Bully Lord In the Chunin Exam (NarutoVerse)

James Khan jolted awake to a voice that seemed to echo directly inside his skull, devoid of any physical source, yet undeniably present. It was mechanical, cold, and utterly devoid of emotion, much like a pre-recorded announcement on a subway.

"[Congratulations! James Khan's brain data was successfully uploaded to Kurotora Shigeno's body.]"

For a disoriented moment, James clung to the fading tendrils of sleep, desperately hoping this was just a particularly bizarre dream. Maybe he'd eaten too much cheese before bed? Brain data upload? What in the sci-fi movie was that? But the lingering chill seeping into his skin from the hard ground beneath him felt stubbornly real. He cautiously cracked open his eyelids, and the blurry shapes swam into focus, solidifying into the contours of an unfamiliar room.

No sterile white walls of his apartment. No familiar posters of his favorite bands. This was… wood. Rough-hewn wooden walls enclosed him, smelling faintly of damp earth and something else, something subtly… piney? The light was dim, filtering from a single, softly glowing lamp perched precariously on a low, equally wooden table. It cast long, dancing shadows across the room, making the already unfamiliar space feel even more alien.

Just as he was starting to process the strangeness, a voice, raspy and laced with irritation, cut through the silence. It sounded old, definitely old, like gravel being churned in a cement mixer.

"Oi! Kuro?! How long are you going to sleep like a dead log?"

The voice was close, too close. James, or… Kuro? He still felt like James, but the voice in his head had been awfully specific. He pushed himself upright, every muscle protesting with a stiff, rusty creak. His body felt… different. Heavier, somehow. And definitely not accustomed to sleeping on what felt like a wooden floor. He blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from his mind, and turned his head towards the source of the voice.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the corridor beyond, was an old man. Hair as white as fresh snow crowned his head, contrasting sharply with the deep lines etched into his face, lines that spoke of years lived under harsh sun and biting winds. His eyes, however, were anything but old. They were sharp, piercing, like chips of obsidian, and they fixed on Kuro with an intensity that made him instinctively want to shrink back. There was something vaguely familiar about the old man, a sense of… recognition flickering at the edge of his awareness. Like a half-remembered face from a dream.

"Who… who are you?" The question tumbled out of Kuro's mouth before he could stop it, sounding weak and uncertain even to his own ears.

The old man's reaction was instantaneous and decidedly un-fatherly. With a speed that belied his age, his hand shot out, connecting with the back of Kuro's head with a sharp thwack. It wasn't a playful tap; it was a solid, no-nonsense smack that sent a jolt of pain radiating through Kuro's skull.

"Drunk again, you idiot?!" the old man barked, his voice rising in volume and annoyance. "Honestly, Kuro, you have the memory of a goldfish! Are you drunk! Get up, you lazy Ass! We are leaving for Konoha. Konoha, you hear me? For the Chunin Exams!"

Konoha? Chunin Exams? The words slammed into Kuro's consciousness like a physical blow, even harder than the smack to the head. Konohagakure? The Hidden Leaf Village? Could it be…? His mind, still reeling from the bizarre awakening and the mechanical voice, was suddenly flooded with fragmented images, flashes of memories that weren't his, yet felt strangely… accessible. Ninjas, jutsu, chakra… it was like a chaotic jumble of anime tropes exploding in his brain.

"Konoha?" Kuro repeated, his voice a confused murmur. "Chunin Exam? Konohagakure? Are you… are you serious?"

The old man's already impressive eyebrows shot even higher, disappearing somewhere beneath his white hair. He stared at Kuro, his sharp eyes narrowing into slits of disbelief. "Yes, Konoha! K-O-N-O-H-A! Are you playing games with me now? How many Konoha villages do you think there are in the Land of Fire, you imbecile? One! Just one, and that's where you're going!"

James… no, Kuro, blinked, his mind racing. Land of Fire? This couldn't be real. It was like stepping directly into the middle of a Naruto fanfiction. But the cold floor, the wooden walls, the throbbing pain in his head… it all felt disconcertingly, overwhelmingly real. He was in Naruto? This was insane. Absolutely, certifiably insane. And yet…

The old man let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "Kuro, stop with the stupid questions! Why are you acting like you've lost your mind?! The others are waiting. You have to get to Konoha before the registration closes. Unless, of course," he added, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice, "you've suddenly decided you'd rather stay here and become a professional mushroom farmer."

Kuro's brain finally started to catch up, piecing together the fragments of information. The mechanical voice, the unfamiliar body, the old man, Konoha, Chunin Exams… It was all pointing in one direction, a direction so ludicrous it was almost comical. He was… transported? Transmigrated? Reincarnated? Whatever the term, he was clearly no longer James Khan, from Earth. He was… Kurotora Shigeno, apparently a ninja-in-training from some place called Tsukigakure, heading to Konoha for the Chunin Exams.

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, morphing into a slightly hysterical giggle. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, the words barely audible but heavy with disbelief. "When did my life become a poorly written isekai anime?"

He decided to play along, maybe just to buy himself some time to process this utter madness. With a dramatic sigh, he flopped back down onto the hard floor, feigning a return to sleep. "Wake up to reality… Old man… For now go play with ya'r grandchild!" he mumbled, pulling a non-existent blanket over his head.

The old man's reaction was immediate and explosive. Any semblance of patience he might have possessed vanished in a puff of smoke. "Ungrateful brat!" he roared, his voice echoing in the small room. "I raised you for fifteen years! Fifteen years, Kuro! I fed you, clothed you, poured my heart and soul into training you, taught you everything you know, and this is how you repay me? By acting like a spoiled child on the most important times of your life?"

Before Kuro could even register the shift in weight, the old man's foot connected with his side. Not a gentle nudge, but a solid, forceful kick that sent a sharp, searing pain shooting through his ribs. It was definitely not a dream. Dreams didn't hurt like this.

"Ouch! Okay, alright!" Kuro yelped, clutching his side and scrambling back into a sitting position, glaring at the old man with a mixture of pain and bewildered indignation. "No need to resort to violence! I'm up, I'm up!"

"Then get up properly!" the old man snapped, his obsidian eyes still blazing with annoyance. He gestured impatiently towards the corner of the room. "The others will be here any minute. You three are supposed to leave at dawn. And dawn, in case your brain is still marinating in sake, is rapidly approaching!"

Kuro, or Kurotora Shigeno, reluctantly heaved himself to his feet, wincing slightly as his ribs protested the movement. He rubbed his side, muttering under his breath about old men and their excessive use of force. He glanced around the room again, taking in the details more consciously this time. The wooden walls were indeed rough, almost rustic, and the low table in the center of the room was bare except for the lamp. In the corner, leaning against the wall, was a long, slender object wrapped in cloth. A sword, perhaps?

His gaze drifted towards a small, tarnished mirror hanging on the wall near the door. Hesitantly, he approached it, his heart pounding with a strange mix of dread and morbid curiosity. He had to see. He had to know what… Kuro looked like.

He raised his head, his eyes meeting his reflection.

It wasn't his face. Definitely, unequivocally not James Khan's face.

Staring back at him was a young man, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with sharp, angular features. Dark, almost black eyes, framed by equally dark, straight eyebrows, stared back with an expression of bewildered confusion that mirrored his own. His hair was black too, short and neatly styled, falling just above his forehead. It was… not unattractive. In fact, in a strange, almost detached way, he could admit that Kurotora Shigeno was rather… handsome. But it wasn't him. It was someone else. Completely, utterly someone else.

Kuro reached up a hand, touching his face tentatively. The skin was smooth, unfamiliar, yet undeniably… his. Or rather, Kuro's. This wasn't a dream. This was real. He was Kurotora Shigeno now. James Khan was… gone. Or at least, James Khan's consciousness was now residing in this… Kurotora Shigeno's body.

A strange, unsettling sensation bubbled up inside him, a mix of panic, disbelief, and a bizarre sense of… fascination. He was in another world. A world of ninjas and chakra and Chunin Exams. A world that until yesterday had existed only in the realm of fiction. And he was in it.

The old man's voice, gruff and impatient, broke through his stunned contemplation. "Don't just stand there staring at yourself like a lovesick fool! You wanted to prove yourself at the Chunin Exams, right? Been yammering about it for months! Or have you suddenly decided you're too scared to face a few genin from other villages? Afraid you might actually have to fight someone who isn't a training dummy?"

The sarcastic jab, though delivered with characteristic bluntness, snapped Kuro out of his internal turmoil. Annoyance, a familiar and grounding emotion, flared up within him. "Of course not!" he retorted, turning away from the mirror and facing the old man with a newfound spark of defiance. "Afraid? Please. I can handle it. Bring on the genin, the chunin, the jonin, the whole darn ninja world! I'll show them what Kurotora Shigeno is made of!" He puffed out his chest, trying to project an air of confidence he definitely didn't feel.

The old man snorted derisively, a sound like air escaping a punctured tire. He tossed a bundle of dark fabric at Kuro. "Here. Wear this. Don't go looking like you just crawled out of a ditch. Try to maintain some semblance of professionalism, at least until you inevitably embarrass yourself in the first round."

Kuro caught the clothes, unfolding them to reveal a set of dark, practical-looking shinobi attire. Black pants, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a dark grey vest. He quickly changed, the clothes fitting surprisingly well, as if they were tailored specifically for him… or rather, for Kuro's body. The fabric was comfortable, surprisingly light and flexible, allowing for easy movement. He felt… strangely at ease in them, as if this unfamiliar garb was somehow… right.

He emerged from behind the low table, now dressed in the shinobi outfit. The old man gave him a cursory once-over, a grunt of something that might have been grudging approval. "Finally. Let's go." He turned and headed towards the door, gesturing for Kuro to follow.

Kuro followed him out of the room and into the pre-dawn chill. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine trees, stronger now than it had been inside. They stepped out into a narrow path winding through tall, towering trees, their leaves rustling softly in the gentle morning breeze. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, painting the horizon in hues of soft grey and pale pink. They were in a forest, or at least, on the edge of one. A narrow, winding path stretched before them, disappearing into the rolling hills in the distance.

Kuro took a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs. It was… beautiful. Despite the bizarre circumstances, despite the confusion and the nagging sense of unreality, there was a certain undeniable beauty to this world.

They started walking, the old man setting a brisk pace, his steps surprisingly light and agile for someone his age. Silence descended between them, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the crunch of their feet on the path. The old man walked with a purpose, his gaze fixed ahead, as if already miles away in his thoughts. Kuro, still trying to reconcile himself to his new reality, struggled to keep up, his mind a whirlwind of questions and anxieties.

After a while, the old man, without breaking stride, spoke, his voice sharp and cutting through the silence. "Oi, Kuro!" he called out, his tone laced with a familiar blend of impatience and expectation. "Don't disappoint me this time. Do better than last time. No more of that… uselessness. Understand?"

Kuro blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden address. Uselessness? Last time? He had no idea what the old man was talking about. He didn't even know what Kurotora Shigeno had done before, let alone what he had failed at. But the old man's words, though harsh, sparked a faint flicker of something within him. A sense of… obligation? Expectation? He felt like he should know what the old man was referring to, like there was a piece of his memory missing, a gap in his understanding of… Kuro's past. It was frustrating, like trying to grasp a half-remembered dream.

He forced himself to focus on the present, on the path stretching ahead, on the old man's retreating back. He needed to learn. He needed to figure out who Kurotora Shigeno was, what this Chunin Exam was all about in this timeline, and how the heck he was going to survive in this crazy ninja world.

"So," Kuro ventured, his voice slightly breathless from trying to keep up with the old man's pace, "what's the plan? For the Chunin Exams, I mean."

The old man snorted, a short, dismissive sound. "Plan? What plan? Your plan is to prove yourself. To show everyone, especially yourself, that you're not just a waste of space. Or have you already given up on your grand dreams of becoming a… what was it? A legendary shinobi? A kage-level ninja? Don't tell me you've suddenly developed stage fright now, after all that boasting."

Kuro's brows furrowed in confusion. Kage-level ninja? He had said that? Or rather, Kuro had said that? He had no recollection of ever wanting to be Kage. In fact, the whole idea felt… foreign, almost ridiculous. He was James Khan, College Student. He knew about mathematics and science, not chakra. He knew about chemical reaction, not jutsu. He definitely didn't aspire to leadership roles in fictional ninja villages.

"Shinobi, huh?" Kuro muttered, more to himself than to the old man. "I'm not even from Konoha, why would I say I want to be Hokage!" The words slipped out before he could censor them, a bewildered and slightly sarcastic comment on the absurdity of the situation.

The old man stopped dead in his tracks, whirling around to face Kuro, his obsidian eyes widening in genuine surprise for the first time since Kuro had woken up. "What?!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in incredulous shock. "You're not even from Konoha? What in the name of the Sage of Six Paths are you talking about, you blockhead?! Of course you're not from Konoha! You finally realise that. You should give some respect to Tsukigakure. People will think you are Konoha spy. It's just you who always thought Hokage's are cool. And wanted to become like them."

They resumed walking, the old man's pace slightly slower now, his brow still furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern. Kuro walked beside him, his mind still reeling from the conversation. Tsukigakure? Spy? Hokage? His head was spinning. This was all too much, too fast. He felt a desperate urge to just… leave. To wake up from this bizarre dream and find himself back in his own bed, in his own world, study and complaining about deadlines, not ninja exams.

As they rounded a bend in the path, the trees thinned, and a clearing opened up before them. Standing near a rough-hewn wooden gate, bathed in the soft morning light, were two figures. A girl with vibrant red hair that cascaded down her back like a fiery waterfall, and a guy with a dark eyepatch covering his left eye, his right eye gleaming with an almost unsettling intensity.

The old man grunted, a sound that served as both a greeting and an announcement. "Alright, Reika, Xero, we're here. Took Kuro long enough to finally crawl out of bed. Probably still hungover from last night's… 'training session'."

The red-haired girl, Reika, grinned, her smile wide and infectious. "Hello, Lord Isamu!" she chirped, her voice bright and cheerful. The eyepatch guy, Xero, nodded respectfully. "Good morning, Lord Isamu."

Lord Isamu? Kuro's head swiveled between the old man and his two companions. Lord? Was this old geezer some kind of… village elder? Or worse, a feudal lord? This was getting more and more complicated by the second.

Just as his brain was struggling to process this new piece of information, that cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind again, startling him.

"[Incoming System Message: Hello, Host. Identifying team members. Designated teammates for the Chunin Exam: Reika and Xero. Affiliation: Tsukigakure. Current Objective: Participate in the Chunin Exam and achieve Chunin rank. Further mission details will be provided upon arrival at Konohagakure. Warning: Host's previous strength parameters are currently sealed to facilitate DNA integration and system recalibration. Please adjust to your new physical capabilities. Power recalibration process will commence upon arrival at Konoha. System will now enter offline mode for optimal integration and recalibration. Thank you for your cooperation.]"

The voice abruptly ceased, leaving Kuro standing there, gaping like a fish out of water. Sealed? Recalibrated? Offline mode?

Isamu clapped his hands together, his sharp eyes scanning over the three of them. "Okay, you three. Time to go. Konoha awaits. I'll meet you there later. Have to… finalize some… arrangements." He waved a dismissive hand, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

Reika bounced on the balls of her feet, her grin widening. "Got it, Lord Isamu! Don't worry about us! We'll make Tsukigakure proud!" She turned to Kuro, her bright green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Come on, Kuro, wake up, sleepyhead! Let's get going! Konoha, here we come!"

Xero cracked his knuckles, a low, menacing sound that sent a shiver down Kuro's spine despite himself. "Yeah," he growled, his single visible eye gleaming with anticipation. "I'm itching for a good fight. Let's see what kind of opponents Konoha has to offer! Chunin Exam, here we come! Time to show them what Tsukigakure ninjas are made of!"

Before Kuro could even process the system message, let alone formulate a coherent response, Reika and Xero each grabbed one of his arms, effectively sandwiching him between their boundless energy and dragging him towards the gate, and beyond.

Kuro sighed, a long, drawn-out exhale of resignation. Just being dragged along, he thought wryly, as the wooden gate of… Tsukigakure?… receded behind them. This was going to be a long, and probably very, very strange, journey.