We surveyed the hall, noting the various figures assembled there. Beyond our own Jonin-sensei, there were a few proctors and a smattering of foreign Jonin, but only three other teams besides our own remained.

"Kakashi-sensei," Naruto called as we moved toward the centre of the hall, where the other Genin had gathered. Kakashi approached with his usual unhurried pace, his lone visible eye fixed on us.

"You did well," he said, though his tone lacked any real enthusiasm.

Naruto, folding his arms with a scowl, replied dismissively. "It was nothing. Boring, actually. Sasuke found the castle on the first day, and we didn’t do much after that except wait for Iruka-sensei to pick us up."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, as though expecting more, but we offered him nothing in return. Sakura, more thoughtful, broke the silence.

"Kakashi-sensei, what happened to the other teams? Weren’t there supposed to be eight at the end of the exam?"

"They couldn’t hold their territories long enough. Time ran out, and they were disqualified."

"But the rules didn’t mention that," Sakura pressed, her brow furrowed.

"They did, indirectly. Rule number one, remember?"

Sakura paused, then nodded. "Any team without a castle at the end of the exam is disqualified."

"Exactly. One of the purposes of the exam is to assess how well you adhere to mission parameters. If you can’t maintain control of your target, you fail the test." He explained this plainly, yet we could sense Naruto still wasn’t entirely grasping the significance. Kakashi lingered a moment longer, perhaps expecting more questions, but when none came, he drifted back toward the other Jonin.

Then, the Hokage stepped forward, drawing the room’s attention. His voice carried no fanfare, just the simple cadence of a man accustomed to delivering hard truths.

"Congratulations to those of you who have passed the second exam. The third is soon to follow, but before we begin, there is something you must understand. This exam, for all its trappings, is a war, in miniature."

The quiet that followed his words was heavier than we had anticipated. A murmur spread through the hall like a ripple.

"If you’ve studied your history," the Hokage continued, "you’ll know that our so-called alliance between the lands is a fragile arrangement, a temporary ceasefire between nations that were once at constant war over resources and power. What has kept this uneasy peace, in part, is this exam. It serves as a stage, a demonstration of strength for each land."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The gravity of his words settled in, the murmurs subsided. There was no need for elaboration; we understood what he meant. Our presence here wasn’t just about earning a promotion. It was about proving the worth of our village in front of those who held power over resources, wealth, those who would commission work from the strongest among us, enriching our ranks.

"The final exam will take place in one month," the Hokage announced, "in front of an audience of noblemen and rulers, including the Kazekage. Your performance will determine not only your future but the prestige of your village."

We looked at Naruto then, sensing the weight of the Hokage’s words even though we knew it was lost on him. His world was still too small, his understanding of consequences still limited. Unfortunate, but we knew he would grow out of it with time.

The Hokage instructed us to draw numbers for the matchups, and as we reached into the box, the inevitability of what was to come began to crystallize. One by one, names and numbers were called, and the tournament bracket slowly took form.

When the final names were read, the Hokage stepped back. "You will be judged not only by me but by the leaders of many nations. Some of you may rise to the rank of Chunin, even if you lose. Some won’t. Even if they win. Otherwise, none of you may pass at all. It will depend entirely on how you conduct yourselves. Good luck. You are dismissed."

----------------------------------------

A few days later, we found ourselves standing beneath the pale light of the moon. Kabuto stood before us, his fists stuffed deep in his pocket.

"I'm impressed," we said.

The figure smiled faintly, his face betraying nothing. "What’s there to be impressed about?"

"How you’ve convinced Konoha you’re harmless," we replied. "It's clear you’re far from ordinary—a medical-nin raised by a conveniently deceased shinobi, skilled in ninjutsu but still, somehow, branded a failure. Enough to earn yourself an amusing nickname."

He chuckled softly. "Kabuto, the Eternal Genin."

"Too remarkable, perhaps," we mused. He smiled again, his eyes searching.

"And you, Uchiha-san—your reputation is… legendary, to say the least. The stories that circulate through the hidden corners of the shinobi world… I’d wager they underestimate you."

We ignored his flattery, our eyes shifting upward to the moon. "Orochimaru has something prepared for me?"

Kabuto tossed a scroll. We caught it, eyes flicking red as our Sharingan absorbed its contents. With a flick of chakra, it was gone, reduced to ash in our hand.

“When will the rest of the list be ready?”

Kabuto nodded. "Root-level operatives aren’t easy to discern, you know."

“Let me know when it’s done. And tell Orochimaru I’ll be expecting word from him.”

Kabuto turned to leave, his movements deliberate. "And the cleanup?" he asked.

"We’ll handle it."

He smiled, slipping into the shadows. With a flicker, we appeared before the retreating figure of a Konoha-nin.

“Proctor-san,” we said, appearing before the eavesdropper.

"Uchiha Sasuke," he spat, drawing his blade. "Traitor."

We tsked. "It can’t be helped, it seems. Though we regret it. ANBU number five was always our favourite. She won’t be pleased to hear you’ve fallen."

"Hayate…"