Although Uchiha Hayashi knew his classmates each had their quirks, he hadn't expected them to be this reckless.
Minato shot him a worried glance, his eyes asking the question without words. "What now? With this many people involved, won't it be too obvious?"
Hayashi smirked and leaned closer. "Relax. The more of us there are, the less chance we'll get caught. Even if punishment comes, they can't discipline everyone at once. At worst, we just blame it on Uchiha Ryo and his group. We say they incited us. It's the perfect setup."
Minato chuckled. "As expected of you, Hayashi. No one can beat you in underhanded tactics."
"Call it foresight," Hayashi replied with mock pride.
Now all they needed was the right opportunity. The plan was simple: toss smoke bombs and small explosive tags toward the podium, then slip out unnoticed.
"Now then," Nishimura droned from the front, chalk squeaking against the board, "the intensity of a Fire Release is directly proportional to chakra output. However, the affected area also influences the scorching level. Thus, the formula…"
With his back turned, it was their perfect chance. Chairs creaked as students quietly lifted themselves, Hayashi already palming a smoke bomb from his pouch—
"No one move!"
"Eh—?!"
In an instant, Nishimura had sensed them. His commanding voice froze the room.
Impossible! How had he noticed?
"You brats… daring to escape right under my nose. Bold indeed. Do you find my class so unbearable?" His voice lowered, disappointment etched across his face. "Pathetic. You're the worst class I've ever taught."
He turned slowly, muscles rippling beneath his uniform. His sharp eyes scanned the room like a hawk.
As expected of Nishimura. A monster among Chūnin. He had detected their scheme from the subtle vibrations in the air itself.
Who would be the unlucky one to face his wrath first?
The tension snapped when he sighed instead. "What I'm teaching you are authentic Chūnin exam questions, ones I've carefully preserved. Not even the study books sold outside, like Five Years of Chūnin, Three Years of Practice, or the famous Eighteen Lectures for Chūnin, are as comprehensive as mine. And yet, you still want to skip? Perhaps you should give up being ninjas entirely…"
He paused, his voice dropping. "Relations between villages grow tense. The borders may soon erupt into war. By the time you graduate, you may already be stepping onto the battlefield."
Nishimura's lecture shifted, heavy with forewarning, but no one was moved. His guilt-tripping no longer worked.
"…It seems I've been boring you." He folded his arms. "That's my failure as a teacher. I apologize. But if you insist, perhaps an old story will hold your attention. A story that shows you the reality of war."
The students exchanged cautious looks. A story? That sounded… better than more equations.
"That summer, over ten years ago," Nishimura began gravely, "I was only a little older than you are now. I had just graduated from the Academy. My comrade Might Duy and I set out on a mission…"
Several groans went unheard.
"It was the First Great Ninja War. Our jōnin leader was away, and manpower was scarce. Duy and I, two freshly-minted genin, were assigned a C-rank escort—to protect a young girl. But disaster struck. A Chūnin from the Land of Lightning intercepted us. His name was Yotsuki Ryutō, younger brother of the Third Raikage."
He stretched out his hands for emphasis. "The man was over two meters tall. His wrist alone was thicker than a girl's waist. Yet Duy and I would never yield!"
Nishimura's voice swelled, full of passion. "At the time, I stood one meter seventy-eight, while Duy and I had bodies forged from sweat and training. We clashed with him directly, taijutsu against taijutsu. The air itself crackled with the fire of youth! Three men, colliding again and again, gritting teeth, straining muscle, refusing to break!"
Students winced. The imagery was unbearable.
"Stop, please! Spare us!"
"My head! It hurts!"
Nishimura's exaggerated tale grated on their ears like kunai scraping glass. His words struck harder than genjutsu, wearing down their sanity. It was almost like torture—an S-rank oral jutsu.
"But Ryutō was strong," Nishimura went on relentlessly. "His taijutsu was formidable. He seized my hand in the Wrist Reverse Cross Hold, intending to crush me. But how could he defeat the proud biceps Duy and I had trained for years? Even drenched in sweat, gasping for breath, we resisted!"
"Realizing brute strength alone would fail, he unleashed a powerful move—Mountain Crusher! He leapt above me, crashing down like a landslide. His chest hair pressed against my face as he attempted his Head Burst technique. In that instant, I was a millimeter from death!"
"Enough! Please stop! I can't erase these images!"
Uchiha Ryo clutched his head and collapsed, overcome by the grotesque imagery. His imagination betrayed him, and he fainted dead away.
"Ryo! Get up!" his companion Uchiha Yutaka shouted in panic.
"Move aside, I'll give him artificial respiration!" Uchiha Rei declared.
"Air! We need air!" another voice cried.
The classroom had descended into chaos. Students foamed, groaned, and rolled their eyes in despair. Nawaki twitched violently beside Hayashi, covering his ears as if in mortal agony.
Even Hayashi felt his will faltering, but then Nishimura's sharp gaze locked onto him. The teacher seemed to know exactly who had stirred up the rebellion. A chill ran down Hayashi's spine. That gaze alone was enough to freeze him back into silence.
Just then, a soft thump broke the tension. Kushina stirred awake at her desk, wiping drool from her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Mm? What's going on?" she mumbled, blinking sleepily at the sight of the classroom in ruin.
Silence answered her.
The true terror of Nishimura's story had struck them all.
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