Chapter 35: The Helplessness of a Married Man
Seeing everyone's faces cycle through disbelief, shock, and what might charitably be called existential crisis, Qifeng felt a little spark of satisfaction. Not exactly the most mature response, but hey—everyone deserved their moment in the sun.
Being the examiner for the Chunin Exams wasn't exactly on his bucket list, but if he had to do it, at least he could enjoy the perks. Like watching people's worldviews crumble in real time.
He patted Odasuke's shoulder—the poor guy still looked like he'd been hit by a truck. "Go home, get some rest. Whatever they said to you, settle it in the exam room. Fighting in alleys isn't going to prove anything except that you're all idiots."
Then he turned his attention to the Mist group, his gaze sliding past the trash-talking kid and landing squarely on Hoshigaki Kisame.
Kisame stared back for a long moment, those shark eyes reading him like a book he might want to tear apart later. Then, without a word, he turned and walked deeper into the alley.
The other Mist ninjas followed, but not before shooting some truly venomous glares at the Konoha kids. The kind of looks that promised unpleasant reunions in the near future.
Crisis averted. Probably.
Qifeng turned away, waving dismissively as he headed back toward his apartment. Behind him, he could feel the weight of confused stares.
"Don't look at me," he heard Odasuke say. "I have no idea what just happened."
Join the club, buddy.
---
Back at the morgue, Qifeng pulled off his forehead protector with the kind of irritation usually reserved for removing a splinter. The thing was having way more influence on his decisions than he'd anticipated. Not that he wouldn't have intervened anyway—he wasn't completely heartless—but the motivation would have been different.
"I need to get rid of this thing," he muttered, turning the metal plate over in his hands. "Maybe pass it on to Obito. Kid's eager enough to take anything that might make him stronger."
He considered removing it permanently, but the system integration was still active. He'd probably notice if his stats shifted, and as long as he could react in time, it should be fine. Better to keep the benefits for now.
The day's corpse-touching quota was still unused, but pickings were slim. Most of the bodies had been claimed by families during the week—some touched, some not. At least the haul had been decent.
Besides the steady attribute gains and the upgradable "Inherited Forehead Protector," he'd acquired a solid collection of jutsu. The most useful was probably the healing technique—basic medical ninjutsu that could handle minor injuries. Not as powerful as the mystical palm technique, but useful for someone in his position.
After all, corpse collectors were technically part of the medical department. Might as well look the part.
He used up his remaining touches without any fanfare and called it a night.
---
**The Next Day**
The examiner's office was exactly as institutional and soul-crushing as Qifeng had expected. Fluorescent lighting that made everyone look mildly ill, chairs that had seen better decades, and the general atmosphere of people who'd rather be anywhere else.
"Qifeng's here," Nara Chuichi called out, offering a smile that seemed genuinely welcoming. "Right on time."
"Am I late?" Qi Feng asked, nodding to the assembled examiners. Being the new guy meant playing by the rules, at least until he figured out how things worked.
His deference seemed to go over well with the veterans. First impressions mattered, especially when you were the outsider trying to fit in.
Chuichi clapped his hands for attention, and the room settled into professional mode.
"Alright, everyone knows the drill. First exam is the written test. Cheating is allowed, but you get five strikes. Get caught a sixth time, and you're out."
Nothing surprising there. Konoha's Chunin Exams had followed the same format for years. Other villages might prefer more direct approaches—the Mist Village's "fight to the death" philosophy came to mind—but Konoha valued intellectual capabilities alongside combat skills.
"This time, Maruyama Qifeng, Yamanaka Akikaze, and Akimichi Choyu will handle the actual proctoring. Everyone else stays outside to escort out any violators."
"Yes, sir!" The response was automatic, but Qifeng felt a flutter of surprise.
I'm actually proctoring? Not just observing?
What he didn't know was that this was standard procedure. Put the new guys in charge of the written exam, which was basically the kiddie pool of ninja testing. The real veterans handled the serious business—the parts where people actually died.
It was also a subtle form of diplomatic courtesy. Too strict, and visiting villages would complain about Konoha being heavy-handed. Too lax, and the whole exam lost its credibility. New proctors were the perfect middle ground—competent enough to maintain order, inexperienced enough to provide reasonable leniency.
After the briefing, everyone settled into that pre-event limbo where you're prepared but have nothing to do except wait.
Qifeng found himself genuinely relaxed for the first time in weeks. In his previous life, exams had been stress-inducing nightmares. Now, being on the other side of the equation, he felt a certain vindictive satisfaction.
How the tables have turned.
He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a casual finger-flame, and took a long, appreciative drag. The nicotine hit his system like a warm embrace.
This is the life.
Then he noticed the silence.
Every conversation in the room had stopped. Every pair of eyes was fixed on him with the intensity of people watching a train wreck in slow motion.
He froze mid-puff, cigarette halfway to his lips, and offered what he hoped was an apologetic smile.
"Uh... sorry. Force of habit."
He was about to stub it out when Nara Chuichi's hand appeared in his peripheral vision. The man had the kind of expression that transcended language—pure, desperate longing mixed with hopeful expectation.
"...?"
After a moment's hesitation, Qifeng pulled out his cigarette pack and offered one to Chuichi. The man practically snatched it out of his hand.
Qi Feng automatically snapped his fingers, producing a small flame, and held it out. Chuichi leaned in like a man finding water in the desert.
But then the dominos started falling.
Because when you're sharing cigarettes in a room full of people, you can't just stop at one. That's not how social dynamics work. Especially when everyone's looking at you with the same expression of barely contained desperation.
One by one, hands appeared in front of him. One by one, cigarettes disappeared from his pack.
Within minutes, the office looked like a opium den. Smoke hung in layers, creating an atmosphere somewhere between mystical and ridiculous. If someone walked in without context, they'd probably think they'd stumbled into some kind of religious ceremony.
Qifeng stared at his empty cigarette pack with the hollow expression of a man who'd been thoroughly played.
"Mr. Chuichi," he said slowly, "you guys..."
Chuichi settled beside him with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. He placed a paternal hand on Qifeng's shoulder, his eyes distant with the weight of accumulated suffering.
"Qifeng, you don't understand. You can't understand the helplessness of a married man."
The words hung in the air like a funeral dirge.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
They're all henpecked.
The ninja world's early marriage culture was a survival mechanism—maintain population levels in a profession with historically low life expectancy. But the side effect was a room full of grown men who couldn't smoke at home without facing spousal consequences.
"Marriage is a man's grave, Qifeng," Chuichi continued, his voice carrying the authority of hard-won experience.
Okay, I get that the Nara clan is famous for strong-willed women, but this entire office?
It seemed statistically improbable. Qifeng was beginning to suspect this was an elaborate scheme to mooch cigarettes off the new guy.
But he had no proof.
And honestly? The camaraderie was worth the cost of admission. Before the Great Cigarette Incident, he'd been relegated to listening while the veterans talked shop. Now he was part of the conversation, accepted into the informal brotherhood of workplace cynicism.
Not the worst trade-off he'd ever made.
"Alright, everyone," Chuichi announced, standing up and stubbing out his cigarette. "Time to go make some kids cry."
Now we're talking.
****************
Additional chapters on my Patr*n
35 Advanced chapters & 5 Bonus chapters of Corpse Picker of Konoha
20 Chapters of Naruto : Blazing Legend
patre*n*com/IchigoTL