Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The next day was hell from the moment you opened your eyes.

You didn’t want to get up. The weight of your blanket felt safer than the thought of stepping into the Academy halls. Every time you pictured looking at Neji again, your stomach twisted in slow, nauseating knots.

You stayed curled under the covers longer than you should have, staring at the morning light spilling across the ceiling, hoping that if you stayed still long enough, mom would actually forget about the fact that you had to go to school.

No one knew what he’d said to you yesterday. And it had to stay that way.

He’d already shown you what he thought about Ayame and Itsuki stepping in. You couldn’t believe the things he said, how sharp his voice was, how every word felt like it hurt deeper than the last. And if he thought you’d gone running to someone else, if he believed you couldn’t even keep a secret… you didn’t even want to imagine what he’d say next.

It kept replaying in your head. Just two days ago, he was someone you couldn’t stop watching. But with just a few sentences, all of that had broken apart, like glass shattering into little pieces.

The sound of Neji’s words didn’t match the person you thought he was. It was like his face had cracked open, and something colder had been staring at you the whole time.

And two days ago, you thought your siblings believed in you, that they saw you as someone who could stand on their own. But now you knew the truth: they didn’t. The worst part was that you hadn’t even noticed. You were walking around thinking you were untouchable, while the truth was that your strength wasn’t yours at all. 

A heavy feeling sank into your chest; not quite fear, but close. Close enough to twist in your stomach and to make the air feel strange when you thought about walking back into that classroom.

But your mother’s gentle nudge startled you. You hadn’t even noticed her entering the room. “You’ll be late,” she said softly, unaware her words were pushing you into a battlefield.

You forced yourself upright, dragging yourself into your morning routine. By the time you reached the kitchen, Ayame and Itsuki were already halfway through breakfast; Ayame was delicately arranging her plate with healthy food, meanwhile Itsuki was hunched over a slice of cold pizza.

“Morning!” Ayame greeted, her smile warm and untroubled. She faked it so well. How many times she’d done this, you wonder? protecting you without your knowledge.

You sat down slowly, the chair scraping the floor. Itsuki glanced up mid-bite, grinning, there was a mess crumbs and cheese on his chin, but he didn’t notice. “Little soldier, finally awake! Thought we’d have to send a search party.”

Normally, that nickname would’ve made you laugh. Today, it pressed like a cut. Little soldier. You weren’t a soldier. 

Ayame reached over to place a boiled egg on your plate, her hands moving without hesitation, as though she had done it a hundred times before. “Eat properly. You’ll need the energy,” she said gently, eyes staying on you for just a moment. Too brief to read, but long enough to spark the echo of Neji’s words in your head.

‘It’s adorable, how they keep rushing in to save you. You don’t even know it’s happening.’

Your chest tightened. You picked up your chopsticks, the tips of the wood clinking against the edge of the bowl. Itsuki was already launching into some story about training last night, waving his pizza like a flag. Ayame scolded him about eating junk food for breakfast and he shot back a grin, nudging her shoulder like nothing in the world was complicated.

And you… you just sat there, staring at your food, the warmth of their voices wrapping around you the way it always did. But this time, it didn’t feel like comfort. It felt like a reminder; a cage lined with kindness.

✦ ✦ ✦

The sun was brutal, casting long shadows over the dirt field. You stood in line like everyone else, shuriken clutched in your hand, trying to control your nerves.

You took a slow, steadying breath as the sensei called your name, and before you could step up, Sora leaned in, gently nudging his elbow against yours, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

“You’ve got this. Just don’t hit the teacher,” he teased under his breath, like he always did when he was trying to make you laugh instead of panicking.

“That’s your specialty,” Minari reminded Sora dryly from your other side, narrowing his eyes toward the distant target. When you didn’t move right away, Minari nudged you, his voice softer now. “Go. We’re right here.”

Sora threw up two fingers in a lazy half-salute. “Don’t forget, if you mess up, at least do it spectacularly!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that caught in your throat, but it didn’t last. You stepped forward, walking to the center line.

You exhaled, trying not to think too hard or pay attention to anything else, focusing solely on the target and raised your arm. 

But in the very moment you were about to throw, your breath caught. Tight and sharp in your throat. Your brain immediately reminding you of the fact that someone was watching.

‘Everyone already knows you can’t handle anything on your own.’

You winced. The first one hit the edge. The second missed completely. The third wobbled before landing off-center.

A wave of heat rushed to your face, your stomach dropping in sync with the shurikens. Somewhere behind you, a few kids snickered quietly.

Your hands fell to your sides as your heart raced with embarrassment. You didn’t even need to turn around to know Neji was watching, actually, everyone was.

“Did your sister teach you that?”

Your breath hitched just by hearing that voice. A few more snickers followed. You walked back to your place in the waiting line with the other students, head low with shame. 

“Or was it your brother this time?” Neji continued lazily from his spot on the line, almost like he was bored with the effort of even speaking. “I lose track. Must be exhausting, keeping up with whoever’s holding your hand this week.”

Your shoulders stiffened, knuckles turning white as you stared blankly at the ground.

Beside you, Sora’s head snapped toward Neji, and he let out a sharp, angry growl under his breath. “What did you just say?”

The students that laughed fell silent, surprised that someone was actually snapping back at the Neji Hyuuga.

“Sora—” Minari started quietly, reaching out to him, but Sora had already taken one angry step forward.

“What?” Neji shot back, scowling. 

“Say it again, I dare you.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was tight with fury, his grin long gone now.

“I’ll say whatever I want.” The Hyuuga retorted. 

“Sora it’s okay!“ You interrupted quietly. You didn’t want this to go on for any minute longer. 

“No, it’s not—“ Sora was interrupted by the sensei’s shout: “Enough! Back in line!”

Sora stopped, teeth clenched, nostrils flared. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, but he stepped back.

The long haired boy didn’t even spare him a second glance. He just turned back toward the training posts, already tuning out the rest of the world like none of you had ever spoken at all.

The class continued, but Sora’s expression only hardened, his gaze fixed somewhere far away. His brows tightened and the tip of his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek

‘People like you will never make good shinobi…’

You winced the moment your mind echoed the sound of his words without warning.

You had skipped dinner. The house was quiet, just the clink of plates in the kitchen. You were by your usual spot by the window of your room, sketchbook open on your lap, just flipping through old pages, idly staring at the drawings on your sketchbook.

Your eyes lingered on a blank sheet. For a moment, you just stared at it, the emptiness staring back at you, before you let out a quiet sigh and reached for your pencil.

Your hand moved without thought, tracing faint lines in the corner. You weren’t drawing anything in particular but tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Because all you could think about was how silly you’d been. How big of a mistake it was to tell Ayame and Itsuki what happened on that god forsaken day. Because from then on, Neji didn’t just ignore you—he targeted you.

Nobody messed with the Hyuuga. And the moment your siblings stepped in for the first time, he took it as a personal insult. As if needing protection was some kind of crime that made you beneath him. And purely out of spite, he decided you were his very next victim. 

You only figured it out after it was too late.

At first, it was little things. The way his eyes lingered on you longer than they should, glaring at you. The way he always seemed to be listening when you spoke, but only so he could pick apart the words later. The cold, muttered remarks that came just low enough for only you to hear. 

And then it wasn’t quiet anymore. He started doing it in front of the class, where everyone could see.

And the worst part? The shield Ayame and Itsuki had built around you; the secret wall that had once sent other kids running crumbled the instant Neji pressed against it. It didn’t take a fight or a scene, just his defiance, and suddenly the whispers were back. The fear the others used to show when they looked at you was gone. You weren’t untouchable anymore. You were bare.

But you couldn’t tell Ayame or Itsuki that. You were terrified that if they knew how much he’d shaken you, Neji would only use it to dig deeper, to tear what’s left of you into pieces. 

Neji’s words hit you like a truck, snapping you clean out of the small confidence you’d finally started to grow. All the comfort you used to feel in class? Gone. Replaced by the awareness of being watched and judged. Of being measured and constantly found lacking.

You kept drawing, only pausing when you reached the hands of the figure you were making. Your pencil hovered hesitantly. You tried once, erased. Tried again, erased harder, leaving the paper frayed. Eventually, you gave up, leaving the arms unfinished, stumps fading into white.

You stared at the half-formed figure until your eyes blurred. The pencil slipped from your fingers and rolled across the page, stopping at the edge. You wiped the tears away with the corners of your sleeve before closing the sketchbook.

You pressed your forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring down at the dark streets. The lanterns that lined the road flickered faintly, their glow stretching long shadows across the ground. A stray moth circled one light, batting its wings against it restlessly.

The village was quiet at this hour. All you could hear was the sound of crickets chirping outside. You let out a slow sigh, eyes slipping shut against the glass. 

Tomorrow is another day.

✦ ✦ ✦

The next morning, you woke up, and sadly, the tight ball in your chest did not go away. Making your stomach feel twisty and sick. It was earlier than usual. The village was still quiet, the streets washed in the gray-blue of dawn. 

You walked to the Academy, head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. Your foot nudged a small pebble forward with each step, the soft clack of stone against the ground was the only sound you seemed to notice. At least today was friday, just a little more and you could go home for the weekend…

By the time you reached the academy, the sun hadn’t even cleared the rooftops. The grounds were empty, the silence broken only by your own footsteps.

The training posts stood waiting, shadows stretching long behind them. No classmates. No senseis. Just you. 

You set your bag down and stared at the empty field before you. Maybe… you could pass the time by practicing your ninjutsu until class started, right?

You inhaled deeply, steadying your hands in front of you. Fingers flexed once, twice, before forming the first seal. The motions came slower than you wanted, hesitant, but at least you remembered them.

Dog. Boar. Ram.

The sequence clicked into place. You closed your eyes briefly, drawing inward. The chakra was there, flowing just beneath the surface like a stream hidden under earth. You could feel it weakly pulsing in your palms, threading up your arms.

“Gather it,” you whispered under your breath, repeating your sensei’s words. “Don’t force it. Guide it.”

For a moment, it worked. The warmth stirred in your stomach, blooming into your chest, gathering at your fingertips. A thin shimmer of energy coiled through your hands, faint but real. A bead of sweat slid down from your temple without you even noticing. 

You held the last seal firmly, focusing on keeping it steady. The chakra wavered, threatening to scatter, but you forced your breathing to calm down, tried to picture it flowing cleanly through you.

The glow steadied and a small flicker of triumph rose in your chest. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. You opened your eyes. The seals still held. It seemed like you had a chance.

Your smile died the moment you heard faint footsteps.

The seal faltered. Chakra fizzled uselessly between your fingers as you jerked your hands down, hiding them behind your back like you’d been caught stealing. You snapped your head toward the origin of the sound.

Pale eyes, porcelain skin, dark hair.

He stepped into the training ground as if it belonged to him, the morning light catching in his eyes. They were already on you; assessing. 

You swallowed hard. You could feel that tight ball in your chest pulling heavier, dragging your breath down with it. What is he doing here? Should you say something? What if he wanted to talk to you? You should say something. Wait, you shouldn’t—Your lips moved before your brain could stop them.

“Hi…” you mumbled, barely more than a whisper.

“What are you doing?” His reply was immediate, flat enough to slice through your thoughts and scatter them. He didn’t look very pleased seeing you, actually, he was looking at you like you were nothing more than an unwelcome obstacle in his way.

Your heart began to pound a little bit faster than normal. “I—I came early. To train.” Your voice wavered.

Neji’s gaze flicked briefly to your hands, then back to your face. The weight of his stare alone was enough to make you shift uncomfortably.

“You? Training?” he repeated, as though testing the word. “That’s generous.” He scoffed.

Heat rushed to your ears. “I was working on chakra control.” You blurted before you could stop yourself. The words tumbled out clumsy and desperate, like you owed him some kind of answer. The second they left your mouth, regret knotted in your stomach. Why were you even trying to explain yourself? 

“Was,” he echoed, tilting his head. “But I’m here now. So it doesn’t matter anymore.” A beat passed. “Move along.”

Your mouth parted. What? You furrowed your brows, teeth pressing hard into your tongue as you blinked. 

“What? What do you mean?” You managed, but the words came out weak, your voice shrinking as you spoke. It sounded like you were already accepting the defeat.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not training. You’re too weak for that. You’re just playing pretend. So go find somewhere else to waste your time. This field is for people who actually know how to use it.”

Your chest tightened. “But I got here first—”

The words barely left your lips before he cut you clean in half.

“Doesn’t matter.” His tone was final. “I always train here at this hour.” He shook his head once. “Do us both a favor and leave.”

You opened your mouth, but your voice broke before it could form. Your throat tightened until it hurt. Say something. Don’t just stand here. Say something.

But nothing came.

Your eyes squeezed shut, brows scrunching hard as if you could hold everything together by force. You got here first. This field is for everyone. It’s allowed. You’re allowed. You reminded yourself, but your legs betrayed you. 

You took a step back, then another, snatching your bag, you turned and bolted.

His eyes lingered on you a moment longer. He looked satisfied that he had successfully scared you away, leaving the training grounds all to himself as he stepped into stance, the field falling silent again.

By the time you stumbled behind the school gates, your vision had blurred completely. The tears you’d been holding back for days slipped free, hot and humiliating as they streaked down your cheeks. You pressed your hands to your face, but it didn’t stop the shaking. The morning air felt too cold now, the quietness of the training ground unbearable.

Was it always going to be like this?

Were you really going to hide your face every time he looked at you? Go stiff every time his voice hit you, sharp like a slap? Was Neji always going to make you feel small without even trying?

Your chest heaved, each breath catching and breaking until it hurt to swallow. His words echoed over and over; ‘weak, pretend, wasting time’ until they didn’t even sound like his voice anymore. They sounded like yours.

Because wasn’t it true?

You could only train properly unless no one else was watching, you weren’t even able to hold your ground when someone told you to leave.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying to choke it back, but the sob broke out anyway.

You heard muffled voices drift around the corner.

“Man, I barely even had time to finish my breakfast…” 

It was Sora’s voice, he grumbled between bites. “You could’ve waited, you know.”

“You’re the one who overslept,” Minari’s tone was half-scolding, half-amused. “Besides, it’s not even that early. School’s about to start any—” He cut himself off with a gasp.

They stepped into view. Sora’s chewing stopped mid-bite, his eyes widening at the sight of you crouched by the gates. Minari’s expression twisted first, confusion slipping into alarm.

You froze, quickly scrambling to wipe the tears away from your face, but the redness swelling around your eyes betrayed you, you couldn’t hide the fact you’d been crying.

He rushed towards you. “What’s wrong—are you okay?” Minari asked quickly, his voice cracking just a little as his eyes darted over your tear-streaked face, searching for any injuries.

“Minari..” You mumbled, still staring down at the ground, trying to blink past the blur in your eyes. “I’m okay…” 

“What happened?!” Sora yelped as he came to a sliding halt, hands on his knees. He looked at you, then back at Minari, then back at you again. He held out a napkin and his half-eaten breakfast like it was the only thing he had to offer, which honestly… it kind of was. 

“Sora—Nothing happened..” You mumbled back, trying to blink fast enough to make the tears go away, but each time you tried to swallow them down, another welled up and spilled over, trailing hot down your cheeks “I’m fine, I swear..” 

His brows furrowed. “Hey… hey, don’t cry, okay?” he said quickly, awkward but genuine. “Here—I didn’t even bite the good part yet!”

It was silly. But somehow, it did help you stop crying.

Later that afternoon, after classes had ended and the halls had mostly emptied out, the three of you walked home together. The hours between morning and then blurred more quickly than you expected. You weren’t fine, but with Sora and Minari flanking you all day, the heaviness sat a little easier on your chest.

They hadn’t pressed you for answers about what had happened, though you could feel Minari’s eyes lingering on you longer than usual, and could hear Sora’s jokes coming faster and louder than usual, trying to cheer you up. You were grateful for both in ways you couldn’t put into words. Even if the sting of Neji’s voice clung to you like a bruise, they’d helped you forget, if only for moments at a time. And maybe that was enough for now.

Instead of heading straight home after school, the three of you headed towards the riverbank; a little patch of grass dotted with tiny yellow flowers, warm under the afternoon sun. The air shimmered faintly with heat, and the gentle breeze carried the smell of damp earth and clover.

Minari laid sprawled on his back, arms folded behind his head, squinting at the clouds drifting across the bright sky. Sora sat cross-legged near the water’s edge, the sunlight catching in his hair as he leaned forward, tossing pebbles into the river one at a time, watching each one skip or sink. 

You had your sketchbook open in your lap, pencil scratching lightly as you tried to capture them; Minari’s calm expression, Sora’s furrowed brow as he squinted at the river’s surface like it had personally challenged him.

“Make sure I look cooler than him,” Sora said, tilting his chin toward Minari without looking away from the river.

You smiled, laughing quietly. “You’d need a miracle for that.”

Minari glanced over with a small laugh. “Finally, someone says it.”

“Hey, I’m objectively the coolest here.” Sora shot back.

“Objectively wrong,” Minari retorted flatly, without even bothering to glance away from the clouds.

Sora flicked another stone. It skipped three times before sinking. “And that’s a new record for today, so I win.” He smirked. 

You hid your grin, adding a few quick lines to Sora’s jaw in the drawing. The air smelled like summer and grass, the water washed softly over the stones, and the quiet felt comforting, just the three of you and the river.

The sun dipped lower, throwing gold over everything; the river, the curve of Minari’s cheek, the worn edges of your sketchbook. You paused your drawing just to watch.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang from the village. Evening was coming, shadows stretching long across the bank.

“Race you back?” Sora asked suddenly, already sitting up.

“You’re on,” Minari replied, pushing to his feet.

Before you could even answer, they were halfway up the hill, calling for you to hurry. You tucked your pencil away and ran after them, laughter catching in your throat, the smell of grass clinging to your clothes.

Maybe if you just stayed away from him, everything would be fine.

It was easier to believe that now, while the afternoon sun painted everything gold and Sora and Minari laughed. When the air was warm and you were far away from school. For the first time since morning you weren’t holding back tears. 

Yeah… maybe that was the answer; Just don’t go near Neji, don’t give him a reason to look at you, or talk to you, or even remember you exist. If you pretended hard enough, maybe you could almost believe that day when it all started had never happened.

✦ ✦ ✦

You hopped from stone to stone on your way to the street market, pretending the dirt between them was a rushing river. The morning air was cool against your skin, carrying the smell of freshly baked bread from somewhere far off.

After begging your mom for her famous carrot cake, she had finally caved, but sent you on a little errand; buy the three carrots to do the cake. You clutched the purse of coins she’d given you tight in your hand, careful not to let it slip.

Your stomach gave a small rumble, and you couldn’t help but grin. You could already taste the warm, sweet cake waiting at home, the sugar melting on your tongue, the soft crumb breaking apart, your mouth watered at the thought. The thought alone made your day feel lighter, and you savored the rare relief of the weekend. Free from the pressure of school, away from the weight of other’s eyes and best of all, you didn’t have to worry about Neji right now.

You made your way to the vegetable stand, leaning up on your tiptoes to peek at the carrots neatly arranged in the basket. They looked perfect, each one lined up with its green tops brushing together. You picked them carefully, one by one, turning them in your hands, checking their tips for crookedness or blemishes, muttering softly to yourself about which ones looked “just right.”

The vendor chuckled under his breath at your seriousness as you placed your three choices on the counter. You paid quickly, slipping the carrots into your cloth bag, hugging it close. You realized you still had some money left. Not much, but it was enough. Your mom hadn’t said anything about not spending it, so… maybe you could treat yourself.

Your gaze wandered over the rows of stalls: pyramids of apples and other fruits, piles of green herbs, strings of dried fish swaying in the air. And then your eyes caught something much more appealing. A tray of star-shaped cookies, their sugar-dusted edges glinting under the morning light as if they really had fallen from the sky.

Your steps quickened as you weaved through the crowd. When you reached the stall, you rose onto your tiptoes, fingers curling over the wooden edge as you peered at the neat rows of cookies.

You swallowed, already imagining the crunch between your teeth.

You reached into your little purse, carefully fishing out the coins your mom had given you.

“Excuse me,” you said softly to the vendor, pointing at one of the cookies.

Before you could go on, a sharp voice cut through the noise of the market.

“Well, well, look who it is.”

Your fingers froze around the coins. The sound of footsteps followed, uneven and quick, a sick feeling twisted in your stomach before you even turned your head.

Two kids stood just a few feet away, blocking the sunlight with their shadows. You recognized them instantly: those jerks from the upper grade who had made fun of your hair months ago. They had stayed quiet since Ayame and Itsuki scared them off, but they didn’t look very scared right now, not at all…

“Didn’t think we’d see you here all alone,” one of them sneered, his grin crooked as he nudged the other with his elbow.

Your heart lurched. Instinctively, you took a step back, clutching the small purse tighter, but it did nothing to calm the pounding in your chest. Of course this would happen. You weren’t even surprised anymore. Ever since Neji stepped into your life, no one was scared of your siblings.

The second kid tilted their head, eyes dragging over your hair before wrinkling their nose. “What’s that you’re buying? A cookie?”

The other boy’s eyes flicked to the purse clutched in your hands. “I bet you have more than enough for a cookie.” His grin widened as he took a step closer. “Why don’t you share? We’re hungry too.”

Your fingers curled tight around the coins. “I—I can’t,” you stammered, shaking your head. “The money is from my mom.”

“Please,” the other scoffed, rolling his eyes. “She won’t even notice. You’ll just cry about it, anyway.” He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the purse.

You stumbled back, clutching it to your chest. “Stop—”

“What, you gonna fight us?” the taller one jeered, laughter bubbling from him, loud enough to draw a glance from the vendor behind the counter. “Or are you gonna run to your brother and sister again? Oh wait—” his grin sharpened. “Not even they can save you now. Not when Neji’s already put you in your place.”

“Neji?” you whispered, brows furrowing as the name clawed at your chest. Just hearing it was enough to sting. “Do you… know him?” Your voice cracked as you tightened your grip on the bag slung over your arm.

The kid laughed, crossing his arms. “Know him? Everyone knows him. He’s a genius, top of the class, strongest in your year.”

You frowned at the reminder. Those pale eyes… just thinking about them made your stomach twist and your hands clench, a familiar knot of frustration and fear settling deep inside. The older kids knew him too? And worse: did they know about what he’d been doing to you? A flush of embarrassment rose to your cheeks and you looked down, wishing you could shrink small enough to disappear between the cracks of the cobblestones beneath your feet.

“I wonder why someone like him wastes his time on you though,” The other one chimed in, his expression contemplative.

“Who knows? Maybe they’re just easy practice for him when he’s bored.” The taller kid nudged the other one as he offered an explanation.

Your cheeks burned even hotter, the heat crawling up to your ears now. You felt so embarrassed by the way every word they’d thrown dragged your chest down. Your brain screamed at you: just give up, give up on the cookies and run. If you were going to avoid Neji, then surely you could run from these two as well… right?

You edged back a step. Another. And then bolted.

The smaller boy lunged after you. “Hey—we’re not done yet!”

You didn’t look back. You hugged the purse of coins and the bag of carrots to your chest as if your life depended on it, feet pounding against the street. Market stalls blurred past, voices faded into a rush of noise, your lungs burning like fire with every breath.

By the time you stumbled up the steps of your house, your cheeks were flushed, hair clinging to your forehead, chest heaving.

Your mother glanced up from her spot on the couch, amused. “What happened? You look like you ran a marathon.”

“Heh…” You forced a weak laugh, dropping the carrots and the coin purse on the counter before retreating quickly to your room.

✦ ✦ ✦

The monday morning sunlight was bright enough to sting your eyes. You kept your pace slow as you crossed the Academy gates, letting the rush of other students pull you along so you could slip in without drawing attention. 

You were going to try out your new plan.

Inside the Academy, the familiar sound of morning chatter filled the halls, and the faint, grassy scent of training fields drifted in through the open windows.

You hugged your bag closer and moved through the crowd with careful steps, head tilted just enough to scan faces without being obvious. Black hair, blue eyes, okay.. Safe. But if you caught even the faintest glint of brown hair. No. You weren’t going to be caught off-guard again.

Sora was easy to spot: louder than most, waving his arms wildly as he tried to reenact some ridiculous scene from the breakfast table, bits of rice still clinging stubbornly to the corner of his mouth. Minari, as usual, looked calm, his sighs almost perfectly timed with Sora’s antics as he carried both his own books and the extra scrolls Sora had forgotten at home.

You weren’t going to give either of them a reason to worry again. Not today.

Every move you made that day was careful. You arrived to class early enough to grab your usual seat between Sora and Minari, safely tucked near the back and far from Neji’s usual place. The morning passed quietly; pencils scratching on paper, the low murmur of students reading aloud. Whenever the instructor asked for volunteers, you kept your eyes down, letting others speak first.

When you needed to borrow a ruler from the supply shelf, you waited until you were sure Neji wasn’t there, taking a longer path through the rows just to avoid walking past him. Minari noticed, tilting his head at you, but didn’t say anything. 

At lunch, the three of you left together, but you lingered behind in the hallway until you’d spotted Neji heading in the opposite direction. Only then did you follow Sora and Minari to your usual spot under the courtyard tree.

It worked. Hours passed without a single word exchanged between you. By the final lesson, you almost dared to breathe easier.

Rain began to drum gently against the Academy windows that afternoon, soft at first, then harder. The end-of-day bell had rung long ago, but the teachers kept everyone inside; the storm outside was too heavy for anyone to walk home without being drenched. The classroom fell into a strange stillness as everyone waited to be picked up by their parents. A few students chatted in hushed voices, others slouched at their desks, tapping fingers against the wood impatiently.

You sat near the corner, sketchbook balanced on your knees, pencil moving in soft lines just to pass the time. Sora and Minari had already left a few minutes ago.

The thought of being left behind twisted your stomach into knots, but you shoved it down, forcing yourself to be more optimistic. The day had gone by without incident. No sparring drills, only theory. Which meant you hadn’t had to leave your seat once, and hadn't been forced to go anywhere near Neji. Not a single jab, not a single cold word. Your plan worked. And maybe you could manage this for the rest of the year. 

Your pencil moved in slow curves, shaping the round body of a mouse in the corner of the page. Its fur was a mess of short, quick strokes, one ear slightly lopsided because you’d started without a plan. 

As you shaded the curve of its paw, tracing the outlines again and again, pressing harder with each pass. Somewhere along the way, your pencil had already begun sketching an outline looming behind the mouse. A cat, crouched low, watching the mouse. Your mind drifted to him. To the look in his eyes whenever they landed on you. Not expressing anything else other than, just an empty heaviness. 

You couldn’t remember ever giving him a reason. Not one slip or mean word. Aside from that single failed attempt to make a friend, you hadn’t done anything. Still, he never missed a chance. It was as if he kept something cruel tucked behind his tongue, waiting for the moment you walked past.

Why?

The question gnawed at the edges of your chest, heavier than the rain against the glass. Out of everyone in the Academy, out of everyone you passed in the hallways, Neji always seemed to find you. Not the loudest in class, not the most talented, not even the most noticeable. You weren’t anything special, you knew that. So why did it feel like he was always looking at you? 

Other kids slipped up all the time. Other kids had siblings who hovered around them. Nobody else got picked apart the way you did. It felt way too personal, like there was something written on your forehead that only he could see.

What did Ayame and Itsuki say to him that day that made him resent you so deeply? Did they insult him? Made him feel small? Or was it something simpler, just the fact that they stepped in at all? 

You shifted in your seat, glancing at the empty rows. The rain hammered harder, filling the silence until it was all you could hear. For a second, you thought about packing up your sketchbook and just waiting by the door. But the thought of passing through him made your chest tighten.

Avoiding him wasn’t just the safest plan, it was the only plan. Because anything you could even attempt to try and do against him seemed completely useless. Whenever he walked into the room, you froze. Your voice shrank, your body bent. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff: all you could do was pray not to fall.

You hated how small he made you feel, how your hands shook even when you were just turning the page of your notebook.

You glanced back down at the page. The mouse was still there, crooked ear and all, stubbornly standing on uneven paws and unaware of the danger looming right behind him. You pressed your palms against your thighs, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Because he would always be there, waiting. And you… you had no way to fight back.

All you could do was keep your head down, keep quiet, and pray that maybe tomorrow, he’d decide you weren’t worth his time.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the sliding doors squeaked open, breaking through the quiet of the classroom. 

“Little soldier!” 

Itsuki’s voice cut through the classroom, bright and unmistakable.

Your head snapped up. There they were, your siblings; pulling you out of your wandering thoughts like a sudden burst of sunlight.

You stood up at once, trying not to smile too wide, but failing completely when Ayame elbowed her way in beside him, waving dramatically like you hadn’t seen her just that morning. 

You hurriedly snapped your sketchbook shut, shoved it into your bag, and slung the strap over your shoulder before running toward them. 

The moment you reached them, you jumped right into their arms, the two of them catching you with ease. The smell of rain clinging to their clothes sweeping away the exhaustion that you’ve been feeling since arriving at school.

You didn’t notice the way the classroom fell quiet; the way heads turned, watching, as though the three of you had drawn all the light into your corner of the room. Much less the way a pair of colourless eyes tracked every step you took. 

You were so happy to see your siblings that you didn’t even notice him standing alone, tucked against his desk, shoulders rigid and arms crossed over his chest like he was trying not to feel cold. 

But as you turned to leave, you caught it in the corner of your eye—a blur of brown hair and pale face. You paused, tilting your head slightly. And then your gaze met his.

Just for a moment, time seemed to slow down.

He didn’t look away. He just stared. His mouth was drawn into a cold, flat line, as if trying to hide something he didn’t want to feel. There was weight behind it, it pressed against your ribs, though you couldn’t quite name it. 

Neji’s pale eyes were fixed on you, unblinking. There was nothing warm or welcoming in them. 

For the smallest fraction of a second, you thought you saw something flicker. Not just disdain. It was something uglier and lonelier.

You blinked.

And then Ayame tugged your hand, Itsuki urging you toward the hall, pulling you back into their warmth.

“Come on!” Ayame chirped. “Mom’s making curry for dinner!”

By the time you looked back, the classroom door was sliding shut, and Neji was gone from view. You let yourself be swept into the hallway, into your siblings voices, the warm click of their footsteps beside yours. Umbrellas opened overhead as the rain thickened outside.

You never understood what you had done to him. Why his gaze always carried that cold edge, why his words cut so easily. Maybe it wasn’t about what you had done at all. Maybe it was simply the fact that someone always came for you.

Because no matter how weak or undeserving he considered you to be, at the end of the day you still had a mother waiting for you at home with open arms, a father who still left the porch light on, and two siblings who would never let you walk through the rain alone.

And Neji stayed behind. Alone. 

Waiting for no one.

And perhaps it was that undeniable truth that made him resent you most of all.

✦ ✦ ✦

You hated fridays. As If the whole week hadn’t been bad enough, the last day of the week was the cherry on top. The dojo was quiet, mats neatly lined in rows. Taijutsu class was halfway through. Most of your classmates had already finished sparring, their faces flushed and sticky with sweat.

You were the last.

You stood between a triumphant Sora, his grin wide after just winning his match, and  Minari, whose eyes were fixed more on the ongoing matches than on Sora’s constant yapping.

And you weren’t paying attention either, not when you already knew what was coming. You’d been counting, watching as pair after pair was called up, mentally eliminating every possible partner. 

There was only one person left.

Your eyes flicked across the room, silently pleading—anyone but him. Please, not him. 

You’d been doing so well, running away at every opportunity, avoiding the gaze of his eyes like your life depended on it. But now, the walls were closing in and you couldn’t think of a single way out. No excuse or clever escape. Just the slow, cruel certainty that fate had finally caught up to you.

The past few weeks had been a blur of tiredness as you scrambled to keep your head down. You’d made avoiding Neji into an art: skipping out on aiming classes whenever you could, slipping into the background during group work, letting Sora and Minari’s presence erase yours.

It worked. But still… every time you caught yourself hiding behind them, the sour feeling of embarrassment gnawed at you. 

You’d seen the way he moved before. The way he destroyed every single opponent without blinking. He didn’t even look like he was trying; just gliding across the mat while every kid he faced ended up on the floor, gasping for breath and eyes full of tears. His taijutsu wasn’t just good, it was terrifying.

This class was almost over, just a little more and you could go back to the safety of your little corner in the classroom. If only the others kids took a little bit longer—

You snapped out of your thoughts as your name was called. 

Your stomach twisted, with butterflies—no, not butterflies; you were feeling BIRDS in your stomach. Wild, frantic things beating their wings against your ribs, desperate to escape.

Adrenaline surged through you, hot and sharp, chased by the cold edge of fear that made your hands tremble. 

Neji Hyuuga was already standing, his name wasn’t even called yet, but he was already making his way toward the center of the mat as if he didn’t need to prepare and had already won.

The teacher didn’t hesitate. “You’ll spar with Hyuuga.” 

Of course, just like you expected.

The room went quiet and you almost broke down crying right there. All you wanted was to get down on your knees and beg for a pass. A few students actually winced for you, their eyes flicking to Neji and then back to you with pity.

Sora’s gaze hardened, he didn’t like where this was going. “Oh no...” 

Minari gently patted your back. “Good luck...” He whispered gently.

You stepped forward, knees locking, throat dry under the weight of the class’s attention. 

He didn’t even bow when you bowed. He just stood there, looking with pure disinterest. His eyes pierced right through you; like you were just another part of the drill he wanted to get over with. 

Normally, you wouldn’t stare at him for longer than a few mere seconds, but you could see him more clearly under the light; his face still soft with youth, baby-like in shape, pale and flawless just like porcelain. His cheeks were slightly rounded, his nose small and delicate, yet somehow, already capable of twisting into such sharp, ugly scowls.

On his forehead, white bandages wrapped neatly around it. His dark eyebrows furrowed in low, sharp lines that didn’t match the roundness of his cheeks or the small curve of his nose. And beneath them, his eyes: empty and unblinking. They didn’t look like a child’s eyes at all. They looked dead.

To come face-to-face with him now made you think about something else:

You hated the way people worshipped others just because they were skilled at a few particular things. Like being strong in Taijutsu, or scoring high in math, somehow made them better; above mistakes, above kindness, above even the basic decency of bowing before a sparring match.

As if being good at something gave you the right to be so cruel.

But you were good too. Maybe not at this. You weren’t the best at throwing punches or landing clean kicks—but you could draw like no one else in that room. You could take a feeling and give it shape. You could picture whole worlds in your head and bring them to life on paper. You knew how to turn your thoughts into something that mattered.

You doubted he could do that. Doubted he even understood himself enough to try. He didn’t seem like the type to feel anything deeply.

But none of that mattered here.

Drawing wasn’t a skill that counted in a class like this—Actually, it didn't count for anything at the academy. And it definitely wasn’t something you should be thinking about right now, not with your heart almost leaping out of your throat as your body already anticipated the inevitable attacks.

“Too scared to move?” he sneered, head tilted just slightly, voice soaked in arrogance.

“Don’t hear him! You can do this!” Sora yelled from the waiting line, encouraging you.

Breathe in and listen to Sora. 

Your mind told you, and you decided to follow the advice; trying to channel everything you were thinking. Even if your chances of landing a single hit were next to nothing, you got in a fighting stance.

You moved first. But it was way too slow. And you regretted it immediately—no, regretted even coming to school at all. The moment you saw his face shift. Smooth features tightened, the delicate skin around his eyes transformed into pulsing veins. 

The Byakugan activated. Something in his already terrifying gaze shifted, and it felt like he could already see through you. Not just your stance or your next move, but all of you. Your fear. Your hesitation. Your failure.

Your hand met empty air.

He scoffed. “Spare us the time,” He didn’t even bother dodging. Just shifted effortlessly. “Is that what you consider Taijutsu?”

“I’ll show you what real Taijutsu looks like, since your siblings clearly failed to.”

Your heartbeat quickened the moment you felt a flicker.

His fingers brushed your arm. Just brushed. 

Pain exploded instantly, sharp and searing, like a whip cracking against your skin. You staggered back, gasping for air.

“The first tenketsu,” he said—loudly. So the class could hear, like he was giving a demonstration.

Your stomach dropped. Heat crawled up your throat, shame swallowing the sting of pain until you couldn’t separate the two. 

The eyes of your classmates pressed in on you, heavy and suffocating, like you could feel every one of their stares pinning you down. Your knees trembled. The place where he struck pulsed with every beat of your heart, burning deeper than fire, like it had reached all the way inside you.

Sora and Minari both sucked in a sharp breath. Sora yelled something (though you couldn’t even hear it) as he stepped forward onto the mat, but the teacher’s arm shot out, stopping him in his tracks.

You tried to breathe as your chest tightened. You bit down hard, but the tears welled anyway, stinging, threatening to spill where everyone could see. 

You clenched your teeth, forcing every last bit of strength into your fist. You threw a punch with everything you had left.

‘People like you will never make good shinobi…’

His words ringed mercilessly inside your head, a cruel reminder of the obvious difference between the two of you.

Tap.

Two fingers. That was all it took. The lightest press to your shoulder, and your body betrayed you instantly. A hot jolt shot down your arm, severing it from your will. Your punch collapsed mid air, your arm dangling uselessly at your side as it no longer belonged to you.

“Second.”

This time there was no silence. Snickers rippled through the watching students. Low whispers carried, just loud enough to reach you, and sharp enough to slice into your heart. Your face burned. You wanted to vanish before this went on for any longer.

Your useless arm tingled with numbness, but the heavier weight was in your stomach, sinking lower with every whisper. Your vision blurred even further, the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes no matter how hard you tried to hold them back.

“Hey—!” Sora barked at the kids, making them shut up. His eyes darted around before snapping back to you. Shock flashed across his face. “Watch out!”

You weren’t sparring.

You were being used.

You had to retreat before he could—

Too late.

Three strikes. Clean and precise slammed into your spine, each one sharper than the last. It wasn’t pain the way bruises bloomed or bones cracked; it was worse. It was like your body itself betrayed you. Your chakra collapsing in on itself until it was gone, leaving you exhausted.

“Last.” He announced firmly, not even bothering to tilt his head down to look at you. 

You crumpled to your knees. Cold sweat on your neck. You couldn’t lift your arms or even catch your breath. 

And Neji’s voice, sharp and flat, cut through everything:

“You shouldn’t have stepped on the mat.”

You didn’t look up. Couldn’t bear it. You felt so helpless. Your eyes pressed shut, lashes trembling, as if closing them tight enough could keep the tears from spilling. But the silence that followed pressed down harder than any blow, suffocating, leaving you pinned beneath it.

“That’s enough. Great job today, everyone.” Your sensei chimed in, rows of students already standing up and leaving to go back to the classroom.

Minari and Sora rushed to your side, their footsteps pounding against the mat. Sora shoved past Neji with a hard, deliberate shoulder that made the other boy shift his stance, not even glancing at him as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Minari asked, a hint of worry in his eyes as Sora patted your back.

You slowly lifted your head, still breathless. Neji had already turned his back to you and the fact that you could tell he didn’t even break a sweat made you feel even worse.

You didn’t notice the way his gaze flicked over his shoulder, eyes shifting to something else as he watched you from the corner of his vision; your trembling hands,  tears slipping down your cheek, before he looked away again.

“I.. I’m okay..” You managed as you sat up. You weren’t okay, all you wanted to do right now was to disappear.

Sora leaned over, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. His jaw was set tight, eyes narrowed, the muscles in his face tense like he was considering doing something he’d regret. You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing it down into your chest so you wouldn’t sob loud enough for the whole class to hear.

Minari slipped an arm under yours, steadying you as you got to your feet. Sora stayed close on your other side. Without another word, the three of you made your way back to the classroom, footsteps quiet against the wooden floor.

The moment the dismissal bell rang, chairs scraped against the floor and students began filing out into the hallway, eager to go home. The incident from earlier still lingered in your mind, but you did your best to brush it off and push it aside, choosing to pay attention to the classes, and now all you could think about was going home for the weekend and drawing until your hands felt sore.

You forced yourself to smile anyway, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Finally,” you whispered to Minari with a shaky attempt at cheer. “What are you doing after school?”

Minari got up, and started gathering his stuff beside you. “Hmmm… my mom told me to clean my room—“ He shifted his attention to the boy beside you. “Sora, you should do the same, y’know.” 

But Sora didn’t move, his expression remained the same; brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as his whole focus was on something on the front of the classroom.

“Sora—?”

He hadn’t said a word since what happened at Taijutsu class. His stare was locked on the back of Neji’s head, rigid and unblinking, like he could burn holes straight through it. 

Neji rose, calm as ever, collecting his notebook, his steps unbothered, like the boy hadn’t just humiliated you in front of the whole class a few hours ago. Like he hadn’t done it a hundred times before.

Sora tossed his bag over his shoulders and followed after mumbling a rushed ‘see ya’ to you and Minari.

“What? Wait—Sora—” Your voice tripped over itself, confusion flaring, but he was already gone.

He slipped through the crowd with that determined look on his face: the one that always meant trouble was coming.

Minari groaned, already hauling his own bag up. “Uh-oh.”

You blinked at him, fumbling to zip your bag. “What?”

“Sora’s doing the thing,” Minari muttered flatly.

Your throat closed around the reply. “What thing—?” you asked, but you already knew the answer.

By the time you and Minari caught up, lungs burning, your worst suspicion was confirmed.

Just outside the academy gates Sora stood rooted to the path. He stopped Neji right in his tracks, both of them under the soft orange light of the afternoon sun. Sora stood with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched tight.

He turned slowly, pale eyes landing on him with a single blink of disinterest. “Problem?”

“Yeah. You.” Sora shot back.

Neji tilted his head, not even pretending to be confused. “Shouldn’t you be busy babysitting your friend?”

Sora’s hand twitched at his side. “What did you say?” 

“You heard me.” Neji’s voice didn’t rise. “If you came to whine for them, don’t bother.”

You took a hesitant step forward, hands clenching in worry as you spoke quietly. “Sora, it’s fine, you don’t have to…” 

Sora raised a hand, silencing you. 

“Listen, Hyuuga.” He spat out his clan name like it was something cursed.

“I don’t care how strong you think you are,” Sora said, taking a few steps forward until he was toe to toe with Neji. The height difference between the two boys made Sora slightly tilt his head up to glare at Neji, but it didn’t make him intimidated by any means.

“You do one more thing to them like you did today, and I will make it my mission to ruin your life.”

A silence stretched between them, taut as a wire. Neji’s eyes narrowed at the threat, looking down at Sora with the smallest tilt of his head, as if calculating his next move. 

“Was this supposed to make me scared?” he sneered, his expression contorting into a cruel smirk, it looked like he even wanted to laugh.

Sora glared at him for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before snapping completely. “What is wrong with you?” 

“We all get it. You’re a genius, you’re perfect, you’ve got fancy blood in your veins. Good for you.” He spat the words like venom. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like trash.”

Neji’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not treating anyone like trash,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

His chin lifted slightly a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “If that bothers you, maybe you’re not cut out for this either.”

Sora’s eyes burned, heat building in his tone. “And what makes you so sure you are? Just ‘cause you were born into a clan?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” He was quick to jab. “You’re beneath me.”

“Try me.” Sora challenged.

There was a pause before Neji answered, you could see how his eyes narrowed and his expression turned into a scowl.

“You have no idea what it is like living in the Hyuuga Clan.”

Sora’s mouth curled up as he realized he was getting somewhere. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Neji scowled in response.

Sora leaned in, teeth bared in a grin that wasn’t friendly. “Let me guess. Daddy never once said ‘good job’? You could win every fight, master every jutsu, and he’d still look at you like you’re nothing. Boo-hoo. Must be so tragic.”

The last hints of a smirk vanished completely from Neji’s face. You noticed the way Neji’s breath subtly caught on his throat. His jaw tightened. “Watch it.” He warned.

But Sora only pushed harder, sensing the crack. “What’s the matter, Hyuuga? Struck a nerve?” He jabbed a finger toward you. “That’s why you treat them like shit, isn’t it? Because you’re jealous. At least they’ve got something you’ll never have—parents. A brother. A sister. A family that actually cares for them.”

The air around him shifted and you could tell Sora’s words had (surprisingly) hit somewhere deep. But Neji didn’t look away. If anything, his pale eyes locked harder onto Sora, as if scowling long enough could burn the words out of existence. “Shut your mouth.” He warned again. 

But Sora wasn’t done. His cruel words came out like knives and he didn’t look a single bit sorry. “You hide behind that clan pride, but you’re just a spoiled coward pretending you’re better than everyone else—”

The hit came faster than you all could register. A clean, precise strike to Sora’s chest that knocked the air out of him in one brutal breath. One hand was all that took Neji to make him drop hard on the ground, coughing and gasping. A not-so-sweet reminder of the fact that Neji was much stronger than all of you, he was a prodigy after all.

“I told you to watch it!” Neji hissed, voice full of anger. His fists trembled at his sides, knuckles white from the amount of strength he was clenching his own hands. “You don’t know a thing about me!”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to strike again. His eyes darted from Sora to you and Minari, his brows furrowed deep as he attempted to blink past the anger. His chest heaved, breath uneven as a strand of his hair fell into his face. He dragged a hand through it in a desperate, almost violent motion, trying to claw back some kind of self control.

Even as he turned sharply on his heel, trying to storm away, it was written all over him. His shoulders shook. His steps faltered. He looked like someone who wanted to run, but couldn’t escape what he had just done.

“My family cares about me,” he forced out, the words strained and quiet as if he wasn’t saying them to you at all, but to himself.

“Sora!” you and Minari shouted at the same time, kneeling on the ground to help him sit up.

Your chest tightened the moment you noticed the way Sora was struggling with his own breath. You placed a hand over his back as he took a few ragged breaths, frustration bubbling hot in your throat. 

“What is wrong with you?” you snapped angrily before you even realized the words were coming out.

Neji stopped, glaring at you from over his shoulder. His temper lost long ago, and what you saw now was a raw look of pure hatred, his eyes narrowing like a blade aimed straight at you. 

“You.” He muttered. 

His eyes locked with yours. Those big, pale eyes fixed on you, like you were the most offensive thing he’d ever been forced to tolerate, as if you were the whole reason why that situation happened in the first place. Like your very existence was a contradiction he couldn’t explain.

For a second, the air seemed to thin around you, heavy and tense.

“Stay out of my way… or you’ll end up worse than him.”

The tone of his voice was enough to silence you, putting you right back into your place.

He held your stare a moment longer, as if daring you to push back, before finally turning away again, leaving only the echo of his footsteps and the sting of his words behind.

“Sora! Take a deep breath!” Minari’s voice cut through the tension, pulling you back to the present and reminding you that Sora was still reeling from the attack.

“I—I’m fine…” Sora coughed, struggling to stand up. You and Minari both rushed to steady him, slinging his arms over your shoulders and steadying his weight between you two.

“Next time… I’m gonna knock him out cold.” Sora muttered through clenched teeth, eyes burning as he glared at Neji’s retreating silhouette.

Then, his tone softened as he said your name, voice slightly strained. “I’m going to make him regret ever messing with you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly, worry knotting your voice. “It’s my fault. Please, Sora, don’t put yourself in danger for me—”

“No.” His interruption was sharp and final. 

“Neji has no right to do what he does to you. None. It’s unforgivable.”

You sucked in a breath as you heard his words.

Sora had gotten hurt because of you. 

You swallowed hard, but the knot in your throat didn’t budge. For so long, you’d tried to shrink, to hide, to pretend it didn’t hurt. But now, with Sora’s arm heavy across your shoulders you felt something crawling under your skin. Hot. Restless. Ugly.

You felt so angry. 

At Neji. At the way he looked at you like you were nothing. At those jerks from the upper grade. At every whisper and laugh, every time someone said your name like it was a joke.

And even worse, at yourself.

“Are you okay?” Minari’s voice broke through, gentle as always. He leaned closer, his face full of worry.

You flinched. The words were meant to comfort, but instead they stung. Okay? How could you ever be okay?

“What do you think?!” you snapped before you could stop yourself. Your voice came out harsher than you’d intended. Both Minari and Sora froze, their eyes widening as surprise flashed across their faces.

“I—I didn’t mean—” Minari started.

“Just stop asking me that!” Your hands clenched into fists, your breath coming quick and shallow. “I’m tired of it! I’m tired of all of it!”

The words tumbled out, raw and jagged. You didn’t even know who you were talking to anymore: them, Neji, or yourself.

Sora’s face shifted, his mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but the sound caught in his throat. Minari’s lips pressed together hard, his eyes wide.

You shoved Sora’s arm off your shoulder, the weight suddenly unbearable. “Just—leave me alone!” you snapped as you tore away from them.

“I don’t need saving! I don’t need any of you to protect me!” You yelled, running your hands over your hair in frustration.

Sora flinched like you’d struck him, but you couldn’t stop.

“You’re never going to knock him out! You’re never going to beat him! Don’t you get it? Neji is—he’s out of reach for all of us!” You exhaled exasperatedly.

Sora’s fists tightened, trembling at his sides. His eyes burned, his voice rough when he finally forced words out. “Don’t you dare say that! I don’t care how strong he is—I’m not going to just stand there while he tears you apart every time! You think I’m scared of him?!”

Minari’s lips pressed together, caught between you both. “Stop it! You two just stop it!” He raised both of his arms as he attempted to mediate the conflict.

But Sora’s voice cracked, raw with anger and something deeper he couldn’t name. “I’d rather lose a hundred times than do nothing!”

You just couldn’t bear to hear it. Couldn’t stand his voice, or his stubbornness, or the way he looked at you like you were worth defending.

Your throat burned as you cut him off with a sharp glare, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. “Just shut up!” you shouted, voice breaking, before spinning on your heel.

“No—Wait!” Sora yelled, both of them calling out your name, but you ignored it.

You stomped off, blinking against the blur in your eyes, but the tears were hot and furious now, scalding trails on your cheeks. 

By the time you reached home, you shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. Your mom’s voice drifted faintly from the kitchen—‘Welcome home!’—but you didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at her.

You pounded up the stairs, every step heavy, every stomp echoing your pulse in your ears. You didn’t stop until you were inside your room, door shut with a hard slam that rattled the frame.

Your sketchbooks sat where you’d left them, in a stack on the desk. You hovered over them, hands trembling.

Your fingers brushed the cover of the top sketchbook, but you didn’t open it. Instead, you stood frozen, staring, while every humiliation clawed its way back:

The way those kids had laughed at you in the market; and how they’ve done it before..

The way Neji always found a way to destroy you. The way the whole class stared at you in Taijutsu class. The way Sora and Minari had looked at you just now, like you were breaking in front of them.

Your breath hitched. What’s the point? You were really going to get bullied for the rest of your school years? Neji’s words twisted in your mind. 

‘This is ridiculous… Thinking I’d be friends with a person like you?’

‘I mean, look at you. Standing here like you’re about to cry just because someone said your name the wrong way.’

‘People like you will never make good shinobi.’

‘So let’s hope your siblings never get tired of dragging you around.”

‘You shouldn’t have stepped on the mat’

‘Stay out of my way… or you’ll end up worse than him.’

“Shut up!” You screamed. Your heart thumped harder and faster. Anger boiled in your stomach until it hurt so much you thought it might burst out of your chest.

You opened the sketchbook, teeth gritted so hard your jaw ached as you scrambled to find a blank page.

You weren’t sad anymore. 

You were furious.

Your hand shook as you snatched the pencil, pressing so hard the tip nearly snapped. You dragged the pencil across the paper in harsh, jagged strokes. No plan or careful sketch like you always did. Just lines, frantic and sharp, slashing over one another until they carved something out of the blank surface.

At first it was nothing but angry scratches. But then, his face began to take shape. Cold eyes. A scowl that never left. Neji.

The lines grew darker and bigger, scratching into the paper like you could crush him between the pages. You dug the pencil down harder and harder, shoulders tense, breath ragged. The sound of graphite tearing the paper filled the room. You didn’t stop, not even when your hand cramped, or when your chest heaved like you’d run for miles.

By the time you pulled back, the drawing was nothing but a warped mess of his face; furious eyes, teeth bared, the image twisted and ugly. A monster.

The dull, biting ache of his strikes flared in your body as if he’d only just hit you; sharp shocks radiating through your spine and arms. 

You stared at it, and the sight made your stomach twist. That face. Those eyes. Always looking down on you. Always making you feel small.

Your fingers twitched and before you even realized, you ripped the page from the sketchbook.

The sound tore through the room. You gripped the paper so tight your knuckles went white, crumpling Neji’s face into a ball until it was nothing but broken lines and graphite dust smearing your palms.

With a strangled breath, you hurled it at the wall. The paper smacked against the plaster, a pathetic, hollow sound, and fell uselessly to the floor. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

You stumbled back and threw yourself onto the bed. Burying your face into the pillow, you pressed it down hard, muffling the scream that ripped out of you. 

You slumped forward, face still buried in the pillow, the fabric damp and hot against your skin. Your throat stung from screaming, every breath rasping in and out.

Slowly, the rage ceased, not because it was gone, but because you had nothing left to give it. All that remained was the weight. Heavy and suffocating.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, lashes sticky with tears, and for the first time in days you let yourself go still. The world blurred, slipping away into muffled quiet as you finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, exhaustion swallowing you whole.

You closed your eyes, pressing the past back into the corner of your mind where it belonged. Academy was… well, it was wild, to say at least. 

Neji Hyuuga had been a constant shadow in those years, the two of you locked in a relentless game of cat and mouse. He struck, you cried. He humiliated, you plotted. Every bruise, every glare, every cruel word had fed into that childish obsession: to get even, to make him regret bullying you, to wipe the smug smile off his face. Unfortunately, no matter how many plans you made or how hard you fought back, the balance never tipped in your favor. Half your days were spent plotting some grand revenge, and the other half ended in failure and tears muffled into your pillow so no one would hear. It became a cycle, one you hated, but couldn’t break. He bullied you relentlessly, and you hated him for it with every bone in your body.

But six years passed, and finally, those nightmares were behind you, and so were the days of having to see him ever again.

The days of scraped knees and trembling fists felt distant now. You weren’t the same kid who folded under every word, who lashed out in anger just to keep from breaking. Those memories still lingered, but only as shadows at the edges of who you were becoming.

You’d outgrown the suffocating walls of the Academy. And all you wanted now was distance, space to carve a new chapter of your life, one untouched by the bitter taste of the past.

If fate was kind enough, you’d never have to hear that voice dripping with disdain anymore. Never again catch sight of that piercing lavender glare that once unraveled you with a single look. Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to see the color of his brown hair ever again.

You gave your appearance a few more adjustments, studying your own reflection. The mirror reflected someone you barely recognized. Your frame had stretched, your features set, hair changed and even your clothes were new. The faint shadows beneath your eyes, the straightness of your posture… They all spoke louder than words. You weren’t weak anymore. You didn’t need to be.

This morning wasn’t just another day. It was graduation. The first real step into the shinobi world.

Ayame was nineteen now, a medical ninja whose delicate hands had earned her a name in the hospital. Itsuki, eighteen, and already stood among the Jounin, his presence became a crucial asset of this village. They’d grown into pillars you had once looked up to, and sometimes, still did.

You gave the mirror one last look. The child who used to cry in front of everyone was gone.

What stared back at you was someone else entirely.

You slid through the door of your house, confident that you’d nail the final exam.

In the classroom, you took your usual spot beside Sora, waiting for your turn. Minari had been called a few minutes ago. You glanced at Sora, and for the first time in a long while, you noticed the difference. Maybe it was the graduation day making you sentimental, but he didn’t look like the boy you’d first met anymore. His clothes were new, his hair a little different, he’d stretched out too, just like Minari. The both of them had really grown into amazing people.

“What are you staring at, little soldier?” Sora teased, lips quirking.

You groaned. “Can you stop calling me that?” Ever since Sora met your brother, he couldn’t stop calling you that stupid nickname.

“Sorry,” he said, chuckling as he scratched the back of his neck. “Nervous?”

“Not at all,” you hummed, leaning back against your seat. “Why? Are you?” a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Of course not!” Sora countered, trying to look tough, but you knew him long enough to see right through that act. 

When the sensei called your name, you rose from your seat without hesitation, walking into the examination room with steady steps. Your hands moved through the seals, practiced and precise, and in the next instant an almost perfect clone stood right beside you.

Minutes later, you walked out of the Academy with a satisfied smile, the new headband gleaming in the sun, tied firmly across your forehead. The day was bright, just like the one when Ayame had graduated years ago, but now, you were the one graduating. 

You had the surprise to not only find your parents but both of your siblings standing there in front of the academy, alongside many other parents. 

You thought about all of the drawings you ever made about this very moment, and now it was finally here. Happening.

“I did it.” You smiled, breath leaving you like a sigh you’d been holding in for years.

“Little soldier—!” Itsuki started, beaming, before catching himself with a small cough. “Sorry. Old habits. You’re not so little anymore, kid.” He patted your head, flicking the headband with his fingers as if to test if it was real.

“I know.” You nodded, pride curling warm in your chest. Ayame didn’t bother with words—she pulled you into a hug so tight it stole your breath.

“Mf—sis… you’re crushing me…” you mumbled into her shoulder, but didn’t push her away.

When Ayame finally let go, you swore you caught something in the corner of your eye, a flash of brown hair, staring at you through the crowd. But the moment you turned, it was gone, swallowed by the sea of faces. In its place, two familiar figures broke through: Sora and Minari, both with new headbands glinting proudly in the sun.

They ran up grinning, and Sora practically tackled you in a hug, yelling your name loud enough for the whole village to hear.

“Sora! Minari!” you sighed, catching Sora’s hug and holding tight.

“We all did it!” Sora’s grin was so wide it nearly split his face, and Minari’s smile was smaller but just as proud.

“Great job, children,” your mother said warmly, her hand immediately reaching to ruffle Minari’s hair. He has always been your mother’s favorite. He ducked under her touch, embarrassed. 

The celebration was brief; soon enough the chatter turned toward what came next and everyone began to leave, Sora’s and Minari’s parents falling into step with your family as you all trailed behind. Yet even with the laughter around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.

It wasn’t long before the announcement was made: You, Minari, and Sora had been placed together, the three of you were a unit now, officially. And it didn’t surprise you not a single bit. Your first meeting with your new sensei was scheduled obscenely early, 05:00AM sharp, at the training grounds.

“The name’s Kaito.” 

The tall man explained, earning curious stares from you and Minari. He stood before you beneath the training ground’s old cedar tree. Sora, of course, arrived an hour late, stumbling in with his hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes. He dropped into place beside you, yawning. After making all of you wait in stiff, awkward silence for long sixty minutes, he looked ready to pass out on his feet.

“My hobbies include hiking, fishing, and—” he paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “Knowing better than to explain my third hobby in front of children.”

That earned a blink from Minari, you even tilted your head in surprise, and you were sure Sora would’ve laughed if he wasn’t looking half dead.

Kaito’s expression didn’t change. He just waited patiently, hands folded loosely behind his back, as he had all the time in the world.

“Now,” he said, eyes sweeping over the three of you, “why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

You glanced sideways, already bracing for Sora to make a fool of himself, but he hadn’t even heard him. Oh boy, this was going to be tough.

“I’m Minari. I like cooking.” His voice was calm. Then, with a dry little smirk, he pointed a thumb at his friend. “And this is Sora. He likes eating the food I cook.”

That earned a muffled groan from Sora, who rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, it’s a good hobby…” 

The corner of Kaito’s mouth twitched, though whether in amusement or disdain, you couldn’t tell.

When his eyes landed on you, you straightened instinctively. You told him your name, the words coming out steadier than you expected. “I like to draw.”

Kaito tilted his head slightly, as turning that answer over in his mind, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he folded his arms.

“Interesting bunch,” he said at last. “Cooking, eating, drawing. Sounds more like a picnic than a squad.” His tone was flat, but he smiled. “Let’s hope there’s something sharper under there. You’ll need it.”

The days bled into weeks. Training with Kaito sensei wasn’t what you expected, not even close. The man who had introduced himself with sharp eyes and a tone as firm as steel turned out to be… disarmingly gentle. His voice rarely rose above calm explanation, his corrections were patient, and when you stumbled, he gave you the time to find your footing again instead of scolding. He wasn’t trying to break you down or push you past your limits. He reminded you of the old cedar tree he so often leaned against while watching you three spar.

Missions began simple and boring, gathering herbs in the woods, clearing paths of fallen leaves, escorting cranky old villagers across short distances. You didn’t like it, but never complained. Sora, on the other hand, was constantly (and impatiently) nagging sensei about taking higher rank missions. Kaito would just cross his arms and say softly, “You have to be more patient. Even trees take their time to grow. Why should you be any different?”

The morning sun sloped through the trees. Sweat already clung to your back as you and Minari circled Sora, who had been assigned the role of attacker for the drill. 

Sora lunged forward, foot catching in the dirt. His body stumbled forward faster than he could recover, arms flailing as he tried to correct his balance, but instead, he clipped your ankle, pulling you and sent Minari stumbling sideways.

The three of you went down in a tangled heap, dust kicking up in your faces. You spat out grit, blinking furiously as Sora groaned from beneath the pile.

“…Ow.”

“Idiot!” Minari hissed, shoving Sora off his shoulder. 

“You nearly broke my nose!” You complained as you sat up, slamming your fist firmly against the top of his head. 

Kaito didn’t even sigh, he just lowered the book in his hands, marking the page with one finger. “Again,” he said.

Sora scrambled up, brushing dirt from his clothes. “Sensei, I swear, gravity hates me—”

“And this time,” Kaito continued, cutting him off, “don’t drag half the team into the dirt with you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, so slight you almost missed it, before he lifted the book again and leaned back against the tree, eyes returning to the page as if nothing at all had happened.

Minari muttered under his breath, “Unbelievable,” while you pulled yourself to your feet, dusting your knees.

Sora grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, okay, I got it this time.”

But when he dropped back into stance, you exchanged a look with Minari, one that said we’re doomed.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Everyone in this family is officially a ninja, so—” Itsuki declared, lifting his cup of sake with a smug grin. “Cheers to us!”

Your mother, father, and Ayame all raised their cups to meet his, the sharp clink of porcelain ringing out over the hum of the restaurant. You lifted your own glass of water to join them.

You and your family had finally found some time together to have a celebration dinner at the steakhouse. Sizzling meat carried on platters past your table, voices rising and falling in laughter around you, the savory smell of char filling the air. Lantern lights painted your family in a soft glow, highlighting Ayame’s tired but happy smile, your father’s presence, and the rare ease in your mother’s shoulders.

“Remember when I used to play academy with you? Feels like yesterday.” Itsuki leaned closer, pointing a chopstick at you with a sly grin. “You always made me pretend to be your clone.”

Ayame snorted into her drink. “Oh, I remember that. Itsuki nearly set the curtains on fire trying to make smoke.”

“Those were the special effects,” Itsuki countered, draping an arm over the seat. 

“And what about the ‘training missions’ where you crawled through mud while you shouted orders?”

Heat crawled into your face. “I was five!”

“Exactly,” Itsuki said, laughing. “And look at you now, graduated for real. Guess all that practice paid off.”

Your mother smiled softly, watching the exchange. “The Academy must’ve felt long, hm?”

Ayame tilted her head. “So? Was it as awful as you always made it sound in your drawings? Or better?”

You paused, furrowing your brows. “…My drawings?” You didn’t usually show your drawings to anyone. “What do you mean?”

“You know how Ayame is, always worried,” Itsuki tisked. “She couldn’t help peeking.”

You frowned, sinking back against your seat. You never told them you knew about the way they always tried to shield you behind your back. 

Ayame shrugged, trying to look innocent. “Okay, maybe just once… or twice.”

You looked down at your plate. They didn’t know what school had really been like. You were too afraid of spilling it out and being wrapped in protection again, which was the last thing you wanted as a kid. 

“You know I don’t like it when…” you muttered, trailing off. “…Never mind.”

You covered your face with your hands as you heard Itsuki reply, attempting to break the ice. “At least they were… creative! And a little dramatic.”

Ayame let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Creative? Try terrifying. Some of them gave me nightmares.”

You thought about the numerous amount of illustrations of monsters you did as a kid, all of them looked similar to Neji in a certain way. 

Your mom shook her head but smiled. “You’ve always had… passion. Even back then, it was impossible to ignore.”

“And now look at you,” Your father said, nudging your shoulder. “Graduated, head held high, and still dramatic. Some things never change.”

You forced a laugh, pulling your lips into something that looked like a smile even as discomfort prickled in your chest at the thought of them leafing through your old drawings. But that happened six years ago, you couldn’t just get mad at them, right? “Yeah… some things never change. But i’m not dramatic,” 

“Sure you’re not,” Itsuki snorted, then glanced at father. “Oh—Dad, I’ve been meaning to ask…” 

The conversation drifted on, warm and teasing, but in the back of your mind, a tiny chill lingered with the memory of pale eyes from long ago.

Thankfully, you hadn’t seen him once since graduation. Not in the streets, not on missions, not even passing through the Academy gates. The absence left a small feeling of relief in your chest.

Every now and then, every time your thoughts drifted late at night or between training drills, you’d catch yourself searching for those eyes in a crowd that wasn’t there. The idea unsettled you, so you buried it deep, refusing to admit it even to yourself. After all, why should you care whether you saw Neji Hyuuga again or not? Maybe, you thought bitterly, you were starting to go soft and forget everything he had ever done to you.

You shook the thought away and refilled your glass of water, forcing yourself back into the moment. After all, this was supposed to be your night.

Once you got back home, the first thing you did was shut your door and reach for the shelf where your old sketchbooks were stacked. The covers were bent and frayed, the pages worn thin at the corners from restless little hands that had once filled them in secret.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping them open one by one. You still couldn’t believe Ayame and Itsuki had snooped in back then. You only hoped they weren’t half as bad as your siblings had made them sound.

At first, they were just messy lines and tiny scribbles. A child’s desperate attempt to vent something they couldn’t say out loud. But the more you turned the pages, the more patterns began to emerge.

There was one drawing of an unfinished figure, its arms sketched but the hands left blank, empty outlines with no detail. Back then, you hadn’t thought much of it. But now… it was obvious. Helplessness. You hadn’t even given yourself hands to fight back.

Page after page followed, and they began to lack the vibrant colors you used. Faces that resembled Neji, distorted in ways you hadn’t been aware of as a kid; the eyes harsher, the mouths sharper, the expressions exaggerated into something almost monstrous. You hadn’t drawn Neji exactly… but the resemblance was too close to mistake.

Your throat tightened when you came across a small mouse sketched in thin lines, crouched on the ground, ears perked. Behind it, almost swallowing the whole page, was the outline of a cat’s shadow, looming, fangs bared. The mouse hadn’t noticed it yet.

You let your fingers linger on the page as your brows furrowed in disgust. Only now, years later, you could see the truth your younger self had been screaming in silence.You were drawing in hopes of soothing the feelings you couldn’t even understand at that age. You felt small, helpless, heartbroken. And even now, years later, the feeling still lingered in the corners of your chest.

With a sharp scoff, you snapped the sketchbook shut.

No. You weren’t that kid anymore. You weren’t the one who cowered or cried when he looked at you. You’d grown stronger, and Neji had taken enough from you—your confidence, your peace, years of your childhood, and you weren’t about to give him more by wallowing in this.

And those other feelings, whatever they had been, that tiny, traitorous pull you remembered deep in your chest, the one that sometimes made you hesitate in your hate—you shoved it down hard. Maybe you’d thought you liked him once, in some foolish, childish way. 

You shook your head violently, as if the thought itself disgusted you. No. You hated him. That was all there was to it. That was all there ever would be.

Because no crush and no amount of time away from him could erase the years of torment. And if the drawings proved anything, it was that he had branded himself into your childhood in a way you’d never forgive.

You shoved the sketchbooks deep under your bed so Ayame and Itsuki could never see them again, and stood to your feet. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Kaito sensei had this awful habit of scheduling meetings at hours no sane person should be awake. You yawned as you trudged beside Minari toward Sora’s house, both of you determined to avoid the disaster of your very first meeting with sensei to happen again.

It took insistent knocks, a few impatient shouts, and a handful of pebbles thrown against his window before Sora stumbled out the door. His hair stuck out at every angle, tugging his shirt down with one hand, trying to tie his sandals with the other. He rubbed at his swollen, sleep-heavy eyes, looking like he’d just survived some brutal war in his dreams.

“Morning, sunshine,” you smirked, leaning lazily against the fence.

He grumbled something incoherent, still tugging his shirt down as he shuffled toward you both.

“Not gonna answer me, sleepy?” You teased a bit further, following him.

“Shut up—” Sora muttered, giving you a weak shove before yawning so hard his jaw cracked.

“Let’s get going, or else we’ll be late,” Minari said, sounding much more awake than either of you.

When you finally reached the place Kaito sensei told you to go, the three of you stopped short.

“…What is this?” Sora demanded, tone caught somewhere between disbelief and betrayal.

“Today’s lesson,” Kaito replied, standing with a fishing pole slung in one hand, posture relaxed against the backdrop of the river.

The three of you just stared.

“What?” He tilted his head slightly upon seeing the look on your faces. “Why do you think I told you to be here at five in the morning?”

“…Because you always do this?” Minari muttered under his breath.

Your brow furrowed. “Wait—don’t tell me… we’re going fishing?”

“Wait! You’ve got to be joking,” Sora said flatly. “I came here to train, not—” he waved his arms at the fishing pole, “—go fishing!”

“Patience,” he said, setting his line into the water with a clean flick of his wrist. “It’s part of a shinobi’s strength, too.”

Sora groaned like he’d been mortally wounded. “Patience? This is torture, sensei! I didn’t even get to eat breakfast today. I’m literally starving here.”

“You’ll live,” Kaito replied without even glancing at him. He gestured to the three spare rods propped neatly against the grass. “Besides—the fish are also hungry. Better hurry, or they’ll eat before you do.”

You didn’t wait to be told twice. Grabbing one of the rods, you settled beside Kaito, mimicking the smooth way he cast his line. The water rippled, then stilled. “Come on, guys—It can’t be that bad,” You called out.

Minari joined a moment later, copying Kaito’s stance, gripping the rod with careful hands. “I think I can do this,”

You looked over your shoulders to see that left Sora. Arms crossed and sulking as he glared at the rods. It took one glance from Kaito to make him grumble his way over and snatch one up.

At first, you kept watching the bobbing line, waiting for something to happen. Waiting. But the minutes dragged, and the river offered nothing back.

None of you caught a single fish.

By the time the sun crept high and warm overhead, Sora was sprawled dramatically in the dirt, Minari still hunched forward, focused on catching something, and Kaito calmly reeled his line back, folding the pole away without a flicker of frustration.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Sora burst out suddenly, throwing his arms wide. “I give up—I’m dying.”

“See?” he said, standing with a stretch. “Lesson learned.”

You blinked up at him, lowering your fishing rod. “…What lesson?”

“That you don’t always get what you want,” Kaito replied as a matter-of-fact, but there was warmth underneath. “That one was for Sora. Since he’s always complaining about not getting C-rank missions…” His lips quirked faintly.

“Besides—” Kaito added, reeling his line back with practiced ease, “if you can’t even catch a fish, how do you expect to catch bandits?”

Sora shot upright, his eyes wide with betrayal. “You did this on purpose?” he demanded, staring at Kaito.

Kaito only smiled faintly. “Of course.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth, a laugh slipping out anyway. The sight of Sora’s indignation was too much. You nudged Minari with your elbow, who gave in with a quiet snort of his own.

“This is insane,” Sora muttered, flopping back down onto the rocks with a groan. “I didn’t even have time to eat breakfast today… My stomach is about to start eating itself, sensei.”

Kaito stood, dusting his hands on his trousers, his fishing pole now folded and tucked neatly under one arm. “Good. Hunger sharpens the senses. Maybe next time, you’ll listen when I say patience is part of strength.”

His eyes softened a little, and with a small shrug he added, “Now come on, kids. Lunch is on me this time.”

The words barely left his mouth before Sora shot to his feet. “Oh yeah. You better pay for an extra-big bowl of ramen for me, sensei—and don’t think I won’t order seconds, too!”

Kaito arched a brow, but the corner of his lips curved upward. “So long as you can actually finish it.”

Minari laughed, both of you abandoning your own rods without hesitation. The four of you jogged toward the village’s center. The smell of grilled meat and warm broth drifted on the air as the rooftops came into view, and Sora was practically bouncing with excitement, all complaints forgotten.