The exam building looked disappointingly normal.
No ominous statues, no screaming faces, not even a suspicious bloodstain on the walls. Just a big square of concrete and glass with too many windows and the stale chakra of a thousand bureaucrats clinging to the halls.
Naruto deflated visibly. "This is it?" he whined. "Where's the death aura? The menacing architecture?"
"Sorry," I said. "The budget went to trauma counseling and explosive tags."
He squinted at me. "Is that a joke?"
"Probably."
We filed in with the other teams, sandals scuffing against tile. The stairwell was already crowded—Leaf headbands everywhere, a couple foreign ones mixed in like someone shuffled the nations and scattered them on the stairs.
The air buzzed. Nervous chakra, sharp edges, a few people already trying too hard to look scary.
Naruto leaned over the railing. "Whoaaa, there's so many people!"
"Don't lean over," I said automatically. "I don't have a seal for 'fell down three flights of stairs like an idiot.'"
He pouted, but stepped back.
We reached the second floor landing—sign over the door: 301.
"Is that… already the exam room?" Naruto asked. "That was fast."
Something tugged at the back of my senses.
The chakra in the air here felt… thin. Like someone had stretched a piece of cling wrap over the corridor. Not heavy auras, not killing intent, just a shallow, flat film over people's awareness.
I frowned. "Huh."
Two older genin guarded the doorway, blocking it with lazy confidence. A sign was taped to the wall, big black brushstrokes: CHUNIN EXAM ROOM 301.
In front of them, a tiny drama was already in progress.
A kid with round glasses and an overlarge hitai-ate was picking himself up off the floor, nose bleeding. His teammate, a girl with dark hair in buns, glared at the blockers.
"You didn't have to hit him that hard," she snapped.
The taller of the two guards smirked. "If you can't handle this, you've got no business taking the Exams."
The other one flicked his eyes over the crowd. "You brats should just quit now. Save us the trouble of watching you fail."
They radiated the smug, sour chakra of people who had failed once and decided bullying was a valid coping mechanism.
Naruto's fists clenched. "Those jerks—"
"Don't," I murmured, catching his sleeve. "Pretty sure punching the proctors is bad form."
"They're not proctors," Sasuke said flatly.
I looked at him. He'd gone still, eyes narrowed—not just annoyed, but focused.
He glanced at the sign again, then at the stairwell behind us.
"It's a genjutsu," he said. "We're still on the second floor."
Naruto blinked. "Huh?"
Sasuke jerked his chin at the kids who'd just been knocked back. "They've been letting everyone think this is the third floor and using it to test us. Anyone who can't see through an illusion like this isn't fit to be chunin."
I exhaled a little. "Great," I said. "Stairs that lie. Day one and we're already losing to architecture."
Naruto squinted harder at the sign like he could brute-force it into honesty. "But it says three-oh-one!"
"Numbers are fake, Naruto," I said. "Trust nothing."
"'Fake numbers' is not a helpful takeaway," Sasuke muttered.
He stepped forward, brushing past the two "guards" without flinching.
"Quit wasting everyone's time," he told them. "Drop the genjutsu."
The taller one bristled. "Oh? You think you're hot stuff, figuring it out—"
Sasuke's eyes shifted.
The single tomoe in each Sharingan spun into place, red bleeding into black. His chakra sharpened like a blade being honed.
The taller genin shut up mid-sentence.
"Fine," he grumbled. "Welcome to the Chunin Exams."
The illusion snapped.
The air cleared; the thin film sensation vanished. The sign over the door resolved to 201, not 301. A few of the rookies around us gasped, realizing they'd been fooled the entire time.
Naruto gaped. "Wha—?!"
"I hate mind tricks," Kiba muttered somewhere behind us.
"Those of us with insufficient genjutsu training may need to compensate with other skills," Shino said calmly.
"Speak for yourself," Ino huffed. "I knew something was up. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise."
Shikamaru sighed. "What a drag," he said. "They're already testing us before the test. Troublesome."
The two fake gatekeepers melted back into the crowd, eyeing Sasuke with new interest.
Sasuke's Sharingan faded, but his chakra stayed razor-edged. He gave a little scoff, like that whole thing had been beneath him, and turned toward the stairs.
"Niiice," Naruto said, eyes sparkling. "You looked so cool just now!"
"Hn," Sasuke replied, but his shoulders loosened a fraction.
We started up toward the real third floor.
I was halfway to composing a deeply sarcastic internal rant about exam designers when someone landed in front of us with a soft whump of air.
He'd dropped from the ceiling.
Of course he had.
He wore the standard green jumpsuit, orange legwarmers, and the most powerful eyebrows I had ever seen in my life. His bowl-cut gleamed with righteous fury. His chakra blazed bright and earnest, like green firework sparks going off in every direction.
He pointed directly at Sasuke.
"You!" he declared. "With the cool eyes and the aura of brooding darkness!"
Sasuke stared. "What."
Naruto leaned over. "Who the heck is this guy?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I think a training manual came to life."
Bushy Brows straightened to his full, not-very-imposing height.
"My name is Rock Lee!" he announced, voice ringing across the hallway. "And I challenge you, Uchiha Sasuke, to a duel!"
There was a beat of absolute silence.
"Why," Sasuke said flatly.
"Because!" Lee's eyes actually sparkled. "I have sworn to prove that one can become a splendid ninja through hard work alone, even without ninjutsu or genjutsu! To that end, I wish to test my taijutsu against the rookie our village holds in highest regard!"
"Wow," I said. "Imagine doing this much cardio on purpose."
Naruto's head swivelled between them. "Wait, you don't know him?"
"No," Sasuke said.
Lee wobbled, briefly shaken, then recovered with terrifying speed.
"In time, you will know my name," he said earnestly. "But first, Sasuke-kun! Do you accept my challenge?"
Sasuke's eye twitched.
He looked like he wanted to say no on principle. But a stronger impulse ran under his chakra: the need to measure himself against anything stronger, faster, sharper. Especially after Gaara's unsettling presence down the hall, Neji's cold confidence, the whispers about foreign prodigies.
He exhaled slowly.
"Five minutes," he said. "No more."
Lee lit up like someone had flipped a chakra switch. "Excellent!"
He dropped into a stance, arms up, legs braced. Even I could see the discipline in it—no wasted movement, no flash, just pure efficiency wrapped in horrible fashion.
I stepped back to the edge of the hall with Naruto and the others.
"Is this allowed?" I murmured.
"Probably not," Shikamaru said. "But no one's stopping it, so…"
Tenten appeared at Lee's shoulder for a second, sighing. "Lee, you're going to get us in trouble."
Neji watched from behind them, arms crossed, pale eyes cool and utterly unimpressed. His chakra felt like a closed fist—tight, contained, ready to punch straight through whatever it met.
I shivered.
All right. So the competition wasn't just loud and weird. It was terrifying and weird.
Lee moved first.
No warning, no feint—just a flicker of motion and sudden impact.
One second he was in front of Sasuke; the next, he was above him, leg already swinging down.
Sasuke barely got his arms up in time.
Lee's kick hammered into his guard, sending him skidding backward across the tile. The air left his lungs in a harsh exhale.
Fast.
Faster than Haku in the mirrors? No. But close. Too close for comfort.
Naruto shouted something in the background. Sasuke tuned it out.
He reset his stance, eyes narrowing, Sharingan flaring back to life. Red tomoe spun into focus, tracking Lee's movements as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.
"You're strong," Lee said, not sounding even a little out of breath. "But your body isn't used to this speed."
Sasuke's jaw clenched.
"I'll adjust," he said.
He lunged forward, kunai flashing. If this guy relied purely on taijutsu, then closing the distance and disrupting his rhythm was the only option.
Lee slid around the blade like it was nothing, twisting at the last second. His fist snapped out, catching Sasuke in the ribs. Pain bloomed white-hot along Sasuke's side.
He staggered a step, then forced himself steady. His Sharingan drank in every twitch of Lee's muscles, every shift of weight.
Again.
Sasuke came in lower this time, feinting left, then spinning to strike from the right.
Lee was already there.
He caught Sasuke's kick on his forearm and shoved him away easily, using Sasuke's own momentum against him.
"Your eyes," Lee said, expression serious, "are remarkable. You can see my movements."
He vanished.
Sasuke's Sharingan tracked the blur of green reappearing behind him, but his body couldn't turn fast enough to match. A kick slammed into his back, launching him forward.
He caught himself on his hands, flipped, landed in a crouch.
But his breath was coming faster now. His muscles ached from impacts he hadn't fully blocked.
It was like fighting the air itself—nothing to grab onto, nothing to slow down.
"If you cannot keep up now," Lee said gently, "you will not be able to stand against certain opponents in these Exams. I do not say this to insult you, but to warn you."
Neji's gaze sharpened. Tenten bit her lip.
Sasuke's hands curled into fists.
He thought of Haku, of the ice mirrors, of how slow he'd felt in that cage. He thought of Itachi's shadow, always just ahead, always just out of reach.
"I don't need warnings," he said, forcing the words through his teeth. "I need power."
He pushed his chakra harder into his legs, calculating angles even as his ribs protested. Sharingan fed him data: the way Lee's right foot dug in before every lunge, the slight hitch in his breaths, the microseconds of opening between attacks.
If he could just—
Lee smiled, sudden and bright.
"Very well," he said. "Then I will show you the power of hard work! Forgive me, Gai-sensei, but I must…"
His hands moved to the bandages around his legs.
He started to unwrap them.
A ripple went through the watching genin.
Sasuke's instincts screamed.
"That's enough."
The booming voice came from the stairs.
Might Guy strode up like a green hurricane, teeth gleaming, bowl-cut somehow even more dramatic than Lee's. His chakra burned hot and ridiculous, like Lee's turned up to eleven.
He landed beside his student in a pose that absolutely no one asked for, arms crossed, one thumb up, his smile so blinding it was probably a war crime.
"Young Lee," Guy said, "we must not reveal our secret techniques in the hallway before the Exams!"
Lee froze mid-unwrap, eyes wide with dismay. "Gai-sensei!"
Naruto and Sylvie traded an identical horrified look.
"Is… is that us in ten years?" Sylvie whispered.
Naruto shuddered. "No way. I'm gonna have way cooler hair."
Sasuke straightened slowly, forcing his breathing to steady. His chest hurt. His pride hurt more.
Guy gave him a once-over, then nodded approvingly.
"You have excellent instincts, young man!" he said. "To hold your own against Lee without preparation is impressive!"
Sasuke wanted to argue that he had not held his own. He'd been pushed around like a training dummy. But the words stuck in his throat.
He couldn't deny the evidence: even with Sharingan, his body hadn't kept up.
Not yet.
"Hn," he said instead, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth. "Next time, I'll win."
Lee's eyes lit again. "I look forward to our rematch, Sasuke-kun!"
Guy threw an arm around Lee's shoulders, tears already forming.
"Such youthful rivalry!" he sobbed. "It burns like a thousand suns!"
"Please stop," someone muttered.
Naruto gawked. "What's wrong with them?"
Sylvie pinched the bridge of her nose again. "I don't know," she said. "But whatever it is, it's contagious."
Contagious or not, they were also terrifying.
Lee's chakra felt like a rush of hot air—forward, no subtlety, bright green determination that wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was "up." Even when he stood still, the energy around him bounced on its toes. On paper, he was the type of shinobi the Academy would call "limited." No elemental affinity yet, no flashy techniques. And yet he'd just bounced Sasuke—the boy with the Sharingan—around a hallway like a rubber ball.
Proof that "useless" skills on a chart could still snap your spine.
Neji's chakra was the opposite: cool and dense, the center of a storm with all the motion hidden under a still surface. It flowed along his pathways in neat, ruthless lines, like he'd been practicing control since before he could walk.
My ink-stained fingers itched.
Tenten hovered near them, steady and practical. Her chakra didn't shout; it hummed like tight bowstrings and polished metal, all clean intent and no wasted motion.
I made myself memorize the feel of all three of them, especially Lee and Neji. If I ever ran into them again on a mission—or on a battlefield—I wanted to know what "normal" felt like before I had to figure out "broken."
Guy finally dragged Lee off with promises of "proper youthful arenas," leaving a trail of emotional glitter behind them.
Naruto immediately rounded on Sasuke.
"DUDE," he exploded. "That was crazy! You were like 'wham!' and he was like 'zoom!' and then you were like 'ow!'—"
Sasuke glared. "Shut up."
Naruto ignored him. "We gotta get way faster," he said, eyes wide. "Like, way way faster. If there's more guys like that in there—"
"There are," I said. "And some worse."
He swallowed.
The corridor began to empty as genin moved toward the real third floor. The air buzzed harder here—nerves, excitement, hungry ambition. Dozens of chakra signatures layered over each other, turning my sense into static.
I reached out on instinct, brushing my thumb over the small ink marks hidden under Naruto's sleeve and on the back of Sasuke's glove.
The Squad Marks flared faintly in response—tiny, simple tags I'd drawn on them last week. Nothing fancy, just a quick "ping" when I pushed chakra through: I'm here, you idiots.
Both of them glanced back at me at the same time.
Naruto grinned.
Sasuke rolled his eyes.
Good. That was balance.
We moved with the herd up the last flight of stairs.
The sign over the next door read 301 again.
This time, it felt right. No chakra film, no illusion shimmer, just heavy air and the muffled roar of too many people stuck in the same room.
Naruto swallowed once, then puffed himself up like nothing scared him.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," I said. "But let's go anyway."
We slid the doors open.
The room was already packed. Genin from all over—Sound headbands, Sand, Rain, Grass, a few I didn't recognize. The emotional palette hit me like a punch: suspicion, boredom, aggression, outright murderous glee.
A couple dozen faces turned toward the door.
Hostility rolled over us in a wave.
Naruto, genius that he was, inhaled deeply.
"HEY LOSERS!" he yelled. "TEAM 7'S HERE! WE'RE GONNA CRUSH YOU ALL!"
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose so hard it almost counted as a self-inflicted injury.
"Great," I muttered. "Step one: antagonize everyone in the room. Perfect start."
Sasuke sighed like his soul had left his body.
We stepped inside anyway.