Sen slowly made his way up the steep iron stairs toward the second-floor stands.
A thick layer of rust covered the steps.
When he rested his hand on the railing, a sticky layer of yellowish-red rust immediately coated his palm.
As he passed the teams of examinees from the other ninja villages.
The people who had been craning their necks to watch the spectacle reacted as though they had seen a walking plague.
With a sudden flurry of movement.
Everyone scrambled backward at once, crowding into a huddle.
One Grass Ninja examinee retreated too hastily.
He landed on his backside on the steps, so frightened that he dropped the kunai in his hand.
His palms were slick with sweat, and he no longer even had the strength to grip his kunai.
Sen gave him a sidelong glance.
Then ignored him.
"Boss! Over here! There's a spot here!"
Naruto grinned widely, waving frantically from the very front of the stands.
A faint shaft of sunlight happened to fall through a vent onto his seat.
He vigorously patted the shabby, patched cushion beneath his backside, its fabric washed yellow with age, and offered it to Sen.
"Boss, sit down! I just warmed this cushion up for you with my butt. It's nice and toasty!"
Sen rolled his eyes dramatically, disgust written all over his face.
"Get lost. It reeks of farts."
He tossed the cushion aside and plopped straight down on the cold stone steps.
Sasuke sat beside him.
Rather than making his usual sarcastic remarks, he simply wore a dark expression.
His scarlet two-tomoe Sharingan had already faded, but the intensity in his gaze was almost frightening.
"Sen Senju."
Sasuke gritted his teeth, his voice so low it seemed to scrape through his throat.
"How much of your strength did you