"I... I don't understand!" one of the eliminated candidates cried out furiously. His whole team had chosen not to answer the ninth question, playing safe. According to Shikaku's words, they were disqualified.
"We don't either!" other failing candidates rose as well, their voices bitter.
Shikaku, however, simply folded his arms. His earlier intimidating sharpness was gone, replaced by calm authority as he addressed them.
"You want an explanation? Then listen. From questions one through eight, each correct answer earns 10 points. That makes a maximum of 80. Question nine is worth 20 points, for a total of 100."
He gestured with his fingers, as if spelling it out for children.
"Those who refused to answer question nine never even had their papers checked. The deputy examiners didn't mark them, didn't even hand you Shinobi Cards. In other words—whether you wrote all eight answers correctly or not—your score stands as insufficient. You failed."
The room practically shook with frustration.
Lucien, however, smirked faintly. So that's the game. Without courage, no progress. The ninth question wasn't about knowledge—it was about resolve.
With his Byakuran, he glanced at Kusuo's hands and relaxed slightly. Kusuo's red face looked relieved as he stared at the glowing number 60 on his Shinobi Card.
"Barely passed…" Lucien thought with a sigh. One more mistake and he would have doomed us all.
Hongdie's card shone even brighter—90.
Lucien's own? A perfect 100.
"Why?" a stubborn voice rang out again. A fearless candidate, despite trembling, still challenged Shikaku. "We answered the eight questions! Isn't it enough to pass? Why do we have to risk the ninth?"
Shikaku's tone turned cold.
"Ridiculous! A child fresh from the Academy could answer those eight questions. Where is the honor in that? Nearly all of you even got the eighth wrong."
His eyes swept the halls. "Don't you understand? If you cannot even step forward without guarantee of success, then on the battlefield you are already dead. A ninja cannot live only chasing certainty. The strongest act even in uncertainty."
His voice deepened, heavy with conviction.
"Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage—he chose death, standing as bait against Kumo's most elite, the Kinkaku and Ginkaku forces, so his comrades could live. He did not run, though the outcome was not guaranteed. That is the essence of being Konoha shinobi."
He drew a long breath, before declaring firmly:
"To be a ninja is not to play safe. Chunin candidates must hold ambition and spirit. Why are you here? Not to pass—not to memorize classroom knowledge. You are here to carry the flame forward!"
He raised a hand, his words thundering with weight that silenced all muttering.
"Where the leaves of Konoha dance, the fire of the will never dies. That flame keeps the village bright, and new leaves always sprout from its light. This—this is the Will of Fire."
The failures flushed with shame. Those without courage to attempt question nine now bowed their heads, dismissed.
Shikaku's gaze swept over Lucien, lingered, and then pulled away. For the boy held in his hand not only strength—but unwavering decision.
"Candidates who passed the first exam, remain seated. Those eliminated, leave. Only when you can inherit the Will of Fire may you return for promotion."
One by one, the failed Genin left with slumped shoulders, their teammates following. Soon, the eliminated had cleared out, and new faces flowed into the exam hall.
Lucien saw them arrive, familiar ones among them: Obito, Rin, Kakashi. Guy, still radiating burning energy. Others—rivals, friends, and enemies—all stood with proud gazes.
All had passed. The true competition was only beginning.
Then, the atmosphere hushed instantly.
A man stepped through the doors. White hair. A kunai strapped at his side. Cold, sharp eyes that seemed to cut just by gazing—yet softened with quiet bearing. On his shoulder gleamed half an armband: the mark of a Hokage's trusted caliber.
Shigure felt the air still. He knew the man's face even before his name was said.
"White... Fang...?" Kakashi whispered aloud, shock staining his young voice.
Kusuo's whole body stiffened. "Un... Uncle..."
Hatake Sakumo—Konoha's renowned White Fang, greater in repute even than the Sannin—entered with the quiet gravity of a legend, instantly respected by all.
Nara Shikaku inclined his head politely. "Lord White Fang, all is ready. Please proceed."
Sakumo gave a slight nod. "How many groups remain?"
"Forty groups, sir. Close to half eliminated."
"As expected." White Fang's gaze swept across every young candidate, weighed them silently, then he spoke.
"Congratulations. You've passed the first trial. My name is Hatake Sakumo, known as White Fang of Konoha. I will be chief examiner of the second stage."
His voice was calm, yet his presence stronger than roaring thunder.
"When we move to the next examination grounds, order will be determined by your written test ranks. Highest scores enter first. For ties—lots will be drawn. That is all." His sharp eyes glinted. "Understand?"
"YES!" The collective answer resounded powerfully, the remaining Genin standing straighter in response.
And thus, the Will of Fire burned brighter in their eyes, as Konoha's future generation stepped forward toward their next trial.
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