It was still midday, and the izakaya was sparsely populated. The spot chosen by Kakashi, Asuma, and Kurenai was particularly quiet, so even though Asuma spoke in a low voice, his words carried clearly to the others.
"You're confident, huh, Asuma?"
Kurenai frowned slightly at the tone of Asuma's statement. As a female jōnin, she had her own pride and strength. She didn't think herself any weaker than her male counterparts. Though relatively new to her rank, she believed she was no less capable than Asuma or Kakashi when it came to guiding her team.
"Shikamaru might've graduated as the top of his class at the Academy, but it's been a while since then. His peers have all grown since," she said, not backing down.
"Calling him the strongest genin might be a bit of a stretch," Kakashi added, a rare glint of interest appearing in his usually drowsy eyes. "Sasuke and Naruto have improved a lot lately. If Shikamaru underestimates them, he might find himself in trouble."
"I wouldn't dare underestimate an Uchiha… or the Nine-Tails brat," Asuma replied coolly, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "But honestly, even without this Chūnin Exam, I was already planning to recommend Shikamaru for promotion."
Kakashi and Kurenai exchanged looks of mild surprise.
It was true that each village could nominate its own genin for chūnin promotion through internal assessments, but the joint exams were still the most prestigious—and competitive—route. Promotions earned through them held more weight.
To hear that Asuma would've put Shikamaru forward regardless of the exams was… unusual.
"I play shōgi with him all the time," Asuma continued, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Not once have I ever beaten him. Most games don't last beyond thirty moves before I'm checkmated."
"He plays aggressively—fast and relentless. But at the same time, he sets up traps, layers of strategy, so that even if he's ahead, he never lets down his guard. Always calculating. Always two steps ahead."
Asuma's voice had a mix of pride and frustration. "He treats every move like life or death. That's the kind of mindset he has."
"Still," Kurenai pressed, brows furrowed slightly, "judging his readiness based just on shōgi seems a bit… hasty, don't you think?"
Her words weren't just doubt—they carried concern. After all, recommending someone for chūnin carried responsibility. Shikamaru was still so young. Barely a year out of the Academy. Could he really shoulder that rank?
Asuma chuckled, shaking his head. "I haven't told my team yet, but this exam is done in squads. Not individuals."
He tilted his chin toward Kakashi. "That's where we're different. I don't have to worry about them."
"If Shikamaru decides to take the exam, Ino and Chōji will follow. No hesitation."
"You can't say the same for your team, can you, Kakashi? Naruto and Sasuke… not exactly the most harmonious pair."
Kakashi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn't argue that one.
"And your team too, Kurenai," Asuma added, turning to her. "I know they squabble now and then."
Kurenai hesitated, then nodded. It was true. Hinata was quiet and reserved, Kiba outspoken and proud, and Shino—despite seeming aloof—was surprisingly competitive. They didn't clash as intensely as Naruto and Sasuke, but there were frequent disagreements.
"My team, though? Never a single argument."
Asuma exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift lazily through the air like a sword carving through clouds.
"That's all thanks to Shikamaru," he said with a half-smile. "Honestly, sometimes even I feel like he's more in charge than I am. He's the unspoken leader. And what's more—Ino and Chōji accept that without complaint."
"It's not just friendship," Asuma went on. "Their bond feels more like a chain of command. Shikamaru leads; they follow. And he's earned it. He supports them in everyday life and brings out their strengths during missions."
"That kind of leadership," he said, his tone steady, "is beyond what any genin should have."
"So yes, I'm sure of it—Shikamaru already has what it takes to be a chūnin. Among all the genin entering this exam, his qualifications are among the best."
Kakashi and Kurenai were silent.
They knew what it meant for two genin to trust someone that much. Even Kakashi, a prodigy in his youth, had experienced tension with Obito. But Shikamaru? He commanded complete loyalty without even trying.
But Asuma wasn't done.
"That's not even the scariest thing about him," he said, tone shifting.
That surprised them. So far, Asuma had spoken with admiration. Now his voice held something else—unease?
"Even Shikamaru himself might not realize it," Asuma muttered, narrowing his eyes. "He's like a tireless beast. When it comes to learning—jutsu, strategy, knowledge—he's obsessed. In a way that's… unnerving."
"His intellect is off the charts, but so is his stamina for learning. He doesn't burn out. Doesn't slack off. After our mission in the Land of Waves, when there was nothing urgent to do, he spent days training nonstop. No rest. No play. Just studying and refining his taijutsu until it was terrifying."
"And yet, he never looked worn down. No fatigue, no burnout. He acted like it was normal."
Asuma fell silent for a moment, memories surfacing in his mind—distant ones.
He remembered long ago, standing beside his father, seeing a pale, quiet man with piercing eyes.
A man of unrelenting ambition and genius. A man named Orochimaru.
The same eerie intensity. The same obsession with growth.
"Shikamaru… you'll need to surpass that man in one thing: your heart."
Asuma crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray, exhaling deeply.
Meanwhile…
Oblivious to the comparisons being drawn between him and a wanted criminal, Shikamaru had already entered the exam classroom with Ino and Chōji in tow.
Inside, genin from various villages sat scattered in small groups. Shikamaru scanned the room, but didn't spot any fellow Leaf genin. After a moment of thought, he understood why.
The Leaf had deployed disguised chūnin—like Izumo and Kotetsu—pretending to be genin for evaluation purposes. Their goal wasn't just to test strength but to filter out Leaf genin who weren't ready, avoiding unnecessary deaths and protecting the village's reputation.
Foreign genin, on the other hand? If they died—well, that wasn't Konoha's problem. Better fewer future enemies.
Shikamaru's reputation hadn't yet spread to these outsiders, so when the trio entered, they only drew a few cursory glances before the room returned to its usual murmur.
Taking a seat near the back, Shikamaru sat quietly, scanning the room. No familiar faces—but plenty worth noting.
He watched the way people moved, talked, adjusted their posture. Left-handed. Right-handed. Nose rubbing, cheek scratching, palm rubbing—all unconscious habits.
They were small things, but in the shinobi world, such tells were gold. You could see through a henge, mimic someone flawlessly in a transformation, or lay subtle psychological traps.
To most, these were quirks. To Shikamaru—they were data.