Ibiki’s eyes narrowed, but there was no mali his look, only a reition of the truth. “Eagerness will get them killed if they don’t have the skill to back it up. There’s a reason we weed out the weak early on.”

  Kuro raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the deeper yers in Ibiki’s words. “And you think they’ll survive wheakes are higher?”

  Ibiki’s response was slow, deliberate. “They won’t have a choice.” His voice was almost a whisper, carrying a weight that could only e from experience. “In this world, the weak shinobi die first. We teach them that lesson early. It’s the only way to ehat the best rise to the top.”

  Kuro nodded, his smile slipping into something more ptive. “I see. A harsh world, but a fair one, I suppose.” He leaned ba his chair, crossing his arms.

  “Fair?” Ibiki scoffed, but there was a glint of something—admiration, perhaps? “You sound like someone who’s seen too much, Kuro. This world doesn’t deal in fairness. It deals in survival.”

  Kuro chuckled softly, his eyes flig back to the remaining partits. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not so na?ve anymore, isn’t it?” he mused, his voice carrying a rare note of somber uanding.

  Ibiki’s gaze flickered back to the students, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Don’t mistake their potential for strength, Kuro. The ones who will make it through aren’t always the loudest, or the bravest. Sometimes, it’s the ones who stay quiet the lo.”

  Kuro turned his attention back to Xero and Reika. “I’m aware.”

  A sileretched between them, ohat was filled with unspoken uanding. Despite their differences, Kuro and Ibiki both khe same thing: In this world, it wasn’t about guts or skill alo was about knowing when to strike, when to fall back, and when to let your silence do the talking. And as the tension in the room began to dissipate, both men were acutely aware of just how much was still at stake for the young partits—more than any of them could truly grasp in this moment.

  This versation wasn't just a casual exge between student and teacher; it served to inform other students about the realities of the world.

  Kuro allowed his gaze to rest on Ibiki one final time, his small, knowing smile returning. “I’ll be watg them. It’ll be iing to see who rises to the top.”

  Ibiki’s sharp, calg gaze met his. “You always do,” he said, his voice holding a note of finality that could mean anything.

  And in that moment, Kuro realized that this was just the beginning. The game had only just started. The real test wasn’t the ohey had just faced—it was what would e after, wheakes were raised, and the true battle for survival began.

  ---

  Just as the relief in the room began to settle, a deafening crash shattered the stillness—a figure burst through the window, sending shards of gss casg like glittering daggers to the floor. The sound echoed ominously off the walls, jolting everyone from their thoughts. Instinctively, every head soward the source of the tumult, their hearts rag as adrenaline surged through their veins.The intruder, silhouetted against the fading light of the day, stood in stark trast to the somber atmosphere that had enveloped the room following Kuro and Ibiki’s vo. The air seemed to thi with tension, and for a moment, time itself felt suspehe ued arrival radiated a chaotiergy that disrupted the fragile calm, leaving the students wide-eyed and breathless, caught between shod anticipation. What had started as a moment of refle was now transformed into a se charged with uainty, as the figure surveyed the room with an iy that promised nothihan upheaval.

  She was a tall woman, easily t over most of the room, with short, spiky hair that framed her fa a wild, untamed fashion. A mischievous gri the ers of her lips, ohat spoke of someone who found great amusement in causing chaos. Her fish armor g to her form, and her sharp, fident stride made it clear she was ner to authority—or dahere was an undeniable aura of and that ed around her like a cloak, and it immediately captured the attention of everyone in the room.

  “Alright, maggots!” she barked, her voiing across the room, loud and anding. It was a voice that carried a weight of its own, unyielding and brimming with energy. “The real fun starts now!” Her words rang in the air, a direct challeo the stillhat had begun to settle.

  Ibiki, who had been standing at the front, sighed deeply, his eyes closing for a brief moment as if preparing for something he had long anticipated. He pihe bridge of his nose, a sileure of exasperation. “Anko... could you at least wait until I’m finished?” His tone was weary but tinged with a familiarity that suggested this was far from the first time she had interrupted his carefully orchestrated moments.

  Anko Mitarashi, without missing a beat, fshed a grin that could only be described as unapologetio time for that, Ibiki!” she quipped, her tone ced with amusement. “These kids o know what they’re in for!” She strode into the ter of the room, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveyed the gathered partits.

  She turoward the group, her grin widening to an almost predatory degree. “gratutions on surviving Ibiki’s little mind game,” she said, her voice ced with an almost mog sweetness. “But don’t get too fortable. The sed phase of the in Exams is about to begin, and trust me, it’s a lot less b.”

  Her words hit the room like a thundercp, and a ripple of mixed excitement and apprehensiohrough the partits. The tension, which had only just begun to rex, fred back up, charged with a new sense of anticipation. The students exged wary looks, their minds scrambling to process what they had just heard. It was clear now that the road to being a in wouldn’t be a simple or straightforward one.

  Kuro, sensing the shift imosphere, leaoward Xero, his voice low but ced with intrigue. “Looks like things are about to get iing,” he remarked, a spark of amusement dang in his eyes.