"Is this guy a genius or just hopeless?" Uchiha Shigure muttered under his breath, staring at his teammate. "The names of the Three Legendary Sannin of Konoha are… Sarutobi Hiruzen, Senju Hashirama, and Hatake Saku?"
His brow twitched in annoyance.
"The other answers are fine, but… really?! Jiraiya himself completed an A-rank mission with us not long ago! How could you mess that up?"
Shigure clenched his fist under the desk, suppressing the urge to slam it down. Up until now, he had thought Hatake Kusuo was being modest whenever he mentioned failing the written exam at the Academy. Only now was it dawning on him—it wasn't modesty at all. It was the crushing weight of truth.
"To make mistakes is one thing," Shigure muttered, rubbing his forehead as if in pain, "but how do you cover up your own father's name on the exam? That's beyond exaggeration!"
No matter how strong Shigure was on the battlefield, this time he could only stare helplessly at Kusuo, who sat slumped over his desk, chewing nervously on the end of his pen.
Around them, the atmosphere in the examination hall grew increasingly tense. Some candidates scribbled furiously, as though solving the questions were child's play. Others moved slowly, cautiously rereading every line, hesitant to commit to an answer—especially the dreaded ninth question.
Suddenly, the sharp whistle of a kunai cut through the room.
Thwack!
The blade embedded itself in front of a Genin's exam paper, pinning it flat to the desk. The candidate jumped as though struck by lightning.
"W-what… what happened?!" he stammered, his voice cracking.
A grim-faced Chūnin invigilator appeared beside him, crossing his arms sternly. His cold voice echoed across the room:
"Cheaters will be disqualified from the Chūnin Exams. Permanently."
"I-I didn't cheat!" the Genin cried, but his frantic words only made him look more guilty.
"Teammates of the disqualified will also step out of the examination hall," the Chūnin continued.
The candidate squirmed but refused to leave, panic in his eyes. His lips trembled as if trying to explain—but before the words could form, the Chūnin vanished in a blur.
In an instant, the boy was ripped from his seat and tossed halfway across the hall, landing with a humiliating thud near the doors.
The sheer decisiveness of the act sent a ripple of silence across the entire room.
"Pitiful."
"Disgraceful."
"Idiot didn't even hide it well…"
The murmur of judgment among the remaining examinees carried enough weight to crush the pride of any young ninja. The expelled boy's teammates slipped away quietly, their shoulders heavy with shame. None dared raise their voices—not with the proctors watching like hawks.
More than a few candidates who had been considering underhanded tricks promptly abandoned the thought.
From the examiner's desk, Nara Shikaku, famed as Konoha's foremost strategist, let out a quiet sigh. "To think some of you would risk it against such simple questions… troublesome."
Shigure's Sharingan shifted slightly, scanning Kusuo's paper from afar. What he saw nearly made him choke. Kusuo had managed to get half the questions wrong. Out of eight, only four correct.
"Forty points…" Shigure calculated grimly. Unless Kusuo answered the ninth question—and answered correctly—Team J's entire participation in the next stage was in jeopardy.
This is bad. If he blanks on it, we're done.
In the original Chūnin Exams, Shigure vaguely remembered, Naruto had passed despite leaving every answer blank. That test's chief examiner, Ibiki, valued mental resilience under psychological warfare more than the written content. But this time, the man presiding was Shikaku—a completely different caliber of mind.
Shikaku was not only the father of Shikamaru but a military genius whose name would later be etched into the foundations of Konoha. A man recognized as one of the Hokage's most trusted advisors, capable of commanding entire armies at the warfront. Trying to guess his motives was like trying to catch clouds with bare hands.
"The first eight are finished," Shikaku declared after a long silence. "Now comes the most important decision—whether to attempt the ninth question."
Gasps echoed across the hall.
"If you wish to attempt it, simply write YES under the eighth question," he instructed evenly. "If not, then write NO."
He steepled his fingers, eyes surveying every nervous face.
"But be warned. If you believe your total score is too low, and you are too afraid of failing question nine, this is your last chance to bow out of the exams—right now, voluntarily."
The effect was instantaneous. More than a few Genin let out pained sighs, slamming their pens down. One by one, candidates filed out quietly. It quickly became clear that Shikaku had slipped subtle plants among the examinees—decoys whose withdrawal only heightened the psychological pressure on real candidates.
Shigure narrowed his eyes. "Clever. Those who gave up weren't all fakes. Some of them were genuine fools who just… followed the crowd."
He let out a low, disappointed sigh, sounding far older than his years: "With that kind of weak-mindedness, they're not fit to be Chūnin."
Without hesitation, Shigure's pen scratched out YES at the bottom of his paper. His Sharingan told him enough—not everyone was so bold. A scattering of students had opted for the "safe" path and marked NO, betting that their existing scores were already passing.
Beside him, Hyūga Akane glanced at him briefly before copying the same word. They had agreed beforehand to stand or fall together.
Kusuo, however, lingered. His fingers trembled over the page. With only forty points in hand, the risk was clear. Without the ninth, he had no chance. Finally, biting his lip, he curled his brush and wrote YES.
"That's better," Shigure whispered with relief. "We're still in this."
Minutes passed in uneasy silence until Shikaku gave a glance toward his aides. The deputy examiners moved row by row, collecting papers and leaving behind strange red cards marked with a single black kanji: 忍.
Candidates exchanged nervous looks. Those who had written NO received nothing at all.
When Shigure held the card in hand, he instantly sensed it—chakra was flowing through it, like a barrier of faint energy. He turned it over, frowning.
"Some kind of sealing array?" he wondered. "Or maybe… the question itself will appear?"
Speculation ran rampant across the classroom.
Finally, once all cards were distributed, Shikaku rose. His hands formed a seal, his voice carrying deep authority:
"Are you ready? Open!"
The instant he spoke, a flare of chakra coursed across the room. Shigure's card pulsed in his palm—the black kanji shimmered, swirling into a luminous set of green numbers.
"100."
For a long second, Shigure could only stare. A perfect score?
Gasps and exclamations erupted everywhere as each candidate's card flickered alive. Some revealed numbers in glowing green, others flashed ominous red scores.
The cardless Genin stared in bewilderment, whispering furiously.
"What's going on?"
"Where's the ninth question?"
"What are these numbers supposed to mean?!"
Shikaku's calm voice silenced them instantly.
"Quiet."
In the silence, his next words fell like hammer blows.
"First of all—congratulations. Candidates holding Shinobi Cards with green numbers have passed." His sharp gaze lingered on the nervous faces, unblinking. "You have successfully cleared the written exam."
Those with glowing green numbers exhaled, relief sweeping over them.
Shikaku's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing.
"As for anyone without a Shinobi Card… or those whose numbers appeared in red—unfortunately, you and your entire team are hereby eliminated."
The announcement dropped like a kunai to the heart. Murmurs erupted, some angry, some despairing. Another wave of teams began filing out, shoulders slumped.
Shigure's eyes remained fixed on the glowing green score in his palm, heart hammering. Their team had survived. For now. But something about Shikaku's sly smirk—and the sheer cunning of the test—left him uneasy.
Because if this was just the first stage… what kind of trials awaited them next?
--
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