The morning the Chūnin Exams began, the vilge was already tense.

  The Academy compound had been cleared for the occasion—hallways scrubbed, cssrooms sealed, upper windows tinted. Even the banners hanging from the gates seemed heavier with expectation.

  Squad 9 stood in front of the tall building with dozens of other teams. Some wore Leaf headbands. Others bore symbols from the Hidden Cloud, Mist, Grass, and even a single Rain team—all younger than expected.

  Ken adjusted the wrap on his wrist, sword slung tight across his back, Sharingan not activated—but ready.

  Beside him, Reina looked around carefully. Daisuke just smirked at a group of cocky Stone-nin staring too long.

  Daen stood a few meters off, arms folded.

  “You all know the stakes,” he said quietly. “You don’t need to win. You need to show you're worth watching. And worth keeping.”

  Ken looked at him. “Anyone in particur watching?”

  Daen’s eyes flicked up the building. “Plenty.”

  Inside, the first-floor cssroom was packed with genin. Rows of desks. A single long chalkboard. Two proctors stood at the front—one male, one female—both clearly Chūnin, but with the kind of calm that came from ANBU training.

  Ken scanned the room before sitting.

  Two things immediately stood out:

  There were far too many teams for the size of the room.

  Every window had a reflective sheen—not enough to block sunlight, but enough to mirror the room’s yout.

  A surveilnce array.

  Not to observe cheating.

  To observe reactions.

  Ken took a seat in the center row. Reina sat to his right, Daisuke to his left.

  A moment ter, a white-haired man in a fk vest and red sash entered the room, carrying a clipboard and a soft smile.

  Morino Ibiki.

  Ken had heard the name. Interrogator. Torture expert. Psychological warfare specialist.

  Ibiki didn’t speak right away. He just looked at them.

  Every single one.

  Like he could see into each of their intentions and break them before the exam started.

  Then he spoke, voice ft.

  “This is the first phase of the Chūnin Exams. Written component.”

  Groans broke out across the room.

  Ibiki ignored them.

  “You will answer ten questions. The first nine test tactics, memory recall, and coded logic. The tenth question will be given to you at the end. You may forfeit at any time. But if any member of your squad is disqualified…”

  He paused.

  “Your whole team fails.”

  Reina blinked.

  Daisuke leaned back. “Typical.”

  Ken stayed still.

  Ibiki continued. “You will be watched. Closely. Every action. Every breath. Every mistake.”

  Ken activated his Sharingan—just for a second—long enough to catch the reflection of two hidden ninja in the back mirror, high above the chalkboard.

  Not watching for answers.

  Watching for control.

  Ibiki passed out the tests.

  “You have forty-five minutes.”

  The test was brutal.

  Each question was a trap. One asked them to deduce an enemy’s rank based on damage reports from a destroyed town—but gave only vague timelines. Another asked about chakra recovery formus, but used false conversion scales buried in the wording.

  They weren’t being tested on knowledge.

  They were being tested on reaction under pressure.

  Daisuke tapped his pen like a code—two long, one short.

  Reina coughed twice.

  Ken ignored it.

  He already knew the real test wasn’t the paper.

  It was whether he’d break under the weight of uncertainty. Whether he’d panic.

  He didn’t.

  Thirty minutes in, four teams had already quit.

  Ibiki didn’t even look up.

  At the forty-five minute mark, he stepped to the front.

  “Final question.”

  Silence settled like fog.

  “This question is optional. But if you choose to attempt it and fail...”

  He looked up, smile thin.

  “You will never be allowed to take the Chūnin Exams again.”

  Half the room flinched.

  “But if you choose not to answer... you and your team may leave now. No penalty. No bck mark.”

  A girl in the far row stood and left. Her teammates followed, quiet and ashamed.

  Ken didn’t move.

  Ibiki's eyes scanned for reactions.

  When he reached Ken’s desk, he paused.

  “You staying in?”

  Ken looked up.

  “I don’t know how to leave.”

  Ibiki didn’t smile.

  But he walked on.

  When the time expired, Ibiki closed the doors.

  “Well done. Those of you still here… you pass.”

  Whispers rippled across the room.

  He continued. “The written portion was never about correct answers. It was about endurance, risk evaluation, and trust in your squad.”

  He waved a hand at the reflective gss.

  “You’ve been watched by both Leaf and foreign vilge operatives the entire time. We weren’t checking your cheat attempts.”

  He paused.

  “We were checking your conviction.”

  He dismissed them.

  “Your next proctor is outside. You have ten minutes to reach the Forest of Death. If you're te, you're out.”

  Ken stood calmly.

  Reina blew out a breath. “Well that was psychological warfare.”

  Daisuke muttered, “He pys dirtier than Daen.”

  As they exited the room, Ken gnced back once—just long enough to notice one more detail:

  A masked ANBU standing in the shadow of the exit.

  Not watching the group.

  Watching him.

  Outside, the air had shifted. Darker. Quieter.

  The Forest of Death loomed ahead—spiked trees, twisted paths, the scent of old chakra and fresh danger.

  Daen met them near the edge.

  “You’re through the first phase,” he said. “Now comes the part where people actually start dying.”

  Reina looked uneasy. “It’s that serious?”

  Ken nodded. “This isn’t school anymore.”

  Daisuke cracked his knuckles. “Good. I’m tired of paper.”

  Daen handed them a scroll—Heaven.

  “You’ll need to find the Earth scroll and make it to the center tower in five days.”

  Ken took it.

  Daen lowered his voice. “You’ve trained for this. Trust your instincts.”

  Ken nodded, gaze fixed on the trees ahead.

  Ten minutes.

  One scroll.

  Dozens of enemies.

  And the eyes?

  They were still watching.