“Huh?”
Obito’s face fell.
He knew his performance wasn’t perfect—especially regarding the sword.
When did Sensei get a sword? It was just the hilt sticking out. Who could have noticed that?
“Kyoichi-sensei, isn’t this a bit too strict?” Yuhi Shinku asked softly.
Obito’s performance might fall short compared to a Chūnin, but for a Genin, it was already excellent.
“No. Konoha could face war at any mont, so high standards are necessary,” Kyoichi replied firmly. “Obito, if this were the battlefield, I’d need your Transformation Technique to deceive the enemy. At your current level, you’d already be exposed.”
Obito nodded repeatedly, not daring to argue.
As he reflected on his performance, a sudden noise broke his train of thought. Reacting instinctively, he ford hand seals for the Substitution Technique.
Thunk, thunk, thunk—
Several pieces of chalk struck the wooden log left by his substitution.
“If this were the battlefield, you’d already be injured. That’s enough. Leave now and don’t discuss this test with the others, or you’ll fail automatically.”
“Yes!”
Obito’s mood wavered between hope and despair as he left. He didn’t dare ask if he had passed. After all, he’d been late.
Once Obito was gone, Tekuno glanced at Kyoichi, looking puzzled. Finally, he couldn’t help but ask, “Kyoichi-sensei, don’t you think your standards are a bit too high?”
“No. They’re capable of eting these standards. If they fail, it’s a matter of mindset. A student with poor psychological resilience will only be a liability on the battlefield.”
“Uh...”
Capable of eting these standards?
Elite Genin? All of them?
Even so, this was far beyond the normal standards for a graduation exam. Tekuno resisted the urge to complain.
If these were the standards when I graduated, I wouldn’t have stood a chance!
The first part of the exam—combining the Transformation and Clone Techniques—wasn’t just a test of ninjutsu proficiency but also of observation and analytical skills. Obito’s performance was far from perfect.
And yet, his abilities still surpassed most Genin.
Perhaps this is the privilege of being from a notable clan, Tekuno thought.
The next candidate entered.
“Raito Namida.”
Upon seeing Kyoichi, Namida hesitated briefly.
If it were another teacher, passing would have been a breeze. But with Kyoichi, it wasn’t guaranteed.
“The sa rules. Begin.”
“Yes!”
Namida quickly activated his chakra, seamlessly executing the Transformation and Clone Techniques.
Tekuno was surprised by how flawlessly Namida combined the two techniques.
But Kyoichi still found fault—with the sword.
Again, it was the hilt barely visible.
Who would notice sothing like that?
Despite this minor detail, Namida’s Substitution Technique was perfect.
Even the civilian students in this group demonstrated exceptional skill.
Tekuno was shocked beyond words.
The next few civilian candidates perford similarly. Without exception, they t or exceeded Kyoichi’s demanding standards, often surpassing those from notable clans.
“Does this an Obito is really at the bottom?” Yuhi Mako murmured.
“That’s not fair to say. Obito is straightforward and doesn’t excel in subtlety. His strength lies in large-scale ninjutsu and shurikenjutsu, making him better suited for direct combat,” Kyoichi explained, sipping his water.
Hiruzen’s team placents were carefully considered.
In Minato’s team, Obito and Rin would handle frontal engagent and support, while Kakashi specialized in assassination and precision strikes. Each mber’s abilities and styles complented the others perfectly.
Of course, this was an elite team.
Most standard teams didn’t have such ticulous balance, and all-taijutsu teams like Guy’s were rare exceptions.
“Large-scale ninjutsu? You an Fireball Jutsu?” Yuhi Mako quickly grasped Kyoichi’s implication.
Kyoichi nodded, prompting a brief silence between Mako and Tekuno.
Obito might appear to be underperforming, but his core strength placed him above many candidates.
However, his weak foundational skills were undeniable.
By the midpoint of the exam, both examiners were increasingly astonished.
This year’s class was exceptional!
Whether from notable clans or civilian families, the students demonstrated far greater proficiency than previous cohorts. In so cases, civilian students even outperford clan heirs in the Three Basic Techniques.
Frankly, aside from their lack of experience, these students were already on par with Genin.
The reason?
It wasn’t raw talent.
Every class might have a few standout prodigies, but overall abilities rarely varied significantly from year to year. The difference lay in the teaching.
Kyoichi Kanda.
In just one month, he had transford these students from ordinary academy kids into near-Genin-level ninjas.
Incredible.
Yuhi Shinku, a seasoned ntor for Genin and Chūnin, understood just how difficult this feat was. Most Jōnin couldn’t achieve it.
How had Kyoichi done it?
After the exams, Shinku couldn’t hold back any longer. “Kyoichi-sensei, may I ask how you teach? Why are your students so universally skilled?”
This was a mixed-grade class, with more students than usual.
And yet, Kyoichi had managed to teach them all effectively. It was almost unbelievable.
“It’s simple, really. Teach a few of them thoroughly, then let them help teach the others. Progress leads, others follow,” Kyoichi said with a smile.
A unique teaching thod!
Yuhi Shinku felt a twinge of disappointnt.
This approach worked well in the academy but couldn’t easily be applied to Genin or Chūnin, who were already set in their ways. Peer instruction in those groups often introduced errors.
However, for the academy level, the potential was significant.
“Could this thod be standardized for the academy?”
“It wouldn’t work with regular academy instructors. But if you brought in Jōnin instructors for the final month before graduation, it’d be like pre-deploynt training for Genin,” Kyoichi suggested without hesitation.
“Jōnin instructors at the academy? For pre-graduation training?”
Yuhi Shinku stared in stunned silence.
It was a completely novel idea—but it seed feasible.
Most academy instructors were Chūnin. While capable, they often lacked the authority or experience to inspire students. Jōnin instructors were a different story.
And Kyoichi’s success proved the concept.
In just one month, he had achieved results that many could not in years.
After a mont of thought, Shinku said, “Kyoichi-sensei, I’d like to submit your thods as a case study to the Third Hokage for consideration. Would you be willing?”
“Of course,” Kyoichi replied with a grin.
After all, he wouldn’t be the one writing it.
And if the proposal succeeded, it would bring him imnse credit—perhaps even rewards.
In fact, Kyoichi was already considering volunteering for this assignnt with every graduating class. It would be an excellent opportunity to “reap the benefits.”
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