Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waking up felt wrong . Not in the way it used to—there was no dull ache in his bones, no exhaustion crushing his chest, no weight of a body too frail to stand on its own. No, this was something else. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he wasn’t struggling to live.

Energy buzzed throughout his body in a way it never had before and the constant fatigue vanished, being replaced by a sharp, unsettling clarity.

He shouldn’t be awake.

And if he was, there would have been the steady beeping of hospital machines, the soft murmurs of loved ones at his bedside, the crushing weight of a body that had long since failed him—slipping away piece by piece until there was nothing left to hold onto. And yet, here he was. His limbs felt weightless, his breath came easy, and for the first time in years, there was no pain.

“... aruto… Naruto!” A loud, booming voice snapped him back to reality. “I said, Team 7: Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto and Uchiha Sasuke! Were you paying attention?”

The emphasis on the name Uzumaki Naruto was obviously directed at him, but he’d never been called that in his life. He barely registered the weight of dozens of eyes on him, waiting, expecting a response. The boy— Naruto… was that really his name? —blinked, mouth dry, brain still trying to grasp what exactly was going on. 

“Uh,” he mumbled dumbly. A slight cough came from his left. He turned his head to see a boy with dark hair and sharp eyes, arms crossed as he blinked back at his stare. The symbol on the back of his shirt—some kind of fan symbol—stood out against the navy blue fabric. The boy’s blank face made him nervous.

On his other side, a girl with bright pink hair was glaring at him, her voice too chipper and bright for her glowering expression. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?” she accused. “Honestly, Naruto, could you take this seriously?”

Naruto. That name again. He felt like an actor thrown onto a stage without a script, expected to play a role he didn’t even know existed—because what the fuck is a Naruto ? Who is Naruto? God, he died. Right? He knew he had. His last memory was of a sterile hospital room, of beeping monitors slowing down, of hands squeezing his in quiet reassurance as his body finally gave out and declared brain dead.

And then—

Silence. Like the awkwardly silent five seconds of contemplation he took before responding to the girl.

“Uh, sorry.”

The girl— Sakura? —didn’t look convinced. Her sharp green eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her face like she was waiting for something more. Naruto had no idea what she expected from him, so he did the smart thing—he kept his mouth shut.

Judging by the way her frown deepened, that only made him more suspicious.

“Anyway,” the teacher continued, unfazed, “these teams have been carefully balanced, and these lineups are final. There will be no changes.”

He paused, as if expecting someone to protest, before moving on—satisfied.

“This afternoon, we’ll introduce your jounin senseis. Until then, take a break!”

“So… what’s a jounin ?” he asked, carefully choosing his words, testing the waters to see if that was something ‘Naruto’ was actually supposed to know or if he had just made a huge mistake. Sakura turned to him sharply, eyes narrowing. For a split second, her glare softened, like she felt pity. But just as quickly, it hardened again, settling into a look of something unimpressed.

Weird.

“A jounin is a high-ranking elite ninja,” she replied slowly, her arms crossed as if she was explaining something he should already know. So, maybe Naruto was supposed to be familiar with it after all. “Our teacher will be one. They’re the ones who train us, lead our teams, and make sure we don’t get ourselves killed before we become real ninjas.”

Real ninjas? Ninjas. Huh.

“Cool. I knew that,” he said, nodding sagely—because what else was he supposed to say? That this whole thing sounded insane and definitely wasn’t his idea of heaven? Sakura made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a sigh, rolling her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck that way.

“Sasuke’s already gone,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Guess he’s not one for waiting around in a classroom.”

Naruto’s frown deepened at the mention of the name. Sasuke . All these names— Sasuke , Sakura —were unfamiliar, foreign. But he wasn’t cultured enough to know where they came from or what they meant. After all, the last few years of his life had been confined to sterile hospital rooms. He’d never had the chance to truly experience the world beyond those walls.

Were ninjas a Chinese or Japanese thing? Was he really that culturally insensitive?

He flexed his fingers and hands experimentally. This body—a child’s body—felt strange. Of course, he hadn’t been a child in a while, but he also had never felt so healthy before. Sitting up without the support of a homecare bed felt effortless and breathing without oxygen tanks was… liberating. Naruto had forgotten how ironically suffocating medical equipment could make him feel during his last few months.

A part of him was peeved that he didn’t end up in heaven or enjoying an eternity of nothingness. He had spent months mentally preparing for the inevitable, knowing that the treatments for the past few months weren’t working—and his family and friends began to distance themselves from him for the past few years out of preparation. He was ready . Ready to fade into nothing.

"Do you know what kind of jounin sensei we'll get?" he asked, trying to divert his spiraling thoughts. A tactic that worked like a charm, as it usually did during his treatments.

Sakura shrugged, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “We’ll find out soon enough. Hopefully, someone who doesn’t put us through too much trouble.”

Naruto took a deep breath. Get it together , he told himself. You’re sixteen, unlike these child-sized hands. He could do this. He had no choice. For now, he would play his part—whatever that might turn out to be—even if he had no idea what it was yet. And if he was lucky, maybe ‘Uzumaki Naruto’ would make it to his seventeenth birthday.

"I might sound like an idiot—" he began, bracing himself for whatever consequences came with not knowing something Naruto should have known.

Sakura cut him off before he could finish. "You already are one."

"Oh. Okay." Naruto blinked. That was... rude? Even if the old Naruto wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, that didn’t seem like a great excuse to insult him. Then again, maybe Sakura just knew Naruto well. It’s not like he’d know. Shaking it off, he pressed on. "Anyway, I wanted to ask more about… ninjas."

Knowledge was power, after all. And how bad could being a ninja be?

Luckily, Uchiha Sasuke was an antisocial, brooding tween—an attitude that provided the perfect excuse for avoiding unnecessary social interaction. There was no way he could have convincingly acted like a normal twelve-year-old, considering how many mistakes he made on the first day alone if it weren’t for the boy’s well known icy personality.

The first thing he did when he woke up in the anime, a few days ago now, was scream in the middle of class. Loudly. In front of everyone. 

Panic had settled in, the sheer wrongness of waking up in a completely foreign body without pain or injury, in a place he didn’t recognize, and it caught the attention of everyone in the room. So, naturally, he’d done the only thing that made sense—blurted out something about a horrific nightmare filled with blood and murder.

And it worked .

His classmates had exchanged solemn nods, the teacher had thrown him sympathetic glances, and then, just like that, they moved on . No questions. No concerns. Apparently, being plagued by visions of death and murder was just normal for Uchiha Sasuke. 

It wasn’t until later—when a bright yellow highlighter of a boy practically shoved himself into his field of vision—that something clicked. A distant memory surfaced, something buried beneath years of study, stress, and medical school trauma.

He knew that boy.

Somewhere between sleepless nights spent cramming and the suffocating pressure of medical school, Sasuke had watched an anime about a loud, orange-clad ninja. At least he could attribute his overwhelming existential dread to the usual despair of being the last surviving member of his clan. Brooding was practically synonymous with Sasuke’s persona—at least, he thinks..

However, a part of him seethed with frustration. He had died—he had believed he had died—and he had hoped that death would grant him release, a final peace from the torture that had caused his death. 

But no, it seemed ninja anime isekai was his fate now.

Sasuke kicked a lone pebble irritably around the Academy entrance, watching it skitter away. Was this really how his afterlife was going to play out? In this anime of all things?  That guy’s favourite show?

Fortunately, Sasuke had already passed his Academy exams long before he woke up in his body, which was one less thing to worry about. Although, leaving the Academy and searching for Sasuke’s apartment was an ordeal in itself.  It had been a process of trial and error, along with some unintentional assistance from his numerous stalkers, but he committed the location to memory from then on. Once settled, he’d set about testing his supposed ninja abilities.

It was an embarrassing process, less said about it the better. Playing ninja at his age felt ridiculous, but it was a necessary step to determine whether Sasuke’s prodigious talents had transferred to him.

They had not.

Which was why he did his best to avoid his classmates and teachers—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could feign brooding over a family massacre rather than the brutal way he had died in his previous life, on top of pretending he was a ‘ninja prodigy’.

“Sasuke-kun!” A high-pitched squeal cut through his thoughts. He blinked, realising he had once again lost himself in contemplation. The blonde girl before him—one of Sasuke’s admirers—was beaming at him, a devious glint in her pale blue eyes that sent a shiver down his spine. “Break is almost over! Do you want to—”

“Leave me alone,” he interrupted coolly. Guilt tugged at him for a moment. This girl was just twelve and had a childish crush , and he snapped at her because he was brooding about his death. Unintentionally, he was playing the role of Sasuke a little too well. He hadn’t meant to be cruel, exactly—but from what little he remembered of the show, these girls had to be blind to fall for Sasuke of all people.

She deflated for a brief moment before bouncing back with unsettling enthusiasm. “Oh, okay! I’m sorry for bothering you!”

How much of an asshole were you, Sasuke? he wondered, exasperated. The sheer amount of shit he had gotten away with was astounding, especially since he was an awful liar and was—usually, nothing like the traumatised child. Still, if nothing else, it bought him time to sort through the mess of emotions he wasn’t ready to confront. Everything was still raw. If he wasn’t careful, the mere glint of a knife—no, dagger—uh, sharp pointy thing—could send him spiralling into another breakdown.

When he returned to the classroom, most of the teams had left with their respective jounin senseis.  From what little he recalled, Sasuke was fairly certain that being late to his first team meeting was practically impossible; their spiky-haired jounin had an abysmal track record when it came to punctuality. God, he hoped that it wouldn’t be too horrific when they inevitably fail the genin test. If anything, it’d be embarrassing as Sasuke already had his ‘genius’ reputation. Hopefully he could retire from being a ninja and return to being a surgeon without too much conflict. Then again, as the last Uchiha, abandoning the shinobi path for healthcare might cause more trouble than it was worth.

“Sasuke-kun!” Another, but different, squeal interrupted his thoughts again. It was from Sakura, another fangirl. If he remembered correctly, she spent the entire series obsessing over Sasuke. Honestly, these girls had terrible taste in men. She smiled brightly at him.“Welcome back! I hope our team can get along .”

He responded with a curt nod. That was the right answer… right? Pretending to be a traumatised, brooding tween was surprisingly difficult—half the time, people didn’t even expect him to respond. Just that morning, he thanked his neighbour for holding the gate open. The man looked utterly terrified.

Uchiha Sasuke was kind of an asshole, huh?

“Wait so—let me get this right, we’re genin . The lowest rank of ninja, and we take another exam to become a chunin?” Naruto’s voice broke his train of thought, ranting as he— assumedly —resumed a conversation he’d started with Sakura before Sasuke arrived. “And also, we’re children doing all of this, freshly graduated children?

“Pretty much, yeah.” Sakura shrugged.

“Are we not eight or something? We’re kids .”

“Twelve, actually,” she corrected, giving him a pointed look. “And that’s considered an adult in the shinobi world. If you’re old enough to kill, you’re an adult.”

“Kill?” Sasuke, who had been only half-listening, snapped to attention. Oh. Right. That was a lot of the show, wasn’t it? Killing people. Death. Genocide. Massacres. What a peaceful afterlife.

“Yeah,” Naruto muttered, running his hand through his messy hair. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. So we’re twelve—adults—and we’re expected to kill people?”

Sasuke had no words for that. Only a deep, resigned sigh.

Things had never felt more right.

As a lone white van barreled down the highway, at the precise moment she was engrossed in rereading her all-time favorite manga, it felt less like coincidence and more like inevitability. She had spent years entertaining the idea of dying young, only to awaken within the world of one of her most beloved stories. Hell, half the novels she had written explored the same themes Kishimoto had intricately woven into Naruto —hard work vs talent, revenge leading to wars, and second chances.

She had indulged in these fantasies so frequently that when the moment arrived, it felt like fate rather than an unfortunate tragedy. As if the universe had, at long last, acknowledged her persistent yearning and responded in kind: Very well, here is your chance.

Thus, it was not fear that consumed her in those final moments, but excitement. This was no cruel cosmic punishment, nor some arbitrary twist of fate. This was precisely what she had wished for. 

But it looked like she wasn’t alone.

You aren’t Sasuke, and you’re definitely not Naruto, the words sat on the tip of her tongue, unspoken yet undeniable. She couldn’t voice her suspicions— yet , she didn’t know who was listening in. The two other interlopers seemed to not have as much knowledge on Naruto in general—unless, the Uchiha boy was acting even more angsty than his original counterpart on purpose.

In Sakura’s humble opinion, she did a great job emulating the original. It wasn’t difficult, she had simply amplified her existing enthusiasm for Naruto until it could be mistaken for the infatuation of one of Sasuke’s many fangirls. 

Still, she couldn’t help but be concerned about how passive the other two were. Unlike her, they didn’t have the luxury of fading into the background. As Sakura , she could feasibly walk away from the shinobi life entirely. A civilian-born kunoichi, even one who had ranked at the top of their class, was hardly an asset Konoha would fight to keep. But Naruto, Konoha’s Jinchūriki? Sasuke, the last loyal Uchiha? They weren’t ever going to have a choice.

She’ll break the news to them eventually, probably before the bell test. She needed to be sure. Confirm her suspicions, observe them a little longer. If they were anything like her—if they knew —then that would change her plan of action.

For now, she would play her role, keep up the act, and wait for the right moment.

"Hey, shouldn't our jounin sensei be here by now?" Naruto asked, his restless energy manifesting as constant pacing around the room. Sakura sympathised, she was feeling fidgety herself from all the waiting. She was about to meet one of her favourite characters in the flesh, and the anticipation was almost unbearable . Though, she really needed to break the habit of thinking of them as just characters. This was her reality now and she was a part of it.

“Naruto, just sit down. Even if you’re an idiot, you should know you’re only just tiring yourself out…” Sakura winced the moment the words left her mouth. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say—well, not exactly. She had a terrible habit of getting too familiar too fast, and unfortunately, her default way of socialising involved casual insults. It was second nature, something she did without thinking, but she really needed to start thinking before she spoke.

That was partially why she dropped out of nursing and went into creative writing instead, to the chagrin of her parents. She didn’t have the social skills for it (nor an interest in the material).

She had no real way of knowing if this new Naruto was actually an idiot. So far, he hadn't done anything particularly dumb—just naive, and unsure of what was happening. However, she noticed that Sasuke, or rather the person playing Sasuke, had managed to adapt into the  role of an emotionally unstable, brooding tween without issue. He slipped into character so naturally it was almost unsettling. If her theory was correct, then all three of them seemed to share some fundamental traits with their respective counterparts.

Why was she Sakura of all people? Fuck if she knew. But it could have something to do with her failed nursing background and the fact that her favourite colour was pink. 

“I’m not tired. This is probably the most energy I’ve ever had!” Naruto exclaimed, dropping to his knees to demonstrate a rather steady pace of push-ups. Well, at least he was physically strong. She wasn’t sure about Sasuke, but when she’d trained alone to assess how her skills had transferred into this new life, she had been sorely disappointed. Unlike the real Sakura, she hadn’t retained any skills that would’ve warranted her the spot of top kunoichi of the year. 

It’s not like she knew how to use integrals and derivatives to find the most advantageous angle for a shuriken throw… this was going to be embarrassing, huh? Genin-era Sakura was known for her brain, and all she had now was Naruto wikipedia knowledge.

Before she could spiral too far into her thoughts, the door to the room creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, instantly drawing their attention.

"Yo," a smooth, disinterested voice drawled. Hatake Kakashi—Copy-nin, stood in the doorway, hands lazily tucked into his pockets. He looked just as she'd expected him to look. Deceptively unreliable. “I got lost on the road of life.”

He. Said. The. Line!

“Hmm, my first impression of you all is… you’re boring,” he mused. “Meet me on the Academy roof in five minutes.”

And at that, Kakashi disappeared in a whirlwind of leaves—the konoha-shunshin, leaf body-flicker technique. Sakura’s eyes widened. So. Fucking. Cool. Even knowing it was coming, seeing it in person still made her heart race. Could she do that one day?

Her excitement led her to being the first one out the door, with Naruto and Sasuke doing their best to match her hurried pace.

Chapter Text

The first thing Naruto noticed upon reaching the rooftop was the sudden blast of crisp, open air hitting his face. It was refreshing, almost startling in contrast to the stuffy hospice room he’d just been in hours prior. The sunlight kissed his skin, warm and real, a sensation he hadn’t realised he’d missed after spending months hauled up in bed. He hadn’t realised how vast and alive the world was beyond the time he spent suffocating in his own body.

After finally catching up to Sakura and their jounin-sensei, he instinctively drew in a deep breath, half-expecting the familiar burn in his lungs, the struggle for air that had plagued him for as long as he could remember.

But it never came. His chest rose and fell with effortless ease, his body light, unburdened. No pain. No wheezing. A slow grin stretched across his face. Yeah… he could get used to this.

And then, there was the view. As his eyes trailed upward, they locked onto something strange—massive, stoic faces carved into a cliff, watching over the village with an air of silent authority. He had no idea who they were, but the sheer size of the sculptures sent a shiver down his spine. It was like some bizarre parody of Mount Rushmore. Except, he’s pretty sure he’s nowhere near America.

He also noticed that the infrastructure of the sprawling buildings before him definitely wasn’t American. There’s dirt roads—no pavement, and the design of the houses looked…historical? Ah, Naruto was dead, and heaven was Asian. For some reason.

Team 7 found themselves sprawled across some stairs, staring up at their jounin-sensei with varying degrees of suspicion. Well, Naruto definitely was scrutinising him. The guy vanished into a pile of leaves.

Their sensei, utterly unbothered, slid his hands into his pockets, staring back at them with vague disinterest. “You all made it. Well, let’s start with introductions,” he said, voice carrying the distinct boredom of someone who would rather be anywhere else.

Naruto frowned. Did elite ninja even want to be teachers?

“What do you want to know?” the girl asked, chipper and eager. Out of the three of them, she was the most enthusiastic about all this, which made Naruto a little nervous. She seemed nice, but way too on board with casually killing people. He wasn’t sure if his morals—his common sense —would let him entertain the thought.

“Your likes, dislikes, dreams for the future… things like that.”

Unexpectedly, both Sasuke and Sakura looked to Naruto to start talking. His stomach twisted. Why him first? He scrambled for something to say, the moment dredging up memories of the children’s hospital staff forcing him into awkward icebreakers. He hated icebreakers.

“My name is Uzumaki Naruto, and I like…” he hesitated. What do twelve-year-old ninja kids even like? He decided to play it safe. “I like boxing. Though I haven’t done much of that lately. I don’t like selfish people, and my dream for the future… I’m not sure.”

Sakura coughed into her hand, shooting him a pointed look. Her fierce, sage green eyes and pink hair made him question if the afterlife was even real. “Except for Hokage, right, Naruto? You always talk about how you’ll be Hokage.”

He blinked, his mind screeching to a halt. Did she just—? Was she messing with him? Testing him? Or… did she know ? His pulse kicked up, but he forced himself to play along, plastering on a grin that he hoped looked natural. He’s had experience faking smiles for a while now.

Slowly, he raised his fist meekly in a weak hoorah as he exclaimed the foreign title. “Uh, yeah! Ho-ka-ge!” 

“I see.” Their teacher barely batted an eye—well, his lone eye. If Naruto wasn’t careful, would this ninja business cripple him too? His focus shifted to Sakura. “And you, pinkie?”

“I’m Haruno Sakura,” she began, her voice steady with confidence—far more composed than Naruto’s had been. “I like reading and writing novels, and I hate having to decide what to eat three times a day. My dream is to become a ninja.”

“Well, congratulations on making it this far. Now you, the quiet one.” His lone eye narrowed on their most quietest teammate.

Naruto watched as Sasuke stiffened at the sudden shift in attention, his jaw tightening and shoulders stilling. He could relate, icebreakers were always uncomfortable when put on the spot. The brooding boy made a noise of acknowledgement. “...Hn.”

“Sasuke-kun?” Sakura prompted.

“…Uchiha Sasuke,” he said slowly, each word deliberate and measured—as if he was recalling the information. “I like… revenge, and I dislike… brothers? And my dream… is to kill a certain man.”

“Yikes ,” Sakura hissed to herself, hugging her knees closer to her chest. Naruto had to agree, yikes was an understatement. Was that what normal ninja kids hope to do? Had he failed to act like a proper ninja kid during his introduction? Sasuke’s ominous declaration made his casual mention of boxing feel almost… meek, in comparison.

Their jounin-sensei, however, remained entirely unfazed. He gave a slow, noncommittal nod, as if death threats were just another Tuesday.

“Sensei, you haven’t introduced yourself yet!” Sakura pointed out, tilting her head expectantly. She had a point, Naruto had been calling the man sensei or teacher in his head without fully grasping what sensei even meant—was it a title, or just a catch-all term for teacher? The names and terminology were starting to blur together— genin, hokage, chunin, jounin, sensei. He barely had a grip on what any of them actually meant , and that was a problem. Because Naruto felt like an idiot fraud.

“Hm, I haven’t? What a shame.”

“So… we just call you sensei, then?” Naruto mumbled, frowning.

Kakashi’s visible eye curved in amusement. “My name is Hatake Kakashi.”

That was it. No likes, no dislikes, no ambitions—just a name.

“Anyway,” he continued. “There are a few extra things I need to inform you about.”

And something about the way he said it sent an uneasy shiver down Naruto’s spine. Kakashi allowed the silence to hang for a beat before continuing. “Of the twenty-seven graduates, only nine will actually become genin. The rest will be sent back to the Academy.”

His eyes darted to his teammates, gauging their reactions. Sakura, surprisingly, didn’t seem fazed by the news drop. For someone so eager about their future as shinobi, she was taking the revelation that they might not even be shinobi remarkably well. Sasuke, meanwhile, remained as unreadable as ever—except for the tension in his shoulders. Personally, Naruto was glad at the prospect of returning to school. At least he wouldn’t officially be a professional murderer, yet.

“W-Wait,” Naruto blurted out. He wanted to make sure. “You mean we’re not real genin yet?”

Kakashi tilted his head, as if amused by the question. “Not yet. That headband just means you graduated from the Academy. Becoming a full-fledged genin is a different matter entirely.”

He went on, brushing past their reactions, “tomorrow, you’ll have to prove your real skills on the training ground. Bring all the shinobi tools you have. Oh… and skip breakfast, you might throw up.”

Naruto’s eyes narrowed. That… did not sound good. 

With a flick of his wrist, Kakashi pulled out three pieces of paper and gave one to each of them. “The details are all here.”

Then, just as before, he vanished into a pile of leaves that scattered in the wind. Silence stretched between the three of them as they all began to read.

Naruto looked down at the slip of paper in his hands, squinting at the inked symbols that taunted him with the supposed details of his upcoming demise in a ninja skills test . His stomach sank. Shit. The entire page was covered in not the alphabet, but rather a foreign lexicon of characters. It looked Chinese. He barely even knew English at times—how the hell was he supposed to read this ?

If he quit this ‘ genin ’ career path, how is he going to get employed without being literate?!

“Do you two want to discuss plans for tomorrow?” Sakura suddenly spoke up, bravely being the one to break their shared quiet. “Like, we can get a takeaway meal for dinner and head to the training grounds. If you want.”

Naruto blinked, caught off guard by the offer.

“Sure,” he easily agreed. It was a good excuse to stick with them for a bit longer, and honestly, he needed it. The alternative was wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to go—whether he could even find Naruto’s home, or a place to stay, or just anything that made this unfamiliar city feel more real. If he stuck with Sakura, she would likely have at least some of the answers to his questions.

Their more quiet classmate nodded in agreement.

“So, you’re not Naruto,” Sakura stated bluntly the moment they sat down at the training grounds. Naruto froze, chopsticks hovering over his lunch box— bento , Sasuke had corrected earlier—his appetite vanishing in an instant. The food was already unfamiliar, filled with strange side dishes he’d never eaten before, but now his stomach twisted for an entirely different reason. His chest tightened, for a brief second he thought his old lung problems had suddenly returned to haunt him. His heart pounded in his ears. How—?

Then, as if sensing his growing panic, Sakura quickly held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not Sakura either!”

Naruto’s brain screeched to a halt. “…Oh. Oh!”

She turned her gaze toward their dark-haired teammate, expectant. “And you’re not Sasuke, right?”

Sasuke exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath, and proceeded to say more words in one go than Naruto had ever heard from him before. It was like his entire body language flipped a switch. He couldn’t help but notice that despite him relaxing, his eyes still looked haunted. “Yeah, definitely not. I had no clue you were reincarnated, although I had some suspicions with blondie.”

So that’s what happened to him? He’d been reincarnated ?

“Genin Sakura’s whole personality basically boils down to hating Ino and obsessing over Sasuke,” she explained, her tone dry.

“That sounds exhausting,” Sasuke sympathised.

“Oh, it is ,” She agreed, stabbing at her food with her chopsticks rather than using them properly. He had tried that method before on his mystery meat but found that effort to be futile. “But it’s better than blowing my cover.”

Sakura continued. “It wasn’t too bad, as I already know this world pretty well.”

“ Wait . What do you mean by that?”

“She probably watched the anime,” Sasuke chimed in, his words muffled as he chewed on a piece of sushi.

“Yeah. I used to be a fan—read the manga, watched the anime, played some of the games… I was really into it.”

“ Huh ?” Now Naruto was even more confused. There were even more foreign terms he’d never heard before. For the past few hours, he’s been feeling more and more like an idiot.

“… you don’t know? We're in Naruto.”  Sasuke explained briskly. Frankly, Naruto himself didn’t know why they were in him —but once again, they clarified before even more misunderstandings could properly settle in.  “That's the name of the show with the orange, blonde kid. He yells about friendship.”

“Is that… normal? To be in Naruto?” And he made sure to twist his expression so they understood how incredulous their explanations were. If he was dead, why did he end up in a TV show? Is that TV show a sneak peek into heaven? 

“Well, there have been novels and fanfics with this exact premise—where someone dies, and instead of meeting a god or whatever, they wake up inside a piece of media.” Sakura mused, her gaze drifting toward the sky as if searching for answers among the clouds. Maybe she was. Out of the three of them, not only was she the most excited—but also the most knowledgeable about their predicament. 

“Maybe this is normal,” she continued, her tone almost philosophical. “How would we even know for sure?”

And maybe she was right. Maybe this sort of thing happened all the time, and they were just now becoming aware of it. Not that it made Naruto feel any better about not being in regular heaven.

“So you both died and ended up in ninja heaven too?” Naruto clarified, returning to apprehensively poking at the foreign meat in his bento instead of the insanity that was his pink-haired—teammate? Companion? Fellow angel? Now that he thought about it, maybe her hair colour was natural .

“Yes.”

“Correct.”

“...Is Kakashi-sensei also like us?” Naruto asked, a little more hopeful than he meant to sound. 

“No, I doubt it,” Sakura said, shaking her head. “I think the three of us are the only ones.”

Sasuke hummed in agreement. “Usually, when people do this trope, they wake up as the main characters. Right?”

“Exactly. And I noticed that we all woke up within four to twelve hours after the original trio passed their respective Academy exams… which is strange now that I think about it. Kakashi-sensei doesn’t fit that metric.”

The three of them returned to their meals as they mulled over their shared realisation that they were all in the same situatio. (Naruto’s meal, as it turned out, didn’t have meat after all—it was something called ‘natto,’ a slimy, stringy mess of fermented beans that he was now deeply suspicious of. He swapped boxes with Sasuke.)

Between bites, they tossed around a few theories about their strangely specific reincarnation. Sakura suggested that it was simple as ‘three dead people are given a chance to live out their ninja dreams’, but it was quickly shot down by the fact neither Sasuke or Naruto wanted to be ninjas in their lifetime. Sasuke’s theory was even simpler than that.

“Maybe it’s just three dead people who didn’t want to die.”

They stopped discussing their deaths after that.

“We should talk about more than just tomorrow’s plans—we need to figure out what we’re doing for the foreseeable future,” Sasuke said, his voice low but firm. Then, he turned to Sakura. “How bad is my impression of Sasuke?”

Sakura blinked, then tilted her head in thought. “Ah, surprisingly not bad. You watched some of the show, right? Genin Sasuke is too hung up on revenge and too obsessed with gaining power to form many bonds, so as long as you act disinterested and broody, you’re already halfway there.”

Sasuke nodded, seemingly satisfied. Then, Sakura’s gaze flickered over to Naruto.

“Acting as Naruto is a little tougher, though.”

“Huh? What about me?” Naruto asked, pointing at himself in confusion.

Sakura sighed, her expression turning apologetic. “Well… you haven’t watched any anime, so you don’t really know how a shounen protagonist is supposed to act. Generally, they have strong morals, big dreams, and start from the bottom before working their way up to being an absolute powerhouse.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Naruto said, cautiously optimistic.

Sakura winced. “Yeah, but that’s his story arc, his personality is…… Genin Naruto’s personality is, well—he’s kind of an idiot. I’m sorry. He’s also impulsive and prone to lash out at minor conflicts. He also believes in the best of people, even though he’s a bit annoying.”

“Ah. Okay ,” Naruto muttered. He’s been reincarnated as the village idiot. “So… annoying? We can just change their known personalities to match us.”

“He also says ‘dattebayo’ a lot.” She tacked on, as if it was compensation. “But I think we should try to stick as close as we can to their usual personalities. I still have parents in this world, and they’d get suspicious, and you two are high profile in a ninja village. Everyone would notice if you acted off and you could risk being mind probed.”

Naruto stared. “Mind probed?” Yeah, no, that was getting added to his ever-growing list of terrifying new world problems, right next to twelve year old ninjas and vanishing into leaves. But first— “What does ‘dattebayo’ even mean?”

“There’s no direct translation,” Sakura admitted, tapping a finger to her chin. “But I think the English localisation team settled on ‘y’know’ and ‘believe it.’ It’s just something he says at the end of his sentences sometimes.”

Naruto frowned. “Wait, hold on—what language are we even speaking right now if not English?”

That gave Sakura pause. She took a moment, brows furrowing in concentration. “I think... to us, everyone sounds like they’re speaking English. But if you actually focus on their words, they’re speaking Japanese—our brains are just automatically translating it. That’s why I knew you two were like me. You both only spoke English and there was no translation required.”

“Huh,” Naruto muttered, taking that in. He hadn’t noticed that, but there was one thing he did notice about the world’s language. He held up the slip of paper Kakashi had given him, frowning at the inked symbols. “Well, I dunno about all that, but I did notice that their writing is, uh… this.” He waved the paper at them. “And I can’t read a thing.”

“I could teach you both kanji,” Sasuke offered after finally finishing Naruto’s weird natto meal. He packed their bento boxes neatly to the side, hands moving with precise efficiency. “My parents are Japanese, and I spent part of my childhood in Japan.”

“Oh, thank you! That’d be really useful for blending in,” Sakura said, perking up. “I could probably give crash courses on how the Naruto world works—things like chakra theory, your characters’ pasts, and important plot points…”

Naruto shifted uncomfortably as they discussed their skill sets. Sasuke could help them read, Sakura knew all the lore—all of which would help them blend in and not be mind probed… But what could he offer? What was he good at? Mediocre singing? He seemed to be great at organ failure in his last life.

“I’ll teach you some boxing techniques,” he declared. “Like, how to throw a mean left hook.”

“That’s invaluable, thank you,” Sakura said immediately. “I don’t know anything about fighting. I thought I was dead—joke unintended—the moment I realised I didn’t magically inherit any of Sasuke’s talent and was instead, Haruno Sakura.”

Sasuke snorted. “Actually being Sasuke doesn’t give me any talent. My shuriken skills suck, and I have no idea how to move in this oddly athletic body.”

She blinked at him. “Wait—you mean you don’t have some kind of muscle memory cheat code? I thought Uchihas were always a hack.”

“Not really. The instincts are there, but it’s like… I should be good at this, because no kid should be this muscular without knowing something about fighting and training, but I’m not. I have never fought in my life— lives. His body gets itself ready into a stance and then… I’m left with the controls? So no, I don’t have any cheats.”

“Huh,” Naruto mused, tapping his chin. “And tomorrow, we have to convince a seasoned ninja that we actually belong here.”

“I think… I have a plan for that,” both boys turned to Sakura in surprise—and a healthy amount of skepticism. “We can pull it off. After all, it’s not like we’re expected to be good ninjas, right? We just have to avoid looking like clueless civilians.”

“I’m not following,” Naruto frowned.  A quick glance at Sasuke told him he wasn’t either.

Sakura sighed, rolling her eyes. “Look, Team 7 just graduated. No one expects us to be prodigies, except maybe Sasuke and even then, he was only the best in his grade. We’re only supposed to know the basics. And since we’ll be up against a seasoned ninja, any poor performance on our part can be blamed on fear and inexperience. If we plan this right, we can make it work.”

“Wouldn’t we just fail the test if we do too badly?” Sasuke asked, curious.

Sakura smirked. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Kakashi-sensei is forced to pass us—maybe 75% sure. If we’re too incompetent, it might raise suspicion. But failing the test itself? This team is guaranteed to pass.”

Naruto raised a brow. He had a feeling that Sakura wasn’t being completely transparent about something , but then again—she was the designated expert out of the three of them. Begrudgingly, he was forced to accept what she said as fact. “Didn’t he say he could send us back to the Academy?”

“That’s a bluff. I don’t think jounin-senseis actually have that authority.”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. “You think ?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now, we’ve got bigger things to focus on—like figuring out how to not flunk this test and get thrown into Torture & Investigation.” She stood up, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming with determination, as if the words she uttered weren’t deterrents for them to quit while they could. “Right! Let’s work together and bluff our way through the plot!”

And somehow—maybe because he was desperate for a direction, any direction—Naruto believed her.

Chapter Text

The logical part of Sasuke’s brain—the part responsible for common sense and basic thinking—had its doubts about Sakura’s plan. But, truthfully, they didn’t have many options. He’d been out of it for weeks, still reeling from the sheer absurdity of waking up as the brooding ninja guy from anime AMVs during his early residence days, so he wasn’t in any position to think of how to live past rolling over and dying again. Yesterday was all too surreal to process, so he clung to Sakura’s headstrong certainty like a lifeline.

Let her do all the thinking. He was fine with that. Really. Thanks.

In his very humble, very dead, very reincarnated opinion, he’d earned the right to hang back. He died , after all. No matter how enthusiastically Sakura tried to sell the whole ‘being isekai’d is your second chance’ thing, it didn’t change the fact that he died. It had been brutal, messy, and about as far from peaceful as you could get—with emotional baggage galore. 

But unlike the real Sasuke, he was an adult—one who understood that betrayal didn’t always mean revenge, and survival often meant learning how to compartmentalise the mess.  

“Good morning,” he greeted the other members of Team 7. 

Naruto offered a quiet wave; Sakura gave a curt nod. With the three of them having deep shadows under their eyes, clearly none of them had slept much.

They’d scoped out Training Ground Three after their first ‘team dinner’, once Sasuke translated the info sheets Kakashi handed out—at least, to the best of his ability. He could make sense of most of it, sure, but the truth was... he hadn’t read kanji properly in years. Japanese was a language reserved for family dinners and the occasional message in the family group chat, not paragraphs of ninja guidelines.

Still, he managed to piece together the important parts: their teacher wanted them at Training Ground Three by 7:00AM, you’ll need to bring your own equipment, don’t collaborate with other genin teams, medical absentees will not be considered and be an automatic failure… It was a little chilling how much it felt more like a standardised assessment than  a ninja combat test.

Sasuke settled onto a patch of grass next to Sakura, who was absentmindedly watching Naruto practicing boxing techniques he’d remembered from his junior championship days. The complex steps Naruto practiced looked effortless, a stark contrast to Sasuke, who still felt like a fumbling baby deer despite all their practice. Every time he tried to execute the moves with even a hint of confidence, his limbs felt too stiff, too forced.

The night before, Naruto had taught them boxing footwork and how to throw punches. It wasn’t exactly Academy standard kata —not by a long shot—but if you squint hard enough and added a generous helping of delusion, it looked close enough to pass as a badly remembered ‘taijutsu form’. The idea was simple: they needed to look like they knew what they were doing.

“It’s all about faking confidence,” Sakura had said, weaving side to side on the balls of her feet, the way Naruto demonstrated earlier. She was flexible, and managed to carry herself with far more grace than Sasuke did. “If it looks like you’re putting in effort, no one will question why you suck.”

“Great,” Sasuke muttered. “We’ll suck with style.”

“Exactly!”

The memory made him sigh. He glanced at her now—her hair tied up into a side ponytail, unlike yesterday, reminiscent of a middle-school cheerleader. He wasn’t sure if the real Sakura ever styled her hair this way. Ah , could he change Sasuke’s appearance too? Maybe he’ll fix the strange anime spikes he was stuck with.

Sakura was watching Naruto, but her focus was less on the technique and more on the bigger picture—on the plan they’d been working on. They had spent hours trying to perfect these skills, aiming to create the illusion that they were only overconfident twelve-year-olds who thought they knew how to fight. If they could fake it well enough, if they could project enough arrogance and inexperience…

Sasuke understood the reasoning behind the bluff, but it didn’t make him feel any more confident in it. They weren’t trying to appear skilled, not exactly. They were trying to act like twelve year olds who thought they had it all figured out. The trick was confidence—not perfection. 

But the way this was all framed like a test made Sasuke’s perfectionism itch with frustration regardless.

"How are your chakra reserves?" Sakura's question caught him off guard. For a moment, he blanked, trying to process her words. Chakra reserves —right, that was what she was calling the constant buzzing under his skin. Or maybe it was his muscles? To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what chakra even was, just that it was the magic of the Naruto universe and it sometimes made it hard for him to relax.

“Better than yesterday,” he replied. 

“Good. At least we have one person who can actually perform jutsu. Can you imagine? A genin team that can’t even do the Academy Three?”

Naruto paused mid-punch, brow raised. “Aren’t we that genin team?”

Sakura sighed. “It was a rhetorical question, Naruto. Of course we are.”

“I wish I memorised more hand seals for jutsu,” she mumbled, a habit Sasuke had picked up on—something she did whenever she was deep in thought or busy plotting. “I only remembered that fire jutsu you had, Sasuke.”

Yeah, that fireball jutsu was their trump card—his underwhelming, barely-practiced, more smoke than flame jutsu. Sakura insisted for him to put some practice into it despite their time crunch because, apparently, the original Sasuke had been a training fanatic. He’d spent years honing that fireball jutsu, and Sakura was hopeful that some of that muscle memory would translate into chakra memory.

“It’s a fire-natured ninjutsu,” she’d said excitedly, “and since OG Sasuke practised it so much, there might be some chakra memory. Like muscle memory, but… y’know. Magic chakra.”

Don’t worry, Sasuke had no idea what she was talking about either. He just shifted the buzzing sensation around until it felt warm, and although the hand seals felt nerdy , they helped guide him on where to direct the buzzing— chakra , to do the jutsu. Honestly though, he didn’t think he needed them at all once he committed the shape by memory.

(The three of them had actually cheered when, after hours of footwork drills and jutsu practice, Sasuke managed to cough out a puff of smoke. Ninjutsu was pretty cool.)

“Ah, did the two of you make it home alright last night?” Sasuke asked, lightly moulding his chakra to make sure he memorised how to do it. It was more ’chakra memory’ now—well, borrowed chakra memory—than anything he consciously understood, but he kept doing it to make sure the sensation was familiar.

Naruto gave a thumbs up, still bouncing on his heels. “Yeah. Sakura helped me find Naruto’s apartment. She only vaguely remembered what it looked like, but turns out that was enough.”

“It’s worse than it looked in the show,” she muttered.

Naruto gasped, clearly offended. As if what anime Naruto did in canon somehow applied to him. Then again, Sasuke couldn’t blame him—he, too, took offence to things pre-reincarnation like they were his problem. Anime-Sasuke may have been standoffish and an asshole most of the time, but… yeah. He had no defenses. He hardly remembered the show anyway. 

“Hey! It’s not that bad.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “There were instant noodle cups stacked higher than your kitchen counter and I’m pretty sure one of your chairs used to be part of a fence.”

The blonde stopped practice entirely, trudging over to them with wounded pride. He slumped down beside them, leaning back against a log. “It builds character.”

“More like building code violation, ” Sakura muttered, and Naruto nudged her shoulder with a dramatic pout.

Suddenly, Sasuke had a terrifying thought. How old were these two for them to get along like this? Because Sasuke remembered who he’d been before ninja afterlife. He’d had a job, a professional career. He had a desk and a half-dead plant and a too-expensive ergonomic chair because his back started aching in his mid-twenties. He’d survived two years of brutal medical residency and another three as a registered surgeon.

Were these two college students? Worse, teenage high schoolers? God. What if he was the old man of the group? He’d rather die (again).

They waited in the training grounds for the next few hours with pre-packed bentos, and Sasuke tried to not cringe as Naruto ruthlessly stabbed a katsudon cutlet with chopsticks. It seemed like the boy learnt his lesson from yesterday’s daring attempt at trying natto, though in Sasuke’s opinion, natto was delicious. Today, he got himself a natto maki from a conbini on the way to the training grounds.

Trying to pay for items in Konoha’s currency was confusing and it was a lot of guesswork from Sasuke’s end, giving the cashier a fistful of coins for a single natto maki. Despite their sensei’s warning not to eat, Sakura had insisted they do the opposite—and for now, she was the only one who seemed to know what she was doing. Trusting her word felt like the only viable option, even if it didn’t sit well with him.

It wasn’t anything she did per se, it was Sasuke’s natural skepticism and lack of control on their situation that bothered him more. Sakura had also explained what the actual test was to them the evening before, which made Sasuke feel a little bit better about their chances to pass—but the uneasy one-sided tension couldn’t let him rest.

“The bell test,” she explained seriously, “there’s only two bells. You fight your sensei, try to take at least one of them, and the one who doesn't get one gets sent back to the academy.”

Naruto blinked. “Wait, that’s messed up.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Because it’s a lie. The real test is teamwork, the bells are just bait. If we act like greedy little twelve-year-olds and try to solo Kakashi, he’ll ‘fail’ us on the spot. But that’s also a farce, because if he actually failed Sasuke and Naruto—well, I wonder what repercussions he’d have…”

Then she drifted off, muttering to herself again—probably plotting something , or intentionally holding back information. Maybe it was the competitive streak in Sasuke, or just his tendency to want to lead—but something about Sakura being this more knowledgeable, grated on him. And it wasn’t just her confidence. It was how comfortable she was here, in this world. In this role. She wasn’t just adjusting to being a twelve-year-old ninja—she was excited ? Maybe even enjoying it.

It unsettled him more than he’d like to admit.

Sakura continued explaining the rest of the plan with growing enthusiasm, outlining the risks and what Kakashi would probably do to them once the test began. She mentioned something about viewing hell? And the Thousand Years of Death, which triggered a vivid memory of his cousins ganging up on each other in secret attacks, laughing like lunatics. He didn’t expect to hear that an elite ninja would be trying to play kanchō with them.

Most of the plan, Sasuke noticed, was a load of bullshit. But he couldn’t discredit that she didn’t at least try—they’ll just have to see how the test plays out and if her theory, that it would be impossible to fail, worked.

Naruto, with his abnormal-levels of stamina and the only one of them having actual real-life sparring experience, was their main fighter. Sakura encouraged him—insisted, really—to use every dirty trick in the book. Eye pokes, groin shots, sand in the face, whatever. “This world runs on overpowered chakra users. Fight like your life depends on it, because it kind of does.”

She was so dramatic. This was a kids show.

Meanwhile, she and Sasuke would hang back and do ninja tricks, like traps and pathetic fireball jutsu, to try and appeal to Kakashi’s sense of teamwork. Sakura claimed that Kakashi was a sap for Team 7’s dynamic, so Sasuke had to act like an asshole a little while longer so he had a compelling ‘character arc’. He commented that while he and Sakura were technically relying on Naruto to get their teacher’s attention, Sakura didn’t have much to do since Sasuke was the one doing the knife throwing and jutsu.

“I’m slower,” Sakura had admitted with a shrug. “We haven’t figured out chakra reinforcement yet so I won’t be as fast as you two, or anyone, but it works in our favour. I’ll play the role of a useless fangirl. No one expects her to do anything.”

“That’s kind of sexist,” he commented.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling bitterly. “So is this entire world.”

And then she solemnly stared at the sunset…somehow, Sasuke felt like she wasn’t necessarily joking about that. Then again, women .

Hours later, their teacher finally made his way to the training grounds. It was long past 7:00 AM—which annoyed Sasuke, but he somewhat remembered from what he’d seen from the show that the man was late to all his appointments. Kakashi oozed an aura of an irresponsible adult, which was a bit too familiar for Sasuke’s liking.

“You’re late!” Sakura shouted, accusingly pointing a finger at Kakashi’s face. She didn’t sound annoyed, however, as there was more cheer than irritation in her voice. It looked like she just wanted a chance to say it rather than care for the consequences.

Kakashi didn’t bother explaining himself. He just smiled (or at least, they assumed he did) and gently set a mechanical alarm clock on the log behind him. Sasuke squinted at it. A wind-up clock? He hadn’t seen one since childhood. He sighed, already feeling the oncoming headache. The world of Naruto had always been annoyingly vague about its tech—video screens one moment, laptops the next, but messenger birds were also a go-to method of communication.

“This timer is set for noon,” Kakashi explained, snapping Sasuke out of his thoughts about if the world of Naruto had dial-up internet. Their teacher held up two bells. “Your task is to take these bells from me before time is up.”

“Those who don’t get a bell by noon don’t get lunch,” Kakashi added. “I’ll tie you to a stump and eat your lunch right in front of you.”

Right. Sakura had already filled them in. They’d prepared accordingly—eaten breakfast early, ditched the trash, and decided ahead of time who’d play along and get tied up. Kakashi’s little test to pit them against each other over food wouldn’t go as planned.

“And,” Kakashi finished, “the person who doesn’t get a bell fails the test and is sent back to the Academy.”

He paused, but due to Sakura’s interference, none of them felt that threatened . The worst case scenario was that all three of them fail and get sent back to the Academy, which wasn’t a terrible thing considering they were terrible at being ninjas.

“You won’t succeed unless you come at me with the intention to kill—”

And that was the signal to execute their plan, Naruto couldn’t wait any longer. With a battle cry, he lunged forward and threw a fistful of dirt and sand straight into Kakashi’s eyes. The timing was perfect—Kakashi had just begun to speak, and the distraction hit him unexpectedly, at least Sasuke thought so. For a fraction of a second, the older ninja staggered back, his hands instinctively reaching for his eyes.

Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward Sakura, who had already ducked into the foliage, getting a headstart.

Though Kakashi technically hadn’t started the test yet, they weren’t about to waste an opportunity to make him think they were serious. After all, the three of them were actually normal people who didn’t grow up learning how to fight people to the death. Sasuke pushed off the ground in a smooth motion, drawing from the muscle memory his body had—and dashed to the left, angling to flank Kakashi while he was still disoriented from the dirt. 

He was holding one of the ninja daggers he found in Sasuke’s thigh-pouch thing, and clumsily tried to jab it into Kakashi’s throat. He didn’t want to kill him. He couldn’t kill him. The very thought made him sick. In his past life, he’d spent years becoming a surgeon, someone who saved lives—not someone who took them. He understood the anatomy of the human body all too well. He knew where the carotid artery was, the parts of the neck that, if struck, could cause death in mere seconds.

So, Sasuke hesitated.

But Kakashi, of course, wasn’t the type to stay down for long. Without flinching, he deflected the dagger with a fluid motion, knocking it out of Sasuke’s hand before the blade could reach its target. Then, in the same swift moment, Kakashi kicked Sasuke hard in the chest, sending him flying across the entire clearing.

Sasuke didn’t have time to prepare for the impact. He crashed into a bush, the sharp, spiny branches digging into his back as the air was knocked from his lungs. The world spun for a moment, stars dancing behind his eyes. He groaned, trying to get his bearings, his position on the ground bringing back unpleasant memories of blood and pain. The familiar feeling of being utterly powerless clawed at his insides. 

For a split second, he thought he might have just made the worst decision of his life—what was he thinking of agreeing to this stupid plan? He should’ve asked their teacher if Uchiha Sasuke could drop out of the ninja life completely, no matter if he was ‘the last loyal Uchiha’. Maybe he could’ve spoken up earlier that he wasn’t the real Sasuke and was instead, a very normal surgeon trying his best to make a name for himself.

He didn’t even get the chance to use the fireball jutsu he’d been practicing. Childishly, that’s the part he was hung up on.

“Great. So now you know I can’t even do a proper fireball spell or stab someone,” Sasuke muttered under his breath, pushing himself up with an irritated groan. His body ached from the crash, the bruises already forming beneath his clothes. As he stood, the world still spinning , he spat out curses in frustration. This wasn’t the after-life he wanted.

And that’s when he saw him .

The leaves parted just enough to reveal the glint of round glasses and the silhouette of a man—young, maybe in his early twenties—draped in a doctor’s coat. There was a flash of metal. A scalpel. As the figure stepped closer, the shadows parted away from his face, and Sasuke saw him clearly.

A face he had hoped never to see again.

His breath caught.

His colleague. The one he used to eat lunch with. The one who brought everyone coffee during the night shifts. The one whose younger brother bled out on Sasuke’s operating table after a twenty-hour trauma case. The one who never forgave him. Who stared through him at the funeral. Who stopped speaking to him altogether. Who, one rainy night, waited outside the hospital parking lot with trembling hands and a blade slick with rain and rage.

That face—calm, detached, not even cruel, just… resolved—was the last thing Sasuke had seen before the world went black.

And now it was back. Here. In fucking Naruto , his murderer’s favourite show.

Logically, he knew what this was. Sakura had warned them that Kakashi might use illusions to disorient them and make them vulnerable. But how? How could this face— his face—have followed him here? Was it memory? Was it his own guilt? Or had he not escaped at all? Was he still bleeding out—

Sasuke’s legs locked. His throat tightened. Every instinct screamed run , but his body refused to obey. The scalpel flashed again in the man’s hand. Closer now. He could see the sweat beading in his killer’s palm, the tremble in his grip, the way his eyes twitched with each step forward. Everything was in perfect clarity, a sharpness to the world despite it spinning only seconds ago.

Sakura told him that as an Uchiha, Sasuke had a natural resistance to genjutsu . Well, fuck him in the ass with a chainsaw , because despite knowing— knowing —this was an illusion, he couldn’t break it. It occurred to him, rather bitterly, that maybe Sakura had no clue what she was talking about. Maybe Uchihas were more susceptible than average. It wasn’t like he could fact-check her.

Despite that, Sasuke did the only thing Sakura told him might work in a pinch. He stabbed himself in the thigh with a ninja dagger. Ow .

It felt exactly as stupid as it sounded—who the fuck stabs themselves ? Apparently, twelve-year-old ninja kids. But stupid or not, it worked. The sharp, stinging pain shot up his leg, and the illusion shattered like glass around him—his killer dissolving into smoke, the scalpel vanishing mid-step, the suffocating pressure in his chest finally releasing as the genjutsu broke.

So it was no surprise he felt his body crash into the ground out of exhaustion. Naruto and Sakura could handle the rest of the test themselves, right? They only had forty five minutes until noon, so evading Kakashi until then should be fine. 

Just before his vision gave out completely, he caught a flash of pink and silver darting past him.

Yeah. They were fine.

Pain was the first thing he felt—an ache that was throbbing heat from his thigh. The second was tension—his shoulders wrenched back, arms pinned, muscles straining. The third was stillness. He couldn’t move, he was restrained.

Sasuke tentatively opened a single eye, the world slowly coming back into focus like a fogged mirror after a hot shower. Everything was bright—too bright—and the afternoon sun was somewhere overhead, casting its relentless rays right into his eyes. His head throbbed in sync with his pulse, the kind of migraine he hadn’t felt since pulling a week of all-nighters on five-shot espressos.

He was tied to one of the three logs on the training grounds

Ah.

“Fantastic,” he croaked. His throat was dry, meaning he passed out with his mouth hanging open. Not embarrassing at all.  “Love this. Great afterlife.”

As his eyes adjusted to the relentless glare of the sun, the rest of Team 7 slowly came into view—everyone except Kakashi, who was nowhere in sight. Naruto and Sakura sat nearby, both looking up at him with matching expressions of concern. His vision was still off, like the world had been knocked slightly out of alignment. The sharp clarity from earlier was gone, leaving everything hazy around the edges, like a camera’s focus refusing to lock in.

He squinted harder, trying to focus. “Did I pass out or did he kick me into a coma?”

“Bit of both,” came Kakashi’s voice, now behind him. He’d returned at some point, holding two bento boxes—no doubt for the two who hadn’t been captured. Originally, Sakura’s plan was to let Naruto get tied up, since he’d been doing most of the heavy lifting. But it looked like Sasuke’s dramatic fainting spell had changed their plans.

“Mostly a genjutsu-induced faint,” Kakashi added. “Still, I’m impressed you managed to break it... even if the method was a little unconventional.”

“Yeah,” Sasuke muttered, shifting uncomfortably against the ropes.  “All it took was stabbing myself in the leg. Very ninja of me.”

Kakashi’s brow lifted at the phrasing, but Sasuke couldn’t bring himself to care. What did it matter if he sounded weird? He wasn’t the real Sasuke anyway.

Sakura cleared her throat loudly, attempting to cover for him. “Please ignore him. I think Sasuke-kun got knocked into last week.”

“More like knocked out of his body—”

“Lunch! Let’s eat lunch!” she cut in, shooting him a childish glare. He stuck his tongue out at her. After being knocked unconscious, reliving his murder trauma, and stabbing himself, he figured he was entitled to a little sass. Though… maybe he was easier to rattle now than before. Was it the hormones? Underdeveloped prefrontal cortex? No. Sakura was just being annoying.

Which, ironically, proved the hormones were probably part of the problem.

Kakashi handed out the bento boxes to Sakura and Naruto, the latter immediately poking through the side dishes with deep suspicion—probably hunting for something recognisable.

“I’ve already told these two,” He began, voice flat and unimpressed, “but all of you should seriously reconsider your ninja careers. None of you are ready.”

“Sure, Naruto and Sasuke both chose to engage me right away—bonus points for guts, I suppose—while Sakura kept her distance and tried to assess the situation, but none of you communicated. At all. When Sasuke went down, only Naruto doubled back to check on him. Meanwhile, Sakura was off setting traps and acting solo.”

“And easily, without backup, Naruto was struck down as well.” He paused, letting that sink in. “Now. What was the real reason for this test?”

“You were testing our teamwork,” Sakura replied automatically, the words rolling off her tongue like something memorised from a script. Sasuke, still bound to the log, blinked slowly. Damn. She really had called it. The way Kakashi would criticise Naruto and Sasuke for attacking first, somewhat complimenting Sakura for making distance, and finally scold them for seemingly not communicating with one another.

Kakashi grinned, but it provided no comfort. “Correct, and you failed spectacularly.”

All three of them began to scrutinise their shoes. Even knowing this was part of the plan, being scolded by an adult while trapped in a child’s body hit differently. Sasuke could have argued that he was technically older than everyone in this field—including Kakashi—but shame didn’t care about technicalities. It sank in anyway.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Kakashi said, turning his back on them. “But after lunch. The bells will be harder to get.”

He paused.

“Those who wish for another shot are free to eat—but don’t give any to Sasuke. If you do, you’ll fail immediately. I am the rules here. Got it?” And with that, Kakashi disappeared into the trees. But of course, all three of them knew the creep was still watching—waiting to see if they’d break the rules for the sake of their teammate.

“Here, eat my bento, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura squealed, kneeling beside him without hesitation.

“Uh—yeah, eat up!” Naruto added, awkwardly holding up a piece of katsu with his chopsticks. Considering he’d never used them before in his last life, it was a valiant effort. One that almost made Sasuke chuckle, despite everything from the waist up still aching.

“Thanks,” he murmured, dry-mouthed but grateful that it was almost over. Their acting was awful—obvious, clumsy, awfully convenient—but maybe Kakashi would let it slide and ignore it. Sasuke didn’t have long to enjoy the moment of camaraderie as before he could even take a bite of the bento, Kakashi’s voice echoed from somewhere in the trees.

“Are you done?”

The three of them froze, mid-bite, and immediately looked at each other with wide eyes. They’d known he was watching, but the suddenness of his voice still unnerved them.

Kakashi materialised in the clearing, leaning in front of them as a strong blast of wind messed up their hair and ruffled their clothes. His posture was relaxed, his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants, but his eyes were sharp—studying them all with that unreadable gaze.

“You three…” his voice trailed off, drawing out the suspense. Sasuke resisted the urge to groan. He was so done with the day. “PASS!”

He let out a relieved sigh, rolling his eyes. “Thank fuck . Untie me—”

“What? We passed?” Sakura chimed in, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. Her face was the picture of false confusion, but Sasuke and Naruto could see right through it. Of course she knew they’d pass, they had managed to show the value of teamwork and loyalty, which according to her—was guaranteed to get them to pass.

 “In the ninja world, those who break the rules are scum, that’s true. But those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.” He glanced at them, his eyes sharpening slightly. “I’m impressed you didn’t follow orders blindly. But don’t forget—I expect respect from my students.”

Naruto, giving up on using chopsticks and instead holding a piece of katsu-pork between his fingers, flashed an enthusiastic grin. “You’re not as bad as you look, Kakashi-sensei. When I first saw you, I thought you were some kind of weirdo!”

Sasuke couldn’t help but think... he still was.

“Maa, don’t say that…” Kakashi shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mask. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. Untie him, Naruto. I have somewhere to take the three of you.”

Naruto, eager to please, leapt into action, pulling out a ninja dagger and swiftly slicing through the ropes that bound Sasuke. The ropes fell away, and he quickly worked his sore muscles, stretching his arms as he rubbed his wrists.

 "Thanks," he muttered, barely able to hide the annoyance in his voice as he glared at the back of Kakashi’s head. He was reading an orange book, an 18+ one judging by the cover, what an asshole .

"No problem!" Naruto beamed proudly, oblivious to Sasuke’s irritation towards their teacher. "You should be able to move again, right?”

“Yeah, just sore,” Sasuke grunted, shaking out the stiffness from his arms.

Sakura had already started to pack away their bento boxes, her expression softening a little as she glanced between the two of them. "I’m glad we passed… even though it was kinda more brutal than I expected," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

"Alright, we’re done here,” Kakashi finally spoke up, breaking the brief silence. He looked up from his book, his tone unexpectedly serious. The three of them followed him, silent as the tension slowly built up.  The short walk didn’t lead them far from Training Ground 3, only a few turns away, but the air around them seemed to sombre with each step. He’d seen it in the show. Heard about the monument in Sakura’s lectures on what to expect on the day of the test, and now—here it was. 

Kakashi stopped in front of the stone and gestured for them to gather around. 

“This is the Memorial Stone,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, more serious. “It commemorates all the shinobi who gave their lives for the village. Every name on that stone is a reminder of the sacrifices we make as ninjas. Each one was a hero in their own right.”

 Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sasuke couldn’t help but be a bit selfish. He didn’t want to be a hero, he wanted to go home and return to his old life. He glanced sideways at Naruto and Sakura—one looking awestruck, the other uneasy.

Hopefully, none of their names would end up on the rock.