp, impatient, and gestured toward a row of highly polished wooden dummies.
Each softly glowed with chakra, their joints vibrating with pent-up memory. One at a time, they activated, moving through taijutsu poses with the smooth, deliberate ease of old campaigners. Elbows bent, knees crouched, palms cupped. Then again, even quicker.
"Flexibility Mirror," Manju said, not glancing at them. "Copy the poses. Best imitation wins."
Some of the older boys groaned. A few stretched their arms with mock flair. Yuni, however, lit up like someone had handed her candy.
She dropped into the first pose with a snap of her wrist and flowed from one form to the next with almost lazy elegance. Her braids swung behind her like a ribbon as she cartwheeled into a crouch, her limbs loose and confident.
"She's not even trying," one child whispered.
"She doesn't have to," another grumbled.
Rei, on the other hand, moved stiffly. His was a grounded, muscular body. Too grounded. He could lock stances with power but struggled to change mid-movement. He gritted his teeth as his foot lost its grip, then regained it, cautiously, angrily.
Dazuro just gazed at the dummy, then spread his arms to replicate it, slow, precise, as if he were reading the stances live. He wasn't quick. He wasn't limber. But every joint of his limbs fell into perfect place, like a puppet moved by skilled strings.
Then came Kagerō's turn.
He approached slowly.
The dummy flickered, dipping low with one leg drawn way back.
Kagerō tilted, then fell into the pose with minimal effort. His movements were small but fluid, his body untypically supple for a youth so young. Mera's morning stretches, always accompanied by her singing, had rendered him considerably more flexible than anyone had anticipated.
He couldn't do the high kicks, the flips, not really. His legs were too short. His center of balance entirely off.
But he replicated the shape of them, adapted the shape to his body, and made it flow.
As the dummy picked up speed, he started falling behind. Not for lack of memory, but for the constraints of bone and muscle. Yet he persisted, arms locked, toes splayed just so.
In the end, he bowed his head and returned to the group, breathing evenly.
"He's like a rubber rope," one chūnin whispered.
"Or a wet cat," the other said. "Keeps squirming into the correct forms."
Manju didn't say anything. He merely scratched something on his clipboard.
"Last one," he said. "Sprint and Chaos."
The training field fell silent. A narrow passageway yawned open to their right, overhead covered in low steel beams and dark paper tags. Mist curled lazily along the floor, humming with concealed chakra.
"This one is easy," Manju instructed. "Run to the end. As quick as you can. Don't stop, don't scream and don't panic."
Nobody questioned what the paper tags were for.
The initial children ran like rabbits, pounding feet and waving arms. The corridor flashed suddenly with crackling lights, with whispers that were not whispers, with a thousand voices crying out in one breath.
There were some children who screamed. One tripped and began weeping. Another survived but continued shaking uncontrollably.
Rei steadied himself, took a breath, and charged straight in. He stumbled halfway, shoulder-checked the wall, but heaved forward with a grunt. When he came out, he turned back once, with narrowed eyes and a tight mouth, but he didn't say anything.
Yuni plugged her ears as she ran. She just made it. There were tears in her eyes, but she blinked them out quickly.
Then Dazuro appeared. He strolled along as if he was running late for breakfast. Lights flashed in his face, whispers crept around his ears… and he blinked, exhaled, and continued walking.
When he stepped out, he turned to someone in general and said, "Loud."
Then sat down.
Kagerō didn't run.
He walked in, his feet making no sound. The mist rolled around his ankles like a friend from long ago.
A shriek sounded at his ear, illusion, something half-learned from scrolls of war. The flash of burning leaves, a mother calling for her child. He did not know the sound, so it was meaningless to him.
The lights flared white. Then red. A face took shape in the mist. Then disappeared.
Kagerō blinked once. Walked on.
He was not brave.
He just didn't feel it.
As he came out, one of the instructors noted something. Another leaned over to Manju.
"Creepy kid."
Manju did not react. Merely went through his list, then to the group.
"That's enough," he growled. "Back to the dorms. Same time tomorrow. Chakra testing."
A couple of the kids groaned. Some drifted away without a word. Yuni flipped a braid and waved at Kagerō as she walked away. Rei clenched his jaw, staring forward. Dazuro yawned.
Kagerō stood for another moment, hearing the rain outside the warehouse.
Then he turned, and walked off into the dusk. Looking forward to spending his time in the orphanage once he became a shinobi