The tournament grounds were nothing like the Forest of Death.

  No twisted trees. No blood in the mist.

  Just a coliseum of stone and iron, wide-open sky above, and a sea of watching eyes.

  Ken stood at the edge of the arena gates, arms folded, observing as the preparation crews finished reinforcing the outer seals. Wind banners snapped against the morning air, bearing the Leaf insignia alongside those of allied and neutral nations—Cloud, Stone, Mist, and even Sand.

  This wasn’t just a test.

  This was entertainment.

  The Chūnin Exams Tournament had become a seasonal celebration in the Fire Country—a way for citizens, nobility, and foreign ambassadors to witness their future protectors, allies, and sometimes, enemies. Vendors lined the outer pzas. Children bought wooden kunai and wore mock headbands.

  Ken heard the cheers as the crowd began to fill the stands above.

  “Feels like a festival,” Daisuke muttered beside him, stretching his shoulders.

  Reina stood on his other side, calm, precise. “Only one difference.”

  Ken spoke without turning. “Here, losing means everyone sees it.”

  Daen approached, clipboard under one arm. “They’ll all be watching. But not just you three.”

  He handed Ken a slip of paper. “Your first opponent.”

  Ken opened it.

  Name: KuroiVilge: Hidden RainRank: GeninAffiliation: Interrogation Squad TraineeSpecialty: Psychological Jutsu / Acid Release

  Reina leaned in, reading over his shoulder. “He’s not subtle.”

  “No,” Daen agreed. “Kuroi’s known for turning matches into interrogations. Disorientation genjutsu. Confession-triggering chakra pulses. Most give up without realizing it.”

  Daisuke frowned. “Is that even legal?”

  “Technically,” Daen said. “He hasn’t killed anyone. Yet.”

  Ken studied the file, memorizing every word. One note stood out:

  ‘Prefers opponents with emotional instability. Uses their history against them.’

  He folded the paper and tucked it into his sleeve.

  “I don’t crack.”

  By noon, the coliseum was packed.

  Stands filled with shouting citizens, nobles in shaded balconies, shinobi from multiple nations clustered in reserved areas.

  In the Hokage’s viewing ptform sat Hiruzen, fnked by ANBU and key jōnin. Beside him, surprisingly, sat Shikaku Nara, arms crossed, scanning the arena like it was a chessboard and every genin a future piece.

  On the other side?

  Uchiha Elders.

  Ken’s name had reached them again—and they came to see for themselves.

  The boy who broke tradition.

  The boy who refused their leash.

  The announcer’s voice rang out across the arena:

  “Welcome to the tournament stage of the Chūnin Exams!”

  Cheers.

  “Today begins the matches that will decide not only who rises… but who survives.”

  Silence.

  “First match: Ken of the Leaf—vs. Kuroi of the Hidden Rain!”

  Ken stepped into the sunlit arena, cloak fluttering slightly, sword slung across his back, expression unreadable.

  Across from him, Kuroi emerged from the opposite gate.

  He was thin, pale, with slick bck hair and bnk eyes that shimmered unnaturally.

  He smiled—too wide.

  “You’re the prodigy?” he called.

  Ken didn’t respond.

  Kuroi tilted his head. “I hear you walked away from your cn. What a waste. All that blood, all that power… and still no pce to call home.”

  Still, Ken said nothing.

  Only loosened his shoulders.

  Kuroi smiled again.

  “I wonder what else you’re hiding.”

  The proctor dropped his hand.

  “Begin!”

  Kuroi moved first.

  No weapons. Just hands in a strange seal, chakra pulsing outward.

  Ken felt it instantly.

  A haze over the air. Not a genjutsu—but a subtle disorientation wave. Heartbeat distortion. Breathing sync manipution.

  Designed to make your body betray you.

  Ken stepped forward once.

  And smiled.

  He activated his Sharingan.

  The haze lit up like wires in the dark. Ken tracked the pattern in real time, saw the pulse path, the rhythm of the chakra vibration—and cut through it.

  Kuroi flinched.

  “You shouldn’t be able to—”

  Ken flickered.

  Fūton: Shōtotsu Kaze.

  A burst of focused wind smmed Kuroi off bance. Ken closed the distance with three tight steps and swung his bde—not at flesh, but at chakra points along Kuroi’s sleeve.

  Tsssst. Seals unraveled.

  Kuroi stumbled back, releasing a cloud of acid mist—bright green and sizzling.

  Ken didn’t retreat.

  Instead, he tossed a barrier-flex seal into the air and channeled water chakra into it.

  Suiton: Mizu Tate.A flexible water shield formed instantly, absorbing the mist, shaping around it, then smming outward like a liquid fist.

  Kuroi flew across the arena, crashing into the far wall.

  Smoke. Silence.

  Then the proctor raised his hand.

  “Winner: Ken of the Leaf!”

  The crowd erupted.

  Not for the style.

  But for the efficiency.

  It had taken Ken eighteen seconds.

  From the stands, Hiruzen nodded slowly.

  “Precise,” he said.

  Shikaku muttered, “He didn’t just win. He learned him mid-fight.”

  Even the Uchiha Elders remained silent—tight-lipped, eyes narrowed.

  Their exile had just outperformed a psychological specialist without ever being touched.

  Back in the waiting room, Reina stared at him.

  “You okay?”

  Ken wiped his bde clean.

  “He wanted to make me doubt myself.”

  Daisuke grinned. “Bet he didn’t expect you to hit back with an IQ.”

  Ken didn’t smile.

  But something in his eyes glinted.

  This wasn’t about promotion.

  It was about warning.

  To those watching from the shadows.

  He wasn’t a tool.

  He was a threat.