Hinata Hizashi's voice carried a firm weight as he addressed his students.
"I've already explained what I can. The written test is about rules and knowledge—but remember, a Chūnin must also prove their strength in true combat. There will be fighting." His gaze swept across the three genin, sharp but not unkind.
"Any questions about the exam process?" Hizashi asked once more. Silence hung in the air. None of the young shinobi spoke up. With a short nod, Hizashi continued.
"Very well. One week from now, report to the Konoha waiting hall at eight in the morning. Be prepared for the written test promptly at nine. The examiner will announce the results immediately. Those who pass will be escorted directly to the preliminary round."
He paused, then gave each of his genin a personal directive.
"Kusuo, go find Master Huiya in the coming days and work on your swordsmanship. If you pass, you'll need it for the preliminaries."
"Akane, you'll continue Hyūga-ryū taijutsu training with me."
His eyes shifted to Shigure. He faltered. "…As for you, Shigure… I suppose you'll train on your own."
Hizashi inwardly acknowledged the truth—neither he nor his brother could keep up with Shigure anymore. Outside of the Hokage himself, there were few in the village who could still guide him. Swordsmanship training in a single week would be pointless. For Shigure, this coming exam was less about ability and more about control.
The team dispersed soon after, each heading home to prepare for the stressful week ahead.
Preparations
One week was barely a heartbeat. Hizashi had been clear: a style like the Hatake kenjutsu couldn't be mastered in days. Shigure, therefore, set aside the idea of using the Meteor Sword. It wasn't practical for him at this stage.
Instead, he invested his previous B-rank mission reward into forging specialized kunai, perfectly tailored for his needs. Through experimentation, he quickly realized what the Yellow Flash had long understood: the Flying Thunder God Technique worked far more effectively with kunai than with shuriken.
Shuriken were simply too light and flew too short a distance. For Shigure, the teleportation would be pointless unless he could travel significant ranges.
With practiced patience, he carved his seals into the new kunai before storing them neatly in his pouch. Every one of them carried his chakra signature—the anchor for his Flying Thunder God.
Unlike others before him, Shigure had refined the process. A mere touch was enough. By pressing his hand to a weapon or surface, he could instantly inscribe his chakra mark. He reflected on the difference. The Second Hokage had used complex patterns, while Minato's seals were stylized characters. Shigure, however, went further, blending the principles into something smaller, subtler, and harder to detect.
Through countless trials, he condensed his Flying Thunder God mark into a shape no larger than a magatama bead—barely noticeable unless scrutinized with intent. That small victory brought him quiet satisfaction.
But there were limits. If the marked object was placed too far from him, the tether grew faint. At his current age and reservoir of chakra, there was only so much range and power he could exert. Strength would come in time—but for now, patience and creativity had to compensate.
"Still," Shigure thought as he inspected the gleaming pale marks on his kunai, "the enemy won't even realize they've been tagged. And once they are… escape becomes impossible."
There were only two ways such a mark could be undone.
"One… I remove it myself. No one else can interfere with my chakra."
"The second… becoming a Six Paths-level being, mastering Yin-Yang Release. In the original history, only when Obito merged with the Ten-Tails could he erase Minato's mark."
Shigure gave a faint smile. In this era, even Madara was not yet at that divine level. The Flying Thunder God was his to wield without fear.
Beyond Space-Time
Yet training did not stop at teleportation alone. Shigure continued his exhausting daily regimen. Shadow Clones allowed him to double the workload, honing each hand seal until it became sheer instinct.
He demanded precision. Every jutsu required flawless execution, the hand signs performed without hesitation or error. To simply mirror what others had done before wasn't enough—he needed mastery that would carry him one step beyond.
Every day, he practiced seals a thousand times over, driving his fingers to obey faster, smoother, sharper. His progress was measured in fractions of a second. But in the ruthless reality of ninja combat, even a tenth of a second could mean the space between life and death.
And so the week flew by.
Before long, Shigure made time to inform those close to him. He found Hoshiko, the little sister figure who cheered for him unfailingly, and Amamiya Mizuki.
"Brother, you can do it!" Hoshiko encouraged, clenching her tiny fists with determination. "When you reach the finals, I'll be there cheering louder than anyone! Sister Mizuki, you'll come too, right?"
Mizuki's eyes softened. "Of course I will. Shigure… you'll succeed. I believe it."
Their words brought him a quiet warmth. With a grateful nod, he bid them farewell. In the next instant, his form blurred and reappeared—teleporting swiftly between prepared markers until he stood before the doors of the Chūnin Exam hall.
Gathering of Rivals
The first sight that greeted him was Kusuo Hatake.
In just one week, Kusuo had visibly changed. His stance was firmer, his chakra broader, his eyes sharper. Shigure could imagine the grueling training behind it. Huiya must have driven him mercilessly—determined to mold him into a worthy successor of the Hatake style.
Kusuo wasn't alone. Standing nearby with the same silver-white hair was Kakashi, taller, older, his calm presence contrasting Kusuo's simmering intensity. Both had their faces obscured. Even without words, the unspoken rivalry crackled in the air between them.
Then—
"Shigure! Hey!"
A cheerful voice rang out. Shigure turned and spotted Uchiha Obito, windproof goggles perched crookedly on his head. His expression was as guileless as always.
Obito ran toward him eagerly, only to trip over an unseen foot and slam unceremoniously into the ground. Sprawled face-first, he let out a groan.
"…Seriously?" Kakashi muttered, scratching the back of his head.
"Owww! That hurt!" Obito exclaimed, clutching his swelling forehead.
Nohara Rin hurried forward, worry etched across her face. "Are you okay, Obito?"
A chorus of snickers answered her.
"Hahaha!" Several mocking voices echoed from a group gathering nearby. Black hair, dark eyes, the distinct Uchiha crest upon their uniforms.
"The class dunce and the clan's reject—what a perfect pair!" sneered one of the older boys, perhaps fifteen at most. His eyes glittered with contempt.
Obito flushed red with embarrassment, especially with Rin watching. Fury blazed in his chest.
"You bastard!" he growled, fists clenched as he lunged toward the older Uchiha.
Shigure stood silent, taking in the scene. His sharp gaze flicked between Obito, Rin, and the gathered bullies. The tension in the hall was building like storm clouds, promising that this was only the beginning.
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