First Round
That evening, Homura Mitokado convened the thirteen participants selected to represent Konoha in the upcoming Chūnin Exams. He outlined the procedures for the next day's test, offered words of encouragement, and dismissed them afterward to rest.
However, before Shirō could leave, Homura gave him a specific instruction—to skip his nightly training. The elder had noticed Shirō's recent surge in training intensity and, while impressed, realized it had only started recently. Continuing that intensity now would risk mental and physical fatigue for the written exam.
Shirō, of course, didn't object. In his view, it was wise to follow orders—especially when those orders came from someone who could clearly see through his habits. If his behavior went unnoticed, it was one thing. But if it was noticed and he didn't comply, he'd just be asking for trouble.
So, that night, Shirō restricted himself to light meditation and refined his two primary types of Magecraft. He avoided Barrier Magic entirely. To be fair, he was a bit drained anyway—he'd used Projection Magic extensively earlier in the day.
---
The night passed without incident.
At dawn, after cleaning up and eating, Shirō and his team headed to the Chūnin Exams hall. The first round was a written test, which had the most participants, so they made sure to arrive early to avoid any mishaps.
Coincidentally, the seating arrangement placed Shirō's team and Minato's team in the same examination room. When they heard the news, both groups let out subtle sighs of relief.
Shirō's team was glad Minato was there—as a safety net. If Shirō couldn't answer something, he could potentially signal Minato. As for Shikamaru? Forget it—if he even completed the test, it'd be a miracle.
Minato's team, on the other hand, still had blind faith in Shikamaru, particularly due to his Nara lineage. While they acknowledged Minato's brilliance, they assumed that, in terms of theory and test-taking, a Nara would naturally excel. What they forgot was that Nara's laziness was just as legendary as their intellect.
By the time Shirō arrived at the exam hall, several teams were already there. Clearly, no one wanted to be disqualified for being late.
Bored, Shirō scanned the crowd. But since everyone was seated and quiet, it was hard to gauge much. No recognizable faces stood out. As expected, most of these people would end up as background characters in the grander story.
One thing did catch his attention—the Amegakure (Rain) Ninja from yesterday looked much more subdued. It seemed someone had disciplined them. Still, one of them cast a resentful glance at Shirō that didn't go unnoticed.
"Interesting," Shirō murmured with a small smirk. "Looks like there'll be drama soon."
At that moment, the chief proctor entered. He had a stern, almost oppressive presence. Placing down a stack of papers, he addressed the room:
> "This test consists of 10 questions. Cheating is strictly prohibited."
He motioned to the various chūnin examiners stationed around the room.
> "They will be observing you closely. Each confirmed act of cheating results in a 10-point deduction. Get caught three times, and you'll be disqualified."
He continued:
> "Your team's combined score is what matters. As long as your total score meets the passing threshold, your team passes—even if one member scores poorly. But if you fail to reach the minimum combined score, the next round will pit you against a team of three—possibly two-on-three or even one-on-three."
> "That's all. The rest is up to you. The exam begins now."
---
Shirō wasn't particularly surprised by the format. He had studied past Chūnin Exam structures. The first round was always a test of intelligence gathering, where knowledge wasn't just in the answers—it was in how you got them.
While the specific rules varied year to year, one constant was that the questions were absurdly difficult. Only ninjas from theoretical units like the Barrier Squad, Medical Corps, or Sealing Teams could usually answer them fully.
Typically, examiners planted individuals who did know the answers into the crowd, essentially as "templates" for others to copy from—if they were skilled enough.
Normally, Shirō's team wouldn't have to worry, but unfortunately, Shikamaru's specialty was calculations, and the exam had barely any of those.
So Shirō and Taiyi had to fend for themselves and find "templates" to copy, like everyone else.
Shirō sighed. If only this were Naruto's generation, he thought. I could've just handed in a blank paper and passed.
Putting that thought aside, he studied the paper—he didn't recognize a single question.
Time to improvise.
Shirō scanned the room subtly, looking for a potential target. It wasn't hard to find one—the real challenge was getting the answers undetected.
Raising his hand, he requested to go to the restroom. The proctor narrowed his eyes and nodded, sending two chūnin to escort him. They monitored him closely the entire time.
Shirō didn't act suspiciously. But when he returned, there was a second forehead protector tucked subtly into his clothing—stolen or copied with Projection Magic, it was hard to tell.
Meanwhile, Taiyi had already activated his Sharingan and began copying from someone effortlessly. As an Uchiha, it wasn't surprising.
Shikamaru? He answered the three calculation problems and promptly fell asleep.
He had done the math: his answers were guaranteed correct. Shirō and Taiyi could collectively gather enough points—at least 160 combined. The passing threshold was 180, so his contribution of 30 guaranteed points made just enough difference.
As Shikamaru snoozed, the proctor nearby kept glancing at him with a twitching eye.
Across the room, other candidates were also resorting to their own strategies—some clever, some reckless. Ninja from across the Elemental Nations used chakra threads, insects, mirrors, and even summoned animals to cheat.
Some techniques were obvious, but unless they crossed a hard line, the proctors let it slide—after all, this test was about stealth and subtlety, not just answers.
Still, candidates were disqualified regularly. One by one, examinees were escorted out of the rooms—most of them either rogue-ninja or Sunagakure participants.
It wasn't too surprising. Wandering ninja lacked systematic training and were often unprepared. As for Sunagakure, despite being the host, they'd accepted a large number of participants. It didn't matter how many failed—only that the strong made it to the final round.
Villages like Konoha, Iwagakure, and Kirigakure sent elites, so their dropouts were rare. But Sunagakure let in many, which explained the numbers.
As for the smaller villages, like Kusagakure or Takigakure, their genin were far more cautious. Losing face this early in front of major nations was a dishonor their leaders wouldn't forgive.
Through all this, Minato's team stood out. They worked diligently, their expressions calm and focused. As civilians who had climbed to this level, they couldn't afford to fail.
Their efforts hadn't gone unnoticed—they were being copied from by several teams.
But despite their strong performance, their answers weren't perfect. Anyone depending on them would be in for a rude awakening.