Present Day.
"Sorry to keep you waiting!" boomed a voice from behind us. We turned to see a group of shinobi materialising in a cloud of white smoke, chakra swirling around them.
"My name is Morino Ibiki," the leader of the newcomers said, stepping forward. His scarred face was imposing, his gaze locking onto our form for a brief moment before flickering away. Hmm? "I am the chief examiner and proctor for the first part of this exam. Before we begin, let me establish a few ground rules. From this moment on, there will be no fighting without express permission from an exam officer. Even if permission is granted, any action that unnecessarily endangers another applicant's life is strictly forbidden. Break these rules, and you're disqualified. No second chances. Understood?"
The room was silent, but the tension in the air shifted, turning sour with disdain. Several shinobi sneered, their expressions mocking. "...So this is a test for weaklings?" muttered one brazen Oto-nin under his breath. Ibiki’s eyes flickered towards him, but he said nothing.
"You’ve all been given a tag," Ibiki continued, unfazed. "The number on your tag corresponds to your seat in this hall. I shouldn’t have to explain what that means. You have five minutes to find your seat."
We shot one last glance at Kabuto and Kiba before reaching into our obi to retrieve our tag. Our eyes scanned the room, searching for seat ninety-seven. There, fifth row, seventeenth column.
"Uh…" Naruto began, his confusion palpable. We glanced at him and shook our head, mimicking the expression most appropriate for the situation. Exasperation. It wasn’t even surprising. In fact, we’d expected it.
"The number on your tag matches the number on your seat," we explained before he could ask. A quick glance at his tag confirmed it. "There. Seat fifty-seven."
"I knew that!" Naruto lied, rushing toward his seat. "Good luck, Sakura!" he called out as he left. Sakura ignored him, her attention turning to us.
"Good luck," she mumbled, fidgeting nervously.
"You too, Sakura," we replied before making our way to our seat.
Sitting down, we scanned the room, our eyes flitting between the proctors scattered throughout the hall. In our peripheral vision, we sensed a few more in hiding. All were Jōnin. Cheating in this exam could prove impossible, even for us.
To our left sat a girl with red hair and glasses. A Kusagakure headband rested on her forehead, her gaze flickering toward us, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. We ignored her, turning instead to the Hyuga girl on our right. We knew her well. After six years as classmates, how could we not? As usual, her eyes were fixated on Naruto, seated a few rows ahead. Her obsession with him was… perplexing. What did she see in the boy? It confused us. We disliked being confused.
A Tokubetsu Jōnin flickered by, dropping three sheets of paper onto the table in front of us.
"Keep your papers down until I give the signal," Ibiki ordered from the front of the hall. "Now listen closely. There are a few important rules for this test. I’ll write them on the blackboard and explain each one. I won’t take questions, and I’ll only say this once, so pay attention."
Ibiki turned to the board, chalk in hand. "Rule number one: each of you starts with thirty points. The test has thirty questions, each worth one point. For every wrong answer, we subtract a point. Rule number two: this is still a team event. Your team’s passing or failing will depend on the total points of all three members. The goal is to minimize deductions from your cell’s collective ninety points.
"Rule number three: if we catch you cheating—if you do anything that makes the proctors suspicious—we’ll deduct two points from each member of your cell. Rule number four: if any individual loses more than half of their points, their entire cell will be disqualified, regardless of how well the others perform.
"And finally, rule number five: only the top twenty-five teams will pass. Even if others score well, they’ll be disqualified if they don’t make the cut."
Ibiki straightened, his eyes sweeping over the room. "You have one hour. You may begin."
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"...Question number fifteen. A shinobi, positioned on the branch of a tree, throws a steel kunai weighing 67.1 grams at an enemy 113 meters away on ground level. The velocity of the kunai at launch is 89.408m/s. Air resistance acting on the kunai is 14.7N, and the elevation difference between the shinobi and the target is 8.37 meters. If the force of gravity on a body of mass 1 gram is 1.4N, calculate: the force of gravity acting on the kunai, its acceleration vector, and the final velocity upon impact."
We looked up at Ibiki, the chief examiner, standing stoically at the front of the hall, then glanced back at the test in front of us. There was no way Naruto could answer any of these questions. We glanced at the boy. Sure enough, he stared at his script with the paleness of a man on death row.
The demon container curled in on himself, hands clutching his bright orange hair, his face a mask of despair. We shook our head internally. His ineptitude couldn’t be allowed to hinder our progress. Failure wasn’t an option.
Stealthily, our hands flashed through a modified Ox and Dragon seal. A subtle but precise burst of chakra shot from our glabella toward Naruto. As predicted, the boy’s chakra naturally resisted the intrusion, but with the practised ease born of months of refining the technique, we slipped past the resistance and slithered up his chakra network to his brain, gently stimulating his hypothalamus.
Naruto yawned, muttering something under his breath before slumping over his desk, fast asleep.
A few proctors and nearby examinees cast wary glances at the now-snoring Naruto. Their expressions were odd, caught between amusement and disbelief. Suppressing our exasperation, we guided our chakra into his respiratory system, easing his nasal passages. The snoring ceased, and with that, one problem was solved.
Satisfied that Naruto was now less likely to attract attention or be implicated for cheating, we shifted our focus to Sakura. Unlike Naruto, she was far less likely to struggle with the exam itself. Despite her habit of playing the lovestruck fool, when motivated, she could be quite reliable.
However, at the moment, she was too busy glaring daggers at Naruto to concentrate. Distracted. Not helping raise our collective score. We suppressed the urge to feel irritation and instead reformed the seals for Honshitsu Kisei no Jutsu—Essence Parasitism Technique. A second pulse of concentrated chakra shot from our glabella, this time aimed at Sakura. Unlike Naruto, her resistance to the technique was nonexistent. Our chakra slipped easily through her network, dispersing into her subconscious. We placed her under a subtle Genjutsu, one designed to harden her against espionage while compelling her to ignore Naruto’s antics.
She immediately hunkered down, shielding her paper from prying eyes with exaggerated care. We sighed. At least now she would focus on the exam.
Turning our attention back to the proctors, we noted with distaste that we’d already lost four points. Sakura and Naruto had likely cost us two points each for being “accomplices” to our chakra manipulation. No doubt the proctors had detected our actions. Still, losing another two points to fortify Sakura’s subconscious defences seemed unnecessary.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
We scanned the rest of the room. There were many potential targets. Konoha Genin, and those we had amicable relations with, were off-limits, of course. This wasn’t out of sentimentality. Rather, we had to appear sentimental in front of Konoha’s elite shinobi, who were watching closely. Ignoring a few easy targets was a small price to pay for maintaining appearances.
But there were still plenty of candidates. We sorted through them swiftly, eliminating the stronger team members by isolating their weak links. These were the ones we needed. After all, Ibiki had made it clear: this was a team exam. If one member was disqualified, the entire cell would be disqualified too.
Our chakra surged, and one proctor’s eyes snapped toward us. Six points down. The loss was worth it. Hands flashing, we formed nine rapid seals. Reverse Rat to suppress our chakra signature, sacrificing efficiency. Modified Tiger and Ox to amplify it again. Dog, Snake, and Monkey to facilitate chakra transformation, then Dragon to merge attributes into a convincing facsimile. Modified Ox and Hare to suppress our intent, and finally, Ram to execute.
“Multi-Essence Parasitism Technique.”
A thin cord of chakra snaked from our glabella, gliding silently toward our first target: an Oto-nin sitting in front of us. The cord paused, writhing and splitting into dozens of tendrils, which shot out and latched onto over forty targets around the room. Each thread broke off and dissolved into the unsuspecting Genin’s bodies.
Eight points.
Our attention shifted briefly to Naruto. Now came the most delicate part of our plan. Ibiki’s focus sharpened as we formed the hand seal for a forbidden technique—one used by the Yamanaka clan. Shintenshin no Jutsu. The Mind-Body Switch Technique.
Ten points.
A portion of our soul detached from our body, drawn by the technique into Naruto’s mindscape. The sensation was strange but familiar, our consciousness moving sluggishly, burdened by the weight of our Ego. We entered Naruto’s mind and stood in the dim, filthy sewer that reflected the corruption of his chakra by the Nine-Tails.
At the far end loomed a giant ornate gate, golden chains wrapped tightly around the hulking form of the demon fox. The creature glared at us with malice, seething hatred…and fear. A pitiful creature. Once, we had feared it. How undignified.
Ignoring the fox, we merged our chakra with Naruto’s. His eyes fluttered open, and we surveyed the outside world through his gaze. His exam paper was covered in drool.
Around the room, several Genin inexplicably lost control of their chakra as they attempted to cheat. They were swiftly disqualified of course, and very quickly the hall grew bereft of competitors. Ignoring this, we filled out Naruto’s papers before releasing the Hidden Jutsu, our mind snapping back to our body.
Twelve points.
Naruto blinked awake moments later, confused. He glanced at his now-completed test and shrugged, accepting his sudden stroke of “luck.” We sighed and looked down at our own exam sheet—still empty. We glanced at the wall clock hung behind Ibiki at the front of the class. Fifteen minutes had passed since the test began.
At least we still had time.
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"Uchiha Sasuke."
Ibiki fixed his steely gaze on the dark-haired boy, his expression one of careful scrutiny. As the proctor, he had anticipated that certain Genin with specialised skill sets would exploit the loopholes deliberately woven into the exam’s structure. After all, life was rarely fair, and neither should the training of the next generation of shinobi coddle them into thinking otherwise.
However, what Ibiki had not foreseen was how effortlessly some might manipulate the system. Looking back, it seemed almost inevitable that this infamous Genin would, using two unknown and likely original techniques, orchestrate the downfall of fourteen competing teams—and still counting.
Once could be coincidence; twice, maybe; but three times? That was deliberate. By the time the eighth team crumbled, most of the remaining Genin had caught on to the Uchiha’s insidious strategy. While many failed to uncover the exact source of the sabotage, a clear pattern had emerged. The targets were obvious. A few fortunate ones, realizing the target on their backs, managed to dispel the jutsu before it fully implicated them. The rest were left paralyzed, waiting for the axe to fall.
Attempts to complete the exam honestly proved futile. After all, the test was not designed to reward those who could answer the questions unaided; the purpose was to see how well they could cheat. But Sasuke’s machinations had trapped them, leaving them to choose between risking detection and certain failure or doing nothing and still failing.
Desperation brought out the worst in a few of the Genin, driving them to lash out in frustration. They called out the unseen hand responsible for their hopeless situation, demanding a confrontation. Fools. Their anger, insults, and posturing bounced off Sasuke as though he couldn’t hear them at all. Indifferent.
Jōnin proctors swiftly intervened, quelling the more unruly participants. The chaos only resulted in yet another team’s disqualification as one member attempted a bold but foolish act of defiance. The exam hall fell into an oppressive silence, thick with despair. An almost palpable sense of dread hung over the remaining examinees like a spectre.
Ibiki glanced at the boy who had caused this wave of hopelessness. Sasuke sat quietly at his desk, the very picture of innocence, as though completely unaware of the misery he had inflicted. The boy’s dark eyes met Ibiki’s for a moment, his expression unreadable. One eyebrow raised slightly as if to silently ask:
What?
The proctor sighed, breaking eye contact. "Inoichi is going to be furious," he muttered to himself. "Letting a six-year-old copy a secret clan jutsu during a simple mission... Evil Flame or not, that was one hell of a blunder, Fuu Yamanaka."
"Time’s up!" Ibiki barked, eager to put an end to the farce the exam had devolved into. Some Genin grumbled their protests, but they were swiftly ignored. The papers were gathered, scores tallied, and with a final, begrudging glance at the Uchiha, Ibiki announced the results.
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Predictably, we had no trouble keeping our team’s score within the top twenty per cent, despite the twelve-point penalty I had incurred. But my methods had not come without their drawbacks.
Most notably, I had inadvertently confirmed the existence of a Yamanaka clan technique in my arsenal. That little nugget of information was bound to shift the village’s stance toward me, especially among the higher-ups. Whether this change would be for better or worse remained to be seen. Either way, I wasn’t particularly concerned. The village’s hands were tied by the unspoken truce that had existed since my last... incident with Fuu. For now, they were harmless.
My focus shifted to the new proctor who had replaced Ibiki at the front of the room.
"My name is Hayate Gekko," the man rasped, his voice hoarse. "I am the chief exam officer for the second phase of this exam. Please follow me."
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The sign at our next venue read "Training Ground Zero-Nine."
Fifteen minutes after leaving the academy, we found ourselves at the perimeter of a heavily fortified forest. A towering fifteen-meter fence surrounded the area, covered in Fūinjutsu tags that seemed designed more to keep something in than to prevent entry. Warning signs like "NO TRESPASSING" and "DANGER!" were prominently displayed. Heavy chains and multiple padlocks secured the gate, reinforced by more sealing tags.
Our attention shifted back to Hayate. "This is the ninth Battle Training Zone," he began, his voice still rough. He coughed. Then coughed again. "It is also known as Asura’s Garden, one of Konoha’s most dangerous training grounds."
"Your objective is simple: King of the Hill. Each team will be given a scroll with the assignment details. But before we begin, you must all sign these." He held up a stack of papers, the words "CONSENT FORM" printed in bold on the front.
"You need to sign these before entering the forest," he continued. "Konoha would be held responsible for any unfortunate incidents that might occur during the examination."
The forms were passed around. I skimmed through mine quickly, then pulled out a Fūinjutsu ink brush from the folds of my kimono. Wetting the bristles with chakra-infused saliva, I signed my name and handed it in. My teammates were still carefully reading theirs, but I was already waiting.
Five minutes later, the rest of the Genin submitted their forms, and Hayate continued.
"There are twenty-five teams competing in this King of the Hill challenge. Eight 'castles' are scattered throughout the forest. Your mission is to locate and hold one of these castles for the duration of the exam. Any team with control of a castle at the end of the week will qualify for the next round."
"This exam will last one hundred and sixty-eight hours—seven days. The rules are as follows: First, any team without a castle by the end of the exam is disqualified. Second, losing a team member to death or severe injury results in disqualification. Third, if you lose your mission scroll and fail to retrieve it before the exam ends, you're out. And finally, you may not leave the forest until the exam concludes. Doing so results in immediate disqualification."
The Jōnin surveyed the crowd, his expression as weary as his voice.
"When you receive your scroll, choose a gate. You have fifteen minutes before the exam begins."
"Good luck."