Chapter 293: Karin's Chuunin Exam 27

Gaara did not look like a winner.

Rock Lee did not look like a loser.

That was the strange thing.

The Suna boy stood mostly intact, bruised and bloodied but still dangerous, still able to fight. Rock Lee lay broken on the floor, his arm and leg ruined, his chakra system scorched by his own technique.

And yet everyone was looking at Lee.

Not Gaara.

Karin could understand why.

Lee’s fingers twitched.

Then, impossibly, he moved.

The medics froze. Might Guy turned sharply, grief still clear across his ridiculous face.

“Lee?”

Rock Lee stood.

Or tried to.

His body rose on broken limbs, eyes unfocused, consciousness already gone. He stood because some part of him had not accepted that the fight was over, because his body had learned one order so deeply that even unconsciousness could not erase it.

Stand.

Fight.

Do not give up.

The chamber fell silent again.

Even Karin said nothing.

Might Guy caught him before he could collapse fully, holding his student with a gentleness that looked strange on a man who had crossed the arena like a thunderbolt.

For once, Karin did not feel like laughing at him.

Rock Lee had lost. That was the fact, and facts mattered. He had failed to defeat Gaara, failed to advance, and likely destroyed his own future for the sake of a preliminary match.

But facts were not always enough.

He had forced a Jinchūriki to bleed. He had made the sand fail. He had cracked the armor beneath it and pushed Gaara from boredom to irritation, then from irritation to rage. He had done it without a bloodline, without ninjutsu, without genjutsu, without a clan technique, and without anything except a body trained until it could almost keep up with monsters.

Almost.

That word mattered.

Almost was the difference between glory and defeat.

Between standing in the finals and being carried away by medics.

Still, Karin found herself remembering what Kaguya-sama had said.

Do not fight Might Guy.

Now she understood.

Not completely. Perhaps not even close. But enough.

If the student could do this to Gaara, then what could the teacher do?

The medics carried Lee away, with Guy walking beside them this time, all of his brightness gone. Gaara returned to the Suna balcony without a word. Temari and Kankurō did not congratulate him. Neither seemed to know what to say.

Karin looked at Gaara for a long moment.

He had won as expected, though clearly he had paid a far harder price for it than expected.

His victory had never been a surprise; what was a surprise was how far Rock Lee pushed him.

Still, despite how battered Gaara currently looked, Karin knew that he was still very, very dangerous; she could feel the raging chakra underneath his battered exterior.

But overall, Karin was very satisfied with the fight; it had exposed a lot of Gaara’s strengths, and if she had to fight him, well, when she had to fight him in the finals, she would know how to beat him.

The board flickered again above the chamber.

For once, Karin did not immediately look. After all, she already knew the result; there were only two Genin left, so she didn’t bother to look. Her mind remained on Rock Lee, on broken bones, torn muscles, and a body that had stood after the person inside it was no longer awake.

Then Tōji spoke quietly.

“Karin-sama.”

She looked up.

The names had stopped, displaying the final two names.

Chōji Akimichi.

Karin Uzumaki.

“Ah,” she said. “They clearly saved the best for last.”

Tōji straightened despite his exhaustion, and Naho’s attention sharpened beside him. Renga-sensei looked almost relieved, though Karin suspected that was because he knew this match would likely repair some of Ame’s standing after both Tōji and Naho had lost.

Not that they had embarrassed themselves.

They hadn’t.

But losing was still losing.

Now it was Karin’s turn.

Across the chamber, Chōji Akimichi went pale.

Karin noticed that too.

She did not blame him.

He had watched her team over the past few days, just as everyone else had. He had seen how Tōji and Naho treated her. He had seen how even their sensei deferred to her. More than that, he had likely noticed that Gaara, for all his madness and murderous arrogance, had accepted Karin’s presence without attacking her.

That alone should have told him enough.

The large boy swallowed, then looked toward his sensei.

Asuma Sarutobi said something quietly, likely encouragement. Chōji nodded, though he did not look much more confident afterward.

Karin adjusted her glasses and stepped away from the railing.

“Karin-sama,” Naho said.

“Yes?”

“Good luck.”

Karin glanced at her.

Naho remained perfectly serious.

Tōji, traitor that he was, looked like he wanted to laugh.

Karin rolled her eyes. “I won’t need it.”

Then she jumped down.

She landed lightly on the arena floor, one hand resting against her hip, her gaze already on Chōji as he made his way down after her. He looked nervous, but not cowardly. That was something, at least.

The Akimichi clan was not weak.

Karin knew that well enough. Kaguya-sama had taught her about most of Konoha’s old clans, and the Akimichi were not to be underestimated. On a battlefield, they could become living siege weapons, turning size, weight, and stored energy into raw destructive force. A properly trained Akimichi could break formations, crush defensive lines, and force entire enemy squads to scatter.

Chōji Akimichi was not there yet.

Not even close.

But the foundation was there.

He was simply young, soft, and not nearly confident enough in what his clan could do.

Hayate stepped between them, coughing once into his hand. “The next match will be Chōji Akimichi versus Karin Uzumaki.”

Chōji shifted his feet.

Karin studied him.

“You are going to hesitate,” she said.

Chōji blinked. “What?”

“You don’t want to fight me properly.”

His face reddened slightly. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Karin said. “You are thinking that I am a girl, and smaller than you, and that you don’t want to hurt me too badly.”

Chōji’s mouth opened.

Then closed.

Karin sighed.

“That is stupid.”

A few people on the balcony reacted to that. Naruto shouted something in protest, though Karin ignored him.

Chōji frowned. “I’m not stupid.”

“Then prove it,” Karin said. “Akimichi are supposed to be terrifying. Show me.”

For the first time, Chōji’s chakra sharpened properly.

Not much.

But enough.

Hayate looked between them, then raised his hand.

“Begin.”

Chōji moved first.

To Karin’s mild approval, he did not start with a clumsy charge. Instead, his hands came together, chakra swelling through his body as he used his clan technique.

“Expansion Jutsu!”

His body grew, roundness turning into mass, chakra spreading through flesh and muscle as he became larger and heavier in a single breath. The floor cracked slightly beneath his feet.

Good.

Then he tucked himself in.

“Human Bullet Tank!”

He launched forward, spinning across the arena like a boulder given intent. The stone floor cracked beneath him as he rolled, speed building faster than Karin had expected.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Against a normal Genin, that would have been very dangerous. The size, the speed, the weight, and the rotation made stopping him directly foolish. Dodging was safer, but if one dodged badly, he could turn and keep chasing. Worse, a hit from that mass would break bones easily.

Unfortunately for Chōji, Karin was not a normal Genin.

She waited.

Tōji made a strangled sound from above. “Karin-sama?”

To most, it might have looked like Karin had frozen in fear, that her attempt at shit-talk had backfired and caused her opponent to go all out from the beginning.

But in truth, she simply didn’t have to move, didn’t care to move, and just gave Chōji a chance to show off a little of his abilities.

Chōji thundered toward her, gathering speed as he crossed the floor. Karin watched the rotation, the chakra flow, the angle of his movement, and the slight delay in each correction.

She studied him, his technique; it was surprisingly technical for how simple it looked.

But in the end, all techniques, all tricks, all tactics failed before absolute power.

Without a single movement, half a dozen chains of chakra shot out from behind Karin’s back; they moved much like Gaara’s sand and instantly crashed against the massive ball of flesh that was Chōji.

And the rotation instantly stopped; arms and legs were tied up and spread-eagled. Next, a chain wrapped around his neck, and there he hung, suspended in the air, helpless and defeated.

The arena went still.

Hayate looked at them for a moment.

Chōji swallowed.

“I surrender,” he said.

Hayate raised one hand. “Winner, Karin Uzumaki.”

For a moment, no one said anything.

That was the correct response.

Chōji Akimichi, who had just been a massive spinning boulder of flesh and chakra, now hung helplessly in the air, arms and legs pulled wide by glowing chains that had appeared from Karin’s back as if they had always been there.

The chain around his neck was not tight enough to choke him.

It did not need to be.

Everyone understood what it meant.

Karin flicked her fingers, and the chains released him all at once. Chōji dropped heavily to the ground, landing on one knee as he coughed and rubbed at his neck.

He was not hurt.

Not really.

A little bruised, perhaps. Embarrassed, certainly. But she had not crushed his throat, snapped his limbs, or driven the chains through his body.

So really, she had been very polite.

Above, Tōji finally remembered how to breathe.

“That,” he said, voice filled with reverence, “was amazing.”

Naho nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Karin glanced up at them and gave a small, satisfied smile before looking back at Chōji.

The Akimichi boy stared at her with wide eyes.

“What… what was that?”

“A chain,” Karin said.

Chōji blinked.

Karin sighed. “Several chains.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, then wisely decided not to. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and gave her a small, awkward nod.

“I lost.”

“Yes,” Karin said.

His shoulders slumped.

Then she added, “But at least you listened.”

Chōji looked up again. “Huh?”

“You attacked properly at the start. That was better than hesitating.”

He seemed unsure whether that was praise or not.

It was.

But she didn’t blame him for being confused; after all, she was someone his age, and being praised like that from a peer looked strange.

But in truth, Karin might be around his age, but her strength ensured that they weren’t truly peers.

Karin turned away before he could ask, walking back toward the stairs as the chamber slowly began to react behind her. The silence broke into mutters, whispers, and the sharp little shifts of chakra that came when people suddenly realized they had been looking at something more dangerous than expected.

Which suited her just fine.

She had wanted to show off a little, in particular because the last fight had been so impactful; she didn’t want to be reduced to a footnote.

So she had to make her own fight memorable.

But since her opponent wasn’t up to par, she could only go for an overwhelming show of force.

And sure, it had exposed one of her trump cards, but it hardly mattered; in the end, knowing about something didn’t matter if you still couldn’t overcome it.

And from everything she had seen so far, none had anything that even got close to beating her chains.

As she returned to the balcony, Tōji and Naho straightened as if she had just won a war instead of a very short match against an outmatched Akimichi.

“Karin-sama,” Naho said, bowing her head.

“Well done,” Tōji added quickly.

Karin looked at him.

He swallowed. “Obviously well done.”

“Better.”

Renga-sensei looked more relieved than proud, which was probably because he now knew Ame would not leave the preliminaries in total disgrace; instead, they would be the only so-called minor village able to compete with two big ones.

Across the chamber, Naruto Uzumaki had both hands on the railing and was staring at her with his mouth open.

Karin noticed.

Unfortunately.

He pointed at her. “Hey! That was awesome! How did you do that?”

Karin stared back.

Then very deliberately looked away.

Tōji made a choking sound that might have been a laugh.

“Do not,” Karin said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Continue that.”

“Yes, Karin-sama.”

Naruto shouted something else, but Karin ignored him. She was not ready to deal with the fact that this orange embarrassment shared her clan name. Not after he had won his match through flatulence and divine mockery.

The Hokage, however, was harder to ignore.

The old man was looking at her now.

Not openly enough for most to notice. His expression remained mild, grandfatherly even, but his chakra had shifted the moment her chains appeared. Several of the older Konoha shinobi had reacted the same way.

A mix of recognition, concern, and old memories.

So they knew what they were.

As they should.

The Uzumaki were not some forgotten clan of refugees and scattered survivors. They had once been feared, respected, courted, and destroyed for a reason. If Konoha had forgotten that, Karin was more than happy to remind them.

In particular because they had the last Uzumaki able to use that particular Kekkei Genkai.

They’d best not forget that it wasn’t a Konoha one, but an Uzumaki one.

Below, Hayate coughed into one hand, sounding as if the entire exam had taken years off his life.

“With that,” he said, “the preliminary matches are complete.”

The remaining Genin shifted.

Complete.

So that was it.

The second stage was truly over.

Karin looked around the chamber and counted the finalists.

Sasuke Uchiha.

Shino Aburame.

Kankurō.

Temari.

Shikamaru Nara.

Naruto Uzumaki.

Neji Hyūga.

Gaara.

And herself.

Nine.

Not ten, because the two Konoha girls had knocked each other out in a display that Karin still considered embarrassing for everyone involved.

Nine finalists was an awkward number, but that was Konoha’s problem. Perhaps one of them would receive a pass through the first round. Perhaps there would be a preliminary match before the public fights. Perhaps someone would die before then and make the numbers cleaner.

Given this exam, Karin would not be surprised.

The Hokage stepped forward again, robes shifting as the room settled.

“Congratulations to those who have advanced,” he said. “The third stage of the Chūnin Selection Exams will be held one month from now.”

The Hokage continued speaking, explaining that the final stage would be a public event attended by nobles, clients, and important guests from many nations. Karin only half listened. The details were obvious enough.

The third exam was not really an exam.

It was theater.

A place where villages displayed weapons while pretending they were children.

Karin could respect that.

At least it was honest in its dishonesty.

Beside her, Tōji leaned closer. “Karin-sama.”

“What?”

“You’ll win, right?”

Karin looked at him.

He straightened immediately. “Right. Stupid question.”

“Very.”

Naho looked toward the other finalists. “There are strong opponents.”

“Yes,” Karin said.

Gaara stood with his siblings, silent and blood-eyed. Neji stood near his team without truly standing with them. Naruto was still staring at her like an idiot. Shikamaru looked as though success had personally offended him. Temari looked confident. Kankurō looked smug. Shino was unreadable.

And Sasuke Uchiha was absent, taken away by Kakashi Hatake to deal with Orochimaru’s mark.

Strong opponents.

Interesting opponents.

But opponents all the same.

Karin adjusted her glasses as the Hokage’s speech came to an end.

The second exam was over.

The real show would begin in one month.