The Night of first impression

The grand hall was alive with an electrifying energy as the Initiation Showcase began. Torches lining the walls flickered with anticipation, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. Students and professors filled the rows of seats, their eager murmurs blending into a low hum of excitement.

At the center of it all was the stage—a raised, circular platform where each new student would step forward to prove themselves, to earn their place in the academy's intricate social hierarchy. For the newcomers, it was a moment of triumph or humiliation.

The Headmaster's voice boomed, silencing the crowd. "First to the stage—Madara Uchiha!"

The room erupted into applause, and all eyes turned to the boy who strode confidently onto the stage. Madara moved with a purpose, his posture straight, his chin slightly raised. His black robe swayed with each deliberate step, and his crimson eyes gleamed under the torchlight.

"Watch this," whispered an older student from the audience, leaning forward.

Madara stopped at the center of the platform, his wand clasped loosely in his hand. His lips curled into a faint smirk as he raised the wand high above his head. The crowd stilled, breaths held in collective anticipation.

"Umbra Totale," Madara intoned, his voice calm and deliberate.

The effect was instantaneous. Shadows spilled from his feet like ink, curling and spreading across the hall until the entire room was swallowed in impenetrable darkness. Gasps and nervous laughter echoed in the void. The air felt heavy, charged with a power that sent shivers down spines.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the darkness receded as quickly as it had come. Light returned to the hall, revealing Madara standing exactly as he had been, his smirk slightly wider now.

The room exploded into applause and cheers. Older students clapped grudgingly, while the professors exchanged murmurs of approval. Madara bowed slightly, his movements precise and controlled, before stepping off the stage with an air of quiet dignity.

"He's good," Belial muttered, her golden eyes narrowed as she watched him return to the crowd.

"Understatement of the year," Asmodeus whispered, shifting nervously.

"Next—Asmodeus!" the Headmaster announced.

Asmodeus felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He glanced at Belial, who gave him an encouraging nudge. "You've got this," she said, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Asmodeus climbed onto the stage. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, some tinged with curiosity, others with amusement.

"Let's see what this one's got," someone chuckled.

Asmodeus stood at the center of the platform, his wand held in trembling fingers. His emerald eyes darted over the sea of faces, some expectant, others skeptical. He could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on him.

Focus, he told himself.

He raised his wand, his grip tightening as he steadied his breath. He thought back to the hours he had spent practicing with Belial and Madara's advice about belief.

"Disparetto, apparatio!"

With a flick of his wand, the small white bunny he'd brought appeared on the stage. It twitched its nose, drawing a few murmurs of surprise from the audience. Asmodeus smiled faintly, encouraged, and continued.

Another wave of his wand, and the bunny vanished in a soft puff of smoke. Gasps rippled through the crowd, but they were softer than before. Finally, he brought it back, the creature appearing unharmed and as curious as ever.

There was polite applause, but no cheering.

Asmodeus stepped down from the stage, his shoulders slumping slightly. He felt the sting of the audience's lukewarm reaction but forced a small smile as Belial squeezed his arm. "You did great," she whispered.

"Next—Belial!"

Belial's freckled face was a mix of determination and nerves as she took the stage. Her golden eyes flicked to Asmodeus, and she gave him a quick nod before facing the audience.

She held her wand high, her movements sharp and deliberate as she began her spell. "Disparetto, apparatio!"

With a flick, she conjured a silver goblet, its surface gleaming under the torchlight. A few heads in the audience tilted in interest. Belial smiled, encouraged, and moved to the next step.

She waved her wand again, and the goblet vanished in a swirl of gold sparks. This time, there were a few appreciative murmurs. Belial's smile widened, and with one final flick, the goblet reappeared, floating gently before settling back onto the stage.

The applause was louder than Asmodeus's but still lacked the excitement that had greeted Madara. Belial stepped down, her head held high, though Asmodeus could see the tension in her jaw.

One by one, the other new students performed. Some stumbled over their incantations, earning scattered laughter. Others dazzled with impressive tricks, drawing enthusiastic cheers. But as the night wore on, rumors began to circulate.

"That bunny trick? It's beginner-level," one student whispered loudly enough for others to hear.

"Same with the goblet," another added with a dismissive wave.

Asmodeus overheard the whispers, his cheeks burning. He glanced at Belial, who was staring straight ahead, her face carefully neutral.

Madara leaned against a nearby pillar, his expression unreadable. When he caught Asmodeus's eye, he pushed off the wall and approached.

"Don't let it get to you," he said, his tone low but firm.

"They're right," Asmodeus muttered, staring at the floor. "It was simple."

"So what?" Madara replied, crossing his arms. "Everyone starts somewhere. The fact that you got up there and did it at all is more than most would've managed."

Belial joined them, her freckled face flushed but defiant. "He's right. We'll get better. Let them talk. They'll see."

Madara smirked faintly. "That's the spirit. Besides, half the people here couldn't handle the pressure of performing in front of everyone. You both held your ground."

Asmodeus glanced between them, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The showcase ended with a spectacular display from one of the older students, a fiery explosion that lit up the entire hall. But as the crowd began to disperse, the whispers lingered, a reminder of the steep climb ahead.

Asmodeus and Belial walked back to their dorms together, the cool night air brushing against their faces.

"We'll practice more," Belial said firmly, breaking the silence. "Next time, we'll blow them away."

Asmodeus smiled faintly, the knot in his stomach loosening. "Yeah. Next time."

Behind them, Madara watched from the shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming. A small, approving smile tugged at his lips. There was potential in those two—raw, unpolished, but undeniable. And he had a feeling they would surprise everyone soon enough.