The same trick?
Something was off.
Shuriken hurtled in from every direction along bizarre, crooked arcs.
They hadn't been thrown at random at all.
Every throwing star he narrowly dodged collided with another in midair.
After a metallic clang, each ricochet came at him from an even trickier angle.
They wove a dense net he could neither dodge nor escape.
Was this even something a fucking human could do?
Could anyone really pull off such terrifyingly precise technique?
Asuma had no idea that Shurikenjutsu was Satoru's worst subject.
Right now, he couldn't spare a moment to form hand seals. He could only twist and duck in desperation, barely evading wave after wave.
"How did Satoru get this strong?"
"Shit, are we really in the same class?"
"Why does it look like Uchiha Satoru is beating the examiner's ass?"
"He's even stronger than the examiner?"
"This is ridiculous."
"Can a human even pull something like this off?"
"He looks pretty relaxed, too."
"He really does."
Their chatter echoed the thoughts churning through Mitaraishi Anko's mind.
He could push things this far. No wonder her teacher was so utterly convinced of his potential.
Orochimaru showed not a trace of surprise.
Only his fingers trembled slightly beneath his robes.
Yes, that was exactly the kind of mind I wanted-calculations that missed nothing, paired with speed that defied all explanation.
I want it.
I want so badly to unravel every one of those secrets.
A chilling smile slowly crept across Orochimaru's lips.
Meanwhile, Asuma was still dodging for his life.
Strange.
By all rights, there was no way I could dodge a net of throwing stars this dense.
Yet I don't even have a scratch. How does that make sense?
When did my footwork get this good?
After dodging every last shuriken, Asuma couldn't stop wondering.
"Ahem."
"Kid, the incense is almost burned down. Looks like you won't be getting that graduation certificate."
"Go back and train for another two years!"
Seeing that the incense was about to burn out, Asuma raised his voice a little.
Gojo Satoru shook his head of white hair, tilted it, and asked:
"Hey, didn't you say earlier that touching the edge of your clothes counted as a pass?"
"Ha, of course."
"Any of you who manages to touch even a corner of my clothes before time runs out gets to graduate."
"Too bad. Is there enough time left to turn things around?"
Asuma answered with an incredibly smug grin.
The spectators beside them erupted.
"He was just that tiny bit short."
"Being a tiny bit short is still falling short. On the battlefield, the enemy won't care whether you missed by an inch or a mile."
"But Uchiha Satoru's already more than good enough to graduate."
"Well... the examiner sets the graduation requirements. In the end, it's his call."
"This is so fucking unfair."
Gojo Satoru didn't react much to Asuma's remarks.
He propped his chin in his hand and nodded earnestly. "You're right. This really will turn things around."
"Wind Release: Blow Whatever."
Gojo Satoru casually formed a hand seal and gave the jutsu a name that took absolutely nothing seriously.
A gentle breeze rose from the examination grounds and drifted softly toward Asuma.
"That's all you've got?" Asuma sneered as the breeze brushed his face.
Blow Whatever?
It really is whatever.
He couldn't have put in less effort if he tried.
"Ah! Pervert!"
"Uh, oh my god!"
The screams nearly blew the roof off the examination grounds.
What now?
Asuma scratched his head, utterly confused.
Then he noticed that everyone around him was either hastily turning away or staring at him as though he were some bizarre spectacle.
Is something wrong with me?
Weird. Why do I suddenly feel so chilly?
Asuma slowly lowered his gaze.
Aaaaah!!!!!
His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Why?
Where are my clothes?
Where did my whole damn outfit go?
Am I under a genjutsu?
A genjutsu from the Uchiha Clan?
Asuma's blood surged to boiling point, then plunged into an icy abyss.
His face rapidly alternated between blazing red and deathly pale.
"Ahem, this should count as getting it, right?" Gojo Satoru picked up a scrap of cloth from the ground, looking utterly innocent.
The other examinees saw what he did and instantly forgot their shock.
They began scrambling madly for the scraps on the ground.
"Mine."
"This one's mine."
"Examiner, I passed!"
Asuma stood completely petrified in the breeze.
The scraps scattered across the ground were the perfect picture of his shattered heart.
What kind of utterly hopeless world is this?
"Uchiha Satoru! This isn't over!"
That furious roar, despairing to the bone, left the examination grounds ringing.
Before you continue