Kankuro observed Naruto with undisguised amusement, his painted lips curved in a mocking smile. From his earlier reconnaissance, he had determined that the Hokage's son struggled with theoretical knowledge and lacked finesse in information gathering.
The strategy was elegantly simple: prevent Naruto's teammates from transmitting information to him, and his entire team would be eliminated from the exams. This wasn't officially sanctioned by the Sand Village as a tactic against the Fourth Hokage's offspring—rather, it stemmed from Kankuro's personal grievance. The arrogance Naruto had displayed during their earlier confrontation had left the puppeteer with a bitter taste of humiliation.
Let's see what you can do now, little hero, Kankuro thought smugly. Naruto's angry glare meant nothing to him—what could the boy possibly do in the middle of a strictly monitored examination?
Naruto's fingers tightened around his pencil as he struggled to control his mounting frustration. The examination hall offered no opportunity for retaliation; he could only swallow his indignation and focus on finding another solution.
"That's just too cruel," came a soft yet unexpectedly firm voice from beside him.
Hinata's quiet comment carried a rare note of anger. With her Byakugan, she had easily observed the entire exchange—how Shin had attempted to relay answers to Naruto, only to have his ink constructs deliberately destroyed by Kankuro's interference.
Naruto turned to her in surprise, momentarily startled by the emotion in her typically timid voice.
Meeting his gaze, Hinata offered, "Naruto-kun, if you don't mind... you can look at my answers."
"Really? Is that okay?" Naruto asked, his expression brightening instantly.
"Yes," Hinata nodded gently, a soft determination replacing her usual hesitancy.
Though still furious at Kankuro's sabotage, Naruto recognized that passing the exam took precedence over settling personal scores. He gratefully shifted his attention to Hinata's paper, where neat handwriting had already filled most of the answer spaces.
Just as he began to read her responses, an examiner approached their section, moving deliberately down the aisle to Hinata's left. The chunin's eyes fixed pointedly on Naruto, clearly having spotted their interaction.
Naruto's reflexes proved exceptional—he immediately averted his gaze from Hinata's paper, returning to his own work with such natural casualness that even the examiner seemed impressed by his quick response.
While the true purpose of the exam was to test candidates' ability to gather intelligence without detection, blatantly copying from a neighboring desk would hardly qualify as skilled information acquisition. The proctors expected creative solutions and subtle techniques—which was why they intentionally overlooked the various jutsu being employed throughout the room.
Yet Naruto, despite his quick reaction, still hadn't grasped the underlying nature of the test. The prospect of a written examination had consumed his focus entirely, preventing him from seeing the bigger picture.
After witnessing Kankuro's interference, Shin attempted a new approach. He dispatched additional ink insects along alternate routes, hoping to bypass the puppeteer's blockade and deliver the answers to Naruto.
However, this second attempt at communication was similarly thwarted—this time by another Sand ninja positioned behind Naruto. The shinobi shifted position with suspicious timing, crushing the ink construct before it could reach its destination.
Kankuro's smile widened as he observed Shin's mounting frustration. What Shin couldn't know was that the person who had intercepted this second attempt wasn't actually a Sand genin at all—it was one of Kankuro's puppets, disguised as a human competitor. Strategically positioned to flank Naruto from both front and back, Kankuro and his puppet effectively created a blockade around the Hokage's son, cutting off all conventional avenues for information transmission.
Shin's expression darkened as he assessed the situation. With methodical precision, he released the remaining ink insects he had prepared before the exam—his last reserves. Yet no matter what trajectory he calculated, his constructs couldn't circumvent the positions occupied by Kankuro and his disguised puppet.
Observing Shin's persistence, Kankuro decided to end this game definitively. Positioning one hand beneath the examination table, he subtly manipulated his fingers, generating thin strands of chakra threads glowing with a deep blue luminescence. These chakra threads, the hallmark technique of puppet masters, would allow him to intercept and destroy any further attempts at communication.
Just as his chakra threads began to extend, however, something unexpected occurred. Fine grains of sand materialized beneath his feet, gradually coalescing into a barrier that physically blocked the extension of his puppet strings.
Kankuro's pupils contracted in sudden alarm. The manipulation of sand was a technique exclusive to one individual—Gaara. The implications of this intervention sent a cold wave of fear through his body.
The sand continued to move with purpose, reshaping itself beside Kankuro's seat to form distinct symbols—a message meant only for him to read:
[If you continue these meaningless games, I will kill you.]
Kankuro's breath caught in his throat as his mind conjured Gaara's impassive face and emotionless voice delivering this deadly promise. Pure terror flickered in his eyes, and a visible shudder passed through his frame.
He dared not defy Gaara's command. Immediately, he retracted his chakra threads and ceased all interference, allowing Shin's last messenger insect to reach Naruto unimpeded.
Finally receiving the transmitted information, Naruto hastily filled in the first nine questions according to the answers provided. Only then did he notice the peculiar format of the tenth question:
[The topic for question ten will be revealed 45 minutes after the examination begins. Please wait for the examiner's instructions before answering.]
"What's this about?" Naruto wondered, glancing at the clock.
According to the instructions, less than ten minutes remained until the revelation of the tenth question. Around the room, most candidates had completed their responses to the first nine questions, while numerous others had already been disqualified for excessive or blatant cheating.
"Time's almost up," the scarred examiner announced, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Forty-five minutes have elapsed."
Every pencil in the room halted as attention shifted to the front.
"Now," Ibiki declared, "I will explain the rules for the tenth question."
The atmosphere in the examination hall grew heavy with anticipation as all candidates focused intently on the proctor's words.
"Before I give you the question, I must first outline several special rules that apply exclusively to question ten," he continued, his scarred face impassive. "First, you each have the right to choose whether or not to attempt this question."
Confused murmurs rippled through the room.
"If you choose to decline," Ibiki explained, "your score will immediately be reduced to zero, and you and your teammates will fail this examination."
The candidates exchanged glances. With such consequences, the choice seemed obvious—everyone would surely attempt the question.
"However," the examiner continued, his voice taking on an ominous quality, "should you choose to answer the tenth question and fail to do so correctly, you will be barred from participating in the Chunin Exams for the remainder of your life."
"That's absurd!" one candidate called out, unable to contain his protest. "There are people here who have taken the Chunin Exams multiple times before!"
"Heh," Ibiki's lips curled into a cold smile. "It's simply your misfortune that I'm establishing the rules this year. In previous exams, you didn't have me as your proctor."
His imposing presence seemed to expand as he surveyed the room. "This creates a straightforward choice for you all. If you opt not to take the question, you fail now but retain the opportunity to try again in future examinations."
"But," he emphasized, "if you choose to proceed and answer incorrectly, you condemn yourself to remain a genin forever. Choose wisely."
As his words settled over the room, visible uncertainty spread across many faces. The risk was considerable—a lifetime confined to genin rank versus a temporary setback and another chance later.
"I... I give up," a voice finally broke the silence. A genin raised his hand, face etched with regret and fear. "I'm sorry, but I can't risk it."
His decision triggered a cascade of surrenders. More hands went up around the room, each candidate unwilling to gamble their entire future on a single question. As each withdrew, they and their teammates were dismissed from the hall, faces reflecting mixtures of relief, disappointment, and in some cases, barely concealed fury at their teammate's unilateral decision.
Naruto felt the weight of indecision pressing down on him. If he chose to attempt the question and failed, he would forfeit his dream of surpassing his father and becoming Hokage. Yet refusing would mean making a choice on behalf of Chiharu and Shin as well—forcing their elimination despite their hard work and preparation.
"Is there anyone else who wishes to withdraw from the tenth question?" Ibiki surveyed the remaining candidates, his intimidating presence driving home the gravity of their decision.
Seated at his desk, Naruto clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. Despite the risks, something deep within him refused to yield. His dream of becoming a greater Hokage than Minato wasn't merely ambition—it was a driving force that defined him. Surrendering now, before even facing the challenge, would render that dream hollow and meaningless.
He glanced sideways at Hinata, one of the few remaining at their table. Though her trademark shyness remained evident in her posture, her eyes reflected steadfast resolve. There was no hint of retreat in her gaze, only quiet determination.
Seeing her courage solidified Naruto's decision. The last traces of hesitation evaporated from his mind. Even if failure meant remaining a genin forever, he would face this challenge head-on.
He would never retreat from the battlefield—not now, not ever.