The Uzumaki trio passed through the corridor, pushed open the heavy door, and finally stepped into the long-awaited room 301.
The first impression was… strange.
"Whoa," Karin breathed, eyes widening.
Before them stretched a spacious hall, packed to the brim with genin from all over the world. Some lounged on windowsills, some perched on desks, others sprawled right on the floor. But that wasn't what drew the eye most. The main thing was—what they were all wearing.
Next to this parade of madness, Rock Lee in his green skintight spandex looked like the pinnacle of modest taste and high fashion. The girls still managed to keep some balance—unusual accessories, bright ribbons, new vests. But the boys…
Menma barely held back a grimace.
Some had wrapped themselves in bandages as if preparing for a mummy contest instead of the chunin exams. Others clinked with chest plates weighed down by chains of dangling trinkets. And one guy strutted around in a fur coat like he'd just escaped from the winter market.
Menma felt his eyelid twitch. [Yeah, I get it. Age. Hormones. The need to stand out. Plenty of pretty kunoichi around… But why dress up like a peacock? What's next, someone shows up in a wedding dress to really make a statement?]
The Uzumaki trio wisely slipped to the wall, away from the door and the crush of bodies. But they barely had time to catch their breath before three Grass genin swaggered toward them.
A tall, lanky guy in baggy gray clothes. A bald, stocky bruiser with a massive backpack slung over his shoulders. And a plain-looking black-haired girl who kept half-hiding behind the others.
At the sight of them, Karin flinched and stepped back half a pace.
"Familiar?" Menma asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the approaching trio.
"We studied together at the academy," Karin whispered, and her voice trembled. "I was supposed to end up on their team…"
Menma gave a short nod. His face was unreadable, but inside the locks of premonition were already snapping into place: nothing good would come of this.
The closer the Grass genin came, the more their walk shifted. From a distance, they'd looked cocky, but up close the subconscious tension showed. The twins, with their animal-like features, radiated the presence of predators.
"Hello, Karin," the lanky one drawled, stopping just within arm's reach. He pointedly ignored the twins, his gaze locked only on her. "So you decided to take the exam this year too? Strange. I thought they dragged you off to Konoha to be a brood sow. Back in our village you weren't good for anything else…"
The words stabbed into Karin like rusted needles. Her shoulders twitched, her lips trembled.
"Enough." Menma cut off the flow with a flick of his hand. His voice was even, almost lazy, but carried such weight that the lanky boy faltered without meaning to.
Menma turned to Karin, looking her straight in the eye. "It's obvious this clown is trying to break you down, throw you off balance. So why waste your attention on him?"
"Hey!" the lanky one barked, but his voice came out pitiful, and the twins didn't even bother to look his way.
"I don't get it either," Naruko added, frowning. She grabbed Karin's hand and gave it a small shake, snapping her back. "My brother can put up with idiots to gather intel. I can act interested just to troll someone to tears. But you? That's not your style at all. You're a kunoichi. So go ahead and hit them."
Karin opened her mouth as if to protest… and in that moment the lanky one snapped.
"You little—!" He swung a fist, not at the twins his instincts screamed to avoid, but at Karin.
The blow never landed.
Karin dropped low, his fist swiping through empty air. At the same time her elbow shot upward and slammed into his groin. The lanky boy folded in half, crumpling to the floor with a red face and tears in his eyes.
"You brat!" the stocky one roared, grabbing Karin's arms from behind and pinning her against him.
His triumph lasted exactly one second.
Karin jerked back sharply, slipping free of the hold, slammed her elbow under his ribs, grabbed his wrist, and, using his own momentum, threw him over her hip. The boy hit the floor with a groan, gasping for air.
The plain-looking girl from Grass, who'd been standing aside until now, tried to interfere. But her hands trembled so hard her movements looked more like spasms.
Still fired up, Karin stepped forward and smashed a fist into her jaw. There was a crack, and the girl collapsed unconscious.
"Nice one," Naruko snorted, and then she and Menma, moving in perfect sync as if they'd rehearsed it, struck the two writhing boys across the face. Both flew into the wall and slumped down, out cold.
Silence fell over the hall. Everyone had noticed the fight, but not a single shinobi stepped in. It seemed most didn't care: so what if someone got beaten up? Not their problem.
Karin stared at her clenched fist as if it had suddenly become something foreign. "How did I… do that?.." she whispered. "They were moving so slow… But those guys were supposed to be the best graduates of the academy!"
"Of the Grass academy," Menma corrected her loftily, patting her shoulder. "You're a kunoichi of Konoha now. And, as you can see, already stronger."
A smile broke over Karin's face—surprised, a little uncertain, but genuinely happy.
The Uzumaki trio, without another word, dragged the unconscious three to the corner of the room and dumped them like sacks. Nobody raised a voice in their defense.
They had barely stepped deeper into the hall when Kiba appeared beside them. He held a sheet of paper in his hand, a smirk shining on his face.
"Oh, you're here too," he said, glancing at the unconscious bodies in the corner. "Starting fights before the exam even begins? Bold, very bold."
"That makes it the second fight," Menma added with a wink.
Right after Kiba, the rest of their classmates gathered around the Uzumaki trio.
The room instantly seemed fuller, lined with familiar faces, and Menma couldn't help but notice just how much had changed over the years. Many of them really did look different—and not just on the outside.
Hinata wore fingerless gloves snug around her palms. Clearly not for fashion. They were a sign she had been seriously honing her clan's taijutsu, strengthening her strikes and chakra control. She now stood with a touch more confidence, shoulders squared, and her voice carried a new shade—not timid shyness, but inner resolve.
Shikamaru slouched as usual, but idly rolled a senbon between his lips—exactly like Shiranui Genma. He looked as if he might yawn any second, then flick the needle into a target in the same motion. Shino had tried to copy the trick and failed completely. Yet lazy Shikamaru had nailed it on the first try—and now strutted around like a man irritated by his own talent.
But the ones who had changed the most were Team Seven.
Among them stood Sai with his perpetual fake smile. A rolled-up drawing kit hung on his back, and he was scribbling away in a sketchbook, sneaking glances at Team Eleven.
Next to him was Sakura. Her hair now reached her waist, tied into dozens of thin braids so it wouldn't get in the way in battle. For four stubborn years she'd been growing it out, working on a hair manipulation technique the twins had once passed on to her. Her gaze had grown much harder than before, and the way she carried herself—calmer, more assured.
And, of course, Sasuke. He looked like Kakashi had handed down his childhood wardrobe: the same black shorts and gray-trimmed shirt, crossed straps across his chest, a short sword strapped to his back. Only the mask was missing.
Sasuke had already been a heartthrob, and now, copying the style of another "cool guy," he cemented his status as the school idol. Girls gazed at him with sparkling eyes, and Menma could practically hear the fanfares playing in their heads.
"Sasuke-ku-u-un!" Ino squealed and threw herself onto his back. "I haven't seen you in so long! I missed you!"
"I missed you too, Ino," Sasuke replied calmly, patting her hand like one might calm an overexcited dog. "But maybe you could let go?"
"Nope," Ino declared, clinging to him like a favorite pillow.
"Enjoying his attention, Ino-chan?" Sakura drawled in a honeyed voice, though her eyes gleamed sharp as knives. "Good for you. I see Sasuke every day, so you'd better savor every moment you get."
Ino huffed in annoyance, but finally slid off Sasuke's back.
Menma allowed himself the faintest smile. [Nice to see how much Sakura's changed. In canon she'd already be throwing a tantrum with swinging fists. And Sasuke isn't pulling that world-weary "cursed by female attention" face either.]
"I'm glad you're both here," Kiba said, giving Menma and Sasuke a wolfish look. He was clutching some sheet of paper in his hand. "Since graduating from the academy, I've gotten way stronger. I'll kick your asses in the exam."
"Seriously?!" Menma threw up his hands and swept his gaze across the crowd. "There are hundreds of foreigners here you could show off against, and you want to beat up your own friends?"
"No, I didn't mean it like that…" Kiba mumbled, scratching the back of his head. Even Akamaru, perched on his head, looked embarrassed and squirmed.
"We won't deliberately attack our friends," Hinata said softly but firmly. She stepped forward, and her voice carried a strength nobody would have expected from her before. "Kiba-kun just worded it wrong."
[Little Hinata's taken the role of team leader. Good to see she's finally grown confident.]
"And what's that you've got?" Naruko snatched the paper right out of Kiba's hand without asking. "Ha-ha-ha! What's this, a pizza with ears?"
"That's me," Kiba muttered gloomily. "Sai made it as a gift."
"Oh, really?" Naruko squinted and struck a dramatic art-critic pose. "It's spot on, Kiba. Especially those chunks of parmesan on your cheeks."
Kiba flushed red, tore the sketch into shreds, and growled.
"It's rude to destroy someone's gift," Sai noted with his ever-fake smile. "My book says that to win someone's favor, you should give them a funny portrait."
"Brilliant idea!" Naruko gave him a thumbs-up. "Did you draw anyone else?"
"Yes," Sasuke cut in dryly. "And unlike Kiba, I didn't make the same mistake. I burned mine immediately."
"Naruko," Sai said suddenly, and for a moment his smile softened. "I started drawing your portrait the second you walked into the room. Want to see it?"
"Of course!" Naruko beamed. "This'll be hilarious!"
Everyone crowded around with expectant smirks. But the smirks faded fast.
It wasn't a funny caricature. On the paper was a beautiful, detailed portrait. Naruko looked radiant, like the sun itself—cheerful, vivid, impossibly cute. Her smile in the drawing was so genuine that the girls gasped in admiration, and the boys gave low whistles of respect.
Only Naruko herself stared at the picture as if she'd just been stabbed in the chest with a kunai.
Her smile vanished and her face turned crimson.
"That's disgusting!" she raised her voice. "We were great friends, Sai, and you ruined everything. I'm not talking to you anymore!"
Naruko crossed her arms and turned away pointedly.
Silence fell over the room. Even Sai's fake smile cracked.
"I... did I do something wrong?" Sai asked quietly, clutching Naruko's portrait as if it had suddenly become too heavy.
"Yes, you ruined everything," Sakura said firmly, folding her arms. "Instead of reading stupid stuff, you should learn to understand girls."
"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered darkly, voicing the thought of every man in the world.