The graduation examinations continued long after Team Ren had finished.
No student was allowed to leave until the entire process concluded, so everyone remained gathered around the Academy Training Grounds.
As always, exams divided the world into two very different camps.
One side celebrated.
The other mourned.
Students who passed were laughing, chatting excitedly, and discussing their futures.
Those who failed looked as though their souls had departed their bodies and neglected to leave a forwarding address.
This year’s team-based format had made things significantly more difficult.
Unlike the simple graduation tests of later generations, this examination measured far more than individual ability.
Team composition mattered.
Judgment mattered.
Coordination mattered.
Quite a few capable students had failed—not because they lacked talent, but because they had chosen terrible teammates.
Even the Elite Class had suffered casualties.
“Honestly…”
Kurenai still looked slightly dazed.
“I still can’t believe I became Orochimaru-sama’s disciple.”
She glanced at Ren.
“All I really did was cheer.”
That wasn’t false modesty.
It was an objective summary of her performance.
She had waved pom-poms.
Shouted encouragement.
And somehow become the disciple of one of the Legendary Sannin.
Reality had yet to catch up.
“My father already heard the news.”
Kurenai rubbed her forehead.
“He smiled.”
Rin immediately looked concerned.
“That serious?”
“Worse.”
Kurenai sighed.
“He wants to hold a celebration banquet.”
Rin nearly choked.
“A banquet?”
“He’s inviting relatives.”
Kurenai looked exhausted.
“Family friends too.”
“Apparently everyone needs to know.”
Ren nodded approvingly.
“A wise man.”
Kurenai pretended she hadn’t heard him.
Rin wasn’t doing much better.
“We really got carried.”
She glanced toward Ren.
“If it weren’t for you, we’d never have passed that easily.”
Her family hadn’t received the news yet.
But once they did…
Rin could already imagine the reaction.
The Nohara household might actually explode.
At that moment, Asuma wandered over.
Most of his bruises had healed.
Most.
“You know…”
He lowered his voice.
“I heard Takaoka failed.”
Kurenai froze.
“So it was true?”
Rin looked equally surprised.
Takaoka had been one of the stronger students in their year.
Not a prodigy.
But definitely talented.
Unfortunately, he’d assembled a disastrous team.
Nobody coordinated.
Nobody communicated.
Everyone tried to fight independently.
The result was spectacularly terrible.
Three decent students had somehow become weaker by working together.
The entire team failed.
Just like that.
Kurenai sighed.
“What a waste.”
Rin nodded.
“He’ll probably have to try again next year.”
For a moment, both girls felt incredibly fortunate.
They had accidentally secured the strongest carry in the entire Academy.
Without Ren, things could have turned out very differently.
Then Ren spoke.
“It’s only an exam.”
The girls looked at him.
“Failing isn’t the end of the world.”
He nodded wisely.
“There are many paths in life.”
Kurenai blinked.
Rin blinked.
That actually sounded mature.
Comforting, even.
Maybe Ren occasionally produced normal thoughts.
Then he continued.
“Besides.”
“If the exam doesn’t work out…”
He shrugged.
“You can always die.”
Silence.
The world stopped.
A bird flying overhead abruptly changed direction.
After several seconds, Asuma finally spoke.
“Ren.”
“Yeah?”
“If you say something like that to a normal person…”
“They’ll punch you.”
Ren’s eyes immediately lit up.
“Really?”
Everyone felt a sudden sense of danger.
“People would actually attack me?”
“Obviously.”
Asuma nodded.
Ren looked thoughtful.
Then inspired.
“Oh.”
“I understand now.”
No.
No, he didn’t.
Everyone knew he didn’t.
“Ren?”
Kurenai’s instincts screamed.
“Ren, wait—”
Too late.
The boy was already moving.
Like a shark that had detected blood in the water.
His target was a recently failed student sitting alone near the edge of the grounds.
The unfortunate victim looked thoroughly miserable.
Ren approached with alarming enthusiasm.
“Hey.”
The student looked up.
“Why are you crying?”
The boy stared.
“What?”
“Life isn’t just about today’s suffering.”
Ren placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“There’s tomorrow’s suffering too.”
The student’s expression stiffened.
“And future suffering.”
“Unexpected suffering.”
“Possibly suffering delivered directly to your house.”
Ren paused thoughtfully.
“Maybe even suffering in the form of your ex-girlfriend’s wedding invitation.”
Another pause.
“Actually, never mind.”
“You’ve probably never had a girlfriend.”
The student’s breathing became noticeably heavier.
“But that’s fine.”
Ren nodded encouragingly.
A beat passed.
“And your right hand.”
Several nearby students quietly retreated.
“Believe in yourself.”
“Anything a girlfriend can do—”
“YOU SON OF A—!”
The student snapped.
His fist flew.
Ren casually slapped him.
The boy immediately face-planted into the dirt.
[System Notification]
Victory Acquired
Experience Gained
Ren nodded with satisfaction.
A successful experiment.
Then he turned and walked toward another emotionally vulnerable target.
“Hello.”
The second student visibly recoiled.
“You seem sad.”
“Don’t be.”
“Sometimes failure helps us discover our true potential.”
The student blinked.
“That actually sounds rea—”
“Specifically how much potential for failure we really have.”
The student lunged.
Watching from a distance, Kurenai covered her face.
Rin looked horrified.
Asuma stared silently into the distance.
Then a profound realization struck him.
For years, he had wondered why the gap between himself and Ren kept growing.
Now he finally understood.
Asuma wasn’t weak.
He wasn’t lazy.
He wasn’t afraid of hardship.
When challenges appeared, he faced them.
Most people would call that admirable.
Ren operated differently.
Ren didn’t wait for challenges.
If difficulties failed to appear—
He created them.
Then he solved them.
Then he created new ones.
Then solved those too.
How was anyone supposed to compete with that?
Meanwhile, Ren had somehow migrated into a group of parents.
“Me?”
He pointed at himself.
“Defeating a Jonin and becoming Orochimaru-sama’s disciple was mostly luck.”
The parents stared.
Ren sighed modestly.
“Honestly, I’m not particularly talented.”
Several adults nearly collapsed.
“Far from it.”
He shook his head.
“Your son becoming a Chunin’s disciple is impressive too.”
One father looked ready to burst into tears.
His son had failed the examination.
Ren continued cheerfully.
“Everyone succeeds in different ways.”
“Some people become disciples of a Legendary Sannin.”
He pointed at himself.
“Others become disciples of Chunin.”
He gestured vaguely toward the crowd.
“Different roads.”
“Same destination.”
The father’s eye twitched.
Violently.
A dangerous silence spread through the group.
Somewhere nearby, Asuma quietly turned around and began walking away.
He wanted absolutely no connection to whatever disaster was about to happen next.
Experience had taught him one thing.
Whenever Ren started giving motivational speeches, casualties followed.