I finished the questions with confidence, tuning out the anguished groans of other candidates being eliminated. The room was even emptier now. To my surprise, none of the familiar faces had been taken out yet.
A few minutes later, Kurenai's firm, clear voice cut through the silence.
"Time's up for the first 45 minutes! Put down your pencils! The proctors will collect your exams."
A quiet wave of relief rippled through the remaining candidates. The proctors began moving down the rows, collecting papers with deliberate, almost choreographed steps. Every footfall felt heavy, like it echoed with judgment.
One genin in front of me could barely stop his hand from shaking as he handed over his test. Another, farther back, was trembling so much that his pencil slipped off the desk as he tried to set it down.
When the proctor reached me, I handed over my paper without hesitation. Our eyes met for a brief second. He said nothing, just took the paper, stacked it with the others, and moved on. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. I wanted to believe that was a good sign... or at least not a bad one.
Kurenai stood motionless at the center of the room, her expression unchanged. I was getting anxious, the tenth question still hadn't come.
Fortunately, Kurenai doesn't look like she is planning to drag out the wait.
"Now it's time for the tenth and final question!" She announced.
All eyes turned toward her, full of anticipation. The tension in the room was almost tangible.
"This question will be based on a team decision." She continued to speak, her voice calm but carrying enough authority to make everyone hold their breath.
As soon as she said "team decision," I could feel a silent wave of relief wash over several genin. They were probably thinking this meant they could talk it through… maybe even agree on something comfortable.
Naive.
I didn't allow myself the same relief. There had to be a catch.
"If any of you gives an incorrect answer..." she paused deliberately. "all previous scores will be nullified… and your entire team will be eliminated immediately."
A faint ripple of gasps and hushed whispers filled the room.
Yeah… just like Ibiki's tenth question. This is the real test. Everything else was just the warm-up.
The proctors began moving again. In complete silence, they placed in front of each candidate a small, dark wooden box. When I opened mine, I found a translucent marble resting on black cushions — about the size of a glass bead. It shimmered faintly under the light, as if it were waiting for something… or someone.
Then, another group of proctors unsealed a storage scroll with a puff of smoke, summoning a large table behind Kurenai. On it there were cards with each candidate's number and the numbers of their respective teammates.
"Here's the scenario: you are the team leader. After completing a critical infiltration mission, your squad is retreating with valuable information. However, enemies are closing in and will catch up soon." Kurenai began, laying out the context of the question.
Her words seemed to take shape in everyone's mind, painting the scene with startling clarity.
"It is impossible for all three of you to escape. One team member must stay behind to delay the enemy, ensuring the other two get away with the intel. That person must touch their sphere and infuse it with chakra. The sphere will glow red."
My eyes drifted back to the marble. It was beautiful… almost mesmerizing. But now, it seemed heavier than its size could possibly suggest.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some genin exchanging nervous glances. Their expressions said what they weren't allowed to say aloud.
"You will have one minute to make your decision. No verbal communication is allowed. At the end of the time, all boxes must be closed and placed on the table with your candidate number." She gestured to the table behind her before continuing.
"At my signal, the boxes will be opened and the chosen marble will glow red. At least one team member must infuse their chakra. If no one does, the entire team will be disqualified."
For a moment, Kurenai smiled. But it wasn't a comforting smile. It was serene… and cruel. Like she knew exactly what this test would do to everyone in the room.
"Oh, and one last thing…" She added, as if it were a mere afterthought. "The teammate who chooses to stay behind will be eliminated. But the team will be allowed to move on to the next stage of the exam."
It was like a bomb had exploded inside the room.
A boy a few seats away from me nearly fell out of his chair. The already tense atmosphere shifted into a quiet panic.
So this was it. The real tenth question.
The same brutal logic behind Ibiki's exam, but in some ways, even crueler when you really think about it.
Ibiki played on the fear of the future. He tested the mind with the threat of permanent failure. He made you doubt your own courage, your perseverance. Many gave up, unable to bear the weight of possibly never getting another chance.
He gave people a choice: walk away and try again one day, or risk everything and potentially lose the right to ever try again.
Heavy, yes — but different from what we were facing now. This time, we were forced to answer the question. And Kurenai wasn't toying with our fear of failure, she was playing with something far more personal: guilt.
She made us fear the responsibility of deciding who would be sacrificed. She cast us in the role of leaders, gave us the power to choose… and then reminded us that this choice came with real consequences.
She planted the seed of doubt and then forced us to act. The ideal answer would be for no one to infuse their chakra into the sphere. But if that happened, our entire team would be eliminated. She had made that perfectly clear.
And worst of all, we couldn't talk. We couldn't come up with a strategy together. We could only rely on fleeting glances, barely perceptible signals. Only a few seconds had passed, and I could already feel the weight of those silent stares building throughout the room.
Some were obvious. A genin from Amegakure, sitting close to his teammates, locked eyes with them, and under the pressure, I saw the exact moment he gave in. He touched the sphere, infused it with chakra, and closed the box.
That was the weight of pressure. And the worst part? If you were sitting far from your teammates, you couldn't even exchange looks. You had to believe that one of them would be willing to sacrifice themselves for you, and let's be honest. No one wants to be the one who stays behind.
And worse than all of that… was the part of me that thought this was brilliant.
Because on the battlefield, there's no time to discuss.
Because real leaders make hard choices.
And because sometimes… sacrificing one is what saves the rest.
My hands were still on the desk, unmoving, but my chest was rising and falling faster than I wanted to admit.
But at the same time… something felt off. That mindset, sacrificing one to save many might be normal in other villages, but this is Konoha.
Ibiki's question had been a trap. The real test wasn't about knowing the answers. It was about refusing to give up.
Who stayed until the end, even without answering a single question, passed. Because it meant they wouldn't abandon a mission.
Sure, the Fourth Hokage sacrificed himself to save the village. The Second Hokage gave his life to protect the Third and his students. But I also remember Kakashi's famous words. Those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.
So maybe… maybe this was a trap too?
Maybe the real question wasn't: "Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for your team?" But instead: "Can you trust your team even under pressure?"
I bit my lip, uncertain.
I could almost hear the imaginary tick-tock of a clock in the middle of the room, counting down the seconds like it was at the center of the world.
I looked up at Jimei, the closest to me. To my surprise, he wasn't even looking back. The box in front of him was already closed, and he looked… confident.
Had he sacrificed himself? Or had he just closed it without even considering it?
Damn it... Why this is so hard?
Then I remembered what Kurenai said when she explained the scenario: I'm the leader of the team…
And if this was the wrong choice… Screw it!
I still believed it is the right answer. And I need to trust that Natsu and Jimei will also get the right answer.
I reached out toward the box in front of me, a surge of determination coursing through my body…