Kurenai gently raised one hand. One of the proctors — so bland in appearance he looked like he'd been summoned by a bureaucrat-cloning jutsu — stepped forward holding a wooden box. She slipped two fingers inside and pulled out a small folded slip of paper.
"Before we begin the exam, we'll draw lots for your seating arrangement. Each of you will be called up to pick a number — that number corresponds to your desk."
I heard Jimei mutter under his breath "Ugh… random seating draw? This reeks of a trap."
"Silence in the room!" barked one of the proctors, with the subtlety of a kunai slamming into a wooden board.
One by one, the genin were called forward. "Yotsuki Reina." "Hyūga Tokuma." "Shibasaki Ren." "Uchiha Shigaki."
Before me, Jimei drew number 12. He shot me a defeated look as he trudged toward the front of the room.
When they called "Hoshino Kenshin!" I stood up, trying to look confident, and walked to the front. I drew my number: 27.
The desk was roughly in the middle of the room — far enough from anyone to copy or whisper to, and perfectly positioned to be watched by at least four different proctors. Fantastic.
Natori got number 42. Almost the complete opposite corner from me.
Separated. All of us.
Kurenai waited until everyone was seated, then stepped forward again. This time, her voice took on a more serious tone, though still carried that dangerously smooth edge she always had.
"You will now take a written exam. During the test, several rules must be followed precisely."
Around me, I heard some begin to grumble. The Suna kid next to me muttered something like, "You've got to be kidding me!" and someone else let out a too-loud, "Huh?"
I just exhaled quietly, barely audible.
Of course it was going to be a written test. I already knew this was a possibility. I'd seen it in the anime, and I'd prepared the best I could. I had even expected Ibiki to be the proctor and had come up with two subtle ways to cheat under his radar.
But swapping him for Kurenai didn't throw me off. The test format was probably still the same. And honestly, I never expected it to be easy.
While the others were still processing the news, I was already adjusting my posture in the chair.
Kurenai raised her hand again, and with a snap of her fingers, the blackboard behind her filled with text. None of us saw how it happened. It just appeared, as if it had always been there.
"Rule number one: From this point on, no questions are allowed."
A genin a few rows ahead must not have understood. He raised his hand.
"What do you mean no questions? That doesn't make any sen—"
He didn't even get to finish. One proctor was suddenly beside him, as if stepping out of the shadows. Another gripped his shoulder and started leading him out of the room.
The other two members of his team protested, but they were forced to follow.
"Wait, this is insane! I just wanted to understa—"
The door shut with a harsh click. Silence.
"Now then…" Kurenai continued, her tone unchanged. "Rule number two: Each team must score at least 80% on the exam."
A few genin swallowed hard. The tension in the room thickened. I, on the other hand, focused on her wording: each team must score at least 80%.
"Rule number three: The individual scores of all three team members will be added together and divided by three. That will be your final score."
That confirmed what I had already suspected. It wasn't enough for one of us to ace the test — all three had to do well. If one scored 100%, another 80%, and the last only 50%, the average would be around 75%… and the team would be eliminated. A trap disguised as fairness.
"Rule number four: During the test, no sudden movements, no talking, no standing up, and absolutely no cheating." Her tone got sharper, and her eyes swept over the proctors around us like a warning. "The proctors will be watching every move. If a candidate is caught breaking this rule three times, they'll be disqualified with their whole team."
One of the proctors crossed his arms and stared down a genin from Takigakure. The guy immediately looked away.
I adjusted myself in the chair and took a deep breath. This whole setup reminded me of Ibiki's test from the anime. More than just answering correctly, the real challenge was how you answered. I'd have to find ways to gather intel without drawing attention.
What bugged me was the emphasis on "sudden movements" and the number of strikes… Three. In Ibiki's version, you had five. Maybe it was a new rule. Or maybe they were just trying to freak us out early.
Either way… I rolled my shoulders, shook off the tension, and got my focus back on the rules.
Then Kurenai spoke again, still calm, still carrying that quiet menace in her voice.
"Fifth and final rule: The test will last exactly one hour. The first forty-five minutes are for the first nine questions. The last fifteen… are for the tenth."
The way she said "for the tenth" echoed through the room. Some genin shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
It wasn't just a time breakdown. It was a warning that question ten was going to be different.
I'd expected that. The famous tenth question from Ibiki's test, or in this case, Kurenai's version. I didn't know if it'd be exactly the same, but the structure was way too familiar to be a coincidence. I exhaled slowly. Nothing new here.
"Those are the only rules you need to know for now."
Kurenai's red eyes weren't a Sharingan, but they still looked pretty damn mystical. Red eyes always looked cooler than mine, kind of purplish and... lame. If I could trade them, I wouldn't even hesitate.
One of the proctors stopped in front of me and, without a word, placed the test sheet face down on my desk, along with a regular pencil and an eraser. Every genin got the same setup — like clockwork, bureaucratic choreography at its finest.
Kurenai took two steps back, still watching us like a hawk.
"You may begin!" She said, clapping her hands.
Almost in unison, the papers were flipped over, the soft fwip of pages breaking the silence like a starter pistol.
I scribbled my name at the top right away. Just as expected, the first question was already a nightmare! Some complex scenario involving team formations and tactical planning.
1. You are the leader of a five-ninja squad. Your team is on an extraction and escape mission with an injured hostage, moving through narrow, mountainous terrain where the risk of ambush is high. The mission demands stealth, speed, and constant protection of the hostage. Based on the current formation, identify its weaknesses and propose a strategic reorganization to maximize the mission's chances of success. Justify your choices based on the terrain.
Below the question, there was an image showing the current team formation. The question sounded intimidating, but reorganizing the squad wasn't nearly as complicated as it seemed.
However… After a few seconds studying the diagram to start writing my response, I noticed something odd. The team formation in the image wasn't the same as the one I had seen just moments before. I narrowed my eyes.
Maybe it was just nerves.
I decided to skip down and check out the second question.
2. You need to activate a trap that requires performing hand seals in a specific order. The Tiger seal activates the trap. The Rat seal deactivates it. The Snake seal reverses the effect of the last seal used. Which sequence activates the trap?
a) Tiger → Snake → Rat
b) Snake → Tiger → Snake
c) Rat → Snake → Tiger
d) Snake → Rat → Snake
This time, it was even more obvious: the order of the answers changed right in front of me.
What the hell was going on?
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few other genin looking just as confused. The guy next to me was sweating like crazy.
Wait… hadn't the room felt cold just a minute ago?
It was getting warmer now — fast. And the light… Why was it suddenly so bright here?
I rubbed my eyes subtly, but that only made it worse. The brightness flared.
"Ugh! That annoying noise! Why don't you stop already?!" A genin in front of me suddenly shouted, standing up and glaring at the boy from Amegakure beside him.
The poor Amegakure kid looked shocked. "What noise, you idiot? I didn't do anything! Are you losing it?!"
He stood up too. Kurenai watched, a faint, knowing smile at the corner of her lips.
"Candidates 18 and 19. You're disqualified. Take your team and leave."
Her voice cut through the argument like a blade.
"What?! But this idiot started it!" the genin protested, furious.
It was no use. Two proctors escorted them toward the exit. One of their teammates, a spiky-haired boy with a defeated look muttered a quiet curse. A girl on their team looked like she was about to cry.
Kurenai didn't even blink. "The next one to break any rule will be dealt with the same way."
Her voice was calm, but now carried a chill as sharp as stone.
"From this point forward, consider yourselves behind enemy lines. And every mistake… could be fatal."
I noticed that while I was sweating, others were shivering or scratching their arms like they were being attacked by invisible insects.
"Candidate 47, disqualified. Candidate 16, disqualified. Candidate 23, disqualified…"
Kurenai kept calling out names, eliminating teams one after another.
That's when I paused and thought about what I know about her. Kurenai is a genjutsu specialist like Rock Lee, but instead of taijutsu, her thing is illusions. Maybe not so flashy in the anime, but her skills… definitely not to be underestimated.
And the moment I thought that, everything clicked.
That was it. She was casting genjutsu on the candidates.
That's why the room felt hotter and brighter by the minute, and why everyone was starting to act so weird.
It was genjutsu. A subtle, environmental illusion — refined and probably cast by Kurenai the moment we stepped into the room. And it was intensifying. That annoying sound — like nails scratching a chalkboard — which I'd started hearing a few seconds ago, only confirmed it.
I glanced down at the exam sheet in front of me and realized small parts of the questions were constantly shifting. That had to be another genjutsu too.
It probably triggered when we first touched the paper or maybe even when we picked up the pencil. That meant I was under multiple layers of genjutsu.
The illusion on the sheet was more subtle. If someone ignored the effects or managed to break the environmental genjutsu, they might not even realize there was another one tied to the test itself.
I was sure Natsu would've caught it with her Byakugan. And Jimei probably figured it out too — he was the best among us when it came to genjutsu.
As I mentally celebrated figuring out the trick, the Suna kid next to me suddenly pulled out a kunai and stabbed his own leg. He must've realized he was under a genjutsu and used the pain to break free. The proctors didn't react — though I did notice one jot something down on their clipboard.
Right… we were allowed to break the "sudden movement" rule up to three times. That genin probably still had one or two more chances left before he'd get kicked out.
Unfortunately, it didn't look like he'd noticed the genjutsu on the exam sheet. His brow furrowed when he stared at the test a few seconds later.
Just when I thought he might risk another infraction to break the second genjutsu, I noticed him subtly pressing a finger into the open wound on his leg, probably to feel the pain again and snap out of it.
Clever move, I'll give him that. But I knew I didn't need to hurt myself to break those two genjutsus.
In fact, I only needed to commit a single infraction to break them both by forming just one hand seal. Of course, breaking more than one genjutsu at once required solid chakra control, but that was one area where I felt confident.
I brought my hands together as discreetly as possible and focused. I disrupted my chakra flow once. Immediately, the light dimmed and that damn screeching sound stopped.
I let my chakra flow normally for a second, then disrupted it again. This time, when I looked at the test sheet, the questions stopped shifting and rearranging themselves.
That probably would've been enough… but better safe than sorry. So I disrupted my chakra a third time, and to my surprise, something else in the room changed.
It isn't just my imagination. There were fewer candidates in the room than before.
So even the number of eliminated participants was an illusion? Maybe to avoid alarming the others? I didn't know the reason behind that last trick, but it didn't matter anymore.
I still had to answer the exam properly, and one of the proctors had definitely noticed my movements which meant I could only afford two more infractions.
Thankfully, the questions didn't seem impossible. They were focused on strategy and logical thinking, so I didn't feel the need to cheat to find any answers. I was pretty sure the true objective here was to stay calm and break the genjutsu.
Honestly, Kurenai was a lot more cunning than she let on. If she had been the proctor for the Chuunin Exam in the original story, poor Naruto would've been in real trouble. Funny how the legendary Team 7 actually got lucky with Ibiki.
But wait… if this version of the test is different… Does it mean the tenth question will be different too?