Surprise, disdain, admiration, approval, contemplation…
Shikamaru observed the expressions of the examinees around him—some amazed, some skeptical, others impressed or even respectful.
Even many of the proctors from the Chūnin Exam Committee, who were quietly watching from the corners, had subtle shifts in their demeanor.
The oppressive tension that had been carefully cultivated by Morino Ibiki's psychological tactics was now gone—completely dispersed by Naruto's bold declaration.
All eyes were now curiously studying the seemingly unremarkable, short Konoha Genin who had spoken those defiant words.
That was Naruto.
The unshakable charisma unique to the protagonist of the original story.
In canon, Naruto had managed to win over person after person—not just through luck, but because of his personality. He was reckless, sure, but that recklessness often turned into resolve, and in time, his determination outshone nearly all of his peers in Konoha.
At the end of the day, someone like Orochimaru or Danzō could only ever gain a few die-hard followers—loyal, perhaps, but driven by fear or manipulation.
To the majority, such leaders were dangerous and untrustworthy.
A true leader needed more than ruthless tactics or strategic brilliance.
They needed charisma—an intangible quality that earned trust and comfort from the people around them.
In other words, a true leader is someone who can create shared value for the group.
Blind loyalty and self-sacrificing subordinates are rare and unreliable.
If a leader expects total devotion without offering support, they breed resentment.
As Mencius once told King Xuan of Qi:
"If the ruler treats his subjects like hands and feet, the subjects will treat him like their heart and soul.
If he treats them like dogs and horses, they will treat him like strangers.
If he treats them like dirt and weeds, they will treat him like enemies."
Even a monarch should never become so self-absorbed.
Humans are the most complex of creatures—and the hardest to control.
Take Kimimaro, for example. He followed Orochimaru only because that acknowledgment gave his life meaning.
Danzō? Even Sai, raised and conditioned under him from childhood, couldn't be fully relied on.
That alone speaks volumes.
His entire approach was outdated in today's shinobi world.
Ninja are an elite warrior class—trained and educated to think, to lead, and to act independently. They are not ignorant cannon fodder nor naive greenhouse flowers.
A leader of ninja cannot rule through mystery, intimidation, or militarism alone.
Shikamaru had grasped all of this within just a few minutes—watching Naruto stand tall had sparked a dozen deeper realizations.
These weren't the thoughts of a child. They were shaped by years of quiet observation in the shinobi world.
He respected Orochimaru's obsession with mastery over jutsu, and Danzō's stubborn endurance in old age.
But in the end, both had died without ever achieving their dream of becoming Hokage.
As someone whose own goal was the Hokage title, Shikamaru believed that following in their footsteps would be a dead end.
Even in his own team, Ino and Chōji listened to him not because of orders or hierarchy, but because his decisions consistently brought them real benefit.
He never acted high and mighty.
And that's what made them follow him.
Ibiki, a master of human psychology, had of course noticed the dramatic shift in the exam room atmosphere following Naruto's outburst.
With folded arms and a serious face, he stared at Naruto, who glared defiantly back.
Then—suddenly—the lines of his face softened.
The surrounding proctors from Konoha, once stone-faced, began to smile faintly.
"You made a good choice," Ibiki said with a rare grin.
But for the Genin, who had formed a deep impression of him as a cruel and stern man, that smile was… unsettling. Almost mocking.
"Therefore, all examinees who remain…"
Everyone, including Naruto, held their breath—awaiting the verdict to what had been framed as a life-altering gamble.
"…I hereby declare that you've all passed the first stage of the Chūnin Exams."
Ibiki's announcement did not bring relief—instead, it triggered confusion and disbelief.
"What do you mean? We passed just like that?"
"What happened to the tenth question? Why didn't we get to answer it!?"
Ino, seated near the front, was the first to speak up.
Ibiki chuckled.
"There was never a real tenth question," he admitted, casting off the previous air of cold authority. "Or rather—that choice itself was the tenth question."
Sakura frowned.
"But then what about the nine questions before it?"
She had answered them on her own and hadn't stopped to think too deeply about the hidden meanings within the test structure.
"Those were to evaluate your information-gathering skills," Ibiki explained, this time in a more patient tone. "The key part of this exam was the team-based scoring system. It was designed to make you worry about dragging your teammates down."
"The questions themselves were extremely difficult. So difficult, in fact, that most of you had no option but to try cheating. That's what this exam was really about—testing your ability to gather intel without getting caught."
He then pointed to two candidates still seated in the room, both wearing Konoha forehead protectors.
"They were Chūnin I planted among you—your intel sources."
"Anyone who failed to cheat properly… got eliminated. It was for their own good."
He raised his hands and slowly removed his headband.
"As Genin, your jobs are simple and low-risk. Even in war, you're rarely targeted for intel. But once you become Chūnin…"
The sight that followed caused an audible gasp in the room—especially from the more sensitive female shinobi like Ino and Sakura.
Burn marks, drill scars, gashes, bruises—Ibiki's scalp was covered in horrific, brutal wounds.
The few scars on his face were nothing in comparison.
Even Shikamaru flinched slightly.
To survive that kind of torture—and still return to duty as a ninja—this guy's terrifying.
Ibiki continued.
"For a ninja, information can be even more important than your life. You will often risk everything to acquire it."
"And when that intel is buried deep within enemy lines… if you're discovered, then you become their source of information. You know what happens next."
Naruto instinctively shivered at the thought of suffering the same fate—his gaze fell back on Ibiki just in time to see the man retying his headband.
"That's why you must remember this."
"If you make a mistake—it's not just you who suffers. Your comrades, even your village, may pay the price."
"As a Chūnin, you must grow stronger, more mature—not just for yourself, but for the sake of those you lead and those you protect."
The room fell into silence.
After a pause, Temari hesitantly raised her hand.
"I still don't fully understand the point of that last question," she said.
Ibiki's expression turned solemn.
"That question—was the true core of this exam. It was a test of courage."
"The choice to take or not take the tenth question was the same as choosing to face danger or run away. A shinobi must carry out missions, even if they are dangerous—even if it means risking their lives."
"Because that information might be the key to victory in a war—it might be the foundation for your village's survival."
He scanned the room, making sure every single examinee was listening.
"As a Chūnin, you are a team leader. You are expected to instill courage and resolve in your squad."
"And if you hesitate at critical moments—if you can't take that leap—then you have no right to lead others. You do not have what it takes to be a Chūnin."
"By choosing to answer the tenth question, you've proven your resolve. That's why I can say confidently: You've passed the first stage."
A smile slowly crept back onto his face.
"The written exam is over. I hope you'll all do your best to prepare for the next phase…"
Suddenly—
Ibiki tensed and glanced toward the classroom window.
A shadow rapidly approached.
CRASH!
The window shattered as something burst through the glass and flew into the classroom at high speed.
Ibiki didn't move. He already knew who it was.
The examinees, however, panicked—many had just begun to relax, only to be thrown into chaos again.
Is this the next test already!?
The black shadow hit the front of the room—and suddenly unfurled into a massive black banner.
Two kunai shot out from the center, anchoring the top corners to the ceiling with precision.
Bold red characters appeared across the cloth:
Second Exam Proctor – Mitarashi Anko
PS: Read Advance Chapters at https://www.patreon.com/c/ReadJin