"A hospital gown..." I finally noticed, glancing down at myself. The thin, faded fabric flapped awkwardly against my bare calves.
I checked the wall clock to gauge the time. It was around nine in the morning. That meant the official results announcement at the Hokage Tower hadn't started yet—I still had a chance to make it.
Discharge went surprisingly fast. The village covered the medical expenses entirely, as the injuries were sustained during the official stage of the exams. The medic, handing over my documents, looked at me as if I were a ghost returned to life, but he didn't try to stop me. My vitals were normal, even if they raised a dozen questions in his mind.
I stepped into the dressing room, hoping to find my gear, but reality was cruel. My favorite flak jacket and pants looked like they had been stolen from a vagrant and then slowly roasted over an open flame. Holes, soot, and charred scraps of fabric—that was all that remained of my equipment.
The hospital gown had to be returned, so I was forced to pull on this tattered disaster. My sandals were more or less intact, thank goodness for that. However, walking out onto the street looking like this was beneath my pride.
"I'll have to improvise," I whispered. Weaving a hand sign, I used Henge (Transformation Jutsu).
The illusion layered the appearance of my usual clothes over the rags, but I knew any experienced shinobi would see through the trick in a heartbeat. There was nothing else for it. My home was three blocks away, and I had no other clothes. I decided to cut through the back alleys, relying on my stealth and hoping not to run into anyone I knew. Fortunately, the transformation held just until the moment I slipped into my foyer.
Once home, the first thing I did was jump into the shower. The hot water burned my skin pleasantly, washing away the hospital smell, the soot, and the sticky sweat. Only here, in the silence, did I finally feel safe. Changing into a clean, fresh uniform and tightening my forehead protector as usual, I sat down at the table.
My weights lay before me. Heavy metal that had become a part of my life.
"Yeah, there were far more mistakes in that fight than I calculated," I thought, weighing one of the heavy metal loads in my hand.
Despite the weights allowing me to reach Chunin-level speed, the reality was harsher: there were people at the exam whose quickness left me far behind. Asuma or Guy, at peak performance, move so fast the eye can barely track them. My main tactical blunder was over-reliance on the Body Flicker Technique. Shunshin is effective, but it ruthlessly devours chakra if used constantly. I desperately need to develop explosive muscle reaction so I don't depend on costly ninjutsu for every skirmish.
My improvisation with the Vacuum Barrier turned out to be a gold mine. If I can learn to create that airless space faster and with less cost, I will become a nightmare for any Fire Style user—without oxygen, their techniques turn into useless smoke. But there is a deeper layer: the physics of a vacuum dictate that sound cannot travel through it.
This makes the technique a perfect trap against Genjutsu masters who rely on hearing. However, this trump card is useless if I don't fix my combat style—I was too reckless going head-to-head against Aoba, letting him dictate the rules. Losing my tanto effectively disarmed me because I hadn't prepared a backup plan. I either need to master a weapon recall technique or integrate hidden blades into my gear.
My stomach let out a roar so loud and demanding that I involuntarily winced, pressing a hand to my belly.
"Fine, fine, I'm going," I muttered to the silence of the empty apartment. "Time to eat. And while I'm at it, I'll check how things are going at my place."
I headed toward my burger joint.
Inside, it was cozy. There were enough customers so the hall didn't feel empty, but not so many that there was a line. Behind the counter, as usual, worked a cook I knew. He was focused on flipping patties on the grill and didn't even look up when I approached.
What'll it be?" he asked gently, wiping his hands on his apron.
"One double burger, large fries, and juice," I replied, trying to alter my voice so it wouldn't sound too familiar.
"Got it. Five minutes. Take a seat," he grunted, punching in the order.
I found a free spot by the window. Sitting there, I lazily picked at a fry and watched the village bustle. Despite the peaceful look of the streets, tension hung in the air. Shinobi on patrol moved faster, and the faces of passersby seemed grimmer than usual. The atmosphere in Konoha was electric with the expectation of something serious—rumors of Hidden Mist maneuvers were already spreading among the people.
On the approach to the Residence itself, my path was blocked by two figures in grey vests and porcelain masks. ANBU. Their presence here, at a routine results announcement, only confirmed my thoughts about the escalating global situation.
"Purpose of your visit?" the voice of one of them sounded cold and dispassionate, like the clanking of metal.
"To hear the results of the Chunin Exam," I answered.
One of the operatives checked a list in his hands, nodded, and signaled for me to follow. We walked through the long, echoing corridors of the Tower until we stopped before a massive door. The ANBU opened it silently and gestured for me to enter.
It was a large, closed room where about forty-five people had already gathered. The air was heavy, thick with anticipation and stress. I scanned the room.
"So many familiar faces..." I whispered.
Kakashi stood by the window, detached as ever. A little further away, Aoba—with whom I had tried to roast alive on the arena just two days ago—was nervously rubbing his hands. I noticed Inuzuka, Raido, a couple of guys from the Uchiha clan, and a few others I had crossed paths with during different stages of the test.
But others caught my attention. There were many ninja in the hall I hadn't seen at all during the exam stages. These were older men with weathered faces and the hard stares of veteran fighters.
"Strange... there are plenty of faces here who didn't take the exam with us," I thought, slowly moving deeper into the room. "Apparently, the situation on the borders with the Mist is so bad that the Hokage decided on a mass promotion. Some were moved up for years of service and experience, while others—because of specific skills the village needs for the coming war?"
The atmosphere was far from celebratory. This wasn't a formal awards ceremony; it felt more like a briefing before a dangerous mission.
Suddenly, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and the Third Hokage entered. The Jonin accompanying him stood on either side, and the hum of voices vanished instantly. The Third Hokage stepped onto the balcony in his ceremonial robes.
Finally showed up, I thought. The lead examiners stood beside him.
"Attention!" a voice boomed, amplified by chakra. "It is time to announce those who have proven through action their right to wear the rank of Chunin of the Hidden Leaf."
"Come closer, children of Konoha," he began, and his voice, though not loud, filled the entire space. "You have passed through the crucible of trials. You have seen fear, pain, and exhaustion, yet you did not retreat."
He clasped his hands behind his back and began his usual, yet no less significant, speech about the Will of Fire.
"Our village is not just walls, stones, and roofs. It is a large family. And as in any family, the elders protect the younger ones..."
What cringe, I thought, watching him spout this propaganda with a perfectly serious face.
I stood in the back rows, trying to maintain a stone-cold expression, but inside I was boiling with cynicism. It's easy to talk about "family" while sitting in a protected building surrounded by elders and elite guards. Meanwhile, out there on the front lines, ten-year-old children are dying simply because someone at the top made a "strategically sound" decision. Elders protecting the younger ones? Hilarious. In this "family," the children are the first thrown into the furnace to cover the ambitions of the adults.
"...and today, your sprouts have grown strong enough to weather the storm!" the Hokage finished solemnly.
"Sprouts, huh," I let out a barely perceptible smirk to myself, accepting the green vest from the assistant's hands.