Bully Lord In the Chunin Exam (NarutoVerse)

From somewhere in the room, a quiet sob broke the silence, followed by the shuffling of yet another participant surrendering to the invisible weight pressing on their shoulders. The sound grated on Naruto's ears. 

*Quitters,* he thought bitterly. 

At the edge of his vision, he noticed Hinata trembling, her eyes darting toward the door. For a moment, it looked like she might stand up, but then she glanced at Naruto, her expression softening as if drawing strength from his determination. Naruto caught her gaze and gave her a faint, confident grin—one that said, "We've got this." 

Elsewhere, Sasuke sat like a stone statue, arms folded and chin tilted in confidence, as if Ibiki's threats were nothing more than background noise. Beside him, Sakura's brow creased with worry, her pencil paused midair, but she wasn't budging either. 

And then there was Xero, still doodling in the back. If he'd felt any fear, he certainly didn't show it. His pen sketched a dramatic scene of Ibiki as a monstrous ogre devouring helpless ninjas, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. If subtle defiance were an art form, Xero was its undisputed master. 

Ibiki noticed the laughter bubbling in the corner of the room and started toward Xero's desk, his boots pounding against the wooden floor. The soft rhythm of his footsteps silenced the room, leaving nothing but the sound of breath held collectively as the proctor approached. 

Xero stopped doodling immediately, shoving his pencil under the paper as though it might hide his crimes. Ibiki loomed over him like a vengeful specter, his expression unreadable. For an agonizing moment, Xero thought the hammer would fall, but instead, Ibiki turned his head just slightly and growled, "Time's running out, brat. I suggest you stop playing games." 

"Yes, sir," Xero muttered, sinking deeper into his chair as Ibiki stalked away, leaving a trail of dread in his wake. 

Naruto watched the whole exchange with gritted teeth, his heart pounding in defiance. The sheer unfairness of it all gnawed at him. These questions weren't just difficult—they were impossible for someone like him. He wasn't book-smart like Sakura or naturally sharp like Sasuke. He was just… Naruto. And yet, something about the proctor's challenge lit a fire in him, one that refused to be extinguished. 

*They're trying to weed us out,* he realized. *This is all a trick to see who can take the pressure.* 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and glaring at his untouched paper as though it were his greatest enemy. The silence was maddening, punctuated only by the ticking clock on the wall, each *tick-tock* a cruel reminder of time slipping away. 

Ibiki spoke again, his voice cutting through the air like a kunai. "For those of you still sitting here, I commend your determination. But don't forget—failure has its price. If you lack the resolve to endure this now, you have no place as a chunin." 

Another chair scraped against the floor, its sharp screech echoing through the room. The candidate who stood looked broken, their shoulders slumped and face pale as they trudged toward the door. 

Naruto's jaw clenched. He could feel his own resolve hardening, like steel tempered in a forge. He wasn't the smartest or the strongest, but he *would* be the most stubborn. He thought of his dream, the faces of everyone in the village who doubted him, and the promise he'd made to himself to never give up. 

Ibiki's gaze landed on him for a fraction of a second, those dark, piercing eyes like twin drills boring into his soul. Naruto met the stare head-on, refusing to look away. 

"Good," Ibiki murmured, almost too quietly to hear, before moving on. 

Around him, the room felt heavier than ever, but Naruto sat up straighter, his heart pounding with a newfound resolve. 

*Bring it on,* he thought. *I'll fight through whatever you throw at me. I'm not going anywhere, believe it.* 

The clock continued to tick, but for Naruto, it wasn't a countdown to failure. It was a countdown to proving them all wrong. 

---

Kuro's pencil paused completely now, held lightly between his fingers as though he had all the time in the world. His sharp eyes darted from team to team, watching the intricate, almost artistic way some participants bent the rules without breaking them outright. To most, the room was a quiet sea of anxious students scratching answers onto their papers, but to Kuro, it was alive with hidden currents—each one a testament to the ingenuity of desperate minds. 

At the far corner, a student pretended to drop his pen, the tiny motion pulling the attention of his teammate, who mirrored the movement as if retrieving their own. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Kuro recognized it for what it was: a carefully coded exchange of information. Elsewhere, two students tapped faint rhythms against their desks—completely meaningless to anyone listening, unless, of course, they knew the cipher. 

Kuro smirked. *Cheating isn't a failure here—it's a skill.* 

His gaze settled once more on Sasuke, whose Sharingan burned faintly crimson, pupils spinning lazily like a predator toying with its prey. Sasuke's eyes locked onto a student two rows ahead, his movements synchronized perfectly, like a puppet and its master. The other student had no idea they were unwittingly sharing their answers, but Kuro caught it immediately. 

"Clever," Kuro murmured, the word slipping out as a mix of genuine admiration and amusement. He tilted his head slightly, watching Sasuke's pencil scratch methodically against his paper. *Not perfect, though,* he thought. *Too noticeable if someone's paying attention.* 

Then there was Hinata. Kuro's eyes flickered to her just in time to see the faint veins swell around her temples—her Byakugan now active. She scanned the surrounding papers with an efficiency that bordered on grace, her expression composed, betraying no anxiety or guilt. It wasn't flashy like Sasuke's method, nor did it draw attention. It was precise, quiet, and far more impressive in its subtlety. 

*Smart girl,* Kuro thought approvingly, though he allowed no hint of praise to show on his face. 

His wandering gaze finally found Naruto, and Kuro nearly snorted aloud. The blond ninja was a whirlwind of frustration and fidgeting, his pencil hovering hopelessly over his paper like it might spontaneously provide answers. Naruto's muttered curses and exaggerated sighs were enough to draw glares from the proctors, but he didn't seem to care. Every few seconds, Naruto glanced around furtively, as if hoping inspiration—or answers—might magically appear in thin air.