Bully Lord In the Chunin Exam (NarutoVerse)

"Yeah, what Temari is saying is… actually kinda smart, you know?" 

Kankuro drawled, piling on the sarcasm thick enough to spread on toast. 

"Unless your idea of 'a good time' involves turning into sentient compost fertilizer about five minutes before the actual finish line?" 

He paused, as if genuinely considering this horrifying possibility. "'Cause personally? I'm aiming for a stylish entrance into that tower, guys. You know? Hair all perfectly coiffed. Puppets? Impeccably polished. Not all… covered in dirt and… genin guts." 

He actually shuddered at the very thought, wincing dramatically and pulling a truly impressive 'oh god, the horror' face. "Seriously. Gross." He wrinkled his nose, just for added theatrical flourish. 

"Save all your 'get-pumped-up-and-violent' enthusiasm for the actual challenge, why don't you? Because this," he continued, and then waved a hand – all dismissive flicks and utter disdain – at Kuro and his team, "this is just… pre-show filler material. And not even remotely good pre-show filler, if you want my honest opinion." Kankuro, shade ninja master, dropping truth bombs of dismissive boredom like they were going out of style.

Kuro finally let out this quiet sigh – more of a barely audible puff of air escaping than an actual dramatic exhale of tension. Still, it was a release of something. Temari, he mentally conceded, actually had a point there. A strategically sound point, even. Tangling with the Sand Siblings, right here, right now? Yeah, that would be like using a tactical nuke to deal with a particularly annoying mosquito. Utter overkill. Ridiculously messy. 

And, in the grand scheme of scroll-collecting and exam-passing, entirely and completely pointless. Especially when they were still operating on next to zero solid intel about Gaara's actual fight-metrics in a proper, drawn-out ninja dust-up. He knew the highlight reels, the campfire stories, the whole whispered sand-demon legendarium. But direct, personal experience of getting in the ring with that level of… well, whatever Gaara was dishing out? 

Nope. Zero. Not today. Not without a very, very good strategic reason, and definitely not just for ego-stroking or pre-exam ninja peacocking. Discretion, as always, whispered his inner pragmatic voice, discretion was very much the preferred option, thank you very much. Discretion, and a very strong aversion to potentially getting turned into a rather unimpressive pile of sentient sandcastle by an opponent you hadn't properly analyzed yet.

Xero, though you could practically see the tiny cartoon steam puffs coming out of his ears from sheer frustration at not getting to have a good old-fashioned ninja throwdown, and clearly still smarting from Gaara's 'not worth my time' burn, just couldn't resist getting in one last verbal poke. Even with Temari's (sort of) truce in the air. He let out this theatrical scoff – big, loud, practically vibrated the leaves on the trees around them, designed to radiate maximum levels of mock-offended pride. 

"Oh, don't worry, 'Puppet Master extraordinaire'," Xero shot back at Kankuro, voice positively dripping with more theatrical sarcasm than a Shakespearian tragedy performed by clowns. "We wouldn't even dream of, you know, accidentally messing up your… immaculate puppet aesthetic with our lowly 'genin guts'. Perish the thought! And 'pre-show filler material'?" 

Xero went on, voice escalating in faux-outrage. "Ouch, dude. Harsh. We were clearly aiming for 'headline act' material, but okay, fine, 'warm-up fodder,' whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better about… your puppets." 

He finished off his semi-insult-semi-rant with this wildly exaggerated eye-roll, aiming it right at Kankuro, laser-precise and designed to convey maximum levels of teen angst and offended dignity. Despite the last-ditch verbal jabs though, you could see Xero visibly reining himself in. Not another muscle twitched towards escalating anything. 

Even Xero, bless his chaotic soul, understood the basic ninja life principle of… well, maybe not actual wisdom per se, but definitely 'not getting turned into sentient sand granules just for the sake of proving a point'. Progress, of sorts.

Reika, ever the voice of pure, distilled, un-cut pragmatism in their little travelling theatrical troupe of a genin team, gave a nod. Small. Barely there, if you weren't actively looking for it. But it was a nod nonetheless. 

A tiny, almost imperceptible inclination of her head that translated, in Reika-speak, to a wholehearted "yeah, okay, makes sense. Pointless battle? Hard pass, thanks." 

It was a silent, efficient little acknowledgment of Temari's, let's face it, semi-sensible attempt at a truce. A nonverbal pact whispered across the tension-laden clearing. 

'Let's just… not do the whole dramatic ninja death match thing right now, okay? Agreed? Cool.' Reika and 'pointless battles' had what could be politely described as a 'complicated' relationship. Okay, maybe 'complicated' is underselling it. 

More like a relationship based on Reika's unwavering commitment to avoiding them with the fervor most people reserve for avoiding tax audits or telemarketers. Pointless battles? For Reika, that was right up there with watching paint dry or listening to someone explain cryptocurrency for the tenth time – utterly inefficient, maximally irritating, and to be avoided at all costs unless absolutely, strategically mandatory. Which this, decidedly, was not.

Kuro, after a blink-brief moment of internal… back-and-forth – picture the 'must… engage… Gaara… for… science?' impulse wrestling in a tiny, thought-bubble cage match with the slightly more dominant 'hmm, maybe… not… spontaneously combust… just… yet?' survival instinct – finally delivered his verdict. 

Which in Kuro-communication-style meant… a nod. Subtle. Minimalist to the point of being almost non-existent. It was directed vaguely in the general direction of the Sand Siblings, less a grand pronouncement of peace and more of a… almost imperceptible dip of his chin. A visual cue that, if you were really paying attention and spoke fluent Kuro-nonverbal, translated to: "Okay, fine. Truce. For now."

Tactical retreat in the face of overwhelming sand-based existential threat? Nope, definitely not. Let's not use such… emotionally loaded terms. More like… strategic repositioning for optimal future engagement probability. 

Yes, that sounds much more… ninja-management-consultant appropriate. And definitely also for resource management purposes. 

Because, you know, wasting precious chakra and potentially limbs in a pre-exam scuffle? Wildly inefficient. Utterly suboptimal resource allocation. And Kuro, above all, was a ninja who appreciated efficient resource management. 

Especially when that resource was, say, 'not being turned into gritty desert art by a sand demon kid'. Efficiency first, existential risk later. That was the Kuro way.