章節 264: 262
Haruto sat alone in the dimly lit room, the dull roar of the crowd barely audible beyond the thick walls. The muffled noise outside felt like a distant memory, barely intruding on the sanctuary of quiet he had created for himself. This was how he prepared—alone, locked in his own head. His adrenaline was already starting to thrum beneath his skin, slowly building as the fight approached.
The room around him was bare—a simple table and bench—but it was all he needed. The calm before the storm. The place to breathe, focus, and center himself. His heartbeat was steady, matching the slow rhythm of his breath. It was the anticipation of the fight that fueled him, the quiet before the chaos. He breathed in deeply, his eyes half-closed.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. The door creaked open, revealing an older genin from the Genin Corps—a man with tired eyes and slouched shoulders, someone stuck in the lower ranks with little hope of advancement. "You can go in now," he said, his voice flat, indifferent.
Haruto stood smoothly, his movements fluid and controlled. He didn't need anyone in his corner, not even Sakumo, who had offered his support. Daichi might have someone in his corner, maybe Shisui too, but Haruto preferred to face the fight alone, with nothing but his instincts and focus to guide him. Just him and the battle ahead.
As Haruto stepped into the corridor, the noise of the arena swelled, vibrating through the walls and growing louder as he neared the entrance. The wind hit him as soon as he stepped outside—cool and sharp, tugging at his clothes. East wind. He noted the direction, feeling the chill as it brushed against his face. Overhead, the sky was gray and heavy, thick clouds swirling slowly as if even nature was preparing for the violence to come. It was a perfect backdrop.
Haruto approached the line of genin standing ready, his sharp eyes scanning each one, taking in their features, their stance, their aura. These were his opponents. He needed to know them, understand them.
Reina Aoyama stood closest. Her appearance was deceptive—thin, almost fragile, with delicate features. Her long, straight brown hair was tied back into a high ponytail, framing a small, angular face. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain-like, and her dark eyes had a quiet, intense focus that didn't match her frail frame. She wore a simple, muted green tunic and matching pants, both fitted closely to her thin figure. Around her waist was a dark leather belt, lined with small pouches containing her deadly poisons. Her hands hovered near them, fingers twitching slightly, like she was already preparing for her first move. There was a calm confidence about her that suggested she knew her poisons could end a fight before it even began.
Next to her was Natsumi Inuzuka, wild and untamed like her clan's reputation suggested. Her black hair was cut short and messy, sticking up at odd angles, as if she hadn't bothered to tame it. The red fang-like markings on her cheeks stood out against her tan skin, making her look more feral. She wore a sleeveless dark brown vest over a black shirt, the fabric slightly torn, as if it had seen many battles. Her pants were loose, allowing for quick, agile movements, and her bandages were wrapped tightly around her arms, wrists, and shins, ready for close combat. At her feet sat a small nin-dog, its fur a mottled gray and black. The dog's sharp yellow eyes scanned the crowd, mirroring Natsumi's restless energy. Both looked like they were on the verge of pouncing.
Jiro from the Hidden Sand was next. His entire form radiated menace, though it was quiet, controlled. His skin was deeply tanned from the desert sun, contrasting sharply with the beige scarf wrapped around his face, covering everything but his eyes. Those eyes, black and piercing, were like a predator's, scanning for weakness. His hair, black and coarse, stuck out in small tufts from beneath a beige headband tied tightly around his forehead. He wore a long-sleeved brown robe, the fabric worn from the desert, with dark straps crisscrossing his chest. A large, curved blade hung on his back, the hilt poking out from beneath the robe's folds. His posture was still, like a coiled spring waiting for the right moment to strike.
Kaito Tanaka from the Land of Tea stood with a cocky, laid-back demeanor. His short, spiky black hair looked like he had run his fingers through it a few too many times. His green headband, tied loosely around his forehead, shimmered in the light, adding to his smug appearance. He wore a sleeveless dark green tunic over a tight black undershirt, showing off his lean but muscular arms. His pants were rolled up to his knees, revealing his tanned, muscular calves, and he wore simple sandals that seemed out of place for a shinobi. His smirk never wavered as he twirled a kunai between his fingers, clearly enjoying the attention from the crowd. Arrogance rolled off him in waves.
Then there was Genma Shiranui, a stark contrast to Kaito's swagger. Genma's brown hair was spiked up in a wild fashion, and a senbon casually dangled from the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes were half-lidded, making him look like he was either bored or just couldn't be bothered. His clothing was simple: a dark blue tunic, worn and slightly frayed at the edges, and black shinobi pants that were loose but functional. He wore black gloves, the tips of his fingers exposed. His whole demeanor screamed indifference, but there was an underlying confidence to the way he stood—like someone who didn't need to try hard to be dangerous. Haruto could sense it.
Shisui Uchiha stood tall, his stance calm but ready. His jet-black hair, tied into a short ponytail at the base of his neck, framed his sharp features. His skin was pale, and his dark, focused eyes seemed to miss nothing. He wore the standard shinobi attire of the Hidden Leaf—black armor over a dark blue shirt and pants—but there was something about the way he carried himself, the tension in his muscles, that told Haruto this was no ordinary genin. His reputation for speed and agility was well-known, and even without his Sharingan active, Shisui's presence was enough to make people wary. There was a quiet storm in him, waiting to be unleashed.
Beside Shisui was Daichi Uzumaki, a bright contrast to the rest. His long, fiery red hair was tied into a high ponytail, and his face was lit with a constant grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement, as if this was just another fun event for him. His red and white Uzumaki-patterned vest stood out against his black shirt and pants, the design a clear reminder of his clan's legacy. Despite his cheerful demeanor, there was a subtle power in the way he moved—a chakra reserve that could overwhelm most opponents. His smile was disarming, but Haruto knew better than to underestimate him. Daichi was strong, and he knew it.
Rasa of the Hidden Sand was like a shadow, standing still as stone. His sharp, angular features were as cold as the desert night, and his golden eyes held no warmth. His skin was a pale contrast to his dark green tunic, which was simple but finely made. His headband was tied securely across his forehead, and his hands, covered in dark gloves, rested calmly at his sides. His presence alone was unsettling, a stillness that hinted at immense power. Haruto knew about Rasa's ability to manipulate Gold Dust, and the mere thought of facing him made Haruto's senses sharpen. Rasa's reputation was well-earned, and his control over his techniques was legendary.
Then there was Pakura, standing with the grace of someone who knew exactly how powerful she was. Her long, flowing orange hair cascaded down her back, a bright contrast to her emerald green eyes. She wore a black and red shinobi outfit, sleek and fitted to her slim frame, allowing for quick, fluid movements. Her presence was calm but intimidating, and her beauty was matched only by the lethal reputation of her Scorch Release. She didn't need to make a scene or act out to draw attention—her very stillness was enough to command it. She was a force to be reckoned with, and everyone in the arena knew it.
Finally, Takeshi Hyuga stood with his Byakugan already active, his pale, unblinking eyes scanning the arena with an intensity that made Haruto pause for just a moment. His long black hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, and his traditional white Hyuga robes were pristine, even in the chaos of the arena. His stance was rigid, controlled, the embodiment of discipline and precision. Every movement he made was calculated, his posture speaking of years of training in the art of taijutsu. Takeshi was prepared for anything, and his Byakugan only heightened his awareness, making him an incredibly dangerous opponent.
And then, there was Haruto. He stood silently, his sharp, angular features set in quiet focus. His dark hair rustled in the wind, and his eyes narrowed as he scanned the arena. No legendary bloodline, no famous techniques. Just hard work, grit, and a fire inside that never went out. His muscles, lean but strong, had been honed through relentless training. He didn't need anything more. What he had was enough—the will to win. The eye of the tiger, as they'd called it in his past life. He had it then, and he had it now. It pulsed through him, sharper than ever, matching the rhythm of "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" by Drowning Pool, the song that always played in his mind before a fight. The adrenaline was already starting to spike.
The arena was packed, the excitement buzzing in the air. Nobles sat in the highest seats, adorned in rich robes, surrounded by their guards. The Hokage sat at the center, his white robes flowing gently in the breeze, his face calm and watchful. Next to him, the Daimyo of the Land of Fire, dressed in luxurious clothing, was flanked by advisors and guards. On the other side of the Hokage sat the Third Kazekage, his sharp headdress gleaming in the faint light. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the genin below like a hawk watching its prey.
The Daimyo stood first, his voice booming across the arena. "Welcome, honored guests, to the Chunin Exams! Today, we witness the strength and spirit of the next generation of shinobi, who will prove their worth to their villages."
The Hokage followed, his voice quieter but equally powerful. "May the best among you rise through skill, and through the strength of your will. Let your battles bring pride to your villages and yourselves."
Haruto stood at attention, respectful on the surface, but inside, his focus was narrowing. The storm inside him was building. He knew his match was first, and Reina stood across from him, her hands already hovering near her pouches. Ready.
The wind was still blowing east. Haruto noted it again. He would use it.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in one final breath. This was it. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline surging now, making everything sharper, clearer.
The announcer's voice echoed across the arena.
"First up—Haruto of the Hidden Leaf versus Reina Aoyama of the Land of Tea!"
Haruto opened his eyes, his breath steady, his gaze cold and focused. He was ready.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票