Ding-dong—!
The written test bell rang.
Shikage, leaning against the window with a book in his hands, slowly closed it and stretched with a satisfied groan.
"Been forever since I just sat and read."
"Forgot half this stuff already."
There wasn't a trace of bragging in his voice—only genuine regret.
He really did love diving into oceans of knowledge.
Lately he'd been so busy grinding combat power that books had taken a back seat.
So when a rare chance like this popped up, of course he wasn't going to waste it.
Still, he knew what mattered most.
After returning every volume to its shelf, he glanced toward the entrance.
This was the staging area outside the Forest of Death—the second stage exam site.
He'd arrived first and had already been waiting over half an hour.
A few candidates had trickled in here and there, but the total number was still tiny.
Once the bell rang, though, the floodgates would open.
He was curious how many people from classroom 3B had actually passed the written test.
A few minutes later, Shikage blinked, counted again, and finally accepted the truth: out of forty people in 3B, only eight had qualified.
He spotted a visibly exhausted Natsu Hyūga and asked with real curiosity,
"Did our room really eliminate that many?"
The usually stone-faced Hyūga girl actually rolled her eyes at him for once.
"If you hadn't been there, the pass rate would've at least doubled."
Shikage's eyebrow twitched—he had a pretty good idea why.
Hana Inuzuka, who lived for chaos, flashed her little fangs in a grin. Thinking he hadn't caught on, she eagerly explained,
"It's all because of that chakra blob you left on your paper!"
"You have no idea how much it messed with everyone."
"Even after the last bit finally faded, half the room got so desperate they were caught red-handed by the proctors."
"…"
Shikage felt zero guilt.
After all, if you wanted to copy his answers… there was always a price.
Watching Shikage stand there completely relaxed, still casually flirting with the cute girls, Shibuki felt a fresh wave of envy and jealousy—and a heavy pressure crushing his chest.
Just one leftover clump of Shikage's chakra had left him completely helpless.
What would facing the man himself be like?
Daimaru, for the first time, actually took Shikage seriously. As arrogant as he was, even he had to admit the guy was a worthy rival.
But that was it.
Beating the Red Sandstorm? Nara Shikage still wasn't on that level!
Maki didn't feel much of anything. Her first impression of Shikage had already decided how she saw him.
She was only here to become a chunin. If she could avoid him entirely, that would be ideal.
Kabuto pushed up his glasses from the crowd, quietly updating his mental file on Shikage.
The longer he observed the boy, the more unsettled he became.
But that unease wasn't because of Shikage himself—it was…
—As expected of Lord Orochimaru!
While everyone's thoughts swirled in different directions, the second-stage examiner finally arrived.
He stood in the center of the clearing beside a huge opaque box, holding a sealed scroll.
Once he confirmed every candidate was present, he smoothly unfurled it and read aloud:
"Second exam: Number Plate Scramble Battle."
"Rules are simple. Within one day, collect six points."
"Your own plate is worth three points. Your assigned target's plate is also worth three points. Every other plate is worth one point."
"Please come forward in an orderly line to receive your plates."
"Front side shows your own number. Back side shows your target."
"Once everyone has their plate, candidates will enter the forest in the order their number is called."
The examiner's serious voice echoed across the open ground.
Shikage stepped up and casually grabbed one.
He studied the front—standard Konoha emblem with the number "35."
"Thirty-five again, huh…" he muttered, flipping it over.
When he saw the magatama symbol on the back, a faint smile touched his lips. Poor guy.
He glanced around. Every other candidate was already eyeing each other with wary caution.
It was like the second exam had started the moment the plates were handed out.
Shikage wasn't nervous. He wasn't even slightly worried.
He simply hung his plate openly around his neck, making zero effort to hide it.
It wasn't just because he was confident in his strength.
More importantly, the exam only lasted one day.
If hiding plates was allowed, the whole thing would drag to a crawl.
There was no way they'd finish in twenty-four hours.
So he was almost certain the rules forbade hiding your number once you entered the forest.
He was only half right.
Anyone who tried to conceal their plate before entering got a sharp warning from the examiners.
Once inside the Forest of Death, no hiding allowed.
Before that? Totally fine.
So all kinds of looks—friendly, hostile, worried, mocking—immediately locked onto Shikage.
Some of them definitely had 35 as their target.
So what?
When his number was called, Shikage strolled forward without a care.
He didn't give a damn who was hunting him.
He didn't even care who his own target was.
There was only one thing on his mind the entire time.
The Takigakure team.
If they planned to use the Hero's Water, the Forest of Death was the perfect stage.
The second exam's real combat setting was the ideal place to show off its power.
Stepping onto the damp soil of the Forest of Death, Shikage slowly dropped his carefree expression.
For the first time since the exams began, his face turned serious.
"Time to get to work."
His clear voice landed softly.
And then he was gone.
...
Maki's heart felt like lead.
She scanned the gloomy surroundings, face grim.
Gritting her teeth, she clutched her plate—number 9—tightly.
She closed her eyes, flipped it over, then slowly opened them again.
No matter how many times she looked, that number still burned.
—35!
—Nara Shikage!
The worst possible matchup.
Her target was Nara Shikage.
...
A heavy boot slammed into the mud.
Daimaru hated the soft, wet ground. It was disgusting.
He preferred dry, hard sand—like the kind his goddess Temari walked on.
Thinking about the situation back in Sunagakure, his lips curled into a savage grin, killing intent flashing in his eyes.
"Number 9—Maki!"
"Finally got my chance."
"Let's see who saves you this time!"
"Killing you is definitely going to make Temari happy!"
"Heh heh heh…"
His own plate hung openly on his chest—number 6 faintly visible in the shifting light.
...
Shibuki carefully patted the plate on his chest to make sure it wouldn't fall off, then studied his surroundings.
He crouched beside a tree and carved a mark into the bark with a kunai.
Even though he kept telling himself he was plenty strong on his own, something still felt off without his teammates.
As if remembering something, he muttered under his breath,
"A-Da, A-Er… you guys still remember the Takigakure secret signals, right?"