"The Chūnin Exams, huh? Sounds fun. We're in."
"Some so-called 'grand plan'? Hah! Who cares—let's just go watch the chaos. It's not our problem anyway. Besides, if our village skips it, that'd be a disgrace."
"Konoha's a circus these days. Their former Hokage's disciples and old council members are all plotting against their own village. That alone's worth the ticket. I wouldn't miss this show for the world."
"I just want to see if Uzumaki Naruto—the so-called prodigy of this generation—can hold back the storm when it finally hits Konoha."
"Heh… Naruto. I'd love another fight with that brat."
Weeks passed.
Confirmations rolled in one by one.
All four great villages—Sunagakure, Kirigakure, Kumogakure, and even the silent Iwagakure—had officially agreed to participate.
What was once just another local Chūnin Exam had now evolved into the most anticipated event of the year.
Konoha was in overdrive.
Exam arenas were being reconstructed. New routes for security and crowd control were established. The examiners debated endlessly over the written tests and the format of the second stage.
Every Jōnin was pulled into service—no more lazy missions or long naps.
The entire village buzzed with tension and purpose.
Well, except for the occasional wail of suffering coming from the training grounds. Those screams, courtesy of Naruto's "hell camps," added a bizarre kind of cheer to Konoha's daily grind.
Sunagakure — land of endless desert winds.
Fourth Kazekage Rasa stood with his guards as Orochimaru, pale and grinning, approached like a shadow sliding across the sand.
"Orochimaru," Rasa said coldly. "Why summon me here?"
Orochimaru's snake-like tongue flicked against his lips. "I merely wanted to discuss… a proposal with you, Lord Kazekage. But—" His yellow eyes flicked toward the nearby guards. "Perhaps somewhere more private."
At Rasa's nod, his guards withdrew to a safe distance, leaving the two alone amid the shifting dunes.
Orochimaru's smile widened. "I'll be blunt. I have a plan. I'd like your cooperation."
"What plan?" Rasa asked, his tone clipped.
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with madness. "The Konoha Destruction Plan."
He said it slowly, savoring each word.
Rasa's expression didn't twitch—but his pupils narrowed.
He'd heard whispers already: Danzo and Orochimaru, both exiled from Konoha, scheming revenge. It wasn't exactly a secret among high-ranking shinobi.
Still, hearing it directly was something else.
"I'm not interested."
Orochimaru chuckled. "Oh? Not even a little?"
"Don't provoke me," Rasa replied flatly. "Konoha today isn't the weak village it was years ago. It's overflowing with monsters. Even you wouldn't last long. Dragging Sunagakure into your vendetta would make us nothing but cannon fodder."
He snorted. "Dream on."
Orochimaru's grin faltered for an instant before turning sharp again.
"It seems," he hissed, "that your defeat at Uzumaki Naruto's hands broke more than your pride. You've lost your nerve."
That hit a nerve.
Rasa's jaw clenched. He wanted to strike, but restrained himself. He was afraid—afraid of that blond demon who had humiliated him before the entire ninja world.
"I see…" Orochimaru's voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Then perhaps this will change your mind. Kirigakure, Kumogakure, and Iwagakure have already agreed to join my plan."
Rasa's expression finally cracked.
The alliance between Suna and Konoha had always been one of convenience. And in the shinobi world, convenience was fragile. Loyalty meant nothing when opportunity came knocking.
If the others were truly in…
Orochimaru's smile turned serpentine. "You should count yourself lucky, Lord Kazekage. For once, fate is giving you a chance to pick the winning side."
The wind howled, and sand swirled between them, obscuring their faces.
No one knew what Rasa decided that day. But when they parted, the air reeked of conspiracy.
Amegakure — the Village Hidden by Rain.
"Orochimaru's moving again," Konan said quietly, glancing toward Pain. "Rumor is he's planning to strike Konoha during the exams. Do we intervene?"
Pain didn't open his eyes. "No."
He sat cross-legged, silent as stone.
"The Five Kage will all be present," he continued. "We don't yet have the power to challenge them. Acting now would be a waste."
The Akatsuki was still young—fragmented, unsteady. Orochimaru's defection had weakened them, and many of their members were still building strength.
Deidara from Iwa. Sasori of the Red Sand. Kakuzu from Taki. Jūzō from the Mist. All powerful, yes—but not enough to take on the five great villages at once.
Until the organization reached its full might, patience was their greatest weapon.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the same rainy village, two figures stood in quiet conversation.
Uchiha Obito adjusted his orange spiral mask. "So, Orochimaru's planning to crash Konoha's little festival," he muttered. "Heh. Let him. I'm not getting involved."
Zetsu, half-white and half-black, smiled faintly beneath his pitcher-plant cloak. "Oh? You're not curious to see it up close?"
Obito scoffed. "Curious, yes. Suicidal, no. That Red Sun freak, Kira, is still somewhere out there. I've got no interest in running into him again."
He crossed his arms. "I'll bide my time. There's something else I'm after."
Zetsu tilted his head. "The Reanimation Jutsu, right?"
Obito's single Sharingan glowed crimson. "Exactly. Once I have that forbidden technique, I'll bring back Madara. Then I'll summon every Kage in history—First Hokage, Second—and turn them all loose. Let's see anyone stop that."
He laughed quietly, the sound dark and humorless.
Zetsu chuckled along, eyes gleaming. "I wonder," he mused, "if that jutsu could even bring back the Sage of Six Paths. Or his sons—Indra and Asura. That would be fascinating."
The two figures disappeared into the rain, leaving only ripples in a puddle.
And across the world, every village, every shadow organization, every wanderer was talking about the same thing—
The Chūnin Exams.
Konoha's upcoming tournament had become more than just a test for young ninja.
It was a stage.
A trap.
A spark waiting to ignite the entire ninja world.
And in every corner—from the sands of Suna to the storms of Ame—eyes were turning toward one man.
Uzumaki Naruto.
The boy who had become a storm himself.
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