“He is the guy who passed the exam without writing a single answer, if he was oh the student would have worshiped him,” Kuro whispered under his breath, though his tone cked cruelty. If anything, it was almost fond. Naruto’s determination, however clumsy, was admirable in its ht.

  Out of the er of his eye, Kuro noticed Reika shift slightly. She turned her head just enough to catch his gaze and quirked an eyebrow, her expression poised and calm. It was a silent question: *What’s so funny?*

  Kuro’s smirk widened. He leaned ba his chair, arms crossing loosely over his chest as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Just admiring the chaos,” he whispered, his voice low enough to go unheard by the prowling proctors.

  Reika’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile before she returo her paper, her focus as razor-sharp as ever.

  The room, for all its stillness, buzzed with invisible tension. The proctors roamed like wolves through a field of trembling sheep, their presence a stant threat to anyone foolish enough to slip up. Kuro noticed Ibiki himself halt briefly to scrutinize a boy two seats away, his heavy boots eg ominously against the floor. The boy froze uhe interrogataze, his trembling haraying his guilt.

  “You’re out!” Ibiki barked, smming his hand on the boy’s desk with the force of a thundercp. The sound reverberated through the room like a death knell, followed by the slow scrape of a chair as the student stood a, head bowed.

  Kuro didn’t flinch. Instead, his grin grew more lopsided as he surveyed the fallout—the ripple of uhat passed through the partits. *Fear is the real test,* he mused. *The questions are just the bait.*

  He leaned fain, his pencil zily tapping against the edge of his desk. The true game, Kuro realized, wasn’t just about finding answers—it was about maintaining posure, about proving you could perform under pressure without losing your nerve.

  He sed the room o time, his gaze lingering on Naruto. Despite his obvious struggles, there was no give-up in the boy’s posture. Kuro shook his head with a small chuckle.

  *He’s not going to crack,* Kuro thought. *Stubborn idiot.*

  But as his eyes flicked back to Reika and then to Sasuke, he knew ohing for certain: everyone had their own way of surviving this test. The smart ones would adapt, the brave ones would endure, and the foolish ones would be swept away.

  And Kuro?

  He smirked once more, his pencil finally moving across the paper. *I’m just here to enjoy the show.*

  ---

  The silent thrum of ay in the room intensified, spreading like ripples across a still pond. Each disqualification nded like a stone in the collective psyche of the partits, their nerves fraying thread by thread. Those who remained grew quieter, their breaths measured, their movements stiff and deliberate, as though afraid the slightest twitch might summon Ibiki or one of his prowling proctors.

  Kuro's pencil twirled idly between his fingers as he leaned back just enough to give the impression of rexed indifference. But his sharp eyes missed nothing. Each attempt to cheat was more ingenious tha—born from desperation and the quiet knowledge that failure was not an option.

  To his left, a boy scratched his ear, seemingly fidgeting nervously. Kuro almost missed it until he noticed the minuscule mirror cealed in the boy's palm. From his a caught just enough refle to show his teammate’s paper two rows away. Clever, Kuro admitted silently, but crude. Mirrors were risky; too much shioo muent. Sure enough, a proctor’s sharp gaze zeroed in. Within moments, the boy was hauled out by his colr, his chair cttering noisily behind him.

  “You’re out,” the proctor barked, his voice a whip crack that made the remaining partits flinch.

  Kuro smirked faintly. *Amateur.*

  His gaze drifted further across the room, settling on a pair of twins positioned diagonally from each other. They unicated in ways so subtle it was almost artistic—silent taps of their pencils, synized coughs, shifts in posture that somehow veyed entire sentences. Owin scribbled furiously while the other mimicked, their answers exged through some unspoken twin code.

  Kuro arched an eyebrow. *Not bad.*

  But Ibiki, that relentless hound, already had them in his sights. His heavy footsteps thudded ominously as he approached. The closer he got, the slower the twins’ movements became, their calm crag like gss uhe weight of his gaze. When he finally stopped between their desks, they froze pletely.

  Ibiki’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Do you two think I’m blind?”

  her twin dared to speak.

  “Out.”

  The twins shared a look of quiet defeat as they stood, gathering their papers with trembling hands before shuffling out. Their departure left a chill in the air.

  Kuro bit back a chuckle. *He’s ruthless.*

  It wasn’t long before his attention was drawn to the girl with the chakra thread. Now *that* was impressive. From across the room, her teammate barely moved, whispering the ti sylbles that only her fiuned chakra thread could trao movement. Her pen moved without her even toug it, dang across the paper with eerie precision.

  Kuro watched with geerest, his lips curling into a small smile. The teique was subtle, refined—a masterful blend of skill and iy. *She must have practiced that for months.*

  But as fwless as her execution was, her mistake was in her fidence. Ibiki noticed her almost immediately. His steps were quiet—impossibly so for a man of his build—and before anyone else realized it, he was standing right behind her.

  “ry.”

  His voice slithered through the air like a snake, sending a cold shiver down the girl’s spihe chakra thread snapped with an audible *pop*, her pen cttering uselessly onto the desk. Her wide eyes darted up to Ibiki’s face as if hoping to plead her case, but there was no mercy to be found there.

  She was gone moments ter, her chair left eerily empty.

  Kuro exhaled softly, his smile lingering as he shook his head. *The arrogant ones always overpy their hand.*

  All around him, the pressure mounted. Cheating attempts dwindled as fear rooted itself deeper. Even those with clever methods grew hesitant, their hands shaking, their foreheads glistening with sweat. The air felt thick, stifling, like the room itself was suffog them.