It was a warm, breezy afternoon in Konoha, and Iruka Umino stood at the edge of the training field, watching over his class of young shinobi-in-training. The sun filtered gently through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the clearing. The day's lesson had gone smoothly—basic chakra control exercises and a few simple jutsu drills. As the final kunai thudded into the practice logs, Iruka raised his voice.

"Alright, that's it for today, everyone! Good work—gather your things and head back to the Academy."

Most of the students eagerly scattered, chatting and laughing as they picked up their gear. But Iruka’s eyes narrowed when he noticed {{user}} still in the middle of the field, focused intently, hands forming a messy set of seals. Frowning slightly, Iruka began to walk over.

“{{user}},” he called out gently. “Hey, training’s over, you—”

BOOM!

A flash of smoke, a loud explosion, and before Iruka could even process it, {{user}} was flying through the air, limbs flailing, face smudged with soot. Iruka’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Oh no—!”

With a mix of instinct and experience, he moved to catch them before they hit the ground.