Super Ninja

Slowly, people began gathering in the arena, though we couldn't hear much noise from the crowd. I focused and realized there weren't many shinobi here. They sat scattered among the regular spectators—some concealing their presence, others making no effort to do so.

On a small elevated platform, however, I could sense the presence of some exceptionally powerful shinobi. They were most likely the Kage, observing us intently, evaluating not just what we did but how we did it. Elsewhere, tucked between rows of seats, were rooms like ours, probably housing other genin. I assumed their accommodations were just as basic.

"I'm a bit nervous," Shiko admitted, her gaze fixed on the arena. To be fair, there was a lot to take in.

The arena itself was divided into several distinct "biomes." There was a sandy section, a water zone, a forested area, and even some peculiar pillars. The pillars especially caught my attention; they seemed both intriguing and suspicious. It's hard to describe, but something about them radiated an ominous vibe, as if stepping on them would be a bad idea. Perhaps they were rigged with traps. I didn't want to dwell on how twisted an experienced shinobi's mind could be when it came to designing such things.

"Don't worry," I said, offering her a reassuring smile. "You've been training hard. You're ready for this."

Shiko turned away without a word, continuing to stare at the arena. It wasn't my fault that some people hadn't been practicing as much as they should. Closing my eyes for a moment, I allowed myself to relax and mentally prepare for the fight ahead. My strategy was clear: finish the battle as quickly as possible. Sage Mode would be invaluable. No one would expect a genin to use such an advanced technique during the match.

After a while, it began. A familiar shinobi wearing a mask appeared on the stage, standing silently until the noise in the arena died down. It didn't take long. Even the food vendors moving through the stands took their seats.

"We welcome our guests to the Chunin Exam finals," he announced in a loud, clear voice. "Today, we present an unconventional finale. Pay close attention. The final exam is called a 'Battle Royale.' There will be three matches, as we've split the teams to create more challenging conditions. This setup is designed to force genin into inconvenient situations and encourage them to forge alliances. Place your bets before the first match begins, and enjoy the show."

Oh? So they allowed betting here too! Interesting, honestly. Then again, when you think about it... why not?

The shinobi overseeing our exam left the stage. A few minutes later, someone knocked on our door. A short man with a long scar across his cheek walked in, giving us a scrutinizing look before pulling out a small slip of paper.

"Ahem, the following are invited to the arena: Tetsukon Makudoru, Ayamane Nara, and Kyoko Kudasai," he read aloud. The trio of genin quickly stepped forward, awaiting further instructions. The man glanced at them with a calm, neutral expression and added, "Follow me. Remember... this is your last chance to withdraw from the final stage of the Chunin Exam."

He waited briefly, but since no one spoke up, he turned and headed for the exit. The genin followed him, the door closing behind them, sealing off any possibility of retreat.

A while later, they appeared in the arena alongside representatives from other villages. The genin seemed slightly out of place—likely unused to the attention and the pressure of such a large crowd. The announcer called their names slowly, pausing between each one to let the audience take in who they were and their reputations.

"Let's welcome our participants who've demonstrated the skill and strength to reach this stage," the announcer said, casting a glance at the genin positioned in different corners of the arena, awaiting the signal. "Begin."

In the next instant, he leapt onto a nearby wall and climbed to a podium, ready to observe the unfolding events. For a few moments, nothing happened. The genin sized each other up, each waiting for someone else to make the first move.

Then it happened—a genin from the Sand threw a smoke bomb, shrouding the arena in a thick cloud. Without hesitation, I activated my sensory abilities, knowing I might face something similar later. Almost immediately, I sensed someone burrowing deep underground while a puppet stood in place where its operator should have been. It was controlled by almost invisible bluish threads extending from the controller's fingers and, intriguingly, eyes. Threads from the puppet's eyes connected directly to the eyes of its master.

Other genin quickly began to act, either trying to escape the smoke or dissipate it. I sensed one of them throw something into the air. It exploded moments later, dispersing the smoke instantly. In the next moment, the puppet lunged forward, targeting an opponent from the Hidden Rain.

The two clashed briefly before breaking apart. From the puppet's mouth, several metal needles shot out, narrowly missing the Rain genin. The needles embedded themselves deeply into the arena wall, a clear warning of the puppet's lethality.

Meanwhile, Ayamane was forced to defend herself against a genin from the Land of Grass, who gave her no chance to catch her breath. They engaged in taijutsu, trading rapid, sharp blows, but it was clear her movements were sluggish. This was what happened when someone hadn't trained or even warmed up in a while. She needed time to get into her rhythm, but no one would give her that luxury.

Another opponent joined the fray—a female genin wielding a whip, an unconventional weapon that caught me off guard. Ayamane attempted to extend her shadow, likely to create an opening for another Konoha genin to assist her, but she was too slow. The whip's tip cracked against her leg, tearing a chunk of flesh.

"Ah!" she cried out in pain.

The first Grass genin seized the opportunity, closing in with calculated precision. His relentless assault turned Ayamane into little more than a punching bag. His final strike—a spinning kick to her stomach—sent her flying into the wall. She slid down, leaving a bloody smear behind. That was it—she was out of the fight, and the first elimination of the match.

"Ayamane…" Shiko whispered in shock. None of the other genin in the room spoke. The swift and brutal defeat left them stunned.

Two Konoha genin remained in the fight, but neither was performing well. One quickly became the puppet master's next target. The puppet cornered him with ease, pinning him to a tree. The force of the impact visibly broke several of his bones. That was the end of Tetsukon Makudoru—another elimination.

The last Konoha genin's situation looked grim. Collectively, my comrades were putting on a disappointing display. I could already imagine the Hokage's displeasure and the harsh criticism the captains would face for failing to prepare their teams adequately.

I closed my eyes and slipped into a light meditation. I had no interest in watching what would happen next—I already knew the outcome. The puppet master from the Sand would emerge victorious. Instead, I focused on preparing myself for the upcoming battle. About five minutes later, the arena erupted into cheers, confirming my prediction. The winner had been declared. As expected.

The next twenty minutes were spent restoring the arena to its original state—a labor-intensive task. Each group of genin needed to fight under identical conditions. None of the genin from the previous match returned, likely because they were in the hospital—if they had even survived. Despite my mixed feelings about Ayamane, I wouldn't want her to die so foolishly during the Chunin Exams.

On the twenty-fifth minute, the familiar scarred boy knocked on the door and stepped inside. In his hand was the now-familiar slip of paper with the next set of names. Knowing I would face my battle alone, I realized the list wasn't for me but for the remaining trio of genin, including Shiko.

"Next," he announced evenly, "Shiko Yamanaka, Yamato Kudasai, Bakuro Shin. It's your turn to enter the arena. Remember, you can still withdraw from participating. But… I wouldn't recommend it."

Behind him, Kakashi stepped into the room.

"The Hokage also advises against withdrawing," he added with his usual calm demeanor.

The genin turned to bow respectfully toward Hatake Kakashi, their expressions a mixture of composure and determination.

"Well then, what's the decision?" he asked, his tone as measured as ever.

Shiko, realizing retreat was not an option, spoke first. "I think we're ready."

An intense clash with other shinobi awaited them, and I found myself wondering how successful they would be.

"Excellent," Kakashi nodded. "Follow me."

He turned and headed down the corridor. The trio of genin followed, their steps heavy with reluctance. Refusing wasn't an option—when the Hokage advises against withdrawing, ignoring him isn't just foolish; it's risky. Who knows? A village leader might take offense, and while it sounds absurd, it's entirely possible.

Kakashi lingered for a moment, his single eye locking onto mine. His gaze carried a silent question: Are you ready? I nodded firmly. That was all the answer he needed. Without a word, Kakashi turned and exited the waiting room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the four walls.

The genin entered the arena much like the first group had, scattering to their designated positions as the crowd settled.

"Let's welcome the second group of participants," the masked announcer said, his voice amplified to reach every corner of the stadium. "Perhaps they'll show you something the first group couldn't. Or maybe not."

With a dramatic leap, he retreated to his observation post, giving the crowd a moment to study the new contenders and for vendors to make their rounds. Then, with a resounding voice, he declared:

"Begin!"

A hulking brute from the Land of Birds, someone I'd noticed during the theoretical exam, charged straight at Shiko. It was clear she wasn't ready for him. Without hesitation, he launched himself feet-first, striking her chest like a battering ram. Shiko flew backward, rolling across the ground like a broken doll. She came to rest in the shadows, coughing up blood. Her legs and lower back twisted at unnatural angles, while her one functional arm barely supported her weight. The other hung limply, broken in a way that would take ages to mend.

A brutal strike, to say the least. I had to admit—he deserved to be a chunin.

"Ugh," I muttered, shaking my head in quiet disapproval. The captain would undoubtedly face harsh criticism for this performance. There was no praise to be had for failing to push his team to train harder when he had the chance.

I closed my eyes again and returned to my meditation, carefully drawing in natural energy. It flowed smoothly through my chakra pathways, strengthening my body and sharpening my mind. The fatigue from hours of waiting melted away. By the time my fight arrived, I'd be fully prepared, operating at peak form.

Ten minutes later, the crowd erupted into cheers, signaling the end of the match. The winner was, unsurprisingly, another puppet master from Suna. My fight was drawing closer. Workers moved quickly to reset the arena, and medics carried away the injured. A musical group performed during the short intermission, entertaining the crowd while bets were placed and matches discussed.

For me, the two-hour break was far from comfortable, but meditation helped me stay calm and rejuvenated. By the time the audience returned to their seats for the final match, I was fully ready.

A knock on the door shattered the silence. The familiar scarred boy stepped inside, his unreadable expression masking any trace of emotion. He was trained well—like most shinobi.

"Suzuki Grand… Vitara," he said. "It's your turn to fight. You may withdraw, but doing so will result in immediate disqualification."

"Alright, let's go," I said, rising from my chair and stepping forward. I was completely prepared. Sage Mode was nearly active, my body brimming with natural chakra. I hadn't triggered it yet, but with a single thought, I could enter the mode and begin the fight without hesitation.

We navigated through a series of corridors until we arrived at a small chamber overlooking the arena. From similar chambers, I could see my opponents, each standing confidently, likely formulating their strategies.

I activated my sensory abilities, memorizing their chakra signatures. To me, it felt as though I already had them in the palm of my hand. The moment the fight began, I would be able to track them under almost any circumstance. Once everyone was in position, the passages opened, and we stepped out to designated spots I hadn't noticed before when viewing the arena from the waiting room window.

Standing on my mark, I waited for the action to begin. The masked shinobi scanned each of us with a focused gaze, likely making mental notes. Then, unexpectedly, he clapped his hands on his shoulders and announced:

"Let's welcome the third and final group of participants!"

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and cheers. Strangely, I found myself enjoying the moment. The energy of the audience carried a unique power—capable of lifting someone up or utterly crushing them.

I cast a sharp look at the other genin. They were glaring around the arena, trying to project toughness and hostility. Most of them seemed focused on intimidating specific opponents. Surprisingly, no one gave me more than a dismissive glance. Judging by the poor performance of the earlier Konoha genin, they were likely underestimating me.

Licking my lips to moisten them, I allowed myself to relax. Soon, it would be time to humble them. My eyes flicked to the crowd, landing on the Hokage seated in his standard uniform. Though his hat obscured part of his face, his narrowed eyes seemed to urge me silently: Don't bring shame to the village. I looked away and refocused, sharpening my sensory abilities.

"Begin!" the masked shinobi called out, leaping back to his observation post.

Immediately, a genin from the Sand threw a smoke bomb into the air. It exploded, spreading a dense cloud of smoke across the arena. I tracked him easily with my sensory abilities. At the same time, I sensed movement behind me—a genin wielding a sword was attempting a sneak attack. With a sharp sidestep, I dodged, the blade slicing just above my head. The attacker tried to recover his footing, but that brief hesitation was all I needed.

In a flash, I shifted into Sage Mode and delivered a powerful kick. The genin couldn't react in time, and the force of my strike sent him hurtling into a cluster of rocks that might have provided cover—if he'd had the chance to use them.

Wasting no time, I removed the heavy weights from my legs and began spinning them at high speed. The weights whistled through the air, transforming into deadly projectiles. A genin from the Hidden Rain attempted to sneak up on me, but I tracked his movements effortlessly. Redirecting one of the spinning weights, I sent it hurtling toward his back. The sickening crunch of breaking bones echoed through the arena. After a hit like that, getting back up was impossible.

The spinning weights gained even more speed, the centrifugal force powerful enough to dissipate the lingering smoke. As the air cleared, I spotted two genin locked in combat near the arena wall. Without hesitation, I hurled the weights at them. The impact sent both genin crashing into the stone wall, leaving deep craters. Their limp bodies slumped in the indentations—there was no question they were out of the fight.

In one fluid motion, I grabbed a kunai attached to a string of explosive tags from my pouch. Focusing intently, I targeted the puppet master, who was hiding in the shadows. His puppet was relentlessly attacking other genin, leaving him vulnerable to my strike.

I formed the seal of concentration and activated the explosive tags:

"Katsu!"

The arena shook as a deafening explosion ripped through it. A monstrous detonation rolled out in a thunderous wave, sending up clouds of debris and smoke. When the air cleared, a massive, smoldering crater marred the battlefield. Amid the destruction, the soot-streaked figure of the puppet master staggered to his feet, his movements disoriented. His puppet lay in shattered pieces nearby, utterly destroyed by the blast.

It was time to end this. With a burst of speed, I closed the distance. The puppet master had no time to react. My strike landed with devastating force, and I felt his bones crack beneath the impact. Before he even hit the ground, I was behind him, delivering another crushing blow to his ribs. The audible fractures confirmed the fight was over.

Landing smoothly, I surged toward my next opponent, who barely had time to react. Grabbing him by the collar, I swept his legs out from under him and drove my fist into the ground, releasing a burst of chakra. Blood spurted from his mouth, a clear sign of the dire condition he was in. But I didn't stop—I was building momentum.

"Fire Style! Fireball Jutsu!" the last genin standing, from the Land of Birds, roared furiously, his hands flying through a rapid series of seals.

A roaring sphere of molten fire erupted from his mouth, hurtling toward me with searing heat. The fiery projectile scorched the air, leaving behind the acrid tang of ozone. But instead of dodging, I shifted slightly, letting the inferno roar past me.

The genin froze, his expression one of utter disbelief. He hadn't expected such defiance. That brief moment of hesitation was all I needed. In an instant, I closed the distance between us. Concentrating all my strength into a single strike, I drove my fist into his face with brutal precision. The sickening crunch of shattering bone echoed across the arena. His body convulsed before collapsing backward, embedding itself in the hard ground. He lost consciousness immediately.

A moment later, shards of stone masonry rained down around me. The fireball that had missed its mark struck the arena wall, fracturing it and leaving deep cracks spidering across the surface like jagged scars.

For a few heartbeats, silence enveloped the arena. Then, the crowd erupted into a thunderous cacophony of cheers and applause. The entire fight had unfolded so quickly that no one fully grasped what had happened. Smoke, an explosion, a fireball—and then one lone victor left standing. Their excitement surged. How could they not scream with joy?

The judge approached, his gaze measured and composed.

"You've won," he said simply. "Return to the waiting area."

"Hai."

To be honest, I didn't feel much about winning. It had all happened too fast to process. My thoughts shifted to the real question: Did I finish within three minutes? I had a feeling I did. Hopefully, that would be enough to ensure the Hokage wouldn't overlook me for training under a strong jonin.