『 Prodigy Chūnin Exams — Waiting Room』 『Second Round. 』

The waiting area feels wrong for a room full of kids.

Stone walls. A single flickering light above. A long bench running the length of the room—worn, cracked, and lined with monsters in the shape of children.

What are these freak?!

On one side, Kid Orochimaru sits unnaturally still, pale hands folded, golden eyes half-lidded, calm and collected like nothing even happened.

Next to him, Kid Minato watches the arena feed with quiet focus, fingers absentmindedly spinning a three-pronged kunai, calm blue eyes hiding a storm of calculations… a kid who could stop a jutsu in the blink of an eye…

Kid Neji leans against the wall, arms crossed, Byakugan inactive but veins around his temples still faintly pronounced, like destiny itself is pulsing under his skin.

Kid Shisui is cheery, unfazed by Gaara’s bloodlust, but secretly highly perceptive…eye lazily tracking everyone, his chakra presence light but sharp.

Kid Itachi… like Orchimaru… calm and collected like nothing even happened… sits perfectly upright, hands resting calmly on his knees, eyes lowered—not out of submission, but contemplation, as if he’s already ten battles ahead.

The door thuds open.

Kid Kakashi steps back into the room, silver hair ruffled, one eye half-lidded and bored, clothes slightly scuffed from his last fight. A thin trace of blood—Sasuke’s—is drying on his sleeve. He doesn’t bother cleaning it.

He just walks past you, past all of them, hands in his pockets, like none of this matters.

The screen above the door still shows the replay—Kid Kakashi effortlessly dismantling Kid Sasuke. The sound is muffled, but the image is clear:

Kakashi, already done. Sasuke, already on the ground.

You feel someone staring at you.

Slowly, you turn.

He’s sitting a little apart from the others.

The gourd is the first thing you notice—massive, strapped to his back with thick leather, cracks along its surface like it’s barely containing what’s inside. Sand leaks out in a thin stream, whispering across the floor, coiling lazily around his feet… you sense immense bloodlust from him… he’s dangerous.

Kid Gaara. 12 years old.

Dark-rimmed eyes. Pale skin. A kanji etched into his forehead like a curse. He doesn’t blink.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you. Orochimaru’s presence feels distant. Itachi’s silence fades. Minato’s calm is nothing. Neji’s pride, Shisui’s watchfulness, Kakashi’s boredom—all of it blurs.

Gaara tilts his head slightly. His lips curl into the smallest, most unsettling smirk.

Kid Gaara (12yrs old, softly, to you):

“I can’t wait to kill you.”

The world warps around his face as he looks up, eyes widening, that smirk stretching just a fraction too far.

Kid Gaara (12yrs old, voice a little more unhinged):

“In fact, I can’t wait to kill all of you here.”

For a heartbeat, no one moves.

Orochimaru’s eyes slide toward him, intrigued. Neji’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. Minato glances over, measuring, not rattled—but not dismissive. Shisui’s gaze sharpens, just a bit. Itachi lifts his eyes, just enough to acknowledge Gaara… and then returns them to the floor, as if to say: Noted.

The sand at Gaara’s feet trembles, hungry.

Which of them will you have to fight? Then the PA system crackles above you.

BZZZT.

The screen on the wall lights up, the words:

NEXT MATCH

The names begin to flash, randomizing… blurring through all the names top and bottom.

OROCHIMARU MINATO NAMIKAZE NEJI HYUGA ITACHI UCHIHA SHISUI UCHIHA GAARA YOU

RESULTS:

GAARA YOU