You ever walk into a room and instantly feel the center of attention? Like everyone's eyes are glued to you like you're some rare Pokémon card?
Yeah. That was me today.
"Kyaaa! Isn't that Go-kun?" someone squealed.
"Go-kun"? Who the hell was that supposed to be? Oh—right. That was me. Sort of.
A pink-haired girl craned her neck. "What's he doing here? Isn't this the graduation exam room?"
I swear the whispering could've powered a windmill.
Within minutes, I was surrounded like a celebrity who'd accidentally wandered into a middle school. Whispers filled the air like smoke.
"Didn't he just enroll like a month ago?"
"There's no way he's taking the exam already. He's only five."
"Uchiha Itachi was the youngest to graduate—at seven!"
"Wait, Itachi? Isn't that Satoru-kun's brother?"
Yep. That was Itachi nii-san. Teenage prodigy. Cool as ice. Terrifyingly competent.
"And now his little brother's already here for the exam? Unreal…"
Look, I know I'm amazing, but even I was starting to feel the pressure under all the dramatic gasps and second-hand expectations.
Maybe I was just here to mop the floors. Maybe I took a wrong turn and wandered into the wrong room like a dumb NPC.
Spoiler: I wasn't.
The real fun began when the examiner walked in.
"Hey, isn't that Asuma?" someone muttered.
Wait, Asuma Sarutobi? Future chain-smoker with Wind Chakra and daddy issues? What was he doing here?
He didn't look thrilled either. Guy had all the enthusiasm of a guy told to babysit a preschool instead of joining the Daimyō's elite bodyguard unit.
His eyes scanned us lazily before settling on a stick of incense jammed into the dirt.
"The rules are simple," he said, voice dripping with disinterest. "Touch the corner of my clothes before this incense burns out. You pass."
…That's it?
Of course, the class reacted like he just spat on their honor.
"Arrogant jerk!"
"Who's he think we are?!"
"Shadow Imitation Technique!"
"Whirlwind Fist!"
"Eat my knife!"
Wait—why were they all shouting their jutsu names like this was a shounen anime?
Also, announcing a hidden weapon felt like... anti-strategic.
I stood there, chin in hand, analyzing the crowd with all the interest of someone critiquing toddlers fighting over crayons.
"H-hey! You!"
Huh?
I blinked, pointing at myself innocently. "Me?"
"Yeah, you! The smug little kid with the weird smile."
Wow. Rude.
"Perform your jutsu already!" Asuma barked.
I puffed out my cheeks in indignation. "Smug"? I was going for mysterious prodigy. Do people not get the vibe?
Fine. Time to put on a show.
Straightening my back, I walked up to him, my smile fading into something more serious. The air shifted.
People stopped talking. Even Asuma's eyes narrowed a little. Orochimaru, from the sidelines, tilted his head like a vulture spotting roadkill. Creepy as always.
"You're in luck," I said, touching my blindfold with the flair of a magician about to pull a rabbit from a hat. "Let me show you my unique secret technique."
"Unique secret?" Asuma muttered, clearly unimpressed.
Oh, you'll see.
I flew through a series of hand seals, then declared with absolute confidence:
"Ninjutsu—Blocking Technique!"
The crowd blinked. Silence stretched.
Nothing happened.
"…What the hell was that?"
"Blocking Technique," I said again, pointing to him. "Didn't I just… block you?"
I watched his brain short-circuit.
"Blocked me?" he sputtered.
"I mean, you didn't attack me, so clearly, it worked. You're blocked." I gave him a slow, smug smile.
There was a beat of stunned silence before Anko, Orochimaru's manic apprentice, howled with laughter from the sidelines.
"Pfft—what kind of teacher is this kid?! I love him!"
Orochimaru, meanwhile, watched me with the glint of a man watching his favorite snake shed its skin. Again.
"He's a student I'm… optimistic about," he murmured.
Back in the ring, Asuma's eye twitched. Hard.
"You little brat!"
Uh-oh. There go the adult coping skills.
Asuma lunged.
"Hey now," I said, raising a hand lazily. "Why so serious?"
I slapped a palm to the ground.
"Earth Style—Earth River Car!"
The ground rumbled.
Asuma paused, maybe realizing that blindly punching a five-year-old was about to end very poorly.
Chunks of rock burst from the earth like geysers, nearly taking him out before he backflipped away in surprise.
"…That was real?" he muttered, brushing dust off his shoulders.
"Huh? You mean the name?" I shrugged. "I just thought 'Earth River Car' sounded cool. You don't like it?"
"Uchiha Satoru," he growled, face darkening. "Quit playing around."
I stared at him, the humor draining from my voice.
"Playtime's over," I said softly.
And just like that, the temperature dropped.
The playful smirk faded. The weight behind my gaze shifted. Even I felt it.
Asuma's pupils contracted. His body tensed instinctively, like a rabbit sensing a hawk overhead.
He took a step back.
"Wait… this pressure—" he muttered.
Yup. Different vibe now, huh?
From the shadows, Orochimaru's grin stretched wider. He was eating this up like a freak at a theater show starring his favorite little monster.
"Warmth, kindness, friendliness…" he whispered, delighted. "All just masks. This is his truth."
And me?
I just smiled.
So what now, examiner?
Let's see if you're still laughing when the "smug little kid" rewrites the test.