Otsutsuki (Rebooted)

by greymatter1098

This is a reboot of my story Otsutsuki. This is an alternate universe story where Naruto is an Otsutsuki that is sent to Earth and found by Minato & taken him by him & Kushina. This universe variant of Asura will be Mito Uzumaki (Minato & Kushina's biological daughter) & Indra will be Sayuri Uchiha (Fugaku & Mikoto's daughter & Itachi's younger sister). Mostly NarutoxSayuri centric

14. Preliminaries

Chapter 13: Preliminaries

"Cough cough Let's begin," Hayate announced, his perpetual cough interrupting his words. "Behind me, a screen will display two random names. Those will be the combatants. Cough The rest of you will watch from the viewing areas above the arena. Cough Good luck."

The Hokage and his advisors exited the arena as a section of the wall slid away, revealing a large screen. Names began flashing rapidly across it, scrolling until it finally stopped.

Yoroi Akado vs. Sayuri Uchiha

The murmurs among the genin quieted as everyone turned to look at Sayuri. She stood motionless, her expression unreadable, though her eyes carried a sharp, determined glint.

"The rest of you can climb up one level to watch," Hayate directed, gesturing toward the stairs leading to the viewing areas. The genin began to move, filing out in groups.

Naruto lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Sayuri. She met his eyes, her posture rigid but her confidence unwavering. Naruto hesitated before stepping closer, his voice dropping low. "Kick his ass, princess," he said with a small grin, holding up his fist.

Sayuri's lips twitched into a smirk. "Don't worry about me. I'll be here waiting for my next fight—and it better be you, idiot." She bumped her fist against his.

Naruto chuckled, stepping back. "You better not lose, or I'll never let you live it down."

With a final nod, he turned and leapt up to the viewing platform, joining Shino and Shikamaru. As he settled in, his eyes immediately sought Sayuri again. She was already making her way toward the center of the arena, her steps deliberate and her expression set in stone.

"Think she's ready for this?" Shikamaru asked, his tone casual but his gaze observant.

"She'll be fine," Naruto replied, though he couldn't completely mask the concern in his voice. His nose caught a faint, unsettling scent drifting from Yoroi, the man who had been selected as Sayuri's opponent. It was familiar in a way that made his stomach twist.

"That smell…" Naruto thought, his brow furrowing. "It's faint, but it's there. He's working for that snake. Orochimaru's got his claws in this one too."

The voices of his Otsutsuki parents echoed in his mind, their imprints ever-present in the recesses of his thoughts. His father, Ichiro, spoke first. "Stay calm, Naruto. Trust Sayuri to handle this. She needs this fight to prove her strength, not just to others, but to herself."

Naruto clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "But what if he's here to test her again? What if this is just another one of Orochimaru's games?"

Hikari's voice was softer but no less resolute. "Then she will overcome it, just as you have overcome your challenges. Do not let your worry become a chain that holds her back. Believe in her, Naruto."

Naruto exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. His parents were right. Sayuri needed this fight, and she didn't need him interfering.

Down below, Sayuri stood across from Yoroi Akado, one of Kabuto's teammates. He wore a cloth mask covering the lower half of his face and small black sunglasses that obscured his eyes. He exuded an air of arrogance, his stance relaxed as though he didn't view her as a threat.

"Ready?" Hayate asked, glancing between them. Both nodded firmly. "Begin!" he declared, stepping back.

Yoroi's smirk widened as he raised a hand in her direction. "Come here, runt," he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

Sayuri's jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. A dark aura seemed to radiate off her as her temper flared. Without a word, she launched herself toward him, her speed impressive. She threw a flurry of punches and kicks, each one aimed with precision but narrowly dodged by Yoroi.

"Missed again," Yoroi mocked, sidestepping her strikes with apparent ease. "What's the matter, little girl? Can't land a hit?"

Sayuri's movements grew faster, but they also became more erratic. Her frustration was evident in every strike she threw, her attacks losing the finesse they had at the start.

Naruto frowned from the viewing area, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. "She's losing her cool," he muttered.

Shino, standing nearby, adjusted his glasses. "Her emotions are clouding her judgment. It's unlike her."

Naruto shook his head. "No, this is exactly like her. She hates being underestimated. It makes her reckless."

Sayuri's attacks continued to miss, and Yoroi's smug grin only grew wider. "What's the matter, Uchiha? I thought your clan was supposed to be full of prodigies. You're not living up to the name."

Sayuri froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She stepped back, creating distance between herself and her opponent. Her breathing was steady, but her fists trembled slightly.

"Good," Naruto muttered, noticing the shift in her stance. "She's starting to think instead of just reacting."

Sayuri's gaze bore into Yoroi, her lips curving into a smirk of her own. "Done talking?" she asked, her voice icy. "Because I'm just getting started."

Yoroi's smugness faltered for a split second, but he quickly masked it with another sneer. "Bring it on," he challenged, raising his hands in preparation.

Naruto watched intently, his confidence in Sayuri unwavering. Whatever Yoroi had planned, he knew she was more than capable of handling it. And if Orochimaru's lapdog thought he could take her down, he was in for a rude awakening.

"Sayuri took a deep breath, allowing the tension in her muscles to ease. 'Looks like I let my temper get the best of me,' she admitted to herself, a confident smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She settled back into her fighting stance, her dark eyes fixed intently on her opponent. 'Now, where were we?' she taunted, her voice steady and cold.

Yoroi Akado sneered, mirroring her stance as he glared across the arena at her. 'Just about to teach you a lesson, little girl,' he shot back. Without wasting another second, he swiftly formed a series of hand seals. Chakra flared around him, and his right hand began to glow with a sinister blue light. Reaching into his pouch with his other hand, he drew four shuriken and hurled them at Sayuri with deadly precision.

Sayuri's reflexes were sharp. In one fluid motion, she drew a kunai and deflected the incoming shuriken, the metallic clang of metal against metal ringing through the air. The deflected stars spun back toward Yoroi, who dodged them effortlessly. Seizing the moment, he charged at her, his glowing hand extended.

Anticipating his move, Sayuri pushed off the ground with a burst of chakra, propelling herself backward just in time to avoid his grasp. She skidded to a halt by stabbing her kunai into the concrete floor, using it as an anchor to stop her momentum. Twisting gracefully around the embedded weapon, she swung her leg low, aiming to sweep Yoroi off his feet.

Yoroi barely had time to register her movement before her leg connected with his ankles, knocking him off balance. He stumbled forward, and Sayuri capitalized on his momentary vulnerability. She twisted her body again, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling it close to her chest while locking her legs around his neck. With a calculated shift, she brought him crashing to the ground, pinning him securely.

A murmur of approval rippled through the spectators. 'She did it!' someone cheered from above. But Sayuri didn't allow herself to bask in the small victory. A nagging feeling gnawed at the back of her mind—this fight was far from over.

Up in the viewing area, Naruto watched with a mix of pride and concern. He could sense that something was off. 'Stay focused, Sayuri,' he whispered under his breath.

Suddenly, Yoroi's glowing palm twisted toward Sayuri's chest. Before she could react, he gripped the fabric of her shirt, and an unsettling sensation washed over her. It felt as if her very life force was being pulled from her body. Her eyes widened in shock. 'What is this?' she thought, a wave of dizziness overtaking her.

Naruto's eyes narrowed. 'That technique... he's draining her chakra!' he realized, his fists clenching at his sides.

Sayuri's strength began to wane. Her grip loosened involuntarily, allowing Yoroi to slip free from her hold. He smirked triumphantly as he stood up, delivering a swift and harsh kick to her midsection. The blow sent her skidding backward, gasping for air.

'Feeling a bit weak?' Yoroi taunted, flexing his fingers as the chakra around his hand pulsed ominously. 'Must be tough when your own energy is used against you.'

Sayuri struggled to push herself up, her limbs feeling heavier by the second. She glared up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and frustration. 'So, you're siphoning my chakra,' she spat.

'Smart and pretty,' Yoroi mocked, slowly advancing toward her. 'But brains and looks won't save you now.'

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand despite the trembling in her legs. 'I can't let it end like this,' she thought desperately. 'I need a plan.'

From the sidelines, Naruto watched intently, his concern growing. 'Come on, Sayuri. You've got this.'

Yoroi lunged at her again, his glowing hand reaching for her. Weakened, Sayuri barely managed to dodge his initial strike, but he was relentless. He swiped at her repeatedly, each miss coming closer than the last. Her movements were slowing, her body betraying her as her chakra continued to deplete.

'Just give up,' Yoroi sneered, his eyes gleaming behind his sunglasses. 'Save yourself the embarrassment.'

'Never,' Sayuri growled, but her voice lacked its usual strength.

Her mind raced, searching for a solution. In a fleeting moment, her thoughts drifted to the cursed mark on her neck—the forbidden power that lurked beneath her skin. She could feel its presence, like a dark whisper tempting her. 'No,' she admonished herself fiercely. 'I can't rely on that. Not here. Not now.'

She recalled Kakashi's warning, the seriousness in his eye when he told her about the dangers of the mark. Using it would not only expose her but could also lead to consequences she wasn't prepared to face. She needed another way.

Her gaze flickered upward, catching sight of Rock Lee among the spectators. Inspiration struck like lightning. 'That's it,' she realized.

Taking a deep breath, Sayuri steadied herself. She adjusted her stance, lowering her center of gravity and relaxing her muscles. Yoroi paused, noticing the shift.

'What's this?' he scoffed. 'A new dance move?'

She didn't respond. Instead, she focused inward, recalling the movements she had observed during the preliminary rounds—the fluid motions and incredible speed of Lee's taijutsu. She had watched him closely, her keen eyes memorizing every detail.

Yoroi shrugged off his curiosity and charged at her once more. 'Fine. Let's end this.'

As he closed in, Sayuri moved. Her body became a blur as she sidestepped his attack with ease. Yoroi stumbled forward, caught off guard by her sudden agility.

'What the—' he exclaimed, spinning around to face her. She was already on the move, circling him with speed that made it difficult to track.

Up in the stands, Lee's eyes widened in surprise. 'That's...'

Guy-sensei grinned, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 'It appears she's been paying attention.'

Yoroi grew frustrated, his attacks becoming more erratic as he tried to land a hit. 'Stop moving!' he shouted, swinging wildly.

Sayuri remained silent, her focus razor-sharp. She waited for the perfect moment, watching his patterns and anticipating his moves. Then, she saw her opening.

In a flash, she ducked under one of his swings and delivered a powerful upward kick to his jaw. The force of the blow lifted him off the ground, sending him soaring into the air.

The crowd gasped. Naruto leaned forward, his eyes glued to the scene. 'Go, Sayuri!'

Without missing a beat, Sayuri launched herself upward, appearing above Yoroi in an instant. She began a rapid assault, striking him with a barrage of kicks and punches. Each hit was precise, driving him higher into the air and preventing any chance of counterattack.

'She's using Lee's technique!' Tenten exclaimed, astonished.

Neji crossed his arms, a hint of approval in his gaze. 'Impressive.'

As they reached the peak of their ascent, Sayuri maneuvered herself above Yoroi, her body twisting gracefully. She locked eyes with him for a brief moment, his expression a mix of pain and disbelief.

'This ends now,' she declared.

With a final, powerful kick, she sent him hurtling toward the ground. She followed closely, increasing her speed to catch up. Just before impact, she spun, driving her heel into his chest with all the force she could muster.

'Lion's Barrage!' she shouted.

They crashed into the arena floor, a cloud of dust and debris erupting around them. The shockwave rippled through the space, causing some of the spectators to shield their eyes.

Silence fell over the arena as the dust began to settle. Sayuri stood slowly, her breathing heavy but controlled. She looked down at Yoroi, who lay motionless on the ground. His sunglasses were cracked, and his chest rose and fell shallowly—he was unconscious but alive.

Hayate approached cautiously, checking Yoroi's condition. After a moment, he straightened up and turned to the crowd. 'Yoroi Akado is unable to continue. The winner is Sayuri Uchiha!'

Cheers and applause erupted from the spectators. Naruto pumped his fist in the air. 'Yes! That's my teammate!'

Shikamaru gave a low whistle. 'She really pulled that off.'

Ino smiled brightly. 'Go, Sayuri!'

Kiba crossed his arms, trying to mask his own impression. 'Not bad,' he muttered.

Back in the arena, Sayuri took a step back, her gaze lingering on her fallen opponent. Relief washed over her, but it was tinged with an unsettling feeling. She hadn't intended to push so hard, but desperation had driven her.

'She really is something,' Lee said, still in awe.

'Indeed,' Guy-sensei agreed. 'Youthful determination at its finest.'

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the observation deck, a figure watched the proceedings with keen interest. Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with a sinister light. 'So, the Uchiha girl resists the curse mark,' he mused quietly. 'This will make things even more interesting.'

"That was… intense," Shikamaru finally broke the silence, his voice quieter than usual. His normally lazy demeanor was replaced by wide-eyed shock. "Didn't see that coming."

Kiba gulped, his bravado tempered by what he had just witnessed. Despite his earlier boasts about wanting to prove himself to Sayuri, seeing her in action gave him second thoughts. Akamaru whimpered slightly from his spot beside him, sensing his partner's unease. 'Maybe it's best not to mess with her too much,' Kiba thought to himself.

Chōji had stopped eating altogether, his usual calm shattered as he watched the aftermath unfold. Ino, standing next to him, stared wide-eyed at the scene below, her expression a mix of astonishment and unease. Hinata's face was pale, her hands gripping the railing tightly as worry etched across her features.

Up in the viewing area, Kakashi's visible eye narrowed slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets as he processed what had just transpired. He glanced at Sayuri, then at Naruto, before looking away briefly. His posture, usually casual, carried an uncharacteristic tension.

"She's close," Kakashi muttered under his breath, his words barely audible. The curse mark—it had nearly surfaced again. He had seen the signs, the subtle shifts in Sayuri's demeanor during the match. It was a close call, too close for comfort.

Naruto stood a few feet away, his gaze fixed on Sayuri. His fists clenched at his sides as he observed her trembling slightly, though she quickly tried to mask it with her usual confidence. Inside his mind, however, a conversation was taking place.

"She nearly gave in," Naruto thought grimly, his tone laced with worry.

"She's stronger than that," the voice of his father, Ichiro, resonated in his mind. "But this is a warning. The mark is a predator, waiting for weakness. She needs guidance, Naruto. Support her, but tread carefully."

"She's holding back more than she's letting on," Hikari added softly, her maternal tone filled with concern. "You saw how close she came. She's fighting a battle within herself. The wrong push could tip her over the edge."

Naruto sighed inwardly, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. 'I know, but what can I do? She barely listens to me as it is. And this… this mark is Orochimaru's doing. He's always a step ahead.'

"You don't have to have all the answers now," Ichiro assured him. "But don't let her isolate herself. If she does, she'll lose the fight."

Naruto nodded slightly, his resolve hardening as he returned his focus to the arena.

Below, Sayuri stood stiffly as Hayate announced her victory. She kept her expression neutral, but a flicker of doubt flashed in her eyes. She had felt it—the cursed mark stirring beneath her skin, whispering promises of power in her most vulnerable moments. For a brief second, she had almost welcomed it, but Kakashi's warning had echoed in her mind, pulling her back from the brink.

The Hokage, observing from his seat, leaned forward slightly. His expression remained calm, but his eyes were sharp, scrutinizing every detail of what had transpired. "The curse mark…" he muttered under his breath. "It nearly surfaced again."

Kakashi glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. "She's fighting it, but it's a constant battle. This isn't sustainable, Lord Hokage. We need to act soon."

Hiruzen nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Sayuri. "I'll arrange for more stringent monitoring. But for now, we must tread carefully. The psychological toll is as dangerous as the mark itself."

Back in the stands, Naruto's concern only deepened as he noticed Sayuri's hands trembling slightly before she clenched them into fists, hiding the movement. She turned and walked toward the sidelines with her head held high, though her steps lacked their usual confidence.

"She's putting up a front," Hikari observed softly in Naruto's mind. "But even the strongest fronts can crumble under pressure."

Naruto gritted his teeth. 'She doesn't have to go through this alone,' he thought determinedly. 'I'll make sure she knows that.'

As Sayuri ascended the steps to join the others, Naruto stepped forward to meet her. He didn't say anything at first, simply offering her a nod of acknowledgment. She glanced at him, her expression guarded, but she didn't push him away.

"Good match," Naruto said finally, his tone casual but sincere. "You handled yourself well out there."

Sayuri didn't respond immediately. When she did, her voice was steady, though it carried a hint of something deeper. "I didn't need your commentary, idiot."

Naruto chuckled lightly, not fazed by her tone. "I wasn't trying to criticize. Just saying, you held your own."

Sayuri rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of gratitude in her gaze before she looked away. "I don't need you worrying about me. Focus on your own match."

Naruto didn't push further, knowing when to back off. Instead, he simply said, "I've got your back, Sayuri. No matter what."

She didn't reply, but the faintest of nods was all the acknowledgment he needed.

Kakashi's voice cut through the tension as he stepped forward, his tone carrying an edge of authority that left no room for argument. "Sayuri, we need to leave. Now."

Sayuri's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing in irritation. "What? Why?"

"You know why," Kakashi said, his visible eye sharp and unwavering. "That mark—it's not just a nuisance. It's a threat. We've already seen it stir during your match, and I won't risk it activating fully. We're going to suppress it before it can take root any further."

Sayuri's jaw tightened, and for a moment, her pride flared to life. "I can handle it."

Kakashi shook his head, his expression grim. "No, you can't. Not on your own. This isn't just about you, Sayuri. That mark doesn't just put you at risk; it's a danger to everyone around you. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to control."

Naruto, who had been standing nearby, stepped closer, his gaze flicking between Sayuri and Kakashi. "Wait, Sensei, can't this wait until after—"

"No," Kakashi interrupted firmly, his voice unusually sharp. "This can't wait, Naruto. The cursed seal isn't something we can afford to ignore. If it fully activates, Sayuri could lose control entirely. I won't let that happen."

Sayuri crossed her arms, her posture defensive. "And what if I don't want to go? What if I want to stay and fight like everyone else?"

"You don't have a choice," Kakashi said bluntly, his tone softening slightly as he continued. "I know you're strong, Sayuri. No one's questioning that. But this isn't about strength. It's about control. Orochimaru didn't put that mark on you because you're weak. He did it because you're a threat to him—and because he wants to manipulate that threat to his advantage. Don't let him win."

Sayuri's lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, her fists clenched at her sides. The words hit harder than she expected, and the truth of them was undeniable. She hated the idea of leaving, of being seen as someone who couldn't handle her own battles. But deep down, she knew Kakashi was right.

Naruto, sensing her hesitation, stepped closer. "Sayuri… It's okay. Just go with Kakashi. We'll handle things here until you're ready to come back. You're not alone in this."

Sayuri's eyes flicked to him, her gaze softening slightly before she looked back at Kakashi. "Fine," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's just get this over with."

Kakashi gave a small nod of approval, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as he guided her toward the exit. "Good. The sooner we take care of this, the better."

As they walked away, Naruto watched them go, a mixture of concern and determination in his expression. He knew Sayuri didn't want to leave, that she hated feeling like she couldn't handle everything on her own. But he also knew this was necessary. Orochimaru's mark wasn't just a physical scar—it was a ticking time bomb. And if anyone could help her defuse it, it was Kakashi.

The room was quiet as the two disappeared through the doorway, the weight of their departure hanging heavily over those left behind. For Naruto, one thing was clear: no matter what, he would stand by Sayuri. Whether she liked it or not, they were a team—and he wouldn't let her fight this battle alone.

The arena buzzed with quiet anticipation as the next two names flickered onto the screen, signaling the start of the next match. Shino Aburame stepped forward calmly, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket, his face as stoic as ever. Opposite him stood Zaku Abumi, his bandaged arms hanging awkwardly at his sides—one completely immobilized in a cast, the other bruised and barely functional. The aftermath of Naruto's devastating Wind Style: Rasengan had left him in no condition to fight, yet here he was.

From the observation deck above, Naruto folded his arms, his expression unreadable as he watched the opponent he had nearly incapacitated step forward again. "He's going to regret this," he muttered under his breath.

"Troublesome," Shikamaru commented lazily, though his sharp eyes were focused on the match. "He should've withdrawn. Even an idiot can see this isn't going to end well for him."

Kiba snorted, shaking his head. "That guy's got more guts than brains, but he's gonna pay for it."

"Zaku shouldn't be underestimated," Shino said flatly, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. "Even a wounded animal is dangerous."

Down in the arena, Zaku sneered at Shino, his lips curling into a defiant grin. "Listen, bug freak. I only need one arm to take down a tree-hugging Leaf ninja like you. So don't waste your breath."

Shino tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanging. "Withdraw now," he said evenly, his tone both a warning and a courtesy. "You're injured. Continuing will only worsen your condition."

"Shut it!" Zaku barked, cutting him off. "Save your pity for someone else. I'm not going down without a fight!"

The proctor, Hayate, coughed into his hand and stepped forward. "If both combatants are ready…" He glanced at the two genin, then raised his hand. "Begin!"

Zaku wasted no time, lunging forward with surprising speed for someone in his condition. Shino sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. The audience above watched with mixed reactions—some cringing at Zaku's recklessness, others marveling at Shino's composure.

"Zaku's got guts," Kiba muttered, "but Shino's way out of his league."

Hinata nodded timidly. "S-Shino-kun is v-very c-careful... He d-doesn't take chances."

Shino dodged another swipe from Zaku and countered by releasing a swarm of insects from his sleeves. The bugs moved like a living shadow, spreading out to surround Zaku in a calculated pincer formation. From above, Kurenai smiled faintly, pride glimmering in her eyes. "He's using his environment to his advantage," she remarked softly. "Shino's always been a strategist."

Zaku growled, his good arm glowing faintly as he activated his air-based technique. With a swift motion, he released a blast of pressurized air, scattering the insects. "You think those creepy crawlies are gonna stop me? Think again!"

But Shino was already two steps ahead. While Zaku focused on the immediate swarm, another wave of insects crept silently toward him from behind, unnoticed until it was too late. As Zaku turned, preparing another blast, his wind tunnel arm faltered. His face twisted in confusion.

"What the—?" Zaku's voice trailed off as he realized his arm wasn't responding. Panic flickered across his features.

From above, Kakashi's lone visible eye narrowed. "Smart. He's clogged Zaku's wind tunnels."

Gai crossed his arms, nodding in approval. "It's a clever move. Shino's precision is impressive. He may not have Lee's fiery passion, but his discipline is remarkable."

In the arena, Zaku's frustration boiled over. He swung his arm wildly, trying to dislodge the insects, but the damage had already been done. With his wind tunnels blocked, the pressure inside his arms began to build uncontrollably.

"Damn you!" Zaku roared, his voice laced with desperation. He attempted one last blast, but the pressure proved too much. The air released in a chaotic burst, sending him stumbling backward as his arm hung limp at his side, rendered useless.

Shino remained calm, observing his opponent's state with quiet efficiency. "You should have withdrawn," he said, his voice carrying a faint note of finality.

The proctor stepped forward, raising his hand. "The winner is Shino Aburame!"

Zaku collapsed to the ground, clutching his arm as medics rushed to his side. The audience above let out a collective exhale, some marveling at Shino's skill, others wincing at the brutal conclusion.

"He's good," Ino admitted, her voice tinged with reluctant admiration. "I wouldn't want to fight him."

Naruto crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Shino as the Aburame made his way back to the observation deck. "He's better than good," Naruto muttered. "He's methodical."

Shino rejoined his teammates without a word, his calm demeanor unchanged. Kiba clapped him on the back, grinning. "Man, you really showed that guy! He didn't stand a chance!"

Hinata smiled shyly. "Y-you did r-really w-well, Shino-kun…"

"Impressive," Kurenai said warmly, pride evident in her voice. "You've come a long way, Shino."

Shino adjusted his glasses, his tone as measured as ever. "It was simply a matter of strategy."

As the medics carried Zaku out on a stretcher, the tension in the room began to ease. But for Naruto, the fight had raised new questions. His gaze lingered on Shino, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered how he himself would fare against such a calculating opponent.

As the names flickered onto the display board once again, the next match was announced:

Kankuro of the Sand vs. Misumi Tsurugi

There was a subdued murmur of interest among the assembled genin. Many recalled Misumi as Yoroi's teammate—another participant who had emerged from the second stage battered, but not broken. Yet some wondered if Orochimaru might have been brazen enough to plant multiple agents in one team, which meant this Misumi could warrant extra vigilance. Another genin who had conspicuously withdrawn earlier, Kabuto, also lingered in the back of people's minds as a mystery still unsolved.

Naruto leaned forward against the railing, studying the Sand shinobi intently. "So, that guy… He's the one with something wrapped in bandages on his back, right?" he murmured thoughtfully. He had seen the outline before, but now, more than ever, he was curious to see what it concealed.

Nearby, Ino crossed her arms, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Likely a puppet," she remarked quietly, catching Naruto's attention.

"Puppet?" Naruto repeated, perplexed. "How would that help in a fight?"

Ino shot him a sidelong glance, as though he should know this already. "You've never heard of puppet users? It's a style originating in the Hidden Sand. Shinobi control a human-sized puppet with strings made of their own chakra. Those puppets are often loaded with hidden blades, poison traps, and other nasty surprises. Imagine a giant weapon that moves as you command it."

Naruto's eyes widened, imagining Kankuro's bandaged burden. "So that's what's in there," he said quietly. If the puppet was real, it could hold an arsenal of lethal tools. Combined with poison—something the Sand was infamous for, given their extensive use of local flora and fauna to create toxins—Kankuro's strategy might be every bit as subtle as it was deadly.

Ino nodded. "They say puppet masters from the Sand have clashed indirectly with famed medics from our village. I've heard that Lady Tsunade, one of the legendary Sannin, and some of the greatest puppet-users from Suna were locked in a constant tug-of-war: they invented new poisons, and she invented new antidotes. It's a whole secret war of medical and chemical warfare."

Naruto frowned slightly, disturbed yet intrigued by the idea. He tried to picture this Kankuro deploying hidden syringes or blades from a puppet's compartments, each coated with poison.

The battle began with no wasted time. Misumi advanced first, revealing a disconcerting ability: he could contort and stretch his limbs and torso, bending at unnatural angles to ensnare enemies. In a heartbeat, he had Kankuro pinned, twisting around him like a human snake. Many of the watchers flinched at the grotesque display, the tension thick in the air.

"Just give up," Misumi threatened, his voice coiled with cold confidence. "I can snap your neck like a twig if I choose to."

Kankuro, however, sounded almost amused. "Try it," he said flatly, giving away nothing. It was a brazen response, especially for someone seemingly ensnared. Naruto tensed, unsure what to expect.

Then came the sickening crack. For a moment, it looked as though Misumi had actually done it—broken Kankuro's neck. Gasps rippled through the spectators. But as the dust settled, something was off. Instead of blood or limp flesh, a strange material crumbled away, revealing not flesh and bone, but wood and metal. The Kankuro that Misumi had trapped wasn't Kankuro at all—it was a puppet decoy.

A ripple of astonishment passed through the genin. Ino's eyes narrowed, impressed despite herself. "He tricked him with a dummy puppet," she muttered.

Misumi's confident grin vanished as he realized the trick. Before he could react, the real Kankuro emerged from the bandaged object he carried, controlling his puppet with invisible chakra threads all along. In a swift movement, the puppet's many-jointed arms twisted and latched onto Misumi, trapping him as effectively as he had tried to trap Kankuro.

From above, Naruto watched intently. If the puppet was indeed laced with toxins or tools of war, Misumi was in serious trouble. The medics at the ready below prepared themselves for another grim outcome.

Seeming to confirm Naruto's fear, the puppet extended a needle-thin injector into Misumi's flesh, administering a quick, paralyzing poison. Misumi stiffened instantly, his limbs locking in place as though turned to stone. Unable to move or defend himself, the fight was decided. The proctor, Hayate, cleared his throat and declared the winner: "Kankuro of the Sand."

Kankuro's smirk was visible even from a distance as he released Misumi and stepped back, allowing medics to rush in. The implication of his performance was clear: he was more than capable of outsmarting and disabling his opponents with cunning trickery and an arsenal of hidden weapons. Though this round, he only used a paralytic, Naruto suspected that in the finals, Kankuro might employ something far deadlier.

As Kankuro returned to the balcony where his teammates waited, everyone realized how dangerous the Sand trio really was. They were the children of the Kazekage, after all. That made them formidable opponents, each worthy of caution. The genin who remained silent throughout the spectacle did so because they understood now that the Chūnin Exams weren't just tests—they were miniature wars, staged in the name of balance and deterrence.

The names on the display board flickered again, preparing to announce yet another confrontation. The mood remained tense and thoughtful. Everyone here knew that each match was a step closer to the finals, where strategies would be tested under merciless scrutiny. And Naruto, leaning forward once more, wondered who would be next—and whether he would face one of these cunning Sand siblings himself soon.

The screen flickered, and every eye in the towering chamber turned upward once more. After the tense battles and shocking outcomes that had rattled the gathered shinobi, yet another pairing emerged on the display. The next match: Naruto Uzumaki vs. Ino Yamanaka.

A hush spread through the crowd of genin and spectators. The tension still hung in the air after recent matches—some had ended brutally, others in cunning displays of poison and puppetry. Now, two Konoha nin faced each other: both Leaf-born, both having trained side by side at the Academy, and both having survived the Forest of Death to stand here in the third exam's preliminary stage. Perhaps, some hoped, this match would be gentler. But after everything they'd witnessed, no one felt entirely sure.

Naruto took a deep breath as he stepped forward, descending the steps from the viewing platform onto the worn stones of the arena floor. The tower's improvised battleground was spacious, lit by overhead lamps and natural light from distant windows. He still felt the phantom pain of old injuries—though he had healed since the earlier ordeals—and a heavy sense of responsibility tugged at him. He'd faced monstrous threats, uncovered dark schemes, and now he had to fight a comrade in arms.

Ino approached from the opposite side, her face set in a determined line. She knew as well as anyone that Naruto had changed—he was no longer the loud, brash boy who failed to grasp basic jutsu. Rumors abounded: how he'd displayed astonishing resilience and technique in the Forest, how he'd survived encounters no genin should. Ino swallowed. She needed to be careful. But that didn't mean she'd back down. If she'd reached this point, she had to fight for her future as a chūnin.

"Uzumaki…," she called softly across the stone floor, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty. They were from the same village, after all. This wasn't easy for either of them.

Naruto met her gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile. "Yamanaka," he returned, his tone steady but not unkind. "Let's give everyone a good show."

Around them, the spectators shifted. Shikamaru leaned on the railing, frowning slightly. Hinata's pale eyes were wide and worried, not so much about who would win, but what this match might reveal. Kiba muttered something under his breath about how "this would be interesting," while Shino observed quietly, his mind analyzing possibilities. The Sand siblings watched with guarded interest—Naruto's earlier performances had piqued their curiosity. The Sound ninja who remained glared silently, suspicious of everything after Orochimaru's revealed presence. And the medics stood ready for whatever outcome fate would decree.

"Naruto Uzumaki vs. Ino Yamanaka," he repeated to confirm the match. "If you're both ready, we can begin."

Naruto and Ino nodded. They moved into fighting stances. Ino adopted a balanced posture, her hands forming a half-seal at chest level, prepared for subtle, controlled moves. Naruto took a looser stance, deceptively casual, as if waiting for Ino to make the first move. Inside, he was anything but casual. He remembered Ino's skill set: her clan's Mind Transfer Jutsu was dangerous if he became careless. She lacked brute force compared to some of the others, but if she pinned him even for a moment, she could turn this into a mental battle. Though he had… unusual defenses and training, he wouldn't underestimate her cunning.

"All right," announced the proctor. "Begin!"

Ino sprang into motion, tossing a trio of kunai low to Naruto's left, forcing him to shift aside. Naruto deftly sidestepped, the blades clattering on stone behind him. A testing maneuver, he noted—she was gauging his reflexes.

"You're faster than ever, Naruto," Ino commented, trying to keep him talking, to find a rhythm in his responses. "I'm guessing all that training finally paid off."

Naruto smirked slightly, "You could say that. But don't think I'm going easy on you." With a flick of his wrist, he sent a single kunai whistling back at her. Not a lethal throw—just enough to test her stance.

Ino deflected it with a deft flick of her own blade. Sparks flew, and she advanced, darting from side to side. Naruto watched carefully. He wouldn't reveal his more complex abilities unless forced. He had come a long way, mastering Nine-Tails chakra usage to an extent (though suppressed by seals now) and possessing knowledge gleaned from secret training. He had talents that went beyond the Academy ninjutsu Ino expected. But he also knew the less he showed now, the better. The finals would be the stage to unleash more if needed.

Ino's next move was more direct: a sudden attempt at a Mind-Body Switch Jutsu. She formed the seal swiftly, eyes focused entirely on Naruto. Her chakra flared as she launched the intangible projection of her consciousness toward him. If it hit, Naruto's body would become hers to control, leaving him helpless.

Naruto's eyes narrowed. He felt the subtle tug of her technique, an invisible thread reaching for his mind. With a subtle shift of his chakra, he pushed off to the side. The jutsu streaked past him, missing by a hair's breadth. Ino gasped—her control would snap back to her body, leaving her momentarily disoriented. He capitalized on that opening.

With a burst of speed—nothing overtly superhuman, just well-trained agility—Naruto crossed the distance. He landed lightly before Ino, but instead of striking at her head or torso, he aimed a sweeping leg strike to upset her balance. Ino staggered, forced to block low, giving him time to leap back without finishing the blow. He wanted to show he could best her without brutalizing her. For all the grimness of these exams, Ino was his comrade, not an enemy like Orochimaru's agents.

Ino's breathing came a bit faster now. She realized that going head-to-head with Naruto physically would be pointless. He was stronger, faster, and more experienced than the boy she remembered. She needed a strategy—maybe lure him into a trap or feint. The Mind Transfer was too risky; he was too alert.

She decided to try something else: Body Flicker to reposition behind him and attempt a less direct approach. But Naruto anticipated the flicker—he sensed the subtle chakra shift as she prepared it. When she vanished, he spun around, meeting her emerging form with a wooden practice kunai he'd once chosen in the Academy. He didn't stab—he tapped her wrist, redirecting her strike off course.

"Your chakra control's improved," Naruto noted quietly, stepping aside as she tried a low kick. He blocked it easily. Their exchange was controlled, more like a spar than a death match. "That was a nice flicker technique. But you'll need more than that."

Ino grit her teeth. "Don't patronize me!" she snapped, lunging again. This time, she aimed a punch at his side while throwing a chakra-suppressed smoke pellet at the floor. The arena filled briefly with a thin haze, obscuring direct line-of-sight. Maybe she could slip behind him and land Mind Transfer at close range. If she got him from behind, even a split second's confusion might give her an opening.

Naruto coughed lightly, squinting in the haze. He knew Ino had limited offensive techniques, but he refused to underestimate her cunning. She was skilled at reading opponents and improvising. The smoke drifted around them, the muffled sounds of shifting feet echoing.

"Tricky," he murmured, making a few clones. Three shadow clones emerged silently, fanning out. Ino would have to guess which was real. The crowd watched intently, some surprised at how measured and calm Naruto seemed—gone was the blustering Academy dropout, replaced by a poised shinobi making calculated moves.

Ino's eyes stung from the smoke, but she caught a glimpse of multiple Naruto figures through the haze. Clones—of course he'd use them. She cursed under her breath. If she tried Mind Transfer now and hit a clone, it'd be a wasted effort. She needed to identify the real Naruto.

The clones began moving silently, forcing her to react. She threw two kunai at the pair coming at her flank, both vanished in puffs of smoke upon impact—just illusions. Another clone darted in front. She aimed a kick at it, landing a direct hit. It too vanished. She realized too late the trap: each clone dispersed revealed her position and line-of-attack.

Suddenly, a form loomed behind her. She tensed, ready to spin and strike, but the figure didn't attack. Instead, Naruto's voice came from behind her shoulder, calm and steady: "It's over, Ino."

She tried to pivot and fling a desperate Mind Transfer, but at that moment, something subtle happened. A soft gust of air brushed her senses—the faintest ripple of wind chakra. Naruto had executed a barely visible Wind Release: a tiny vacuum of air around her body that disrupted her aim and forced her to shift her stance or lose balance. The slight stagger killed her timing. She couldn't form the seal properly.

Ino grimaced, frustrated tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She hated feeling so outmatched. But she also knew reality: Naruto was simply stronger. If she tried something reckless, she could end up seriously hurt, or worse. And after witnessing the brutality of previous matches, she understood Naruto's mercy for what it was: respect for a comrade.

Naruto stepped forward into her peripheral vision now, letting her see him plainly. He hadn't drawn blood. He hadn't even landed a solid, punishing blow beyond those minimal taps and blocks. Yet he dominated the engagement completely.

"Don't drag this out," he said, voice quiet enough that only she could hear. "I know you're strong, Ino, and I respect your courage. But we both know how this ends."

Ino's fists trembled at her sides. "Damn it… I wanted to show I've grown, too."

"You did," Naruto reassured. "Your moves, your chakra control—they're better than I remember. But… I've changed a lot, Ino. This exam… it's not a game. I promise you'll have other chances to prove yourself, in ways that matter more than this."

Her heart ached with disappointment, but also a strange relief. She realized he wasn't mocking her; he was offering her a dignified exit. She could fight on, but what would it gain her? Another thirty seconds of scrambling before he pinned her definitively? She lowered her gaze. "I… I surrender," she said finally, voice steady but subdued.

Naruto nodded, stepping back immediately to give her space. The smoke had cleared, and the watchers above saw Ino raise her hand, signaling her forfeit. The proctor coughed, a note of approval in his voice as he called out: "Ino Yamanaka surrenders. The winner: Naruto Uzumaki!"

A murmur spread through the crowd—some relieved that no one got hurt this time. Others disappointed by the lack of a flashy finish. But after the grim spectacles they'd witnessed, many appreciated this respectful close.

On the upper levels, Shikamaru sighed, glad Ino wouldn't be carried out by medics. Hinata exhaled softly, proud that Naruto avoided unnecessary brutality. Kiba scratched his head, a mix of envy and grudging respect on his face.

As Ino turned to walk away, Naruto spoke softly once more: "Thank you for the match." She looked back, managing a small, pained smile. "Yeah… you too. Don't lose in the finals, okay?"

He nodded, watching her head back up to her team. She'd be disappointed, but she was alive and intact. That mattered more than any title.

Naruto stood in the arena for a moment longer, glancing around at the battered arena floor, recalling the screams and chaos of earlier fights. This time, at least, ended more humanely.

The proctor signaled him to leave, and Naruto obeyed, climbing the stairs back toward the spectators.

A hush fell over the makeshift arena as the digital panel high above flickered and settled on two names. The proctor, a lean man with tired eyes and a persistent cough, raised his voice so all could hear:

"Neji Hyuuga versus Hinata Hyuuga!"

This announcement sent a ripple through the crowd. Two members of the famed Hyuuga clan facing each other in these preliminaries was unexpected. Many whispered quietly: the Hyuuga were said to be one of the strongest and most traditional clans in the Hidden Leaf. To see them pitted against each other was something rare and, for some, unsettling.

From the elevated platforms where the genin teams and various spectators stood, all attention turned to a boy with long dark hair and pale, opalescent eyes—Neji Hyuuga. He moved without hurry, his steps certain and graceful, yet there was an underlying tension in the set of his jaw. Across from him on another platform, a slender girl with short, dark-blue hair and the same distinctive eyes tried to gather her courage. Hinata Hyuuga stood still, shoulders trembling slightly, as if each breath required a conscious effort.

Naruto Uzumaki leaned forward against the railing, his gaze fixed on the pair below. He had seen and endured much in the last few days—the perils of the Forest of Death, the brutal matches that had already unfolded here, and the startling revelations of treachery hidden in the shadows of the exams. He himself had emerged from the forest with a newfound reputation: rumors had spread that he had single-handedly subdued a team of Sound ninja, and some even claimed he was responsible for forcing out Orochimaru's hidden agents. With that, Naruto had earned the wary respect of many, including those like Neji who normally looked down on others. But despite Neji's newfound caution regarding Naruto's abilities, the male Hyuuga's confidence—and arrogance—towards his own kin had not diminished.

The tension in the hall deepened as Hinata finally descended into the arena. Her steps were hesitant, each footfall an act of willpower. Despite her earlier efforts at self-improvement and the support of her teammates, facing Neji seemed to draw out all her old insecurities. Naruto frowned slightly. He remembered how shy Hinata was, how she used to watch from a distance. Lately, he'd sensed a spark in her, a quiet determination. But now, under Neji's cold, unblinking stare, that spark looked fragile. It pained Naruto to see someone he considered gentle and kind step into such a confrontation.

Whispers rose among the onlookers. Shikamaru, leaning lazily against a pillar, muttered under his breath, "This is going to be troublesome." Ino, arms folded, bit her lower lip, worried for Hinata's well-being. Kiba glanced at Hinata, his teammate, clenching his fists as if willing her to be strong. Shino remained silent, his expression unreadable behind his dark glasses, but he, too, observed closely, knowing Hinata's gentle nature and the ferocity hidden behind Neji's calm facade.

The proctor cleared his throat, coughing into his fist. "You both ready?" he asked them softly. Neji nodded sharply, his gaze never leaving Hinata's face. Hinata managed a nod as well, though hers was shallow, almost faltering.

"Begin," said the proctor, stepping back.

For a moment, nothing happened. The pair simply stared at each other, their Byakugan eyes reflecting like distant moons. But the tension was far from empty—it was a silent storm. Neji's face was composed into a mask of quiet contempt, and Hinata's posture, though improved from the timid girl she once was, showed uncertainty at the core.

When Neji finally spoke, his voice was low and even, yet laced with unmistakable malice. "You should forfeit, Hinata," he said. The way he addressed her by name—no honorifics, no titles—spoke volumes. "You know you have no chance. Fate has already decided who is strong and who is weak. And you, Hinata, were never meant to stand on equal ground."

Those words sent a chill through the onlookers. Naruto's grip on the railing tightened. He was no stranger to being looked down upon, but the sheer cruelty in Neji's tone was different. It was as if he took pleasure in crushing Hinata's hope. Why did he harbor such negativity towards her?

Up in the balcony, various jōnin and chūnin observers exchanged uneasy glances. Among them, Gai and Asuma—both prominent mentors—watched with stony faces. Kurenai, Hinata's own sensei, leaned forward, eyes narrowing, ready to intervene if things spiraled out of control. They knew the Hyuuga clan's strict traditions could breed resentment, but to see it manifest so viciously was alarming.

Hinata swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "I… I've changed," she managed to say, though her tone wavered. "I won't run away this time."

Neji's lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but it held no warmth. "Changed?" he echoed. "You think a weak heart can become strong just by wishing for it? Fate is not so kind." The veins around his eyes bulged slightly, the sign of a fully active Byakugan. "I can see your every muscle tremble, every bead of sweat. You're afraid. Even now, you know you cannot defeat me."

Naruto's jaw clenched. He had never liked the idea of fate deciding who won or lost. This talk of inevitability and predestined weakness angered him. He recalled how he'd proven himself again and again, how he'd shocked enemy and ally alike by surpassing their expectations. Seeing Neji dismiss Hinata so easily made his blood boil. Still, he kept quiet for Hinata's sake, not wanting to shatter her concentration or humiliate her by intervening.

With a trembling breath, Hinata settled into the Hyuuga clan's Gentle Fist stance, arms raised, fingertips ready. It was a style as beautiful as it was deadly—strikes aimed not at blunt impact, but at shutting down an opponent's chakra network directly. Neji mirrored her stance, though far more relaxed, as if certain of his victory.

They moved in a blur of graceful footwork. Two Byakugan-wielding shinobi clashing, their strikes almost too fast for ordinary eyes. Each attempted to find an opening: Hinata lunged forward, aiming to tap into Neji's chakra points. Neji deflected easily, countering with a blow that brushed past Hinata's shoulder, forcing her to recoil. To most observers, it seemed even at first glance—Hinata attacked, Neji defended. But those who were skilled enough to read body language and subtle shifts in chakra knew better. Neji was holding back, merely toying with her. He moved with chilling efficiency, and when he decided to press an advantage, it would be swift and merciless.

Kiba swore under his breath, frustrated by Hinata's apparent inability to land a meaningful hit. Ino tapped her foot nervously, remembering her own match against Naruto—how he had respectfully overwhelmed her without cruelty. The contrast was stark. Shino remained impassive, but inside he measured how the fight's current pattern would end, and the conclusion did not favor Hinata.

Naruto's eyes darted from strike to strike, assessing Hinata's form. He saw hesitation in her movements—her fear of truly committing to a strike against a clan member. He willed her silently to be braver, to realize that here and now, she could stand on her own feet. He recalled how just moments ago he had seen her muster courage in the forest's trials. Had that resolve vanished? Or could it still burn within her?

"Your stance is shaky," Neji said, voice dripping with scorn. He lunged in for the first serious assault, fingertips stabbing forward like needles. Hinata gasped, twisting to avoid a direct hit. She succeeded partially, but Neji's second strike grazed her forearm and instantly numbed it. She hissed in pain as her chakra flow stuttered.

"Don't falter, Hinata," Naruto whispered from the stands, too softly for her to hear. Yet Hinata glanced up at the balconies once, and their eyes met. He didn't smile—he only gave a firm nod. That simple gesture held a message: Don't give up. Show him you're stronger than he thinks.

As if energized by that silent encouragement, Hinata tried once more. She shifted her stance, attempting a feint to the left, then attacked from the right. Neji allowed her to come closer before reacting. His riposte was merciless: a series of taps along her right arm, cutting off chakra flow to that limb. Hinata cried out and stumbled back, now partially crippled in her offense.

Neji paused, savoring this moment. "This is reality," he said softly. "All your dreams, your changed self—none of it matters. Your fate is sealed. You are too kind, too gentle to survive as a shinobi. Surrender before you face something far worse than humiliation."

Hinata's chest rose and fell rapidly, tears threatening at the corners of her pale eyes. She knew he was trying to break her spirit. She knew these words were not only about winning a match, but also about crushing any hope she had of ever standing out from the shadow of her clan's expectations. Her body ached, her chakra flow disrupted, yet she refused to kneel. With a shaky voice, she answered, "I will not run. I will not yield. Even if… Even if I can't win, I must show you… I must show myself… that I won't give in to fate."

Neji's response was a darkening of his gaze. He had hoped she would crumble quickly. Her defiance irritated him. The veins around his eyes pulsed as he intensified his Byakugan, scanning not just her chakra flow, but her very will. He saw fear, pain, and uncertainty—but also that stubborn kernel of determination. It enraged him. Fate had given him a cursed existence—branch family servitude, bitterness, and loss. To him, Hinata, the main family's supposed heir, represented everything he despised: privilege without strength. How dare she try to break from the fate assigned to her?

The strikes that followed were brutal. Neji no longer held back. He pressed forward, each blow precisely shutting down key chakra points, turning Hinata's body into a weakening vessel. She struggled to defend, blocking a few attempts, but each block cost her dearly. Soon she was panting, sweat trailing down her cheeks, blood at the corner of her mouth from a previous hit. Yet each time she fell, each time Neji's voice lashed at her with cruel remarks about her worthlessness, she forced herself to rise again. Her legs trembled, but she stood.

The crowd was silent, horrified yet fascinated by the spectacle of cruelty from one Leaf shinobi to another. Among them, some murmured that this had gone too far. Others argued that these were the exams—harsh reality for aspiring chūnin. Still, the tension was palpable. The jōnin on standby shifted anxiously, prepared to intervene if Hinata's life truly hung in the balance.

Naruto's nails bit into his palms. This was beyond a normal fight. Neji was practically torturing her spirit. Memories of injustices he'd suffered swirled in Naruto's mind. He had never cared much for clan politics or bloodline hierarchies, but now he understood more deeply how cruel and senseless they could be. He recalled how he, in the Forest of Death, had overcome enemy shinobi through cunning and courage, not cruelty. He had left them alive and intact. Here, Neji seemed intent on breaking Hinata completely.

As if aware of the rising tension, Hinata, now barely able to stand straight, forced words past her trembling lips. "I pity you," she said quietly. The phrase startled not only Neji, but everyone watching. Neji froze, confusion and anger flickering over his features. She continued, "You… you suffer so much… trapped by your ideas of fate… I… I hope one day you can be free."

Neji's face twisted, a flash of rage contorting his refined features into something monstrous. Without warning, he prepared a final, lethal strike. His hand rose, chakra focusing into a razor-sharp point aimed directly at Hinata's heart. One final blow would end this. The hall tensed as they realized he intended to kill her. The proctor opened his mouth to shout, but the tension robbed him of breath for an instant. Some spectators screamed.

Naruto jerked forward, ready to leap over the railing if no one else moved. He would not let this happen. But the jōnin were faster. Like a blur, two figures appeared in Neji's path—Gai and Asuma, seasoned jōnin, each grabbing a limb. Gai caught his arm mid-thrust, Asuma steadied the struggling genin from behind. Kurenai slipped in front of Hinata's collapsed form, shielding her from Neji's fury. The strike never landed.

Hinata sagged to her knees, her eyes half-lidded as medics rushed to her side. They quickly knelt, green chakra glowing around their palms, voices hurried yet professional as they attempted to stabilize her. "Lungs punctured… need immediate care," one muttered. Another brought out gauze and special ointments. They set to work swiftly, aiming to save her life.

Neji, subdued by the strong arms of Gai and Asuma, glared venomously at Hinata's prone form. He tried to regain composure, tried to reassert the cold mask. Yet something was different. Before this match, he would not have cared who watched or what they thought. But now, standing in the same arena as Naruto Uzumaki, he felt a weight. He had witnessed the rumors of Naruto's prowess in the forest, how he overcame a Sound team single-handedly. That had made Neji cautious of Naruto's reaction and potential strength, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. To earn Naruto's enmity might not be wise.

He managed to stifle his rage and forced himself into a neutral facade. The jōnin released him once they were sure he was calm. Gai gave him a stern look—a silent reprimand that spoke volumes. Asuma's frown was deep and disappointed. Kurenai hovered protectively around Hinata, eyes flashing disapproval at Neji.

Naruto jumped down from the balcony, ignoring the murmured protests of those nearby. He approached slowly, stopping a few meters away from Neji and the cluster of jōnin. Hinata was being carried away on a stretcher, a line of medics trailing behind. Naruto's eyes flicked to her once, confirming she was at least alive, then settled on Neji. The tension between them was a living thing now, winding like a coiled snake.

"Is that what you call fate, Hyuuga?" Naruto's voice was quiet, yet cut through the stillness. "Nearly killing someone from your own clan just to prove a point?"

Neji didn't respond immediately. He glanced at Naruto, and for a moment, wariness flickered in his pale eyes. He knew Naruto was no ordinary genin—he had seen or at least heard how Naruto dismantled enemies in the forest. And Naruto's voice held no doubt or fear, just raw disgust at what had almost happened.

"I have no reason to explain myself to you," Neji said at last, managing to sound aloof. But he could not entirely mask the tension in his stance.

Naruto took a step closer, and several shinobi tensed, worried another confrontation would erupt. The blond genin's tone remained controlled but stern. "You talk about fate as if it can't be changed. That's not how I see things. I've proved people wrong before, and I'll do it again. Hinata—" He paused, anger tightening his throat. "Hinata showed more courage in this one match than you did by trying to kill her. She might have lost, but she didn't break."

Neji's jaw tightened. He resented Naruto's words, but he also felt the pressure not to start another incident. The jōnin present would not tolerate more violence, and Neji wasn't eager to test Naruto's strength directly. Not after what he had learned. He dismissed Naruto with a noncommittal shrug and moved to leave the arena. The crowd parted before him, uneasy and silent. As he climbed the steps, he felt the weight of many eyes: contempt, disgust, pity, confusion. Naruto's included.

Ino and Shikamaru approached Naruto as he remained near the arena floor. Ino's face was pale, shaken by what she'd witnessed. "I never thought it would get this bad," she said softly, voice trembling. "The exams are brutal, but this…"

Shikamaru clicked his tongue, looking away. "It's always been possible for a match to go too far. But that was something else entirely. At least the medics intervened in time." He looked at Naruto carefully, observing the tension in the blond's posture. He could sense the fury beneath that calm facade. "You okay?"

Naruto exhaled slowly. He looked up, following the medics disappearing through a corridor, carrying Hinata. "Not really," he admitted. "But it could've been worse." His eyes hardened. "She'll live. That's something."

A hush fell again as the spectators tried to return to normal, to wait for the next match. But the mood was changed now, darker. The tension from Hinata and Neji's fight lingered like a storm cloud. The Leaf genin felt it strongly—this was no game, no friendly tournament. This was a battlefield dressed as an exam hall. The difference was subtle but lethal.

Naruto clenched his fists again. He recalled how he had tried to encourage Hinata with a silent nod. She had stood so bravely despite everything stacked against her. And even though she had collapsed, she never truly surrendered her spirit. That kind of quiet courage didn't vanish easily, and Naruto found comfort in the idea that Hinata's willpower could outlast even this ordeal. He swore to himself that if he ever got the chance, he'd show Neji—and anyone else who believed in fate's tyranny—that people could change their destinies.

High up on another platform, the proctor coughed, trying to regain everyone's attention. He was preparing to call the next match. Naruto glanced upward, noting how everyone tried to refocus. The show, after all, must go on. The Chūnin Exams would not pause for anyone's trauma or discomfort.

As the list of names began cycling again, people looked less excited and more wary. They had seen enough to know these prelims were no mere formality. The atmosphere turned thick with tension and unspoken fears.

Naruto, stepping away from the center of the arena, paused at the foot of the stairs leading back to the viewing platforms. He shut his eyes briefly, letting the noise of murmurs and whispers wash over him. He pictured Hinata's resolute, tearful gaze, the moment before she collapsed, and Neji's hateful stare.

"Fate," Naruto whispered to no one in particular. He spat the word out like spoiled food. He'd show Neji what he thought of fate if they met in the finals. He would rip that arrogant certainty apart. But for now, he forced himself to calm down and moved quietly, blending back into the crowd of shinobi and spectators.

As he climbed the steps, he noticed how some gave him space, wary of the rumored strength he possessed. The memory of him defeating enemy shinobi in the forest weighed on their minds. He recalled how easily he had handled foes who underestimated him. Neji, for all his skill, had also subtly shown caution in Naruto's presence. That gave Naruto a strange reassurance. At least the arrogant Hyuuga genius recognized that not all fates were fixed. Naruto would take that recognition and forge it into a promise: when the time came, he'd prove that fate was not a prison cell, but a test to break free from.

Behind him, the faint echoes of medics clearing a path for Hinata faded into the corridors. The proctor tapped his clipboard, calling the next competitors forward. And so the exams continued, each fight another chapter in this complex, grueling trial of strength, will, and character. The arena had seen cruelty, bravery, despair, and defiance—and it wasn't over yet.

Naruto reached the upper platform and found a spot along the railing again. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Ino and Shikamaru exchanged glances and decided not to disturb him. He was lost in thought, thinking of Hinata's quiet bravery and Neji's bitter wrath. Thinking of how he had changed and how he would keep changing. The silence between them now felt different, less oppressive, more understanding.

---

As the screen flickered and settled on the next match, an uneasy hush drifted over the gathered shinobi. The display read: Tenten of the Leaf versus Temari of the Sand. From one side of the arena, Temari—tall, blonde, and wielding a large, closed fan strapped across her back—hopped gracefully down, radiating confidence with every step. On the other, Tenten vaulted over the railing and landed on the arena floor, her eyes set with determination. She clenched a few shuriken between her fingers, poised to begin the instant the proctor gave the signal.

High above, her comrades watched anxiously. Ino crossed her arms and frowned, leaning against the railing beside Shikamaru and Kiba. Shino stood a short distance away, hooded and silent, his posture revealing nothing. Nearby, Gai and Lee observed with rapt attention, tension etched in their stances. Gai's brows knitted together as he studied the Sand kunoichi. He recognized that self-assurance—Temari didn't look the least bit worried.

"Come on, Tenten! Show her what you've got!" Lee called down, voice echoing in the tall chamber. There was no response from below, but Tenten's posture straightened at his encouragement.

"Don't get reckless, Tenten," muttered Shikamaru, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. "Her opponent looks too calm. It's… troublesome."

Ino glanced sideways at Shikamaru. "You think Tenten stands a chance?"

He hesitated before replying, "Tenten's skilled, but that Sand ninja… something about her stands out. Look how she carries herself. She's expecting to win without effort."

Kiba tapped a foot restlessly. "Tenten's got a wide arsenal of weapons and jutsu," he argued, trying to reassure himself as much as the others. "She won't go down easily."

In the arena, Hayate coughed into his hand. "Begin."

The match started with a blur of steel and cunning. Tenten wasted no time, hurling shuriken at Temari, their metal edges catching the light as they soared through the air. Temari smirked, unfurling her giant fan just enough to create a gust of wind. The blades slowed, wavered in mid-flight, and clattered harmlessly to the floor. No one missed the confident curl of Temari's lips.

"Wind manipulation," Shino spoke quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "She's using the fan to produce controlled gusts, neutralizing any projectile."

Gai's hands tightened on the railing. He recognized this tactic. "If Tenten relies solely on thrown weapons, she's at a severe disadvantage."

Down below, Tenten narrowed her eyes, realizing her initial attempt had failed. So what if simple shuriken weren't enough? She reached into her pouch, producing kunai with explosive tags. With a flick of her wrist, she launched them in a carefully orchestrated pattern. If Temari's wind could block steel, maybe a blast could shake her composure.

Temari watched, unimpressed. A subtle shift of her fan, a stronger burst of air—and the kunai spun off-course, their tags ripping open prematurely against a stone wall. An explosion rattled the arena, but Temari stood unscathed, her clothes barely rustled by the shockwave.

In the stands, Lee's face fell. "This… is not good," he murmured. He remembered training sessions with Tenten—how her accuracy was impeccable, how her strategies were inventive. Here, none of it mattered if the weapons never reached their target.

"Can't she change tactics?" Ino asked, a note of worry creeping into her voice.

"She will have to," Shikamaru answered. "But what can she do if her entire style is based on projectile weaponry?"

Tenten grit her teeth. She had more tricks up her sleeve than just a few kunai. She pulled free a pair of summoning scrolls and unfurled them dramatically, tossing them upward. The scrolls rotated high above her, and Tenten leapt into the air, weaving a brief series of hand signs. Twin rising dragons—her signature technique—emerged in a swirl of ink and smoke. Weapons poured forth from the scrolls: swords, spiked maces, axes, scythes—a literal storm of metal raining toward Temari.

Many in the stands gasped. Even the typically reserved Shino lifted his brows in mild surprise. This was impressive: a relentless barrage of blades from every angle.

"Now we're talking! That will overwhelm her for sure!" Kiba said, leaning forward, eyes gleaming.

But Temari only chuckled, her voice carrying easily in the quiet tension of the hall. With a flourish, she fully opened her fan for the first time, revealing three distinct purple circles painted on it. She swung once, and a shock of wind—sharper, more controlled—erupted. The entire hail of weapons froze mid-air, caught in a turbulent current, then swirled away harmlessly. They crashed into walls, floors, and empty space, not a single blade even grazing Temari's clothing.

Above, Ino's stomach twisted. She looked a bit ill at the thought of all that effort gone to waste. The sound of clanging metal echoing through the hall made everyone's skin crawl.

"Unbelievable," muttered Shikamaru, eyes narrowed. "This Temari… her wind mastery is perfect. Tenten's attacks are completely nullified."

Gai said nothing, but his jaw tensed. He knew Tenten's prowess well. Her skill with weapons was exceptional. To see it rendered useless so effortlessly stung, not only as her teacher but as a Leaf shinobi. He feared what might happen if Tenten tried to push herself further.

Down below, Tenten hovered in mid-air for one desperate moment, watching her ultimate technique fail utterly. She landed, chest heaving, beads of sweat on her brow. Temari spun her fan casually, letting its tip rest against the ground as if bored.

"Is that it?" Temari called out, voice mocking. "I expected more from a Leaf ninja who made it this far. Honestly, it's pathetic."

Tenten's eyes flashed with anger. She had one last trick: ninja wire hidden among the fallen weapons. If she could just manipulate them—her fingers twitched subtly, pulling at nearly invisible threads. She intended to bind Temari, or at least distract her long enough to slip in a direct blow. It was a gamble, but better than nothing.

The wires tightened, weapons shifted, scraping along the floor as Tenten attempted to pull them around Temari from multiple angles. For a split second, it looked like something might finally catch the Sand kunoichi off-guard.

Temari's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of mild irritation. She gave her fan a single, decisive swing. A razor-sharp current sliced the wires cleanly, leaving them to fall uselessly to the floor. The tension drained from Tenten's shoulders as she realized there was nothing left to try.

A hush covered the crowd as Temari decided she'd played long enough. She adjusted her grip, inhaled quietly. "Wind Style: Wind Scythe Jutsu!" she announced. With a practiced motion, she conjured a focused gust of slicing air. Tenten tried to brace, raising her arms in a futile block. The blast lifted her from her feet and spun her violently. Tiny cuts opened across her exposed skin, drawing thin red lines of pain.

Gasps erupted from above. Gai leaned forward, knuckles whitening on the railing. "Tenten!" he shouted, voice echoing. Lee's eyes blazed with anger and worry. Tenten hit the ground hard, coughing, stunned and bleeding. She tried to push herself up, but her muscles refused to obey.

Temari approached slowly, fan now folded tightly. She showed no pity in her eyes—just disdain. Instead of allowing the proctor to end it, Temari positioned her closed fan beneath Tenten's falling body, letting her land on the hard metal surface with a painful thud. Tenten let out a weak gasp, too hurt to even cry out loudly. The sound of metal meeting flesh was sickening.

"Enough," muttered Shikamaru above, feeling sick himself. "This is supposed to be a test of skill, not cruelty."

Ino covered her mouth, horrified by the display. Kiba growled under his breath, anger welling in his chest. Shino's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. They had all known these battles could be harsh, but this deliberate humiliation… it was too much.

Gai and Lee jumped down as soon as the proctor signaled the end of the match, rushing to Tenten's side. A stretcher arrived swiftly, medics working quickly to assess her injuries. Lee's fists trembled at his sides, tears of frustration gathering at the corners of his eyes. "Tenten…" he whispered, voice choked. "You'll be okay, hang in there."

Gai placed a reassuring hand on Lee's shoulder. "We must trust the medics," he said quietly, though the anger in his voice was barely contained. He glared at Temari's retreating form. That finishing move had been unnecessary. Tenten was already beaten. Doing that was pure sadism.

"How could you treat an opponent like that?" Lee shouted after Temari, his voice echoing in the silent chamber.

Temari paused at the edge of the arena, turning her head slightly. "She knew the risks when she entered the exam," she replied coolly. "If that's all your team can do, better learn your place now." Then she walked off, leaving tension crackling in her wake.

Lee made a move as if to pursue, rage practically shining in his eyes. Gai stepped in front of him, blocking him with a firm hand. "No, Lee," he said sternly. "Focus on Tenten. Don't let anger cloud your judgment." The younger ninja clenched his teeth, staying put but hissing through them in frustration.

All around, Leaf shinobi exchanged uneasy glances. There was no love lost between them and the Sand team after this display. Kiba muttered angrily about "arrogant foreigners," while Ino stood pale and shaken, staring after the medics carrying Tenten away.

Shino, ever quiet, noted how Tenten's final gambit—her ultimate technique—had crumbled before a single enemy's wind style prowess. He made a mental note: underestimating these foreign competitors would be a grave mistake. Temari had shown them no mercy, and her team could be worse, especially that red-haired boy rumored to be even more lethal.

From their vantage point, Team 8—Kiba, Hinata (though not present after her own match), and Shino—knew well how grim these exams could be. Hinata's recent ordeal against Neji underscored that no one was safe, no matter their alignment. The realization that Gaara, Temari's teammate, might not even leave his opponents alive was chilling. They had survived the forest and seen hints of Gaara's brutality from afar. Kiba had caught wind of rumors describing monstrous acts. If facing Temari was already this bad, facing Gaara would be like walking into the jaws of death itself.

"At least Tenten lived," Ino said softly, voice trembling. "That's something, right?"

"Yes," Shikamaru agreed quietly, arms folded. "We should be grateful for small mercies in a place like this."

As Tenten was carried away, Gai and Lee followed closely, their forms tense with worry and shame. This wasn't just about losing a fight—this was humiliation and near-mutilation in front of hundreds of eyes. The Chūnin Exams were meant to be a showcase of talent and determination. Now, they were seeing the darker side: the cruelty some participants wielded, the pain inflicted not just to win but to break the opponent's spirit.

The platform quieted. Another match would be called soon, another set of names to flash on the screen, but the mood had changed. Everyone's shoulders were heavier, their minds more guarded. The Leaf genin realized they were not only fighting for promotion or village pride but for survival and dignity.

Below, the cleaners moved swiftly, gathering up the scattered weapons and twisted wires Tenten had unleashed in vain. The metallic scent of blood and steel lingered in the air. The proctor adjusted his clipboard, coughed softly, and prepared to announce the next contestants.

In the stands, each young ninja took a breath, steadying themselves. This was a war of sorts, a shadow war fought under the guise of an exam. The line between victory and cruelty had blurred. This was the lesson Temari had taught them all: strength alone was not enough; one needed to be ready for ruthlessness as well.

Kiba ran a hand through his hair, scowling. "I'll never understand why people fight like that."

Ino's eyes remained glued to the empty arena floor, her voice barely audible: "That's the reality of shinobi life, isn't it?"

Shikamaru sighed, closing his eyes. "Yeah. Troublesome, but real."

Shino stood silent, pondering strategies, countermeasures—anything that might help if he had to face someone like Temari or Gaara. The rest daydreamed about vengeance or justice, but Shino calmly considered the future fights. They all needed to be prepared.

---

In a dimly lit chamber behind the tower's main hall, Kakashi knelt beside Sayuri, carefully guiding her to sit within a complex seal array etched onto the cold stone floor. Sweat beaded on his brow as he worked, ink brush in hand, painstakingly replicating a pattern that was as intricate as it was unforgiving. Each stroke had to be perfect. He knew there would be no margin for error.

Kakashi felt like he was on autopilot. He'd studied countless seals—memorized them with the help of his Sharingan—but today, his mind was elsewhere, heavy with worry. This particular seal was a combination of intricate ink patterns and chakra-infused markings Jiraiya had contributed to, at least in theory. It was meant to reinforce the barrier against the curse mark that Orochimaru had inflicted on Sayuri. Normally, a standard sealing jutsu would suffice, but after what Naruto had unintentionally done, supercharging the situation by his own strange interaction with the curse seal, the mark on Sayuri's neck had flared dangerously. Now it demanded something stronger, far more complex. Hence the need for this overcomplicated seal.

He stepped back, surveying the intricate lines and symbols. "That should do it," he murmured, capping the ink pot and setting it aside. He placed his palm on Sayuri's neck, right over the curse mark. "Okay, Sayuri. Brace yourself. This might sting."

Sayuri winced slightly, her eyes half-lidded with fatigue. She'd been through so much—Sakura's death still weighed heavily on their hearts, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a kunai. "Do you want me to bite onto something?" she asked, attempting dry humor in the face of pain.

Kakashi mustered a faint chuckle. "A little," he said softly. "Sealing Art: Advanced Curse Mark Suppression." He channeled his chakra through the ink, and the seal glowed faintly, causing Sayuri to grit her teeth as a burning sensation spread from her neck. Steam rose off the mark as the ink etched itself into her very chakra network, forcing the curse mark's malign energy back down, confining it.

Sayuri let out a muffled cry, her body trembling. Kakashi's heart tightened at the sound. He knew how strong she was—if she was crying out, it must have been excruciating. He kept his hand steady, pouring just the right amount of chakra into the seal. Slowly, the mark's angry redness faded, replaced by a subdued, barely visible pattern beneath the seal's glyph. The worst of it seemed to pass, and Sayuri's breathing slowed, though her skin was clammy and pale.

"Easy," Kakashi whispered, his voice gentle. "It's done."

Before he could relax, however, a subtle shift in the shadows along the far wall made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Someone was here. Kakashi lifted his head, his Sharingan uncovered and gleaming in the dim light. His muscles tensed, every sense on high alert.

"Come out. I know you're there, Lord Orochimaru," he called, his tone low and edged with warning.

A soft, almost amused chuckle echoed from the darkness as Orochimaru stepped forward into the weak torchlight. His golden, slitted eyes drank in the scene, lingering on the now stabilized curse mark on Sayuri's neck. "Such a personal touch," Orochimaru purred. "A new sealing technique I don't recognize. My, my, Kakashi, have you taken up sealing arts while I was gone?"

Kakashi's jaw clenched. This was bad. Orochimaru's presence here, in the tower's back room, was nothing short of brazen. "Stand back," Kakashi warned, lifting his hand as blue-white lightning danced across his palm. The Chidori hissed and crackled, the light illuminating the grim set of his face. "That's close enough."

Orochimaru raised an eyebrow, smiling languidly. "Quick to draw, aren't we?" He eyed Kakashi with that unsettling amusement. Then his gaze flicked to Sayuri, who sat slumped against the sealing array, barely conscious. A cruel, knowing smirk curled Orochimaru's lips. "How noble of you, Kakashi, protecting your student. A pity your other one…" He paused, his smile deepening. "…couldn't be saved."

Kakashi's Sharingan spun faster, rage tightening his chest. Mentioning Sakura—her brutal death still fresh, still festering like an open wound—was a low blow. Orochimaru knew exactly where to strike. "You're pushing your luck," Kakashi growled.

Orochimaru's laughter was soft, snake-like. "Oh, I'm sorry. Too soon?" He feigned innocence, but his eyes shone with sadistic pleasure. "Such a lovely girl. She put up quite a fight, I must admit, but in the end… it was all for nothing." His voice lowered, dripping venom. "Her screams were rather poetic, don't you think?"

Kakashi stiffened, every muscle tensed. Sparks from his Chidori scorched the floor as he strained not to leap forward and ram the lightning blade through the Sannin's chest.

But Orochimaru, as if savoring the tension, chose another topic. "And let's not forget that dear Naruto of yours," he said, smirking as he folded his arms, feigning casual interest. "Yes, I crossed paths with him in the Forest of Death. Quite the show he put on—tapping into powers no genin should ever possess." Orochimaru's eyes narrowed mischievously. "Such ferocity. He fought me tooth and nail, forced me to retreat even. I'm almost impressed. But I wonder, Kakashi… do you really know what that boy is capable of?"

Kakashi's heart sank. He and the Hokage had been briefed by Naruto about his encounter with Orochimaru—Naruto had confessed the broad strokes: Orochimaru's infiltration, his attempts to bite Sayuri, and Naruto's unleashing of extraordinary power to drive the Sannin away. But the details were vague. Now hearing Orochimaru talk about it so openly, with a gleam of interest, set Kakashi's nerves on edge.

"I know enough," Kakashi replied coldly, stepping protectively between Orochimaru and Sayuri. "I know Naruto stopped you from marking another victim."

Orochimaru chuckled, low and dangerous. "Stopped me? Perhaps momentarily. But that boy's display only made me more curious. The raw chakra he wielded… and that strange dojutsu he bears. Tell me, Kakashi, have you figured out its secrets?" He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Does the Hokage know, I wonder?"

Kakashi's glare was murderous, but he forced himself to remain still. This was Orochimaru—unpredictable, cunning. The slightest misstep could be fatal. "I'm not answering your questions," he said flatly. "And I'm not letting you anywhere near Sayuri or Naruto."

Orochimaru sighed as though disappointed. "Such loyalty. You know, Kakashi, you might have saved her from the worst of the curse mark's effects this time. But seals are tricky. Given enough time, I could unravel that little masterpiece of yours. And next time, I might just see what new heights that Uchiha can reach under my guidance."

Kakashi's Chidori flared brighter, illuminating his masked face. "If you take one more step toward her, I'll end this conversation permanently."

"My, what bravado," Orochimaru teased, taking a step closer, testing Kakashi's resolve. The killing intent radiating from the Sannin spiked, hitting Kakashi like a tidal wave. For a moment, Kakashi saw himself losing his head, saw Sayuri falling victim to Orochimaru's sadistic curiosity. A chill crawled up his spine, sweat beading under his mask. But he held firm. He had to. For Sayuri, for Naruto, for Sakura's memory.

Then a faint sound—the quiet croak of a frog—echoed through the darkness.

Orochimaru's eyes flicked toward the sound, his smirk vanishing. A small green toad hopped into the light, fixing the Sannin with a blank stare. "Quit toying with the boy, Orochimaru," came Jiraiya's voice from the toad's mouth. A moment later, Jiraiya emerged from the amphibian's maw, stepping into the room with a casual air that belied the tension in his posture.

Orochimaru's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "Jiraiya?" he hissed, his earlier composure wavering. He hadn't expected Konoha's Toad Sage to appear. "You have a knack for ruining my fun."

Kakashi let out a breath of relief he didn't realize he'd been holding. Jiraiya had arrived just in time. He didn't glance at Sayuri—her condition stable for the moment—but he thanked fate silently that Naruto's sensei had chosen now to intervene.

Jiraiya crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing at Orochimaru. "Uchiha Sayuri is off-limits. Sorry, but your games end here. I know you're not just after her." He paused. "You attacked Naruto in the forest, tried to mark Sayuri. Care to tell me what the hell you're doing, or shall I guess?"

Orochimaru gave a mocking chuckle. "Wouldn't you like to know? Konoha, this peaceful little village, hides so many secrets. I'm here for any number of them. The Leaf's politics, its corruption ripe for exploitation… or maybe your precious Hokage. Maybe I'm here for him." He rolled the tension in his shoulders as though deciding which secret to share.

Jiraiya's chakra flared, forcing Orochimaru to tense. "You're after the old man, aren't you?" Jiraiya said bluntly. "Just say it."

"Of course I am," Orochimaru replied, the darkness creeping back into his voice, "But not today. Perhaps I'll kill him when he's too old to stand on his own, just to watch your beloved leaf weep."

Jiraiya clenched his jaw, chakra surging. The pressure in the room skyrocketed, the floor cracking beneath their feet. Orochimaru responded in kind, his own chakra flaring dangerously. Kakashi gritted his teeth, stepping closer to Sayuri, shielding her with his body and chakra. The clash of will was tangible, like static in the air, making it hard to breathe.

For a moment, it seemed as if they would come to blows right then and there. Jiraiya's fists twitched at his sides, and Orochimaru's snakes hissed softly from some unseen shadow.

But Orochimaru conceded the moment. With a derisive laugh, he stepped back, allowing his chakra to recede. "Damn you, Jiraiya. For once, you're exactly where you need to be, and at just the right time. If only the same could be said for your precious students, but alas, we know how that turned out." He cast a meaningful glance at Sayuri, then shifted his gaze to Kakashi, relishing the subtle wince that escaped the Jonin's stoic front at the reminder of Sakura. "Goodbye, Jiraiya. We'll be seeing each other very soon."

With that, Orochimaru vanished into the darkness, his presence evaporating as though he'd never been there at all.

Jiraiya stood, arms still folded, glaring into the spot where Orochimaru had stood. "Yeah, take a hike, you snake," he muttered bitterly, old memories surfacing behind his eyes. Memories of times gone by, of students lost and regrets that never fully healed.

Kakashi finally allowed his Chidori to dissipate, the lightning fading into dim sparks. He turned to Jiraiya, relief warring with exhaustion in his eyes. "Thank you," he said softly. "You saved us. If you hadn't shown up…"

Jiraiya nodded curtly, no humor in his expression. "Report to the Hokage at once," he instructed. "I'll do some digging. Something's not right about these exams. We may have to cancel them."

Kakashi scooped Sayuri up into his arms gently, careful not to disturb the newly placed seal or aggravate her wounds. "Understood," he said. He glanced one last time at the spot where Orochimaru had disappeared, his mind still buzzing with the Sannin's words—about Sakura, about Naruto, about the secrets hidden in Konoha's shadows. Whatever Orochimaru's true goal was, it was bigger than any of them realized.

As Kakashi left, Jiraiya bit his thumb, summoning a group of toads. The amphibians popped into existence, their eyes reflecting the tension in the room.

"We have work to do," Jiraiya said grimly to the summoned creatures, each of them deadly serious. "Konoha is in danger."

Outside, the night air was cool against Kakashi's face as he stepped from the tower's shadowy confines. He held Sayuri carefully, mindful of the sealed curse mark at her neck. Orochimaru's chilling laugh still echoed in his mind. The Sannin had left them with more questions than answers, and a warning that danger lurked around every corner.

Kakashi would do as instructed—he'd report to the Hokage. He'd ensure Sayuri got proper medical attention. And then he would do whatever it took to prepare Naruto, Sayuri, and what remained of Team Seven for the trials that lay ahead. Because now, more than ever, he realized Orochimaru wasn't the only threat. The entire village was at risk, and they needed every ally, every weapon at their disposal.

But first, he would remember Sakura—her sacrifice, her death—and he would not let Orochimaru's taunts break his resolve. Konoha would endure, as it always had, through pain and loss, forging its shinobi into something stronger. And he would ensure that the legacy of Team Seven was not defined by a single tragic loss.

With that thought in mind, Kakashi vanished into the night, determined to safeguard what remained of his team, and to uncover the truth behind Orochimaru's sinister game.

---

The moment the names appeared on the screen—"Kiba Inuzuka vs Naruto Uzumaki"—a subtle hush fell over the large observation area. The sunlight filtering through the high windows caught motes of dust, illuminating a stage now set for two very different shinobi. On one side, Kiba Inuzuka smirked broadly, bearing that confident, almost smug grin he was known for. He hopped the railing and dropped into the arena, landing lightly on bent knees, and without missing a beat he slapped his thigh, signaling his partner Akamaru to join him. On the other side, Naruto Uzumaki took a breath, leaning casually against the balcony rail as if in no particular hurry. He supposed it was wishful thinking that he wouldn't have to face an extra opponent since his team was down a member & Sayuri was in no shape for double duty. He made no grand show of entering; he simply vaulted down, landing with silent efficiency.

"Yes! Perfect! Got the luck of the draw, Akamaru," Kiba announced, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. The dog at his side barked in agreement. "We got ourselves the easiest mark possible. No crazed foreigner, no monstrous brute… just Naruto." He laughed, long and low, as if the outcome were never in doubt. "This will be quick," Kiba muttered, stretching his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. His stance was casual yet predatory, his confidence like a palpable aura.

Akamaru barked again, tail wagging, sharing in Kiba's apparent delight. The crowd murmured softly. Everyone recalled how both boys made it here. Naruto had arrived near the deadline after what was rumored to be an intense ordeal in the Forest of Death. Kiba, on the other hand, had reached the tower early, fresh and rested. The difference was stark: one looked well-rested, the other presumably fatigued from the trials before. Kiba's grin widened at the thought that Naruto must be worn out. If even half the rumors were true, Naruto should be low on chakra and stamina.

Naruto took a step forward, loose-limbed and calm. The tension in the air thickened, but he remained unruffled. Inside his mind, the voices of his Otsutsuki parents murmured softly—a presence only he could sense. He could imagine his father's calm baritone echoing through that inner space: "Steady yourself, my son. Remember, your goal is not to reveal all your strength. Remain composed." His mother's gentler voice followed: "You've trained so hard, Naruto. You understand his moves before he makes them. You must not let anger or pride dictate your actions."

Naruto acknowledged these silent voices with a mental nod. He would not show off too much; he would not crush Kiba unnecessarily. He wanted to prove himself, yes, but he would not turn this into a cruel demonstration. He might even find a way to end this fight without severely hurting Kiba or Akamaru. That, of course, depended on how far Kiba pushed him.

"Hey, Naruto!" Kiba's voice shattered his reverie. Naruto blinked, focusing again on the present. "What's wrong? Scared?" Kiba snickered, exposing his pronounced canines. "I get it, really I do. After all, you must know your place by now. You barely scraped through the forest while I've been resting. I'm at my peak, you're at your worst. Just quit now. Save yourself the embarrassment."

Naruto tilted his head slightly, as if pondering the suggestion. "You're awfully confident," he replied softly, voice carrying just enough for Kiba to hear. "But I'm not the type to back down." He raised a hand in a gesture almost apologetic. "Also, watch your mouth. I don't plan on lying down and making this easy for you."

Kiba's grin faltered momentarily. He expected fear, nervous laughter, or maybe bluster. Instead, Naruto's voice carried a calm assurance that clashed with the image Kiba had of the supposedly incompetent ninja. Something about Naruto's eyes—though normal at a glance—held a strange focus. Kiba shrugged it off. "Fine, have it your way. Don't blame me when you're begging for mercy."

The proctor, standing between them, let out a short cough. "If both participants are ready, begin."

At that signal, Kiba wasted no time. He dashed forward in a blur, Akamaru at his heels. His approach was straightforward: close the distance, unleash a barrage of taijutsu strikes, and overwhelm Naruto before he could form a strategy. Naruto simply watched. He made no move to flee, nor did he brace. Just before Kiba's fist connected, Naruto stepped aside—a half-step so minimal it looked effortless. Kiba's fist met empty air. Akamaru leapt, expecting Naruto's landing spot, but Naruto dropped low, spinning gracefully out of reach. Neither blow connected.

The crowd leaned in, interest piqued. Naruto's movements were deceptively casual, yet precise. Kiba growled, "Lucky dodge," and came in again, more aggressively. A flurry of punches and kicks, each one sharper and faster than the last, rained down. Naruto slipped through them as if reading Kiba's intent moments before his muscles tensed. It wasn't luck; it was anticipation and practice. Naruto's training under Danzo's Root—though no one knew of it—had honed his reflexes and situational awareness beyond what anyone would suspect. He blocked one strike with the back of his forearm, pushed off to the side, and evaded Akamaru's snap of jaws by a hairsbreadth, always moving just enough.

"Stop dancing around!" Kiba snarled, frustration creeping into his tone. He had expected an easy victim, not this intangible phantom. On impulse, Kiba withdrew a handful of smoke pellets and crushed them underfoot, flooding the area with dense smoke. From within the haze, he and Akamaru attacked simultaneously. Now, Kiba counted on his superior sense of smell and hearing to find Naruto, while Naruto would be blinded.

"Not bad," Naruto muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed against the stinging smoke. Inside his mind, his father's voice sounded: "You can sense him by the disturbance in the air. Trust your instincts." His mother added: "Remember, you have trained in darkness and silence before. This smoke is nothing new."

Indeed, Naruto's senses, sharpened through relentless training, needed no line of sight. He heard the faint scrape of sandals against stone, the quiet growl from Akamaru's throat. He sensed the direction of their approach easily. When Kiba lunged through the smoke, Naruto pivoted on one foot and met the attack not with brute force but a careful sidestep and a palm strike to Kiba's shoulder, redirecting his momentum harmlessly.

"Wh—?" Kiba exclaimed, stumbling out of the smoke, startled that Naruto had been able to counter even in the darkened haze. Furious now, Kiba decided to up the ante. He tossed down a soldier pill for Akamaru and another for himself. The onlookers gasped softly—this was not a standard tactic. The stimulant would boost their chakra and physical abilities significantly, but at great risk. Akamaru's fur bristled and began to redden slightly, a sign that the dog's body was altering under the influence of the pill. Kiba's eyes took on a wild gleam, posture hunching as if becoming more animalistic himself.

Naruto observed calmly as the smoke began to dissipate. The crowd saw Kiba's new state and whispered among themselves. This was something beyond typical academy-level tactics. The Inuzuka was going feral, letting instinct override strategy. Kiba charged again, faster this time, each strike heavier. Akamaru moved like a red blur beside him. But Naruto remained composed. He blocked a claw-like swipe from Kiba with a forearm, not wincing in the slightest. He stepped forward into Kiba's guard, unsettling him, forcing Kiba to step back. When Akamaru tried to bite at Naruto's ankle, Naruto flicked his leg up just in time, forcing the dog's jaws to snap shut on empty air.

"Look at you," Naruto said quietly, voice carrying a note of pity. "All this strength, but you're losing control." He saw Kiba's face twist with rage at that. "Is this really how you want to fight, like a cornered beast?"

"Shut up!" Kiba growled. He formed a seal and Akamaru jumped onto his shoulder. "Man-Beast Clone!" With a puff of smoke, Akamaru transformed into a second Kiba. Now two identical feral Kiba figures confronted Naruto. They wasted no time, launching into their clan's signature technique: "Fang Over Fang!" They spun into twin drills of rotating fury, tearing through the air towards Naruto at breakneck speed.

Naruto dashed forward, not back, surprising everyone. He ducked under one spinning form, letting it blast overhead. The other streaked past him. They circled back immediately, the howling sound of their rotation filling the arena. The stone floor chipped under their assault. Naruto timed it perfectly, leaping up at just the right moment so both Kibas collided with each other's gust of air, briefly canceling their rotations.

As they staggered from that slight misalignment, Naruto let a bit of his inner power show. Not too much—just enough. His pupils narrowed into slits, whisker marks on his cheeks darkened, and a faint red gleam colored his eyes. He did not transform physically beyond that, but the change in atmosphere was profound. An intense, primal aura radiated from him, something that made even the feral Kiba pause. There was a quiet hush from the stands as they sensed a shift they couldn't fully comprehend. Naruto settled into a crouch, a stance reminiscent of a predator about to pounce—perfectly balanced and ready.

Kiba's clone snarled, and the original Kiba mirrored the expression. The animalistic confidence he had before wavered momentarily at Naruto's new look. "What… what are you?" Kiba hissed, voice tense.

Naruto answered simply, "I'm just a shinobi who doesn't run." He sprang forward with startling speed. Not raw, reckless speed—no, his movements were economical, every step purposeful. Kiba tried to meet him head-on with a claw strike, but Naruto caught Kiba's wrist mid-air and twisted gently, making Kiba's arm angle harmlessly away. Then, with a calm precision that belied his fierce new look, he flicked his foot into the back of Kiba's knee. Kiba's leg buckled, and he fell to one knee, cursing.

The second Kiba—Akamaru—attempted to attack from behind. Naruto released the original and spun around gracefully, raising an arm to deflect the incoming blow. He allowed himself a subtle smirk, as if to say, "I anticipated that." With a slight red glow still in his eyes, Naruto flicked a shuriken from his pouch not towards the dog-turned-Kiba, but towards the ground at his feet. The projectile embedded there, forcing the clone-Kiba to shift stance and lose momentum.

"Not good enough," Naruto said softly, more to himself than to them. He kept his voice low and calm. His mind was clear, guided by the internal counsel of his parents' distant voices: "Show no cruelty; simply dominate. Make him see the futility." Another faint whisper from his mother: "You are in control, always."

Enraged by Naruto's effortless counters, Kiba decided to go for broke. He spat out another pellet. The crowd gasped audibly at this. Consuming one pellet was already risky, but two was madness. The veins on Kiba's neck bulged, and his pupils dilated further. The red-furred Akamaru-Kiba clone mirrored this reckless action, both now teetering on the edge of true frenzy.

Naruto's posture shifted again, leaning slightly forward, toes gripping the stone floor. He was ready for their next desperate assault. The Fang Over Fang came again, this time wilder, less controlled, but more forceful. It tore through stone and kicked up clouds of dust as they charged. Naruto waited calmly, letting them commit fully.

At the last possible instant, Naruto leapt straight up, performing a twisting maneuver in mid-air. The twin spinning forms collided beneath him. Before they could recover, Naruto landed lightly behind them. With a subtle movement, he planted an explosive tag on the ground. Not a lethal one, just enough to create a small shockwave. He stepped back and made a quick sign. A controlled blast of air and dust erupted, disorienting Kiba and his partner again. They yowled in frustration.

"Running, huh?" Kiba taunted breathlessly, though deep down he knew that wasn't what Naruto was doing. Naruto was guiding this entire fight, controlling distances, choosing when to engage, when to withdraw. Kiba lashed out blindly into the dust. But Naruto wasn't there anymore—he'd circled around quietly, stepping as silently as a shadow.

"All this bravado," Naruto replied from behind them, "and yet, what have you gained?" His tone was neutral, neither mocking nor kind. He let himself show just a hint more feral intensity—eyes glowing faintly red, whisker marks pronounced—just enough to make Kiba realize the difference in their states. Kiba might have strength and rage, but Naruto had absolute control and cunning.

The Akamaru-Kiba clone howled and lunged. Naruto caught the clone's wrist mid-lunge and twisted gently. Instead of snapping bones or inflicting serious damage, he simply applied pressure to force the clone's elbow joint against its natural bend. The clone whined in pain. Naruto swiftly planted a foot against its hip and shoved it away with minimal force, sending it sprawling. No serious harm done, just humiliation.

Kiba tried to capitalize on this distraction, sprinting in and slashing with his clawed hand. Naruto predicted the angle perfectly, raising his forearm to deflect the blow. Metal bracers hidden under Naruto's sleeves caught the claw harmlessly, producing a metallic clang. Naruto stepped inside Kiba's guard again and delivered a short, sharp elbow strike to Kiba's ribs. Not enough to break them, just enough to knock the air out of him.

Kiba gasped, staggering back, eyes wide. The feral mask cracked, revealing genuine shock. How could Naruto be so good? Kiba's mind reeled: Naruto was supposed to be tired, supposed to be weak. Yet every exchange ended with Naruto unscathed, barely exerting himself.

Naruto felt Kiba's confusion. Good. Confusion might push Kiba to yield before something worse happened. "If you keep pushing this, it'll only hurt you," Naruto said quietly. The crowd watched with bated breath, impressed by Naruto's calm dominance.

"Shut up!" Kiba wheezed, desperate. He tried another tactic: "Akamaru, Fang Passing Fang!" They launched a coordinated move—Akamaru, still disguised as Kiba, attacked from the left while Kiba attacked from the right. In theory, Naruto would have to pick one threat, leaving him open to the other. Perfect teamwork, combined with raw strength and speed.

Naruto's Otsutsuki father's voice resonated inside him: "You know these patterns. You drilled responses to them a hundred times in training. Execute." Naruto obeyed. He feinted a retreat to the left, drawing Akamaru-Kiba's strike forward. At the last second, he leapt upward, flipping over Akamaru. Mid-flip, he tossed a flash bomb downward. The bright flare stunned both Kiba and Akamaru as they tried to adjust their attacks. Blinded and disoriented, they stumbled.

Naruto landed gracefully behind them again. This was becoming a pattern: Naruto always ended up behind them, controlling the field. He was playing with them, albeit gently. Another step and he hammered a precise knuckle strike at a nerve point in Kiba's shoulder, numbing his arm. Another tap to Akamaru's flank, making the dog yelp and roll away, confused. Both opponents ended up on their knees, panting, ears ringing, vision blurred.

The crowd murmured. Everyone could see who had the upper hand now. Kiba's doping had done nothing but shorten his fuse and cost him clarity. Naruto's calm, measured approach had neutralized all that extra strength and speed. Without brutality, Naruto had dominated every exchange.

"Had enough?" Naruto asked softly, standing a few paces away, arms folded. He reined in the feral aura, letting his eyes return to normal and the tension in his whisker marks fade. He had shown that side of himself to rattle Kiba and prove a point. No need to continue once it served its purpose.

Kiba growled, trying to stand. His legs shook. The double dose of stimulant was wearing off strangely, leaving him woozy. Akamaru dispelled his transformation and whimpered, the dog's natural instincts telling him this fight was lost. Kiba looked at Akamaru, heart heavy. He didn't want his companion hurt further. Naruto didn't look even winded, just slightly keyed up. The difference was galling.

"No… no way," Kiba rasped, attempting bravado. "I can still—"

Naruto raised a hand, interrupting him. "Don't," he said, tone gentle but firm. "You're done, Kiba. I don't want to hurt you or Akamaru. We're both from the same village. This is an exam, not a death match." He nodded towards the proctor, who had been watching warily. "I'm ready to end this if he is."

Kiba trembled, pride warring with reality. He wanted to lash out again, to prove something, but what was left to prove? Naruto had beaten him at every turn without even breaking a sweat. Kiba tried to snarl a retort, but all that came out was a hollow exhale. He slumped, shoulders dropping, fury draining into weary resignation.

The proctor observed carefully. Seeing no further effort from Kiba to continue, and with Naruto standing poised, uninjured, fully capable of continuing, it was obvious. With a cough, the proctor raised his hand: "The winner, Naruto Uzumaki!"

A few light cheers erupted from various corners. The tension dissolved as medics rushed in. Naruto stepped back, giving them room. He watched silently as they examined Kiba's condition and helped Akamaru calm down. The dog looked at Naruto with something like apologetic confusion, as if not sure how to process losing so cleanly.

Naruto didn't gloat. Instead, he dipped his head in a respectful nod towards Kiba. "You fought bravely," he said quietly. "Just… be careful what you rely on in the future. Power without control doesn't mean much."

Kiba glared half-heartedly, but the anger wasn't there anymore. More than pain, he felt shame and confusion. He had never considered that Naruto could surpass him. It was a bitter lesson, learned in front of everyone.

As medics escorted Kiba and Akamaru away, Naruto remained in the arena a moment longer. Inside his mind, he heard the approving murmurs of his parents again. His father's voice warm with quiet pride: "Well done. You fought with honor and restraint." His mother's voice gentle and encouraging: "You've shown that strength can be tempered with mercy. That is the shinobi you want to be, isn't it?"

Naruto closed his eyes briefly, acknowledging their praise. Yes, this was the shinobi he wanted to be—strong enough to win, wise enough to hold back when possible. No need to prove himself by crushing an opponent who was outmatched. He had proven himself anyway, by outthinking and outmaneuvering Kiba at every turn.

Turning on his heel, Naruto walked towards the exit stairs. The crowd parted for him, a mixture of curiosity and newfound respect evident in their hush. Many had expected a grueling, uncertain match. Instead, they witnessed a calm, clinical demonstration of skill. Naruto had even revealed a flicker of something more primal yet harnessed it without letting it run wild. That would linger in their minds for some time.

As Naruto made his way up the stairs leading to the observation area, the tension of the fight began to settle. He felt his muscles relax, his steps becoming steady and measured. His mind, however, lingered on the feral intensity Kiba had unleashed and how easily he had countered it. The voices of his parents echoed faintly, praising his restraint and control. He allowed himself a small, private smile before his thoughts turned to what lay ahead.

The crowd in the observation deck parted slightly as Naruto reentered, some murmuring in surprise at his unscathed condition. Others, those who had underestimated him, cast furtive glances, recalculating their opinions of the blond ninja. Naruto barely paid them any mind. He was scanning the area, half-expecting to see Sayuri leaning against the railing with her usual sharp expression. But she wasn't there.

Instead, Kakashi reentered the observation area from one of the side corridors, his face unreadable as always beneath his mask, but his visible eye carried a rare edge of concern. He approached Naruto with a calm yet purposeful stride, and the moment he was close enough, his voice cut through the low hum of conversations around them.

"Good fight," Kakashi remarked, his tone even, though his gaze lingered on Naruto a moment longer than necessary, as if assessing him. "I caught the end from the hallway. You handled yourself well."

Naruto gave a small shrug, downplaying the praise. "Kiba was all talk. Akamaru fought harder than he did."

Kakashi chuckled lightly, though his visible eye didn't share the humor. Instead, he motioned toward a quieter corner of the observation area, and Naruto followed, curious. Once they were somewhat removed from prying eyes, Kakashi leaned in slightly, his tone more serious.

"I came straight from dealing with Sayuri," he began, his voice low. "The curse mark has been sealed, but it wasn't an easy process. She's in the medical ward now, recovering. The seal will hold, but… the strain on her was significant."

Naruto's expression shifted, his usually carefree demeanor darkening. "Is she okay?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

Kakashi nodded. "She's stable, but exhausted. I'd recommend not visiting her just yet. The medics need time to monitor her condition." He straightened and gave Naruto a long, appraising look. "Speaking of strain, that fight seemed intense. But you don't look the least bit winded."

Naruto smirked faintly, his confidence slipping through. "Kiba thought strength and speed were enough. He didn't realize I've been through worse."

Kakashi's gaze lingered, his lone eye narrowing slightly. It was subtle, but Naruto could feel the weight of it. Kakashi wasn't just observing his performance—he was trying to read deeper, to piece together something that wasn't entirely obvious.

"I see," Kakashi said finally, his tone neutral. "Well, keep your focus. The next match might reveal your future opponent. I suggest you pay close attention."

With that, Kakashi stepped away, moving toward the railing to observe the ongoing matches. Naruto stood still for a moment, his mind now split between thoughts of Sayuri's condition and the matches ahead. He exhaled slowly, centering himself. There would be time to check on her later, but for now, he needed to stay sharp.

He turned back toward the arena floor, ready to study the next fight with renewed focus. If this was the first step toward proving his worth, he wasn't going to let anything—or anyone—distract him from the path forward.

---

The faint mechanical hum of the board drew the assembled genin's gaze upwards. The display, a rectangular device etched with foreign runes and subtle chakra filaments, began to rotate through a series of names. It eventually slowed and two names came into focus: Gaara of the Sand and Rock Lee of Konoha.

A stir rippled through the crowd. For many, this match promised a glimpse into the heart of two distinct shinobi philosophies: Gaara, rumored to be an unstoppable enigma from the desert, and Lee, renowned for his raw perseverance and taijutsu mastery. The tension thickened, a tangible substance weighed in the air.

Below, in the open arena, the proctor Hayate—his perpetual cough a familiar soundtrack to these preliminaries—raised his hand. The whispers ceased. Even those who previously underestimated these tests had grown sober, having seen more than enough blood and brutality to understand the seriousness of the moment. Hayate's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the two competitors. Both were formidable in their own way, and he expected no mercy.

High above, Naruto leaned forward over the railing, his gaze intent on the two figures preparing to fight. He could sense that this battle would be different from the rest. Something about Gaara had unsettled nearly everyone who laid eyes on him. Naruto's mind wandered momentarily to Hinata, the girl Kurenai had taken away. Hinata's injuries from her own match were severe, but at least she'd survived. The forest, these exams—none of it was a game. The presence of foreign shinobi, each wielding deadly skills, had proven that the Chunin Exams were as much about survival as they were about promotion. Naruto clenched his jaw, silently wishing that Hinata recovered well.

Lee's voice cut through the silence: "Yes! Finally it is my time to shine!" He leapt over the railing with a joyful bound, green jumpsuit glinting under the sparse overhead lighting. The sound of his sandals tapping the stone floor as he landed echoed through the stillness. His smile was radiant, as if this was the moment he had long awaited.

From a vantage point not too far from Naruto, Guy punched the air, his teeth sparkling with enthusiastic fervor. "Yosh! Show him the blazing passion of your youth, Lee!" he cried, his voice carrying to every corner. Guy's tone was proud, supportive, and entirely unwavering. He believed in Lee—utterly, completely.

Naruto observed quietly, his blue eyes narrowed. He remembered seeing Lee's skill earlier, how fast he was and how he'd intervened at certain critical moments in the forest. Yet the figure of Gaara drew his attention more. Gaara stood on the opposite side of the arena, gourd at his back, arms folded in his typical stance of eerie calm. That gourd—the source of rumors and speculation—demanded focus. Rumor had it that Gaara had never been touched by an enemy's strike. Not once.

"Gaara of the sand," murmured Shikamaru from somewhere behind Naruto, voice low and thoughtful. "He's the one everyone's talking about." The lazy genius sounded less lazy now, more intrigued, as if calculating odds and strategies in his head. Naruto didn't respond, but he shared the curiosity. Gaara's reputation had preceded him: ruthless, silent, unstoppable. And now he faced Rock Lee, whose taijutsu prowess had just begun to be understood by the Konoha crowd.

Ino, leaning against a pillar a few meters away, furrowed her brow. "This Gaara… I've heard he's something else. But Lee's no pushover either." She tried to sound confident, yet a note of worry tinged her words.

Neji, standing apart, said nothing, but his focus was absolute. He had his own reasons for taking note of Lee's performance. The Hyuuga genius, known for his stoicism and certain fatalistic philosophy, recognized strength when he saw it. He had dismissed many as weak before, including Hinata, but Lee's unwavering determination forced him to pay attention. Naruto glanced at Neji and noted the flicker of caution in the Hyuuga's pale eyes. Neji, too, was evaluating what might happen if he faced either of these two in the finals.

Kakashi arrived quietly at the railing, having stepped back to speak briefly with a masked ANBU about certain official matters. He settled in next to Naruto. "This is one match I've been waiting to see," Kakashi remarked, voice calm. "Lee's perseverance is something else. And Gaara… well, let's say I'm curious."

Down below, Hayate gave his customary cough. "Cough… Are both fighters ready?" His voice carried. Gaara merely inclined his head fractionally, a bare minimum acknowledgment. Lee gave a thumbs-up and a bright grin, "Yes, sir! I'm ready to give it my all!" The proctor nodded. "Then begin… cough."

No sooner had Hayate stepped back than something small hurtled through the air toward Lee. The green-clad boy caught it deftly. He opened his hand: it was the cork from Gaara's gourd. The display was casual, almost dismissive, as if Gaara had begun fighting without even moving. A hush fell over the spectators.

The cork's removal allowed something granular to spill forth—a steady stream of sand trickled onto the ground, pooling around Gaara's feet. With a malicious calm, Gaara directed the sand with an unseen force. It shifted, swirled, and formed a protective veil around him.

From above, Naruto frowned. "Sand? That's his weapon?" The notion was puzzling. Sand lacked the solidity of metal or the sharpness of blades. How would he use it effectively against Lee's taijutsu?

Kakashi, arms folded, responded softly, "Don't underestimate him. There's something about that sand. It moves as if it's alive. I've heard of techniques that manipulate metals or minerals, but this seems different." Kakashi's tone was thoughtful, as if recollecting old intel. "The Kazekage's lineage controls metallic particles with Magnet Release, using gold or other minerals, but this… pure sand is unusual."

Lee wasted no time. He dashed forward, leaving behind a green blur, and aimed a swift punch at Gaara's face. Yet as his fist approached, the sand rose up, forming a barrier that met his knuckles with a dull thud. The shield of sand rippled but held firm, deflecting Lee's blow effortlessly. Lee sprang back, eyes wide in surprise. He tried again, this time feinting left, then right, lashing out with a spinning kick. Yet each attempt was met by that uncanny shield of sand, responding to Lee's attacks as if it possessed a mind of its own.

Gaara didn't move an inch. He stood relaxed, arms crossed, as if observing a trivial display. The sand responded perfectly to Lee's speed and strikes, an impenetrable guard. "Is that all?" Gaara said quietly. His tone was soft, almost bored, yet it carried to the stands as if amplified by tension alone. "I expected more."

Guy, watching intently, clenched his fists. "Lee, don't let it discourage you!" he called out, voice brimming with support. "Show him your true strength! Remember your training!" His fervor tried to bridge the gap between their vantage point and the arena floor, hoping his student's spirit would remain unbroken.

Lee nodded slightly, face stern. He attacked again, faster this time. He unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, each blow more intense than the last, pushing his body's limits. Yet still the sand caught or blocked every strike. Everyone watching began to understand: speed alone might not be enough. Gaara's sand reacted instantaneously, no matter how unpredictable Lee's movements became.

Naruto watched with growing apprehension. Lee was incredibly fast—faster than anything he had ever seen from a pure taijutsu user. But what good was speed if it couldn't break through that barrier? Each failed attempt to harm Gaara weighed on the Konoha spectators. One of the Sand siblings, Temari, smirked from the gallery, clearly confident that Gaara would remain untouched, as always.

Gaara's quiet voice drifted up again, "I hoped for something more entertaining. You're quite dull." His pale green eyes gleamed with a hidden menace. Beneath the calm exterior, there was a storm raging within Gaara's mind. A voice clamored for violence, to prove existence through blood and suffering. He clutched his head briefly, and in that moment, the sand faltered slightly. It was a tiny opening, and Lee, ever vigilant, took it without hesitation. The taijutsu specialist darted in, delivering a swift strike that rattled against the sand, making Gaara's eyes widen fractionally. The shell of defense wavered but didn't fail.

If Lee's normal speed and strength weren't enough, he needed another approach. Above, Guy noticed his student's predicament and murmured, "Lee, you know what must be done. Do not hesitate." His voice was low, almost a whisper to himself. Kakashi angled his head toward Guy, a frown forming beneath the mask. "You can't mean…"

Guy nodded solemnly. "It's too early for him to show his full hand, but if he doesn't, he'll never break through that sand."

Naruto caught their exchange and wondered what they meant. Lee had more secrets? More techniques beyond this incredible speed?

Down in the arena, Lee dropped into a different stance, something that caused both Guy and Kakashi to stiffen. The genin in the stands exchanged confused glances. One or two recognized this stance from glimpses of training sessions or from hearing rumors of forbidden taijutsu techniques.

Without waiting, Lee reached down to his ankles and revealed heavy training weights strapped to each leg. The thick metal gleamed dully in the artificial lighting. With a grunt, he unfastened them and let them drop. They hit the floor with a thunderous crash, cracking the stone and kicking up dust. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Those weights must have weighed a tremendous amount. If Lee had been moving that fast with them, how fast could he be now without them?

Naruto's eyes widened. He recalled seeing Lee's speed before, but never imagined he'd been so heavily handicapped. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. This fight was escalating into something beyond ordinary skill.

Guy gave Lee a nod from above, and Lee took that as permission. He began moving again, this time vanishing from sight. Gaara's eyes narrowed. The sand swirled around him uncertainly, as if confused by Lee's sudden disappearance. Then, with a burst of green energy, Lee materialized behind Gaara and struck with such force that the sand shield cracked under the impact. The audience collectively inhaled, stunned. Gaara, who had never been touched, now felt his defenses tested like never before.

Kakashi muttered, "Incredible," as he watched Lee's image flicker around Gaara, each blow chipping away at the sand armor that Gaara formed next. Fragments of hardened sand rained down, and Gaara's face twisted into an expression of annoyance, then something darker. The red-haired sand ninja realized he needed more drastic measures to hold off this relentless onslaught.

Lee's attacks were breathtaking, but exhausting to maintain. Already his breathing grew ragged. He knew the longer this went on, the more likely he'd tire before breaking through completely. Gaara's sand seemed infinite, fed by unknown reserves of chakra. The question weighed heavily: Could Lee find a way through before his own strength gave out?

Guy watched anxiously, recalling the countless hours Lee had spent pushing past human limits. He had taught him the Primary Lotus, a forbidden technique that opened the initial chakra gates, unleashing hidden energy at the cost of terrible strain. But would the Primary Lotus alone suffice against Gaara's monstrous defense?

In the stands, a hush had fallen. Even the most talkative genin were speechless, transfixed by the duel below. Ino and Shikamaru observed with wide eyes, their earlier casual banter replaced by deep unease. They began to comprehend what real power and determination looked like.

Eventually, Lee slowed again. He had inflicted small cracks in Gaara's shell, but not enough. The sand repaired itself too quickly. Lee's lungs burned, muscles screamed, yet he refused to back down. This was where men like Lee differed from ordinary shinobi. Pain, fear, and logic would have told him to stop, but Lee's heart was set on victory. He would risk everything.

A subtle flicker of green chakra crackled around Lee's form. Veins bulged in his temples, and his youthful face twisted in pain and intense focus. Guy watched with held breath. "He's doing it," he whispered to himself, voice drenched in worry and pride. "Lee, you must be careful."

Kakashi's single eye narrowed. "Guy… you didn't. You wouldn't have taught him to go beyond the first gate, did you?"

Guy remained silent. He remembered well the promises and hardships Lee had endured. He had told Kakashi earlier that Lee could open more than one gate. Kakashi tensed. If one gate was dangerous, opening more could cripple Lee permanently. The audience, unaware of the full implications, just marveled at the swirling chakra around Lee.

Down below, Lee grimaced and hissed through clenched teeth, "First gate, Gate of Opening—open!" A sudden surge of energy made the floor crack beneath his feet. He vanished and struck Gaara from an impossible angle, forcing him back a few steps. Gaara's eyes widened fractionally.

Not stopping, Lee continued, "Second gate, Gate of Healing—open!" Another wave of power exploded outward, and Lee's strikes grew even faster, so swift that Gaara's sand lagged behind momentarily. Fragments of armor chipped away, leaving Gaara's real flesh closer to exposure.

The spectators recoiled at the force. Some covered their faces with forearms to shield against the gusts of wind whipped up by Lee's movements.

Gaara's eyes narrowed in frustration. He tried to retaliate by sending a tsunami of sand towards Lee. Yet Lee ducked, weaved, twisted through the deluge like a leaf in a hurricane, never losing momentum. His taijutsu style, honed through blood and sweat, gave him uncanny agility.

"Third gate, Gate of Life—open!" Lee roared, voice cracking with strain. Green energy cascaded from him. His skin flushed red with blood flow, muscles empowered beyond normal human capacity. He attacked Gaara with a furious combination of strikes that sounded like thunderclaps in the enclosed space. The sand armor cracked further. A harsh gasp escaped Gaara's lips as he felt some blows resonating through to his actual body. He tried to control his sand more intricately, shaping spikes and tendrils to capture Lee, but the boy was too swift.

Neji watched, stunned silent at the transformation of a boy he once considered inferior. The audience realized the true price Lee paid for such speed and strength: unimaginable pain. Still, Lee fought on, unwavering.

At this point, Guy's face was drawn tight. He knew Lee was risking permanent damage. Still, Lee pressed onward. He had promised himself he would prove his worth. He had told himself a thousand times during midnight trainings and dawn sparring sessions that he would surpass expectations. Now, in front of everyone, he would demonstrate the results of that vow.

Gaara, for the first time, felt something he rarely experienced—pressure. He increased his efforts to ensnare Lee with sand. A giant hand made of grains reached out, trying to crush Lee mid-motion. Lee barely evaded it, boots skidding on the stone floor as he retreated just outside Gaara's range, panting heavily.

At that moment, Lee's eyes flicked upwards, meeting Guy's. The older man nodded once, solemnly. He was giving silent permission for the boy to use the ultimate card he had, the move that would either secure victory or destroy him.

Kakashi sensed it coming and whispered urgently, "Guy, stop him!" But Guy remained still, trust and regret warring in his soul. He believed in Lee's dream more than anything. He remembered a younger version of himself and the lessons his father taught him, and now he would trust Lee to know his own limits.

Lee closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself. "Fourth gate, Gate of Pain—open!" The words echoed like a death sentence. His chakra skyrocketed again, making even senior ninja flinch. It felt like standing too close to a roaring bonfire. He vanished from sight in a blur of green and red.

Down below, Gaara's eyes widened. He raised his sand shield once more, but Lee was everywhere at once, attacking from angles impossible to track. The shield strained, cracking under the barrage of monstrous blows. Finally, Lee executed a high-speed assault that kicked Gaara into the air. The spectators held their breath.

With Gaara airborne, Lee performed a move that seemed to defy logic. He darted upward as if gravity were a mere suggestion. He wrapped his bandages around Gaara, preventing him from escaping, and began a mid-air spin that accelerated with terrifying speed.

"Primary Lotus!" Lee yelled, his voice raw. The technique slammed Gaara into the stone floor with unimaginable force. Dust and shattered rock exploded outward in a cloud that temporarily concealed them both.

Up in the stands, Naruto gripped the railing hard, heart hammering. That impact—could anything survive that?

As the dust cleared, Lee stood over a crumpled form. But something was off. Gaara's body began to crumble. It was a hollow shell of sand. Stunned gasps rose from the gallery. Gaara had used a sand clone at the last possible moment. The real Gaara rose from the ground nearby, unscathed aside from minor cracks in his armor. He looked furious. If Lee had hoped the Lotus would end the fight, he was mistaken.

Lee's chest heaved. He'd used so much strength, opened so many gates. His muscles, already taxed beyond measure, began to spasm. The pain from the Gate of Pain's release was aptly named—it wracked his body. Yet he refused to buckle. Even now, faced with Gaara's intact defense, he refused to surrender.

Gaara didn't hesitate this time. He attacked with a wave of sand that clamped onto Lee's left arm and right leg. The audience watched in horror as Gaara twisted, intending to crush bones and flesh. Blood spattered the floor. The savage act shocked even the most hardened observers.

Lee tried to move, to dodge. His body no longer responded properly, nerves and muscles torn by the strain of his advanced techniques. He was utterly helpless. Naruto clenched his teeth. This was wrong. Gaara could end the match by incapacitating Lee harmlessly, but he chose cruelty instead.

In the stands, Kakashi tensed, considering intervention, but Guy acted first. With a burst of speed, he appeared in the arena, placing himself between Gaara and Lee. "Enough," Guy said, voice low and authoritative. Gaara's eyes flickered with irritation, but he didn't push further. Perhaps he realized the Jonin's intent. Perhaps he sensed that if he tried, he might face consequences not even he could withstand.

Gaara's voice dripped with disdain as he said quietly, "Why do you protect him? He's lost." Guy stood firm, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. "I protect him because he is precious to me," he stated simply, voice thick with emotion. The sincerity in Guy's words was palpable.

Something in Gaara wavered. He hissed softly, clutching his head as if battling an invisible torment. Then, without another word, Gaara turned and limped away, heading back towards his siblings. The match ended with Hayate's shaky declaration, "V-victor: Gaara of the Sand… cough."

Medics rushed in to tend to Lee, but the moment they approached, they found him trying to stand. Unconscious, half-broken, Lee still attempted to push himself upright, as if his spirit refused to yield to reality. The medics murmured about catastrophic damage to his arm and leg, warning that he may never regain full use of them. The crowd fell silent again, stunned by Lee's unwavering willpower. Tears streamed down Guy's face as he knelt beside Lee, whispering apologies and words of pride and love.

Naruto stared down at the scene, fists clenched at his sides. He felt anger at Gaara's cruelty, admiration for Lee's resilience, and sadness at the price Lee had paid. He recalled Kakashi's explanation about the eight inner gates, about what Lee's technique entailed. It all made sense now—Lee had gambled everything for a chance at victory, a chance to prove himself. And though he had lost, in many ways he had proven something greater: the indomitable human spirit.

Ino and Shikamaru, silent behind Naruto, shared a look. Nothing more needed to be said. In that moment, everyone present realized that these exams weren't just a formality. They were a crucible, forging shinobi at the cost of blood, sweat, and sometimes the future itself. Lee's injuries were a sobering reminder that not all dreams survived the path of a ninja.

Guy's sobs were audible now. He bore the guilt of teaching Lee a technique that risked so much. Yet he also held a fierce pride. He cradled the boy's unconscious form and whispered, "I'm sorry, Lee. I… I never wanted this. I never wanted to see you hurt like this." The medics reassured him they would do all they could, but their faces were grim.

Up above, the atmosphere had changed. Fewer whispers, fewer jesting comments. The genin and even some of the older spectators understood that a silent line had been crossed. Lee's valiant stand, Gaara's pitiless might—these were lessons in the harsh reality of the shinobi world.

Kakashi, after a long silence, spoke quietly to Naruto: "Remember what you saw here today. Strength can come from many sources: bloodlines, training, or the determination to shatter your limits. But that strength doesn't always guarantee victory, nor safety. Be cautious, be prepared."

Naruto nodded, absorbing every word. He thought about how much Lee had risked. He thought about Gaara's inhuman power and the vile intent that lurked beneath that calm face. He thought about the countless hours Lee must have trained to gain even a fraction of that speed and strength, only to fall short in the end. Yet, Naruto admired him more than words could say. Lee might never fight as a ninja again if the medics' fears proved true. That was a tragedy Naruto would carry with him.

Down below, Guy gently lifted Lee onto a stretcher. "You did so well, Lee," he said, voice trembling. "You… you showed everyone the power of your youth. I'm proud of you, so proud. No matter what happens from here, I will never forget this." The raw emotion in Guy's voice touched even the hardest hearts. He followed the medics as they carried Lee away, head bowed, footsteps heavy.

Hayate coughed again, trying to reassert order. "We must continue," he said, voice subdued. Even he seemed affected by the outcome. One fighter crippled, another revealed as a near-invincible monster—these were the stakes of the Chunin Exams.

---

After the spectacular showdown that had mesmerized everyone—particularly Rock Lee's valiant, if tragic, display—the preliminaries had almost concluded. There was one last match left: Choji Akimichi versus Dosu Kinuta. The atmosphere felt oddly subdued after the earlier high-stakes battles.

Choji stood at the edge of the balcony, muttering under his breath, "Man, how am I supposed to follow something like that?" He glanced downward nervously. "Lee practically stole the show. Now it's just me and Dosu. That guy's gauntlet is dangerous. I've run into him before, and it didn't end well."

From the sidelines, Ino leaned over and whispered, "Choji, don't worry too much. Just do your best!"

Shikamaru, arms folded, spoke up lazily, "Troublesome… but at least give it a shot, Choji. Win or lose, these prelims have been crazy. No one expects you to top Lee's performance."

Naruto crossed his arms, watching Dosu jump into the arena. "That Dosu guy… he's calm and strategic. Choji's going to need something special to get past that sound-based attack."

Kakashi, who had just returned from an errand, gave a light shrug. "Don't count Choji out entirely," he said, though without much optimism in his tone. He was also distracted, carrying a small slip of paper—the injured kunoichi's assigned lot. Since she was in recovery from the curse mark sealing, Kakashi had volunteered to pick in her place. He waited patiently for this last match to finish so they could finalize the lineup.

The match began, and it ended even more quickly than anticipated. Dosu's sound-based technique proved overwhelming. Choji tried a partial expansion to shield himself, but Dosu's gauntlet disrupted his chakra and balance, sending him tumbling. Within moments, Dosu had the Akimichi heir grounded and forced him to surrender.

Choji trudged back up, shoulders slumped. Ino tried to cheer him up, "You made it this far, Choji, that's something!" Shikamaru gave a sympathetic grunt, "At least it's over."

Now all the participants who would advance were decided. A hush fell as Anko stepped forward, a stack of numbered slips in hand. "Alright, everyone, line up! We'll draw lots to determine the final match-ups for the tournament."

Nine participants remained: Shino Aburame, Kankuro of the Sand, Temari of the Sand, Shikamaru Nara, Naruto Uzumaki, Neji Hyuga, Gaara of the Sand, Dosu Kinuta, and the absent Konoha kunoichi who was currently in the infirmary after having a curse mark sealed. Since she couldn't attend the drawing, Kakashi stepped forward to draw on her behalf.

Anko eyed Kakashi. "You're sure you want to do this, Kakashi-sensei?"

Kakashi nodded. "She can't be here, so I'll draw for her. I have no personal stake in her match—just ensuring fairness."

Neji glanced sideways at Naruto, mild curiosity on his face. Gaara stood with arms crossed, aloof and uninterested in the chatter. Shino and Kankuro exchanged quiet glances. Temari tapped her fan impatiently, while Shikamaru tried not to groan aloud, dreading whatever troublesome match-up he'd get.

Anko grinned mischievously. "Alright, one by one. Neji Hyuga, pick first."

Neji drew a slip, showing it to Anko. She recorded it without comment. Naruto went next, followed by Shino, Kankuro, Temari, Shikamaru, Gaara, Dosu, and finally Kakashi for the absent kunoichi.

After a few moments of tense silence, Anko cleared her throat and announced the matches:

"First match: Neji Hyuga versus Naruto Uzumaki." Naruto's eyes lit up. He and Neji locked gazes, the Hyuga's face impassive, Naruto's grin challenging.

"Second match: Shino Aburame versus Kankuro of the Sand." Shino adjusted his glasses. Kankuro smirked, tapping the puppet on his back as if itching for action.

"Third match: Shikamaru Nara versus Temari of the Sand." Temari smiled coyly, fan half-open. Shikamaru rolled his eyes, "Great, a troublesome opponent."

"Fourth match…" Anko paused. "The absent Konoha kunoichi in recovery will face Gaara of the Sand." She gestured to Kakashi, "Your draw placed her there."

Gaara's eyes narrowed slightly, as if mentally appraising this unknown competitor. Kakashi nodded, face neutral. The final note: "Since that makes an odd number, Dosu Kinuta will receive a special condition. He'll be matched against a randomly selected winner from the first round before the second rounds begin."

The lineup produced a stir of mixed reactions. Naruto perked up at his placement. "Neji first, huh?" He clenched his fist, knuckles white. "I wanted a challenge, and I got one."

Neji met his bravado calmly. "Your confidence is misplaced, Uzumaki," he said, voice quiet. "You stand no chance against fate."

Naruto grinned fiercely, "We'll see about that, Hyuga."

Dosu leaned against a pillar, silent and composed, seemingly uninterested in these exchanges. He seemed content to wait and pick off whoever fell into his path. Shino remained characteristically silent, though he nodded slightly as if acknowledging Kankuro's puppet tactics would test his insects. Kankuro grunted in response, each recognizing that their skill sets would create a complex battle of strategy.

Temari idly drummed her fingers on her closed fan, her gaze on Shikamaru. "Hope you won't bore me," she teased.

Shikamaru sighed heavily, "Yeah, yeah… guess I'd better try not to die of boredom myself." Despite his complaints, a spark of curiosity danced in his eyes. The Sand siblings were formidable; he'd need every shred of cunning he possessed.

Naruto's mind, however, spun with anticipation for future matches. With the injured kunoichi's slot determined, he knew if he wanted to face her in the finals, he'd have to win every single round. Of course, he never said it out loud—he no longer needed to mention her name or situation. Just knowing her place in the bracket was enough. If she recovered fully, they'd meet down the line. That thought alone set his heart racing. He glanced at Kakashi, who had tucked the drawing slips away.

The Hokage stepped forward, leaning on his staff, smiling with that grandfatherly calm. "You have all done well to reach this stage," the old leader said. "We have one month until the finals. This time is given so that dignitaries and feudal lords may travel to witness your prowess, and so you may rest and prepare. Train hard, hone your skills, and be ready to show the world what the shinobi of our villages are capable of."

Kankuro whispered to Temari, "A month, huh? Plenty of time for us to tweak our strategies."

Temari nodded, "Exactly. These Leaf ninja won't know what hit them."

Gaara said nothing, arms still folded, but the tension he radiated was unmistakable. The finals would be a stage for him to demonstrate something dark and terrifying. Naruto caught Gaara's eye and felt a chill. That guy was beyond dangerous, as proven by the brutal matches he had witnessed. The absent kunoichi faced Gaara—Naruto silently hoped she'd find a way to handle him. Kakashi, who represented her interests in her absence, had a pensive look, probably pondering how to best help her recover and prepare.

Neji observed Naruto with a mild smirk, "A month won't save you, Uzumaki. Genius will always triumph over hard work."

Naruto barked a laugh, "I've heard that before. Let's see how you feel after you taste some of my moves. I'm not the same guy you think I am."

Neji's voice emerged low and cool: "I suppose even destiny finds it amusing to see the lowest of the low face the mightiest of the Hyuga."

Naruto's eyes narrowed. "That so?" he replied evenly. "If fate's got jokes, I can't wait to see your face when I break that fancy illusion of yours. You talk a big game, Neji, but you've got no clue what I'm capable of."

A faint chuckle escaped Neji's throat. "Your capabilities?" His tone dripped with disdain. "Don't pretend you're some hidden gem. Everyone knows what you are—just another loudmouth who lucked into the finals."

From across the hall, Guy frowned. He recalled how Neji's bitterness had flared when fighting Hinata. This was a darker, more personal malice. Kurenai pursed her lips, remembering Hinata's tears and Naruto's anger. She suspected Naruto wouldn't let Neji's cruelty go unchallenged, but this level of open hostility was concerning.

"Naruto's no fluke," Kakashi interjected calmly, though a hint of tension underlined his words. "He wouldn't be here if he couldn't hold his own."

Neji waved off Kakashi's remark as if swatting a buzzing insect. "You're an instructor, Hatake. It's natural you'd defend your student. But no amount of your praise can rewrite reality."

Naruto gave a short, mocking laugh. "Reality, huh? Reality's going to hit you harder than any lecture. Keep throwing that fate nonsense around and see what happens in the finals. I'm going to make you eat every smug word."

Neji's smirk widened. He took a step closer. "Big talk for the shoe shiner," he said softly, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

The room fell into stunned silence. A puzzled ripple passed through the genin and Jonin alike. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Shino blinked behind his glasses, calculating the meaning. Kiba's eyes darted between Naruto and Neji, mystified. Gaara's expression remained inscrutable. Kankuro and Temari exchanged a glance—what did "shoe shiner" have to do with anything?

Kakashi's visible eye narrowed. Shoe shiner?

Naruto's reaction was immediate and telling. His confident posture stiffened, his pupils dilated. A bead of sweat formed at his temple, sliding down his cheek. The color drained from his face. He swallowed, throat dry. "W-what did you say?" he managed to force out.

Neji's satisfaction was palpable. "I said 'shoe shiner,' Uzumaki. Or should I say, 'Spitshine Naruto'? Or maybe I should call you Hiro?" He drew out that last word with relish.

A murmur of confusion swelled in the hall. Hiro? Who was Hiro? And why did Naruto look so rattled?

Naruto felt his heart pounding in his ears. Memories crashed through him in disorienting waves—flashbacks he'd tried to bury deep:

Flashback to Age Ten:
It was dusk in a dingy alley on Konoha's east side. A younger Naruto, clothes worn and faded, counted a few coins in his trembling hand. He was short on funds again. The monthly stipend from the Hokage had dwindled after an increase in living expenses. Rumors and ostracism made odd jobs scarce. He remembered Danzo's words earlier that day:

Flashback within flashback (Danzo's words) Danzo's voice, stern and unyielding: "You claim to be a shinobi-in-training, and yet you complain about finances? Adapt, Uzumaki. Find your own way. Survive on your own terms. This is part of your training—no extra funds from Root. Use whatever means you have, but do not draw unwanted attention to yourself. A shinobi must endure hardships silently."

Naruto had nodded, teeth clenched, feeling shame and anger boil in his gut. He resolved to find a way. Late that evening, alone, he'd decided on shoe shining. Simple, honest, if demeaning. He'd set up a crate, a small sign, and waited. But no one came. Days turned into weeks. The villagers, disgusted or fearful of him, never let him near their shoes. Despair gripped him until a thought struck: Henge no Jutsu—he could disguise himself! He became "Hiro," a harmless boy with a friendly smile and skillful hands.

Another flashback:
As Hiro, he polished footwear with unbelievable finesse. Word spread quietly in certain corners of the village. Soon, he had regular customers—Chunin patrolling at night, tired merchants grateful for gleaming shoes. He earned coin after coin. Over four years, this side business flourished secretly. He saved enough not only to improve his own apartment but to purchase, via a third-party Root channel, a run-down building next door. It was easy to hide behind proxies, and soon he had tenants paying rent. The idea that these people lived unknowingly under the roof of the "Kyuubi brat" amused him in darker moments, and relieved him at others, because now he wasn't helpless anymore. It was the same money he had handed to those kids in Wave empathising with their plight having experienced it himself.

And through all this, he never told a soul. It was his quiet triumph—and a private shame. Shinobi shouldn't be reduced to buffing boots at least not of those they despised. He intended to let that memory die quietly after he became a genin.

End of flashbacks

But now, Neji knew. How?

Neji's voice intruded, pulling him back to the present. "Surprised? Wondering how I know?" he asked, feigning a mild curiosity. "I often train in the forest late at night. One evening, I saw a figure—Hiro, the famed shoe shiner, they called him. I followed him, curious. Imagine my surprise to see him slip behind some bushes and with a quick Henge, reveal himself as you, Uzumaki."

A chorus of gasps flitted through the hall. Shikamaru's jaw dropped slightly, Ino muttered, "No way… Naruto was… a shoe shiner?" Kiba blinked in disbelief. Gaara's expression did not change, yet the tilt of his head suggested a flicker of intrigue. Temari frowned, perplexed, and Kankuro whistled low.

Asuma and Kurenai exchanged a look of concerned surprise. Guy's eyebrows shot upward, uncertain how to process this unexpected revelation. Kakashi's grip on the railing tightened subtly. He said nothing yet, but a dozen questions danced in his mind.

Neji's smirk deepened. "So much for the proud Uzumaki. A secret entrepreneur in transformations, shining shoes for coins. Such a lowly craft—ironic for one boasting big dreams."

Naruto's fists clenched at his sides. He glared at Neji, voice tight, "Shut it." His cheeks burned with humiliation and fury. He dared not look at Kakashi. The silence from his sensei cut him worse than any word. What must Kakashi think of him now?

Neji pressed on, relishing the effect. "What's wrong, Spitshine Naruto? No clever comebacks? Did I shake your precious confidence?"

Hinata's name flickered in Naruto's head. He remembered Neji's cruelty to her. This wasn't just about him now. "You're a piece of work, Neji," he said quietly, voice trembling with barely contained anger. "I don't care what I had to do to survive. I adapted. I made my own way. Isn't that what a shinobi should do?"

Neji shrugged, unimpressed. "Survival at the cost of dignity? If that's your standard, by all means. Keep polishing boots. The finals won't show mercy on a man who got by shining sandals."

Kiba, recovering from his initial shock, tried to insert a snicker. "Wow, Naruto, guess you found your calling, huh?" But even Kiba sounded uneasy, as if he realized how personal and cruel this taunt was.

Shikamaru cleared his throat, "Seriously, Neji, that's low. And kind of irrelevant. What he did to survive… who cares?" He found this conflict too troublesome, but letting Neji go unchecked felt wrong.

Shino adjusted his glasses, "If Naruto managed to keep this secret for so long, it shows cunning. I doubt it makes him any weaker." The logic and neutrality in Shino's tone offered Naruto a lifeline.

Naruto shot a grateful glance at Shino. "Thanks," he muttered, then turned back to Neji. "Your attempt to humiliate me doesn't change the fact that I'm standing right here. I'm in the finals, same as you. Your fate, your destiny, let's see it in the arena."

Neji raised an eyebrow. "So you'll face me regardless? Even now that you know I see through your bravado and secrets?"

Naruto drew in a slow breath, calming the pounding in his chest. "Yeah, I will. You think calling me a shoe shiner or spitshine boy breaks me? I got news for you—I've been through worse. Much worse." A flash of memory: hostile glances from villagers, hunger pains, Itachi's complete 180, Danzo's curt dismissal. He'd endured it all.

Neji's smirk faltered momentarily. He hadn't expected Naruto to recover so quickly. "Hmph. Let's see how well you handle a Byakugan user who's not only stronger but now knows exactly how to make you lose focus. You'll crack under pressure. Just like Hinata did."

Naruto's eyes flared with renewed intensity. "Don't you dare mention Hinata's name after what you did. You think I'm letting that go? You hurt her, belittled her, all for what—your so-called fate? I won't let that stand. I'll make sure you pay for every time you made her doubt herself."

Kakashi quietly stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Naruto's shoulder, as if to say he was there, supporting him. "Naruto," Kakashi said softly. "Don't waste all your anger here. Remember you have a month. Use it wisely."

Guy, arms folded, regarded Neji with disapproval. "Neji, your words are venomous. Is this how you think strength is proven? By mocking a comrade's hardship? Lee taught us that a true ninja's worth is found in perseverance, not cheap shots."

Neji gave Guy a sharp look but said nothing. The mention of Lee stung—Lee's incredible effort, even in defeat, was a stark contrast to this petty humiliating tactic.

In the background, Kurenai and Asuma looked uneasy. They didn't know Naruto that well but seeing this secret laid bare in front of everyone made them uncomfortable. Asuma, lighting a cigarette, inhaled and slowly exhaled. "A kid who adapted to survive in a harsh environment. If anything, that's commendable."

Kurenai nodded lightly. "Agreed. This reveals Naruto's resourcefulness, not a weakness. Neji's attempt at humiliation might just strengthen Naruto's resolve."

Kakashi's visible eye curved in a faint smile behind the mask. Naruto caught that subtle sign and found encouragement in it. He hadn't lost his sensei's respect. Good.

Gaara's presence lingered at the edges, silent. If anyone glanced his way, he appeared distant, yet focused. Perhaps he was analyzing how personal grudges and revelations could affect mental states. Temari frowned, arms folded, somewhat sympathetic to Naruto after seeing such a personal jab from Neji. Kankuro just scratched his cheek, uneasy at the tension.

Neji took the responses in stride. If anything, the lack of unanimous scorn against Naruto seemed to irritate him. "So you all coddle him. Fine," Neji said flatly. "Coddle him now, because in the finals, no amount of support will spare him the reality of his limitations."

Naruto let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I don't need coddling," he said quietly. "I got here on my own terms. You think you can use my past to rattle me? Go ahead. I'm done hiding who I am. If being a shoe shiner in disguise kept me fed and let me invest in something better, that's my victory over this village's cruelty. Not my shame."

There it was. Naruto hadn't intended to reveal that pride, but he did so now. He'd turned Neji's insult into a badge of resilience.

Neji scowled, crossing his arms. "We'll see if that resilience holds when I'm closing off your tenketsu."

Naruto's eyes hardened into chips of sapphire steel. "Try it. I've got ways around your gentle fist."

Neji snorted. "Empty words."

Naruto took a step closer, fearless now. "Not empty. This is a promise. I'm going to beat you, Neji, and I'm going to show you and everyone else that fate doesn't decide a damn thing. You humiliated Hinata, you tried to humiliate me—fine. Keep talking. At the end of the final match, we'll see who's humiliated."

Neji's pale eyes narrowed dangerously. "Your bravado will cost you dearly."

Naruto's lips twitched into a tight grin. "Bring it on."

The genin spectators looked on with a mixture of unease and excitement. Shikamaru scratched the back of his head, mumbling, "Man, this is going to get complicated." Ino folded her arms, impressed by Naruto's spirit. Kiba hovered in the back, feeling awkward—Naruto had crushed him, and now he discovered Naruto had been secretly more cunning than he'd ever guessed.

Shino remained silent, but he approved of Naruto's stance. The ability to adapt was the mark of a strong ninja. Temari pursed her lips thoughtfully. Gaara didn't move, but his silence seemed to acknowledge that Naruto's spirit wouldn't be easily broken.

Dosu's masked face revealed nothing, but internally he might have been measuring these two loud contenders, wondering which would make a more interesting opponent down the line.

From above, Guy cleared his throat. "Alright, that's enough. The finals are a month away. Let's disperse and focus on training. I'm sure we've all seen enough drama for one day."

Asuma nodded, gesturing for some of his charges to follow him out. Kurenai tapped Hinata's name from a distance—she was already in the infirmary, safe from this confrontation. The fate of these genin would rest on their training and willpower, not petty taunts.

Kakashi tapped Naruto's shoulder gently, a silent sign of pride. Naruto breathed out slowly and nodded. He felt lighter, relieved that even with his secret exposed, he'd stood his ground. He wouldn't let Neji's insults or his own past overshadow his determination. He wouldn't let Neji's treatment of Hinata go unanswered either.

The hall slowly cleared as groups filed out. Neji was one of the last to leave, shooting Naruto one final, unreadable look. Naruto met that gaze evenly, not flinching this time. If Neji expected shame or retreat, he'd find none.

When only a few lingered, Naruto relaxed his clenched fists. He remembered the flashbacks again—those evenings as Hiro, shining boots until his fingers ached. The transformation back to himself in the forest under a moonlit canopy, and how he'd vowed that one day he wouldn't need such deception just to live decently. Now, as a finalist in the chunin exams, he saw how far he'd come. He was no longer that desperate child. He was a ninja among ninjas, ready to forge his own destiny.

Neji's revelation might have rattled him momentarily, but it also pushed him to confirm his resolve. He grinned to himself. This month would be the hardest training of his life. He'd grow, surpass his limits, and show Neji—and everyone else—that a so-called "shoe shiner" could rise above any station.

He could imagine the stunned faces of his tenants if they ever found out who their landlord was. Maybe one day he'd tell them. Not now. For now, he'd focus on the finals and on knocking Neji off his high horse.

With that thought, Naruto turned and followed Kakashi out, shoulders set, heart calm. He wouldn't let this slide. He wouldn't let Neji's cruelty to Hinata or this humiliating reveal go unanswered. The finals would be his stage to prove that fate was just another enemy to be defeated.

Neji's voice emerged low and cool: "I suppose even destiny finds it amusing to see the lowest of the low face the mightiest of the Hyuga."

Naruto's eyes narrowed. "That so?" he replied evenly. "If fate's got jokes, I can't wait to see your face when I break that fancy illusion of yours. You talk a big game, Neji, but you've got no clue what I'm capable of."

A faint chuckle escaped Neji's throat. "Your capabilities?" His tone dripped with disdain. "Don't pretend you're some hidden gem. Everyone knows what you are—just another loudmouth who lucked into the finals."

From across the hall, Guy frowned. He recalled how Neji's bitterness had flared when fighting Hinata. This was a darker, more personal malice. Kurenai pursed her lips, remembering Hinata's tears and Naruto's anger. She suspected Naruto wouldn't let Neji's cruelty go unchallenged, but this level of open hostility was concerning.

"Naruto's no fluke," Kakashi interjected calmly, though a hint of tension underlined his words. "He wouldn't be here if he couldn't hold his own."

Neji waved off Kakashi's remark as if swatting a buzzing insect. "You're an instructor, Hatake. It's natural you'd defend your student. But no amount of your praise can rewrite reality."

Naruto gave a short, mocking laugh. "Reality, huh? Reality's going to hit you harder than any lecture. Keep throwing that fate nonsense around and see what happens in the finals. I'm going to make you eat every smug word."

Neji's smirk widened. He took a step closer. "Big talk for the shoe shiner," he said softly, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

The room fell into stunned silence. A puzzled ripple passed through the genin and Jonin alike. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Shino blinked behind his glasses, calculating the meaning. Kiba's eyes darted between Naruto and Neji, mystified. Gaara's expression remained inscrutable. Kankuro and Temari exchanged a glance—what did "shoe shiner" have to do with anything?

Kakashi's visible eye narrowed. Shoe shiner?

Naruto's reaction was immediate and telling. His confident posture stiffened, his pupils dilated. A bead of sweat formed at his temple, sliding down his cheek. The color drained from his face. He swallowed, throat dry. "W-what did you say?" he managed to force out.

Neji's satisfaction was palpable. "I said 'shoe shiner,' Uzumaki. Or should I say, 'Spitshine Naruto'? Or maybe I should call you Hiro?" He drew out that last word with relish.

A murmur of confusion swelled in the hall. Hiro? Who was Hiro? And why did Naruto look so rattled?

Naruto felt his heart pounding in his ears. Memories crashed through him in disorienting waves—flashbacks he'd tried to bury deep:

Flashback to Age Ten:
It was dusk in a dingy alley on Konoha's east side. A younger Naruto, clothes worn and faded, counted a few coins in his trembling hand. He was short on funds again. The monthly stipend from the Hokage had dwindled after an increase in living expenses. Rumors and ostracism made odd jobs scarce. He remembered Danzo's words earlier that day:

Flashback within flashback (Danzo's words) Danzo's voice, stern and unyielding: "You claim to be a shinobi-in-training, and yet you complain about finances? Adapt, Uzumaki. Find your own way. Survive on your own terms. This is part of your training—no extra funds from Root. Use whatever means you have, but do not draw unwanted attention to yourself. A shinobi must endure hardships silently."

Naruto had nodded, teeth clenched, feeling shame and anger boil in his gut. He resolved to find a way. Late that evening, alone, he'd decided on shoe shining. Simple, honest, if demeaning. He'd set up a crate, a small sign, and waited. But no one came. Days turned into weeks. The villagers, disgusted or fearful of him, never let him near their shoes. Despair gripped him until a thought struck: Henge no Jutsu—he could disguise himself! He became "Hiro," a harmless boy with a friendly smile and skillful hands.

Another flashback:
As Hiro, he polished footwear with unbelievable finesse. Word spread quietly in certain corners of the village. Soon, he had regular customers—Chunin patrolling at night, tired merchants grateful for gleaming shoes. He earned coin after coin. Over four years, this side business flourished secretly. He saved enough not only to improve his own apartment but to purchase, via a third-party Root channel, a run-down building next door. It was easy to hide behind proxies, and soon he had tenants paying rent. The idea that these people lived unknowingly under the roof of the "Kyuubi brat" amused him in darker moments, and relieved him at others, because now he wasn't helpless anymore.

And through all this, he never told a soul. It was his quiet triumph—and a private shame. Shinobi shouldn't be reduced to buffing boots. He intended to let that memory die quietly after he became a genin.

End of flashbacks

But now, Neji knew. How?

Neji's voice intruded, pulling him back to the present. "Surprised? Wondering how I know?" he asked, feigning a mild curiosity. "I often train in the forest late at night. One evening, I saw a figure—Hiro, the famed shoe shiner, they called him. I followed him, curious. Imagine my surprise to see him slip behind some bushes and with a quick Henge, reveal himself as you, Uzumaki."

A chorus of gasps flitted through the hall. Shikamaru's jaw dropped slightly, Ino muttered, "No way… Naruto was… a shoe shiner?" Kiba blinked in disbelief. Gaara's expression did not change, yet the tilt of his head suggested a flicker of intrigue. Temari frowned, perplexed, and Kankuro whistled low.

Asuma and Kurenai exchanged a look of concerned surprise. Guy's eyebrows shot upward, uncertain how to process this unexpected revelation. Kakashi's grip on the railing tightened subtly. He said nothing yet, but a dozen questions danced in his mind.

Neji's smirk deepened. "So much for the proud Uzumaki. A secret entrepreneur in transformations, shining shoes for coins. Such a lowly craft—ironic for one boasting big dreams."

Naruto's fists clenched at his sides. He glared at Neji, voice tight, "Shut it." His cheeks burned with humiliation and fury. He dared not look at Kakashi. The silence from his sensei cut him worse than any word. What must Kakashi think of him now?

Neji pressed on, relishing the effect. "What's wrong, Spitshine Naruto? No clever comebacks? Did I shake your precious confidence?"

Hinata's name flickered in Naruto's head. He remembered Neji's cruelty to her. This wasn't just about him now. "You're a piece of work, Neji," he said quietly, voice trembling with barely contained anger. "I don't care what I had to do to survive. I adapted. I made my own way. Isn't that what a shinobi should do?"

Neji shrugged, unimpressed. "Survival at the cost of dignity? If that's your standard, by all means. Keep polishing boots. The finals won't show mercy on a man who got by shining sandals."

Kiba, recovering from his initial shock, tried to insert a snicker. "Wow, Naruto, guess you found your calling, huh?" But even Kiba sounded uneasy, as if he realized how personal and cruel this taunt was.

Shikamaru cleared his throat, "Seriously, Neji, that's low. And kind of irrelevant. What he did to survive… who cares?" He found this conflict too troublesome, but letting Neji go unchecked felt wrong.

Shino adjusted his glasses, "If Naruto managed to keep this secret for so long, it shows cunning. I doubt it makes him any weaker." The logic and neutrality in Shino's tone offered Naruto a lifeline.

Naruto shot a grateful glance at Shino. "Thanks," he muttered, then turned back to Neji. "Your attempt to humiliate me doesn't change the fact that I'm standing right here. I'm in the finals, same as you. Your fate, your destiny, let's see it in the arena."

Neji raised an eyebrow. "So you'll face me regardless? Even now that you know I see through your bravado and secrets?"

Naruto drew in a slow breath, calming the pounding in his chest. "Yeah, I will. You think calling me a shoe shiner or spitshine boy breaks me? I got news for you—I've been through worse. Much worse." A flash of memory: hostile glances from villagers, hunger pains, Danzo's curt dismissal. He'd endured it all.

Neji's smirk faltered momentarily. He hadn't expected Naruto to recover so quickly. "Hmph. Let's see how well you handle a Byakugan user who's not only stronger but now knows exactly how to make you lose focus. You'll crack under pressure. Just like Hinata did."

Naruto's eyes flared with renewed intensity. "Don't you dare mention Hinata's name after what you did. You think I'm letting that go? You hurt her, belittled her, all for what—your so-called fate? I won't let that stand. I'll make sure you pay for every time you made her doubt herself."

Kakashi quietly stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Naruto's shoulder, as if to say he was there, supporting him. "Naruto," Kakashi said softly. "Don't waste all your anger here. Remember you have a month. Use it wisely."

Guy, arms folded, regarded Neji with disapproval. "Neji, your words are venomous. Is this how you think strength is proven? By mocking a comrade's hardship? Lee taught us that a true ninja's worth is found in perseverance, not cheap shots."

Neji gave Guy a sharp look but said nothing. The mention of Lee stung—Lee's incredible effort, even in defeat, was a stark contrast to this petty humiliating tactic.

In the background, Kurenai and Asuma looked uneasy. They didn't know Naruto that well but seeing this secret laid bare in front of everyone made them uncomfortable. Asuma, lighting a cigarette, inhaled and slowly exhaled. "A kid who adapted to survive in a harsh environment. If anything, that's commendable."

Kurenai nodded lightly. "Agreed. This reveals Naruto's resourcefulness, not a weakness. Neji's attempt at humiliation might just strengthen Naruto's resolve."

Kakashi's visible eye curved in a faint smile behind the mask. Naruto caught that subtle sign and found encouragement in it. He hadn't lost his sensei's respect. Good.

Gaara's presence lingered at the edges, silent. If anyone glanced his way, he appeared distant, yet focused. Perhaps he was analyzing how personal grudges and revelations could affect mental states. Temari frowned, arms folded, somewhat sympathetic to Naruto after seeing such a personal jab from Neji. Kankuro just scratched his cheek, uneasy at the tension.

Neji took the responses in stride. If anything, the lack of unanimous scorn against Naruto seemed to irritate him. "So you all coddle him. Fine," Neji said flatly. "Coddle him now, because in the finals, no amount of support will spare him the reality of his limitations."

Naruto let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I don't need coddling," he said quietly. "I got here on my own terms. You think you can use my past to rattle me? Go ahead. I'm done hiding who I am. If being a shoe shiner in disguise kept me fed and let me invest in something better, that's my victory over this village's cruelty. Not my shame."

There it was. Naruto hadn't intended to reveal that pride, but he did so now. He'd turned Neji's insult into a badge of resilience.

Neji scowled, crossing his arms. "We'll see if that resilience holds when I'm closing off your tenketsu."

Naruto's eyes hardened into chips of sapphire steel. "Try it. I've got ways around your gentle fist."

Neji snorted. "Empty words."

Naruto took a step closer, fearless now. "Not empty. This is a promise. I'm going to beat you, Neji, and I'm going to show you and everyone else that fate doesn't decide a damn thing. You humiliated Hinata, you tried to humiliate me—fine. Keep talking. At the end of the final match, we'll see who's humiliated."

Neji's pale eyes narrowed dangerously. "Your bravado will cost you dearly."

Naruto's lips twitched into a tight grin. "Bring it on."

The genin spectators looked on with a mixture of unease and excitement. Shikamaru scratched the back of his head, mumbling, "Man, this is going to get complicated." Ino folded her arms, impressed by Naruto's spirit. Kiba hovered in the back, feeling awkward—Naruto had crushed him, and now he discovered Naruto had been secretly more cunning than he'd ever guessed.

Shino remained silent, but he approved of Naruto's stance. The ability to adapt was the mark of a strong ninja. Temari pursed her lips thoughtfully. Gaara didn't move, but his silence seemed to acknowledge that Naruto's spirit wouldn't be easily broken.

Dosu's masked face revealed nothing, but internally he might have been measuring these two loud contenders, wondering which would make a more interesting opponent down the line.

From above, Guy cleared his throat. "Alright, that's enough. The finals are a month away. Let's disperse and focus on training. I'm sure we've all seen enough drama for one day."

Asuma nodded, gesturing for some of his charges to follow him out. Kurenai tapped Hinata's name from a distance—she was already in the infirmary, safe from this confrontation. The fate of these genin would rest on their training and willpower, not petty taunts.

Kakashi tapped Naruto's shoulder gently, a silent sign of pride. Naruto breathed out slowly and nodded. He felt lighter, relieved that even with his secret exposed, he'd stood his ground. He wouldn't let Neji's insults or his own past overshadow his determination. He wouldn't let Neji's treatment of Hinata go unanswered either.

The hall slowly cleared as groups filed out. Neji was one of the last to leave, shooting Naruto one final, unreadable look. Naruto met that gaze evenly, not flinching this time. If Neji expected shame or retreat, he'd find none.

When only a few lingered, Naruto relaxed his clenched fists. He remembered the flashbacks again—those evenings as Hiro, shining boots until his fingers ached. The transformation back to himself in the forest under a moonlit canopy, and how he'd vowed that one day he wouldn't need such deception just to live decently. Now, as a finalist in the chunin exams, he saw how far he'd come. He was no longer that desperate child. He was a ninja among ninjas, ready to forge his own destiny.

Neji's revelation might have rattled him momentarily, but it also pushed him to confirm his resolve. He grinned to himself. This month would be the hardest training of his life. He'd grow, surpass his limits, and show Neji—and everyone else—that a so-called "shoe shiner" could rise above any station.

He could imagine the stunned faces of his tenants if they ever found out who their landlord was. Maybe one day he'd tell them. Not now. For now, he'd focus on the finals and on knocking Neji off his high horse.

With that thought, Naruto turned and followed Kakashi out, shoulders set, heart calm. He wouldn't let this slide. He wouldn't let Neji's cruelty to Hinata or this humiliating reveal go unanswered. The finals would be his stage to prove that fate was just another enemy to be defeated.

A/N: This is no slight against shoe shining, Naruto is mainly ashamed that he had to shine the shoes of the same people (the villagers) who've mistreated him all his life for the sake of money, coupled with that having to do so under a disguise as if he's some crook hurts his self esteem even more so.