Naruto: We Agreed on a Simulation, But They Actually Came to Life?

Chapter 89: Chapter 89: The Person Who Feeds the Cat

Daybreak.

Thirty-seven students gathered at the school gates; not a single one was late.

The instructor stood at the front, offering no unnecessary words.

"Follow me."

The line moved down a narrow alley along the edge of the village, turning several corners before entering a semi-underground structure.

The water on the floor rose above the tops of their feet. Torches lined the walls, casting a dim, yellow glow.

Kitahara Kaede walked in the middle of the group, his gaze sweeping the surroundings.

It was a closed space, roughly four hundred square meters. Stone walls enclosed them on all sides, with only a few narrow slits in the ceiling for ventilation. The only exit was the iron door they had just entered through.

To the north stood a high platform.

Three men stood atop it. The man in the center, the eldest of the three, scanned the thirty-seven students below one by one.

"The rules."

"Groups of three, determined by lottery. One survivor per group. The last ones standing graduate."

Silence fell over the crowd for two seconds.

Someone swallowed hard; several students stiffened their shoulders. From a corner came a heavy, ragged breath, which the person quickly suppressed.

Kitahara Kaede remained still, showing no reaction.

He knew the origin of this rule. Years ago, Zabuza had single-handedly slaughtered an entire graduating class, leaving a massive gap in that year’s roster. Only after that had the rule been changed to "one survivor per three."

In the Bloody Mist, this was actually considered lenient.

A cloth bag was tossed down from the platform.

"Draw your own."

The bag was passed through the crowd, and each person reached in to pull out a wooden slip. When it reached Kitahara Kaede, he pinched one out.

Group Seven.

He tucked the slip into his pocket and discreetly glanced toward Terumi Mei.

She was looking down at her own slip, her expression neutral.

Group Four.

They weren’t in the same group.

Kitahara Kaede breathed a sigh of relief. This had been his greatest concern last night, and now it was gone.

"Group up."

The crowd began to shift.

Kitahara Kaede walked to the northeast corner of the area, where his two teammates were already waiting. One boy and one girl, both in their early teens.

The boy was half a head shorter than him, his grip tight around his kunai. The girl had her hair in a short ponytail, her lips pressed into a thin line.

As they saw him approach, they both took a step back.

Three people, standing in a triangle.

Not far away, Terumi Mei had also joined her group. Two boys. One was sturdy and muscular; the other was lean and lanky.

She remembered the sturdy one. During break, she had seen him split his rice ball in half to give to someone who hadn’t brought lunch, claiming, "I can’t finish it all anyway." The lean one spent most of his time sleeping on his desk, though his ninjutsu grades weren’t bad.

Terumi Mei drew her kunai from her waist and gripped it firmly.

On the platform, the proctor raised his hand.

"Begin."

...

Kitahara Kaede moved.

While the boy opposite him was still hesitating over who to target first, Kaede was already in his face.

A palm strike slammed into the boy’s wrist, sending the kunai flying. A knee drove into his abdomen, doubling him over, and Kaede seized the back of his neck, slamming him down into the water.

A splash of water erupted, and then there was stillness.

Less than ten seconds.

The girl had witnessed the entire process. The kunai in her hand slipped into the water, and she collapsed backward, her body dragging a white line through the water.

"No... please... I surrender... I beg you..."

Kitahara Kaede walked toward her.

It was over.

He stood there for a moment, flicking the water off his hand.

Members of other groups who were currently fighting glanced over, their movements slowing for a fraction of a second.

Kaede ignored them, retreating to the corner to lean against the wall.

...

Terumi Mei did not make the first move.

The sturdy boy charged first, a punch whistling through the air toward her face. She leaned to the side, dodging it.

A second punch. She stepped back half a pace, and the fist grazed her shoulder.

A third punch—she dodged again.

Three strikes, all air.

She evaded with ease, barely moving her feet, shifting only her upper body.

The sturdy boy gasped for air, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes. He couldn’t hit her.

The lean boy hovered a few paces away, motionless, waiting for an opening.

The three of them froze in a stalemate.

Terumi Mei held her kunai, her arm hanging by her side rather than raised in a guard.

The sturdy boy charged again. This time he was more aggressive, throwing a flurry of punches.

Terumi Mei stepped aside and tilted her head, dodging twice, her footing remaining steady.

She could have countered. She could have countered from the very first punch.

But she didn’t raise her hand.

Right then, a voice drifted over from the other side of the area. It wasn’t loud, but it carried through the gaps between the clashing of metal.

"I can’t do it."

Terumi Mei’s gaze was drawn toward the sound.

Two groups away, a small, frail boy stood in the water. His kunai hung limp at his side, the tip pointing down. His two teammates were closing in on him from both sides; he didn’t raise his blade, nor did he retreat.

The proctor on the platform looked down.

Then, he moved.

There was no warning, no wasted movement.

By the time the kunai plunged in, the boy was still standing with his arms at his sides. He looked down at his own chest, his knees buckled, and he slowly sank into the water.

The proctor pulled out the kunai, flicked the blood off, and leaped back onto the platform.

The boy’s two teammates froze for a heartbeat, then resumed killing each other.

Terumi Mei’s fingers tightened. The hilt of the kunai dug into her palm.

If she didn’t act, that would be her fate. Either you kill, or all three of you die. There was no third option.

She pulled her gaze back to the sturdy boy in front of her. He was hunched over, panting; having missed so many punches, his stamina was depleted. The lean boy was still crouching in the back, waiting.

Terumi Mei exhaled, and then she moved.

Seeing her charge, the sturdy boy swung a punch instinctively. It wasn’t slow, but Terumi Mei was faster.

She didn’t dodge this time.

She sliced underneath the trajectory of the punch, and her kunai slid through the opening in his guard, burying itself beneath his ribs.

One strike.

The sturdy boy froze. He looked down, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Then, the sound of rushing air came from behind.

The lean boy finally made his move, his kunai aiming straight for her back.

Terumi Mei didn’t look back.

The motion of withdrawing her blade transitioned into a spin. The edge of the blade traced an arc, blocking the stab from behind and slicing through the opponent’s forearm in one fluid motion.

The weapon flew from his hand.

She delivered the finishing blow.

There was no pause between the two actions. She had possessed this level of skill from the very beginning.

The surface of the water grew still once more.

Terumi Mei stood between the two bodies, her kunai hanging at her side. She looked down at the blood on her hand—warm, dripping through her fingers and dispersing into the water.

Her stomach churned. She bit her lip, forcing the nausea down.

She didn’t look at the bodies on the ground. Instead, her gaze crossed half the arena, landing on the northeast corner.

A person was standing there.

There was almost no blood on his clothes. He leaned against the wall, quiet and still, as if everything happening around him had nothing to do with him.

Terumi Mei recognized him.

Last night, by the river.

She had brought dried fish to feed that cat, only to find crumbs of a biscuit already lying before it. A person had been sitting on a rock nearby, facing the river, without saying a word.

The same person.

This person could be kind enough to feed a stray cat in the middle of the night, yet could kill his own classmates with a blank expression.

As if sensing something, he tilted his head slightly.

Their eyes met across the examination grounds.

Around them, others were still fighting, the sounds of splashing water and clashing metal blending together.

He glanced at her.

Then, he looked away.

On the platform, the proctor’s gaze swept across the field. He paused on Kitahara Kaede and made a mark on the roster. He looked up, spotted Terumi Mei, paused again, and made another mark.

Closing the roster, he said something to the man beside him.

The iron door opened from the outside.

"Those who survived, get out."

Twelve people emerged from the water.

The moment Terumi Mei stepped through the iron gates, the outside light flooded in, forcing her to squint. Having stayed below for so long, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

A few paces ahead, Kitahara Kaede was also walking out. His silhouette was clean, devoid of any struggle.

Terumi Mei stared at his back.

’Just what kind of person is he?’