Genma rolled his shoulders once, senbon tilting back to its usual lazy angle as he turned toward the competitor balcony.
"Alright!" he called out, voice cutting through the fading cheers. "That's one match down."
He lifted a hand.
"Next up—"
He paused, glancing briefly toward the Hokage's viewing platform, then cleared his throat.
"…before the next match, we'll be taking a short break," he declared.
The stadium exploded again but this time, in a different way.
"Eeeeeehhh?!"
"Right now?!"
"C'mon, we were just getting fired up!"
A wave of boos and groans rolled around the stands. A few snack sellers cheered quietly to themselves, already hoisting their baskets higher.
Genma's eye twitched.
"…You guys do realize I don't make the schedule, right?" he muttered under his breath, senbon bouncing once between his teeth.
Meanwhile, on the road leading up to the stadium…
The handsome Snow shinobi—no, forget that.
Obito Uchiha walked at his own pace, hands tucked into his pockets, messy hair lazily fluttering whenever the wind shifted.
It wasn't every day he let the world see his real, handsome face out in the open.
But just for today, on a whim, he'd decided to walk through Konoha without hiding it.
The roar from the arena rolled over the rooftops again, a little delayed but still loud enough to rattle windowpanes.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Break already, huh…" he murmured, lips quirking. "Guess I really did time it just right."
For a guy who was clearly in no hurry, his sense of timing was annoyingly perfect.
His footsteps came to a slow halt.
"…Hoh?"
Something had hooked him.
A familiar smell he liked very much drifted over to him.
The rich, smoky scent of grilled meat. The heavy bite of chili. The faint sweetness of glaze caramelizing over open flame.
His stomach gave a traitorous little grumble.
Obito sighed theatrically.
"Well, well… look at that," he drawled, turning his head toward a side street. "The real final exam… temptation."
A small street stall had been set up just off the main path—a metal grill smoking away, skewers lined up in neat rows, red sauce bubbling in a pot to the side.
A sign hung above the stall:
ULTRA SPICY HELL-SKEWERS
—Only for real shinobi!
The middle-aged stall owner was fanning the coals with one hand and wiping his forehead with the other, already drenched in sweat from standing in the heat.
"Step right up! Spicy skewers, special discount! If you cry, no refunds!" he called.
A couple of genin in flak vests were already regretting life choices at a nearby bench, faces bright red, gulping water like their lives depended on it.
"Wh-Why does it hurt twice? It's burning my tongue and my soul—!"
"M-My lips… I can't feel my lips…"
Obito's lips curved.
"…Interesting," he said lightly.
He changed direction without a second thought, feet carrying him straight toward the stall.
The vendor glanced up automatically.
"Welcome—oh?"
He blinked in surprise.
The newcomer was… not subtle.
Tall, lean, broad-shouldered. Messy black hair that somehow looked perfectly styled by pure luck. Dark shades hiding his eyes, the Snow Hidden Village headband tied carelessly around his upper arm like an accessory instead of proper gear.
Even the way he moved screamed "I know I'm cool and there's nothing you can do about it."
The stall owner straightened a little on reflex.
"Looking for something to eat before the next match, mister ninja?" he said, slipping into his best customer voice. "We've got the spiciest skewers in Konoha right here. Guaranteed to wake you up."
Obito tilted his head, considering.
"Mmm… sounds good,"
He stepped closer, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Give me the hottest you've got."
"No holding back. If I don't see at least three people faint just from the smell, I'm asking for a refund."
The vendor laughed.
"Oho, confident one, aren't you?" he said, already turning to the grill. "You say that now… don't cry later, alright?"
Behind Obito, a small knot of civilians had already started whispering.
"Is he seriously ordering the 'Hell Level' right off the bat…?"
"I really want to see him cry... he would look so cute."
The skewers sizzled as the vendor dipped them into the deep red sauce, then back over the flame until the glaze thickened and clung, little sparks of chili oil popping in the fire.
He handed over the first one carefully, like he was passing a lit explosive tag.
"All yours. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Obito accepted it easily, bringing it up to his lips.
For a second, he inhaled the scent—eyes hidden, expression unreadable behind the shades.
Then he took a bite.
Crunch.
The chili hit like a punch—heavy, aggressive, the kind of heat that grabbed your tongue and refused to let go.
"Mmm."
He closed his mouth slowly, savoring the taste.
A quiet, pleased sound slipped out of his throat.
"This is good," he said, genuine approval coloring his tone. "Nice burn. The kind that starts at the tongue and crawls all the way up to your brain. I like it."
He took another bite, this time tearing off a bigger chunk, chewing with obvious relish.
The vendor's mouth hung open. He'd been expecting the guy to burst into tears or at least turn bright red, but he looked completely fine.
"…Eh?"
One of the genin on the bench wheezed.
"H-Hey, that's the level that made my Jōnin-sensei cry…"
"You sure that guy's human…?"
"Maybe his acting skills are just that good?"
A faint sheen of sweat gathered at the Obito's temples, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.
He glanced at the vendor.
"You got anything hotter?" he asked casually.
The man sputtered.
"Hotter—?! That is the hottest!"
"Mm, shame," Obito said, unbothered. "Guess I'll have to make up the difference with quantity, then."
He held up two fingers.
"Five more. Hell Level. And something to drink… nothing too sweet. It'll ruin the aftertaste."
The vendor stared at him for a second, then barked out a laugh.
"Hah! Now that's what I like to hear!" he said, all hesitation gone. "Alright, alright, sit tight, Snow-san, I'll feed you properly!"
That sounds sus, but I'll let it slide for now, Obito thought, eyeing the seemingly innocent-looking guy.
As more skewers hit the grill, the man leaned his elbow casually on the stall counter, looking every bit like he was just killing time instead of casually devouring weapons-grade chili.
A very brave little kid shuffled up beside him, clutching a single skewer with both hands.
He stared up at Obito with wide eyes.
"Mister," the boy said seriously, "that one will make you cry. My dad was crying a lot too… then Mama said something I didn't really get, and he suddenly held it back."
Obito looked at the kid. Normally, he would've ignored a little Timmy like this—but today, he decided to humor him.
He put on a serious, "considering" expression.
"…Will it now?" he said, amused. "Then if I don't cry, what happens?"
The boy thought hard, cheeks puffing out.
"Then… then you're cool," he declared at last.
Obito blinked, actually stunned for a moment—then a genuine chuckle slipped out of him.
"Hmm. High stakes," he said. "Alright, I'll do my best to protect my reputation."
He took another big bite, eyes half-closing, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
The silence around him stretched.
But instead of the reaction everyone was expecting, he only had a little extra color on his cheeks and the completely content air of someone thoroughly enjoying himself.
The kid's jaw dropped.
"Whoa…"
"See?" Obito said lightly, tilting his head.
"Totally fine."
He reached over with his free hand and flicked the boy's forehead lightly—just enough to make him stumble back a step, eyes crossing for a second.
"Ow…!" the boy grumbled, but there was a tiny, awed grin tugging at his mouth now.
The vendor handed over the rest of the order and a drink.
"Here you go. You planning to watch the matches from the stands?" he asked. "Break'll be over soon."
Obito took the drink, rolling the cool cup between his fingers.
"Nah," he said, almost offhand. "I've got… closer seats."
The vendor couldn't make sense of that exchange, so he just assumed it was some friend of the guy who'd set it up for him.
--
The short break came to an end as Genma strolled back to the center of the arena, senbon back in its usual lazy angle.
He raised his hand.
"The next match—" his voice rang out clearly, "—Gaara of Sunagakure… versus Haku of the Snow Hidden Village."
Even he couldn't help but sober up a little as he said it.
Gaara was the son of the Fourth Kazekage—that alone demanded attention. On the other side was the Snow shinobi who had easily crushed his previous opponent without even seeming to go all-out.
Anyone with eyes could tell this match was going to be a spectacle. The buzz in the stadium surged back to full volume, excitement crackling in the air.
"Gaara…"
Both Temari and Kankurō glanced at their little brother. Gaara was already grinning menacingly, a twisted smile tugging at his lips.
They both felt a chill.
If he went berserk again, their carefully laid plans could be ruined before they even started.
"Oi, Gaara… don't forget what we—" Kankurō began.
Gaara didn't spare them a proper look.
His thoughts had already drifted back to that earlier exchange—the one that had dared to anger him.
Sand shifted faintly at his feet, reacting to his mood.
"I will kill him," Gaara thought coldly. The decision had already solidified in his mind.
Even if it got him disqualified.
Even if every single person here screamed about rules and fairness.
He would still kill him.
—
"Ohhh, so it's that sand gourd guy we met before! He looks hella strong, right, Sasuke?" Naruto asked from the spectator balcony, hands tucked behind his head, grin wide and unbothered.
"It depends…" Sasuke replied simply, offering nothing more.
Naruto squinted at him suspiciously.
"What does that even mean…? Don't tell me you just said that to sound cool again, huh!?" he demanded, eyes narrowing like he'd uncovered some deep, dark secret.
"Stop bothering him, Naruto."
On reflex, Sakura's hand started to rise—fully prepared to smack Naruto in the back of the head.
Then she froze mid-motion, eyes darting sideways.
…Right. She almost forgot.
Naruto's mom was sitting not too far away.
Sakura slowly, carefully lowered her hand.
"…I'll let you off this time," she muttered under her breath.
"Hah? What was that?" Naruto asked, confused... completely unaware he'd just survived another totally unfair beating.
"Nothing!"
—
"Haku… it's your turn. Be sure to smack him around a lot," Karin said bluntly, arms crossed as she stared down at the arena.
She didn't care who Gaara was supposed to be. All she remembered was him chasing them earlier—at a time when they absolutely did not have the mood or patience for a confrontation.
Karin still hadn't forgiven that.
"…I'll try my best, Karin-chan," Haku said, a helpless smile tugging at his lips.
He knew she wasn't going to let that incident go any time soon, so he could only accept it and nod.
"Good luck, Haku-san," Hinata said softly from the side, hands clasped together as she cheered him on.
"Thank you, Hinata-chan," Haku replied gently.
Just as he was about to step away, Kimimaro spoke up as well—offering his own version of encouragement in his completely unique way.
"Don't worry," Kimimaro said calmly, eyes half-lidded. "Even if you kill him… nothing will happen to any of us. I promise."
"…"
Haku's smile wavered.
"Kimimaro-kun, I appreciate your concern, but…"
He wanted to say, it's not that serious, that this was still an official exam inside Konoha, not a battlefield drenched in blood.
In the end, he swallowed the words back, simply giving Kimimaro a silent nod before heading toward the stairs.
Kimimaro nodded in satisfaction, as if Haku's silence was full agreement.
In his mind, he was already calmly considering who he would have to take down first if things escalated—who needed to be eliminated in what order to ensure they could all leave this village alive once they decided to make their move.
Up on the Kage balcony, the noise of the crowd rolled in like a steady tide.
Hiruzen watched the two names hanging over the arena—Gaara and Haku—then let his gaze slide sideways to the "Kazekage" seated beside him.
"…It seems the next match is your son's, Kazekage-dono," he said mildly, pipe resting between his fingers. "The eyes of the village will be on him."
Under the veil, Orochimaru's lips curved faintly.
"Yes," he replied, voice carrying the rough, steady tone of the Fourth Kazekage. "Gaara will not disappoint me."
Golden eyes gleamed in the shadow of the cloth.
"I am proud of him," he went on. "You'll see it for yourself soon enough, Hokage-dono. His power… will surely surprise you."
Hiruzen let out a small, thoughtful hum, eyes drifting back toward the boy with the gourd now stepping toward the railing.
"…I look forward to it," he said quietly.
His gaze moved briefly to the Snow box, where Haku had begun walking toward the stairs with calm, unhurried steps.
"A child bearing the weight of a village… and another carrying an equally powerful banner," Hiruzen murmured to himself, eyes softening.
"These children… each of them carries a strength of their own. The future of this world really is in their hands."
--
"…So this is the kid Naruto kept buzzing in my ears about all the time… Haku, was it?" Kushina muttered to herself, leaning forward a little. "Looks… really beautiful?"
She squinted, studying the figure more carefully, but something still felt off.
When she'd first heard Naruto go on and on, she'd just brushed it off. But the more he talked, the more a certain terrifying suspicion had started to grow.
Was her Naruto… actually having a crush?
And then she heard which village Haku belonged to—and her heart skipped a beat.
The Snow Hidden Village.
"That guy… it's been a while since he showed his face," Kushina thought, eyes narrowing. "Is he really that busy… or is he off having fun with some other woman?"
With his stupidly high libido, it wasn't hard to imagine. A guy like that never seemed satisfied.
Maybe right now he's happily rolling around in some woman's bed—
"Damn it… I hope you die on her stomach, you bastard…" she muttered viciously under her breath.
A dark aura billowed out from her so intensely that several nearby spectators shivered and edged their position a little farther away without even knowing why.
"Umm, is this seat free?" a voice asked right beside her.
Still deep in her resentment spiral, Kushina didn't even look, just waved a hand dismissively.
"Yeah, whatever…"
The next time he shows up, I'm ignoring him for an hour… she fumed inwardly.
She bit her lip, struggling with herself.
…Thirty minutes… uhh… ten minutes… I'm definitely ignoring him for a full ten minutes.
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