The morning of the exams arrived wrapped in a cold, gray drizzle that did nothing to lift the oppressive weight of anxiety hanging over the Academy. Students huddled in the main hall, voices hushed, faces pale. Kenji found a spot slightly apart from the clusters, his hand instinctively resting on the pouch at his hip. Inside, his carefully prepared tags felt like loaded dice, their potential calibrated to a specific, hopefully believable outcome.
The written exam came first. The questions—history, shinobi ethics, tactical scenarios, properties of medicinal herbs—seemed to stare back at him. For Kenji, it was less a test of recall and more an exercise in strategic omission. He could see the runic underpinnings of every concept, the true answers almost glowing on the page. The challenge wasn't finding the right answer; it was choosing the right amount of right.
He moved through the paper with deliberate care. For questions about the Nidaime Hokage's mastery of Water Style, he provided standard historical accounts, resisting the urge to detail the complex "water manipulation" runes he could visualize. On chakra theory, he offered textbook explanations, carefully avoiding any mention of direct runic perception. He allowed himself a few deeper insights—particularly on Fuinjutsu principles—leaning into his established "aptitude." Crucially, he also introduced a few plausible errors and left an obscure herb question blank, as if unsure. His aim was a strong pass, not a perfect score that would scream "anomaly." He finished with time to spare, then pretended to review his work until Iruka‑sensei called for papers.
A nerve‑wracking wait followed as instructors graded. Naruto was practically vibrating, whispering that he was sure to pass, though his runic signature thrummed with panic. Sasuke stood by a window, aloof and silent, radiating a confidence that made everyone else more nervous.
At last, Iruka and two chūnin instructors re‑entered, faces unreadable. "We will now proceed to the practical examination," Iruka announced. "You will be called individually. The primary requirement is demonstration of Bunshin no Jutsu. A minimum of three functional clones is required."
A collective intake of breath. Naruto's shoulders slumped—this was his Achilles' heel.
Names were called. Students disappeared into the testing room, emerging minutes later either beaming with new forehead protectors or utterly crestfallen. The atmosphere thickened with each name.
"Kenji!"
His name felt startlingly loud. He took a slow breath, suppressing the urge to will the jutsu into existence. Performance, he reminded himself: controlled, believable performance.
Inside, Iruka and the two instructors sat behind a table, expressions neutral. The room's starkness amplified every movement.
"Begin with Henge no Jutsu," one instructor ordered.
Kenji nodded and executed the Dog‑Boar‑Ram signs with practiced slowness, channeling chakra in an Academy‑standard way. Poof! He became a recognizable, if slightly imperfect, Iruka‑sensei: a subtle shimmer at the edges.
"Passable," the instructor grunted. "Next: Bunshin no Jutsu. Three clones."
Kenji formed the Ram‑Snake‑Tiger signs, focused on flawed, illusory clones, and suppressed his knowledge of stable runic echoes. He forced slight wavering into each clone's form.
Poof! Poof! Poof!
Three translucent Kenjis stood, one trembling noticeably. They held.
Iruka nodded and marked his sheet. "Three clones. Chakra control adequate. Pass." The others murmured agreement.
Relief washed over Kenji. He'd done it.
"One final element," Iruka said, glancing at Kenji's pouch. "Demonstrate a basic Fuinjutsu application."
Kenji withdrew a calibrated Light Tag, infused it with a controlled pulse of chakra—talented but not prodigious.
A bright flash filled the room: efficient, clean, but not alarming. An instructor nodded. "Well‑made Light Tag. Good control."
"You have passed the Genin examination, Kenji," Iruka announced with a genuine smile. He gestured to a box holding forehead protectors. "Congratulations."
Kenji's hand was steady as he picked up the cool, heavy metal protector and tied it around his head. He bowed. "Thank you, sensei."
Back in the main hall, the headband felt like a mask successfully donned. Naruto was being called next. Kenji didn't wait. His exam was over—but the true test of maintaining his secret under Jōnin scrutiny was only beginning. The relief of passing was already tinged with the cold awareness of more dangerous games ahead.