I had long awaited this day. The academy graduation exam was the defining moment of our shinobi careers—it would set us upon the course our lives would take from here on out. The beginning and, for some, the end.

I couldn't say with certainty that my stakes were higher than anyone else's. If I failed, the future that awaited me was indentured servitude. And that sucked. But my life wasn't on the line. For many, it was. If I was a better person, I would accept my lot in life, and allow another to take my place so that they might have a better future.

But I wasn't a better person. I would pass at the top of my class, and maintain the standing I had fought for. I would clinch a jonin sensei, and Gari would have no choice but to let me go.

I hope. I pray.

So, I made real fucking sure that I was going into this week at my best. I let my tides settle, got a good night's sleep, packed all sorts of foods and supplies in my storage seals (lunches and dinners would not be provided) and woke up with time to spare and in a good mood.

That didn't last long. In what was surely a calculated move, Yoshiro-sensei immediately brought us into a special room with proctors, where we commenced our written test. It contained sections dedicated to every single unit in every single theoretical class we had taken in all six years of the academy—math, history, reading comprehension, finances, infiltration theoreticals, medicine, jutsu theory, everything. We had to write multiple essays for the Consequences section alone.

We started at five am. It ended at six pm. Thirteen hours straight, with zero breaks. The fucking bar was only twelve, and that was usually split between two days! Not to mention, taken by adults, not ten to eleven-year-olds!

I didn't finish, and neither did anyone else. It wasn't meant to be finishable, and those of us with brains realized that. We solved what we identified to be the most valuable questions in each section first, and went back to answer whatever we skipped over to the best of our abilities.

It was demoralizing, and that was the point. It set the tone for everything that will follow, and proved something that I long suspected.

There were hidden tests in every segment of this graduation exam. This one, in addition to everything on the surface, evaluated our personalities. Did we have the mentality to succeed as ninja? To overcome mental adversity? To manage our time effectively? To critically identify targets? Hell, to be able to sit still for an extended period of time?

That was the hardest part for me. The chairs we were given were wooden, with no cushioning. My ass fucking hurt after hour six, less than halfway through. My left leg fell asleep at hour nine, and I did nothing to alleviate that aside from massaging it internally with my chakra.

And my poor bladder. It ached sharply, but there was nothing I could do about it. Some people left to use the bathroom, and none of them came back. I hoped, for their sakes, the proctors would still grade what they completed up to that point. From the smell in the room after a while, I assumed some of my classmates simply decided to soil themselves.

But finally, finally, we were finished. Time was called and Yoshiro-sensei announced we would be given a short break.

The word break brought the mood even lower. Everyone assumed that would be it for the day, but our hopes were dashed. We still had another test, and Yoshiro-sensei suggested we eat and use the bathroom as quickly as possible. Our next site was far away, and if we let the sun set before finishing it, we would be at a huge disadvantage.

That was all I needed to hear. I only stopped to use the bathroom, and after Yoshiro-sensei gave me my testing site, I ate on the way. Most had the same idea.

Sekitsui, the mountain range within which Iwagakure was nestled, was vast. I learned in class that there were one hundred and eighty three peaks that fell within the Land of Earth's borders, and it continued well into the east. It was the namesake for the Land of Mountains, Land of Mountain Streams, and, less intuitively, the Lands of Fangs and Claws.

All that was to explain why nobody had time to name them all, so I have no idea what to call the one I was directed to. It was due north of the Tsuchikage's Palace and a little east, which made it a fair hike to reach. One that I had to take alone; Katashi and Misao were with me for a little bit, but my destination was farther than theirs'.

Yeah, I wasn't all that happy about it. There was no guarantee that I'd be finished after this one either, so I would need to conserve as much stamina as possible.

Chakra too. This wasn't just a physical exercise; I had to rely on chakra sticking to keep my footing, and to scale segments of the mountain that were too sheer. Not even the crunchiest of granola people back on Earth would choose to do this, and I couldn't afford to take it slow. In addition to the threat of nightfall, it stood to reason that there was either a proctor already up there. It wouldn't do to keep them waiting. And thank fuck I realized that quickly enough.

When I, lightly panting, finally reached the summit, I paused as my eyes cleared the lip. There was a woman there, sitting on what I could only describe as a granite throne. She wore a jonin flak vest, and I didn't need to see her feet propped up on a monstrous wasp the size of a doberman to know she was a member of the Kamizuru clan. Though I had never seen her in person, I still recognized her.

"You're finally here," she said drolly, and I really hoped she would have said that no matter how long I took.

"Gomeiwaku o okakeshite, mooshiwake gozaimasen," I apologized, swallowing dryly. "I hadn't realized the Heiress to the Kamizuru clan would be waiting on me."

Kamizuru Kimiko hummed, leaning her head on one hand. The pose alone made her look like power incarnate. I was too intimidated to even be horny over it.

"You know me," she noted.

"Hai. It would be foolish not to memorize the faces of those with high standing in the village."

She smiled predatorily, her sand-colored hair so long that it draped to her ribs. That was quite unusual for kunoichi, for obvious reasons. It was a statement that read you can't even get close enough to me to make use of such an advantage.

"So as not to offend us by mistake?" she wondered. "Or perhaps so you can know whose sandals to kiss?"

Ugh, she was one of those. Someone who was hot shit and knew it. But I didn't hate people like that—it would be hypocritical.

"I wanted to be able to recognize my future peer's faces, is all," I said, mimicking her bored drawl. My words seemed to amuse her.

"If you say so. My clan has been asked to assist with this year's academy final. Each of my people have been assigned to one of your classmates. I so happened to choose you because I saw your name on the roster and found it amusing."

Yeah, that would probably never stop happening. Thanks, Kazuhiro.

"My god-brother named me that after my parents were killed in the Fugatoro Incident," I said nonchalantly.

The heiress offered no condolences, but she thumped her chest as a sign of sincere respect.

"This will be the site of your weapons test," she announced, seemingly done with the posturing. "See the holes in the ground?"

The top of the mountain had been cut flat into a plateau around three times the size of my academy classroom. Evenly scattered along the ground were the holes Kimiko was referring to, which were lined with metal pipes a little wider than my arm was thick.

"Put these paddles in each of them," she instructed. Said paddles lay in a heap to her side. They didn't resemble anything that would be used to row a boat; they were wide and rectangular, apart from the metal pole at the bottom that fit snugly in each hole. When I strode over and grabbed one, I realized that the bottom was lubricated, and quickly whipped it off on my arm bandages. The last thing I needed in my weapons test was slippery hands.

Grabbing them by the wide ends instead, I quickly set to my task, starting with the side nearest to Kimiko, and working my way back. When the field was all set, I could see little space between the rectangular paddles, and how much varied from moment to moment. That was due to the fact that all of them were constantly spinning.

It was windy on top of this mountain, go figure. And each gust, no matter how gently or in which direction it came from, spun the paddles freely. The only clear part was a circle, around ten feet in diameter, at the very center.

"Good. Now, come over here," she ordered. "It's time for you to pick your weapons."

I could have given her a stink eye. Why couldn't I have done that first? Still, I made no comment, trying to move as gracefully as I could through the whirling maze. To my chagrin, I did have to hold paddles in place twice to get by.

"You're lucky this isn't an evasion test," Kimiko grinned, and though my ears burned, I only nodded my head. "Now."

She unrolled four long, leather kits, which contained an array of kunai, shuriken and senbon.

"You are allowed to choose twenty of the weapons displayed here," she said magnanimously, waving her hand over the selection. There were far more than twenty of each variety.

"Can I not use my own?" I asked, patting my weapons pouch. "I would be happy to let you inspect them."

"Nope," she shot me down immediately. "In fact, I'll need that, and everything else metal and pointy you have on you. Best to remove temptation, right?"

I nodded in acceptance, handing her my weapons pouch and the two kunai I kept hidden elsewhere on my body. I didn't think I could pull one over on a jonin, and the consequences of attempting to do so and failing were far too grave for me to risk it.

"Now, make your choices," she instructed, and I crouched over the pile.

I understood why there were so many immediately. Though they didn't appear to be at first glance, almost every single fucking weapon was different. The weight distributions were all skewed, and some—many—were imbalanced in one way or another. About a sixth of them, too, were blunt.

This was a hidden portion of the test. They wanted to see if we could tell quality gear from trash.

"Before I make my selection, would you mind telling me what the test will entail?" I asked.

She seemed to consider the question. "I suppose I don't see the harm," she mused.

Then, something absolutely horrifying happened. A harsh buzzing sound filled the air as countless wasps flew out from underneath her sleeves, taking to the sky and hovering all around. I knew it was coming—Kimiko had let slip that her entire clan was administering this test, so it stood to reason that their clan techniques were somehow involved. But holy fuck. It took all of my mental training to overcome my monkey brain's intrinsic response to being surrounded by what equated to at least fifteen angry wasp hives. How the hell did they all fit under her clothes?

"This is my hive," she introduced. "One of them, at any rate. You see the red ones?"

Buzzing around with the rest of the hive were a relatively small amount of red wasps. I don't know what made them red, but they stood out among the rest. They were also bigger than the others, around the size of my fist.

"Those are your targets," she revealed. "If you can kill all twenty-five of them before the time's up, then you pass. If you can't, you fail. Though how many you manage to hit will be considered when I come up with your grade. That's what I've been told to say. But I think that's a dumb rule. If you let a single enemy escape and report back to their company, that's a loss in my book. So if you don't get all of them, I'm gonna tell your sensei you didn't hit any. Understood?"

Yeah, those were the bullshit high standards I was expecting from an elite jonin. From her facial expression, I bet she was expecting me to complain about the unfairness. I just nodded.

"Good. I agree." I considered the woman in front of me. "You're cool with me killing your pets?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" was her response. "They're only insects."

That right there was probably the reason the Aburame clan was able to nearly wipe them out in the future.

Kimiko grinned. "You better pick out your weapons, now. I don't have all day."

I did as she asked. Shuriken, with their wider contact range seemed to be the best choice here, so I took fourteen of them, along with six kunai. That was when I noticed something.

"You said there were twenty-five targets?" I asked.

"Yep." She didn't offer any additional explanation, and I sighed, turning in one of my shuriken and two balanced kunai. In their stead, I chose three blunt kunai with different weight distributions. I understood how to solve the puzzle behind this test, but this was one of those situations in which understanding how to do something didn't make doing it any easier.

"No jutsu, nin or gen, if that wasn't obvious. You can't leave the circle even once, as that will constitute an automatic failure. The exam ends after you throw your last weapon. You ready?"

I nodded, and her smile turned savage as she sat back in her throne. "Then, let's begin."

Immediately, I heard a change in pitch in the humming behind me, and I quickly stepped to the side as one of the yellow wasps bum rushed me. It circled around and came at me again, its stinger pointed straight at me, but I was ready, and sheared through its carapace with one of my kunai.

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" she called. "My other friends aren't gonna just sit back. War's coming, you know that right? And in war, you need to be able to attack and defend at the same time."

I'd gotten stung by wasps many times in my old life, but I was gonna go out on a limb and say that the stings of ninja wasps, especially ninja wasps belonging to the future head of the Kamizuru clan, would be much, much worse.

Luckily, I wasn't being constantly swarmed until I inflated into one massive sack of pustules, which could have very well happened if Kimiko wished. They only attacked intermittently, and no more than two at a time.

The spinning paddles made lining up shots extremely difficult. If the breeze was light, they moved slowly, which meant I could see and aim between them. But if the winds picked up, there were effectively no gaps, and unless the red wasps were above instead of beyond or in between them, I had no choice but to wait. I already had five less weapons than I had targets—I couldn't afford to widen that gap any more.

So I didn't miss. Since my batch began learning bukijutsu in our seventh semester, I had put countless hours in class and out perfecting my technique. I never forgot the anecdote Yoshiro-sensei had shared with me in the hospital; that more than anything made me treat the art of throwing weapons seriously.

I picked off each red wasp that showed itself to me. Then, a rare moment came, and I was able to arc a shuriken to take out two.

"Nice one," Kimiko called. I ignored her praise; more wasps were coming at me, and I fended them off with kunai and fists.

This wasn't getting me very far. Directly hitting multiple targets with one shot was all but impossible with all the obstacles in the way; I had been lucky to do that even once. As the amount of targets decreased, I surely wouldn't get another chance.

So I would have to do it indirectly.

I spotted a red wasp en route to dip behind one of the far obstacles. The wind, for the moment, was light, so the paddles only spun lazily, but it was still much too challenging a shot. There was another target much closer.

Quickly, I snatched a kunai from the ground—one of the heavier, blunt ones—and channeled chakra to my throwing arm, enhancing my muscles. I threw the weapon with so much force that the air popped, and the red wasp was utterly obliterated despite its lack of a honed point. A millisecond later, the weapon hit the edge of the outer oar with a mighty clang, and it changed rotation directions sharply. I grinned when I saw another red wasp—the first I had spied—fall to the ground, its wing crushed. The now-dented paddle still rang like a bell.

"Please tell me that one's dead," I called, deciding to be candid.

"It will be soon enough," Kimiko confirmed. "Good one. Think you can do it three more times?"

I guess we'd see. In the meantime, I continued picking them off the normal way, all too conscious of how depleted my weapons supply was getting by the moment.

I had another trick up my sleeve though, literally. It wasn't "metal or pointy," so it didn't violate the rules she had set. Kimiko seemed like the person to let any out of the box solution slide as long as she hadn't explicitly banned it, so I surreptitiously untucked the end of my special bandage. Unlike the ordinary white ones, it was dyed dark red.

Holding the end in my fist, I scooped up another weighty kunai, with the ring at its hilt pressed against the end of the fabric. Then, I lined up my shot and threw.

A red wasp was beamed just as it left the cover of a spinning oar—it didn't suffer. And I hadn't lost control of my weapon. The end of my red bandage stuck fast to the kunai, and I pulled, arresting its momentum and swinging it like the end of a meteor hammer. With a fancy move worthy of Itachi Uchiha, I used my opposing forearm as a brace, lined up the shot perfectly, and released my chakra. The kunai flew in nearly the opposite direction I originally threw it, and obliterated another red wasp.

"Ah, the old bandage tied around the kunai trick. We anticipated someone would do that," Kimiko said.

"You didn't say anything about using things that weren't metal or pointy," I pointed out, trying not to let my nervousness show.

"Yeah. You didn't break any rules. I'm supposed to tell you though, that you can't do that again. Supposed to. And I probably would, if you tied it like we expected. But that was a pretty neat trick. Your chakra control is something else."

I had been honing my external chakra control for all these years. And…it was still dogshit.

Yeah. Despite all my efforts, it hasn't gotten any better. So how the hell did I use chakra sticking to fasten the kunai to my bandage, and then release it on command?

Simple. I wasn't using external chakra control. And I wasn't using fuinjutsu either. It was all internal, baby. Technically. As far as my chakra was concerned, this bandage was a part of my body.

I had discovered something important, back when Gari had first enslaved me. I was looking for ways to mass produce tags, and discovered that I had to choose between two bottlenecks.

Printing presses were a thing, and could, in fact, be used to produce seals. As long as the chakra signature in the ink matched the matrix, the seal would successfully activate. However, the Elemental Nations were currently still in their Gutenburg era. Two types of printing presses existed: one that would only work with oil-based ink (pretty self explanatory why that wouldn't work for my purposes) and another that was kind of like a massive metal stamp, with raised edges that the ink could be rubbed on.

It was a solution that created an even bigger problem. Unless I spent twice the amount of time (thereby invalidating the entire point of using a printing press) painting the ink on only the raised bits instead of using a roller to cover it all quickly, using such a machine wasted a lot of ink. Fuinjutsu ink, even before adding the significant amount of chakra needed to impart your signature into it, was a precious commodity, and while Gari provided me my materials, he would know what I was doing if I wasn't able to fulfill my quotas with the amount of ink he provided.

Unfortunately, I couldn't rely on knowledge from my old world to get around that. I didn't even know how to make an ancient printing press, much less a modern one that wouldn't waste so much ink. The only thing I could think of was screen printing, and that wasn't feasible for me now either. For that to work, I'd need an extremely thin, metal template that I could carve my seal matrix perfectly into, and fuinjutsu ink was also unfortunately runny. If I used screen printing, the excess ink that filled in the depth of the template would spill out the moment I lifted the metal, ruining the necessary precision of the final product, unless I left the template on for an extended period of time to let it dry. Which, again, would invalidate the entire point of not making the tags by hand.

So, ink was the first bottleneck. If I didn't use technology to speed up the process, I could instead do it by hand and, theoretically, waste no ink. But it took time. That was the other bottleneck I could choose.

I didn't like those options, so I found my own. My experiments led me to discover that, once attuned to my chakra signature, ink essentially became an extension of my canals. Which made sense, in retrospect. If hand signs paralleled seal components, the ink lines were the seals equivalent of chakra canals. To my chakra, attuned ink, as long as I was in physical contact with it, was another canal. And after all this time, I had perfect control over my own canals.

It was just a little mental trick, really, and not one that would ever be relevant to anyone else. But it was a mental trick that helped me immensely. Using an ordinary template, I could mass produce seals by dragging ink through stacks of paper. Each metaphorical brushstroke became forty-two (that's as thick as a stack of paper could be for this to work) as it was copied onto every sheet underneath it.

Another, far more niche, use for my discovery was that by dying one of my bandages with attuned fuinjutsu ink (I colored red overtop for style), I could channel chakra through it perfectly, no matter how far away the end was from my body. Again, as long as I was in physical contact.

"I'll let you use it that way," Kimiko said magnanimously. "If you can."

Then, I was fighting for my life. The buzz of wasp wing beats reached a crescendo as some nonverbal command whipped them up in a frenzy. Each insect seemed to move at twice the speed, and up to four, not two, charged me at a time. I could barely defend myself, much less attack.

I shouldn't have done that until the end, I bemoaned. Of course she would ramp up the difficulty once I showed I could take it.

The unwrapped bandage became a liability. Wasps were trying to get at it as I futilely attempted to draw it back in. I hastily recoiled it around my arm halfway, but the end had been snagged by one of the wasps, and was being dragged taught with impressive strength. Of course, it was still a wasp, and I could easily overpower it. So I did. And that was a mistake.

With the cloth taut, another wasp darted in and somehow cut it. Mostly—it was reinforced with a strand of ninja wire. But my chakra could only pass through ink, not metal. Its end fell uselessly to the ground, and my advantage had been nullified. If I could reel it in and cut the ninja wire, I could use what remained, but my arms were far too occupied.

I couldn't keep this up. I needed to attack. Through the haze and the spinning oars, I saw a red wasp. I threw a shuriken, it hit, but—

Pain.

"Fuck!" I roared, murdering the wasp that tagged me. I was right—that was no mere wasp sting. Agony lanced through my arm—thank god it was my left. If it was my throwing arm, I may as well forfeit now. My muscles spasmed, and I could already feel it swelling.

"Yeah, you're gonna want to avoid those," Kimiko said blandly, and I snarled. Out of spite, I pulled off the kunai paddle trick, leaving two more red wasps dead. Then, there were three left, while I only had a shuriken and the kunai I was defending with.

The wind changed direction, and the paddles started spinning quickly the other way. Damnit.

I put my all into defense. There was little else I could do. I weaved around the annoyances, striking them down wherever I could. An opportunity arose, and I killed another red wasp with a shuriken. Two left.

"If you have any more tricks, you better pull them out now," Kimiko called. "The test is over once you throw your last weapon."

I didn't need the reminder. Finally, I managed to reel in my bandage, stamped on it to hold it in place and cut off the useless end. Not easy to do without my burning left arm, but I managed. My reach with the bandage was considerably shorter, and I couldn't use my other hand to guide it now.

All I could do was this. I slapped the kunai against the end of the bandage and flung it towards one of the red wasps buzzing around the perimeter of my field, through a gap in the spinning oars. It easily changed directions, avoiding my projectile by a metaphorical mile, but it was just a feint. I pulled it back before the wind could pick up again and tangle my bandage around the oars, caught the tool, and tanked a wasp with my back. It didn't seem to matter that there was protective gear in the way; it still hurt like a bitch. But I was expecting it, and my tolerance for this kind of pain was high. I didn't let it stop me.

There was a red wasp directly above me—a very difficult shot, surrounded with so many moving elements, and with the bright sun directly overhead. But I made it, and the wasp was dead.

"So close," Kimiko said, and the other wasps stopped attacking me. "But still, one remains. And you threw your last weapon. Know what that means?"

"My kunai hasn't landed yet," I said stoically, and, behind my back, I made a hand sign.

There was an audible pop, no louder than something you could buy for a dollar back in the U S of A in July. Without the influence of the wind—against it, as a matter of fact—a paddle at the outside perimeter spun rapidly, wacking the final red wasp I had corralled towards it solidly. What ordinarily would amount to nothing more than a distraction killed my greatest foe yet in this world.

"Huh," Kimiko said. "Now that I think about it, I was supposed to set up the field myself before you arrived."

"What a bizarre and incongruous anecdote," I drawled. "But, and since I obviously wasn't present for the discussion this is merely speculation, I imagine that you were also supposed to hold back your wasps far more than you did."

The buzz of the wasps, which had silenced slightly, suddenly ramped up in volume immensely.

"I was implying that you cheated, brat," she said dangerously. "As you very well understand. I'll have you know, I take my job as a proctor very seriously. I'm not sure you earned that last kill."

It was a subtle misdirection, and a clever application of the Kamizuru's bloodline (or whatever the fuck you would classify what they had going on). The wasps' iconography and the noise they produced was meant to evoke fear—and it certainly did. But the cold weight in my chest didn't come from them primarily. Kimiko was producing her own killing intent.

Praying with all my might that I had accurately taken her measure, I doubled down.

"Cheated?" I repeated. "I apologize, but I can't think of a single rule you gave that I violated. I didn't leave the circle, and I didn't use anything sharp and metal, other than what you provided me. Oh, and I didn't use any jutsu either. However, if I did violate the spirit of the test, and if you believe that constitutes cheating—something I don't admit to, for the record—then you, a jonin, didn't notice until it was too late. I'm training to be a shinobi, not a samurai. I see no issue with breaking the rules, if it means fulfilling my objective. Do you?"

The killing intent, and the volume, intensified, and I held back my instinctual shudder. With Kazuhiro's help, and with the helplessness I felt in the hospital room with Yoshiro-sensei as my motivation, I had spent years building up a resistance to killing intent. Still, he was a green jonin, and this was an elite. Possibly, one of the strongest shinobi in Iwagakure. Definitely in the top fifteen, likely even top ten. And she wanted a reaction.

"I suppose there's a point to be made there," she mused, her voice soft and dangerous. "As long as certain criteria are met. There are no moral consequences among shinobi for lying, cheating, or doing whatever necessary to complete our mission parameters. But that isn't to say there are no consequences at all. Which is why it is essential that a shinobi of Iwagakure leaves no trace of their misdeeds."

She jerked a thumb at the rigged oar, which once again spun lazily under the control of the breeze.

"If I take a close look at that thing, will I find a trace of whatever you did to kill my wasp?"

I swallowed dryly. "You won't be able to find a trace of any tampering, because there was none to begin with."

She nodded in satisfaction. "For the record, I would have failed you outright if you admitted it just then. But I'm not just going to take your word for it. Let's see if you're right."

I didn't let it show, but I was fucking terrified. The tag I used would incinerate itself, with what few ashes remained to be dispersed by the wind. But my future hinged on whether or not my tag had left a scorch mark on the paddle's surface. And I really wasn't sure if it did or not. If I ever made it out of the genin corps after this, that would have to be something to keep in mind.

Kimiko made a great show of checking over the metal paddle, going so far as to take it out of the ground entirely. After no less than five full fucking minutes, her voice carried over the still-spinning oars between us.

"Well then. It looks like you passed."

I could have cheered, but I didn't. I still had eleven tests to go.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

AN: Hey y'all! The Academy Graduation Exam has finally kicked off. Shit's only gonna get wilder from here.

Some of you are probably concerned with the sentence I ended the chapter with. Yes, there are eleven parts of the exam to go. No, I won't focus an entire chapter on each of them, don't worry. Some, like the written portion, will be glossed over. Some will be short, but accompanied with flashbacks that will shed light on how Kasaiki learned the skills being tested on over the time skip. And yes, some will get nearly an entire chapter's worth of focus.

This is a five day exam, with Kasaiki just having finished the first day (she was thankfully wrong, there were no more tests after her weapons test). I have six more chapters planned for this arc. It might go to seven—we'll see how day five goes once I start writing.

You get to see how Kasaiki mass produces her tags though, so that's cool. I anticipate a lot of questions, but I'm not going to answer the obvious ones now because they will be addressed in text.

I am temporarily moving my update days from Sunday to Tuesday. Due to my current work schedule, I will be too busy to write over the weekend. I'm not happy about this, but it will resolve itself soon, and I'll go back to Sunday updates.

That's all for now. Peace!