"What the hell is this question?"
Amamiya Shinsuke scratched his head until it looked like he was trying to dig through his skull. The test paper in front of him might as well have been written in another language. The written exam for the Genin trials had begun, and his brain had already surrendered.
Two rows behind him, Nasha let out the kind of sigh that said, I knew this idiot would choke again. Everyone in the class knew Shinsuke's theory grades were abysmal. Unfortunately, the rules of this exam were brutal: if even one member failed, the entire team would be eliminated.
With no other choice, Nasha scribbled down her answers, rolled up the sheet, and flicked it toward Shinsuke when the proctors weren't looking.
A crumpled ball of paper bounced onto his desk. Shinsuke blinked at it like it had personally offended him, then noticed tiny markings on it — a miniature fly doodled in the corner. Nasha's code. He glanced around, saw no one watching, and immediately started copying like his life depended on it.
And so, the first stage of the Genin Exams continued — a written test disguised as psychological warfare. Fear filled the room more than chakra did. The proctors were hawk-eyed, and every few minutes, another unlucky soul got dragged out for cheating.
Time dragged on like a kunai scraping stone. Finally—
"It's over!"
Shinsuke shot out of his seat the moment the proctor called time, stretching like a man escaping a death sentence. He strutted out of the classroom and looked at Hatake Hoshino with a grin full of misplaced pride.
"See that? Passed the first exam!"
Hoshino crossed his arms. "You mean we passed. And are you sure you didn't have a little help from Nasha-san?"
"Eh-heh… details, details…" Shinsuke coughed, eyes darting away.
Behind them, the senior ninjas observing through a crystal projection murmured among themselves. The first exam had been more interesting than expected. It wasn't about knowledge—it was about teamwork under pressure. Some even leaned closer to watch the next stages. The Amamiya Clan's new Ninja School was becoming a spectacle worth studying.
The next day came quickly, and with it, the second exam.
The remaining candidates gathered before a towering iron gate marked with warning seals. Behind it stretched a sprawling forest that seemed to swallow sunlight itself.
The Forest of Death.
Originally, there had been eighty-four participants—twenty-eight teams. Now, only twenty teams remained. Twenty-four people gone after just the written test. One-third eliminated.
Raizen had expected worse.
That morning, Shinsuke, Hoshino, and Nasha arrived early. This second exam was a battle of survival. Every participant had to sign a life-and-death waiver. They could withdraw if they wished—but this was the Warring States Period. These were children raised on war stories and loss. Signing their lives away was as normal as tying a headband.
Each team received one of two scrolls: Heaven or Earth. To pass, they had to obtain both and reach the central tower deep within the forest.
When the gates opened, the candidates sprinted into the darkness like wolves chasing prey.
"What's the plan?" Nasha asked once they were inside, kunai ready.
"What do you think?" Shinsuke smirked. "We head straight to the tower. If we meet another team, we beat them and take their scroll. If not, we wait there. Everyone has to pass through eventually."
Hoshino raised a brow. "You've actually thought this through. Impressive."
"Please," Shinsuke said, brushing dirt off his vest. "I may fail written tests, but I'm a genius at laziness."
"Fine, fine," Nasha said, rolling her eyes. "Let's move."
They advanced through the forest, alert but oddly unchallenged. A few distant clashes echoed now and then, but no one dared approach. The reputation of Hoshino, the Hatake prodigy, preceded them. Most teams preferred easier prey.
Hours later, they reached the central tower without a single battle. The only problem—no second scroll.
So they waited.
Eventually, fate delivered.
A wounded team stumbled into view, battered and bleeding, clutching their scroll in shaking hands. They didn't even have time to beg before Shinsuke's team disarmed them and claimed the prize.
And just like that, they became the first team to reach the tower with both scrolls intact.
By sunset, only ten teams remained. Thirty people. Half of them limping.
The tower hall was filled with onlookers — jōnin instructors, clan envoys, and elders observing the new generation. When the surviving genin entered, the chief examiner, an older shinobi with scarred cheeks, raised his voice.
"Congratulations on surviving the second exam. Now, the third test begins."
He paused. "However, before that, we'll hold a preliminary round. If you are too injured or wish to withdraw, step forward now."
Fourteen hands rose immediately. Cuts, bruises, broken bones — the forest had taken its toll. That left sixteen standing.
The examiner nodded. "Good. You have thirty minutes to rest. After that, we begin the qualifiers. Win, and you advance to the final exam."
The candidates found their corners, sharpening blades or meditating in silence. The tension in the air was like a drawn bowstring. One-on-one duels—no teams, no excuses.
The spectators above leaned forward, eager for blood and glory.
As the examiner called for readiness, Shinsuke cracked his knuckles and grinned. "Finally. A test I might actually pass without cheating."