"Before we begin the third round of the Chūnin Exams, there's something I need to explain," the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, said as he exhaled a plume of smoke from his pipe. His calm eyes swept over the assembled genin. "Specifically, the true purpose of this exam."
"The true purpose?" Several genin furrowed their brows, exchanging puzzled glances.
"You've probably heard the official reason: 'to promote peace and friendship between the nations, and improve the overall quality of ninja,'" Hiruzen said evenly, his gaze passing over the crowd. "But I don't want you to misunderstand what that really means."
He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his next words settle in. "To put it bluntly… this exam is a substitute for war."
The genin stirred. A quiet murmur rippled through the group. Hiruzen continued, unshaken.
"Look back through history. Many of today's allied nations were once bitter enemies. The Chūnin Exams exist so that the major villages can compare their strength without the need for open conflict, sparing both lives and resources."
Naruto blinked in confusion. "Wait, what?! I thought this was just a promotion test for Chūnin!"
"It is," Hiruzen said, tapping the end of his pipe lightly, "But it is also much more. For all of you—young shinobi of your respective villages—this is where you represent your homeland and your Hidden Village. This is where you fight… carrying your country's pride on your back."
That silenced the crowd. Even Ino, who had been brimming with confidence earlier, looked uneasy. "Pride of the country and the village?" she murmured.
"The candidates who've made it this far," Hiruzen continued gravely, "are the elite among your peers. In the next stage, the matches will be observed by many—powerful feudal lords, influential figures, potential clients from across the nations. The heads of every participating village will also be watching."
He straightened slightly.
"When those clients decide which village to hire for missions, they're judging based on one thing: power. They want to know which village produces the most capable ninja. And your performance in this exam will become a reference point for the missions your village receives in the future."
He allowed a moment for that to sink in, then added, "What's more, the results of this exam let each nation understand the balance of power. They'll know whether to prepare for war—or hold their peace."
That last line drew a long silence.
"But… why does that mean we have to fight like it's life or death?" Kiba barked, clenching his fists. "I mean, we just came here to get promoted, right? We're not soldiers!"
Hiruzen turned toward him, his voice calm and cold. "A nation's strength is its village. A village's strength is its shinobi. And a shinobi's true strength… only shows when facing real danger."
He let that sink in before adding, "This exam isn't a classroom test. It's a battlefield where you risk your lives—and your village's reputation. For the world to see."
His pipe clicked softly against his teeth. "So now… before the third round begins, I'll ask you one final question."
He paused and looked at each face in the crowd. "Are you ready?"
The true purpose of the third exam was clear: it was about perception, about performance. In the eyes of the visiting daimyō, lords, and other high-ranking observers, the matches needed to be short, sharp, and unforgettable.
That's why the format had been chosen: one-on-one combat. There was no better way to showcase a ninja's individual skill. Complex missions might be difficult to appreciate for civilians, but a head-to-head battle? That was something even the most uninformed spectator could understand.
And so, just like in the original Chūnin Exams, the remaining genin—despite surviving the brutal second round—would now face a preliminary round, a high-stakes elimination designed to narrow down the participants to a select few worthy of standing before the world.
"Alright then…" said Hayate Gekkō, coughing softly as he stepped forward. His pale face and raspy voice were unmistakable. "If any of you are injured or not feeling well… or, after hearing what the Hokage just said, don't feel ready to continue—please step forward now."
He didn't need to explain. Every genin present had endured the brutal chaos of the Forest of Death. They understood exactly what kind of battles awaited them next.
"We'll be starting the preliminaries shortly," Hayate added, giving a small cough into his fist.
"Wait—we're starting right now?!" Sakura gasped. Her gaze shifted across the group. Team 10 and Team 8 looked well-rested after several days in the tower, but many others—like her own teammate—weren't so lucky.
"But we just made it through the forest…" she said, hesitant. "Don't we get time to recover?"
"You've graduated from the Academy," Hayate said bluntly, cutting her off. "You're no longer students under constant supervision. The second round gave you all an equal starting point. After that, how quickly you got here was your own responsibility."
His tone was unapologetic. Sakura shrank back a little, lips trembling. But her eyes darted toward Sasuke beside her—and the concern on her face only deepened.
Sasuke was clearly in pain. He clutched at his left shoulder, just where the Heaven Curse Mark burned beneath his collar. Every small movement contorted his face with agony.
If they didn't have time to heal… if the preliminaries started now…
Sakura gritted her teeth. She glanced between Hayate and Sasuke, then steeled herself. She opened her mouth to speak—to request Sasuke be allowed to withdraw for medical reasons.
But before she could say anything, a cold hand wrapped around hers.
Startled, she turned—only to meet Sasuke's obsidian eyes.
"Don't," he whispered, his voice low and close to her ear. "Don't say a word about my injury. Don't get involved."
"Why are you being so stubborn?" she asked, her voice shaking—not because of how close he was, but out of raw worry. "I'm scared, Sasuke. I don't want to see you like this anymore. Please… for me… withdraw."
"Shut up," Sasuke growled under his breath. "I told you… I'm a man burdened by vengeance. I'm the last Uchiha."
He turned away, his voice low and grim. "I don't care about becoming a Chūnin. All I want… is to prove how strong I've become."
His eyes scanned the crowd—and stopped on one person.
Shikamaru.
"I want to fight these people. I want to prove all my training wasn't for nothing. I need to know I'm getting closer to avenging my clan…"
Naruto, nearby, stared at Sasuke's grim expression—eyes wide. Even Sakura was speechless as she watched the sorrow and hatred etched into Sasuke's features.
"There's no better stage than this," Sasuke muttered, his voice filled with conviction. "And I'll show them—Konoha, the whole ninja world—that the Uchiha haven't faded. Even if I'm the only one left…"
He clenched his fist, the curse mark flaring. "I'm not someone just anyone can defeat."
Across the room, a pair of cold, calculating eyes narrowed as they observed Sasuke—eyes hidden behind rounded glasses.
It was Kabuto Yakushi's jōnin-sensei. Or at least… that was the disguise.
In truth, it was Orochimaru.
"So he's already resisting the Curse Mark?" Orochimaru mused internally, licking his lips behind closed teeth. "What a magnificent willpower… he's exceeded my expectations."
But then, his gaze drifted slightly—to Shikamaru Nara, who stood calmly and alert, surveying the scene with quiet insight.
"That's him," Orochimaru thought, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. "The one who helped kill Kawakami—a minor pawn, but no less dangerous. This one… he's interesting."
The danger of a traitor like Orochimaru wasn't just their skills or ambition—it was their knowledge. As one of the Legendary Sannin and a former high-ranking shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, Orochimaru had connections, influence, and an extensive web of informants still embedded within the village.
He already knew everything that had happened between Shikamaru's team and Kawakami. And he was watching closely.