Chapter 297 293: Karin's Chuunin Exam 30

The crowd did not know how to react.

That was the first thing Karin noticed.

Naruto Uzumaki had won, and that should have been simple. The winner received cheers. The loser received pity, respect, or mockery, depending on how well they fought. That was how these things worked.

But Konoha did not seem to know what to do with Naruto.

Some cheered because the fight had been exciting, because he was a Konoha Genin, and because people liked winners once they had already won. Others remained quiet, faces twisted with the same old distaste Karin had seen all month. They had watched him beat a Hyūga genius, watched him stand after the Gentle Fist had shut him down, watched him claw victory out of a fight he should have lost.

And still, some of them looked at him like he was dirt on their shoes.

Karin clicked her tongue.

Truly disgusting.

Naruto, naturally, did not seem to notice.

Or maybe he just ignored it well enough that even Karin couldn't see it on his face.

He stood in the arena with both hands raised, grinning like an idiot while the crowd slowly grew louder around him. Blood marked his face, dust covered his clothes, and his chakra still flickered unevenly after borrowing from the Kyūbi.

He looked terrible.

He also looked delighted.

Karin did not understand him at all.

Genma eventually stepped in and sent him away before he could start shouting something embarrassing. Naruto protested for a moment, then jogged back toward the finalist area, still wearing that stupid grin.

Neji was slower to move.

For a few breaths, the Hyūga boy remained on the ground, staring upward with unfocused eyes. His chakra was unsettled, not badly enough to suggest lasting damage, but enough to show that the loss had reached deeper than his body.

Good.

Perhaps he would learn something.

Or perhaps the Hyūga clan would crush whatever lesson he had nearly learned before it became inconvenient.

Either seemed possible.

Medics came to check him, though Neji pushed himself up before they could carry him. He was proud enough for that, at least. His steps were unsteady as he left the arena, but his face had already begun to settle back into a mask.

Karin watched him go for another moment before turning her attention elsewhere.

There were more important things than a Hyūga boy's wounded pride.

Genma waited until the arena had settled again, then looked toward the bracket.

"The next match," he called, "will be Sasuke Uchiha versus Gaara."

The crowd reacted instantly.

This time, the noise was different. Sharper. Hungrier.

Of course it was.

The brother of Itachi Uchiha against the Kazekage's son. The Sharingan against the sand. Konoha's most famous young survivor against Suna's monster.

A perfect match for an audience.

A perfect match for politics.

Gaara stepped forward.

Slowly.

He did not look excited. Not in the way Naruto looked excited, all bright teeth and loud declarations. Gaara's anticipation was quieter and far worse. His chakra shifted beneath his skin, pressing against the edges of him, eager and resentful and hungry.

He wanted this fight.

Badly.

Karin's eyes narrowed.

That was worth remembering.

Gaara walked down into the arena and stopped in the center, gourd resting against his back, pale eyes fixed on the empty entrance where Sasuke Uchiha should have appeared.

No one came.

The silence stretched.

The crowd murmured.

Genma waited.

Still no Sasuke.

Karin leaned against the railing and looked toward the Konoha side.

Interesting.

Sasuke Uchiha had not arrived in time for his own match.

For a normal Genin, that would have been enough. Late meant late. Disqualified. Removed from the bracket. Try again in the next exam if one still had the pride to show their face afterward.

But Sasuke Uchiha was not normal.

He was too useful.

Too famous.

Too valuable to Konoha's image.

The Uchiha name still carried weight, and Itachi's little brother carried even more. Nobles wanted to see his eyes. Clients wanted to judge his talent. Konoha wanted to show the world that even after the massacre, the Uchiha had not vanished from its service.

So, naturally, the rules bent.

Karin looked up toward the highest platform.

The Hokage spoke quietly with one of the officials near him. His expression remained calm, but Karin could feel the small tightening in his chakra. Annoyance, perhaps. Concern. Or simply the weight of having to pretend this was not embarrassing.

Beside him, the false Kazekage remained still.

Too still.

Orochimaru's chakra did not shift with impatience. It did not sharpen with surprise. It waited, cold and amused beneath another man's robes.

Karin's suspicion grew.

Did he know Sasuke would be late?

Of course he might. This was Orochimaru. If Sasuke Uchiha was involved, then the Snake Sannin was likely watching every movement around him.

Gaara, however, was less calm.

His chakra pulsed.

Sand stirred inside his gourd.

Temari's fingers tightened around her fan.

Kankurō's shoulders stiffened.

Baki did not move, but his chakra sharpened in warning.

Karin noticed all of it.

The Suna team knew Gaara was becoming unstable. Whether they knew that Orochimaru sat in their Kazekage's place was another question, but they certainly knew that denying Gaara his desired fight was dangerous.

Genma glanced toward the Hokage again.

A decision passed silently through the arena.

"The match will be delayed," Genma announced. "Sasuke Uchiha has not yet arrived. If he does not appear before the end of the other scheduled matches, he will be disqualified."

The crowd erupted into complaints, whispers, and speculation.

Karin smiled faintly.

How generous.

How very predictable.

Tōji made a quiet sound beside her. "They're really letting him stay in?"

"For now," Karin said.

"Would they do that for anyone else?"

"No."

Naho did not look surprised. "Because he is an Uchiha."

"Because he is useful," Karin corrected.

That was the real answer.

Bloodline, fame, tragedy, politics, all of it mattered only because it could be used. Sasuke Uchiha was not a boy to the people above him. Not really. He was a symbol, a weapon, a piece of Konoha's reputation given legs.

Karin wondered if he knew that.

Probably not.

Most shinobi lived and died, never knowing that the village they died for saw them as nothing more than expendable tools.

Down below, Gaara remained in the arena for several seconds after the announcement. For a moment, Karin wondered if he would refuse to leave.

Part of her almost wanted to see it.

But then Baki said something from the Suna side, too quiet for the civilians to hear, and Gaara turned. He walked back without protest, though his chakra had worsened rather than calmed.

Karin made note of that too.

The sand boy was not simply unstable.

He was being aimed.

Genma waited for the muttering to fade, then continued.

"The next match will be Kankurō versus Shino Aburame."

Shino stepped forward without a word.

Kankurō did not.

For a heartbeat, Karin thought he was merely slow to move. Then she saw his posture, felt the flatness of his chakra, and understood before he spoke.

"I forfeit."

The words were not loud.

They did not need to be.

The arena reacted with confusion first, then disappointment. Civilians complained openly, cheated of a promised fight. Some laughed, assuming cowardice. Others shouted insults toward Suna.

Karin ignored all of them.

Her attention fixed on Kankurō.

He was not afraid.

That was the important thing.

Kankurō was many things. Rude. Arrogant. Smug in the way puppet users often became when they thought no one understood their tricks. Cautious when caution was needed, yes, but not cowardly.

And he did not surrender because Shino Aburame frightened him.

Karin knew that.

She had watched Kankurō during the preliminaries. She had spent enough time near the Suna siblings to feel the shape of their confidence. He would not throw away a public match for no reason, not with nobles watching, not with Suna's reputation involved.

Which meant he had a reason.

Orochimaru was sitting in the Kazekage's seat.

Sound shinobi were hidden around the arena.

Suna's Jōnin were tense.

Gaara had been denied his match and was growing more unstable by the moment.

And now Kankurō had forfeited rather than reveal his puppet techniques or spend chakra.

Karin's fingers tapped once against the railing.

There it was.

Not proof.

Not yet.

But the shape of the thing was becoming clearer.

Something was going to happen.

Soon.

Shino Aburame accepted the victory without visible reaction, which Karin respected. He did not complain. He did not boast. He simply stood there, silent behind his glasses and high collar, as Genma raised a hand.

"Winner, Shino Aburame."

Kankurō remained at the Suna side, ignoring the jeers from the stands. Temari said something to him, her expression sharp. He answered with a shrug that was too casual to be real.

Gaara did not look at either of them.

He was staring toward the entrance where Sasuke still had not appeared.

Karin's smile faded.

The civilians thought they had just been robbed of entertainment.

Fools.

They had just watched someone choose preparation over pride.

That was far more interesting than a fight.

Tōji leaned closer. "Why would he surrender?"

Karin did not answer immediately.

Because she could not tell him the truth.

Or rather, she could not tell him the parts of the truth that mattered.

Instead, she said, "Because he has something more important to do later."

Tōji frowned. "During the exam?"

"Perhaps."

Naho's gaze sharpened. She understood enough not to ask more.

Good girl.

Karin kept her senses spread across the arena.

The hidden Sound shinobi had not moved yet.

Root had not moved either.

The false Kazekage remained beside the Hokage, patient as a snake in warm grass.

Konoha cheered, complained, laughed, and gossiped under the summer sun, completely unaware that the arena around them felt less like a stage and more like a trap waiting for the door to close.

Karin almost admired it.

Almost.

Genma turned back to the bracket.

"The next match," he called, "will be Shikamaru Nara versus Temari."

The crowd's disappointment began to recover. A real match, then. The lazy Konoha boy against the fan-wielding girl from Suna. Not the match most of them had come to see, perhaps, but enough to hold their attention while they waited for Sasuke Uchiha to finally grace them with his presence.

Temari stepped forward.

Unlike Kankurō, she did not hesitate.

Her fan rested against her back, large and heavy and dangerous, and her chakra was sharp with irritation. Whether because of Kankurō's surrender, Gaara's mood, Sasuke's absence, or something else entirely, Karin could not say.

Perhaps all of it.

Shikamaru Nara looked like he wanted to vanish.

Sadly for him, he did not.

He walked down into the arena with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, expression already complaining before his mouth even opened. Naruto shouted something encouraging from the Konoha side. Shikamaru sighed as if encouragement was a personal attack.

Karin watched him more carefully than most.

She remembered Naho's match.

She remembered smoke, wires, careful movement, and the moment the shadow caught.

A single mistake against a Nara ended the fight.

That made him dangerous.

Not powerful in the way Gaara was powerful. Not fast like Lee. Not precise like Neji. Not overwhelming like Naruto could become when the fox answered.

But dangerous all the same.

Temari stopped on one side of the arena, making sure she stood far away from any shadows.

Shikamaru stopped on the other.

Genma stood between them, senbon shifting lazily in his mouth as he looked from one finalist to the other.

Karin adjusted her glasses.

She once again found herself questioning everything she assumed. Temari hadn't followed her brother's example and forfeited—why?

If he had thought it best not to fight, to save tricks and chakra for something else, why didn't she share that course of action?

The wind shifted across the arena.

Temari's hand moved to her fan.

Shikamaru sighed.

Genma raised his hand.

"Begin."