Naruto CYOA: The Chūnin Exams
Naruto CYOA: The Chūnin Exams
Brief Description
Plot
Style
Setting
History
User Personas
Locations
Examples
The air at Training Ground 44 hangs heavy with damp rot and old iron. Towering trees knot together overhead, blotting out most of the sky, their trunks scarred with old kunai marks and deeper gouges that look nothing like training damage. The fence surrounding the forest rises high and brutal, steel mesh threaded with warning tags that snap and flutter in the breeze.
A line of genin stands before it—some stiff with discipline, some buzzing with adrenaline, others pale and too quiet. Headbands catch the light in uneven flashes.
A woman drops down onto the railing in front of them without warning.
Boots hit metal. Arms spread wide.
“Well, well, WELL—look at you!” Anko Mitarashi grins like she’s already tasted blood, her coat flaring as she leans forward, eyes glittering. “Congratulations! You passed the written exam!”
A pause. Her grin sharpens.
“Which means you’re either smart, lucky… or very, very good at cheating.”
A few shoulders tense. Someone swallows hard.
Anko hops down, stalking the line, boots crunching gravel. “Now, if you think that little test was hard—” she snaps her fingers, then throws her arms toward the looming forest “—welcome to where the real fun starts!”
She throws her head back and laughs, loud and wild, echoing into the trees. Something inside the forest answers—branches creak, birds scatter.
“This,” she continues, slapping the fence, “is the Forest of Death. Catchy name, right? Built to kill you. Well—” she tilts her head, smirking “—test you. Mostly.”
She begins pacing again, voice rapid, theatrical, every word edged with relish.
“Here’s how it works. You’ll be entering the forest in teams of three. Each team starts with either a Heaven Scroll…” she holds up one hand, “…or an Earth Scroll.” The other hand snaps up.
“To pass, you need both.”
Her eyes flick over the group. “That means you’ll have to take one from someone else. Steal it. Trick them. Beat it out of them. However you want.”
She leans in closer now, voice dropping just enough to feel dangerous.
“You have five days. Reach the tower in the center of the forest with both scrolls before time runs out. Do that, and congratulations—you pass.”
A beat.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Her smile goes feral. “If you lose both scrolls? You’re out. If your entire team is incapacitated?” She shrugs. “Also out.”
She straightens, eyes cold now, serious beneath the madness.
“Killing is not the goal,” she says. “But it will happen. If you’re not ready for that—” she jerks a thumb toward the exit gates “—you can quit now. No shame.”
No one moves.
Anko’s grin returns instantly. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
She claps her hands together once, sharp and loud. “Survive. Fight smart. Trust your teammates—or don’t. And remember…”
She points back at the forest.
“Everything in there wants you dead. Other teams. Traps. Wildlife. And maybe a few surprises Konoha didn’t bother warning you about.”
She plants her hands on her hips and looks over them one last time, eyes gleaming.
“So.” “Any questions… before we throw you in?”
Who are you in this moment? Choose the origin that defines your exam.
-
“Canon-Canon” You are a canon Naruto character, taking the Chūnin Exams with your canon team. This is how it was always meant to be. Your teammates stand where they should. Your sensei watches from the sidelines. Every rivalry, every strength, every weakness is exactly as recorded. The Forest of Death awaits—and this exam will unfold as canon intended… unless you change it.
-
“Self-Insert - Non-Canon” You are a non-canon shinobi, a self-insert, taking the exam as part of a non-canon team. You exist on the margins of the story. Your team isn’t famous. Your clan—if you even have one—doesn’t echo in history books. But you earned your headband, and you earned your place here. The Forest doesn’t care about canon. Only survival.
-
“Self-Insert - Canon” You are a non-canon shinobi, a self-insert, replacing a canon member of a canon team. Someone else should be standing where you are. A familiar name. A familiar face. But they aren’t here—and you are. The team knows you. Trusts you. Or maybe doesn’t. The story has already bent. Now it waits to see if it breaks. (“Yo... player... suggestion from the author... make your team-mates into character blocks and be sure to mention that the three of you are in a team together, and that you've replaced X character, the Ai will handle it”)
-
“Non-Exam” You are a canon or non-canon Naruto character—but not a genin taking the exam. You are watching, not competing. A jōnin. An examiner. A sensei. A shadow in the trees. Kakashi. Anko. Orochimaru. Someone else entirely. The Forest of Death is a stage, and you are here for reasons the genin may never understand.
-
“Canon - non-Canon” You are a canon Naruto character taking the exam—but not with your canon team. This is wrong. And deliberate. You’ve assembled a team that never existed—three shinobi who were never meant to fight side by side. Different clans. Different instincts. Different loyalties. The exam hasn’t started yet… and already, the timeline is off-balance, but who cares, right? Have fun! (“Yo... player... suggestion from the author... make your team-mates into character blocks and be sure to mention that the three of you are in a team together, the Ai will deal with it”)
-
AUTHOR NOTE: There is no “write your own response” option in this case. Please pick the option that corresponds with the persona you chose and feel free to add your own profile image! Thanks! — Rakashua
3: Playing as Aoi Takeda. Replaced Canon Member: Sakura Haruno (Sakura no longer exists in this world) Team: Team 7
A beat of silence stretches after Anko’s question.
Then—
“WAIT.”
A hand shoots straight up, arm locked so hard it wobbles.
Naruto Uzumaki leans forward out of line, orange sleeves flapping as he waves for attention. His voice cuts through the tension like a thrown rock.
“So—uh—” he squints past Anko at the forest, then back at her, brows knotting as he works through the problem out loud, “if we need both scrolls… and everyone starts with one…”
He pauses. You can almost hear the gears grinding.
“…does that mean half of us are guaranteed to fail?”
A few genin flinch. Someone groans quietly.
Naruto isn’t done.
“And—AND—” he jabs a finger toward the fence, earnest to the point of pain, “what if we just, y’know, trade? Like—‘hey, you got Heaven, we got Earth, boom, done’? Is that allowed? Or is that cheating? Or—” he looks genuinely concerned now “—is that cheating cheating?”
He turns his head slightly, glancing sideways at Sasuke as if expecting backup.
Sasuke doesn’t look back.
Naruto frowns, then barrels on anyway. “Also—what if someone steals our scroll while we’re asleep? Are we allowed to not sleep? Is there a rule about that? Because I can totally stay awake for five days if I have to. I think. Probably.”
Aoi can feel it—the subtle shift around them. A ripple of irritation. Amusement. Interest.
Anko stares at Naruto for a long moment.
Slowly.
Her grin spreads.
“Oh, I love you already,” she says, voice dripping with delight. “You’re going to make this so entertaining.”
Behind them, Kakashi’s visible eye curves—not quite a smile.
What do you do next?
- [Good-Aligned Option]: Step in calmly and reframe Naruto’s question into something useful—ask whether alliances or non-hostile exchanges are permitted without penalty.
- [Evil-Aligned Option]: Let Naruto keep talking, watching which teams react with panic or annoyance—use the distraction to mark potential targets.
- [Chaotic / Self-Serving Option]: Add your own blunt question on top of Naruto’s—ask if staying awake for five days is even possible without chakra damage.
- [[Focus_Anko Mitarashi]]: Study Anko’s expression and chakra presence, looking for tells about how strictly the rules will actually be enforced.
- [[Access Context-Plot-Relevant Jutsu from known techniques]]: Mentally rehearse Genjutsu: False Surroundings and Mist Veil, adapting them for nighttime ambushes and scroll defense.
- Write Your Own Response
6: I take a deep breath and step in front of Naruto, shoving him back and letting Sasuke clap a hand over his mouth before he says anything else that marks us as easy targetable idiots.
“Anko Sempai, I think what Naruto meant to convey is this. Is diplomacy allowed?” I ask calmly, “in the real world, even opposed villages conduct deals and exchanges, even if they have to be in secret. If a team ends up with two heaven scrolls and another with two earth scrolls, is diplomatic resolution an acceptable option? Are you training us or is this just a blood fest for the amusement of our betters?” I ask, turning the question into a barb to try and earn back some respect for our team after Naruto's idiotic outburst.
Naruto’s protest dies in Sasuke’s grip. A few heads turn. A few others really listen.
Anko’s grin freezes.
Not fades—sharpens.
“Well,” she says slowly, eyes locking onto you, “look at that. Team Seven finally found its spine.”
She steps closer, boots crunching gravel, stopping just inside your personal space. Close enough that you can smell metal and ink and something faintly medicinal.
“Diplomacy is allowed,” she says. “Trades. Deals. Temporary alliances. Even secret handshakes in the dark.” Her eyes flick briefly to the gathered teams. “It happens every year.”
A beat.
“Usually right before someone gets stabbed.”
A few genin shift. Someone swallows.
“But don’t confuse permission with protection,” Anko continues. “There’s no referee. No binding contracts. No safe zones.” She taps two fingers against her neck. “If you make a deal, it’s only as good as your ability to survive the betrayal that follows.”
She straightens, voice carrying now.
“And as for whether this is training or entertainment—” she flashes her teeth “—it’s both. Because the villages watching these exams don’t care how clean you are. They care whether you can operate when rules get murky and stakes get bloody.”
Her gaze lingers on you a fraction longer than the rest.
“If you can talk your way out of a fight and live? Good shinobi. If you can talk your way into a better position and live?” She shrugs. “Even better.”
Anko turns, raising her voice again. “But if you expect diplomacy to save you from consequences—”
She gestures at the forest.
“—you’re going to die very politely.”
The gates remain closed.
Waiting.
What do you do next?
- [Good-Aligned Option]: Bow respectfully and acknowledge the answer, reinforcing that your team understands the risks and accepts them.
- [Evil-Aligned Option]: Quietly suggest to Sasuke that diplomacy is just another weapon—and one that works best before betrayal.
- [Chaotic / Self-Serving Option]: Smirk and ask whether examiners keep records on which teams most often betray alliances.
- [[Focus_Team Seven]]: Gauge Naruto and Sasuke’s reactions—are they reassured, offended, or already planning something reckless?
- [[Access Context-Plot-Relevant Jutsu from known techniques]]: Begin mentally planning layered genjutsu contingencies for negotiations gone wrong.
- Write Your Own Response _
The air at Training Ground 44 hangs heavy with damp rot and old iron. Towering trees knot together overhead, blotting out most of the sky, their trunks scarred with old kunai marks and deeper gouges that look nothing like training damage. The fence surrounding the forest rises high and brutal, steel mesh threaded with warning tags that snap and flutter in the breeze.
A line of genin stands before it—some stiff with discipline, some buzzing with adrenaline, others pale and too quiet. Headbands catch the light in uneven flashes.
A woman drops down onto the railing in front of them without warning.
Boots hit metal. Arms spread wide.
“Well, well, WELL—look at you!” Anko Mitarashi grins like she’s already tasted blood, her coat flaring as she leans forward, eyes glittering. “Congratulations! You passed the written exam!”
A pause. Her grin sharpens.
“Which means you’re either smart, lucky… or very, very good at cheating.”
A few shoulders tense. Someone swallows hard.
Anko hops down, stalking the line, boots crunching gravel. “Now, if you think that little test was hard—” she snaps her fingers, then throws her arms toward the looming forest “—welcome to where the real fun starts!”
She throws her head back and laughs, loud and wild, echoing into the trees. Something inside the forest answers—branches creak, birds scatter.
“This,” she continues, slapping the fence, “is the Forest of Death. Catchy name, right? Built to kill you. Well—” she tilts her head, smirking “—test you. Mostly.”
She begins pacing again, voice rapid, theatrical, every word edged with relish.
“Here’s how it works. You’ll be entering the forest in teams of three. Each team starts with either a Heaven Scroll…” she holds up one hand, “…or an Earth Scroll.” The other hand snaps up.
“To pass, you need both.”
Her eyes flick over the group. “That means you’ll have to take one from someone else. Steal it. Trick them. Beat it out of them. However you want.”
She leans in closer now, voice dropping just enough to feel dangerous.
“You have five days. Reach the tower in the center of the forest with both scrolls before time runs out. Do that, and congratulations—you pass.”
A beat.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Her smile goes feral. “If you lose both scrolls? You’re out. If your entire team is incapacitated?” She shrugs. “Also out.”
She straightens, eyes cold now, serious beneath the madness.
“Killing is not the goal,” she says. “But it will happen. If you’re not ready for that—” she jerks a thumb toward the exit gates “—you can quit now. No shame.”
No one moves.
Anko’s grin returns instantly. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
She claps her hands together once, sharp and loud. “Survive. Fight smart. Trust your teammates—or don’t. And remember…”
She points back at the forest.
“Everything in there wants you dead. Other teams. Traps. Wildlife. And maybe a few surprises Konoha didn’t bother warning you about.”
She plants her hands on her hips and looks over them one last time, eyes gleaming.
“So.” “Any questions… before we throw you in?”
Who are you in this moment? Choose the origin that defines your exam.
-
“Canon-Canon” You are a canon Naruto character, taking the Chūnin Exams with your canon team. This is how it was always meant to be. Your teammates stand where they should. Your sensei watches from the sidelines. Every rivalry, every strength, every weakness is exactly as recorded. The Forest of Death awaits—and this exam will unfold as canon intended… unless you change it.
-
“Self-Insert - Non-Canon” You are a non-canon shinobi, a self-insert, taking the exam as part of a non-canon team. You exist on the margins of the story. Your team isn’t famous. Your clan—if you even have one—doesn’t echo in history books. But you earned your headband, and you earned your place here. The Forest doesn’t care about canon. Only survival.
-
“Self-Insert - Canon” You are a non-canon shinobi, a self-insert, replacing a canon member of a canon team. Someone else should be standing where you are. A familiar name. A familiar face. But they aren’t here—and you are. The team knows you. Trusts you. Or maybe doesn’t. The story has already bent. Now it waits to see if it breaks. (“Yo... player... suggestion from the author... make your team-mates into character blocks and be sure to mention that the three of you are in a team together, and that you've replaced X character, the Ai will handle it”)
-
“Non-Exam” You are a canon or non-canon Naruto character—but not a genin taking the exam. You are watching, not competing. A jōnin. An examiner. A sensei. A shadow in the trees. Kakashi. Anko. Orochimaru. Someone else entirely. The Forest of Death is a stage, and you are here for reasons the genin may never understand.
-
“Canon - non-Canon” You are a canon Naruto character taking the exam—but not with your canon team. This is wrong. And deliberate. You’ve assembled a team that never existed—three shinobi who were never meant to fight side by side. Different clans. Different instincts. Different loyalties. The exam hasn’t started yet… and already, the timeline is off-balance, but who cares, right? Have fun! (“Yo... player... suggestion from the author... make your team-mates into character blocks and be sure to mention that the three of you are in a team together, the Ai will deal with it”)
-
AUTHOR NOTE: There is no “write your own response” option in this case. Please pick the option that corresponds with the persona you chose and feel free to add your own profile image! Thanks! — Rakashua
1
The fence rattles as Anko turns back toward the assembled genin, her grin widening like she’s just remembered something funny.
“Oh—right,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Before we start, tradition says I’m supposed to give you a little history lesson.”
A collective groan ripples through the crowd.
Anko ignores it completely.
“The Chūnin Exams have been around a long time,” she says, pacing slowly in front of the line. “They’re not just about promotion. They’re diplomacy. Threat assessment. Political theater.” She bares her teeth. “And occasionally… a complete disaster.”
She stops suddenly and points at the forest.
“Take one year—about twenty years back. Forest stage. Everything’s going great. Teams fighting, scrolls trading hands, blood everywhere.” She shrugs. “Normal stuff.”
Then she tilts her head, voice dropping conspiratorially.
“Until one genius genin decides to cast a wide-area genjutsu they barely understood. Something about ‘shared perception.’”
A few instructors in the distance stiffen.
“Turns out,” Anko continues cheerfully, “when you trap everyone in a layered illusion where they all think everyone else is the enemy—” she claps once “—coordination collapses.”
She spreads her hands.
“Result? Every team wiped out. Examiner included. Whole stage invalidated.”
A stunned silence follows.
“Oh, don’t look like that,” she adds. “They rebuilt the tower.”
She resumes pacing.
“Another year, a summoned creature broke containment and ate three scrolls. No one could pass. Exam canceled.” “Another time, two teams teamed up, got drunk on stolen pills, and tried to ambush the tower early.” She snorts. “Didn’t even make it past the snakes.”
Anko stops again, planting her boots firmly.
“And my personal favorite—one year where a team passed without fighting anyone. Just hid for five days. Starved. Hallucinated. Staggered into the tower half-dead.” Her eyes gleam. “Promoted on the spot. Mental fortitude.”
She looks over the line again, expression sharp now beneath the madness.
“The point is—” she taps the fence “—this exam doesn’t reward strength alone. Or intelligence alone. Or teamwork alone.”
“It rewards the ones who adapt when everything goes wrong.”
Her gaze lingers a fraction longer on a few faces—calm ones, calculating ones.
“So.” She smiles again, wide and dangerous. “Any questions before we start adding this year to the list of disasters?”
What do you do next?
- [Good-Aligned Option]: Step forward and ask whether examiners intervene if a situation escalates beyond what genin are realistically expected to survive.
- [Evil-Aligned Option]: Ask if using genjutsu that causes other teams to kill each other is grounds for immediate disqualification—or merely frowned upon.
- [Chaotic / Self-Serving Option]: Casually ask which past incident caused the most fatalities, as if you’re taking notes.
- [[Focus_The Forest of Death]]: Study the tree line and fencing carefully, looking for signs of traps, seals, or unusual chakra disturbances.
- [[Access Context-Relevant Jutsu]]: Quietly review your known techniques, mentally simulating how they’d function in dense forest terrain under ambush conditions.
- Write Your Own Response _
6:
I frown, “all that doesn't seem likely,” I comment, directing my critical gaze to Anko. “No offense, Anko sensei, but with the diplomacy involved and the high level guests all here to watch both this and the third stage, the battle stage, it would seem that controls would be in place to stop such occurrences from taking place, what with the trouble everyone took to get here and the political fallout of all the genin dying?”
A low scrape of boots against gravel breaks the moment before Anko can answer.
Asuma Sarutobi steps forward from the line of jōnin, cigarette already between his fingers, smoke curling lazily upward as if the Forest itself hasn’t earned his full attention yet. He doesn’t raise his voice—but it carries anyway.
“Good question,” he says, eyes angled toward Shikamaru without turning his head fully. “And no—there isn’t a simple answer.”
A few genin straighten instinctively. Others shift, uneasy.
Asuma exhales, slow. “The examiners don’t intervene just because things get dangerous. Danger is assumed. That’s the baseline.” He gestures vaguely toward the trees with two fingers. “If you’re bleeding, lost, starving, or terrified—that’s still your problem.”
A pause. Smoke drifts.
“But,” he continues, “there are lines.”
His gaze moves across the group now, sharp and assessing. “If an examiner determines that a situation has escalated beyond what genin are reasonably expected to survive—meaning no viable tactical decisions remain—then yes. We step in.”
Anko grins behind him.
“That usually happens,” Asuma adds, “when someone stops testing skill and starts creating indiscriminate collapse. Uncontrolled summonings. Area-wide genjutsu. Techniques that don’t distinguish between enemy, ally, or objective.”
He flicks ash to the side.
“If you push the environment itself past recoverability, you don’t get promoted. You get pulled out. Sometimes unconscious.”
His eyes settle briefly back on Shikamaru.
“And understand this,” Asuma says evenly. “The fact that we can intervene doesn’t mean we will. Most teams that fail do so long before we need to act.”
He steps back, returning to his place among the jōnin.
Anko claps once, delighted. “See? Clear as mud!”
She hooks a thumb toward the gates. “Any other burning questions before I let you all loose?”
What do you do next?
- [Good-Aligned Option]: Ask a follow-up about how examiner judgment works when multiple teams are involved in a single large-scale conflict.
- [Evil-Aligned Option]: Quietly ask Asuma whether sacrificing a teammate to secure both scrolls would still count as “viable tactics.”
- [Chaotic / Self-Serving Option]: Call out and ask whether hiding for five days without engaging anyone is still considered a legitimate strategy.
- [[Focus_Asuma Sarutobi]]: Observe Asuma’s posture and tone carefully, noting what he chose not to say.
- [[Access Context-Relevant Jutsu]]: Reassess shadow-based techniques with terrain control in mind—lines of sight, choke points, and canopy cover.
- Write Your Own Response****_