The sun beat down on the assembled Genin with an oppressive, almost personal, animosity.
Training Area 74, a vast, desolate expanse mockingly nicknamed the "Demon Desert" by generations of Suna shinobi, stretched before them, its entrance a yawning maw of heat haze and shifting sands. The air was already dry, promising a scorching day. Ryuu, even beneath his layers of pale grey, felt the phantom touch of a burn beginning on any theoretically exposed skin.
Team Twelve stood a little apart each looking weary. Izumi's composure was back, her discipline a carefully worn mask, but her onyx eyes, were scanning everything with heightened alertness. Renji, by contrast, seemed to vibrate with a nervous energy that was part excitement, part sheer terror.
Fewer than twenty teams remained. The first stage had been a brutal, if unconventional, filter. Now, those survivors faced a new proctor.
He was a man whose presence seemed to absorb the already scarce moisture from the air, making him appear even more desiccated than the desert itself. He was tall, whipcord-lean, his face almost entirely concealed by the traditional Suna headwrap and a high, stiff collar, leaving only a pair of dark, unblinking eyes that missed nothing.
He bore no obvious weapons, but his chakra signature, Ryuu noted, was sharp and dense.
This was Gaza, a Suna Jonin whose reputation was built on ruthless efficiency and an unparalleled mastery of desert warfare and survival.
He was, according to a terse annotation by Genma, "not to be underestimated, nor expected to show mercy."
Gaza's voice, when he spoke, was like sand grating over stone, devoid of inflection.
"Genin of the allied villages. You have passed the first trial. Do not congratulate yourselves. That was merely a test of composure and basic problem-solving. Many of you failed. Those who remain are deemed to possess a modicum of potential."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled, slightly wilted, crowd. "The second stage will test if that potential is anything more than a fluke."
"This is Training Area 74," Gaza continued, a grim satisfaction in his tone. "The Demon Desert. It is named thus for a reason. The elements are your enemy. Dehydration, heatstroke, sandstorms that can strip flesh from bone. The fauna is your enemy. Venomous vipers, giant scorpions, territorial sand beasts that hunt in the twilight hours. And," his gaze sharpened, "your fellow Genin are your enemy."
A low murmur, a mixture of bravado and genuine fear, rippled through the Genin.
"This stage involves a significant risk of injury. It involves a non-negligible risk of death." Gaza's words were a physical weight.
"Konoha, Kumo, Iwa, Taki, Kusa… your villages have all been apprised of these risks. They have all consented to your participation under these conditions. However, Sunagakure accepts no liability for incompetent Genin who meet their end within these sands."
He made a curt gesture. Several Suna Chunin moved forward, carrying stacks of scrolls and ink brushes.
"Before we proceed, each of you will sign a waiver." A collective intake of breath. "This document formally acknowledges the inherent dangers of this stage and relinquishes any claim against Sunagakure or its proctors in the event of your injury, permanent disability, or death. Refusal to sign means immediate disqualification for your entire team."
The Chunin began distributing the scrolls.
The atmosphere, already tense, grew palpably heavier. A death waiver. Ryuu had anticipated something like this.
Suna's reputation for brutal exams was well-known. It was a standard trope to raise the stakes. But standing here, an almost eleven-year-old child, the weight of the Konoha hitai-ate cool against his bandaged forehead, the dry desert wind whispering of bleached bones, it felt less like a narrative device and more like a chilling, pragmatic assessment of their odds.
Renji swallowed hard, his earlier excitement vanishing.
"A… death waiver?" he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
He looked at Izumi, then at Ryuu, a dawning horror in his eyes. He had lost one team already. The playful boy who loved ramen more than life itself was now a hardened shinobi, having experienced more loss than anyone his age.
Izumi took her scroll with a steady hand, her expression unreadable.
This was the path of a shinobi. Her clan, the Uchiha, had walked it for generations, embracing its dangers, its sacrifices. Her pride, her duty, would not allow her to falter now. But Ryuu, attuned to the subtle shifts in her chakra, sensed the tightly coiled anxiety beneath the stoic facade.
The attack by Tekka and Yashiro, the threat to Shisui, her near capture - it had matured her beyond her years.
Ryuu accepted his own scroll.
The cheap parchment felt brittle in his gloved hand. He read the stark, legalistic Kanjī, the words blurring into a simple, brutal equation, survive, or accept the consequences.
He understood the necessity of such a document from the village's perspective.
His child's body felt a cold knot of fear tighten in its stomach. The memory of Kenta's still, shocked face, the kunai protruding from his chest, was a fresh, agonizing wound. Kenta had, in essence, signed an unwritten waiver the moment he became a Genin. This just made it official.
"Something wrong, Genin?" Gaza's voice cut through his thoughts, a hint of sardonic amusement in his tone as he observed their varied reactions. "Second thoughts? The path to Chunin is not for the faint of heart. Or for those who value an overly long, uneventful life."
Ryuu met Izumi's gaze. A silent understanding passed between them. They had come too far, endured too much, to turn back now. Renji, seeing their resolve, squared his shoulders, a flicker of his usual reckless courage returning, though his hand trembled slightly as he took the brush. The boy was clearly shaken, but he wasn't a coward.
One by one, the Genin of Team Twelve signed their names, their futures, to the indifferent Suna scroll. The ink felt cold against the parchment.
"Good," Gaza stated, his eyes glinting as the last waiver was collected. "Now, the objective." He unrolled a large map of Training Area 74, a vast, featureless expanse with only a single, central structure marked.
A squat, heavily fortified tower that looked like a forgotten god's molar.
"Each team has been, or will shortly be, issued a scroll. Either a 'Sun' scroll or a 'Moon' scroll." Another set of Chunin began distributing small, identical, sealed scrolls.
Team Twelve received theirs. Ryuu noted the symbol on the scroll — a Sun scroll. Good.
"Your objective is to acquire the corresponding scroll from another team. You must possess one 'Sun' scroll and one 'Moon' scroll. Once you have both, you must make your way to the central tower," Gaza gestured to the map.
"You have seventy-two hours. Three days. The gates to this training area will seal precisely at that time. Any team not inside the tower with both scrolls by then, fails. Any team that loses its scroll, or has it destroyed, fails. Opening your scroll before reaching the tower, fails."
He let the implications sink in. It was a classic setup, designed to force conflict, to test not just combat skill but also strategy, stealth, and teamwork under extreme duress.
"The Demon Desert is unforgiving," Gaza's voice dropped, becoming almost a hiss.
"Water is scarce. Shelter is scarcer. The heat will drain you. The cold of the night will sap your strength. The creatures here are adapted to kill. And every other team you encounter is a rival, a threat, a potential source for the scroll you need, or a hunter of the scroll you possess. Combat is not just permitted, it is expected. Lethal force is authorized. The only rule is to survive and reach the tower with both scrolls." He seemed to relish the last part.
He fixed them with a final, chilling stare. "You are shinobi. This is your battlefield. Prove you belong. The gates will open in five minutes. Prepare yourselves."
With that, Gaza and his Chunin proctors retreated with disconcerting speed, vanishing into the shimmering heat haze as if they were part of the desert itself, leaving the Genin alone with their thoughts, their fears, and the dawning realization of the ordeal ahead.
Ryuu, Izumi, and Renji grouped up.
"Sun scroll," Izumi stated quietly, her hand resting on the small, sealed cylinder tucked into her weapons pouch. Her Sharingan was already active, a barely perceptible crimson hue behind her lashes.
"Means we need a Moon scroll."
Renji ran a hand through his perpetually ruffled hair, a nervous habit. "So… we just… find another team and beat 'em up?" His usual aggression was there, but it was tempered by a new, wary caution.
The death waiver, the proctor's grim pronouncements, had clearly made an impact. He didn't want a repeat of his previous team's fate.
Ryuu focused, his mind already sifting through variables, calculating odds.
"Direct confrontation is risky, Kazama-san," he said, his voice low and even, a deliberate counterpoint to the oppressive heat and the rising tension.
"Especially against unknown opponents, in an unfamiliar environment. We need information first. A strategy."
He looked out at the shimmering heat haze rising from the desert entrance.
"This place is designed to wear us down, to force mistakes. We avoid that."
The ground trembled slightly as the massive, sand-caked gates of Training Area 74 began to groan open, revealing a vista of endless, rolling dunes, jagged rock formations, and a sky that seemed to stretch into an infinity of merciless blue.
A hot, dry wind, carrying the scent of dust and something ancient, swept through the assembled Genin, a mocking welcome.
The Demon Desert awaited.
Team Twelve, along with the other Konoha and allied village Genin, stepped forward into the inferno.
The heat was a physical blow, far more intense than the ambient temperature outside the gates had suggested. Training Area 74 clearly possessed its own microclimate, one designed for maximum suffering.
Almost instantly, Ryuu felt the moisture being sucked from his skin, despite his protective layers. The pale grey fabric of his hooded cloak and tunic, designed to reflect heat, helped, but the sheer intensity of the sun was staggering.
He pulled the hood further forward, the dark lenses of his goggles his only window to this bleached world. The sand, already hot underfoot, radiated a fierce warmth that shimmered in the air, distorting distances, creating mirages on the horizon.
Dust, finer than anything he had encountered in the Land of Fire's forests, immediately began to work its way into every crevice of his clothing, an irritating, pervasive grit.
"Formation," Izumi said, her voice tight but controlled. She had already pulled her Uchiha-crested face covering higher, leaving only her eyes visible.
"I'll take point. Kazama-san, right flank, focus on speed and potential intercept. Yuki-san, left flank and sensory sweep, immediate perimeter. We move towards those rock formations to the northeast – first priority is shade and a defensible observation point." She indicated a distant, jagged spine of dark rock that seemed to float on the shimmering horizon.
Renji nodded, his usual boisterousness completely gone, replaced by a grim focus.
He drew one of his trench knifes, its blade gleaming dully in the harsh light. Ryuu, already extending his senses, sensing the few teams ahead of them already leaving his range.
They moved out, not directly towards the distant, barely visible tower, but in a wide, sweeping arc, aiming for the cluster of rocky outcrops Izumi had spotted. The silence of the desert was unnerving, broken only by the sigh of the wind and the crunch of their boots on the sand, a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the vast emptiness.
Ryuu pushed his awareness outwards, feeling for the now faint, almost imperceptible chakra signatures of other teams. He had suppressed his own chakra to the point of being almost one with the environment.
After nearly an hour of punishing travel, they reached the relative shelter of the rock formations. It was less an oasis and more a collection of sun-baked, wind-scoured boulders, but it offered a sliver of shade beneath an overhanging rock, the stone still cool from the pre-dawn chill.