The written examination was exactly what I'd expected—a psychological warfare designed to test information gathering skills rather than academic knowledge. As I settled into my assigned seat, I quickly scanned the questions and confirmed my suspicions. These weren't meant to be answered through conventional study.
Typical Konoha methodology. Test their ability to cheat without getting caught, then spring the real test at the end.*
I watched as various candidates employed their unique abilities. A Hyuga activated his Byakugan to peer at others' papers. An Aburame's insects crawled across the ceiling, relaying information. Sand siblings' techniques were more subtle—Temari used her fan to create air currents that carried whispered answers, while Kankuro had switched places with his puppet entirely.
Clever. Most wouldn't notice the substitution.*
I opted for a more direct approach, using my enhanced perception to read the micro-expressions and hand movements of the exam proctors. Their body language telegraphed which answers were correct when they glanced at certain papers.
Hiro was sweating bullets beside me, clearly struggling with both the questions and the moral dilemma of cheating. Miki, meanwhile, had already identified three different methods being used around us and was employing her own subtle information gathering.
Twenty minutes in, I had all the answers I needed. The real challenge would be the final question—the psychological pressure test.
And there it is.*
Ibiki stood up, his scarred face intimidating as intended. "Question ten will now be given, but first, I'll explain the rules for this final question."
The atmosphere in the room shifted palpably. Several candidates were already fidgeting nervously.
"First, for this final question, you must decide whether or not to take it."
Confused murmurs rippled through the room.
"Choose? What happens if we choose not to take it?" asked a Sand genin from the back.
Ibiki's smile was anything but reassuring. "If you choose not to take it, your score will be reduced to zero. You fail, along with your teammates."
The room erupted in protests, but Ibiki raised his hand for silence.
"However, there's another rule. If you choose to take it and answer incorrectly, you will lose the right to ever take the Chunin Exams again. You'll remain genin forever."
Brilliant. The ultimate test of a shinobi's resolve under pressure.*
I could see candidates throughout the room beginning to crack. The psychological weight was exactly what Ibiki intended—force them to choose between certain failure now or the risk of permanent failure later.
One by one, hands began to rise as candidates chose to quit rather than risk their futures. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor filled the air as entire teams filed out.
Naruto's going to be the key here. His stubborn refusal to give up will inspire the others.*
Right on cue, Naruto's hand shot up into the air. The room held its breath, but instead of quitting, he slammed his hand down on the desk.
"I don't quit! I'll take your stupid question! Even if I end up a genin forever, I'll still become Hokage someday! I'm not afraid!"
There it is. The push that everyone needed.*
His declaration rippled through the remaining candidates like a wave. I could see the shift in posture, the renewed determination. Naruto's absolute refusal to accept defeat was infectious.
After a few more tense minutes, Ibiki smiled genuinely for the first time. "Congratulations. You all pass the first exam."
The confusion was immediate and vocal.
"What? But what about the tenth question?"
Ibiki's grin widened. "The tenth question... you've already answered it. The question was whether or not you had the guts to accept it, knowing it could destroy your dreams forever. A chunin leader must be able to make decisions under pressure, even when the stakes are impossibly high. Those who chose to quit showed they don't have what it takes."
Before anyone could fully process this revelation, something crashed through the window in an explosion of cloth and kunai. When the purple fabric settled, a woman with spiky purple hair and an excited grin stood before us.
"Alright, you maggots! No time to celebrate! I'm Anko Mitarashi, your proctor for the second exam! Follow me!"
And here comes the real challenge. Thank god, my team mates didn't folded*
The Forest of Death loomed before us like something from a nightmare. Colossal trees stretched impossibly high, their canopy blocking out most of the sunlight and casting everything in an ominous green twilight. The air itself felt thick with danger—the kind of primal atmosphere that made every instinct scream warnings.
"Welcome to Training Ground 44," Anko announced with obvious relish, "also known as the Forest of Death! This will be the site of your second exam!"
She began explaining the rules: five days, survival conditions, Heaven and Earth scrolls. Teams needed both scrolls to advance, meaning conflict was inevitable. The forest was filled with dangerous wildlife, and medical assistance would be minimal.
"Oh, and one more thing," she added with a predatory smile, "people die in these exams. If you're not prepared for that reality, quit now."
Standard intimidation tactics, but the warning is legitimate. The mortality rate for chunin exams is traditionally quite high.*
After signing our liability waivers, we received our scroll—Heaven—and were assigned Gate 27 as our entry point.
"Remember," I told Hiro and Miki as we approached our designated entrance, "we need an Earth scroll to advance. Priority one is locating another team with what we need. Priority two is avoiding unnecessary conflicts that might exhaust us before the real challenges."
"What about the dangerous animals?" Hiro asked, eyeing the forest warily.
"They're the least of our concerns. Other genin are far more dangerous than wildlife."
Though I'm curious to see how my abilities perform against Gaara's sand manipulation. This could be an interesting test of my water skill*
The moment we entered the forest, the atmosphere changed completely. The sounds of civilization vanished, replaced by the subtle rustling of leaves and distant creature calls. Every shadow could hide an enemy, every sound could be a trap.
We'd been moving for barely ten minutes when I sensed them approaching.
"Someone's coming," I warned quietly. "Multiple chakra signatures. Strong ones."
Miki immediately began scanning for escape routes while Hiro tensed, ready for action.
The Sand siblings emerged from the treeline with practiced coordination—Gaara walking point with his gourd, Temari flanking with her fan, Kankuro bringing up the rear with his puppet bundle.
"Well, well," Temari called out with that familiar flirtatious edge to her voice, "if it isn't the pretty boy from earlier. Small forest, isn't it?"
"Not small enough, apparently," I replied, noting how Gaara's pale eyes were already fixed on me with that unsettling intensity.
Without warning, sand began pouring from Gaara's gourd, forming defensive patterns around his siblings. His voice, when he spoke, carried that eerie dual quality that meant Shukaku was close to the surface.
"You... you're not like the others." His head tilted slightly, pale eyes never leaving mine. "There's no fear. No trembling. Why?"
Here we go. He's already analyzing me as a threat.*
"Should there be?" I asked calmly.
The sand around his feet began moving faster, more aggressively. "Everyone fears me. Everyone runs or cowers or begs. But you..." His expression darkened. "You interest me."
Kankuro stepped forward, puppet bundle already partially unwrapped. "Gaara, we just need their scroll. Let's make this quick."
"No." Gaara's voice cut through the air like a blade. "This one... this one might be fun to kill."
And there's the real Gaara. No negotiation, no posturing. Just pure predatory intent.*
Temari's flirtatious demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by genuine concern. "Gaara, maybe we should—"
"Mother wants his blood," Gaara interrupted, his voice taking on that disturbing quality that made it clear Shukaku was influencing him. "She's very excited."
Before anyone could react, I formed a quick sequence of hand seals and slammed my palm against the ground. "Water Style: Underground Shark Jutsu!"
Of course, what they don't know is that I'm not actually using chakra for this technique. The hand seals are purely for show—my control over water is absolute and instinctive.*
Water erupted from what had seemed like completely dry earth, far more than should have been possible from such a small source. The liquid moved with predatory intelligence, forming into shark-shaped projectiles that circled our position like living creatures.
"Impossible," Kankuro breathed, "there's no water source here that large!"
Let them think it's an incredibly advanced jutsu. Better than explaining interdimensional power sets.*
Gaara's response was immediate and violent. Sand erupted from his gourd in massive quantities, far more than the container should have held. He was drawing from underground sources, turning the very earth beneath us into his weapon.
"Sand Coffin!"
Multiple streams of sand shot toward me like striking serpents, each one moving with lethal precision. There was no hesitation, no warning—this was a kill shot from the start.
No holding back then. Good.*
I commanded my water sharks to intercept, the collision creating bursts of mud that splattered across the nearby trees. But Gaara was already moving, sand continuing to pour from every direction as he sought to overwhelm my defenses through sheer volume.
Here we go.*
"Sand Tsunami!"
A massive wave of sand erupted toward us, easily three times the size of what should have been possible from his gourd alone. Gaara was drawing material from deep underground, turning the very earth into his weapon.
But I was ready.
The water sharks I'd created suddenly expanded and merged, forming a defensive wall that met his sand wave head-on. Where the two elements collided, they created a thick, muddy barrier that neutralized both attacks.
Water beats sand in direct confrontation, but his volume is impressive. Time to escalate.*
"Water Style: Great Waterfall Technique!"
I drew moisture from every possible source—tree sap, underground streams, even the humidity in the air—and combined it into a crushing torrent that dwarfed anything a normal shinobi could produce. The waterfall crashed down toward Gaara's position with enough force to level trees.
His response was immediate and terrifying.
"Sand Coffin: Desert Funeral!"
Instead of trying to block my attack, he used it. The moment my water made contact with his sand, he compressed the mixture into incredibly dense projectiles and launched them back at me with exponentially increased force.
Clever. Using my own technique's power against me.*
I dove aside, feeling the mud-sand bullets whistle past close enough to feel their wind pressure. Where they impacted behind me, they left craters in the ancient trees.
"Your water techniques are impressive," Gaara admitted, more sand rising around him in protective layers, "but sand is patient. Sand endures. Sand buries everything eventually."
Let's test that theory.*
This time I didn't bother with hand seals. I simply reached out with my power and pulled every drop of moisture from a half-mile radius. Rivers running deep underground, sap from the massive trees, morning dew still clinging to leaves—all of it answered my call.
The result was beyond anything that should have been possible through conventional jutsu.
A sphere of water thirty feet in diameter materialized above the battlefield, held in perfect suspension by my will alone. The sight of it made even Gaara pause, his pale eyes widening slightly.
"Impossible," Temari breathed. "No one has that much chakra!"
If only they knew I'm not using chakra at all.*
"Your turn," I said simply, and released control.
The water sphere crashed down like a localized tsunami, but this time I maintained enough control to shape it as it fell. Instead of a simple crushing force, the water moved like a living thing—flowing around trees to avoid destroying the forest while focusing its entire impact on Gaara's position.
His response was equally spectacular.
"Ultimate Defense: Sand Shield Absolute!"
Layer upon layer of sand rose to meet my attack, each one denser than the last. The collision created a sound like thunder, and when the impact cleared, Gaara stood in the center of a perfect sphere of compressed sand, completely unharmed.
"Impressive," I acknowledged. "Your defense really is absolute."
But I'd noticed something during the exchange. The way his sand moved, the slight delay between his mental commands and the material's response—there were limits to his control, just like there were limits to mine.
Time to end this before it escalates beyond what these genin can handle.*
Instead of launching another massive attack, I did something unexpected. I gathered water from the muddy battlefield around us and formed it into dozens of thin, precise needles—each one moving independently with surgical precision.
Gaara's sand rose to intercept them, but the needles weren't aimed at him.
They were aimed at his gourd.
The thin streams of water slipped through his sand defenses like liquid lightning, striking the cork that sealed his gourd and shattering it completely. Sand began pouring out in an uncontrolled stream, and I could see the moment Gaara realized what I'd done.
His absolute defense faltered for just an instant—long enough for me to close the distance between us with pure speed.
My fist connected with his solar plexus before his sand could react, and I let just enough repulsion force flow through the strike to shut down his nervous system without permanent damage.
Gaara's eyes went wide with shock, then rolled back as he collapsed unconscious.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Temari stared at her fallen brother in complete disbelief before her gaze snapped to me with something approaching panic.
"Please," she said, dropping to her knees beside Gaara's unconscious form, "please don't kill him. I know he's dangerous, I know what he's done, but he's still my little brother. Please."
I blinked, genuinely surprised by her plea. "Kill him? Why would I—" I scratched the back of my head with an awkward smile, "You're mistaken. I was just looking for this."
I reached into Gaara's pouch and extracted the Earth scroll they'd been carrying.
"That's all?" Kankuro asked incredulously. "You fought Gaara just for a scroll?"
"Well, it is a competition," I pointed out reasonably. "Though I have to admit, your brother is incredibly strong. That was actually fun."
Hiro, who had watched the entire battle with wide eyes, stepped forward. "Are you just going to let them walk away? After they tried to kill us?"
I considered the question seriously for a moment. "I only kill people with evil hearts," I said finally. "They were just doing what they thought they had to do to advance. Can't fault them for that."
Temari looked up at me with an expression I couldn't quite read—gratitude mixed with something else. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Take care of your brother."
I turned and began walking toward the center of the forest, where the tower waited. Behind me, I could hear Temari and Kankuro carefully lifting Gaara's unconscious form.
"At this rate, you might become a Jonin before you even become a chunin" Hiro muttered.
I couldn't help but smile at that. If they only knew the half of it.
The Takigakure team's path to the tower had been anything but peaceful. What should have been a five-day survival challenge had turned into something resembling a natural disaster.
A team of Hidden Grass genin had spotted them and decided the newcomers looked like easy targets. They'd attempted an ambush, using basic earth-style techniques to try and trap the trio.
They hadn't expected Kenji to simply walk through their earth wall like it was made of paper, or for him to end their participation in the exams with three precise strikes that left them unconscious but unharmed.
The second encounter came five minutes later. Hidden Rain genin, more cautious than the first group, had tried a coordinated assault using water techniques and poison needles. Kenji had turned their own water jutsu against them, creating a whirlpool that incapacitated the entire team in seconds.
By the ten-minute mark, word was somehow spreading through the forest. Teams that had planned to wait and observe were panicking, deciding that their only chance was to attack the Takigakure team before they could establish a stronger position.
This led to what could only be described as a feeding frenzy.
Teams from Hidden Sound, Hidden Waterfall, even a desperate group from Hidden Leaf—all converging on Kenji's position simultaneously. The resulting battle had been spectacular and brief. Water techniques that defied all logic, precision strikes that dropped opponents without permanent damage, and a level of tactical awareness that made it clear this wasn't even a challenge for him.
Fifteen minutes in, the attacks stopped. Every remaining team in that section of the forest had either been defeated or had fled to safer territory.
Now, as the tower loomed ahead through the trees, the evidence of their path was impossible to ignore. Unconscious genin lay scattered around the building's perimeter like fallen leaves. Trees bore the marks of massive water techniques. Scorch marks from desperate fire jutsu attempts decorated the ancient stones.
"Kenji," Hiro said nervously as they approached the entrance, "do you think we're supposed to just walk in, or—"
"We walk in," Kenji interrupted, stepping over an unconscious Hidden Sound genin. "The exam instructions were clear. No need to overthink"
The massive doors opened easily, revealing a long corridor that led to what appeared to be a central chamber. As they entered, Kenji could immediately sense the presence of multiple chakra signatures ahead—stronger ones than what they'd encountered among the genin candidates.
The central room was spacious and well-lit, with several chunin instructors positioned around the perimeter. At the center stood a figure I recognized immediately from the descriptions I'd memorized: the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. His presence was unmistakable—the kind of refined power that came from decades of experience.
Interesting. The Hokage personally overseeing arrivals? This must be unusual.*
"Welcome," said a chunin with a scar across his face—Iruka Sensei, based on his appearance, "you've made it to— wait."
He paused, glancing at a timepiece on the wall, then back at us with obvious confusion.
"Twenty minutes?" he said incredulously. "You completed the second exam in twenty minutes?"
The other chunin in the room exchanged glances, and I could see the Hokage's attention focus on us with renewed interest.
Ah. Apparently that's faster than normal.*
"Is that unusual?" I asked politely.
"Unusual?" Iruka stepped closer, studying our group more carefully. "In the entire history of the chunin exams, no team has ever completed the Forest of Death challenge in under four hours. The current record was two and a half hours, set fifteen years ago."
He looked past us toward the entrance, taking in the scene of unconscious genin and forest destruction visible through the doorway.
"Did you three do all of that?"
I followed his gaze to where several teams lay scattered around the tower's entrance, all unconscious but clearly alive and unharmed beyond a few bruises.
"We encountered some competition along the way," I admitted. "Nothing too serious."
Iruka's expression shifted as he took a closer look at our condition. Hiro and Miki showed signs of minor scuffles—torn clothes, a few scrapes, general fatigue from moving quickly through dangerous terrain. But I didn't have so much as a wrinkle in my outfit.
"You have both scrolls?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
I produced both the Heaven scroll we'd started with and the Earth scroll I'd taken from Gaara's team. "Heaven and Earth, as required."
Iruka examined both scrolls carefully, checking for the proper seals and authentication marks. After a moment, he looked up with something approaching awe.
"Congratulations. You've passed the second exam."
Hiro and Miki immediately broke into excited celebrations, discussing their prospects as chunin and what this meant for their future careers. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and several of the observing chunin smiled at their obvious joy.
But I noticed the Hokage had separated himself from the group and was approaching me with measured steps.
Time for the real conversation.*
I moved slightly apart from my celebrating teammates and inclined my head respectfully as the Third Hokage stopped in front of me.
"Hokage-sama," I said formally.
"Kenji of Takigakure," he replied, his weathered face showing both approval and curiosity. "That was an impressive display. Twenty minutes is truly unprecedented."
"Thank you, sir. Though I have to admit, I was expecting the competition to be more challenging. Perhaps I overestimated the level of difficulty."
His eyes crinkled slightly with what might have been amusement. "Confidence is important for a shinobi, but so is understanding one's limits. Tell me, what are your goals in taking these exams?"
Here's the test. Time to play the part of an ambitious but ultimately harmless village shinobi.*
"I want to become strong enough to lead my village someday," I said with practiced earnestness. "Takigakure has always been small, always struggled to maintain relevance in a world dominated by the great nations. I believe with proper leadership and strong shinobi, we could achieve prosperity and security for our people."
The Hokage nodded approvingly. "A noble goal. Your village would be fortunate to have such dedicated leadership."
"Actually, Hokage-sama," I said, lowering my voice slightly, "there's something important I need to discuss with you. Information I came across during my time in the forest. Something I think only you should hear."
His expression immediately became more serious, the grandfatherly warmth replaced by the sharp attention of someone who had led a village through multiple wars.
"What kind of information?"
I glanced around the room, noting the positions of all the chunin instructors, then leaned closer and spoke in barely above a whisper.
"Orochimaru."
The effect was immediate and dramatic. The Hokage's eyes went wide with shock, and the pipe he'd been smoking tumbled from his lips to clatter on the stone floor. For just a moment, I saw the full weight of his fears and memories written across his weathered features.
Instant PTSD, what a rare sight*
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