Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Status]

Name: Sakura Haruno      Level: 1
Class: Academy Student

HP: 50/50                Chakra: 20/20

Strength: 3              Dexterity: 4
Intelligence: 7          Wisdom: 5
Luck: 2

[Status]

Name: Sakura Haruno      Level: 1
Class: Academy Student

HP: 50/50                Chakra: 15/20

Strength: 3              Dexterity: 4
Intelligence: 7          Wisdom: 5
Luck: 2

[Status]

Name: Sakura Haruno      Level: 1
Class: Academy Student

HP: 50/50                Chakra: 14/20

Strength: 3              Dexterity: 4
Intelligence: 7          Wisdom: 5
Luck: 2

Chapter Text

[Observe Skill Leveled Up! Observe Lv. 2 → Lv. 3]

The next few days passed quietly. Sakura didn’t tell anyone. She couldn’t—what if they thought she's crazy? Besides, how could she explain what was happening to her? Floating blue boxes? Levels? Stats?

Even she barely understood it.

No one else seemed to notice the glowing numbers above people’s heads. Not even Naruto, who surely would’ve shouted about it by now if he could see them. No — whatever this was, it was hers alone.

No one else seemed to notice the floating boxes and numbers above people's heads. She stayed in the background, attending classes as usual, her eyes drifting from her notes to the back of Sasuke’s head, half-wondering if she was really just seeing things, or—is this real?

Sometimes she just picks a pebble up and observed it. Ami even saw her mutter about the description of a pebble one time—of course that resulted to endless of teasing.

She kept her head down, attending classes as usual, her eyes drifting from her notes to the back of Sasuke’s head. Half-wondering if she really was going insane or if this new reality had always been there, just waiting for her to see it.

The words whispered again in her mind like a mantra.

It’s real.

The names, the levels, the titles — they weren’t hallucinations. They remained even when she blinked. Even when she rubbed her eyes raw, even in reflections. Solid. Unchanging.

Everywhere she looked, there were numbers. Floating above each person’s head like a constant reminder of the strange new reality she was now a part of. 

She tried to dismiss it at first, to pretend it was Genjutsu. She’d even bitten her thumb once under her desk to break out of it.

She thought if she slept then wake up, it'll be gone but no.

Nothing changed.

She's still in class, still watching Iruka-sensei’s chalk drag across the blackboard, still seeing:

Umino Iruka

Level: ???

Title: Teacher of the Year

Class: Chūnin Instructor

Sakura blinked hard. The question marks were still there.

Every time she tried to [Observe] Iruka-sensei, the result was the same — obscured, as if something about him was protected, shrouded behind some invisible threshold.

Too high-leveled to scan properly... maybe?

And Sasuke…

She could see them, with perfect clarity.

It wasn’t just Sasuke-kun’s name—Uchiha Sasuke, Level 12—or Iruka-sensei’s—Umino Iruka, Level ???—it was everyone. Every person she looked at had a name, a level, and sometimes a title.

They were all there, floating just above their heads, like a hidden layer to the world she had always known.

In class, Sakura’s eyes would drift from her notebook to the back of Sasuke’s head. Every time, she’d see the same thing: his name, his level. 

Sometimes there were strange titles beneath them, too. 

For Sasuke, it was [Prodigy of the Uchiha Clan.] For Iruka-sensei, it was [Teacher of the Year] (which, Sakura found amusing, though she couldn’t exactly share her thoughts with anyone).

Why does everyone have a level? She wondered, trying to push the overwhelming thought to the back of her mind.

There was no answer yet. No explanation. Just the quiet hum of the classroom and the constant presence of the mysterious interface in her mind.

Sakura’s attention wavered as Iruka continued his lesson. Her hand was clenched tight around her pencil, trying to focus on the lesson as she watched her classmates, their floating stats ever-present in her vision.

Hinata Hyuga, Level 8

Title: Shy Heir  

Class: Academy Student

Ino Yamanaka, Level 6

Title: Yamanaka Clan Heir  

Class: Academy Student

Shikamaru Nara, Level 10

Title: Lazy Genius  

Class: Academy Student

Sasuke Uchiha, Level 12  

Title: Prodigy of the Uchiha Clan  

Class: Academy Student

And there it was again. Sasuke-kun.

She couldn’t help but glance at his name every time, the level above his head standing out like a beacon. Level 12. It made sense, of course—Sasuke-kun had always been a prodigy. 

He'd been the best student in the whole batch.

Her eyes lingered. That level… it's so far beyond hers. Not that she was surprised — Sasuke have always been exceptional. Talented. Driven. The kind of person who would change the world.

And she…

Haruno Sakura — Level 1

Class: Academy Student

It still made her chest tighten every time she saw it. A constant reminder. A quantification of every insecurity she’d buried behind perfect grades and forced smiles whenever she's being teased by Ami and her group.

But now — now she had something else.

Something no one else seemed to have.

She could see more. Understand more. Become more.

She just have to figure out how.

Each title lingers in her vision, floating just above her classmates’ heads like tiny banners only she could read. They pulsed faintly, as if reacting to her gaze.

Why do we have levels?

What’s the system even measuring?

Skill? Potential? Battle ability?

She tapped her eraser to the desk. Her mind raced far ahead of the lesson.

And then… her eyes returned to him again.

Uchiha Sasuke – Level 12

Title: Prodigy of the Uchiha Clan

No matter how many times she checked, it never changed. Always Level 12. Always just… ahead.

She swallowed hard, blinking back the frustration.

Of course he’s stronger. He's the top of the class.

But for the first time, that frustration didn’t feel helpless.

For the first time, she had numbers to see too. 

She just didn’t know how to raise her own.

How to raise that 1 to 12, even more!

She tapped the end of her pen to her lip, eyes fixed blankly ahead. Her classmates blurred around her—just shapes and flickering banners in her peripheral vision. The droning of the lecture turned into static.

Level 1.

It stared back at her like a brand. A label. A ceiling.

She hated it.

She hated that number like it had personally insulted her. Like it had looked at her potential, shrugged, and handed her a participation trophy.

No matter how pretty her handwriting was, how sharp her test scores were, how neatly she lined her margins—it didn’t matter. Not here.

Not when those glowing numbers marched above heads like silent rankings.

And she wasn’t even starting at Level 5 or 6, like some hidden genius waiting to blossom. No.

One.

Solid, unimpressive, embarrassing one.

Her pen tapped harder.

What was she supposed to do? Train?

But train how? Swinging kunai at targets like an idiot in the courtyard?

Meditating under a waterfall? Eating more protein? Was chakra involved?

Should she be trying to sense something?

She scowled. If this thing had a tutorial, she would’ve read it ten times over by now.

And then—Bing!

[Tutorial Unlocked]

Beginner System Integration Detected

Mental Sync Threshold Reached: 87%

Opening guide...

She froze.

The sound wasn’t loud. Just a small, bright chime. No one else reacted.

But in the space just above her desk, a translucent square bloomed into view. Pale blue. Crisp text. And utterly impossible.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Still there.

Welcome to the Skill Growth System™

Status: Active (Low Sync – Stabilizing)

Progression is driven by:

• Skill Acquisition

• Physical and Mental Challenge

• Combat or High-Stress Situations

• Stat Growth through Practice

• Insightful Thought Patterns (tracked)

Tip: Thinking critically about the system improves system clarity. Keep going. :)

The smiley face made her want to break something. Ha...

She pressed her back against the chair, knuckles white around her pen.

This was real. It was really real.

Not a hallucination. Not some chakra-based prank. Not the side effect of missing breakfast.

This thing was synced to her mind. And it had been tracking her thoughts.

Her eyes drifted down to her notebook, where she’d scrawled her half-finished hypothesis.

So that counted.

Insightful thought patterns…

Skill acquisition…

She looked at the words again, slower this time. Measuring. Turning each over.

Train. Practice. Fight. Think.

So that was it.

She could do that.

She could definitely do that.

Her fingers started moving before she could stop them, flipping to a fresh page.

Across the top, she wrote in big, underlined strokes:

LEVEL UP PLAN – PHASE 1

1. Gather baseline data

2. Test variables (chakra, stamina, taijutsu)

3. Track level shifts

4. Log thoughts, dreams, instincts

5. Monitor classmates for patterns

She glanced around the room again, slower this time. Eyes lingering on each level. Each title.

She tapped her pen once more to the paper, the motion softer now. Focused. The words stared back at her with sterile simplicity, like a lab report waiting to be filled. It was strange—how just writing it down made the whole thing feel clinical.

Real.

Like it wasn’t just a trick of her tired brain or some weird genjutsu trap. This was hers. Her system. Her variables. Her project.

Baseline data first.

She lowered her eyes to the top-left corner of the page and scribbled her own information down like a scientist observing herself from a distance.

Sakura Haruno – Level 1

Title: None

Chakra Control: ???

Taijutsu: Below average

Ninjutsu: Average

Stamina: Questionable

Known Skills: Transformation Jutsu, Clone Jutsu, Substitution

She paused after writing "questionable," frowning faintly. Not the most flattering portfolio. But accurate. Brutally so.

Before she could spiral, a flicker of movement pulled her gaze up—just in time to meet Ino’s unimpressed stare from two rows over.

Great.

Yamanaka Ino – Level 6

Title: Yamanaka Clan Heir

Of course she out-leveled her by 5 levels more. Of course.

Ino raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her chin tilted just enough to make it clear that she’d caught Sakura scribbling. Probably assumed she was writing some weird diary entry or a love note again. The corners of her mouth curled—mocking, practiced.

Sakura didn’t rise to it. Not at first.

But then Ino smirked.

And Sakura’s hand twitched.

Ino mouthed something across the desks. Sakura couldn’t quite hear it, but she didn’t need to. The smug expression said enough. Something like “daydreaming about Sasuke again?” Or maybe, “are you writing his name in hearts?”

Her pen dropped to the desk with a soft tap.

“Doesn't matter, I can just level up." she muttered under her breath, just loud enough to carry. “Keep talking, I might level up just from resisting the urge to strangle you.”

Ino’s eyes widened slightly—surprised, maybe even impressed on the nonsense she heard—but then she rolled them hard enough to make it theatrical. “Wow, Sakura. Big words from someone whose chakra reserves run on fumes.”

Funny.

“Funny,” Sakura said, lifting her pen again with a mock-sweet smile. “I thought psychic clans specialized in reading minds, not failing at reading the room.”

“Oh, please—”

“Girls,” Iruka’s voice cut in like a kunai, tired and exasperated. “Unless you’re planning on dueling with erasers, I’d prefer we return to the lesson.”

Ino folded her arms and leaned back with a huff. Sakura mirrored her, jaw tight. Neither of them apologized. It's tradition by now.

But while Iruka-sensei resumed talking about mission protocol and chain-of-command formations, Sakura’s fingers slid beneath her desk. Her thumb brushed the air gently, willing the now-familiar glow into place.

[Observe – Lv. 3]

Target: Yamanaka Ino

There was a flicker—brighter than before. The interface shimmered subtly, as if the upgrade had polished the lens. She expected the usual information: name, level, clan title. But just beneath that, there was a new line.

A comment.

Condition: Chakra strain – Minor. Mental fatigue detected.

Sakura blinked. That hadn’t been there before.

She leaned back slowly, keeping her expression neutral as she folded her arms across her notebook and stared ahead.

So… [Observe] could improve.

That changed everything.

Sakura stared straight ahead, but her focus had long since shifted inward. The lecture faded behind a fog of static; Iruka’s voice became nothing more than a dull drone. She’d read this chapter already—“D-Rank Missions and Client Relations.”

Basic. Boring. Predictable.

But what wasn’t predictable was the line that had appeared under Ino’s name. Chakra strain. Mental fatigue.

What was she doing? Training? 

Of course. Of course, she does. She's a clan heir.

Sakura stared at the new line for a full five seconds.

It wasn’t much. Just a sliver of data. But it changed everything.

She slid her eyes toward the back of the class, scanning the others.

Kiba was slouching against his arm, barely awake, Akamaru curled in the folds of his jacket. His title—“Inuzuka Alpha's Son”—flashed as always. Level 6.

But when she focused harder, nothing new popped up.

Shino: still stiff, focused, Level 8. Title unchanged. No condition listed. Probably because he wasn’t pushing himself. Just listening.

Sakura turned her gaze slowly to Naruto.

Still Level 4.

Uzumaki Naruto – Level 4

Title: Unlabeled Potential

...Now that was new.

Her stomach tensed.

She’d [Observed] Naruto earlier this week, when she first noticed the system, just to see if there was a hidden joke title like “Class Clown” or “Living Nuisance.” But back then, there had been nothing.

Just the level and his name.

"Unlabeled Potential." What did that mean?

Why now?

Was it her [Observe] that changed… or him?

She squinted. He was doodling on his desk with the back of a chopstick wrapper, muttering to himself about lunch.

No sign of effort.

That gave her pause.

So maybe the system didn’t just respond to action, but intention. Growth isn't loud unless the person directly yells it loud to the world to know.

Sometimes it was microscopic. Internal. Invisible, except to someone who knew how to look.

That realization spread through her like a slow spark catching in dry grass.

She straightened in her seat.

Track level shifts. Log thoughts. Monitor patterns.

These weren’t bullet points. They were keys.

She slid her notebook closer, hand moving before her brain even caught up.

> System may respond to:

Observation of others?

Insightful interpretation?

Emotional awareness?

Mental state during Observe?

She hesitated, then added:

> Mindset shift?

That was what had just happened, wasn’t it?

She had used [Observe] differently. Not passively. Not out of habit or to feed her insecurity.

She’d searched. She had looked not to compare herself, but to understand.

That wasn’t just clicking a function. That was a decision.

She scribbled again, handwriting tighter now:

> System responds to deliberate cognition

→ Not just seeing, but thinking about what is seen

→ Emotion + analysis = deeper access?

A sudden chime interrupted her train of thought.

Ding!

Text bloomed faintly across the top of her vision, tinged with the same pale blue light as before.

[Observe Skill Leveled Up! Observe Lv. 3 → Lv. 4]

Sakura’s breath caught. Her heart gave a single, quiet thump, like her body was acknowledging something before her mind did.

Then—

Sakura Haruno – Level 2

Title: None

Condition: Mentally Active. Cognitive Pattern Recognized.

She blinked hard, rereading the words three times.

Her level had gone up.

Her level had gone up.

She hadn’t thrown a punch. She hadn’t summoned chakra. She hadn’t even stood up.

She had thought. Connected dots. Observed deliberately. Chosen focus over noise.

And it had counted.

A tiny, wild laugh rose in her throat and got trapped halfway up. She pressed her lips shut and coughed instead.

That number—her number—isn't static. 

Her spine straightened, and this time it wasn’t just out of focus. It was quiet pride. Not much. Barely there.

But it settled behind her ribs like a warm ember.

She turned her notebook to a fresh page.

LEVEL UP PLAN – PHASE 2

1. Refine observation (focus on emotional/mental conditions)

2. Continue tracking changes with specific intentions

3. Experiment with different mental approaches

4. Log changes in self-state (fatigue, confidence, doubt)

5. Explore non-physical routes to leveling

She paused at the bottom of the list.

Then, slowly, she added:

6. Prove I don’t need a bloodline to matter.

Her fingers pressed harder into the page, circling number 6.

Chapter Text

The sun was high by the time Sakura reached the edge of the academy training grounds. The field stretched out in quiet, worn dirt patches and soft grass, the kind of space that bore the marks of endless childhood sparring matches, chakra slips, and ungraceful landings. 

It's mostly empty for now—lunch break meant most students were crowding under shade with their friends or sneaking off to the convenience stalls just beyond the gates.

Sakura sat on the edge of a worn wooden bench facing the sparring ring, lunchbox on her lap. She didn’t bother seeking anyone out.

Alone was easier when your mind was as loud as hers had become after her opportunity had gone up.

She popped the lid open, chewing absentmindedly on a rice ball as her eyes drifted down to the dirt by her feet.

A pebble.

Plain. Round. Utterly ordinary.

She reached out with a finger, tapped it once, and then focused.

[Observe] – Lv. 4

Target: Pebble

> An ordinary stone. Harmless, small, and unremarkable.

Origin: Eroded from training ground debris.

May cause minor inconvenience if stepped on barefoot.

Sakura blinked.

“…Okay.”

It was dumb, but the added sentence made her feel absurdly accomplished. Her skill had leveled up.

Leveled up for her meant she gets stronger—leveling up a skill means it gets better.

That's... nice.

It could now sense pointless, boring detail—and deliver it with passive-aggressive commentary.

That last line about stepping barefoot?

Absolutely unnecessary.

Completely delightful.

Wow.

She picked up the pebble and rolled it between her fingers thoughtfully.

Nothing special. Really.

Just as she dropped the pebble back onto the dirt and snag another batch of noodle to her mouth, another notification flared to life in the corner of her vision.

[Status Updated]

Sakura Haruno – Level 2

New stat points available: 5

[Tutorial: Stat Allocation Unlocked]

> Congratulations! Upon leveling up, you have earned 5 Attribute Points (AP). These can be allocated into your core stats to enhance specific capabilities.

Would you like to allocate your points now?

[Yes] / [No]

Her chopsticks froze mid-air, noodles forgotten.

“Wait… I get to choose?”

She tapped [Yes].

The interface shifted.

A simple screen appeared in front of her like a transparent overlay, hovering gently in her field of vision.

[Stat Allocation]

Available Points: 5

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 4

Intelligence: 7

Wisdom: 5

Luck: 2

Chakra Pool: 14/20

HP: 50/50

→ Hover over any stat to learn more.

She tapped Strength, and a tooltip expanded beneath it.

> Strength – Physical force and impact. Affects melee damage, lifting ability, and stamina drain from physical movement.

Increasing this stat makes you less of a noodle.

Sakura squinted.

“Okay. Rude.” she mumbles under her breath. Just because she's weak and can barely even do anything doesn't mean she's like a noodle!

She hovered next over Intelligence.

> Intelligence – Governs chakra control, learning speed, and skill improvement efficiency.

Increasing this stat makes learning jutsu easier and reduces chakra cost for abilities.

Now that was more like it.

She bit her lower lip, tapping the side of her bento box with her chopsticks.

She only had five points. Not enough to fix everything. But maybe enough to start carving a path forward.

> Allocate:

+2 to Intelligence

+1 to Wisdom

+1 to Chakra Pool

+1 to Dexterity

A low chime sounded when she confirmed.

[Stats Updated!]

Sakura Haruno – Level 2

HP: 50/50 → 50/50

Chakra: 14/20 → 16/22

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 4 → 5

Intelligence: 7 → 9

Wisdom: 5 → 6

Luck: 2

“Better,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

Nothing outside her had changed. The field is still quiet. The breeze still warm. Her bento still half-eaten on her Lap. A few student voices echoed in the distance, maybe tossing a kunai back and forth, but it all felt far away—muted, like background static.

Sakura leaned back on her palms and tilted her head upward, eyes squinting against the sunlight. The blue above stretched endlessly, too big and bright to hold her thoughts, but she let her gaze drift there anyway.

Her pink hair swayed slightly in the breeze, strands brushing her cheeks. She blinked slowly, her lips parting just a little.

She really wanted more.

More understanding. More control. More of this power.

She wanted to learn.

That’s when another soft chime echoed in her head, like wind chimes clinking gently at a temple gate.

[QUEST COMPLETE: AWARENESS BLOOMS]

> You have increased your first stat. The System has acknowledged your growth.

[REWARD GRANTED]

→ 100 EXP

→ Skill Scroll: Basic Meditation

Her eyes widened slightly.

Oh. Right.

She sat up straighter. That had been from the first day she had gotten this nonsense—the first objective that popped up when she’d stared at her stats long enough to realize they could change.

She hadn’t expected it to remember. Or to count such a small step.

But here it was.

“Basic Meditation…" she murmured, fingers moving instinctively as a new interface shimmered into view.

[Item Acquired – Skill Scroll: Basic Meditation]

Unlearned Skill

> Teaches: [Basic Meditation]

A foundational technique for recovering chakra and improving mental clarity. Enhances chakra control with repeated use.

Recommended for: beginners, overthinkers, and stressed-out students.

Sakura snorted.

“Stressed-out students?” she muttered dryly.

The scroll shimmered once, then—poof—disappeared in a blink of light.

Sakura froze.

“…Huh?”

She looked down at her lap. Then the bench. Then the ground.

Gone.

Her fingers hovered awkwardly over empty air. “Where did it—?”

And then, just above her line of sight, a pale icon blinked into existence.

[Inventory Available]

> Tap to open.

“Huh?” she blinked. “What’s… inventory?”

The scroll had vanished—just poofed into digital glitter in front of her eyes—and yet, somehow, she knew it had gone somewhere.

Somewhere not-real.

Somewhere inside the system.

And when she asked the question—aloud or in her head, she wasn’t sure—something responded.

Her vision pulsed.

A faint glow shimmered at the edges of her focus, and then, just like that, a new window unfolded before her like a menu screen from a game she didn’t remember installing.

[Inventory]

Slot Item Description

1 Skill Scroll – Basic Meditation A consumable scroll containing a beginner chakra technique.

2 Half-Eaten Lunch — Tastes better than expected. Provides minor HP recovery.

3 Notebook (Stat Logs) — Sakura’s personal notes on the system. Scribbled and neurotic.

4 Pebble — An ordinary stone. You keep picking it up for some reason.

– (Empty) –

She stared.

Her mouth opened, then closed again.

“…I can store stuff.” She leaned forward, lips pressed together in disbelief. “I’m literally walking around with an invisible, weightless scroll."

Scrolls were expensive—especially sealing scrolls for items. And here she is with a scroll that just works only for her.

Her fingers tapped idly on her bento lid again. The half-eaten rice ball was still in her hand, but it now had a label in the corner of her vision:

[Item: Half-Eaten Lunch] – Store in inventory?

She tapped yes, almost on impulse.

It vanished, a soft flicker of light taking it away.

The space in her lap was now empty.

She yelped, not out of fear, but—“Oh my god, it worked—!”

She clapped her hands once, eyes wide with something.

Inventory. Skills. Stats. Quests.

This thing’s an actual system.

Not a dream. Not a delusion. 

She checked again and found the meditation scroll still sitting in her inventory—until she tapped it, and—Her backpack hadn’t moved. Her hands were empty. Her bento was in the void now.

Her mouth opened slightly in stunned awe.

“This is—okay, this is definitely cheating.”

She tapped the scroll.

A brief prompt blinked.

> Use Skill Scroll?

[Yes] / [No]

She selected [Yes].

The scroll disintegrated into a soft shimmer of energy, warmth coiling at the base of her skull like the air before a summer storm. Her eyes fluttered as the system absorbed it straight into her memory.

No paper. No studying. Just learned.

[Skill Learned: Basic Meditation – Lv. 1]

She leaned back slowly on the bench, both hands resting on her knees now, unsure whether she should laugh or scream.

But more than anything—she felt intrigued.

“...shannaro..."

Not a dream. 

She opened her Status screen again, then tapped over to Skills. A new entry was listed there:

[Basic Meditation – Lv. 1]

> A foundational technique for stilling the mind and restoring chakra.

Passively improves chakra regeneration and chakra control over time.

Effect: Restores +2 Chakra every 10 minutes while meditating.

Can evolve with mastery.

Of course.

Of course, it can! It's the same as [Observe].

She chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.

That would help. Not just now—but for everything. Chakra control was crucial. She knew that much, even as an academy student.

The skill didn't cost chakra. It restored it. And it could evolve.

And if this was here... what else could she learn?

Her gaze drifted again to the sparring field beyond the bench. The dirt circle, the training dummies, the faded scuff marks on the ground from countless mock battles. She could hear the others now—returning from lunch.

Voices echoing down the walkway, laughter bouncing in the open air, the metallic clink of shin guards and practice weapons slung lazily over shoulders.

Lunch break was ending.

Sakura stood, brushing a few crumbs off her skirt before reaching for her bento—then paused. 

Right. It's inside her [Inventory.]

She felt her hand close around nothing. It should’ve been strange. But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Not after pebbles and scrolls and glowing stat sheets.

Somehow, this weird magic system had already begun to feel… logical.

Like hers.

Sakura adjusted her bag and then reached for her kunai pouch out of habit, fingers curling around the leather. Immediately, the system offered again—

> “Would you like to store this item in inventory?”

→ [No]

She gave the tiniest eye-roll. Not everything, thanks.

With her pouch secured at her hip and her lunch safely stored in some invisible pocket dimension, she made her way toward the training circle.

The sun was brighter now, casting a soft gold over the dirt and benches.

The class was starting to gather.

She stood off to the side, quiet as ever, and watched.

There was Ino—already talking too loud, her hair gleaming in the light, flanked by Shikamaru (slouching) and Chōji (chewing). Their usual trio, perfectly balanced between noise, apathy, and snacks.

Normal.

Naruto showed up next, practically bouncing on his heels, his voice rising above the rest in rapidfire annoyance as he bickered with Kiba about something—probably food or sparring partners.

Akamaru barked once from Kiba’s hoodie, as if to weigh in.

Ami arrived with her clones-of-friends, shooting Sakura a look like she was something she’d just scraped off her shoe.

Sakura didn’t flinch. Just raised one eyebrow and frowned.

And then—there he was.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Alone, as always. Silent, unreadable, untouchable. He walked toward the field with that same strange gravity he always carried, like the world bent slightly around him.

Sakura’s fingers twitched.

She wanted to [Observe] him again, but—she didn’t. Not yet.

She already knew what she’d see.

And then, the teachers arrived.

Iruka-sensei’s voice carried across the field as he stepped onto the grass, clipboard in hand, a half-smile on his face. “Alright everyone, line up for attendance before we pair off—”

Beside him walked Mizuki-sensei, hands in his pockets, the silver of his hair catching the sunlight.

He looked like usual: calm, pleasant, harmless.

Let’s test it. Sakura happily thinks as she whispered the command in her head like a secret prayer.

[Observe.]

[Iruka Umino – Level ??]

Title: Teacher of The Year

> A devoted and reliable teacher who genuinely cares about the growth of his students. Known for patience, fairness, and the ability to handle chaos—especially when it’s blond and loud.

Status: Healthy. Slightly Tired. Has memorized everyone’s names (even Naruto’s full name).

Sakura smiled faintly.

Yeah. That tracks.

She shifted her gaze.

Mizuki-sensei.

Again, the words floated up. But this time, she felt the shift immediately.

[Observe.]

[Mizuki – Level ??]

Title: Traitor (Hidden)

> A deceptive and ambitious man with plans in motion far beyond the classroom. Appears kind, but harbors resentment toward the village and a secret agenda involving forbidden jutsu.

Status: Calm. Calculating. Watching.

Her mouth parted slightly.

Her breath caught in her throat.

H...huh.

She stared a second longer, her face carefully blank.

She didn’t look away. Didn’t blink.

But her heart began to pound—not out of panic, but something colder. Sharper.

The system would never lied.

And if this was what it showed…

Now, she knows.

Chapter Text

She gulped, her mouth opening and closing, dry.

...No way.

Mizuki-sensei?

Her eyes didn’t leave the glowing text above his head, even as the window faded after a few seconds. It didn’t change. The word sat there—quiet, damning.

Traitor (Hidden).

Her brain locked up, half-stuttering over the word.

He’s been her teacher since she was seven years old.

A little kinder than Iruka, a little more lenient. Always with that pleasant voice, like he actually liked his job. He gave out sweets sometimes after class. He complimented her test scores.

He's normal.

He is supposed to be... right?

“Alright, class!” Iruka’s voice cut through the field, breaking her spiral like a hand snapping fingers in front of her face. “Start with your warm-up lap!"

It wasn’t a guess. It wasn’t a “maybe.” It was there. Coded and confirmed.

Just like Iruka-sensei was “Teacher of The Year.” Just like Sasuke was “Prodigy of the Uchiha Clan.”

It's not symbolic.

It's a fact.

Her breath hitched, but she masked it as exertion. She stretched her arms to the right—her left arm next.

Her focus tunneled.

What is he planning?

What does he want?

And—most pressing—

Why hasn’t anyone else noticed?

“Alright, class!” Iruka’s voice rang out sharp and clear across the training field. “Ten laps around the perimeter! Full circle, no shortcuts!”

A groan rippled through the group. Even Naruto shouted, “Ten? That’s insane!”—but he still took off running like someone had dared him.

Sakura blinked.

Wait. Ten?

She barely managed six on a good day without her lungs trying to exit her body.

She stood there, stunned for half a second, until a few kids brushed past her. Then she forced her legs into motion, falling into a jog with the others.

Her feet slapped against the dirt path. The breeze from earlier had warmed into a mild heat, the sun pressing down on her shoulders.

Okay. Okay. One lap. Just one at a time.

[Status – Level 2]

Sakura Haruno

HP: 50/50 | Chakra: 20/22

Strength: 3 | Dexterity: 5

Intelligence: 9 | Wisdom: 6 | Luck: 2

She started running.

The dirt path crunched beneath her shoes. Her pace was steady, eyes forward. Around her, students passed, some faster, some slower, but she didn’t look at them.

Not yet.

Alright, she thought, let’s see what this body can do now.

Her upgraded Dexterity gave her a lightness in her steps. Not speed—she wasn’t suddenly Sasuke-kun—but her footing felt more precise.

Each stride was more efficient, each pivot on the corner a little sharper.

Her breathing stayed even for the first three laps.

Lap four, her legs started to feel the pull. But her Wisdom kept the panic at bay. Her thoughts didn’t spiral like before.

No internal voice whispering you’re not built for this, you’ll embarrass yourself, just slow down.

None of that.

Just:

Focus on your breathing. You know your pace. Don’t let your brain quit before your body does.

She adjusted her tempo mid-run. Shortened her strides on the uphill.

Relaxed her grip when her fists got too tight.

Little things, but they mattered.

By lap six, her thighs burned.

Seven, and she saw black around the edges of her vision—but she blinked hard, re-centered her breathing.

Her Intelligence kicked in like a second wind: logical, calm, clinical. Break the pain into parts. Manage it.

Lap eight. Her heartbeat thundered, but she still ran.

Lap nine. Her muscles screamed, but her brain was louder.

Lap ten. Her legs were lead—but she finished it. Still upright. Still running.

She didn’t even notice when she passed Ino.

Didn’t care.

[+5 EXP]

[Wisdom ≥ 6 — minor fatigue resistance applied]

[Dexterity ≥ 5 — movement efficiency slightly improved]

Sakura slowed to a walk, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her body ached—but her mind was clear.

She didn’t collapse. She didn’t cry. She didn’t give up.

She was better.

Even if no one else saw it—she did.

And that was enough.

“Kunai drills! Line up by the logs!” Mizuki called out.

She stopped short.

And remembered.

Traitor.

The word slid back into her head like a dagger behind the ribs.

Her stomach twisted, a different kind of tight. She turned slowly to face the man who had taught her how to hold a kunai in the first place.

Mizuki smiled. Waved.

As she approached the log targets, her hand dipped into the crate of dull-edged practice kunai.

While her classmates began to stretch and pair off under Iruka-sensei’s instructions, Sakura stayed near the equipment crate, letting her fingers graze over the pile of standard-issue training kunai.

The metal was dull—not sharpened for killing, just enough to bruise if you weren't careful. She picked one up, weighing it in her hand.

Still not used to it. She’d always gripped kunai the textbook way, but never felt anything from it. No reaction, no instinct.

Now she had another option.

“Observe,” she whispered under her breath, focusing her gaze.

A faint flicker crossed her vision.

She picked one out, weighing it in her palm.

[Practice Kunai]

A standard Academy-issued training weapon.

Blunted for safety, balanced for beginner use.

Effective for practicing throws and grip control.

Durability: 32/40

Note: Slightly worn from repeated use.

Sakura blinked.

That was... new.

It didn’t just tell her what it was, it told her how worn it was. And the line about balance—that might actually help.

She turned the kunai in her palm, noting the weight again, trying to match what she read with what she felt.

Her [Observe] skill was definitely improving.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, trying again with a different one from the pile.

[Practice Kunai]

A training kunai slightly bent at the tip.

Throwing accuracy reduced.

Durability: 26/40

Note: Not ideal for precision work.

Ah.

So even these had differences—subtle ones, but important. How many times had she grabbed just any random weapon without checking?

If she hadn't leveled up [Observe], she'd still be blind to all of it.

Sakura took the better of the two kunai and slid it into her pouch.

Before she took her stance, a soft chime echoed in her head.

[New Skill Unlocked: Running Lv. 1]

You’ve put your legs to use and lived to tell the tale.

+1% movement speed

+Reduced stamina loss when sprinting

[New Skill Unlocked: Throwing – Kunai Lv. 1]

Basic proficiency in throwing knives, kunai, and similar projectiles.

+Slight accuracy boost

+Minor crit chance when hitting weak points

She blinked.

...That counts as a skill? she thought, glancing down at her legs, still faintly trembling from the ten laps. She guess anything counts if you survive it.

The dull ache in her calves made her wince, but a small, crooked smile tugged at her lips. She didn’t look stronger, but her body was responding to the system.

Incrementally. Quietly. Like water shaping stone.

Across the field, Iruka-sensei was reading names off his clipboard with the same energy he used every day—half-patient, half-resigned.

“Kiba—Naruto… Ugh, please don’t aim at each other.”

Kiba let out a bark of laughter. Naruto was already halfway into a one-sided kunai-throwing contest, clearly convinced he could out-muscle physics.

Their weapons flew with the grace of startled cats—wobbling, over-spinning, clattering off wood.

“Haruno Sakura.” Iruka called, eyes scanning the group until they landed on her after calling out countless of students.

She stepped forward without a word, hands at her sides. Her kunai pouch jostled lightly against her hip, the weight familiar but suddenly more significant now that it was part of something measurable.

Trackable. Upgradable.

“Five kunai, center post,” Iruka instructed with a nod.

Sakura gave a short nod back, eyes narrowing as she walked to her mark. Her fingers were steady this time. No nerves. Just breath. Technique.

She lined up her stance. Drew the first kunai.

The others were watching casually now—nothing serious yet, just drills. But Sakura’s world had shrunk down to a ten-meter line, five knives, and one weather-worn post.

[Observe], she whispered mentally, just before she threw.

[Target: Wooden Post]

Well-worn target used for basic throwing drills.

Has seen better days.

Durability: 29/50

The first kunai flew. Not perfect, but clean. It struck off-center with a solid thunk, sinking deep enough to count.

She didn’t pause.

Second kunai—tighter grip, smoother release. Almost dead center.

Third wobbled. Fourth compensated. Fifth landed like a pin drop.

She exhaled as the final kunai embedded into the post.

Five in. None dropped. All counted.

It wasn’t showy. It wasn’t loud.

But Iruka raised his brows, just slightly.

“Nice grouping,” he said, making a note.

Sakura just nodded once and stepped back into line.

[Throwing – Kunai has gained EXP.]

[Throwing - Kunai has gained EXP.]

[Throwing - Kunai Lv. 1→ 2]

[Improved hand-eye coordination. +2% accuracy]

[+Lower margin of error at mid-range]

[+4 EXP]

[Chakra slightly restored through controlled breath. +1 Chakra.]

Around her, the chatter resumed. Students cycled through the drill. No one paid her much mind. Not yet.

But her system was listening. Recording. Quietly turning effort into growth.

She returned to her spot, eyes flicking across the field again. This time not at someone else, or Ino, or even Sasuke.

Her gaze found Mizuki-sensei again.

Still smiling. Still pretending.

Traitor.

She stepped back into the line, still half in her head, when someone bumped into her shoulder—not hard, just enough to jostle her slightly off-balance.

“Oh—sorry, Sakura,” came a familiar voice.

She blinked, glanced sideways.

A flash of orange swirls on a bag of chips.

“Chōji,” she said, not annoyed. Just surprised.

Huh.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, mouth still half-full. “Didn’t see you there. Kinda zoned out.”

She raised a brow, shifting slightly to face him. “During drills?”

He shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth. “M’not great at throwing anyway. Just wanna get to sparring.”

Sakura tilted her head. Huh. Same energy as Naruto, but quieter. Not lazy like Shikamaru. Just… soft-spoken.

She tried [Observe], casually.

[Akimichi Chōji – Level 6]

Title: Gentle Appetite

Loyal and kind-hearted. Never underestimate what kindness can grow into.

HP: 88/88 | Chakra: 35/35

Her lips parted slightly.

“You’re not bad,” she said, slowly.

He blinked at her. “Huh?”

“Your stats,” she said, then quickly added, “I mean, your throwing. I’ve seen worse.”

The HP is higher than hers, chakra too.

He gave her a sideways look, a little amused, a little confused. “You okay, Sakura?”

She paused. Then just gave a small shrug. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About training. Improvement.”

“Oh.” Chōji nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah. Makes sense. We’re gonna be genin soon.”

That gave her pause.

Genin.

It still felt like some far-off concept, but the way Chōji said it—simple, matter-of-fact—it grounded her.

“You’re not worried?” she asked.

Chōji chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Kinda. But Dad says everyone grows at their own pace. Long as I don’t give up.”

Sakura looked at him for a long moment.

Then: “That’s… actually good advice.”

He beamed at that, cheeks puffing out with a grin—and another chip.

“You wanna share?” he asked, lifting the bag toward her.

She hesitated. Normally she wouldn't eat snacks. It would make her fat—or so she thinks before.

Then took one. “Sure.”

[You have gained +1 Affection with Akimichi Chōji.]

[Sometimes, growth is quiet.]

“Thanks,” she said, munching silently beside him.

No rivalry. No sharp barbs. No need to prove anything.

Cute. Her lips curved up slightly, her head tilting as she closed her eyes.

Iruka clapped his hands twice to get their attention, the sound sharp enough to cut through the leftover murmurs from the match. “Alright, good work so far. We’ll split into two groups now—Mizuki-sensei will supervise chakra flow drills by the west field. I’ll handle the remaining spars here.”

Some students groaned at the mention of chakra drills. Others looked relieved to avoid more bruises.

"For the students I called, head over there with Mizuki-sensei’s group,” Iruka called, scanning the clipboard. "Choji, Shino, Ruka, Sawaki...."

Chōji gave Sakura a look—nothing dramatic, just a quiet moment of shared acknowledgement. He nodded once, still holding his chip bag, and turned toward the west field.

Sakura hesitated when her name wasn’t called with him. She stepped slightly to the side, just enough for their eyes to meet again.

No words. Just a flicker of a glance.

She gave a small nod.

He gave one back.

Then they split, each walking in opposite directions across the field.

Sakura joined the group near Iruka-sensei. Naruto was already bounding up and down like he’d had sugar for breakfast. Kiba was stretching with Akamaru barking along.

Ino tossed her ponytail and made a dramatic sound of disinterest, while Sasuke stood off to the side with his arms crossed, quiet and unreadable as ever.

Iruka began calling out more matchups.

The field buzzed with movement—pair after pair stepping in, sparring, bowing out.

She watched the next few without much emotion. Some were clumsy, others fast but messy. Most ended quickly. No one surprised her.

Then:

“Uzumaki Naruto versus Uchiha Sasuke.”

The whole class shifted at once, like a ripple through still water.

Even Ino stopped pretending not to care.

Sakura stood straighter, arms folded loosely over her chest. Her heart thumped once. Not from nerves—but from something closer to anticipation.

Naruto jogged up to the sparring circle with his usual grin, waving both arms like he was about to take the stage. “Alright! Let’s go, dattebayo!”

Sasuke followed silently, expression unchanged. His eyes never left Naruto.

The difference in how they carried themselves was stark. Naruto bounced on his heels, all bluster and energy. Sasuke was still and razor-sharp, posture relaxed but tight with control.

Sakura’s eyes flicked upward instinctively.

[Uchiha Sasuke – Level 12]

Title: Prodigy of the Uchiha Clan

[Uzumaki Naruto – Level 4]

Title: Unlabeled Potential

She frowned slightly.

Still Level 12. Still so far ahead. Her gaze lingered on Sasuke. But Naruto’s only Level 4 and still…

Naruto charged first, no hesitation. A sloppy right hook and too much forward momentum. Sasuke didn’t even flinch—just pivoted and caught Naruto’s arm mid-swing, flipping him hard onto the dirt with a clean motion.

“Ow—HEY!” Naruto barked, scrambling back to his feet, covered in dust.

Sasuke didn’t respond. He waited.

Naruto launched again. This time a series of wild punches.

Sasuke dodged the first two, blocked the third, and responded with a low sweep that knocked Naruto off balance again. His footwork was fluid, effortless, almost bored.

But Naruto wasn’t giving up.

He came in again. Again.

The crowd grew quieter. Less laughter now. Even Kiba had stopped snickering.

Sakura watched closely. Not just Sasuke’s technique—but Naruto’s too. His stamina, his willingness to take hits and keep pushing forward.

There was no grace to it. No real strategy. Just… drive.

And for some reason, she couldn’t look away.

Naruto grunted as he hit the ground a third time.

He rolled over, breathing hard, coughing dust from his lungs—and then sat up with a crooked grin.

“That all you got, bastard?”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. For just a second, Sakura thought she saw it—the tiniest twitch of interest in his expression.

Iruka eventually called it, before Naruto could stand again. “Match to Uchiha Sasuke.”

No one argued.

Naruto stayed on the ground, panting. Then flopped flat on his back with his arms spread wide, staring up at the sky like it owed him something.

Sasuke walked back to the group without a word.

And Sakura… watched both of them.

One too perfect. One too persistent.

[You have observed a high-speed spar.]

[Running – Skill EXP increased.]

[Taijutsu Fundamentals – EXP increased.]

[Passive skill unlocked: Combat Insight Lv. 1

The more you watch, the more you learn.

She took a slow breath, arms still folded.

Iruka didn’t waste time calling the next names.

“Kiba Inuzuka versus Nara Shikamaru. Step forward.”

A groan came instantly from the latter. “Troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered, scratching the back of his head as he slouched toward the ring.

Kiba was already bounding into place, Akamaru tucked into his hoodie, barking excitedly from the edge of his collar.

Sakura stood a few steps behind the rest of the crowd, not quite blending in, not quite apart. Her arms were folded loosely across her chest. The breeze tugged at the hem of her sleeves and made her pink hair lift just slightly, a few strands tickling her cheek. She didn’t move them.

Her eyes narrowed, not out of annoyance, but focus. The sun caught the faint shine in them, making them look a touch too sharp for someone her age.

She shifted her weight to one leg, spine straight, posture unreadable. If anyone had looked, they might’ve mistaken her for bored. But her gaze never left the sparring ring.

Not once.

Kiba cracked his knuckles, smirking. “Hope you’re ready, Shikamaru. I’ve been working on this combo with Akamaru.”

Shikamaru gave him a flat stare. “Yeah, I’m… not.”

Iruka signaled the start.

Kiba moved first—fast, low to the ground. Not quite feral, but definitely leaning into his clan’s style. Akamaru yipped and leapt off his shoulder, circling the ring.

Shikamaru didn’t even raise his hands. He just took one step back, sighed, and let his arms hang loosely at his sides. His eyes flicked to the sun's angle, then to the trees casting long shadows across the field.

Sakura caught the motion, and her brows furrowed slightly. Her head tilted.

What is he—

Kiba was already lunging. A spin-kick, followed by a clawed jab that missed Shikamaru’s shoulder by centimeters. Dust kicked up. Akamaru yapped near Shikamaru’s feet, adding pressure from below.

Still, the boy didn’t engage.

He sidestepped once. Then again. Then a third time, until—

“I forfeit,” Shikamaru said flatly, holding up a hand.

Kiba stumbled mid-swing. “Huh?! What do you mean forfeit?! I didn’t even hit you yet!”

“Exactly,” Shikamaru muttered, already walking off. “Too much work. And your dog drools.”

Akamaru barked indignantly.

There was a pause as everyone stared.

Even Iruka had to clear his throat. “...Match over. Winner: Kiba Inuzuka.”

Kiba looked like he didn’t know whether to celebrate or scream.

Sakura… exhaled slowly through her nose.

She didn’t smile. But something like the ghost of a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth before vanishing again.

Her stance shifted back to neutral, weight evenly distributed now. Her fingers twitched slightly against her bicep, like she was holding back the urge to write something down.

He analyzed the terrain. Counted the shadows. Figured out the odds. Then dipped.

That's... Sakura's eyes watched Shikamaru, her lips slightly open. A different kind of strength. 

Iruka's voice echoed across the training field.

“Next match—Haruno Sakura versus Ketsueki Ami.”

There was a pause. Then a few murmurs rippled through the students, low and sharp. A couple of Ami’s friends giggled behind their hands.

Sakura exhaled through her nose and stepped forward. Her pulse was steady—not calm, but not out of control either. A quiet readiness settled into her limbs.

She could feel her chakra thrumming faintly, coiled like a spring beneath her skin.

Ami was already in the ring, smirking. “Try not to cry this time, forehead.”

It's as if she's mocking Sakura who cried last sparring session. Who wouldn't? At that time, it hurted so much. Her cheeks were swollen for days after their match.

Sakura didn’t answer. She only stepped into position, brushing a strand of pink hair behind her ear and settling into the basic academy taijutsu stance.

The wind stirred between them. Sunlight hit the field at a clean angle, casting long shadows. The others crowded closer.

[Observe]

> Ketsueki Ami – Level 3

Title: Petty Tyrant

HP: 45/50 | Chakra: 12/18

Status: Overconfident. Slightly irritated.

A flicker of information in the corner of Sakura’s vision. Nothing she didn’t expect. Ami was always loud, always cruel in the way kids could be—especially when they thought no one would hit back.

Sakura flexed her fingers once.

[Taijutsu – Lv. 1]

[Running – Lv. 1]

The notification drifted faintly in the corner of her vision, easy to dismiss now. Her Strength wasn’t high—still just 3—but her Dexterity and Intelligence were giving her something more valuable: control.

“I want a clean match,” Iruka said, raising his hand. “Begin.”

Ami charged first.

Fast, but sloppy. A wide hook aimed at Sakura’s left shoulder.

Sakura moved without thinking. Not out of fear—but with a strange, rising clarity. Her body dipped low, legs shifting back, shoulder angling just enough—

One.

Her palm slid under the punch, grabbing Ami’s wrist with a practiced grip she didn’t remember learning. Not consciously. Her heart leapt.

She twisted. Ami stumbled.

Then a blur—Sakura’s foot snapped out, catching Ami square in the gut. The girl coughed, staggering back three steps.

Gasps rose. "Whoo! Go, Sakura-chan!" That was Naruto.

Two.

Ami hissed and rushed in again, this time sharper. She dropped low for a leg sweep, but Sakura jumped—high, clean, air rushing under her.

A gust of wind lifted her hair as she spun mid-air, using the torque to land beside her opponent rather than in front.

Green eyes wide. Her pupils dilated slightly in surprise.

Three.

Ami turned—too slow.

Sakura’s fist connected squarely with her side.

Ami grunted, knees buckling. She tried to retaliate, a desperate elbow lashing out—but Sakura ducked again, pivoted, and this time used both hands to grip Ami’s uniform and throw her over her hip in a clean, judo-style takedown.

Dust kicked up in a circle.

Ami hit the ground hard.

Silence.

Sakura stood above her, chest rising and falling. Her cheeks were pink—not with exhaustion, but something warmer.

A flush of heat across her face, a wild edge to her smile she didn’t quite understand.

Her green eyes sparkled. She didn’t even notice.

She did that.

[Taijutsu Skill Leveled Up! Taijutsu Lv. 1 → Lv. 2]

Iruka’s voice broke through the hush. “Match over. Winner: Haruno Sakura.”

Ami groaned, curled up on her side, winded and stunned.

Sakura stood still.

Her boots pressed into the dirt where Ami had landed. The fight was over, but the air between them still buzzed faintly with heat.

Ami glared up at her from the ground, cheeks blotchy, fists clenched at her sides. She looked furious. Embarrassed. Like someone who hadn’t expected to lose.

Sakura’s green eyes met hers and didn’t drop.

Her chin was tilted slightly up—barely noticeable. Not out of arrogance. It was more like she was holding her head steady, the way you do when you’re still catching your breath and don’t want to show it.

She wasn’t looking down on Ami.

She was just… done looking up to her.

That was the difference.

A flicker of blue light caught at the edge of her vision.

[Victory Achieved – Win an Academy Sparring Match]

+100 EXP

+1 Stat Point Gained

[Taijutsu Skill Progress +9%]

Before she could fully process it, something else pinged beneath it, quieter.

[New Quest Unlocked: ROUTINE]

▶ Run 1 kilometer every day (0/5 days)

▶ 20 Push-ups daily (0/5 days)

▶ Solo spar once this week (0/1)

Reward:

– 150 EXP

– Skill: [Basic Endurance Lv. 1]

– Stat Gain: +1 Strength

Her brows pulled slightly together.

A plan.

Her body still hummed, not from pride, but motion. Blood still pumping behind her ears. Her limbs loose with something more than adrenaline.

Her lips parted just slightly as she breathed in the warm air.

Ami slowly picked herself up off the dirt, brushing off her sleeves without saying anything.

Sakura didn’t move. She wasn’t waiting for an apology. Or a rematch.

She was just… thinking.

So that’s how I level up.

Chapter Text

The walk home was slow.

Not because her legs hurt—though they absolutely did—but because she wasn’t quite ready to go back to being normal yet.

The academy gates were long behind her. The sun had already begun its descent, painting the village rooftops in dull golds and long shadows.

Every now and then, someone passed her on the street—shopkeepers closing up, kids chasing balls, a tired chūnin or two—but none of them had anything floating above their heads. Just… people. Plain and quiet.

Sakura rubbed her shoulder absently. Her body was still buzzing, not with adrenaline, but soreness. Ten laps, kunai drills, a spar, and whatever the hell she did when she dodged Ami’s kick like she’d been born doing it.

One. Two. Three. The movements replayed in her mind over and over again, like a muscle memory she hadn’t earned.

Her lips curved into the smallest smile.

Even now, she could still feel the satisfying crack of her knuckles against Ami’s guard. The ache in her muscles told her it had been real. But the glowing system windows, the quests, the skill names—it's something else entirely. 

She’d been handed a cheat code.

Like the kekkei genkai's from clans, clan jutsus that civilian-born shinobis can't have.

By the time she reached her front gate, the sun had dipped low enough to cast the Haruno household in a warm orange light. A breeze swept through the quiet street, rustling the hedges that lined their fence.

Sakura opened the door slowly, expecting the usual silence.

Instead—

“Oh! There she is,” her mother’s voice called from the kitchen. “I was about to go drag you home myself.”

[Mebuki Haruno] Level: 12

Title: Household Commander

“I’m home,” she said, pulling off her shoes.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” her mother added brightly.

Right. Dinner.

Sakura hadn’t expected to eat with her parents tonight. Honestly, she rarely did anymore. Between early study routines, half-hearted meal skips, and the vague, unspoken "diet" all girls were expected to maintain—especially if you had a crush like him—she’d made a habit of disappearing into her room with a cup of tea or a rice cracker.

But today…

Her stomach growled.

Loudly.

She winced, hoping no one heard—but her dad poked his head out from the hallway.

"Sounds like a rough day at the academy, huh?" he said with a grin. "Come on, we’ve got stir-fry."

She blinked at him as if she's thinking whether to eat or not.

“Wash up, Sakura!” her mom called.

Dinner was… strange.

Strange in the way that made her stomach tense, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. But it didn’t.

The table was already set. Her mother had cooked too much as usual. Stir-fried vegetables, rice, grilled tofu, and even a small bowl of miso soup.

It was simple food, but warm. Comforting.

Sakura sat quietly, chewing slowly, her body relaxing without permission.

Her mother talked about the neighbor's cat. Her father mentioned something about a plumbing issue at work. They weren’t particularly interesting topics, but they were… normal.

Familiar.

Civilian talks.

She didn’t say much.

Mostly just listened. Ate.

Halfway through the meal, her father paused, glancing at her over his bowl. “So. How was school?”

[Kizashi Haruno] Level: 14

Title: Unlicensed Philosopher

Sakura blinked. It was such a basic question. One that she was used to brushing off.

But for once, she didn’t want to lie.

“We sparred today,” she said simply. “I won.”

Her mother paused, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. “You did?”

“Mm.”

“That’s great, sweetie!” her dad said, eyes on her as if assessing her. “Didn’t think you were the fighting type.”

“I'm not,” she replied, picking at her rice. “But maybe I am now.”

That made them go quiet for a moment—not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. Her mother offered a small smile. “You’ve always been strong in your own way.”

Sakura didn’t answer. But her chest felt a little tight.

After the dishes were cleared, she went to her room.

Not to collapse into bed, though she could’ve. Her arms were like noodles and her legs were threatening mutiny. But she sat at her desk, notebook open, pen in hand.

She flipped past her usual notes—school things, memorized hand seals, diagrams—and turned to a fresh page.

LEVEL UP PLAN – PHASE 2

– Maintain training quest routine

– Use new stat point strategically

– Learn how skill growth works

– Check inventory again

– Try meditation scroll

She tapped the pen against her lip, eyes narrowing in thought.

That [Basic Endurance] skill would help. Especially if she was going to run and spar every day. But what about the other stats?

She pulled up her [Status].

Name: Sakura Haruno

Level: 2

Class: Academy Student

HP: 50/50

Chakra: 16/22

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 5

Intelligence: 9

Wisdom: 6

Luck: 2

Unused Stat Points: 1

Her finger hovered over the Strength line. Just 3.

She could feel it during sparring. Her body moved better now, but the hits weren’t solid. Not like Sasuke’s. Not like real shinobi.

She sighed.

"One point," she muttered. "One stat. One small change."

But it added up, didn’t it?

Observe leveled up after a couple of pebble. Her first spar gave her a quest. What would ten days of training give her?

No. Years.

Her lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line.

She inhaled.

Then exhaled.

And again.

She sat in silence, her posture straightening with each breath. Her shoulders dropped slightly. Her hands, resting palm-up on her knees, stopped twitching.

She allowed herself to feel her weight on the mattress. The quiet hum of her chakra beneath her skin. The distant sounds of the village that had once distracted her… now began to melt into the background.

Time didn’t stop, but it slowed.

For the first time, she wasn't thinking of Sasuke-kun. Or Ino-pig. Or Mizuki-sensei’s strange [Traitor] title that still echoed in the back of her mind.

She was just… breathing.

A new notification flickered faintly in the corner of her vision.

[Skill Meditation has leveled up! Meditation Lv. 1 → Lv. 2]

[+1 Chakra Regeneration/Hour]

[Minor Chakra Clarity Bonus: 1%]

Her green eyes opened slowly.

That fast?

She slid off the bed, barefoot on the wooden floor.

Push-ups.

She positioned herself on the floor beside her bed, arms slightly trembling already from the day’s spar. She stretched her fingers across the floorboards and took a breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her elbows burned by six. Her arms ached by eight.

By ten, her breath was coming faster, the soft sound echoing in her quiet room. Her body wobbled.

She kept going.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

No crying, no whining. Just her muscles, her will, and her quiet, focused fury at being weak.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

She collapsed, cheek pressing to the cool floor, breath hitching in her throat.

[Skill Unlocked: Basic Conditioning Lv. 1]

Your physical body is catching up.

Small increase to endurance when used consistently

Synergizes with stat Strength

[Quest Progress: “Daily Training – Pushups” (1/1)]

[+10 EXP]

Sakura blinked, staring at the glowing panels above her head from the floor.

She grinned—flushed, sweaty, and breathless.

“Alright,” she muttered. “Now this… this I can do.”

Her arms ached. Her eyes drooped.

But there was no hesitation as she crawled into bed, dragging the covers up and sinking into the pillow like a girl who had just fought a war and survived.

The system was still new. Still strange. But it had rules.

And rules could be bent. Exploited.

Tomorrow, she’d run early. Observe more. Track everything.

But for now, she slept.

Sakura didn’t bolt upright in bed.

Sakura opened her green eyes. No sluggish blinking. No dramatic groaning.

She was simply awake.

Her gaze rested on the smooth wooden ceiling above her, the familiar slant of her bedroom window casting morning light across the floor. She lay there for a second, not moving—just thinking.

There was no soreness. No aching limbs from yesterday’s laps. Her legs felt… normal. Lighter.

Her brows furrowed faintly.

She sat up, slow and deliberate, checking herself. Stretching each leg, rolling her shoulders.

Nothing. No stiffness. No pain.

[You are well-rested. Temporary status: +5% EXP gain for 2 hours.]

[Condition Cleared: Fatigue.]

Sakura stared at the translucent box in front of her.

“…Huh.”

[Daily Quest: “Run Every Day” – Not Yet Started.]

So recovery was automatic? It didn’t make sense. Not physically, anyway. She should’ve been stiff, sore, dragging herself to the sink with burning calves.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

She didn’t wobble. She didn’t limp.

She straightened her spine and breathed in through her nose. The air felt… crisp. Clean. Like hitting a soft checkpoint.

"Right," she murmured, pressing her fingers together with absent-minded focus. "So that’s how it works."

Progress, fatigue, and recovery—wrapped in a neat, efficient loop. A reward cycle.

The air was crisp outside, still quiet. Only a few early-rising vendors were beginning to open their stalls. Birds chirped overhead. The streets of Konoha felt like they always had—safe, familiar, peaceful.

Sakura jogged at a light pace, her pink hair swaying in rhythm with her steps, breath steady.

She wasn’t fast. Not yet. But the movement came easier than before.

She passed the same stone wall near the market.

[Observe.]

[Pebble]

Ordinary rock. Unremarkable. Has rolled a few inches from its original spot. Seems pleased about it.

She snorted. “Glad one of us is making progress.”

By the time she rounded the corner near the civilian district, she slowed to a walk, pulling her ponytail tighter.

And that’s when she saw him.

Mizuki-sensei.

Standing outside a small shop—one of the more discreet ones that sold scrolls and smoke bombs—talking to the shopkeeper with his arms crossed. His posture was casual. Relaxed. Nothing strange.

He even smiled.

But Sakura froze.

Her green eyes narrowed as the system responded to her thoughts.

[Observe.]

Mizuki – Level ??

Title: Traitor

Status: Hidden Intent / Smiling

Warning: Trust not advised.

She swallowed.

Her breath hitched.

Her system didn’t shout. Didn’t blare alarms or send dramatic music into her ears like some fantasy manga.

It just… stated the facts again.

Traitor.

Hidden Intent.

Warning.

Mizuki’s face turned slightly—just enough to scratch the back of his head—and for a moment, she thought he saw her. Her feet instinctively took a step back.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t wave. Didn’t call out "Sakura-chan!"

Just went back to his conversation and laughed again.

Sakura’s heart was hammering, but her face didn’t show it. She wiped at her forehead with the back of her wrist and turned down another path, pretending to stretch.

Once out of sight, she finally let her breath out.

So. She wasn’t crazy.

The system wasn’t making things up.

And Mizuki-sensei?

He's hiding something.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

She had no idea what he was planning. But now—now she knew not to trust the warm voice and friendly lectures. The man who handed out exam papers and sparring assignments wasn't who he pretended to be.

The rhythm of her feet on the pavement was a steady beat now, a quiet thud-thud-thud that filled the silence of Konoha’s early morning streets.

Sakura’s breath came in even pulls, her ponytail swinging gently behind her as she passed the familiar turn near the academy training field.

She didn’t stop.

Her legs burned faintly, her lungs tightening just enough to remind her that she was pushing past her usual limit—but still, she kept going.

The system rewarded consistency. She knew that now.

She rounded a corner and heard a sharp yell echo from the field below.

“GAI-SENSEI! I’LL DO FIVE HUNDRED LUNGES IF IT MEANS I CAN DEFEAT NEJI!”

What the...

“LEE! THE FIRE OF YOUTH BURNS BRIGHTLY WITHIN YOU! YOU SHALL BLOOM LIKE THE LOTUS IN SPRING!”

Sakura didn’t slow down.

She didn’t even glance toward the source of the commotion—though her mind filed away the names absently.

Loud. Dramatic. Not her problem.

She pressed forward along the stone path, passing the irrigation canal, then the wooden railing that marked the edge of the outer field.

Her mind returned to the soundless ding that had popped up earlier.

[Quest Complete – Daily Training]

Objective: Run 2km

Reward: +1 Dexterity, +50 EXP, +1 Stamina Recovery Rate (Passive)

She had to stop herself from grinning.

The reward wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t a new skill or glowing weapon. 

Her muscles had burned, her legs ached faintly, but now… she could feel the shift.

Lighter.

Faster.

Her feet weren’t dragging. They moved with more precision. More control.

She glanced briefly at her system.

Sakura Haruno – Level 2

HP: 50/50

Chakra: 22/22

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 6 (+1)

Intelligence: 9

Wisdom: 6

Luck: 2

A day ago, she would’ve called this impossible. A day ago, she wouldn’t have run at all.

She would’ve studied. She would’ve read. She would’ve waited.

But now?

Now she was moving. Changing. Becoming something more.

She slowed only once she reached the narrow slope behind the academy, a quiet incline tucked between two rows of trees. A good place to cool down.

Sakura crouched low, palms on her knees, letting herself breathe—slow and deep. Not panting. Not gasping. Just steady air in, steady air out.

“You’ve completed today’s daily objective,” the system chimed gently. “Consistency is rewarded.”

[New Quest Unlocked – Daily Physical Conditioning]

Objective:

– Run 2km ✅

– 30 Push-Ups

– 30 Sit-Ups

– 15 Minutes Meditation

Reward: +50 EXP, Chance to Unlock New Skill

She straightened with a quiet breath.

“Of course it added more,” she muttered, brushing a few strands of pink hair behind her ear.

Still… she wasn’t annoyed.

She looked down at her hands—soft, pale, clean. She’d never been the roughest or strongest. Not like some of the other girls.

Not like Ami, who always seemed to move like she already knew she’d win. Or like Ino, with her confidence like armor.

But now Sakura had something none of them did.

A secret weapon.

And it was training her the way no teacher ever had.

“Let’s just get it over with,” she said aloud, settling into position on the dirt path.

Push-ups first.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her arms trembled slightly, but the motion was clean. She was getting used to it. She could feel the muscles in her shoulders working, tightening, adjusting to the strain.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

She stopped only once she hit thirty, breathing evenly as she sat back on her heels.

She felt… good.

Not heroic. Not amazing. But capable.

That was enough.

She moved straight into sit-ups, curling her torso up in clean motions, counting under her breath as she worked.

The loud yells from earlier had faded to a distant echo. Somewhere nearby, birds chirped lazily in the trees. The sun had risen high enough to cast golden beams through the leaves, flickering over the path like scattered coins.

“Twenty-nine… thirty.”

She dropped back onto the grass, breathing hard.

And then she sat up again—this time just to sit properly.

Meditation.

A scroll that she could learn once touched by her. Skills she could have.

She closed her eyes, letting her thoughts settle.

At first, her mind itched. Kept drifting.

Back to Mizuki.

Back to the spar with Ami.

Back to the strange, sharp satisfaction that came with her first real win.

But slowly… things faded.

The world dulled.

Her breath was the only sound.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Then—

[Skill Leveled Up! Meditation Lv. 2 → Lv. 3]

Chakra Recovery Increased Slightly During Rest

Resistance to Mental Interference +1%

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking at the light.

Meditation wasn’t glamorous. It didn’t feel like a power move. It was just... closing her eyes and sensing.

Sakura stood again, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

The system had changed everything for her.

She’d could get faster. Stronger. Smarter.

She’d catch up to Sasuke-kun. No.

She’d understand what Mizuki was hiding.

One step at a time.

And as she turned back toward the village, that familiar voice echoed faintly across the wind again—

“LEE! WE SHALL RUN TO THE EDGE OF THE VILLAGE AND BACK—ON OUR HANDS!”

“YES, GAI-SENSEI!”

Sakura closed her eyes and muttered, “Thank god Naruto and Kiba aren't as loud as them.”

She jogged off, quietly grinning.

By the time Sakura reached the main road again, the sun had finally pulled itself over the rooftops. Warm light spilled across the stone paths and rooftops, tinting the tiles gold and blinding her slightly as she crested the hill.

She blinked against it, lifting a hand to shield her eyes.

The quiet hum of Konoha waking up surrounded her now. Market stalls clattered open. An old woman swept her porch across the street, and two genin—still yawning—trotted past her with tired eyes and weapons slung across their backs.

Sakura didn’t stop to greet them.

She turned onto the path leading home, her strides slower now but steady. Her legs were tired, but it wasn’t the dragging soreness of overexertion. It was… deeper. Like her body was rebuilding itself, adjusting. It was a tiredness that meant progress.

[Condition: Well Rested]

HP and Chakra recovered. Minor fatigue resistance active.

“Still can’t believe that’s real,” she murmured under her breath.

Her house came into view—tucked between a tailor’s shop and a flower vendor that hadn’t opened yet. The second-floor windows still glowed faintly with indoor light. Her mother must’ve woken up early again.

Sakura slipped quietly through the gate and stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

“Welcome back!” came her mother’s voice from the kitchen.

Sakura blinked. She wasn’t used to that.

Normally, she wouldn’t be up this early. Normally, she'd sleep in until just before the academy bell, skip breakfast in favor of getting her hair just right, and mumble something about not being hungry if her mom asked.

But this morning…

“I ran,” she said, setting her sandals by the door. “Training. Early.”

Her mother peeked her head out from the kitchen, eyebrows raised. “Ran? Since when do you run?”

“Since today,” Sakura said plainly. She shrugged, brushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes. “I felt like it.”

“Well, look at you,” her mom said with a warm chuckle. “Go shower before you drip sweat on the floor. I made breakfast.”

Sakura blinked again. Her mom was making breakfast? For her?

Right. Because she was actually here for breakfast.

She made her way upstairs, her feet quiet on the wooden steps, the faint ache in her calves reminding her with every motion that this was real. This wasn’t a dream or an idle fantasy.

Her muscles were sore. Her system had leveled up. She was stronger than she was yesterday.

And for once… she really felt stronger.

She paused in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her reflection. Her pink hair was a mess, her cheeks flushed, and her skin lightly damp with sweat—but her green eyes were bright. Sharper. Despite that, she looks...

“Better,” she whispered to her reflection.

Then she turned on the shower.

The water was hot. Clean. It sluiced down her back and arms and across her tired legs, washing away the morning dust and the faint grassy smell of the field.

Her muscles relaxed under the steam, and she let herself lean against the tile for a moment, breathing it in.

This felt good. Real. Earned.

She washed quickly, stepping out with a towel around her hair and a change of clothes already in mind—nothing fancy, just her usual red top and shorts, but clean. Sharp. Ready.

Downstairs, her mom had already set the table.

Rice, miso soup, a piece of grilled fish, and tamagoyaki cut into careful pieces. It looked… like the kind of breakfast she used to ignore.

But now?

Sakura sat down without needing to be asked, murmured a soft “thanks,” and picked up her chopsticks.

Each bite was warm. Comforting. It sat differently in her stomach now—earned instead of skipped. She could practically feel her body absorbing it like fuel.

Her father glanced up from his cup of tea. “You’re up early.”

“She went running,” her mother supplied, smiling faintly. “Training.”

Her father raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Just nodded. “Keep it up.”

That was it. No lecture. No teasing.

Just a nod.

And somehow… it meant everything.

Sakura ate the last bite of tamagoyaki, then sipped her soup quietly. The sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting soft light across the wooden floor and the small family table.

She glanced to the side, pulling up her system window just under her vision.

[Condition: Fed and Focused]

Small stamina recovery over time

Mental clarity +5% during tasks

Not bad.

She smiled into her cup.

Not bad at all.

Chapter Text

The air was still crisp when Sakura stepped outside, her school bag slung over one shoulder and her bento tucked snugly into her new [Inventory]. A quiet satisfaction sat behind her eyes as she walked, unhurried and alert. Her strides weren’t fast, but they were steady—each step falling with a little more purpose than yesterday.

Her muscles ached faintly, but not painfully. It was the kind of soreness that came from doing something right. Her calves twinged slightly from the morning run, but they no longer protested.

Her stamina pool, she noticed, wasn’t dipping as quickly either.

A week ago, she wouldn’t have noticed the difference. A week ago, she wouldn’t have been looking.

She passed the training field and caught a glimpse of it in the corner of her eye—chalk lines still fading from yesterday’s spars, the faint scuff marks of old shoes and thrown bodies embedded into the dirt.

Her pace slowed for a breath, just enough to glance at the space where she’d fought Ami.

Her fingers twitched slightly.

Then she kept walking.

Konoha’s streets had started to fill now, more shinobi hurrying past in their flak vests and forehead protectors, a few chunin ushering younger siblings to school with exaggerated sighs.

She slipped among them like a ghost—just another student with a bag and a face and thoughts too big for her small frame.

The academy gates loomed ahead.

She stepped in.

Classroom 3-A buzzed with energy. Chairs scraped, voices bounced off the walls, and the faint smell of chalk dust mixed with sweat and ink.

Naruto was already yelling at someone across the room—probably Kiba. Shikamaru had draped himself over a desk with his eyes barely open.

Ino and her squad were clustered near the window, brushing each other’s hair and pretending not to look at Sasuke’s back.

Sakura’s seat waited for her—second row, third desk from the left. Not close enough to the front to seem overeager. Not so far back to be labeled a slacker.

She slipped into it, adjusting her skirt and setting her notebook down with quiet precision.

Then she looked up.

Iruka-sensei stood at the front, a stack of papers in his hands, his brow furrowed in mild irritation.

“Mizuki's running late again,” he said under his breath, but Sakura’s ears caught it anyway.

She tilted her head slightly.

[Observe]

Her eyes flickered, data blooming in faint lines across her vision.

Name: Iruka Umino Level: ???

Title: Teacher of The Year – Loyal Shinobi

Status: Focused, Slightly Annoyed

Nothing new here. He always hovered around Level ??? Whatever that meant probably means that Sakura has to level up more to see it.

Probably.

Solid. Dependable. His “Teacher of The Year” title hadn’t changed either. Still safe.

Still not like Mizuki which meant Mizuki isn't exactly recruiting people for whatever traitorous plans he has.

Iruka cleared his throat. “All right, class. Settle down.”

The classroom hummed with restless energy. Sunlight filtered through the windows, painting soft rectangles over worn wooden desks and half-hearted doodles.

Sakura sat with her hands folded neatly atop her notebook, her posture straight but relaxed. She kept her expression neutral, but her eyes were sharp, focused on Iruka-sensei as he stepped in front of the chalkboard.

The voices dipped slowly, trailing off as students turned to face the front. Naruto kept bouncing in his seat. Sasuke didn’t move. Shino didn’t blink.

Iruka tapped the stack of papers once. “I hope you’ve all been taking your training seriously. The Genin Exams are only a few weeks away. That means chakra control, taijutsu, throwing accuracy, and the clone technique need to be second nature by then.”

Sakura’s spine straightened just a little more.

Around her, some students groaned. Kiba let out a dramatic sigh. Choji offered him a chip without looking. Ino perked up a little—she was always sharper when the word “exam” was mentioned.

Sakura didn’t groan. She didn’t perk. She just listened.

A breeze drifted through the open window, lifting the ends of her pink hair and making her eyes squint slightly as they adjusted to the light. Her fingers curled lightly around her pen, though she wasn’t writing anything down yet.

She just… absorbed.

Her expression didn’t change much—but her eyes did. Green, clear, and sharp with a quiet tension just under the surface. Her jaw was soft, but her mouth was set. Her lashes twitched once, then settled.

She stared straight at Iruka as if the rest of the classroom had faded away.

Exam.

It felt different now. Like the word had weight. Like it mattered.

Not because she wanted to look good for Sasuke-kun. Not even because she wanted to beat Ino.

But because there was something real inside her that was beginning to want more.

She thought of her stats.

She thought of her fists colliding with Ami’s during their spar.

She thought of the system whispering softly in the corners of her vision, offering quests and counting each victory, no matter how small.

She thought of Mizuki’s status.

Traitor.

Sakura blinked once, long and slow, then finally wrote something down in her notebook. It wasn’t a word or a jutsu.

6.

She circled it once. Then underlined it.

She didn’t write anything else. Didn’t explain it.

But she knew what it meant.

Level 6.

That was the bare minimum.

She glanced sideways at Naruto, who was still being scolded for yelling loudly at class. Kiba was laughing too hard to breathe. Even Shikamaru was quietly listening.

Then her eyes moved to Sasuke.

“Most of you have been improving,” Iruka continued, his voice more encouraging now. “Keep up the momentum. Don’t coast. You’ll regret it come testing day.”

Sakura’s pen twitched.

[Quest Updated: Genin Exam Preparation]

Objectives:

– Practice Clone Technique 0/10

– Chakra Control Training 0/5

– Win a Sparring Match 0/1

– Increase any stat by 1 point

Reward: 250 EXP, +1 Stat Point, Skill Scroll (Intermediate Clone)

She exhaled through her nose, quietly. Not a smile—but something close.

Not enough for anyone to notice, but enough for her to feel it.

Intermediate Clone?

Her lips parted just a little, a breath catching at the back of her throat. Not just another copy-paste scroll like the ones they handed out in chakra basics. This wasn’t some recycled academy-level trick.

Intermediate meant depth. Meant layers. Meant she’d be able to do more than a flimsy, flickering illusion that broke under a breeze.

“Later today,” Iruka said, setting the papers down, “we’ll be rotating between chakra control basics and accuracy tests. No sparring today—your instructors need to track your progress, not injuries.”

Several groans.

“Especially you, Naruto,” Iruka added, without looking up.

“Hey! I only sometimes start those fights!”

Sakura didn’t laugh. But her lips tugged up.

Iruka clapped his hands once. “Alright, that’s enough for now. We’ll start the written portion shortly. In the meantime, review your clone technique scrolls if you have them. Mizuki-sensei should be joining us in—”

The door creaked open.

Sakura didn’t move her head. But her eyes—her system—flicked automatically.

[Observe]

Her stomach turned.

Name: Mizuki

Level: ???

Title: Academy Instructor – Untrustworthy

Status: Calm. Masked Intent.

Her fingers stilled.

Mizuki smiled as he entered, murmuring an apology for being late.

Sakura’s gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer.

And then she lowered her pen, eyes cool and thoughtful as Mizuki took his place near the board.

The system doesn't lie.

Iruka continued, "We’ll also be practicing Clone Technique first today. Remember, it’s not about power. It’s about precision and balance. If you can’t split your chakra evenly, the clone will flicker or look distorted."

He raised his hand and in a puff of smoke, created two perfect copies of himself. "This is the standard. Watch closely."

Sakura watched the demonstration intently, her eyes flicking between the clones. Identical. Stable. No distortion at the edges, no flickering. She committed it to memory.

"Outside. We’re taking it to the field."

The sparring field was bathed in golden morning light. Grass still damp with dew clung to sandals and hems. Students spread out in small groups. Some were chatting, others already trying their hand at clone formation.

Puffs of smoke littered the field, some leaving behind warped limbs or headless clones. Others just fizzled. "THIS IS SO ANNOYING, 'TTEBAYO!"

Sakura stood near the edge, a safe distance from the more chaotic attempts. She exhaled slowly, bringing her hands together.

Clone Technique.

A familiar warmth surged through her. Chakra flowed, unstable, resisting direction. She forced it down. Concentrated. Visualized.

Poof.

The smoke cleared.

A clone appeared. Its features were... nearly right. But its legs were stubby, and the face slackened into a slightly droopy smile before it popped like a bubble.

She narrowed her eyes.

[Clone Technique 1/10]

[Observe Activated.]

[Basic Clone – Chakra Construct]

An unstable clone created through the Clone Technique.

Appearance: 78% accurate

Chakra Form: Weak

Duration: 2.8 seconds

Status: Failed formation – dissipated before stabilization

Potential: Increases with Chakra Control and Repetition

Sakura stared at the empty patch of ground where the clone had been just seconds ago, brows furrowed. The chakra had held longer than usual—almost three seconds this time—but the proportions were still off, and the facial expression looked like it had melted off a wax figure.

She exhaled through her nose and shook out her fingers.

So close but I figured, she thought dryly, brushing some ash off her skirt.

She rolled her shoulders back. Again.

Poof.

Clone.

It wobbled, then held.

Poof.

Another. Half-formed. Vanished.

Poof.

Three in total. All unstable.

[Clone Technique 4/10]

Sakura’s brow furrowed. She shifted her weight, feeling the pull of chakra drain from her chest down her arms. Her breathing was still steady, but the tug in her core grew heavier.

Balance.

She exhaled.

Five. Six. Seven.

Each one grew a little cleaner. The legs straightened. The faces sharpened. By the eighth try, she held the clone longer than three full seconds.

[Clone Technique 8/10]

A bead of sweat slid down her temple. She ignored it.

Number nine cracked like glass within moments. But number ten—number ten stood there.

Not perfect. Not Iruka-level. But close.

[Clone Technique 10/10 – Objective Complete]

Good.

She let herself breathe, sitting on her heels for a moment before pushing herself back to standing. Her arms ached slightly, not from strain, but from subtle chakra fatigue. She could still push through it.

Iruka walked by, nodding at her progress. His hitai-ate glinted from the light above, his scar in nose wrinkling as he smiles at her. "Looking better, Sakura. Don’t stop here. Practice until it’s instinct."

She dipped her head respectfully. "Yes, Iruka-sensei."

Her bangs clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, while the rest of her pink hair was pulled back in a low, practical tie that had loosened from exertion. Strands stuck out messily near her ears, frizzed from movement and the lingering humidity.

Her green eyes, usually bright and sharp, now shimmered with a focused, almost glassy look—half fatigue, half concentration.

The scent of scorched earth, stirred dust, and faint metallic tang from kunai filled her nose. Her skin felt sticky under the afternoon sun, the fabric of her uniform clinging to her back in places.

Yet despite the discomfort, she stood firm. Her fingers twitched with leftover chakra buzz, a soft tingle that pulsed through her arms with each breath.

Every sense was alert: the distant slap of sandals against training dirt, the rhythmic thunk of kunai hitting targets, and Iruka’s voice calling out pointers—all of it sharpened, clearer somehow. Her shoulders ached, her throat was dry, but her lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, but not far from it.

"Again," she whispered to herself, forming the seal. "Again until it’s second nature."

The clone appeared beside her—still a little wobbly, still translucent at the edges, but it held longer than before.

[Academy Clone Technique Leveled Up! Lv. 1 → Lv. 2]

[Chakra: 10/22]

She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist, stealing a glance at the sky. A few clouds drifted lazily past the sun, casting occasional shadows over the field.

She wasn’t done yet.

"Again."

[Skill Level Up! Clone Technique Lv 2 → Lv. 3]

[Skill Effect Updated: Clone appearance is slightly more stable and holds for 5 seconds longer.]

[Chakra: 7/22]

The three copies around her flickered faintly, but they stood firmer than before. She could feel the chakra threading more evenly through her system, the technique no longer slipping as easily from her control.

She inhaled again, preparing for another round—

"Alright everyone!" Iruka's voice called out, and Sakura paused mid-hand sign. "Take a break for now. Regroup in five minutes."

There was a beat of rustling clothes, clattering weapons, and tired chatter as the class began to assemble.

Iruka stepped to the front of the gathered students, his clipboard in hand. "Good work so far. The Genin Exam is just around the corner. From today onward, we’re ramping up your physical and jutsu training. That means focus. That means discipline. That means using your time wisely. Got it?"

"Yes, Iruka-sensei!" the class chorused.

She exhaled slowly, calming the buzz in her head.

"From now, we’ll be splitting into two groups," Iruka continued. "I’ll take Group A. Mizuki-sensei will take Group B. Group B, that’s Naruto, Shikamaru, Shino…Sakura… Ami, Sora, Daiki… follow Mizuki-sensei."

Sakura’s stomach tensed.

She glanced at Iruka’s status one last time—normal. Reliable. Trusted.

Then her eyes shifted, almost unwillingly, toward Mizuki.

[Mizuki – Level ???] [Title: Traitor – ?]

Still wrong.

She moved when the group began to shift. Shikamaru yawned beside her as they walked, hands in pockets, eyes half-lidded. Naruto grumbled something about being separated from Sasuke. Shino was quiet. A few civilian-born students trudged after them, some nervous, some just bored.

Mizuki was smiling.

Her group was led to the edge of the field, closer to the trees. The shade provided some relief from the strengthening sun, though the air was still thick with heat and the faint tang of sweat.

Sakura stood with her hands behind her back, quietly glancing at the classmates around her.

Naruto fidgeted next to her, obviously bored already. Shikamaru yawned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Shino, unreadable as ever, merely stood still with his collar high and shades perfectly in place. 

The few other civilian-born students like herself hovered nearby, exchanging uncertain glances.

Mizuki stood before them, posture straight and easy, the edge of his smile tight with something too sharp to be friendly. His headband glinted under the sun, but it was his eyes Sakura kept glancing at—the same ones she'd Observed not long ago, the same red flag warning that still rang inside her head like a faint bell.

"Alright, you lot," Mizuki said, voice loud but not harsh. "We're splitting into pairs. Basic drills. Taijutsu, weapon stance correction, and a bit of clone reinforcement for those who struggled earlier. Simple stuff, but repetition builds instinct. And instinct separates Genin from failures."

Sakura's eyes narrows at his words and her hands curled slightly. That last word. A failure. She wasn't about to be that. Not now.

Not when she had a system practically feeding her the path forward.

As Mizuki walked among them, pairing students, Sakura felt her thoughts drift again—there's something inside her that's slowly growing. Quite frankly—she thinks really different now.

[Chakra: 8/22 → 10/22]

She’d used [Observe] so many times earlier, despite the strain, that her skill had nudged forward again before she even noticed. She swallowed the faint ache in her gut, the dull echo of drained chakra that tugged at the edges of her ribs.

Not pain, exactly, but a warning.

She filed it away. Important.

Mizuki stopped in front of her.

"Haruno. You’ll be with—"

A pause. His eyes flicked sideways.

"Shino."

Shino gave a barely-there nod and stepped to the side, closer. Sakura mimicked him. She didn’t let her face fall, though the dread of sparring with someone unreadable like him prickled along her arms.

"Start with taijutsu pattern drills," Mizuki said, walking off again. "Form over force. I’ll be watching."

The moment he was out of earshot, Naruto muttered, "Tch. Lucky. I got paired with Shikamaru and he’s probably gonna fall asleep again."

"You don’t even know the pattern drills," Shikamaru retorted flatly.

Sakura tuned them out. She turned to face Shino and raised her arms, dropping into the stance Iruka had drilled into them months ago. Her breath steadied. Her gaze focused.

Opposite her, Shino adjusted his glasses with one finger and gave a shallow nod.

They both bowed.

Then moved.

They began.

It wasn’t a real spar yet—just flowing through practiced forms. Palm thrusts. Elbow jabs. A smooth sweep of the leg. Block, dodge, reset. Over and over.

She kept her eyes locked on Shino’s center of mass. He moved economically, like every step was measured, precise. There were no tells in his body language, no waste.

Sakura didn’t try to match him. Instead, she focused inward.

One...

Two...

Three.

Her feet remembered the pivot. Her arms blocked automatically. Muscle memory. Her body still hummed faintly from chakra drills, from the weight of throwing practice, from the thousand small adjustments she'd made to her stance all day.

Shino didn’t waste energy.

His movement was economical, precise—conservative in a way that made him feel older than he was. Like he was already a chūnin just quietly doing the job.

Sakura stepped in first, hands raised. Taijutsu stance stable, just like she'd drilled. She’d improved. She could feel it in the way her heels aligned with her hips, how her arms didn’t tremble under pressure like before.

He parried her first strike with no fanfare.

She spun and kicked. He blocked.

Another strike. Blocked again.

She reset, circling. Her eyes flicked to his hands, then to his shoulders. His face gave away nothing.

He stepped in—closer than she expected—and tapped her wrist with two fingers. A simple deflection. But it knocked her balance off just enough for her foot to slide awkwardly in the dust.

She caught herself. But barely.

“Careful,” he said simply.

She gritted her teeth.

They moved again. Her body followed the pattern she’d memorized—the new rhythm she’d been training into herself. One-two-step. Duck. Pivot. Elbow out.

Shino evaded with only a minor shift of weight.

She attacked again, faster this time.

And that’s when it happened.

Her palm nearly grazed his shoulder, and for a split second, her eyes widened. She was close. Her muscles thrummed in surprise, a jolt of heat rising in her chest.

One…

Two…

Three.

But he dropped his center of gravity low and swept her back foot.

She hit the ground with a light thud, wind puffing from her lungs. Not hard—he wasn’t trying to hurt her—but it was enough.

"Careful with Sakura-chan, Shino-kun." Mizuki-sensei called out from where he stood, giving them a close-eyed smile.

Sakura stared at the blue sky overhead, blinking.

Her back stung a little, more from frustration than pain.

Shino offered his hand.

She hesitated only half a second before taking it, her palm damp with sweat against his. Her pink hair clung to her temples and the nape of her neck in damp strands, the low ponytail fraying from all the motion. A bead of sweat slid down her jaw, catching against the flush already warming her cheeks and ears.

Her green eyes flicked up—just briefly—to Shino’s shaded expression, unreadable as always behind the gleam of his glasses. But there was no smugness. No disdain.

Just a steady, silent sort of acknowledgement.

She let him pull her to her feet.

Her breath was shallow, but not labored. Her fingers tingled faintly. Her knees ached a little, but not in the same helpless way they had just a week ago.

Back on her feet, Sakura dusted off her skirt and gave a small, tight smile. “You’re quick.”

He blinked slowly behind his glasses. “...you’re improving.”

Then he walked off, as if nothing had happened.

Sakura remained where she stood a moment longer.

She rolled her shoulder, flexed her wrist. Her breath was even. Her limbs responsive.

It wasn’t a bad loss.

In fact… it didn’t feel like a loss at all.

Just another line on the experience bar.

She could almost feel the system ticking quietly in the background.

[Taijutsu - Basic Lv. 2 → 3]

She exhaled through her nose.

Not bad at all.

[Taijutsu: Lv. 3 → Lv 4]

[Chakra Control Training: 0/5]

[Objective Update: Stat increased – Dexterity +1]

[Dexterity: 5 → 6]

[Mission Progress: 2/4 Objectives Completed]

She nearly faltered mid-step. Her heart thudded in her chest.

She was almost done.

Just the spar. One fight. One real win.

Then meditation later and every night from now.

And then… Intermediate Clone.

She reset her posture and nodded at Shino. He returned it without a word, stepping back and signaling the end of the drill.

The class slowly shifted into rotation. Mizuki called out different pairings, supervising from the edge like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Sakura’s skin prickled every time he passed too close.

Eventually, Iruka and his group returned, joining them again. His expression was open, encouraging.

"Keep it up, Sakura-chan." he said as he passed Sakura, nodding to her. "Your stance were more solid today. That’s improvement."

He was watching?

Sakura flushed at the praise for the second time, bowing her head with a soft, "Yes, Iruka-sensei."

She felt the sweat stick her bangs to her forehead, the faint sting of sun in her eyes. Her arms trembled faintly from repetition, but her legs were strong.

Her back was straight. Her hands? Steady.

Her pink hair, tied into a low tail today, stuck to the back of her neck in damp strands. She smelled faintly of dust and skin-salt, but it didn’t bother her. 

She has the system.

The system had turned the world into a puzzle for her. And she was starting to barely learn the edges.

As the afternoon sun shifted toward late noon, Iruka announced the break.

"Ten minutes. Hydrate. Then we move on to practice throwing."

Sakura jogged to the edge of the trees, wiping sweat from her face with a small towel. She took a long sip from her water flask, her pulse slowing gradually.

Naruto flopped down next to her, breathing hard.

"Man, you’ve been on fire today, Sakura-chan," he said with a grin. More baffled than anything.

"Thanks," she said simply, not looking at him.

He blinked. She was usually sharper with her replies when he talks to her. Normally and usually, she'd also be glaring at her when he goes to her.

Ten minutes passed quickly. Iruka clapped his hands.

The students gathered again near the worn-down wooden stands, where rows of faded targets had been set up for throwing practice. The sun was steadily lowering in the sky now, casting golden light across the dirt training field and glittering slightly off the scattered kunai embedded in old wood.

"Back to positions! We’ll be continuing with throwing practice," Iruka called. "Kunai and shuriken today. Focus on accuracy. Precision over power."

Sakura tightened her grip around her pouch as she moved toward one of the further lanes. She’d always kept to the edge in these kinds of exercises. Not because she was shy—no, not quite—but because fewer eyes made it easier to focus.

And right now, she needed every ounce of that focus.

[Throwing - Kunai Lv 3 → 4]

The notification had come quietly, just as her last kunai from the earlier drill had struck dead center on the upper left quadrant of the target. A clean, decisive hit. Level up.

Her lips twitched into a small, secret smile as she pulled out three kunai in one smooth motion, weighing them in her hands. The balance was familiar now.

Her fingers knew where to grip, how to flick the wrist just right. She took a breath. Let it sit in her chest. Then exhaled, and moved.

Thud.

Thud.

Thunk.

Two bulls-eyes. One just a finger-width off. Her stance held steady as her hand lowered.

She heard Naruto somewhere behind her hollering, "Agh, stupid thing curved!" followed by a whistling sound as another kunai flew wildly into the dirt.

Sakura stayed quiet, adjusting her grip and picking up the next set. She didn’t even need to look at the system notification again. It was carved into her head now:

– Practice Clone Technique (10/10)

– Chakra Control Training (0/5)

– Win a Sparring Match (0/1)

– Increase any stat by 1 point (1/1)

> Reward: 250 EXP, +1 Stat Point, Skill Scroll (Intermediate Clone)

Just one more. Just one real win.

She stepped back, brushing the sweat off her brow. Her bangs clung to her temples now, and her arms ached faintly, but it was different from before.

A cleaner ache. Earned.

Iruka paced up and down the line, hands behind his back, occasionally correcting someone’s elbow or wrist. He stopped near her once, watching as she released another volley.

"Better grouping," he said quietly with a smile. "Keep at it. Your technique’s come a long way really. I can see you've been training."

Odd. He does always compliment her back then because of her high scores at theoretical exams but now... her cheeks flushed, lips slightly open.

She turned her head slightly. "Yes, Iruka-sensei."

Her eyes lingered on him as he moved on.

Some part of her wanted to ask. About Mizuki. About what she saw.

But in what way could she ask? It's not like she can say "Hey, sensei, I think Mizuki-sensei is a traitor. You should look at him." 

Or maybe—"Sensei, Mizuki-sensei is a traitor! I can feel it!"

She could not disclose her system too. That's for her to gatekeep.

Eventually, Mizuki stepped in with a lazy clap. "Alright, break it down. Targets will be cleared and sorted later. We’re moving into final sparring rounds for today. Names will be called, and we expect you to give your best effort."

She straightened at that. Her gaze cut briefly to Naruto, who was stretching loudly like a showboat.

To Sasuke, who stood alone like always, dark eyes focused somewhere far ahead.

To Ami, who stood with her arms crossed and her chin tilted like she was above it all.

The sun hit her eyes when she looked that way.

Her lashes fluttered.

This was it.

Her chance.

Sakura rolled her shoulders back. Felt the soreness settle in, and then drift away again like mist.

Iruka and Mizuki stood together, quietly exchanging papers before Mizuki nodded and turned.

He called the first names.

Not her. Not yet.

She stepped back to let the matches unfold.

Shikamaru fought first, reluctantly, with Choji cheering him half-heartedly from the side. He forfeited barely a minute in, citing it as "too troublesome." The class groaned.

Naruto fought next, a messy blur of limbs and yelling that ended in him flat on the dirt with a sheepish grin.

The sun tilted westward as afternoon bled into early evening. Dust hung in the air, kicked up by eager feet and hard falls. One by one, students were called up. Grunts, shouts, a few impressive maneuvers—and a lot more half-baked ones.

Iruka-sensei stood with a clipboard, calling the next names. "Next would be—" he looks up, eyeing the group of students waiting for the next pair.

"—Uchiha Sasuke versus Haruno Sakura."

Chapter Text

"—Uchiha Sasuke versus Haruno Sakura."

Sakura froze. She’d been wiping her hands on her skirt, still thinking about the clone’s strange proportions, but that name hit her like a jab to the ribs.

Gasps echoed. A few murmured comments—mostly surprise, a few amused.

"Good luck, forehead," Ami called with a sharp smile from the sideline.

Sakura stepped forward, shoulders squared, careful not to walk too fast or too slow. Her hands didn’t tremble, but her breath hitched in her throat when she turned to face him.

Sasuke stood already at the opposite end of the circle, face unreadable, posture loose but ready. His bangs cast a long shadow across his eyes, but his gaze was sharp as always—watching her, maybe weighing something.

Sakura’s mind whirred. She’d never fought Sasuke before. Had barely even spoken to him outside of class questions. But she had watched him. Everyone had.

And now, she was standing across from him like this was normal.

A part of her wanted to shrink back. Another part—louder now—tilted her chin up.

[System Notification]

> [Sparring Match Initiated – Objective: Win a Sparring Match (0/1)]

Note: Opponent difficulty is above average. Bonus EXP applicable.

"Begin!" Mizuki called.

Sasuke didn’t move.

Neither did Sakura.

The first few seconds were a tense silence. Then she lunged—not because it was smart, but because standing still any longer would only make things worse.

Her foot hit the dirt and she dashed forward, aiming a feint to the left, then swinging her leg low for a sweep.

Sasuke jumped it with minimal effort. His counterstrike was a palm aimed at her shoulder, sharp and efficient. Sakura twisted away, barely dodging, but her footing stumbled.

He didn’t follow up.

Instead, he stood still, eyes still on her—not dismissive. Not exactly surprised, either. Studying.

She grit her teeth and moved again.

This time she ducked in low, leading with her right and keeping her center tight. She landed two jabs—light, almost glancing—but they landed. Sasuke’s block came too late.

Her pulse jumped.

Then, in a blink, he responded with a pivot and low kick. She dropped too fast, overcorrecting—

Her elbow scraped the dirt. She rolled, kicked back up. Her legs burned.

And yet, her eyes were sharp. Her hands? Steady.

[New Passive Skill Unlocked – Tactical Scan Lv. 1]

> A passive battle-awareness state triggered under high-stakes pressure. Allows rapid microanalysis of opponent posture, stance, and movement flow. +5% to predicting attacks.

“Observe. Learn. Strike.”

Sakura didn’t even notice the screen.

But she noticed how her body paused at the right second, eyes darting left then right—Sasuke’s hip moved first, not his shoulder. She stepped back before the kick even came.

Sasuke’s dark eyes narrowed.

Her breath was ragged. Her arms ached. But the world was focused. Sharp.

Her elbow scraped the dirt. She rolled, kicked back up. Her legs burned.

The world tilted. Not literally. But something clicked in her.

Her vision sharpened—not in clarity, but in pattern. Sasuke's shoulder tensed before he stepped. His foot twisted a hair to the left before a pivot. Tiny details tells.

Her green eyes flicked from his stance to his hips, then his wrist, calculating.

She's not reacting faster.

She's reading him.

They circled.

This time when he moved, she sidestepped clean. Not graceful—but correct.

Another strike—she blocked it. Sloppy, barely, but it landed where it needed to.

Her breathing sharpened.

Her stance shifted mid-engagement, like something inside her brain had drawn chalk lines and red arrows in the dirt. She was finding openings that weren’t there seconds ago.

And then—her foot caught a loose rock.

Sasuke moved like wind, precise and clean.  He didn’t hit her. He just hooked her leg mid-motion and let her fall—controlled, almost gentle in its efficiency.

Her back hit the dirt. The breath escaped her lungs. The match ended.

Mizuki didn’t even need to call it.

Sasuke stepped back with a glare, turning away without a word. His face was scrunched, brows narrowed at something. 

She laid there a second longer, blinking up at the sky, chest heaving.

[Sparring Result: Loss]

> EXP Gained: +75 (Difficulty Modifier: x1.5)

Skill Progress: +10% to Hand-to-Hand

Passive Skill Progress: Combat Insight +12%

Chakra: -3 (Current: 13/22)

HP: -2 (Minor Bruises)

Sakura sat up slowly, brushing dust from her neck, her face, her uniform. She didn’t feel embarrassed. Not really.

The dust hadn’t even settled when she heard the scoff.

“Ugh, she lasted longer than I thought,” Ino muttered from the edge of the group, arms crossed, lips curled in a faint smirk. “Still got floored though.”

Sakura didn’t lift her head from the dirt, but her eyes twitched sideways.

From her angle, she could just make out Ino’s figure—blonde ponytail swaying, expression unreadable to most, but not to her. The old rivalry still shimmered under their skin like a bruise.

Somewhere nearby, Naruto pumped his fist in the air. "That was awesome, Sakura-chan! You almost had him!"

Shikamaru groaned as he flopped back against the trunk of a tree. "So troublesome. Getting all intense about it..."

Ino's next words rang out next, sharp and sticky with something bitter. "She only looked good because Sasuke-kun was going easy on her. That's all."

“Wooo! It's still awesome!” he yelled, despite having faceplanted minutes earlier in his own spar. “You were like—bam, bam! And then the bastard was like—uhhh, what?!”

“That’s not what happened,” Sasuke said flatly, walking past Naruto without even sparing him a glance.

Naruto stuck his tongue out behind Sasuke’s back anyway.

Sakura slowly sat up, brushing dirt from her arms and knees. Her hair clung to her neck, her uniform dusty, her forehead damp with sweat—but her eyes were distant. 

She didn’t answer Ino.

Didn’t react to Shikamaru’s grumble.

Didn’t even thank Naruto.

Because under her breath, lips barely parted, she was whispering to herself:

“Tactical Scan…”

Of course. Here's a more descriptive continuation with Sakura's sensory experience, her thoughts, and the weight of the moment deepened—grounded in her body, her environment, and her quiet hunger.

The name of the skill didn’t just appear. It seared behind her eyes like light through a magnifying glass—precise, clean, and hot enough to leave a mark. It echoed like a bell struck inside her skull, and even as her body pulsed with the ache of the spar, her mind was electric with realization.

Her chakra stirred faintly, like static on skin.

Sakura slowly rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright. Her hands stung against the coarse dirt, knuckles scraped raw, but steady.

Her pink hair—clumped with sweat and dirt—had come loose from its tie, the ends brushing against her cheek as she sat up fully. Strands clung to her temple, damp and sticky. She exhaled, hot air ghosting past her flushed lips.

The sun pressed down on her skin, warm and heavy. Her academy uniform clung to her back with moisture, and the scent of churned-up dust and trampled grass filled her nose.

Every nerve felt raw. Awake. The soft hum of movement from the others—shifting feet, low murmurs, the thwack of another spar—blurred around the edges of her focus.

But Sakura’s green eyes weren’t hazy.

They were sharp.

She remembered the exact moment it happened—during the fight. Sasuke had shifted left, but his right foot dragged a fraction too long. A tell. And she’d seen it.

Actually seen it.

Her pupils had flicked—not just once, but in tight, methodical darts. Shoulder, hip, foot, elbow. His weight had leaned just slightly toward his off-hand before he’d lunged. She hadn't thought about it at the time. She’d just known.

The same way she knew when to duck during a classmate’s wide punch, or how to calculate a solution under pressure in written exams.

But this wasn’t theory. This was instinct.

No.

A new skill.

[New Passive Skill Acquired!]

Tactical Scan Lv. 1

Your eyes see faster. Your brain parses threat patterns. Automatically activated during combat. Grants a chance to detect attack trajectories or opponent stance weaknesses.

—INT + WIS scaling—

The system text had flickered across her vision right before she’d hit the ground, half-stunned. It hadn’t been flashy. No fanfare. Just quiet confirmation.

And now?

Her fingers trembled slightly as she touched her jaw, still sore from where Sasuke’s palm had grazed her.

She’d almost dodged it. Almost.

And if she’d seen it a second earlier… she would have.

Sakura let out a breath and reached behind her to tug her ponytail back into a neater knot. She didn’t mind the dirt in her nails. The soreness in her arms.

The slow trickle of blood drying along one knee.

Because this—this was the kind of bruise that meant she was growing.

“That's cute,” she whispered again under her breath. Her lips tugged upward in the faintest grin and she didn't know her green eyes were hazy, almost glowing a bit from excitement.

“Sakura-chan! Are you okay?"

Naruto again. Louder this time.

She turned slightly, green eyes sliding to meet his—still wide with leftover adrenaline, his hands on his hips, a streak of dirt across his nose.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice steadier than expected. “Just catching my breath.”

Naruto blinked. “You looked kinda—scary for a sec.”

She gave a small shrug. “I was thinking.”

“About what?”

Her skill.

“Strategy.”

She looks up slightly, green eyes watching his lips open slightly then closed tight. His blue eyes were squinted as if trying to think. He scratched his head and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “yikes,” before jogging off to harass Kiba.

Sakura stood slowly, brushing off her uniform, and turned toward the sparring grounds. Ino was pretending not to look at her.

Something not weird.

Sasuke was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, eyes closed. Probably not even thinking about her.

That's fine itself.

Shikamaru had one eye cracked open, watching her with that unreadable look he always had when something made sense he didn’t feel like explaining.

Weird.

She met his gaze.

His lips curved up slightly and lazily. “Troublesome.”

And then closed his eyes again.

Sakura didn’t bother replying.

Her back straightened, her shoulder blades rolled into place, and she began walking toward the edge of the field where Mizuki was preparing to call the next set of names.

Her legs burned with each step, but it was clean.

Earned.

Her heart beat hard in her chest—not from fear, not from embarrassment—but from the thrum of something beginning.

And deep in her mind, nestled behind the quiet hum of chakra and resolve, the system’s mission still flickered like a lantern.

—Win a Sparring Match: (0/1)

—Chakra Control Training (0/5)

—Reward: 250 EXP, +1 Stat Point, Skill Scroll (Intermediate Clone)

Haruno Sakura had always wanted to be strong.

Chapter Text

The sun had slid farther across the sky by the time her next assignment was called, dragging golden-orange light over the training field. The shadows stretched longer, the dirt darker where it had been dug up by countless feet. Sweat, chalk, and chakra still hung in the air like a second skin.

Sakura Haruno exhaled slowly, standing near the edge of the sparring circle, arms loose by her sides. She watched the next two students go at it with half-lidded eyes, not really processing their movements. Her own pulse was still high—not from exhaustion, but from the aftershocks of the spar with Sasuke.

She could still feel the echo of it in her skin.

The weight of his strike that she nearly dodged.

The fight that stung sharper than an actual loss.

Her fingers twitched unconsciously, curling then relaxing. Almost. If she’d activated that new skill a second earlier. If she’d trusted what her eyes told her.

She inhaled through her nose. The air was full of dust and summer—heated bark, old sweat, churned dirt. Her mouth tasted faintly of iron and something sweet, like victory so close she could almost chew it.

She hated this.

She loved this.

She shifted on her feet, rolling her ankle, grounding herself. The ache in her arms had settled into something quieter now, almost satisfying.

Her muscles were heavy and full, the way they only got when she'd earned it. She glanced down at her palms, noting the fading chalk lines from the clone practice, still faintly visible between new scrapes and forming bruises.

She wiped her hands on her pants, watching the pair ahead of her finish their bout. One kid limped off grinning; the other sulked and kicked dust.

"Haruki vs Daichi!" Iruka-sensei’s voice called for a switch, and the next names began to echo across the clearing.

Sakura tuned it out, eyes scanning the group for familiar shapes. Naruto, loud and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Ino, brushing her hair back even as she adjusted her stance. Sasuke, unmoving. Mizuki, clipboard in hand, checking names.

A flicker of chakra passed behind her eyes—so faint she might’ve missed it if not for her constant internal tension. It was Mizuki again. Walking between students, giving them idle pointers, always just a bit too smooth. Too mild.

“Sakura-chan,” Mizuki called out sweetly, eyes barely flicking up from his sheet. “You’ll pair with Kai.”

A civilian student versus another.

A few groans and chuckles from the class.

Kai?

He wasn’t known for much besides being fast and a little clumsy. Civilian-born. A bit taller than her, shoulders tight with nerves. He adjusted his stance too many times before even stepping forward.

Slightly taller. Awkward in stance but fast on his feet. She knew him. They’d sat together in theory classes once or twice.

Kai bowed once, nervously. “Go easy on me, okay?”

Sakura rolled her shoulders, already walking toward the center ring. She stepped into the ring, and her body settled into position automatically. Knees bent, hands loose but ready, spine straight.

Her green eyes caught him—flicked down to his shifting feet, the slight bend in his left knee, the way his fingers flexed like he couldn’t decide if he was anxious or cold.

She smiled.

Just a little. Lips closed, one corner twitching. No one would notice unless they were looking closely.

Her hair was clinging to her temple in damp strands, the pink a bit darker from sweat. Her chest rose and fell in controlled rhythm, sharp with adrenaline. The afternoon heat hadn't broken, and the field still smelled like trampled dirt and sun-warmed metal.

Observed him.

[Observe Activated.]

Kai – Academy Student HP: 38/38 | Chakra: 9/12

Status: Slightly Winded

Notable Traits: Quick Reflexes (passive), Nervous Energy (temporary)

Warning: Target is faster than you. Avoid open chases. Focus on footwork.

Weak Point: Right side counter is slow—stiff shoulder.

Sakura’s lashes lowered, a quiet breath slipping past her lips.

Okay. That's workable.

She tapped her heel once against the packed dirt and shifted her weight forward—balanced. Ready. Her muscles sang with the dull ache of earlier drills, but her stance was steady. Her fingertips were tingling.

Iruka raised his hand from the side. “Begin when ready.”

Kai moved first. Quick. A blur from the edge of her vision—but Sakura had already adjusted, sidestepping cleanly, breath still even. His palm grazed her sleeve.

Not fast enough.

Her body moved sharper now. Tighter turns. Smaller steps. She let him circle, didn’t rush. Watched how he breathed, where his eyes tracked.

He came in again—left jab. She blocked.

And again—faster this time. She ducked.

The third strike hit. Barely. Glanced off her shoulder.

She let it.

Then her heel spun. Elbow snapped forward. Not full force—just enough to brush his ribs and make him stumble back.

Their feet scuffed against the ring boundary. The class made a low, surprised noise. "Woooh."

Kai blinked at her before adjusting his stance again. His fingers twitched at his sides, eyes flicking toward Mizuki-sensei, maybe for guidance, maybe for an out.

But Mizuki only smiled thinly, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. Watching.

"Uh…" Kai’s voice was soft, uncertain. His foot shifted back an inch.

They waited.

The breeze stirred dust across the field.

No one called the spar.

Then: "What are you waiting for?" Iruka-sensei’s voice cut clean through the silence. "Continue the fight!"

Sakura didn’t move. Not yet.

She could hear the sound of Kai’s breath now. Fast. Uneven. His chest rising in stutters. She watched his stance—not bad, just… borrowed. Textbook footing, textbook hand position. But his weight leaned too far forward. He’d move with speed again, not balance.

This is it.

Win a spar. Win a scroll. Get stronger.

Mizuki stepped back. “Continue.”

Kai rushed in again—too fast. No strategy. His footwork was uneven, and his arms lifted high, open for a sweep. Sakura's eyes flicked—shoulder, knee, forward.

Tactical Scan: Active.

The world slowed just enough.

She twisted left. His hand brushed her shoulder but lost momentum. Her foot snapped up, sweeping under his front leg. Kai hit the ground with a breathy “oof” and rolled. Not bad.

He recovered quicker than she expected, twisting to aim a desperate kick at her midsection.

She dropped into a crouch, catching his ankle with her palm and pushing off it as she twisted around. Dirt sprayed up from her heels.

Her chakra flared faintly, not enough to use a jutsu, but there—rushing in her veins, eager.

Kai hesitated. Too long.

Sakura drove forward, shoulder-first, and caught him off balance. He fell backward with a loud “ack!” and hit the dirt again. Harder this time.

"Point, Sakura!" Iruka’s voice rang out.

She blinked. Her fists were still raised, but the spar was over.

Kai lay sprawled on his back, blinking up at the leaves overhead. “Ow,” he muttered. “That was... actually kinda awesome.”

She stepped back, bowing once. Her own chest rising and falling steadily, not fast.

[Quest Updated!]

✔ Win a Sparring Match (1/1)

– Chakra Control Training (0/5)

Sakura exhaled, long and slow.

Almost there.

Just one more thing.

She turned, stepping out of the ring, and made her way toward the edge of the training circle. Her steps were steady, but every part of her buzzed like wire pulled tight.

Kai was dusting himself off with a goofy smile. Naruto called out some compliment or jab—she didn’t catch it. "—ttebayo!"

Ino leaned toward Shikamaru, murmuring something like, “Wow. Since when was forehead that intense?”

“Since she started trying,” Shikamaru muttered back, barely hiding a yawn. “Troublesome.”

Sakura ignored them.

She reached for her water, tipping it back, letting the coolness cut through the dry heat in her mouth. Her tongue tasted like dirt and iron and effort. She swallowed and glanced skyward.

The clouds were thickening now. Late afternoon. Wind tugged faintly at the hem of her shirt. There was still time. For one more thing.

She would go back home later. Shower. Meditate.

And when she woke up tomorrow—

Intermediate Clone would be hers.

The sky deepens into bruised purple as the sun slips behind the trees. The wind has cooled into something gentler now, threading through the field and catching the loose strands of Sakura’s hair where they cling to her damp cheek.

Her shirt clings to her spine, and there’s a faint tremble in her legs—not from exhaustion, but from the adrenaline that refuses to burn out.

Her fingers twitch faintly. She’s still riding the edges of that last fight.

She exhales through her nose, slow, measured. Then lifts her hand.

[Show Status]

A clean pane slides over her vision.

She scans the list with a familiar flicker of satisfaction and a flicker more of unease. She doesn’t touch the stat points. Not yet. Not until she has a plan.

Just as she lets the screen dissolve, a voice breaks behind her.

“Saku—ra!”

She pauses.

Not tired. Not startled.

Just… annoyed.

She knows that voice. Its pitch. Its rhythm. Even the smug little curl at the edge of it.

Ino.

Sakura doesn’t turn yet. She stands still, adjusting the strap of her bag on one shoulder. The breeze lifts the hem of her skirt slightly, and in the distance, someone laughs. The rest of the class has already thinned out—gone home, or loitered near the market.

Ino’s footsteps crunch lightly behind her, deliberately soft. Not loud, not aggressive. Measured.

Of course.

When Sakura finally turns her head, it’s with the slow precision of someone choosing to—green eyes catching the dimming sunlight, catching something faint and not quite normal. A subtle shimmer flickers across her gaze like static on glass.

She blinks. It fades.

Ino stands a few feet away. Her arms are crossed, posture tilted like she’s standing on one hip. Casual. Her head tilts slightly, blonde hair catching the orange glow of the sky like gold silk.

Her mouth wears a smile that’s too relaxed to be friendly, and too tight to be real.

“You looked serious during sparring today,” Ino says. “Almost thought you were trying to win or something.”

Sakura stares for a moment. Then her lips curl—not into a smile, not really.

“What do you want, pig?”

It comes out sharper than she means it. But not by much.

Ino hums, eyes flicking lazily up and down her.

“Just curious,” she says. “You’re all… sweaty and intense now. Since when did you care so much about taijutsu?”

Sakura shrugs one shoulder, small. “Since it started mattering.”

“That so?” Ino’s lashes lower, her smirk widening. “Must be exhausting. Trying to keep up.”

Sakura stiffens—just a breath. Just enough.

It’s not a new jab. Ino’s never said anything direct. Not about clan. Not about bloodlines. But there’s always something buried under the way she talks. Under that polished voice. That faint accent from her father's side.

The ease of a girl who’s never had to explain where she comes from.

Ino doesn’t need to say it.

Sakura isn’t from a clan. Doesn’t have a name carved into Konoha’s trees. Doesn’t have a jutsu scroll passed down for generations. Just a quiet house with a garden full of herbs and a mother who tells her to stop reading and go to bed with a father whose laugh boomed loudly.

“Some of us don’t have it handed to us,” Sakura says, quiet, controlled. Her tone doesn’t rise. “So we train.”

Ino’s gaze sharpens a little, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Is that what that was? Training? Looked more like flailing.”

Sakura steps closer—not by much. Just half a foot. The air between them is tight now.

She lifts her chin slightly, green eyes catching the last flare of sunlight over the rooftops. They glint again. Just a flicker of that same unnatural glow.

But she doesn’t blink this time.

“You watched me fight,” Sakura says, voice low. “Twice. But you didn’t say anything until it was over.”

“Why would I?” Ino says, still smiling, but it’s brittle now.

Sakura’s head tilts, mirroring her.

“Because you noticed something.”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Ino shifts her weight, and for the first time, her eyes drop—not far. Just briefly. Just enough for Sakura to see the flicker of wariness in her expression.

Sakura doesn’t push it.

She doesn’t need to.

She just lets the silence stretch. Her shoulders relax, the edge of her posture cooling again. She’s already turned half away when Ino speaks again.

“You know,” Ino says because the Sakura before would just glare at her words, “you’re getting kind of scary when you do that.”

Sakura pauses.

“What?”

“That look.” Ino waves vaguely at her face. “Like you’re reading a book that hasn’t been written yet.”

Sakura doesn’t answer right away.

Because… she’s not wrong.

Her expression barely shifts. But her mouth twitches—not quite a smile. Not quite not.

Then: “Go home, pig.”

Ino snorts. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

And she turns anyway.

As the blonde walks off down the slope toward the main path, she doesn’t look back. Her steps are neat, composed. A little too rigid.

Sakura watches until she’s gone.

Then exhales, slow and steady. Her fingers unclench at her side.

She lifts her hand once more.

[Observe] – Ino Yamanaka

> HP: 46/50 | Chakra: 25/30

Status: Alert. Cautious. Hiding mild irritation.

Notes: Daughter of the Yamanaka Clan. Proficient in Mind Transmission and sensory techniques. Strong personal pride. Watches her peers closely. Doesn’t enjoy being second.

Sakura lowers her hand.

The system dims again.

She turns toward the opposite street, dust kicking up around her shoes. Her steps are slow at first, then steadier.

Home. Shower. Dinner. Meditation.

Sakura walks the path home alone, dust still clinging to her skin, sweat dried cold at the back of her neck. The sun has dipped lower—amber bleeding into violet along the horizon, painting the rooftops of Konoha in soft, slanted light.

She takes the longer route. Not because she wants to, but because her feet do. A leftover habit.

After days like this, she’s never in a rush to sit in silence.

Ahead, raised voices.

She slows.

Kiba stands at the edge of their compound, chin tilted down, shoulders stiff like a scolded mutt. An Inazuka towers over him—arms crossed, brows drawn down. There’s a smear of something—mud? drool?—across her jawline.

Wild black hair, scars over her lip, a heavy coat draped carelessly across her shoulders like it wears her instead of the other way around. Her canine teeth flash as she yells at her youngest son, who’s crouched guiltily beside Akamaru. 

Her voice is gruff and sharp, cutting through the soft air. “You let Akamaru chase cats again, didn’t you? I told you to leash his instincts when you're in the market district.”

Kiba mutters something under his breath. Akamaru, nestled in his hoodie, lets out a high-pitched whimper.

Sakura watches from behind the corner of a fence post, unseen.

Another Inuzuka leans against the doorframe behind them, laughing low in her throat. There’s amusement in her eyes but no malice. Just an older sibling’s smug delight. “Next time, mom, just let him run after the cats. Maybe Kiba will learn his lesson when he gets banned from the market for good.”

Kiba's mom and sister.

“Not helping,” Kiba bites back, but his voice lacks heat.

Sakura stands for a beat longer, green eyes trailing over the moment like it’s something both foreign and familiar. Loud family. Messy affection. Sharp words with soft edges.

Sakura blinks.

She whispers under her breath. “Observe.”

And the system hums softly behind her eyes.

[Observe] Activated

> Tsume Inuzuka

Rank: Tokubetsu Jōnin

HP: ???? | Chakra: ???

Known as the matriarch of the Inuzuka Clan. Brutally honest. Specializes in feral taijutsu and canine-based tracking.

Mood: Irritated. Protective. (Maybe proud.)

Status: Scolding her son. Smells faintly of blood and herbs.

> Hana Inuzuka

Rank: Chūnin

HP: ??? | Chakra: ???

Inuzuka veterinarian and shinobi. Calm. Dangerous when provoked.

Mood: Amused.

Status: Letting her mother do the yelling. She’s had a long day.

She doesn’t linger. Doesn’t intrude.

Just turns, adjusts her bag over her shoulder, and keeps walking.

Past the bustle. Past the smells of grilled mochi and faint wind-borne pollen.

The gates of the residential block are quiet. Her building’s shadow stretches long.

Then—Ding!

A soft, mechanical chime in her mind.

[New Mission Available]

Her foot stops mid-step.

A pale square flickers just ahead of her—like light on glass—hovering an inch from her eyes.

[Side Quest: Unknown Request Detected]

> Investigate source. Reward: ???

She blinks.

The mission icon pulses once, steady and patient.

Sakura exhales through her nose. Her hand twitches. Not toward a weapon, not toward her pouch—just toward her center, where her chakra sits warm and waiting.

“…Okay,” she mutters, the word ghosting out of her.

She straightens her spine and presses the prompt.

[Quest Accepted.]

The icon pulses again, then shifts—resolves into text.

[Side Quest Updated]

> Errand Request – Mebuki Haruno

Objective: Purchase 1x Kinome (young sansho leaf) from market

Reward: +25 EXP | +1 Affection (Mebuki Haruno) | +1 Cooking Ingredient (Kinome)

Sakura stares for a second.

“...Seriously?”

But the system doesn’t answer. It never does. Just a faint whisper of warmth under her ribs, like a nudge.

She adjusts the strap of her bag again and veers right at the next turn, toward the open-air market.

The stalls are winding down for the evening. Lanterns are lit, casting everything in soft gold and red. A breeze flutters the awnings. The smell of roasted sweet potatoes, miso glaze, and grilled squid drifts between voices.

Adults haggling. Kids laughing.

Sakura doesn’t rush.

She walks with quiet purpose, shoes brushing against the packed dirt. Her eyes flick over names and signs.

She knows the vendor she needs—an older man with a scar down his right cheek who sells herbs in neat little bundles strung on twine.

She spots him near the end, halfway into packing his cart.

“Excuse me,” she says.

He looks up, blinks, then gives a slow grin. “You’re cutting it close, girl.”

“I just need kinome.”

He grunts but nods, reaching beneath the stall’s cloth. “Hmph. You’re lucky. One left.”

She exchanges coins for the bundle. It’s light. Wrapped in brown paper. Tied with twine.

[Item Acquired: Kinome Leaf (1)]

> Quest Complete

+25 EXP

+1 Affection (Mebuki Haruno)

+1 Cooking Ingredient

Sakura slips it into her bag.

The walk home is cooler now. Streetlamps flicker to life one by one. She rolls her shoulders as she climbs the stairs to the apartment. Her legs are tired but steady.

The door creaks open with a click.

“I’m home,” she says out of habit, toeing off her sandals.

From the kitchen: “Hi, honey. Hey, could you do me a quick favor?”

Mebuki’s voice is cheerful. Soft, the way it gets when she’s stirring something. “Can you run to the market and get some kinome? I forgot I was out—”

Sakura holds the plastic bag up mid-step, the little paper bundle rustling inside.

“I have it.”

Mebuki blinks, wooden spoon halfway raised. “You do?”

Sakura shrugs, dropping it gently onto the counter. “Felt like taking the long way home.”

“Huh.” Her mother stares at her a moment longer, eyes narrowed just a little. “...Well, thanks.”

Sakura hums. Heads for her room.

She doesn’t explain the mission. The flickering box. The way the system mapped her mother’s habits like it knew her better than she did.

She just closes the door, drops her bag, and finally exhales.

The house muffles behind it.

The plastic bag with the kinome still rustles faintly in the kitchen, but her mother doesn’t say anything else. The air smells faintly of simmering broth and grated ginger.

Sakura peels off her sandals, toes curling briefly against the wooden floor, and makes her way down the hall. Her feet ache. Her left shoulder throbs faintly from where she hit the ground during her match. Her skin feels tight with dried sweat, and her scalp itches beneath the band where her hair was tied.

She doesn’t stop in her room. She walks straight to the bathroom.

The light flickers on.

Steam curls around her ankles before the water even hits the tile. She tugs off her shirt, fingers catching slightly on the fabric where it clings to her back.

The bandages across her knee are lightly stained—dirt and chakra burn from throwing drills and falling too hard during sparring.

Her sports bra is soaked. She pulls it over her head in one motion and tosses it into the laundry bin. Then off come the shorts, the towel looped over the sink, the shower turned on with a creaking knob.

The first spray of hot water hits her like a slap, and she exhales through her teeth.

Her forehead presses briefly against the cool tile.

The steam gathers quickly, fogging the mirror behind the curtain. Drops bead along her collarbone, tracing slow paths down her arms, her stomach, the backs of her knees.

She closes her eyes and leans back, letting it run down her spine.

The ache in her legs—muted but constant—begins to ease.

Bits of gravel and chakra static swirl down the drain with the water. Her fingers shake a little as she works shampoo into her scalp, scrubbing until the sting becomes soothing. The water turns faintly red.

Her pink hair clings to her shoulders when she rinses.

She washes the smell of dust and sweat and old training mats from her skin. Rubs the knots out of her forearms. Massages her calf muscle until it twitches.

By the time she steps out, her skin is flushed, damp, and clean. She towels off her face and catches her own reflection through the fogged mirror.

Green eyes stare back.

A little brighter than this morning. A little clearer. Still ringed with fatigue, but alive.

She doesn’t smile. Just breathes.

Her fingers reach toward the interface automatically.

Chapter Text

[Status: Fatigue — Cleared]

[HP: Full | Chakra: Stable | Buff: Rested – Minor EXP Boost (1hr)]

The first thing she registers is the absence of ache.

No heaviness in her limbs. No tightness behind her eyes. Her muscles feel like they’ve already been stretched, warmed, and filed smooth at the edges.

Sakura opens her green eyes slowly.

She’d slept hard—no dreams, no interruptions. She barely remembers hitting the pillow.

By the time she’s dressed and out the door, the morning’s still quiet. Mist clings low to the street edges. Her sandals hit the ground in light, rhythmic thuds as she runs—just enough to raise her pulse.

Her breath comes steady. The usual pressure in her joints? Gone.

Running stats passively flicker through her thoughts—pace, distance, heart rate—but she doesn't focus on them. They exist like muscle memory now. She counts laps only once they’re done.

Ten.

She walks the last stretch home.

Inside: sandals off, towel tossed. A quick rinse to scrub the dirt and sweat off her skin, steam curling up around the ceiling fan.

When she steps out, cheeks flushed and damp hair clinging to her nape, the sun’s just beginning to rise above the rooftops.

In the kitchen, her father’s already seated, sipping quietly from his favorite mug. "You're up early again," he comments.

"Mm." Sakura slides into her chair, toweling her hair dry with one hand. "Wanted to get a run in."

"You're gonna lap the whole class at this rate," he mutters, half to himself. "That's five times in a row."

"That's the plan," she replies blandly, already reaching for her chopsticks.

At the stove, her mother frowns, flipping fish. "You better not be skipping meals again."

"I'm not," Sakura says.

Mebuki eyes her sideways. "And you already showered?"

Sakura nods.

"You’re not training yourself into the hospital?"

"No."

There’s a silence filled by the clink of plates and chopsticks against ceramic.

"Actually," Mebuki says, "I forgot—can you stop by the market after class today? I need shirogane root—"

Sakura lifts the small plastic bag from the side of her chair.

Clear, slightly frosted, tied twice.

"I have it."

Her mother blinks.

"You—?"

"You mentioned it in passing yesterday," Sakura says, already chewing a mouthful of pickled radish. "Figured you'd forget."

Her father hums, impressed. "Wow, is this another ninja skill unlocked for my baby girl?"

Sakura shrugs. "Just prediction."

But in her mind, a faint [Relationship Progress: +2 — Mebuki Haruno] flashes and fades.

She finishes her breakfast in record time, bowls rinsed and set aside before her parents even move.

She has time before class.

Just enough for something small—like a scan through her status. Maybe a reroute of stat points. A soft chakra pulse curls beneath her ribs like a loaded spring.

She closes the door behind her with a soft click.

Quiet.

Outside, the neighborhood is beginning to stir. Vendors rolling carts.

A pair of early birds chatting as they sweep storefronts. The rustle of wind through open windows and the creak of old wood shifting in the sun.

She moves to the corner where her bag rests and sits cross-legged beside it, the floorboards cool against the back of her calves. Her fingers flex once, twice—then hover just above her left wrist.

A breath in. Her eyes narrow faintly.

[Open Status]

A soft mental click. The world doesn’t change, not really—but her perception sharpens. Text aligns like a half-transparent overlay across her sight, unintrusive now that she’s used to it.

She lets the screen sit in her mind's eye for a few breaths.

Level 4. Not bad.

Her stats feel like hers now—not distant numbers, but embodied. That small Dexterity boost from last night made her dodges feel sharper. Her chakra reserves edged higher. Not a leap, but a step.

Her fingers twitch.

Should she assign the two available points now?

She considers it, then closes the window with a quiet mental nudge. No. Later.

For now—momentum.

She changes into her uniform in practiced movements. Navy sandals, the familiar fabric of her red top, her Konoha-issued pouch cinched neatly at her hip.

Her hair, still damp, is tied back with a taut band into a high tail that brushes the tops of her shoulders.

There’s a brief pause in front of the mirror.

She looks like herself. But not quite.

There’s something different in her eyes lately. Something focused. Less wandering. More… aiming.

A flicker of green light glints in her pupils before she looks away.

Outside, the village stretches in long low walls and angular rooftops, the trees just beyond moving like a slow breath. Her bag thumps against her back with every step as she makes her way toward the academy, legs moving steady.

But as she turns the corner near the main road—

"–KIBA INUZUKA!" a voice thunders.

Sakura slows, pausing behind a post.

Down the slope near the veterinary clinic, Kiba is cowering beneath the shrill scolding of his mother. Tsume Inuzuka, wild-haired and feral-eyed, jabs a finger at him with the intensity of a kunai point.

"How many times do I have to tell you to clean Akamaru’s paws before you let him into the house!?"

"But it’s clean dirt!" Kiba protests weakly.

Akamaru barks, tail wagging, tongue lolling out happily—clearly unbothered. Off to the side, his older sister Hana is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression deeply entertained.

Sakura watches only a moment. Just long enough to catch Kiba’s completely betrayed face as his dog sneezes on him and his mother doubles down.

"I did wash him!"

"His paws are brown!"

"Because he’s a dog!"

Akamaru, round and white and proudly muddy, lets out a cheerful yap as if to back him up. His ears wiggle. His tongue lolls.

Kiba catches the movement out of the corner of his eye—Sakura, standing nearby. His face tightens.

“Oh thank god.”

He jogs up the slope like a man escaping war. "Sakura!" he calls too loudly. “What a coincidence! I was just about to catch up with you.”

Sakura stares as he plants himself next to her like they’ve been walking together this whole time.

Behind them, his mom's voice rings out again. “Kiba! Don’t pretend you’re busy!”

He raises a hand in vague dismissal. “Sorry, Mom! Ninja stuff!”

Sakura gives him a look. Flat. Curious.

He shrugs, sheepish. “You saw nothing.”

"I saw a lot," she replies.

He grins.

They walk side by side for a bit. Akamaru pads along, tail wagging, then sneezes dramatically as if insulted by the mud accusations.

“You heading to class?” he asks, casual. Still slightly out of breath from fleeing domestic fury.

"Mm."

“You were really something yesterday. Didn’t expect that roundhouse.”

Her brow lifts. "You were watching?"

"Uh, duh? You dusted that Kai guy. Even Shino blinked, and that dude doesn’t blink."

Sakura exhales through her nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite not.

Kiba shoves his hands in his pockets. “Guess even fangirls are to watch out for, huh?”

She says nothing.

Then, after a few steps: “Your mom’s scary.”

“Tell me about it.”

They round the corner toward the market road, the scolding growing faint behind them.

Kiba scratches his neck with a grunt. "She always gets like that after missions. I leave one muddy pawprint on the stairs and suddenly I'm the downfall of the Inuzuka clan."

Akamaru whines in protest beside him, tail wagging.

Sakura doesn’t answer right away. The wind brushes against her bare arms. She adjusts her bag strap with one hand. The streets are still quiet—just the gentle rumble of crates being unloaded and the hum of morning.

"I saw your sister laughing," she says finally.

Kiba groans. "She’s the worst. She’ll act like it’s hilarious now but wait till she tells the story to everyone during lunch."

They cross the footbridge, water glinting faintly below. Sakura’s sandals strike the wood in measured steps. Hers always sound lighter than other people's. Like she’s walking just enough to be there, but never more than necessary.

She doesn't rush.

Kiba kicks a pebble off the edge. "You're quieter lately. It's weird."

"You're louder lately," she replies without missing a beat.

"Ha. Rude."

But he grins, toothy and easy.

The Academy gate rises into view ahead, stone pillars flanked by dull metal slats. A couple of students lean around the entrance, trading snacks or muttering about whatever. One kid’s already dozing on his bag.

Sakura slows.

Not dramatically. Just enough to feel her heels catch on the rhythm of her own breath. Her fingers twitch, brushing against her thigh.

Something flickers faintly across her vision.

> [Optional Objective: Arrive Early – Academy Training Grounds]

Bonus: +5 EXP if completed.

She doesn’t blink.

Kiba steps ahead and throws a hand up in farewell as he went to probably ditch class or go in class late. “Don’t die in there.”

She doesn’t answer. Not because she doesn’t hear him—but because she’s already stepping onto the gravel walk alone.

The Academy looms quieter in the early hour. Less buzz. Less heat. The sunlight hasn’t made the windows harsh yet. Her eyes flick upward, studying the second-floor classrooms, noting which ones are still dark.

She slips through the side door.

No one’s posted there yet. No Mizuki, no Iruka. The hallway smells like waxed floors and warm dust. She hears distant thumps—someone rearranging chairs, maybe. Maybe a janitor. Maybe another student showing off.

She exhales and makes her way toward the room.

Inside, the desks are neat. Chalkboards clean. A faint outline of yesterday’s formulas still lingers, ghostlike, under the fresh wipe. Her usual seat is middle-left, two rows from the window.

She sets her bag down carefully.

Sits.

Hands fold neatly over the desk for a moment. Her posture is straighter now. Less to impress. More to hold something in.

Her gaze flickers.

> [Inventory]

[Skill Scroll: Intermediate Clone]

Use item? [Y/N]

She hovers, metaphorically.

Not yet.

Instead, she leans back just slightly, letting her fingers drum quietly against her thigh, hidden beneath the desk.

Other students begin to drift in.

Chōji with crumbs on his shirt. Shikamaru dragging his feet. Hinata clutching her notebook to her chest, eyes cast low. Ino blows in like a wind gust, dramatic and golden, her eyes finding Sakura instantly. Kai looking at her slightly before talking to his friends.

Ami rolling her eyes upon seeing her.

But she doesn’t speak.

Not yet.

Iruka enters first. Tall, alert, notes in hand. He glances once around the class, nods once when he sees everyone, and continues organizing.

Mizuki follows two minutes later.

Smile already on. Too bright. Too sharp.

Sakura watches him from beneath her lashes.

She doesn’t look away.

The bell rings. Class begins.

“…So when the chakra is too thin, the clone will look foggy,” Iruka-sensei says from the front of the classroom, tapping the board with a bit of chalk. “If the flow isn’t distributed evenly, it’ll flicker or deform—sometimes even burst if it’s unstable. That’s why clone techniques are a good test of chakra control.”

Sakura writes that down.

Chalk scratches out diagrams of stick-figure clones—one faint, one with a lopsided leg.

“There’s a reason we teach this early. You mess this up in the field, it could give away your position or worse, get you targeted. Accuracy matters. Control matters.”

He turns from the board, eyes sweeping the room. “You all need to get familiar with how your chakra feels—how it moves.”

Sakura’s pen slows. Her breath stays quiet. She’s listening. Really listening.

Iruka continues, “Then we have the Elemental  Clone. They're  different. Not just a copy. It’s faster. Denser. It can mimic speech, dodge, even pretend to strike. Takes more chakra, but in return—”

He snaps his fingers.

“—it fools even the sharpest sensor if done right.”

Sakura’s gaze doesn’t move from her notes. But her hand dips under the desk.

Quiet. Clean.

> [Use Item: Skill Scroll – Intermediate Clone?]

[Y]

She doesn’t brace herself.

She doesn’t have to.

It enters her like breath. Smooth. Instant. Like she’s absorbing a memory that isn’t hers.

The hand seals line up in her head, neat and flawless.

Tiger → Boar → Ox → Dog

Her body knows the shape already.

Her chakra hums in quiet response. No resistance. No confusion. It just knows.

It’s… wrong. Strange. Unnatural.

And it’s incredible. She presses her hand flat against her thigh, grounding herself.

“Once you can make two clones hold a stance for more than ten seconds,” Iruka says, “you’re ready for rotation drills. Until then—”

A whisper cuts through her focus.

“You’re really taking notes?” Ami’s voice drips from two rows over. Not loud. Just loud enough. “Like that’s gonna help you when we’re out there.”

Sakura’s eyes stay on her paper. She keeps writing.

“I mean, I guess if I had no clan or anything to fall back on, I’d probably take notes too.”

There it is.

The word. Clanless. Always said like it’s a lack.

A few others glance over. Not to help. Just to see. A few students shift in their seats.

Behind her, Sakura hears Naruto let out a yawn exaggerated enough to earn him a sharp elbow from Shikamaru.

Sakura finishes her line.

Then she turns her head.

Not fast. Just precise.

Her green eyes settle on Ami. Not narrowed. Not angry. Just looking.

And Ami, for a second, looks back.

Then looks away.

Sakura doesn’t smile.

She doesn’t need to.

Iruka says something about clone decoys, and Sakura dips her head again, copying the new formula into the edge of her notes.

Inside her, chakra twines like wire through silk—new and strong and hers.

> [You have learned: Intermediate Clone Technique]

Iruka drones on.

But she’s not bored.

She’s listening. Letting it soak in.

“…when positioning your clones, remember their placement is your responsibility. You can’t just throw them out and hope for the best.”

He’s drawing something—some example formation of decoy and caster, triangle pattern.

Sakura’s still taking notes.

But her mind is elsewhere.

The scroll didn’t just give her knowledge. It gave her muscle. A reflex. Like she’d practiced it in another body, for months. It’s still sinking in, but even now, if she closed her eyes—

She could feel where the chakra would split. Where it would anchor.

Where she’d go, and where they’d fake going.

She wonders if anyone else feels it like this. If Ino or Sasuke would just know the way she does now. She doubts it.

Iruka gestures at the board. “Ketsueki-san. Tell me one use for a clone decoy in urban terrain.”

Ami jolts.

“T-To… confuse tracking nin. To draw them toward a false target.”

“Correct.” He nods once. “Try to answer with more confidence next time.”

Ami’s mouth tightens.

Sakura notes the slight shift in her posture. The tilt of her spine.

She’s annoyed. Not embarrassed. That’s the kind of girl she is. Doesn’t flinch when corrected. Gets sharp.

But she’s not looking back at Sakura this time.

Sakura can feel her chakra, quiet in her core. Soft and steady.

She wants to test it. To try the clone again.

But not here. Not with so many eyes.

Iruka dismisses them for lunch after a warning: “Back in twenty. We’ll quiz on theory next.”

Naruto bolts for the hallway. Chouji follows with his chips already open. Ino and her two shadows glide toward the sunlit bench out front.

Sakura stays seated.

Until Ami brushes past.

No words. Just a glance. A little too obvious to be nothing.

And then, under her breath: “Must be nice, just memorizing things instead of learning them.”

Sakura stands.

The room’s mostly empty now.

She leans in, casual. Just close enough to speak quietly.

“If your clan’s so useful,” she says, tone even, “you’d be topping the board by now.”

Ami stops.

Her mouth opens.

Then shuts again.

Ami’s spine stiffens like she’s been slapped. Her hand, which had been twirling a loose strand of glossy black hair, stills mid-motion. The lazy curve of her mouth flattens.

Sakura doesn’t look at her again.

She returns to her notebook, flips a page, and pretends to underline something. But Ami is quiet. That silence hums like a pressure point in the corner of Sakura’s awareness.

She already knows how to do the [Intermediate clone].

Because when the scroll dissolved in her [Inventory] minutes ago—quiet, unseen, its magic like fine thread weaving into her spine—it didn’t feel like learning.

It felt like remembering.

Her hands already know the shape of the seals. Her breath already knows how to settle when channeling the flow. The back of her mind holds a diagram of movement, delay, mirrored distance. Things she shouldn’t know.

But she does.

It terrifies her a little.

It excites her more.

Sakura lingers on lunch bream

She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t pretend to search through her bag, either. Just slides it over her lap, fingers brushing the outside flap—then moves like she’s unzipping it.

> [Open Inventory?]

[Y]

---

> [Item: Homemade Lunch – Fresh (Mebuki’s Stir-Fry Box)]

[Use Item?]

[Y]

Her hand dips into the bag.

When it comes out, she’s holding the bento box. Warm. Wrapped neatly in pale cloth.

No one sees.

She leans back, easing onto the steps outside the hall, the sun pressing down soft and steady on her back. The courtyard is quiet here—stone benches, little breeze, the crunch of gravel under distant feet.

She unties the cloth. The scent of soy, ginger, and fresh scallion floats up.

Then—heels clicking like punctuation on the stone path—

Ami.

And the rest of them.

“Sakura,” Ami drawls, voice all air and blade. “How cute. Eating alone again?”

Sakura doesn’t lift her eyes at first. She places her chopsticks neatly to the side.

Then she looks up.

Three of them. Ami in front, arms crossed, expression carved into that same smirk she always wears like armor. Behind her, Rena and Kiku, wide-eyed and slack-jawed like shadows that forgot how to think for themselves.

Sakura exhales through her nose. Slowly.

"Something you want?" she asks.

Ami’s eyes flick to the bento. “No invitation? After all, we’re classmates.”

"We're not friends."

"Ouch." Ami presses a hand to her chest. “You weren’t this mouthy before.”

"Before?"

"You know." Her smile lifts. "Before you got lucky with that Kai kid and decided you were hot shit."

Sakura doesn’t answer.

She chews. Slowly. Lets the silence stretch until it folds in on itself.

Then sets her chopsticks down. "You think that was luck?"

Ami blinks. Just once. Her mouth open again.

Kiku lets out a tiny breath like she was holding it. 

Rena mutters something about going somewhere else, but Ami doesn’t budge.

“You’re bluffing,” she says, teeth now showing just a little too much.

Sakura tilts her head, studying her. Her expression doesn’t change.  But her chakra stirs—just faintly—like something learning how to ripple on command.

> [Observe – Lv. 4 Activated]

Target: Ami

Chakra Control: Poor

Emotional State: Defensive. Minor hostility. Envy.

Note: Craves recognition. Avoids direct confrontation without backup.

Of course.

Sakura clicks her chopsticks together again. Once. Sharp.

"Eat your lunch," she says quietly. “Before you embarrass yourself.”

And maybe it’s the way she says it—dry, clinical, like an upperclassman brushing off a bug—or maybe it’s the slight tilt of her eyes, the kind of stillness that doesn’t feel safe.

Either way—

Ami huffs. Turns.

"Let’s go," she snaps, walking off too fast to look unaffected.

Her shadows follow.

Sakura watches them go. Then returns to her lunch. Unbothered. Bite by bite.

The food is still warm.

Sakura takes another bite. Unhurried. The rice is still warm, the egg perfectly seasoned. Her chopsticks tap lightly against the edge of the bento, steady and precise.

A breeze curls through the courtyard, threading past her ankles. She doesn’t look up—doesn’t need to. The weight of a presence settles just within her periphery.

A pause. Footsteps muted against gravel. Stillness that feels deliberate.

Sasuke-kun.

She sees him from the corner of her eye—lean shoulders, wind-brushed bangs, the unreadable set of his face. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t stop long. Just slows.

A glance.

Their eyes meet. Barely.

Then he’s gone, turning the corner with all the attention of a shadow passing through light.

She exhales through her nose. Not relief. Not exactly. But something clenched loosens in her chest, just slightly.

Then:

“Ughhh… I knew I forgot something.”

The voice hits her like a rock skipping across water—too loud, too sudden, too familiar.

She stiffens.

Naruto.

Dragging his feet across the path, shoulders slouched, hands tucked lazily behind his head. His sandals scuff the stone. His stomach makes an audible complaint.

“Iruka-sensei’s gonna fry our brains, I swear... I forgot my—”

He stops. His eyes—blue, too bright for how tired he looks—land on her lunch box.

“Oh. Sakura-chan! You’re eating!”

Her fingers pause on her chopsticks. Just barely.

“…That’s what people do at lunch,” she says, flatly.

He scratches the back of his head, sheepish. “I forgot mine again.”

“Then go get it.”

“It’s at home,” he whines. “Too far. I’ll starve before I get there…” His eyes drift back to her food like a kicked puppy.

Sakura finally looks at him—properly, this time. His uniform’s half-wrinkled. There’s a smear of ink on his wrist. Dirt on his knees. The breeze tugs at his shirt and the fabric hangs loose, like he forgot to button it properly. Again.

She doesn’t sigh. Not out loud. But her nose twitches faintly. Something itches at her skin.

> [Naruto Uzumaki — Level 4]

Title: [Unlabeled Potential]

Status: Hungry / Persistent / Ostracized

There it is again.

That title.

Unlabeled Potential.

No detail. No explanation. Just that strange, open-ended phrase that never changes—no matter how many times she uses Observe.

It bothers her. More than she’ll admit.

Because he’s loud. He’s obnoxious. He’s annoying in the way only someone truly alone can be.

The other kids roll their eyes when he enters a room. The teachers correct him harder, talk to him shorter. The shopkeepers pause when he walks in. A second longer. As if waiting for something to happen. 

As if he's a thief-to-be-caught.

She never thought about it much. Not really.

But still.

He looks at her lunch again. Hopefully.

"Stop staring.”

“I’m not,” he lies, eyes glinting.

Sakura mutters under her breath. Reaches into her bag—really, her inventory—with the ease of habit.

> [Item: Spare Mebuki Egg Roll – Warm]

> [Give Item?]

[Y]

She flicks it toward him without ceremony.

He fumbles. Then catches it.

“…For real, Sakura-chan?”

She pursed her lips. “Don’t make it weird.”

His grin spreads wide. Too wide.

“You’re the best.”

“I said don’t—”

But he’s already tearing into the egg roll, mumbling around the bite like it’s gourmet cuisine.

She watches him. A boy with nothing. Eating like it’s everything.

She doesn't smile. But she doesn’t scowl either. Just watches, head tilted, chopsticks still in her hand. Somewhere between indifference and something else she can’t name.

The breeze stirs again, carrying the faint smell of broth and market dust. Her food is still warm.

Her shoulders, somehow, don’t feel as tight.

Chapter Text

Sakura sat straight in her seat, pencil already in hand, eyes fixed on the quiz sheet Iruka-sensei had passed around.

Behind her, there was a long, suffering groan.

"Ughhhh," Naruto slumped forward over his desk. "Kiba. Kiba. Lemme copy. Just one glance. Please."

Kiba snorted. "You’re on your own. I failed the last one 'cause of you."

"Both of you," Iruka’s voice cut sharp from the front, barely looking up from his papers. "Bad enough alone. Together? A disaster waiting to happen."

Naruto pouted. “I’m being oppressed.”

More groans rippled from the back rows. Someone thumped their head on a desk dramatically. Sakura didn’t turn around on who did it.

Q1: What is the chakra ratio required to form a stable clone in the Academy Clone Technique?

A: 3 parts physical, 7 parts spiritual

She scribbled the answer with barely a thought.

Q2: What happens if the ratio is incorrect?

A: The clone becomes unstable. It may flicker, lose form, or collapse immediately.

Groans from behind her.

Q3: Why is the Clone Technique not suitable for combat use?

A: Academy clones are intangible. They are illusions and cannot attack or defend.

“Dude, intangible means you can’t touch it, right?” Naruto whispered hoarsely to Kiba, head trying to look in front of him where Sakura is seated two rows ahead.

Sakura twisted her head, green eyes on the blond as if saying—Don't you dare.

Kiba, who had been halfway through drawing a crude doodle in the margin of his paper, smirked and whispered back, “Yeah, duh. Like a ghost.”

"Pst, Sakura-chan." Naruto squinted at his quiz sheet, then whispered, “Then how come Iruka-sensei said the clone can’t fight? If it’s intangible, it should still be able to move, right?”

Sakura slowly turned around in her seat again, eyes half-lidded, pen still tapping silently against her answer sheet. Her stare spoke volumes: Don't involve me in your war against basic logic.

Naruto froze, face caught somewhere between confusion and sheepishness. “Uh—hi?”

Iruka’s voice rang out sharply. “Naruto. Kiba.”

Both boys snapped to attention.

“I’m going to give you both a point just for teamwork,” Iruka said flatly. “And then subtract two for talking and thinking clones are ghosts.”

The class chuckled. Naruto groaned.

Sakura turned back around, one brow twitching.

Naruto leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Still doesn’t explain how they walk…”

Iruka sighed, rubbed his temples, and walked to the chalkboard. “Let’s go over this again. Clone Techniques are illusions. They don’t have mass. They don’t cast shadows. They don’t physically interact with the world. You can’t punch someone with one. You can’t throw birds with one—”

Someone, probably Choji, choked on laughter.

“—and for the last time, Naruto,” Iruka said, voice rising ever so slightly, “just because it looks cool doesn’t mean it can hit anything.”

Q4: How can chakra control improve clone quality?

A: Better control ensures consistent chakra flow, improving visual clarity and duration of the clone.

Iruka didn’t even look up. “Naruto. Kiba. If either of you so much as breathe too loudly, I’ll have you clean the kunai racks again.”

Naruto slumped dramatically onto his paper. “I’m gonna be Hokage, not a test-taker.”

“Then learn to make a clone that doesn’t faint on sight,” Iruka shot back dryly.

Q5: How many clones are required to pass the final test?

A: At least two functional clones that remain stable for 10 seconds.

Sakura circled her answer, underlined it twice for clarity.

She flipped the page, leaned back slightly, and exhaled. Her chakra was calm. Her pencil was sharp. Her answers were correct.

And the murmurs behind her?

Just noise.

Q10: Theoretical Application

"In a mission where stealth is essential and your chakra is low, would you use the Clone Technique to distract an enemy? Justify your answer and propose an alternative if necessary."

Sakura tapped her pencil once, then wrote steadily:

A: No, I would not use the Clone Technique. When chakra is low, even one or two clones strain reserves—especially if you’re trying to keep them stable. Weak clones can flicker, glitch, or vanish too fast to be useful. Worse, if enemy sensors are nearby, sudden chakra flares—even small ones—can give away your location. That defeats the purpose of stealth.

Instead, I would avoid chakra use altogether. Stealth isn’t always about ninjutsu—it’s about being invisible. I’d use environmental misdirection: throw a pebble, disturb some birds, break a twig at a distance. Anything to direct their attention away from me. If the area has dense terrain, I’d move slowly, using shadows and cover to slip past unnoticed.

If I had to use chakra, I'd time it with another distraction—like a loud sound or a collapsing object—to hide the chakra spike from sensory ninja. I'd also place the clone outside their line of sight to avoid visual scrutiny, letting them assume it’s real.

Behind her, Naruto muttered as he tries to look hard, “How do you throw birds?”

Kiba whispered, “I think she meant disturb birds—like make ‘em fly off.”

“Same thing.”

Iruka’s voice was level, but his eyes twitched. “Gentlemen, I assure you: birds are not throwable.”

A pencil snapped quietly somewhere in the back.

Sakura wrote a final sentence:

Stealth is about patience and understanding how others perceive you. That matters more than flashy moves when you’re trying not to die.

She put her pencil down.

Done.

"If you're done, leave it face down on the corner of your desk," Iruka called out from the front, scanning the room with a tired but alert gaze.

Sakura flipped her quiz over with a soft thap and leaned back slightly in her seat, eyes roaming the ceiling. The class was still mostly hunched over paper, pencils scratching, heads bowed. Only a few were stretching or whispering to themselves—Ino tapping her eraser against her cheek, Shikamaru already asleep on his arms, and Naruto now poking Kiba with the back of his pencil.

Sakura exhaled through her nose. She didn't bother to look smug, even if her answer to Question 10 had made her chest tighten a bit.

Not to die, she’d written.

Not “to win,” not “to gain points,” not “to pass a mission.”

To not die.

It was honest. More honest than maybe Iruka was expecting.

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk, watching the shadows of branches flicker through the classroom windows. Her fingers itched—not for a pen or a weapon, but for movement. For something.

One more week.

Then she'd be on a team.

Then it would all start.

And this—classrooms and quizzes and Naruto arguing over clone theory—would just be memories.

The classroom thins out in twos and threes. Bags slap softly against backs, chairs creak as they’re tucked in. The sun filters in low and gold through the windows, catching the soft gloss of Sakura’s pink hair as she smooths it behind one ear.

She’s already halfway through planning her evening—Clone scroll review, mayge one round of chakra control, maybe dinner if her stomach behaves—when she hears it.

“Sakura-chan,” Mizuki calls, light and friendly, like this is just routine.

Her sandals slow on the floor. One breath in, one out. She turns, clutching the strap of her bag a little tighter than necessary.

Mizuki stands near the front, half-shadowed by the doorframe. Alone. Iruka is still preoccupied at his desk with a stack of papers and a loudly complaining Naruto.

“Yes, Mizuki-sensei?” she says, tilting her head just so, bangs brushing her cheek.

He smiles. Not fake, but too perfect. That kind of adult smile you’re supposed to feel grateful for. “A quick word, if you don’t mind.”

Sakura walks over, her expression carefully blank. Not suspicious. Not alert. Just the right blend of polite and harmless. She even presses her feet together like a student trying to impress.

“You’ve been doing well lately,” he says easily. “Your sparring. Your clones. All very impressive.”

She blinks. Then grins—wide, unguarded. Or so it seems. “You really think so?”

Mizuki chuckles. “You’ve improved quickly. Must be practicing outside class.”

“Oh! Not that much.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, letting her shoulders rise. “I mean, I just want to keep up with Sasuke-kun, you know?”

And there it is—the fangirl voice. Bright. Breathier than necessary. Like she’s just another lovesick genin hopeful who only thinks about her future teammate’s dreamy eyes and cool attitude.

As if she wants to be the bearer of the next Uchiha baby.

“I mean, Sasuke-kun’s the top of the class. I’d look so dumb next to him if I didn’t train, right?” She giggles, hand behind her head. “Can’t slow him down!”

Mizuki’s eyes flick. Not quite narrowed. Just measuring.

> [Observe]

[Mizuki — Level ???]

Title: [Chūnin Instructor]

Hidden Trait Detected: [Traitor – Concealed]

Status: Mildly Interested / Probing

“I see,” he says after a beat. “Well, I just wanted to say you’re doing well. Some students stagnate. But not you. You adapt.”

“Ehh, I wouldn’t say that…” she lowers her eyes, voice modest. “I still get stuck on the second clone sometimes. Sasuke-kun does three without even—”

“Still.” His gaze lingers again, too long. “You’re clever, Sakura. Some shinobi take years to spot their weaknesses. You already know yours. That’s a strength.”

She smiles again, bright enough to look real. “Thank you, Sensei!”

But inside, her thoughts are cooling like metal plunged in water.

He’s digging.

And her smile? It’s one she used to give without thinking.

But now? It fits like a borrowed coat. Loose in some places. Tight in others.

Mizuki inclines his head slightly, formal. “You’re dismissed. Have a good afternoon.”

She bows slightly, eyes still wide. “You too, Sensei!”

And then she turns. Walks calmly down the hallway. Doesn’t rush. Doesn’t tense. But the corner of her eye stays alert to the quiet of the hall, the shadows behind the shoji screen.

> [Observation Confirmed – Subject: Mizuki is collecting personal data on select students. Tone: Veiled interest.]

> [Your acting skill has improved.]

> [Deception – Lv. 1 acquired.]

There’s still light out when she gets home, and it clings to the edge of the rooftops like static. Sakura heads straight to her room and shuts the door.

Her back presses to it.

Then she exhales.

Sakura steps into the street. The air is cooler now, late afternoon bleeding into the early signs of dusk. Shadows stretch long over the training ground fences, and her shoes scuff faintly against packed dirt as she walks the narrow road behind the academy.

Her shoulders ease only once the academy is out of sight.

Her fingers twitch briefly at her side. Not from nerves—just habit.

She scrolls through the memory of Mizuki’s face. Too smooth. That off-pause before he complimented her. Like he expected something in return.

She exhales through her nose.

“Whatever,” she mutters.

And then: a growl.

Low. Close.

She stops.

Ahead, at the bend in the alley near the back fence, something white and furry crouches low to the ground. Teeth bared. Hackles up.

“…Akamaru?” she guesses.

The pup growls louder in response, fixated on the narrow space between two trash bins. His usual fluffball friendliness is gone—ears flat, body tense.

There’s no Kiba in sight.

Sakura approaches, careful steps. Her eyes flick to the alley shadows. Nothing's there.

“What’s wrong?”

She crouches beside him. Her pink hair swings forward, brushing her cheek. From this close, she can hear Akamaru’s breathing—low, steady. A guard dog’s focus.

Then: a rustle. 

Something darts out between the bins.

An explosion of brown fur bolts across the street—yowling. Sakura jolts back.

“What the—?!"

A cat.

Big, scrawny, striped brown with a big red bow in its ear and a bell around its neck. It vanishes under a cart so fast it leaves her hair fluttering.

Akamaru barks furiously and lunges—only to skid to a halt, nose twitching.

Sakura stands slowly, dusting herself off. “A cat?”

> [Unknown Creature Detected – No Entry Found in Field Guide]

[Observation Incomplete]

“Akamaru!”

Kiba’s voice bounces off the walls a second later. He rounds the corner, panting.

“There you—oh. Haruno?”

Back to Haruno now that he didn't need her to bust his ass off from his mom, huh?

She raises a brow. “Your dog was about to start a war with a cat.”

“Not just any cat,” Kiba mutters, stepping closer. “It’s like the devil in fur. You see the size of that thing?”

Sakura crosses her arms. “I didn’t get a good look. Too busy dodging.”

Akamaru growls low again, but it’s more embarrassed than aggressive now.

Sakura eyes the direction the cat vanished. “It had a bell on its collar and a big red bow on one ear. Someone owns it.”

“Poor soul,” Kiba says under his breath.

Then, louder: “Thanks. I’ve been chasing him since lunch.”

She pauses. “You skipped class to chase your dog?”

“I skipped lunch period,” he defends. “Which I earned.”

Sakura snorts.

He rubs the back of his neck, then nods toward the street. “Anyway. You heading home?”

“Eventually.” She adjusts the strap of her bag.

He grins. “Serious time, huh?”

She ignores the jab and turns. “Later, Inuzuka.”

As she walks, she keeps half an ear trained behind her. Kiba whistles for Akamaru. The barks fade with distance.

Sakura clicks her tongue.

“Weird,” she mutters—and heads home.

The roads near the academy grow quieter the farther she walks.

Fewer kids, fewer voices. Just the gentle thud of her sandals and the occasional creak of a shop shutter being pulled down for the evening.

Sakura tucks her hands into her sleeves. The sky’s cooling fast—hints of lavender edging the clouds. The weight of the day settles on her shoulders, not heavy, just present. Her muscles feel it.

Her brain definitely does.

She’s halfway down the lane lined with plum trees when she spots a familiar figure ahead. Brownish-pink hair. Broad shoulders. A bit of a slouch, like he’s already halfway in his seat at the dinner table.

“Dad?” she calls, blinking.

Kizashi pauses and turns. His mustache twitches.

“Sakura—pumpkin?” His face lights up. “Hey! You’re just getting out?”

She jogs to catch up, bag bouncing against her hip. “You’re out early.”

“Supervisor let us go after a field inspection finished ahead of schedule,” he says, stretching one arm behind his back with a wince. “Probably just wanted us out before we started asking for overtime.”

She glances up at him sidelong. “You didn’t ask for it, right?”

“I’m not stupid,” he grins. “Your mother would divorce me.”

A breeze passes. Sakura’s hair flutters against her cheek. 

They walk side by side for a few quiet steps. His work boots thud heavier than hers.

“How was school?” he asks finally.

She shrugs. “Fine.”

Kizashi squints at her. “That kind of ‘fine’ that means nothing happened, or the kind that means something did happen and you’re not telling me?”

“…The second one.”

He lets out a knowing hmm. But doesn’t push. Just scratches his head.

She watches the way his tie is still tucked properly into his vest. The faint oil smudge near his cuff. Same as always. Dad things.

He glances down at her. “You hungry?”

“I ate lunch.”

“Was it still warm when you ate it?”

She blinks. That’s a weirdly specific question.

“Kind of,” she says because her [Inventory] is a cheat where it stores the item with the exact same condition it went. “Maybe.”

He grins. “Your mom made curry last night. Might have leftovers again.”

Sakura perks up a little at that.

They walk a while longer. Lamps begin to flicker on above the doors they pass, casting puddles of amber across the road.

Kizashi clears his throat suddenly. “You know… I was proud.”

She looks up.

He’s not smiling now. Just watching the road ahead. Hands in his pockets.

“At the drills last week,” he says. “When you said you won at a spar."

She swallows. Eyes forward. Her hands twitch a little inside her sleeves. Not from embarrassment. Not exactly.

Just… pressure. Something growing, invisible.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

He pats her shoulder once. “Keep going.”

Then, quieter: “And eat more. You’re small.”

“Dad.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking.

They turn onto their street. The smell of rice and oil already drifting out from the kitchen window of home.

And for a little while, Sakura lets herself just walk beside him, footsteps syncing with her father’s like it’s always been this simple.

“How was work?”

Kizashi groans. “Long. Civil archive sorting all morning. Then a sealing accident with the mail cart. Someone packed three exploding tags next to the delivery order. Again.”

“Again?”

He gives her a look. “It’s always the same clan. Starts with an H, ends with ‘Hyuga.’ So neat it’s dangerous.”

She snorts. “And the explosion?”

“Minor,” he waves it off. “Mostly noise. Burned the edge of my pants.”

They reach home with the scent of spices already drifting into the street. The porch light clicks on as they step up.

Mebuki is at the door before they knock. Arms crossed. “You’re both late.”

Sakura holds up her hands. “School.”

Kizashi does the same. “Work.”

“Excuses,” Mebuki mutters, then sighs and moves aside to let them in.

Dinner is warm curry—meat, potatoes, carrots, and rice. Comfort food. Sakura sits between them at the table, hair tied back now, sleeves rolled just above her wrists.

“So,” Mebuki starts as they dig in. “Anything happen today?”

Kizashi jumps in first. “I nearly lost a case to a sugar-rush genin. Your cousin’s squad came by the hall again.”

“They’re not my cousins,” Mebuki says dryly. “Just because we share a family name doesn’t mean they have manners.”

Sakura listens as they banter. She chews slowly. The food is good tonight. Subtly spiced. A bit more heat than usual.

Mebuki turns to her. “You’ve been staying after class more lately.”

Sakura shrugs. “We’re practicing clone techniques. I want to get it right.”

Kizashi hums. “Is it tougher now?”

“A bit,” Sakura says. “We’re expected to do more since the exam is near. Better chakra control. More speed.”

Mebuki glances over. “You’ve been eating your lunch, right? You looked pale yesterday.”

“I’m eating,” Sakura says, a bit quickly. “I bring lunch every day.”

“Good,” her mother says, then adds more rice to her plate. “You’re still growing.”

Kizashi leans back. “When I was your age, I got stuck doing academy drills with a broken toe. Still passed.” Yet he's now a civilian merchant after getting her mom pregnant. 

“Please don’t give her bad ideas,” Mebuki says. “She’ll take it as a challenge.”

Sakura smiles faintly into her curry.

Kizashi looks over again, more curious this time. “What about your classmates? Who’s at the top right now?”

“Sasuke-kun,” she answers automatically because she did always talk about him even back then.

He raises an eyebrow. “And?”

She pauses. “Hopefully, I'm… not far behind?”

Her parents exchange a glance. Not teasing. Not pressing. Just silently filing the answer away.

Dinner stretches a bit longer. Mebuki brings out pickled daikon. Kizashi ends up telling a story about a failed transformation jutsu where someone turned into a goat.

The mood is easy.

When the food’s gone and the tea is poured, Sakura leans into the quiet.

Home smells like ginger and clean laundry. Her mother’s hands move quickly, cleaning bowls. Her father hums softly while stacking dishes.

She tucks that moment into memory, too.

Later, she says her goodnights and climbs the stairs to her room.

The hallway is dim, the wooden floor cool under her feet. Her room greets her with silence. Familiar shadows stretch long across the floor as the moonlight filters in, brushing silver over her desk, her stacked notebooks, the little pile of folded towels she forgot to put away.

She closes the door with a soft click. Pauses. Breathes in.

Dinner still lingers in the air—ginger, curry, the faintest hint of soy sauce. It mingles with the smell of her sheets, her old ink pots, the barely-there trace of shampoo.

The kind of lived-in scent that doesn’t really register unless you’ve been gone a while. Or unless you’ve come back changed.

She shrugs off her uniform top, leaves it neatly folded on the back of her chair. Then sits down on her bed cross-legged, rolling her shoulders once. Twice.

Her muscles are still buzzing—not sore, not tense, but charged. Like her chakra hasn't fully settled from earlier.

Sakura closes her eyes and exhales.

> Skill: Intermediate Clone Technique

Chakra Cost: 10

Status: Ready

She doesn’t need to open her inventory. She doesn’t need to read a scroll or even train it carefully.

The knowledge is already there—etched into the rhythm of her hands, the flow in her gut. She brings her fingers into the familiar seal.

The moment her chakra flares, it’s like a thread snapping taut.

Poof. Poof.

Two clones appear in neat clouds of smoke, one to each side. The mist curls low around the bedframe before clearing.

They look like her. Exactly like her. Not like the old flickering illusions from before—flat and weightless. These clones breathe. One shifts its stance. The other adjusts the edge of its sleeve.

Their eyes follow hers in perfect sync, almost unsettling.

She blinks. “Whoa.”

The silence in the room changes. Not louder, exactly, but fuller. The weight of two extra presences, faint as they are, alters the air. 

She can feel them. Knows she could command them to move, duck, defend, mimic a strike. She hasn’t even practiced directing them yet, but the technique's skeleton is already familiar. Like her mind has always had space for it, and now it’s finally occupied.

"This is cheating," she mutters under her breath .

Her chakra dips.

> [Warning: Chakra Low – 5/22]

Sakura stares at them. They stare back.

Then one speaks.

"You look tired," it says. Her voice, her inflection. Just a notch off. “You shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You’re not even trying to pace yourself,” says the other. “Are you trying to impress someone?”

The first one folds her arms. “Or maybe you think pain means progress.”

Sakura stiffens. “You're not real.”

“We’re you,” they say together.

> [Warning: Chakra Low – 4/22]

Her breath catches. Her vision trembles at the edges.

“Shut up,” she mutters. “I just wanted to test—”

“But you already know it works,” one clone says softly. “So why are you still doing it?”

Sakura’s fingers curl at her sides. She doesn't answer.

The clones don’t laugh. They just stand there. Not aggressive. Not mocking. Just present.

She blinks—and her knees buckle.

The world shifts on its axis.

> [Warning: Chakra Critically Low – 1/22]

The clones vanish instantly—just smoke now. Empty and light.

She drops hard onto her side, barely cushioning her fall with one hand. Her bed is right there. But her limbs feel full of sand. Her breath is shallow.

Her head lolls against the bed, cheek pressed against it. Her vision pulses.

From somewhere downstairs, she hears a voice.

Faint. Distant.

“Sakura?”

A pause. Footsteps creak against the floorboards.

“…Sakura?”

Mebuki’s voice again. Louder now. Concern threading through the syllables.

But Sakura doesn’t answer.

She’s already slipping.

> You have passed out.

Chakra recovery in progress…

[HP: 50/50]

[Chakra: 1/22 → regenerating]

The door creaks open.

“Sakura?”

Mebuki peers inside, hand still resting on the doorframe. The curtains are cracked open, letting in a faint breeze and the last scraps of moonlight. It takes a second to spot her daughter—half-on, half-off the bed, face planted square into the blanket like she gave up mid-motion.

“Sakura?”

Still nothing.

Mebuki steps closer, eyeing the discarded jacket near the desk, the scuffed sandals just inside the doorway. Her eyes narrow. She moves the chair out of the way and crosses the room.

“Honestly,” she mutters, crouching down to unfasten Sakura’s shoes. “At least pull the blanket over yourself.”

She tugs them off, one by one, then straightens and drapes the edge of the blanket over Sakura’s legs.

Her daughter doesn’t stir. Not a twitch.

Mebuki pauses, glancing once more at the awkward sprawl, the faint sheen of sweat at Sakura’s temple.

“Hmph.”

She brushes a few strands of hair away from her daughter’s cheek. Her fingers pause, just briefly, against the warmth of her skin.

Then she stands.

Closes the door on her way out.

Outside the room, the hallway light hums softly. The house settles.

And Sakura stays exactly where she is—unmoving, still in her uniform, her face buried deep into the mattress, breath shallow but steady.

She looks like she fell asleep without thinking.

Which is exactly what it needs to look like.

> [Status: Chakra 3/22 — Regenerating]

[Condition: Exhausted. Sleep mode: Deep]

[You will not wake unless disturbed.]

The wind nudges the curtains.

And time moves.

Chapter Text

The world returns slowly.

A dull, dragging weight sits behind her eyes, like her dreams crawled out of her skull and left sludge behind.

Sakura shifts.

Something aches between her shoulder blades. Her cheek is plastered to the blanket—she’d faceplanted into bed last night and never moved. Still in uniform. Collar twisted.

Her body feels wrong. Heavy. Sluggish. Her chakra, usually a low thrum beneath her ribs, is a trickle. Barely noticeable.

Then, the familiar flicker of text:

> [Status Effect Applied: Chakra Exhaustion]

– Chakra regeneration halved for the next 24 hours.

– All active skills cost +2 Chakra to cast.

– Debuff duration: [23:42 remaining]

– Warning: Continued overuse may result in injury or burnout.

She exhales slowly, burying her face deeper into the mattress.

“Right,” she mutters. “Because I’m such a genius.”

The clones. The scroll. Two at once—stupid. Even with the skill learned, she should’ve paced it. Measured. Tested the limit of one before pushing to three.

But she’d felt it. The clarity. The absolute knowing. The temptation to see how far she could go.

Now she could barely lift her arm.

> [Suggestion: Engage in passive recovery. Avoid combat or chakra-intensive tasks today.]

Sakura sits up, slow and uneven. Her hair is a mess—pink strands sticking out at angles from how she collapsed last night. Her head swims a little when she moves.

> [HP: 50/50]

[Chakra: 10/22 — Regenerating (reduced)]

[Status: Light-headed / Chakra Exhaustion (Active)]

She blinks at the text. Then squints at the curtains.

Outside, morning’s already in full swing.

She’s late.

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and immediately regrets it.

Her knees throb. Not sharp pain—just a deep, tired ache in the joints. Her arms feel like wet towels wrung out too tight. Her back complains the second she straightens.

Not even bruises. Just fatigue, dense and clinging.

She rolls her shoulders. Winces.

> [Status: Muscle Fatigue – Moderate]

Residual strain from overexertion. Recovery in progress...

She sighs. “Geez…”

Normally, she’d have run by now. A slow jog before breakfast. A few sprints at the training ground. Even a ten-minute chakra breathing set just to wake her up.

But today?

She can barely shuffle to her desk without muttering curses under her breath.

> [Daily Routine Skipped: Morning Physical Training]

Note: Repeated absence may reduce DEX growth rate.

Suggestion: Passive stretching to maintain stat balance.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters. “I get it.”

The system isn’t wrong. But it doesn’t have legs that feel like firewood. Her pride prickles. She hates missing routines. She hates feeling weak.

Still—there’s no forcing this.

She leans against her desk and rests her cheek on the cool wood. Letting the stiffness settle. Letting the exhaustion hum low in her bones.

Outside, she can hear her mother in the kitchen. Dishes clinking. Someone humming off-key—probably her dad.

She should get up.

But for now, she just lies there. Miserable, quiet, and very aware that this is entirely her own fault.

She finally drags herself down the stairs, limbs stiff and steps heavier than usual. The kitchen light is warm—too warm—and her eyes squint against it.

Mebuki is already plating food. Kizashi is sipping tea, skimming the village paper with his usual dramatic frown.

“Morning,” she mumbles, pulling out her chair.

Her mother turns. “Sakura?”

Mebuki’s tone is sharp enough to cut.

“You look pale,” she says, setting a plate in front of her. “And you’re late. You always come down before your father even after you go on a run.”

Kizashi peers over the top of his paper. “That’s true. You’re the rooster of this house.”

Sakura waves him off weakly and sinks into her seat. “Didn’t sleep great.”

> [Status Ailment: Chakra Exhaustion – Mild]

Effect: -2 DEX, -1 STR, -10% Chakra Regeneration for the Day

Recovery Estimate: 18 Hours (Passive)

Suggestion: Avoid high output jutsu. Hydrate. Eat high-protein meals.

She blinks at the pop-up. Doesn’t even have the energy to scoff.

Mebuki sits across from her and folds her arms. “You didn’t train in the middle of the night again, did you?”

“No,” Sakura lies. “Just… clone practice. Normal stuff.”

“Clone practice,” Kizashi echoes, shaking his head. “In my day, we had to learn that with chalk and yelling.”

Mebuki doesn’t laugh. She watches Sakura closely as she starts poking at her breakfast. Rice, steamed greens, a fried egg. No appetite.

“You're barely touching your breakfast,” her mother says quietly. “You’re pushing too hard again.”

Sakura shrugs. “It’s the Academy. Everyone’s pushing hard.”

“I’m not everyone’s mother,” Mebuki snaps. “I’m yours.”

There’s a pause.

Sakura forces herself to eat—small bites, chewing slow. Her stomach doesn’t protest, exactly. But everything feels like moving through molasses.

Her father passes her a cup of warm barley tea.

“Don’t burn out, okay?” he says, voice lighter. “You’re not running a mission. You’re twelve.”

“Twelve and top of her class,” Mebuki mutters.

“Barely,” Sakura replies, then winces. “I mean—not—ugh.”

Her mother raises a brow. “Did something happen?”

Sakura hesitates. She pictures the clones in her room last night. The pressure of chakra leaving her all at once. The way her system had blinked its little warning after she hit the bed face-first.

“Nothing important,” she says finally. “Just… miscalculated something. I’ll be fine.”

Mebuki doesn’t look convinced. But she doesn’t push.

Kizashi watches them both, then changes the subject to some absurd mission record he read about in the paper—something about a genin who fainted during a fake hostage rescue drill.

It’s quiet after that. Sakura finishes her plate, sips her tea, and tries not to let her hands shake when she reaches for her bento.

But the second her mother’s back turns—

> [Inventory: +1 Item]

– Bento (Packed Lunch)

Her hand never reaches the fridge. She taps the bento box with her fingertips like she’s setting it down, but it vanishes with a soft glimmer only she can see. No noise. No flash. Just clean and gone.

She exhales.

> [Inventory: 5 Items]

– Bento (Packed Lunch)

– Extra Basic Kunai (x3)

– Academy Notebook

Sakura stretches slightly, letting out a yawn. “Gonna shower.”

Mebuki just grunts from the other room. “Don’t take forever.”

The bathroom mirror catches her reflection: tired eyes, a faint crease on her cheek from where her face hit the bed, and her bangs slightly out of place.

She pulls her hair up, splashes water on her face, and stands there a minute longer than usual. Not to admire. Just to breathe.

Her limbs still ache. The warning from earlier still hovers faintly at the edge of her vision, like a whispered reminder not to overdo it.

By the time she’s clean, dressed, and tying her hair back neatly, the worst of the fog has lifted.

Mostly.

She swings her bag onto one shoulder and steps into her sandals at the door. Mebuki’s voice calls out from the kitchen: “No training until after school.”

Sakura makes a noncommittal sound.

Her father waves over the top of the newspaper again. “Don’t pass out in class.”

“No promises,” she mutters, closing the door behind her.

The morning air is brisk. Clouds hang low but bright. And the village streets are already filled with chatter, footsteps, and the clatter of shop signs being flipped to OPEN.

Sakura tucks her hands into her sleeves and starts walking.

The path to the Academy is mostly muscle memory by now—turn at the rice vendor, cut across the carpenter’s lot, avoid the puddle that never dries even in summer.

Sakura walks it half-asleep.

She yawns behind her sleeve, eyes squinting up at the overcast sky.

> [Status Effect: Chakra Fatigue]

– Max Chakra temporarily reduced by 5

– Stamina Recovery: Slowed

– Skill Efficiency: -10%

She blinks blearily at the floating text before it fades. Her joints ache. The stretch between her shoulder blades keeps pulsing like she slept on a log.

“Ugh,” she mutters to herself, rubbing at her arm. “I feel like I got steamrolled.”

Another yawn forces its way out before she can stop it. She doesn’t even bother to cover this one.

A few early shopkeepers eye her with bland disinterest. She walks past them unnoticed, uncaring.

The village is too busy with its own rhythm—brooms swishing on wooden steps, hawkers calling prices, the faint creak of the postman’s bike.

She adjusts her strap, feels the invisible weight of her inventory. Her packed lunch nestled neatly inside. Safe. Hidden. Just in case.

Somewhere nearby, a cat yowls and a kid screams about being late. Classic.

She exhales again, nose wrinkling. "Geez… I didn’t even get to run today."

The lack of routine leaves a strange emptiness in her steps. Like a skipped beat.

She presses her thumb against her palm, focusing briefly, and senses the sluggish chakra swirling beneath the skin.

Still drained.

Still there.

“…Just don’t pass out,” she murmurs, half to herself, half to whatever lingering system is listening. “That’d be great.”

Up ahead, the Academy building rises like always. Too square. Too gray. Too ready to start another day.

Sakura yawns again and trudges forward. She drags her feet past the front gate, eyes half-lidded, trying to will herself into wakefulness.

That’s when she nearly bumps into someone rounding the corridor corner.

“Watch it.”

Sasuke.

Wait, no.

Sasuke-kun.

He steps aside without looking directly at her, hands tucked in his pockets like always. His hair is as annoyingly perfect as usual, collar high, expression unreadable.

Sakura blinks. Straightens.

“Oh—Sasuke-kun!”

She tries to snap into posture, or at least decency, but her shoulders ache and her hair’s still slightly damp at the ends. She’s pretty sure one sock is twisted in her sandal.

He doesn’t stop walking.

Just keeps going, a quiet presence that pulls at her focus even when he’s moving away.

She watches the back of his head for a beat too long.

Then—

“Yo!”

A hand slaps down on her shoulder.

"Gaaah!” she jumps, whirling.

Naruto grins at her, lopsided and chipper despite the bags under his eyes and the faint crust of sleep in the corner of one lid. He yawns right after. “Man, you look like crap too, Sakura-chan.”

“…Thank you."

Well appreciated.

He scratches the back of his head. “Forgot my lunch again. Think I saw a half-eaten onigiri behind the vending machine. Might just risk it.”

Sakura stares.

He stares back.

“Joking. Sorta.”

He's definitely not.

There’s a weird pause—awkward, but not tense. He tilts his head at her slightly. “You okay?”

“…Fine.”

“You sure? You’re walking like an old lady.”

She exhales through her nose. “I’m just sore.”

Naruto nods solemnly. “You trained?”

She gives the barest of shrugs. “Something like that.”

“Cool.” He bounces on his heels a bit, like he’s trying to wake up fully. “Hey, want to ditch class and prank someone?”

“…What?”

“C’mon. You look like you need a break.”

She stares at him, torn between confusion and the tiniest flicker of—what even is that? Amusement?

“I’ll pass.”

He pouts. “Your loss.”

Naruto heads somewhere, whistling something off-key. Sakura exhales, shifts her bag, and follows—steps slower, but maybe just a little lighter than before.

"Where are you goin—augh, never mind." She mutters to herself. It's Naruto for God's sake.

By the time she slips into the classroom, half the seats are already filled.

The buzz of morning chatter rolls over her like a wave—chairs scraping, someone laughing too loud, Ino whisper-yelling about hairclips to one of the girls up front.

Sakura makes her way to her usual seat near the window, careful not to wince as her muscles protest. Her legs feel like rubber, and there's a tight pull in her shoulders that makes her sit straighter than usual just to avoid it pinching.

She sighs inwardly.

"Someone had a rough morning," Ino sing-songs, plopping down behind her.

Sakura blinks at her. “Huh?”

“You didn’t even look at Sasuke-kun when you went in. Also—your hair’s frizzy. Did you oversleep?”

“No,” Sakura says automatically. “Just...trained a lot yesterday. That’s all.”

Ino pauses, studying her face like she’s trying to decode something, then shrugs. “Guess that explains it. You look like you wrestled a bear and then fell down the stairs.”

Sakura opens her mouth to snap something back—but then her limbs ache just thinking about it.

She settles for a quiet glare instead.

At the front of the room, Mizuki-sensei enters—smiling, too smooth, as always. Iruka’s a step behind him, looking a bit more serious than usual.

“Alright,” Iruka says, clapping his hands once. “Seats. Settle down.”

Sakura lets her chin rest on her palm, eyes half-lidded. Mizuki’s eyes scan the room briefly. They pause on her—just for a second.

She doesn’t blink.

Just lets herself look sleepy and average.

Harmless.

The boy in front of her sneezes. Someone in the back drops a pencil. It’s all so normal it almost aches.

Iruka starts talking about the upcoming assessments. Something about basic survival training simulations next week.

Sakura jots notes down slowly. She can feel the bento box quietly stored in her inventory, humming just at the edge of her awareness.

At least lunch would be warm. If she made it that far without crashing again.

“…and that’s why team coordination will be part of the mid-term evaluations,” Iruka finishes, tapping the blackboard with the end of his chalk. “You’ll be split into temporary groups starting next week.”

A groan ripples through the classroom.

Sakura straightens, just a little. Coordination?

> [New Notification]

Side Quest Available: [Earn a Leadership Role in Group Trial]

Objective: Rank as top performer in temporary group evaluations.

Reward: +200 EXP, +1 Stat Point, Passive Skill Unlock (TBD)

Accept Quest? [Y/N]

She mentally selects: Y.

Ami, two rows to the left, makes a show of stretching and yawning. “Hope I don’t get paired with dead weight,” she mutters. Loudly.

Ino immediately retorts, “You’ll drag them down anyway.”

The class snickers.

Sakura doesn’t join in. Her body still aches, and the fatigue makes the noise feel distant, like she’s underwater. Even so, she narrows her eyes slightly. Ami is already looking back at her. Measuring. She’s still sore about yesterday.

But whatever comeback Sakura might have offered gets derailed as the door slides open again.

Late.

“Sorry I’m late!” Naruto Uzumaki barrels in with a sheepish grin and a cloud of dust. “I tripped over—uh, a cat! Yeah, a cat!”

Iruka sighs. “Sit down, Naruto.”

“Right, right—!”

Naruto scampers to his usual seat—near the back, near the window, not far from Sakura’s—and slumps down dramatically, arms crossed over his stomach.

“…So hungry,” he mumbles under his breath, head dropping onto his desk. “Forgot my lunch again…”

Sakura’s eyes flick to him sideways.

He smells like sun and sweat and tree sap. Like always. A warm, human mess. She squints slightly—and the Observe system flashes for a moment.

> [Naruto Uzumaki — Level 4]

HP: 60/60

Chakra: ???

Title: [Unlabeled Potential]

Status: Hungry / Ignored / Annoyed

The ??? is new.

She blinks, then looks away quickly. No one else notices.

Of course they don’t.

Iruka’s talking again. Something about chakra theory. Her notes from yesterday are still in her bag, but she doesn’t move to take them out.

Instead, she glances again at Naruto, who’s now whispering animatedly to himself about ramen, his stomach audibly growling every few minutes.

He’s alone.

Sakura wonders, just briefly, what would happen if she offered him half of her lunch again later.

Then, as if summoned by that thought, Naruto suddenly turns and catches her eye.

She flinches. Not visibly—but enough that her muscles twitch from the movement.

He blinks.

Then grins. Bright and stupid and clueless.

She blinks back. Says nothing.

Naruto turns around again, still mumbling about miso broth. Sakura exhales slowly. Then starts taking notes again.

The moment the bell rings, students start rising from their seats, scraping chairs and chatting loudly. Ino’s already halfway across the room to Shikamaru’s desk, while Choji pulls out a paper bag stuffed with chips. Shikamaru just lays his head on the table with a groan.

Sakura stretches her arms with a soft sigh.

> [Status Effect: Chakra Exhaustion – Lingering]

Debuff: -10% Physical Movement Efficiency

Debuff: -10% Chakra Recovery Rate (Duration: 6 Hours)

Advice: Avoid combat or clone-based techniques until recovery. Hydration recommended.

She rolls her neck. “Ugh…”

Her limbs still feel sluggish. Not unbearable, but enough that she has to walk a little slower just to avoid wobbling. Her balance is off. Her thoughts feel… one breath behind her own brain.

Still, as everyone funnels toward the courtyard or their usual spots, she quietly slips her hand under her desk.

> [Inventory → Bento Box: Remove Item?]

[Y/N]

---

[✔ Item placed in Sleeve Pocket]

She pretends to pull it from her bag. No one notices the difference. Even when Kiba strolls past and pauses.

“Yo, forehead,” he says.

Sakura blinks at him. “That’s not my name.”

“I know,” he grins, sharp and careless. “Just checking if you’re awake. You looked half-dead all morning.”

“…I’m alive.”

“Debatable,” Shino adds, not even looking up from his book as he passes by.

Kiba snorts. “Come eat outside. Fresh air helps, you know.”

She raises a brow.

“You’re inviting me?”

“Why not? You’re not that annoying.”

“…Thanks?”

He shrugs, already heading out.

She hesitates. Just briefly. She's not the same Sakura before—it's amazing how people can change around her the moment she started to change.

Yet despite all of that, Sakura wants nothing more than to get stronger.

Then follows.

Outside, the sun’s gentler than yesterday. A breeze drifts past, shifting the leaves. Some kids eat under trees. Others stick to the covered porch.

Kiba’s sprawled out near the fence under some shade, already halfway into his lunch. Shino’s nearby, silent as always. 

Sakura sits carefully on the grass. Keeps her posture straight despite the way her spine wants to melt.

The food smells good. Still warm, thanks to the system timer.

She’s mid-bite when—

“AHHH I’M GONNA DIEEEEEE!”

Naruto’s voice cuts through the air like a banshee wail. Heads turn. He’s standing near the school wall, both hands on his stomach.

“No lunch again?!” Kiba yells.

“NO, OKAY?! I was gonna make one but then Iruka-sensei’s cat—or his neighbor’s cat—ate my eggs!”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Naruto stomps toward the shade, dropping dramatically to the grass with a pitiful whine. He flops over on his side, limbs splayed.

“I just want ramen…”

Sakura stares.

> [Naruto Uzumaki – Status Updated]

Condition: Slight Dizziness / Low Blood Sugar

Chakra: ???

Stomach: Growling Intensifies

He sits up after a second and makes eye contact with her again.

She freezes, a piece of pickled plum halfway to her mouth.

“You eating curry?” he asks bluntly. “That smells like curry. Wait—rice and curry?!”

Yes, all of it are leftovers.

She doesn’t reply. But she doesn’t break eye contact either.

Then…

She holds out one side of the box. “Eat some before you pass out.”

Naruto’s jaw drops.

“No way—seriously?!”

“I’ll change my mind in three seconds.”

He lunges forward with cartoonish speed. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.”

Kiba’s wheezing. Shino looks up once.

Naruto devours three bites like a starving dog before pausing and blinking. “Wait. This is really good. Whoa, you made this?”

“My mom did.”

“She’s amazing.”

Sakura just hums. Barely a smile.

But in the corner of her screen:

> [Karma +2]

[Relationship Update: Naruto Uzumaki – Acquaintance → Slightly Familiar]

[Trait Progression: Compassion +1]

...

Also, [Status Effect: Chakra Exhaustion] slightly eased due to mood elevation.

She blinks. Huh.

Maybe helping idiots burns less energy than ignoring them.

Sakura settles on the grass again, bento on her lap, chewing slowly as Naruto dramatically inhales the curry side of her lunch like he’s been starved for weeks.

Across from her, Kiba licks a smear of sauce off his thumb, then gestures with his chopsticks.

“You know,” he says, squinting at her, “you’re different lately.”

> [Kiba Inuzuka – Level 6]

Title: [Inazuka Alpha's Son]

HP: 82/82 | Chakra: 31/60

Status: Relaxed / Curious

Affinity: Earth (?) / Beastbond – Active

Partner: Akamaru (Not Present)

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she replies flatly.

Kiba shrugs. “Not bad. Just weird. Last week you wouldn’t have sat within three feet of Naruto.”

She glances sideways.

Naruto’s still chewing.

> [Naruto Uzumaki – Level 4]

Title: [Unlabeled Potential]

HP: 60/60 | Chakra: ???

Status: Grateful / Hungry

Mood: Improving

Affinity: ???

He catches her staring and flashes her a huge grin, rice stuck to the corner of his mouth.

“Your mom is like… top-tier mom. Do you think she takes orders? I’ll pay! Eventually.”

“You don’t have money.”

“Okay but in the future I might.”

Sakura sighs and returns to her meal. She nudges her rice with her chopsticks, ignoring the way Naruto makes heart eyes at the last meatball like it’s sacred.

> [New Quest Unlocked!]

Title: Feeding the Unfortunate

Objective: Bring Naruto Food Daily (0/5)

Duration: 5 Consecutive Academy Days

Reward: +150 EXP, Relationship Boost (Naruto), Mystery Bento Add-On (x1)

Failure Penalty: None (Naruto will be sad)

Accept? [Yes] / [No]

She stares at the pop-up. Then at Naruto, who is now licking sauce off the inside of the lid with a terrifying lack of shame.

She presses [Yes].

Because of course she does.

Shino speaks without looking up from his lunch, which is methodically packed and eaten with quiet precision.

“She’s been improving in class. Notably. Two-point-eight percent uptick in sparring efficiency. Higher than standard curve.”

> [Aburame Shino – Level 8]

Title: [Bug Tamer]

HP: 75/75 | Chakra: 40/70

Status: Observing / Focused

Trait: Analytical

Affinity: Insect Swarm – Passive / Active

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Sakura mutters.

Shino lifts his head just slightly. “Then speak.”

Naruto laughs. “Man, you guys are weird.”

“You’re the one who yelled about dying of hunger five minutes ago,” Kiba retorts.

One of the civilian students sitting a few meters away glances over, whispering something behind a hand. Another snickers.

> [Kiyoshi – Level 3]

Title: [Academy Background Fodder]

Mood: Dismissive / Amused

Status: Chatting behind backs

Gossiping → Naruto

Sakura notices. Naruto doesn’t.

Or maybe he does and just pretends not to.

The whispering doesn’t stop until Kiba shoots a sharp look their way, eyes narrowed. Sakura blinks. She didn't expect that.

> [Relationship Update: Kiba Inuzuka – +1]

Trait Observation: Loyalty (Pack-Oriented)

She files it away.

Her stomach feels full. Her chakra bar still sucks, but the headache is lighter than earlier. Her arms don’t shake.

> [Status Effect: Chakra Exhaustion – Lingering (5 hrs)]

Mild Alleviation: Mood Buff (Companionship)

Physical Efficiency: -8%

Chakra Regeneration: -7%

Naruto finally flops back on the grass, both hands on his belly. “Man, I’m stuffed. You’re a lifesaver.”

Sakura raises a brow. “It was only like four bites.”

“Best four bites of my life.”

He’s grinning again. Not the loud kind—just the simple kind. The kind that doesn't seem to ask for anything.

Kiba leans back on his palms. “Okay, who wants to bet Iruka-sensei assigns us theory work again after lunch?”

Shino doesn't look up. “Statistically high probability.”

Naruto groans.

Sakura sighs.

The breeze rustles through the leaves again. Kids laugh in the distance. The sun keeps them warm.

> [Temporary Buff: Companionship]

Effect: Slight Chakra Recovery Boost (+1 regen/hour for 2 hours)

Mood: Neutral → Slightly Elevated

---

…

Progress: Social Integration – Incremental

For once, she doesn’t feel like rushing ahead.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

Monday.

She shoved the wrapped bento into Naruto’s chest before he could even say anything. “Eat it before you do something stupid.”

He blinked. “...You cooked for me?”

“No. I packed food for you. There’s a difference.”

> [Feeding the Dope Progress: 1/5]

Tuesday.

Naruto tried to sneak into the classroom late again. Sakura caught him by the collar and shoved a warm container into his hands.

“Try to sit through one full lecture,” she muttered.

Kiba whistled low, head poking to them as he sniffs. Akamaru barks cutely while Sakura pats his head. “Heh. Naruto’s got a fan.”

“I will end you.”

> [Feeding the Dope Progress: 2/5]

Wednesday

Sakura almost forgot. Almost. She's tired from passing out of chakra exhaustion yesterday. 

It was a bad idea to do more than 3 clones at the same time with her measly and pathetic chakra reserves.

She sprinted down the street with her hair half-tied and her shoes still damp from morning dew, clutching the hastily packed bento like a mission scroll. It was still warm, at least.

She could put it in her [Inventory] but decided not to. Naruto was half-asleep at his desk when she shoved it onto the table in front of him. He blinkd down at it, then up at her. “...You really didn’t have to.”

“I know.” She crossed her arms. “And yet, here we are.”

A beat passed. Then Naruto grinned—just a little. “Thanks.”

She turned her head, pretending to look at the window.

> [Feeding the Dope Progress: 3/5]

A soft chime rang in her ear, but she didn’t react. She just took her seat and pulled out her notes.

Kiba leaned over from two rows behind. “If he proposes, do we get to attend the wedding?”

“Do you want your lungs punched out through your ears?”

“Romance is dead in this village,” Kiba sighed.

Naruto was already unwrapping the onigiri. His mouth was full before Iruka-sensei even entered the room.

Thursday

“Forehead.” Ino’s voice carried sharp across the room. “Are you seriously bringing him food again?”

Sakura didn’t flinch. She just handed Naruto the bento and sat down, cool and efficient.

“You have a problem with that?” she said mildly.

Ino narrowed her eyes, arms crossed. “No, I’m just—confused. Since when do you do charity work?”

Naruto had already popped open the lid. “Ooh, sweet egg today—thanks, Sakura-chan!”

Ino blinked at that. So did half the class. Shikamaru looked up just long enough to sigh, “What a drag,” before returning to his desk nap.

Choji, chewing on something crunchy, leaned toward Shikamaru. “You think she likes him?”

Shikamaru opened one eye. “No. But something’s going on.”

Kiba, from behind them, whispered, “Maybe she’s playing the long game.”

“You’re all idiots,” Sakura muttered, scribbling in her notes.

> [Feeding the Dope Progress: 4/5]

Friday

“Yo, Naruto,” Choji said, setting a brown paper bag next to the bento. “Brought extra chips today. Want some?”

Naruto’s eyes lit up. “You guys are the best.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Try not to cry about it.”

“Too late,” Naruto said with a full mouth.

Kiba leaned forward, stage-whispering, “Why does this feel like we’re feeding a stray mutt behind the school?”

Sakura turned in her seat. “Because I am.”

Kiba turned to her, blasting out a loud laugh—his eyes twinkling as he grins at her. Naruto's lips widened and his blue eyes were—bright.

Just as things quieted down, a small shadow crept closer. Hinata, red in the face and clutching a wrapped rice ball, held it out with both hands.

“N-Naruto-kun,” she stammered, eyes locked on the floor. “I… I made this. If you want…”

Naruto blinked. “Huh? For me?”

Hinata gave a tiny nod. Her face could’ve boiled tea with how red it is. He took the rice ball with both hands. “Thanks, Hinata! You’re really nice!”

Hinata almost fainted on the spot.

Sakura watched it all with a blink. Then shook her head. “At this rate, we’re all gonna need a feeding chart.”

Kiba added under his breath, “Watch him evolve into a real person by next week.”

> [Feeding the Dope Completed!]

+150 EXP

Relationship Boost: Naruto (Moderate)

Mystery Bento Add-On (x1) Acquired

The classroom was louder than usual. Desks had been pushed aside, and half the students loitered near the chalkboard where the instructions were posted in big, scrawled kanji:

> GROUP EVALUATION:

You will be assigned to randomized groups of 4.

Complete the objective.

Evaluation will be based on teamwork, leadership, problem-solving, and adaptability.

Sakura scanned the list. Her team:

> Group 3:

• Haruno Sakura
• Aburame Shino
• Kanda Suzume
• Uzumaki Naruto 

“…Oh boy,” she muttered.

She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Naruto again,” she muttered. 

> [New Objective: Outperform your peers in the group trial.]

[Bonus Objective: Take leadership initiative during the task.]

Current Group Rank: —

Time Limit: 2 Hours

Location: Field 5 (Simulated Patrol + Emergency Response)

She glanced sideways and caught Naruto already waving at her across the room. Shino stood beside him, silent, unreadable behind his dark glasses.

Suzume Kanda—someone Sakura vaguely remembered from a theory-heavy class—had her arms crossed like this was beneath her. She vaguely remembered from theory lectures—sharp-tongued and dismissive.

Shino, quiet, observant. Good with plans if they listened. It wasn’t a terrible group. But not a simple one.

“Welp,” Sakura muttered, adjusting her hairtie. “Let’s go babysit.”

She stepped forward.

“Alright,” she said once they were gathered outside the field gate. “No offense, but if we don’t want to be dead last, we need to keep Naruto from running off and Shino from... just standing there.”

“I do not ‘just stand,’” Shino corrected calmly.

Naruto puffed his cheeks. “Hey, I’m right here, you know!”

Sakura exhaled slowly. “Then listen. Our goal is to finish the task and get evaluated on how we work. That means teamwork, no solo hero stunts. If someone sees an enemy, we don’t shout—we signal. Got it?”

Suzume gave her a look. “Are you in charge?”

Sakura looked at her evenly. “I plan to win.”

A brief silence.

Shino gave a small nod. “Logical. I will follow.”

Naruto scratched his nose. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do this! We’re gonna crush it!”

Shino stood quietly beside him, hands in his pockets, insects subtly shifting under his collar. Suzume crossed her arms, unimpressed.

Sakura stepped forward. “Okay. We have two hours and no idea what they’ll throw at us. Patrol means traps. Emergency response means… injured civilians or worse. We’ll need to split tasks when it comes up.”

> [You have taken Initiative.]

[Leadership Evaluation: Engaged]

[Group 3 Morale: +5]

Objective: Complete simulated patrol and resolve all threats or obstacles.

Timer Starts Now: 01:59:59

They stepped into the tall grass of Field 5.

The terrain was deceptively open—tall grass, scattered trees, a shallow creek cutting through the middle. The sun filtered gently through the shifting canopy, dappling patches of light onto the uneven forest floor. Nothing about it screamed danger, which meant everything was a trap.

Sakura narrowed her eyes.

It was too quiet.

She raised a hand, motioning for them to slow.

“We’ll walk perimeter in a slow clockwise rotation,” she said, voice low but clear. “Shino, you take rear. Suzume, mid-left. Naruto—front with me.”

Naruto straightened. “Got it!”

Their formation moved with surprising smoothness for a group that had barely worked together before. Sakura kept her senses sharp, eyes scanning the underbrush and the treetops in turns.

The creek to their right bubbled faintly, providing ambient sound to mask their footsteps. She kept her breathing level, heart steady.

Fifteen minutes passed in near-silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of boots over loose twigs or the rustle of Naruto adjusting his gear.

Then—

“Hey,” Naruto said, almost too loudly. “What if we set traps too?”

Sakura turned her head, just slightly, so she could see him better. “Explain.”

Naruto scratched his cheek. “Like—okay. What if we find a place where the other teams have to pass through? Like a choke point or whatever. A narrow path or a crossing over the creek. We make it look like someone’s hurt. Then when they come in to help, we jump them. Quick and clean.”

He grinned, eyes bright. “Ambush without the fight.”

Sakura blinked. Then tilted her head slightly, impressed despite herself.

“…That’s actually smart.”

“Hey!” he cried, feigning offense. “I’m full of good ideas!”

“No, seriously. I mean it. Let’s do it.” She turned, voice shifting into a command cadence. “Shino, you’ve got tracking bugs. Start spreading them out. Look for areas where foot traffic has already worn down the brush. Check for heat or chakra residue. Suzume and I will prep distraction scrolls.”

She glanced at Naruto. “You’re bait.”

Naruto blinked. “Wait—me?”

“You’re loud, excitable, and you’ve got natural acting talent. Play up an injury. Let them get close. Close enough to trigger the wire trap or stumble over a seal.”

Naruto gave a slow grin. “I’m great at screaming.”

Suzume snorted.

Shino, already crouched by a mossy tree trunk, gave a subtle nod. “My kikaichū have picked up three chakra trails converging east of here. There’s a muddy incline near the creek. It would slow movement and force people into single file.”

“Perfect,” Sakura said. “That’s our ambush site.”

They broke into task roles quickly.

Naruto sprawled dramatically on the chosen path, wincing and groaning with exaggerated flair. “Help meee,” he moaned, “I think my spleen’s broken!”

“Do you even know where your spleen is?” Sakura asked.

“Nope!” Naruto chirped. “But it sounds serious, right?”

Shino returned, more bugs flitting from his sleeve. “Two groups inbound. One from the west, another from the southeast. ETA… five minutes.”

Sakura’s eyes flicked to Suzume. “You ready?”

Suzume held up a palm-sized smoke scroll and nodded. “Ready.”

“Everyone into position,” Sakura said. “Naruto—act pathetic.”

“You got it.”

As they all took cover, Sakura crouched behind a thick log, hands resting just above her kunai pouch. Her breath was steady. Her mind sharper.

She felt it.

She glanced at Naruto again—sitting in the dirt, hair wild, rubbing a red smear of berry juice on his pant leg to sell the injury.

Sakura allowed herself the briefest smile.

“Let’s see if this works.”

It didn’t take long to set it up. They found a thinning in the brush beside the creekbed, an area where the earth sloped slightly and forced foot traffic into narrow steps. Sakura marked the perimeter with small paper slips, blending chakra into each one. She’d written faint distress call kanji across them.

Suzume whispered, “This won’t hurt them, right?”

“Just catch them off guard,” Sakura replied. “Maybe mess up their stance. No injuries.”

Naruto took his position halfway between two rocks and started mumbling under his breath. A low whine at first. Then louder. “Ughhh, my leg… Is anyone there? Help!”

He didn't even need to fake it well. His voice carried.

Ten minutes passed before the rustling came.

Ami’s voice cut through the trees. “Oh my god. Is that Naruto?”

Three figures appeared—Ami in the lead, with two other girls flanking her. One had twin buns. The other wore heavy gloves, built like she specialized in close combat.

“He probably fell again,” the bun-haired girl said.

“Should we help?” the heavy-set one asked.

“We get points for rescue,” Ami said. “Even if it’s that dumbass.”

They crept closer. Naruto groaned louder. “Help meeeeee! Ow, ow… my chakra’s all messed up!”

The moment Ami stepped on the kanji slip, it flared under her foot. A burst of colored powder erupted upward. The others yelped as a net sprung from the creek bank, catching the bun-haired girl in a tangle.

“What the hell?!” Ami shouted, coughing pink dust from her mouth.

That’s when Sakura and Suzume emerged from the brush, kunai drawn, poised.

“You’re out,” Sakura said smoothly.

“Tch!” Ami tried to draw her own weapon, but Naruto had already flipped back onto his feet and slapped a tagging scroll on her vest. Ink flared.

Shino stepped out from behind a tree. “We counted three. Confirmed capture.”

The net wriggled as the bun-haired girl groaned. The heavy-set one froze, hands in the air.

Ami was flushed, furious. “You set us up!”

“It’s a trial,” Sakura replied. “That was the point.”

“You used Naruto as bait?”

“He volunteered,” she said.

Naruto shrugged with a grin. “I’m great at screaming.”

Shino added, “And distracting people.”

Ami kicked the ground, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. Come on, let’s get marked and go.” They left, still coughing dust and brushing powder from their sleeves.

Sakura turned back to her team. Her expression stayed neutral, but inside she felt the tiniest flicker of pride.

“Nice work,” she said. “One down.”

Naruto beamed. Shino adjusted his glasses. Suzume nodded, cheeks flushed from the adrenaline.

The wind shifted.

A faint crunch of grass from the northwest edge of the clearing. Shino’s bugs stirred in response, subtle and precise. Sakura, crouched low behind the underbrush, flicked a glance toward Suzume.

The other girl nodded—ready.

Sakura’s pulse thrummed. The bugs hadn’t lied. Another group was closing in.

Not Ami this time.

“Four signatures,” Shino murmured quietly. “Known. One Nara, one Inuzuka. One Hyūga. Last is unregistered.”

Sakura’s stomach tightened in anticipation. “...This one is trouble."

There's Shikamaru, after all. But time is closing and they probably did a good job either way.

Naruto, already in place and sprawled dramatically in the dirt with fake blood on his sleeve—berry juice—suddenly looked a lot less ridiculous.

He peeked at Sakura from under his arm, awaiting the signal.

"Wait for it," she mouthed.

The footsteps grew louder—more confident, less cautious than Ami’s group had been. They weren’t rookies. They knew their angles, spacing, and tempo.

A slow triangulation toward the ‘injured’ boy in the grass.

“Oi,” Kiba’s voice rang out. “Naruto?”

Naruto groaned loudly. “Ugh—help—I tripped—bleeding out—oh no—”

There was a long pause.

“I think that’s berries,” Shikamaru muttered. “This is a trap.”

“Obviously,” Kiba snorted, but he didn’t move.

Sakura’s breath hitched. Damn. She leaned forward a touch to listen.

“Should we still help?” That was Kai, unsure.

“They know we know,” Hinata said softly. Her Byakugan wasn’t active, but she was focused on Naruto with concern regardless. “But... Naruto-kun looks—”

“It’s berries,” Shikamaru deadpanned again.

From her hiding spot, Sakura could just make out his lazy silhouette stepping closer with one hand tucked in his pocket.

“He’s not that good of an actor.”

“Hey!” Naruto sat up indignantly. “Rude!”

“Too early,” Sakura muttered, face palming. Their ambush was unraveling.

“Go anyway,” Shino whispered, his tone calm but urgent. “Now. While they’re slightly off-guard.”

Sakura clicked her tongue. “Fine. Suzume, flank. Naruto, be the distraction again—this time for real.”

She leapt forward without waiting for agreement, a smoke bomb popping between her fingers mid-jump. The clearing exploded in gray and white mist, swallowing all color and shape. Immediately, chaos bloomed.

Kiba lunged, eyes sharp, Akamaru barking from his jacket. Shikamaru moved to intercept Sakura’s path with an academy flicker.

She veered left sharply, throwing a flash tag behind her—not to blind, but to force them to reposition. It worked.

From the smoke, Suzume emerged with a whirlwind kick that nearly caught Kai by surprise.

“Okay,” Shikamaru muttered, dodging. “This is... mildly troublesome.”

Sakura smirked. “That’s the point.”

Hinata didn’t join the fray right away—she hovered near Naruto, torn between helping him and trying not to seem overly concerned. Her face was burning pink.

“Are you okay?” she asked, offering a hand.

Naruto blinked. “You know it was a trap, right?”

She nodded, lips trembling with a smile. “Still.”

Behind them, Shino and Kiba were engaged in a strange shuffle—bugs darting and Kiba and Akamaru trying to swat without panic. Suzume kept the pressure on Kai, who was yelping while being pushed back.

Sakura, meanwhile, danced with Shikamaru—dodging, weaving, never staying still long enough for him to catch her. It was a game of centimeters. “You’re smarter than you look,” he muttered, trying to bait her.

“Thanks,” she quipped, ducking under a thrown kunai and kicking it off course mid-air.

> [Skill Activated: Tactical Scan I]

Analyzing Opponent Patterns…

Shikamaru Nara – Moderate Threat

Fighting Style: Reactive / Predictive

Current Objective: Delay / Distract

Suggested Action: Change Rhythm, Force Overcommitment

Her eyes narrowed. "Are clan techniques even okay to use in a drill?"

> [Skill Activated: Combat Insight I]

Observation Bonus Applied: +5% Evasion

Cooldown: 5 minutes

"There were no rules." Shikamaru stepped sideways—trying to circle her, shadow low and curling outward like ink in water.

She twisted, letting him nearly tag her shadow before springing back at a diagonal angle. Feint high. Drop low.

Her heel grazed his arm, not enough to hurt—but enough to rattle.

“You're trying too hard,” she said quietly, half-smiling. “Your feet are a beat ahead of your mouth.”

“Troublesome,” he muttered again, stepping back with narrowed eyes.

Sakura didn’t push forward. She held her breath for a moment, letting her senses stretch.

Kai was losing steam.

Shino was driving Kiba into an awkward spiral.

And Naruto—bless him—was now dramatically fake-limping away from Hinata, who looked like she was going to combust trying to offer him bandages.

Good. They were winning this exchange—not overwhelmingly, but cleanly.

And that was enough.

> [Temporary Bonus: Tactical Execution Achieved – Group Synergy +3%]

[Cooldowns Reduced by 10% for Next 5 Minutes]

Sakura grinned as the wind picked up. “Let’s keep going.”

Shikamaru clicked his tongue, watching Sakura with narrowed eyes. “You're so troublesome.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” she replied coolly, adjusting her stance.  His shadow flicked out again—deceptively slow.

A trap.

Sakura stepped toward it deliberately, then—

> [Tactical Scan Update]

Shadow radius expanding — nearby tree angle shift detected.

Trap Type: Delay Loop

Recommended: Disrupt caster’s visual line.

Everything is just so easy when you can read your opponent.  Sakura pivoted behind a rock outcrop, forcing Shikamaru to move or lose her line of sight.

“Kai!” he shouted.

Too late.

Suzume landed a clean hit to Kai’s side, knocking the boy down with a puff of air. He groaned, rolling on the dirt. “I’m down!”

> [Enemy Retired: Kai – 3 Remaining Team Member(s) Before Victory]

Shikamaru's lips thinned. He didn’t say anything.

Behind them, Kiba finally stepped back, breath ragged. “I’m pulling out,” he admitted to Shino. “Too many bugs. Akamaru's pissed.”

The small dog barked in protest but nudged its snout into Kiba’s leg, clearly agreeing.

> [Enemy Retired: Kiba – 2 Remaining Team Member(s)]

Hinata, still mid-motion, froze—her hands filled with gauze. Naruto blinked at her. “Wait… are we still fighting?” he asked, scratching his head.

Suzume gave a thumbs-up. “Only if you’re ready.”

Hinata turned red as a tomato. “N-no! I didn’t mean to—ah—”

She backed up and promptly tripped over Naruto.

Sakura raised a brow. “...You okay?”

“I yield!” Hinata squeaked before jumping away from the blond with face red like a tomato.

> [Enemy Retired: Hinata – 1 Remaining Team Member(s)]

Which left one.

Shikamaru exhaled and sat down right where he stood, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m done. This is more work than I signed up for.”

> [All Opponents Eliminated – Victory Achieved]

[Side Quest Progress: Leadership Role Group Trial – COMPLETE]

+200 EXP

+1 Stat Point

New Passive Skill Unlocked: [Leadership Instinct I]

Description: Slightly increases group coordination and morale under your direction.

Group Technique Execution Speed +5% when leading a team.

The announcement flickered briefly in Sakura’s vision. She didn’t react right away—just stood still, chest rising and falling in even rhythm. Then she turned, slowly walking over to Naruto and held out her fist.

“Nice baiting,” she said, lips in a curve.

Naruto beamed and bumped his fist to hers. “Told ya I was good at screaming.”

Shino merely nodded, quiet as ever. Suzume grinned, brushing her dusty sleeves off.

“Well, that was fun,” she said. “We should all fail something on purpose so we can group up again.”

“Please don’t,” Shikamaru muttered from the ground. “Troublesome teamwork freaks.”

Sakura let herself smile slightly, just... haha.

The training field had quieted. Dust hung in the air like the aftertaste of battle. Some students limped; others laughed. A few sat dazed in the grass, muttering about bugs or betrayal. (Ami's group plus Kiba.)

Eventually, Iruka-sensei’s voice rose above the low hum of chatter.

“Alright—gather up!” he called, hands cupped around his mouth.

Students trudged toward the makeshift command post—a chalk board dragged onto the field and now scrawled with scores, damage tallies, and group rankings.

Iruka-sensei looked unusually serious.

“You’ve all completed the Group Trial. I’ve spoken to the evaluators, and based on performance metrics—engagement, adaptability, cooperation, and results—two teams stood out.”

He tapped the top two names on the board.

“Team 3 and Team 9.”

Sakura’s eyes drifted up.

Team 9

• Sasuke Uchiha
• Choji Akimichi
• Tenji Raito
• Masaru Tomioka

Iruka-sensei pointed. “Highest combat score goes to Team 9. They defeated their targets in under four minutes.”

A few murmurs echoed. One of the civilian boys, Masaru, puffed up with pride.

Iruka-sensei continued, tone carefully neutral. “However, team communication was… minimal.”

Choji scratched his cheek, visibly uncomfortable while holding his food. “I just followed whatever Sasuke did,” he admitted as he ate a chip.

Tenji frowned. “He didn’t really tell us what he was doing. We just—went along.”

Sasuke said nothing, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Iruka-sensei turned to the next team. “Team 3, on the other hand—” he nodded at Sakura’s group, “—showed a consistent chain of planning, communication, and execution.”

Naruto beamed. “We’re awesome.”

“They set traps, adapted their formations, and used individual talents for a team victory,” Iruka-sensei continued. “Took longer, but demonstrated leadership under pressure.”

A few more murmurs followed—some impressed, some dismissive. Sasuke didn’t look over.

> [You ranked #2 in Trial Performance.]

[Bonus XP: +50 for Tactical Execution]

[Class Reputation (Sakura): +5]

[Observation: Sasuke briefly glanced at you. Emotion unclear.]

Sakura exhaled. She didn't know if she felt proud or just… relieved.

“Top team technically is still Team 9,” Iruka-sensei concluded. “But for leadership, initiative, and potential—we’re recognizing Team 3. Special commendation will be noted in your file.”

Suzume raised a brow. “Wait, we get files?”

“Of course,” Iruka-sensei said, as if it were obvious. “This isn’t playtime.”

Naruto blinked. “Were we being watched all that time?”

“Yes,” said Shino, completely serious. Naruto shivered.

As the students broke apart, chattering or sulking or muttering over sore limbs, Sakura stood quietly beside her group. Shikamaru passed them on his way out, hands in his pockets.

“You’re annoying,” he said flatly to her. “But decent.”

Sakura offered a dry smile. “Back at you.”

Behind them, Sasuke’s teammates were already arguing—Masaru waving his arms as if trying to defend why he tripped during the ambush, Choji looking increasingly resigned.

Sasuke walked ahead of them, alone, not looking back.

Sakura watched his back.

Sasuke-kun.

Sasuke-kun.

Her younger self would’ve lingered on the name like a soft spell, a reason to giggle behind a book or whisper into her pillow. She used to dream of walking beside him. Laughing with him. Being seen by him.

But now—her gaze shifted.

> [Observe Activated]

Name: Uchiha Sasuke

Level: 12

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: Focused, Irritated

Affiliation: Konohagakure Academy – Rookie Class

Notable Traits: Genjutsu Proficiency (Unconfirmed), Sharingan Lineage

Relation to Player: Neutral – Disinterested

Disinterested?

Her breath caught. Not from fluttering heartstrings. From calculation.

Level 12. He was that far ahead. It wasn’t even close.

Her fists curled lightly at her sides. Not in frustration—but clarity.

She wanted that.

Is it his attention? His smile? Her crush? 

No.

Not his attention. Not his smile. Not the ghost of a crush she used to call love. She wanted the strength to look him in the eye and not flinch. To match that level. Surpass it.

3 days till the Genin Examination.

Chapter Text

Sakura wakes up to filtered sunlight on her face and the quiet rustling of leaves outside her window. Her eyes blink open slowly, then sharpen.

> [Status: Normal]

She stretches, long and easy. No soreness. No stiffness. Just a strange calm blanketing her.

A new day.

A new chapter.

The day of the Genin Graduation Exam.

She swings her legs over the bed and stands with a light bounce on her feet. Her system doesn’t ping any debuffs. No warnings. Everything is steady.

She showers, steam curling around her as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. No dark circles under her eyes. No chakra strain lingering in her veins. Just a girl—one who’s walked herself to the edge of change and intends to step forward.

Dressed in her uniform, she pops open her inventory and secretly taps the bento her mother left in the kitchen.

> [Item Added: Homemade Bento – Mebuki Style]

> Quality: ★★★★☆

> Restores 15 HP / 15 Chakra on use.

She smooths her skirt, ties her hair—not to look cute, but for focus—and heads out.

The streets of Konoha are awake with the usual rhythm: early vendors setting up shop, shinobi flickering past rooftops, mothers walking children. Sakura walks through it with her head high, lips neutral, eyes aware.

There’s no running today. No meditation. Just a simple, quiet walk.

Everything’s already in place.

The Academy gates loom ahead, familiar but heavier today. The air tastes sharper somehow, laced with expectation. Sakura doesn’t hesitate.

Her steps are steady, sandals whispering against the stone path.

Inside, the hall buzzes with low chatter—students grouped up in knots, nervous laughter and hushed boasts threading through the tension. Some are clutching textbooks like charms. Others tap their feet, feigning calm.

She scans the crowd without thinking.

No sign of Ino yet.

She walks past a group of civilian boys trying to memorize last-minute hand signs. They quiet when she passes, eyes darting toward her forehead.

Haaa...

Sakura finds her seat in the middle rows and sinks into it with a sigh, setting her bag down softly.

She doesn’t look around again.

Instead, she reaches inward—toward that space where the system hums in the background of her mind. Comforting. Constant.

> [Status: Normal]

[Chakra: Stable]

[Mental Focus: High]

[Upcoming Event: Genin Graduation Exam – Scheduled]

She lets her fingers rest lightly against the wood of the desk. Her nails are clean. Her sleeves rolled with precision. Everything is in order.

“Yo.”

The chair beside her scrapes.

Kiba flops into it like it’s any other day, which—technically—it is. Except it’s not.

“Guess today’s the day, huh?”

She doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to expect one. Shino sits two seats down, silent and unreadable as always. Naruto, in the corner, is talking too loudly to no one in particular.

“I bet they let us spar again,” Kiba mutters. “I hope they let us spar.”

He’s practically vibrating.

Sakura’s eyes flick toward Naruto.

His clothes are wrinkled, face stretched with a grin that’s a little too big. He’s balancing a chair backward and mouthing something to a civilian boy who doesn’t know how to respond. He looks… hungry. In more ways than one.

> [Observe Activated]

Subject: Uzumaki Naruto

Status: Chakra Levels Abnormally High

Hidden Stat Detected…

— Unlabeled Potential

Sakura’s nose twitches.

She looks away.

She doesn’t know what to do with that. Not yet.

The door opens with a sharp creak.

Iruka-sensei steps in, clipboard under his arm, eyes scanning the room. “All right,” he says, voice firm but not unkind. “Seats. Settle down. We begin shortly.”

The shuffle of movement quiets into stillness. Sakura straightens in her seat, spine aligned, gaze forward.

The tension in the classroom thickens as Iruka begins the usual rundown—procedure, structure, what they’ll be graded on. His voice is steady, practiced. Familiar. He’s done this before. Many times.

But Sakura watches him more closely today.

There’s a faint crease between his brows. His clipboard is the same worn one he always carries, the edge of a paper frayed like he’s flipped it too many times.

His tone is calm, but there’s a hitch—barely a breath—when he glances toward Naruto’s side of the room.

He’s worried.

Not about the class. About one particular student.

Sakura doesn’t look.

She doesn’t need to.

She folds her hands on the desk instead, fingers curling with a discipline she didn't have months ago.

Her nails don’t bite into her palms anymore. She’s learned not to grip too tightly.

“…written portion will come first,” Iruka continues, “followed by chakra control and Clone Technique demonstration. Physical exams will not be included in today’s grading, but your previous sparring evaluations are factored in. Any questions?”

None.

“Good.”

He nods once, then opens the drawer at his desk and begins handing out the scrolls.

The written test is dull.

Sakura’s quill scratches quietly against the paper, the questions swimming before her eyes only to click neatly into place one by one. Chakra theory. Hand seal order. Emergency protocol. Her answers flow out like a checklist.

> [INT Bonus Applied – Increased Accuracy]

[WIS Bonus Applied – Reduced Mental Fatigue]

Beside her, Kiba is muttering under his breath.

Shino, two seats away, is unreadable.

Naruto… is chewing on the end of his brush.

Sakura doesn’t look again. She doesn’t need to. The System feeds her the smallest detail like a breath:

> [Observe Passive – Uzumaki Naruto: 34% Completed… Warning: Inconsistent Chakra Flow. Seal Interference Suspected.]

It prickles at the edge of her mind, but she tucks it away.

Not now.

Not yet.

The scroll is filled in before the timer runs out. She sets her brush down with a click and leans back, rolling the tension out of her shoulders.

Iruka moves through the rows, collecting answers, his expression unreadable.

“Everyone to the hall,” Mizuki calls from the doorframe. “Practical portion next.”

Sakura’s jaw flexes once before she stands.

The hallway buzzes with nervous energy as students file out, lining up by numbers called. The clone test—simple in concept, but not in execution.

Especially not for one particular blonde.

Sakura watches, arms folded, as Mizuki takes the first five.

She waits.

Listens.

There are some polite claps. A few groans. Someone flubs the third seal entirely.

Kiba goes up. His clone is messy but viable.

Shino passes with eerie calm.

Then—

“Naruto Uzumaki.”

Silence.

He steps forward, hands twitching once before settling. His face is strained but determined. The seals are sloppy.

The chakra, worse.

The puff of smoke clears—

And the clone that wobbles beside him is pale, barely formed, half-collapsed before Iruka even reacts.

Mizuki grimaces.

Iruka’s jaw tightens.

“…Fail.”

Naruto doesn’t flinch. Not until he turns away.

Sakura doesn’t move.

But something low stirs in her gut. Not pity. Not even sympathy.

Recognition. Because for all that mess—his chakra burn—something inside him moves.

Wild. Heavy. Caged.

> [Observe Passive – Alert: Chakra Surge Detected… Source Unknown.]

She gulps her saliva, green eyes narrowing on the blond's back as he trudges toward the end of the line, shoulders stiff with effort not to slump. The classroom doesn’t laugh. Not loudly. But the silence hums with judgment, and Sakura’s eyes shift—

—to Mizuki.

Too bright. Too quick to look neutral. His smile is thin and angled wrong, and when he turns to make a note on his clipboard, her breath catches.

> [Observe Passive – Mizuki: Status – Unusual Behavior Detected… Intent: Hidden.]

Her pulse thuds once in her ear.

She adjusts her stance, arms loosening, expression smoothing out as she lets her eyes drift lazily across the room like she’s bored. Like she’s just another girl waiting her turn.

But the System doesn’t lie.

> [New Insight Unlocked: Instinct – You have sensed a misalignment in behavior patterns.]

---

> [Mizuki – Emotional Tone: False. Facial Microexpressions: Concealing. Intent: Planning.]

Planning what?

She doesn’t know yet.

But her skin prickles in quiet warning, and she files it away beside the chakra surge still thrumming low and unseen in Naruto’s steps.

By the time her name is called, her face is the picture of calm.

“Haruno Sakura,” Iruka says.

She walks to the front with practiced steps, hands already lifting to weave the seals. No nerves. No performance.

This is routine now.

She exhales slowly, letting chakra gather just so—

“Clone Technique!”

Smoke bursts outward in a crisp poof. Three clean, solid clones appear beside her, each balanced and standing.

Iruka’s face eases with visible relief. Mizuki’s lips twitch too much.

She doesn’t blink.

“Pass,” Iruka says, scribbling something on the sheet.

Sakura turns, nods once, and walks back to her seat. But inside her inventory, her fingers tap open the notes tab.

She starts a file. Labels it something simple.

> Observation Log – Mizuki

Unusual tone, unknown planning. Traitor flag. Monitor.

---

Observation Log – Naruto Uzumaki

Chakra disruption detected. Surge: massive, caged. Monitor closely.

Outside, sunlight filters down in soft sheets through the budding trees, and the front courtyard of the Academy hums with the noise of passing and failing students.

Teachers gather in small knots, handing out the headbands one by one. Some students cheer. Others cry out of happiness

Sakura’s fingers close around the metal plate the moment Iruka presses it into her hand.

It’s... heavier than she expected.

The symbol of the leaf glints faintly under her thumb, the band still warm from the teacher’s hand. A pause—a breath—and then she lifts it to her forehead and ties it, motion smooth, without a mirror.

It fits.

"Yo, forehead," Kiba grins, falling into step beside her as they exit the Academy gates. He’s got his hitai-ate strapped on his forehead. Of course. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

They've been talking alot lately. Of course that's how he now noticed how dry and sarcastic she normally is.

“Didn’t think you’d still be alive,” she says without heat.

He snorts. “That’s fair.”

His older sister, Hana, is waiting near the edge of the courtyard with their mother. Tsume Inuzuka towers, all wild hair and even wilder presence. Her smirk widens when she sees Kiba and Sakura approaching.

"This the one you’ve been sniffing around, pup?"

"Mom—!" Kiba squawks, flushing bright red.

Uh...

Sakura offers a polite nod, quick and sharp. "Good afternoon, Inuzuka-sama."

“Polite, huh? I like her,” Tsume laughs, slapping her son on the back so hard he stumbles. "You could learn a thing or two."

They laugh. Sakura even lets herself smile. Just a little.

She passes Choji next, who’s sharing some onigiri with his dad. She nods politely. “Congrats.”

He perks up and gives a grin full of food. “You too, Sakura!”

It’s loud now—familiar faces, families, proud voices and arms wrapped around shoulders. She sees Ino a moment later, hugging her mother with one arm and her dad with the other, already sparkling with something sharp and self-assured.

Their eyes meet.

It’s quick. Just a glance.

Sakura doesn’t wave. Neither does Ino.

But it’s not bitter, either.

She keeps walking. Through it all. Past it.

And then she sees them.

Her parents.

Mebuki stands stiffly at first, face unreadable—then she sees the hitai-ate. Her arms open.

Sakura exhales. Walks straight into them.

Kizashi’s laughing already, tears in his eyes before he even says anything. "I knew it! I knew my girl would ace it!"

“I didn’t ace it,” Sakura mutters. “I passed.”

“Which is what matters,” Mebuki says, voice brisk but eyes warm.

They walk together for a while. Talk about how her classmates did. Who cried. Who tried to sneak out the window (Kiba). Who had the best clone (most say Sasuke-kun).

Then, her steps slow.

Naruto.

He’s alone, swinging lightly on the creaky swing under the old tree. The headband isn’t on his forehead—nowhere. His eyes are on the ground, or maybe on the way everyone else is surrounded by family.

Sakura feels a muscle tighten in her chest.

Not pity.

Not exactly.

But it sits there.

Heavy.

She turns her face slightly, watching him without quite watching.

Naruto doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he just doesn’t show it.

The swing creaks again.

Her parents are still talking—Kizashi animated as ever, gesturing wildly as he recounts some story she half-remembers, while Mebuki listens with a small, fond smile. Sakura stands between them, nodding now and then, the weight of her hitai-ate still grounding her. There’s warmth in her chest, but it doesn’t quite reach the edges.

“—and then he told me he’d make it through even if he had to kick the clone in the face,” her father says, laughing. “Can you imagine? Kicking a chakra construct?”

“I can, actually,” Mebuki mutters, shooting a look at Sakura, who shrugs like she has no idea what that means.

She glances around, just lightly. A reflex.

There’s laughter, more voices—a celebration of small, passing victories.

Then—

Her eyes flicker.

To the swing.

And she sees him.

Not Naruto. She sees him every day. Loud. Lonely. Constant.

But the man standing in front of him now—bending down slightly, smiling like a snake in sheep’s clothing.

Mizuki.

Sakura’s blood rushes in her ears.

Fuck.

It slams into her like cold water down her spine. Her breath catches.

That smile. That hand on Naruto’s shoulder. The way he crouches to meet the boy’s eye.

Too friendly. Too… intent.

Her eyes narrow.

She tunes her parents out. The world fades a little. It’s just him now. Naruto, smiling, scratching his cheek and nodding—and Mizuki, still talking.

Still planting something.

Sakura’s hands curl into loose fists at her sides.

> [Observe Passive – Warning: Deceptive Intent Detected.]

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Keeps her body language casual, like she’s still just basking in the afterglow of passing.

But inside?

Inside she’s burning.

"What are you looking at?" Mebuki’s voice cuts in, casual but curious.

Sakura blinks.

Her mouth opens—then her father hums.

"Oh—oh. Him." Kizashi’s voice carries the kind of tone that doesn’t need to be finished. Disapproval wrapped in lightness. He scratches his chin, eyes still on the swing set. "Guess even trouble looks lonely sometimes."

"Come on, sweetie," her mother says, placing a hand on Sakura’s back. "Let’s not get distracted. You should be proud—you did amazing."

Sakura forces a nod, lets her mother steer her gently forward. But her eyes flick back—one last time.

Naruto’s still sitting on that rusted swing. Mizuki is still talking. Still crouched beside him like he belongs there. Like he cares.

Her jaw tightens.

Why him? Why Naruto? Is it because he’s alone? Because no one would notice if something happened?

She swallows the sudden rise of bile in her throat. Her father says something again—she doesn’t hear it. Not really. Her gaze shifts, scanning—

And there.

At the far edge of the crowd.

Iruka-sensei.

He’s standing straight, posture military clean, expression polite as he talks to someone clad in red and white robes.

The Hokage.

Sakura’s heart skips.

Of course he’d report in. Of course he’d be honest. He always is.

Still, something coils in her gut.

And she can’t help but glance back.

Naruto’s still nodding.

Mizuki’s still smiling.

Too wide. Too kind. The sort of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes.

Sakura can feel it again—that strange pulse in her chest. The invisible shift beneath her skin. Her game system doesn’t ping, no quest appears, no alert.

But her instincts whisper louder than any prompt ever could.

“—ka? Sakura?”

She snaps back to the present, blinking up at her mother’s expectant face.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I was just… thinking.”

Mebuki hums. “Well, stop thinking so hard. It’s your graduation day. Smile a little.” She reaches out, tucks a stray strand of pink behind Sakura’s ear. “You earned this.”

Sakura nods. Forces her expression to soften. She even manages a small, practiced smile.

Her hitai-ate gleams faintly under the sun. The metal still feels a little too new on her forehead—cool, solid, real.

“I’m going to go say hi to Ino,” she lies, already stepping back. “Be right back.”

Her mom waves her off, distracted now by something her father’s saying about celebratory soba.

Sakura slips through the crowd with clean steps, avoiding familiar faces and familiar voices. She doesn’t go to Ino. Doesn’t stop to talk.

She angles her path toward the academy again. Toward the swing set.

She keeps her head down and her body language calm—just another graduate cutting through.

From this angle, she gets a better view.

Mizuki is standing now, one hand on Naruto’s shoulder. He’s saying something low, something meant only for the boy to hear. Naruto is nodding again, eyes wide. Trusting.

> [Observe Passive – Alert: Emotional Discrepancy Detected.]

Target: Naruto Uzumaki

Emotion Registered: Hope (Genuine)

Target: Mizuki

Emotion Registered: Satisfaction (Artificial)

Sakura’s expression brightens with manufactured ease. She lifts her hand in a small wave, approaching the two.

“Hi, Mizuki-sensei!” she says, light and cheerful.

> [Deception – Lv. 2: Success.]

Her voice doesn’t waver. Her posture is perfect. To any observer, she’s just a polite, enthusiastic student eager for post-exam praise.

Mizuki turns with a smile that mirrors her own in its falseness. “Ah, Sakura-chan. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sensei.” She tucks her hands behind her back, glancing once at Naruto—whose confused smile fades the moment her eyes meet his. Good. She keeps her tone steady. “Actually, I had a question.”

Mizuki’s eyebrows lift, intrigued. “Sure. What about?”

“Just about the next steps,” she says smoothly, walking closer, eyes wide like a clueless honor student. “After we get our teams and all that. I was wondering, um… when that happens.”

Mizuki hums like he’s thinking about it, already turning half away, pointing toward the academy building. “Team placements will be announced in a few days. You’ll have orientation before that, but—”

As he talks, Sakura shifts her eyes back to Naruto. Her gaze sharpens just slightly—subtle enough to avoid notice.

Come on, she thinks. Use your head. You’re not that stupid.

She doesn’t mouth the words. She doesn’t dare. But the words burn in her eyes: Don’t trust him. Don’t go with him. Don’t believe whatever he says next.

Naruto’s brows furrow, faintly.

He looks between her and Mizuki. Then again, longer, at Sakura.

> [Observe Passive – Alert: Suspicion Registered.]

Target: Naruto Uzumaki

Emotion: Confusion → Uncertainty → Distrust (Low Level)

Just a flicker. Just enough.

Mizuki turns back toward her, still talking, still explaining something pointless about protocol. She nods, listening like a good student.

But inside, she’s already running calculations.

She might not be able to stop what’s coming—but maybe she’s tilted it, even just a little. Shifted the axis.

One move ahead. Just enough.

“Thanks, Mizuki-sensei,” she says finally, voice bright again. “That clears it up.”

She bows. Turns.

And never once looks back.

The Haruno household was warm that night—lit with celebration and the clink of dishes, chopsticks, laughter.

“Eat more,” Mebuki insisted, already scooping a second helping of stewed lotus root into Sakura’s bowl before she could protest. “You need to keep your strength up now that you’re officially a genin.”

“I’m not on a team yet,” Sakura muttered, cheeks full, but she didn’t push the bowl away.

“You passed.” Her father beamed across the table, cup of tea in hand, still in his work shirt. His hair rumpled. “Means you’re one of them now.”

“I saw the list they posted,” Mebuki added, voice clipped with pride. “Only a few didn’t make it. And you—top of the class.”

Sakura chewed a mouthful of grilled fish, her chopsticks pausing. That part still didn’t feel real, even after the cheering, the headband, the swell of adrenaline when Iruka had smiled and nodded and passed it to her with his own two hands.

She remembered gripping the metal plate so tightly it nearly cut her palm. Not because it was hard-won—she’d known she could do the clone. It wasn’t even that she wanted the title so badly.

It was the symbol.

Her father was still talking—telling some story about when he’d first heard she’d enrolled, back when she’d come home with a scraped knee and a shy little smile.

“And now look at you,” he said, leaning back. “Smarter than both of us combined. Shinobi of the Leaf.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, but there was a curl at the edge of her lips she couldn’t shake.

“Don’t jinx it,” she said. “Still have team assignments.”

Her mom refilled her tea without asking. “You’ll be fine. You always are.”

> [Passive Activated: System Awareness – Comfort Detected]

Status: Stable, Well-Fed (+HP Regen Bonus for 2 Hours)

The table was full of her favorites: seasoned tofu, shredded pickled radish, tamagoyaki with little flecks of scallion, and the last of the late-spring pickled plums her mother always hoarded. Even miso soup with extra wakame.

She reached for another rice ball and caught her father watching her.

“You’ve changed,” he said. Not accusing. Just observant.

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “I don’t know. You just seem… sharper lately. More focused.”

Sakura swallowed. “It’s a ninja thing, I guess.”

He nodded, satisfied with the answer.

But Mebuki narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t overdo it. I know how you get.”

"Mom,” Sakura said, dry. “I’m not going to light myself on fire or anything.”

“Or pass out again like that one time you swore you were just doing stretching,” Mebuki said without missing a beat. “I know the signs.”

Sakura made a face and changed the subject, talking about how weird Naruto was acting after the exam (her parents laughed), or how she thought she caught Shino, an Aburame, smiling (they didn’t believe her), and even let herself grumble a little about Ami still being Ami (her mother rolled her eyes).

It was simple. Warm.

She sat on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest, fingers curled tight around the window frame as she pushed it open.

The cool night air spilled in, rustling the pale curtains. Konoha was quiet now—streetlamps glowing soft, only the occasional flicker of chakra moving in the distance as shinobi leapt between rooftops or patrolled unseen.

But her heart was loud.

Loud in her chest. Loud in her throat. Her skin prickled with it.

Jittery.

> [Status Effect: Minor Anxiety – Chakra Regulation Disrupted]

“Shit,” she muttered, pressing a palm flat to her sternum.

She should’ve said something.

She should have told Iruka-sensei. Or the Hokage. Or someone.

Why didn’t she?

Her nails dug into her sleeve.

That smile Mizuki had given her still lingered. Too smooth. Too patient. And then the way he had looked at Naruto—that shift when he thought no one saw. Like his whole face had changed.

Like a predator.

“Fuck,” she whispered, curling in tighter.

She’d hinted. Dropped things in her voice, in her questions. She thought Naruto would get it—he was dumb, yeah, but he wasn’t stupid. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she should’ve just—

No. No, she couldn’t afford to panic.

She inhaled through her nose, slow. Counted to four. Exhaled.

The system pulsed faintly beneath her thoughts, grounding her. She could feel it in her chakra, gently recalibrating.

> [System Suggestion: Initiate Meditation?]

Y/N

She stared at the prompt. Then closed her eyes—[Yes].

Chapter Text

"Smile, Haruno!”

Sakura squinted into the late morning sun, eyes narrowed slightly beneath her bangs. Her pink hair had been brushed back and clipped neatly, but stray strands still framed her face. She tried to force a smile, something that landed closer to a grimace.

The photographer didn’t seem to care. He lifted the camera, its lens slightly smudged with chakra-imbued dust.

"Relax your shoulders. Tilt your chin down just a bit. There. Hold still."

Click.

The old-style camera puffed smoke, and that was that.

Sakura stepped off the wooden stool, headband snug against her forehead, the Konoha symbol gleaming. She passed through the shade of the makeshift registration tent where a bored chunin handed her a paper slip.

Ninja ID: 012601

Name: Haruno Sakura

Her first official designation.

She held it for a moment. The ink was still damp at the edges. It looked too clean for what it really meant.

She let out a slow breath and tucked it into her pouch. Her fingers lingered at the flap of her pouch for a moment too long.

The number was simple. Plain. Just digits on cheap paper. But her heart thudded beneath her chest like it had weight. Meaning.

Zero-twelve-zero-six-zero-one. She mouthed it once, under her breath.

A part of her thought there’d be more. Trumpets. A crack of lightning. Some great shift in the wind. But no—just a paper slip. Just a tent. Just another girl who’d made it.

She stepped back into the sunlight, blinking as the wind stirred her pink hair across her cheeks. She glanced down at her boots.

They still had that chalky dust from the academy yard, and her legs felt too light, like the ground hadn’t quite caught up to what she’d become.

A kunoichi. For real.

No more wooden practice kunai. No more excuses. No more “someday, I'll marry Sasuke-kun!" Probably.

She adjusted the headband snug around her forehead. It wasn’t the soft bandana cloth she used to wear as a child. It was heavier. Fitted. Real.

Around her, classmates were laughing, shouting, waving at their families. The sun made their metal headbands flash, catching light like a mirror.

And hers shone too.

“Haruno Sakura?” a voice said.

She turned. The Hokage stood nearby, half in the shade of the tent’s frame, his presence calm but unmistakable. His robes rustled faintly in the breeze.

He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but his gaze was steady. Watchful.

She straightened on instinct. “Hokage-sama!”

He nodded once, then reached for the slip in her hand. “May I?”

She hesitated, then handed it over with both hands.

He held the paper between his fingers, reading it with the kind of focus that made the silence feel heavier. His eyes scanned the slip once, then flicked to the headband on her forehead, then back to her face.

“Zero-twelve-zero-six-zero-one,” he murmured. “You’ve made it.”

There was no ceremony in his voice. No fluff. Just simple words, like a seal being stamped.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” she said, voice a little too formal. Her heart thudded in her chest, just under control.

He looked down again at the paper. “You’re a bright one. The instructors say you’ve always done well in theory.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t trust herself to.

“You’ve grown since I last saw you in the hospital ward,” he said, almost to himself. “That was years ago now. You were shorter. Round cheeks. Loud.”

Sakura blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “..."

What.

And just like that, the scent of disinfectant returned to her nose. The pale green walls. A small hand gripping her mother’s sleeve while sobbing because her fever wouldn’t break and the nurse had used a needle wrong.

She remembered a warm voice then—low and patient—reading off a scroll while walking around the hospital. She remembered someone taking her gently while she's sobbing loudly because the needle hurts.

Not a medic-nin. Not a nurse.

Him.

He’d spoken like she mattered, even if she was only six and crying too loud. Sakura looked at him now. At the years carved into the lines of his face. The weight of the hat.

She straightened unconsciously. “I got better.”

“I can see that,” he said, amused.

“...You remember?” she asks politely.

“I make it my business to remember the faces of Konoha,” he said, handing the slip back with care.

She took it, slower this time. This man in front of her is the Hokage—the leader. A man that looks after his subjects. 

[Observe Passive: Target identified - Sarutobi Hiruzen.

Rank: Kage. Title: The Professor. Threat Level: Extreme.

Observation Skill Level too low for further detail.]

“You’re sharp,” he said. “Keep being sharp. But don’t forget—being a shinobi isn’t just about being clever. It’s about heart.”

She nodded, slower this time. “Yes, sir.”

He tapped the paper gently. “You’ll be assigned to a team in a few days. Until then—rest. Breathe. Remember this feeling.”

She bowed. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

As she stepped back, she could still feel his gaze following her—not unkind, but weighted. Measuring.

By the time she reached the steps, her grip on the slip had firmed again.

012601. 

A number, but hers. She glanced at it one more time. The ink was dry now.

She turned.

“Excuse me,” Sakura said, voice even.

The Hokage paused mid-step, brows lifting just slightly as he turned back to her.

“I… may I ask about—”

Her mouth stopped moving. Her thoughts knotted.

About Mizuki?

About Naruto?

About the way Iruka-sensei’s face looked yesterday when he scanned the field?

“…No. Nevermind.”

She bowed instead, short and sharp.

He studied her for a moment longer. Then nodded once.

Sakura turned and walked away, the paper tucked close to her chest. She stepped away from the tent, the damp slip pressed between her fingers.

That was it, huh?

All the work, the chakra burns, the bruises, the sleepless nights. The clone technique. The stupid quests.

She glanced down at her hand, frowning at the ink that hadn't dried yet.

"Do I get any reward for this?" she muttered under her breath.

> [System Notice]

Ninja Designation Confirmed: Haruno Sakura – ID 012601

Status Updated: Genin

Achievement Unlocked: Graduation

+500 EXP

+2 Stat Points

+Skill Scroll: D-Rank Utility – "Ninja Basics Toolkit"

Sakura blinked. Then snorted softly.

"Right," she whispered. "Should’ve known."

She didn’t open the scroll. Not yet.

Instead, she walked past the last set of steps, hitai-ate snug against her forehead, wind teasing her pink hair loose from its tie. The streets were slowly thinning—students trickling back home with families in tow. Her eyes scanned the square until they caught familiar movement.

“Kiba!” she called out.

He turned halfway, blinking. Kai and Sawako stood on either side of him, mid-laugh, until they registered her voice.

Kiba tilted his head like a confused dog. “...Me?”

“You. Me. Talk.” She didn’t slow.

He gave the other two a helpless shrug, falling into step beside her. “Man, what is it now?”

“You’re Naruto’s…” She paused, wrinkling her nose as if the words themselves smelled weird. “Closest friend, right?”

Kiba squinted at her. “I mean—he talks to me. Plus didn't you feed him bento for a week?"

She rolled her eyes. “Have you heard anything from him?”

He scratched the back of his head, expression skewing. “Not really. Mom and Hana had to drag me out of bed this morning. Whole house was buzzing. Something about Naruto pulling a stunt last night. Or going missing. I dunno.”

He yawned, long and loud. “Didn’t pay attention.”

“Missing?” she repeated.

Kiba shrugged, then winced. “Or maybe he got caught? Or maybe it’s some big prank again. You know how he is.”

Sakura’s lips pressed into a thin line.

No, she thought. That didn’t sound like a prank. Not this time.

Not with the way Mizuki’s eyes had lingered too long yesterday. Not with the look Iruka-sensei wore when talking to the Hokage. Not with the swing—empty.

Still swaying. Sakura's lips thinned.

She did know how Naruto was. Loud. Messy. Stubborn. Always running his mouth about ramen, always scrambling for scraps of praise, always pretending the stares didn’t stick to his back like rot.

She scanned Kiba’s face, but he was already squinting at the sky like he was deciding whether it was going to rain later. Casual. Unbothered.

“Did your mom say anything else?” she asked.

Kiba scratched at his cheek. “Mmm… nah. Just that she saw some chunin out past curfew. That was weird, I guess.”

Sakura turned her gaze forward again, expression neutral. “Weird.”

Kiba glanced at her. “You worried or something?”

“No.”

Yes.

“Sure doesn’t sound like no,” he muttered.

She didn’t answer. Her thoughts spun tight and fast beneath her cool exterior. She'd seen Iruka-sensei last on her graduation. He didn’t look panicked. But something had been off in the way he stood beside the Hokage. Too straight. Too still.

And Mizuki—

Her jaw clenched.

No, something was wrong. Something had already happened.

She felt it like a prickle between her shoulder blades.

> [Passive Skill: System Awareness – Lv. 1]

Minor Alert: Emotional Regulation Required – Trigger: Discrepancy Detected

She inhaled through her nose. Forced her shoulders down.

"Thanks," she said to Kiba.

"For what?"

"Just—talking. I guess."

He squinted at her like she’d grown another head. “Okay. You’re being weird, Haruno.”

“You’re always weird,” she shot back, green eyes unamused. “…Right,” she said instead, shoving the noise down. “Probably something dumb. He’ll show up yelling about ramen or whatever.”

Kiba snorted. “That’s what I said! Probably didn’t wake up on time or ran off chasing a squirrel. Classic Naruto.”

Sakura gave a half-smile, her mind already a few paces ahead. “Yeah. Classic.”

But her stomach stayed tight.

> [Observe Passive – Notified: Inconsistency in Known Pattern Detected.]

Her eyes flickered. The system wasn’t always this subtle, but it knew how to tap her on the shoulder when needed.

Sakura turned slightly, watching the direction of the Hokage Tower—not for answers, but for shadows.

“Anyway,” Kiba stretched again, arms above his head, “we’ve got a week of nothing, right? Just laze around until they post our team picks?”

“Right.” She nodded absently, half her attention still trailing thoughts of Naruto. “You, uh… let me know if you hear anything. Even if it’s dumb.”

Kiba raised an eyebrow. “Again, since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, too quickly. “It’s just… annoying if he does something stupid before teams are assigned. I don’t want to get stuck with deadweight.”

“Pfft. Same,” Kiba agreed. “Bet you a dumpling he shows up tomorrow like nothing happened.”

“Bet,” Sakura said, turning away. "He failed, right?"

"Yeah."

Augh.

She followed the same path she always did. Morning air sharp in her lungs, civilian chatter humming in the background, her sandals clacking in practiced rhythm.

Her movements were clean, methodical—the same steps she took every day since the Academy started. Nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

The hitai-ate snug against her forehead pulsed like a brand. The ID slip in her pouch felt heavier than steel.

Her thoughts drifted again. Naruto. Mizuki. Iruka. Something was off. She could feel it.

So when her eyes caught the glint of polished metal in a nearby window, she stopped.

The weapons shop stood just off the main road, nestled between a general store and a ramen stand that hadn’t opened yet. The display case gleamed—kunai, shuriken, smoke bombs, senbon.

Some were plain. Others were engraved, heavier, meant for hands that knew what they were doing.

She walked toward it without quite realizing it.

> [Passive Skill: System Awareness – Lv. 1]

Interest Detected: Inventory Expansion Suggested

Quest Available: “First Tools” – Equip Yourself Like a Proper Genin

Optional Reward: +1 Dexterity | +1 Inventory Slot | Item: Throwing Holster (Standard)

Her reflection stared back at her in the glass—pink hair tied neatly, green eyes sharper than they used to be. 

The bell above the door gave a dull jingle as Sakura stepped inside.

The shop smelled faintly of oiled leather and steel—cool, metallic, and lived-in. The kind of scent you didn’t notice until it clung to your clothes.

The shinobi behind the counter had a bored, half-lidded look in his eyes that sharpened when she approached. “Looking for your first loadout?”

She blinked, then gave a tight nod.

"Got the graduation discount this week,” he added, tapping a price tag with a lazy finger. “Nothing fancy. But enough to put a scratch on someone if you aim right.”

Sakura stared at the weapons for a moment longer, then reached for the pouch at her waist. She had some ryo—gifted, saved, scraped from errands and perfect scores.

“So... graduation, huh?” he said, taking in the hitai-ate with a glance.

“Yesterday,” Sakura replied. She stood a little straighter, unsure why her voice came out so clipped. “I’m looking for new gears.”

“Well, that narrows it down,” he said dryly, then gestured around the shop. “You want to stab someone, throw something at someone, or trap someone?”

Her lips twitched because what would she say? She doesn't know herself.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the glass display. “You’ve got a tight frame. Not a bruiser, not a flailer. You know what kind of fighter you want to be yet?”

She hesitated.

He tapped the side of his head. “Smart type, right? Fast hands, smarter feet. You’re not gonna overpower anyone, but you can be quick. Precise.”

Her eyes flicked to the displayed kunai—sleek, matte-black, with balanced grips and wrapped hilts.

“I’ve been practicing throws,” she said finally.

“Then let’s start there.” He opened the case and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. “These are standard-weight kunai. Won’t bounce if you hit bark. Decent spin. And cheaper than the flashy ones.”

She reached out, picked one up, and felt the balance in her fingers. It was familiar, but different from the dulled practice versions at the Academy. Heavier. Real.

> [Item Acquired: Basic Kunai x3]

Quality: ★★★☆☆

Weight: Balanced

Durability: 85%

Bonus: Slight Dexterity gain with consistent use.

“What about a pouch?” she asked.

He gave a low hum, then ducked behind the counter and pulled out a holster belt. “Standard thigh-strap with side compartment. Good for beginners. Won’t weigh you down.”

> [Item Acquired: Throwing Holster – Standard]

Slot Gained: 1 Throw-Type Weapon

Effect: +2 Quick Draw Speed

She handed over her ryo—just enough—and packed the items carefully.

The chūnin watched her work, then said, “What’s your team assignment?”

“Haven’t gotten it yet. One week until it’s posted.”

“Then train like you’ll be carrying the load,” he muttered, almost to himself. “’Cause nine times out of ten, someone definitely has to.”

She paused. Looked up at him.

His expression had shuttered again. Guarded, half-lidded. Like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Sakura lingered after the purchase, eyes roaming the racks and crates shoved under the lower shelves. Most were marked with chalk—blunt training shuriken, chipped senbon, clearance scrolls no one wanted.

She crouched near a forgotten crate tucked beneath a side table. The contents looked worthless. Metal scraps, cracked kunai, bent hilts.

And then-a flicker.

A subtle shimmer. Blue text hovered faintly near the corner of a frayed cloth.

[Luck Trigger - Passive Activated] Chance Find: Hidden Item Revealed Source: Luck Stat ≥ 5

> [Unidentified Item – Hidden Grade]

Condition: Stable

Rarity: ★★★★★

Hidden Trait: ??

Wait.

Her heart jumped a little. She carefully reached into the pile and pulled out what looked like a plain, narrow utility blade. Dark metal, slimmer than a kunai, with a faint blue sheen near the hilt.

...

Eh...

It didn’t look five-star. It looked… forgotten. Modest. But her system probably didn’t lie about how rare it is.

> [Item Acquired: Ghost Fang – Concealed Blade]

Quality: ★★★★★

Type: Short Knife

Effect: +5 Critical Hit Chance

Special: Increases Deception-based attacks. Enhanced Chakra Affinity (Silent Channeling).

Durability: 100%

Note: This blade doesn’t want to be seen.

Sakura stared, then exhaled quietly. So.... this is what 5 Luck gets me.

She blinked. “...Uh-oh.” She looked up, but the man behind the counter was still nose-deep in his logbook.

No reaction. Maybe he didn’t even know it was in his shop.

“Find something?” he rasped, glancing over.

Sakura hesitated. Then smiled—tight, polite. “Just a little backup. I’ll pay.”

It wasn’t even in a display case. Just sitting there beneath a crooked sign marked “Clearance – 60% Off.” Hidden behind a bunch of cracked wooden practice swords.

“…How is this even here?”

She glanced back at the counter. The coughing man was still flipping through his book, paying her absolutely no mind.

Sakura held the knife close, voice low. “Okay. No sudden moves. Just… walk this up like it’s a totally normal purchase.”

She carried it to the counter, trying not to draw attention to the way her fingers were definitely gripping it like treasure.

“How much for this one?” she asked casually.

He shrugged. “Five ryo. Call it scrap.” He says as he slid the knife into a simple wrap and tucked it into her pouch along with her receipt. No questions asked.

She tried not to look too stunned as she passed him the coins.

As she strapped the sheath under her inner sleeve, she felt it: the subtle hum against her chakra.

Not overpowering. Just responsive. It settled against her skin like it belonged there.

Useful. Very useful.

The sun was lower now, casting long shadows over the rooftops of Konoha. Sakura tucked her arms behind her head as she walked, the handle of the Ghost Fang pressing comfortably against the inside of her forearm. Not obtrusive.

Not flashy. Just there—waiting.

Her headband glinted under the light, snug across her forehead.

The walk home was familiar, but her senses picked up more than usual. Conversations in passing, the rhythm of feet on cobblestone, even the distant flick of a rooftop jump. Her body might’ve been on autopilot, but her brain wasn’t.

Too much had shifted in just a few days. She glanced at her system again.

> [Weapon Equipped: Ghost Fang – Concealed Blade]

Effect Active

[Status: Stable]

[Quest Notification Available – Pending Review]

Not yet, she thought.

She passed the dango stand, ignored the sizzling takoyaki stall, even when the scent made her stomach stir. She didn’t want food. Not from the market. Not right now.

She wanted—

“—home,” she murmured, rounding the final corner.

Their door was cracked open. Her mother’s voice drifted through the screen, half-scolding her dad about some cluttered tools in the yard again. Normalcy, in the middle of everything else.

Sakura stepped in, slipping off her sandals.

“I’m home,” she called out.

Mebuki leaned out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Dinner’s almost ready. Oh—you look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura said, setting her pouch on the side table. “Just… a lot of walking today.”

“Did you go out after registration?” her father asked, appearing from the back hall with a box of wires.

“Yeah. Visited a weapons store. Picked up something small,” she said casually.

“Useful?”

Sakura’s lips curled. “Very.”

“Then wash up and eat. You’ve got one week to rest, right?” her mom said, already turning back to the kitchen.

“Yeah. One week,” Sakura echoed, heading to her room. She shut the door behind her and stared at her desk for a moment before sitting down.

Ghost Fang was already tucked in her drawer, just for tonight. Her hand hovered over it for a second—then withdrew.

> [Pending Notification: Ghost Fang Compatibility Quest – View Now?]

[Y/N]

She didn’t hesitate this time.

> [Pending Notification: Ghost Fang Compatibility Quest – View Now?]

> [Y] Selected.

A faint shimmer passed across her vision as the system loaded the details. Clean, neat text replaced the lingering dusk in her mind.

> [Quest Unlocked: Bite of the Ghost Fang]

Description:

You have acquired a rare-grade concealed blade through sheer luck and awareness. Ghost Fang, forged from chakra-conductive alloy, has chosen you—or perhaps, you stumbled into it.

Prove yourself compatible with the weapon. A blade is only as sharp as its user.

Objectives:

– Successfully land a clean hit on a moving target using Ghost Fang (0/1)

– Maintain blade concealment during approach (0/1)

– Sharpen the blade manually (0/1)

– Practice unsheathing speed ten times (0/10)

---

Optional Objective:

– Channel chakra through Ghost Fang for 5 seconds (0/1)

(Requires Chakra Control Lv. 8 or higher)

---

Rewards:

– +300 EXP

– Weapon Bond: Ghost Fang (Passive Unlock)

– +1 Dexterity

– Skill Unlock: Silent Draw – Lv. 1

Sakura blinked at the list, then again at the reward. Weapon Bond? That was new.

Her eyes drifted to the drawer. It wasn’t glowing, but it felt like it should’ve been. Chakra-conductive alloy. Silent Draw.

Something inside her stirred—curiosity, definitely, but also something sharper. Anticipation.

“...Alright,” she muttered, stretching her arms out behind her.

She rose from her bed, crossed the room, and opened the drawer.

The blade sat nestled in its cloth wrapping, unassuming in size but sharp in presence. Ghost Fang. It didn’t hum or shimmer, but her fingers tingled the moment they brushed its hilt.

> [Item: Ghost Fang – Concealed Blade]

★★★★★

Durability: 100%

Chakra-Conductive: Yes

Concealment Bonus: High

Compatibility Status: Pending

She unsheathed it slowly. The metal caught the light—clean, pale, almost translucent at the edge. Lighter than her training kunai. Better balanced. Sleek. It felt more like a thought than a weapon.

She gripped it in reverse first, then forward, adjusting. The weight shifted naturally into her palm.

“Ghost Fang,” she murmured, testing the name. “Sounds dramatic.”

Still, it sat easily in her hand.

Too easily.

She narrowed her eyes.

> [Objective Available: Sharpen the blade manually.]

A whetstone wouldn't be hard to get. She could do that early, before anyone else hit the training grounds.

As for concealment... she eyed her pouch, then her thigh holster. No. Too obvious. But maybe inside the sash? Or hidden under the skirt seam if she adjusted the lining...

She was already planning.

The kind of planning she usually saved for tests.

It felt good.

Focused.

She rewrapped the blade with care and tucked it into the drawer again, hand lingering on it for a second longer than needed.

A slow exhale escaped her lips as she closed the drawer.

Ghost Fang rested quietly behind the wood, its presence no longer physically felt, but not forgotten. The faint residual hum of chakra still tingled at her fingertips. It left something in her chest buzzing—like the feeling before a storm breaks.

Sakura stood, rolled her shoulders once, then padded across the room. She opened the window to let in the night air. The scent of warm stone and distant flowers drifted in. Somewhere, a cicada droned.

She leaned against the frame, elbows perched on the sill, the sounds of the village settling into a soft hush. Her eyes swept over rooftops and darkened alleyways, the familiar curve of Konoha’s skyline anchoring her.

The exam was over.

Her name was on record.

She was officially a genin.

Ninja ID: 012601.

And she wasn’t dreaming anymore.

> [Quest: Ghost Fang Compatibility – Initiated]

Objective 1: Sharpen the blade manually (0/1)

Objective 2: Conceal Ghost Fang in a creative but practical way (0/1)

Objective 3: Use Ghost Fang in controlled sparring (0/1)

Reward: Ghost Fang (Bound), +100 EXP, +1 Dexterity, Passive Skill Unlocked: Weapon Familiarity

She smiled. Just a little because her heart is still doing the weird flutter thing. It's different from how her heart flutter when she sees Sasuke-kun.

No.“Alright then.”

She's 40 percent sure Naruto is still alive.

Chapter Text

It started with an offhand thought.

Well. Offhand for her.

It had been almost a week since graduation. One measly week of supposed “rest” before teams were finalized, and yet Sakura found herself jittery. Not because she was nervous about her placement—well, okay, maybe a little—but mostly because…

“Where the hell is Naruto?" She muttered it to herself, scowling into her half-empty juice bottle as she sat on the edge of a shaded veranda near the old market.

Konoha wasn’t that big. If you walked for twenty minutes in any direction, you’d hit a wall, a gate, or some bored chunin on patrol. People like Naruto—loud, orange, impossible to ignore—didn’t just disappear.

And yet she hadn’t seen him.

Not once.

Not even his obnoxious, trailing laugh.

No crashing into civilians. No accidentally starting fires. No bad pranks. No Naruto.

Just quiet.

No complaints echoing across the rooftops. No ramen-eating contests. Not even his usual threat to prank the Hokage Monument.

It was weird. Wrong.

She didn’t like it.

Sakura stood, dusted herself off, and began walking toward the grocery district, trying not to dwell on it.

That was when she passed a narrow alleyway near the spice vendor—one that emptied into a quiet, cobbled lane where old women tended their herbs and aired out their gossip like fresh laundry.

“Maybe he’s sick,” she mumbled to herself. Or maybe something really happened.

“You heard about that boy again—”

“Which one? The Hokage’s grandson?”

“No, no, the loud one. With the whiskers.”

“Oh him. Causing trouble again?”

Sakura’s ears twitched. She leaned slightly in, just casually. Not that she was eavesdropping or anything.

“Some kind of incident near the scroll vaults, I heard.”

“With blood, I heard. Poor Iruka-san.”

Sakura straightened.

Blood?

“Don’t tell me that boy tried to steal something—”

“No, no! Apparently he was tricked—by another teacher, Mizuki something?”

Sakura’s eyes widened.

Naruto… was alive. Okay. Good.

But Mizuki-sensei—“Ah, hush, someone might hear.”

Too late, she already did.

In the end, where does he even live?

She didn’t know.

They were classmates for years and she had no clue where Naruto actually went after school. What part of the village? 

She hadn’t thought to ask and somehow that stung.

She turned a corner near the Inuzuka compound and immediately regretted it.

“Oi, forehead!”

Sakura stopped mid-step.

Glared.

Kiba grinned like the menace he was, Akamaru barking once from inside his jacket.

Sakura crossed her arms. “Did you hear anything about Naruto recently?”

“Huh? Oh yeah. I forgot you asked last time, mom said he caused some huge mess last week.”

Her eyes narrowed.

Kiba’s smile widened, his grin making his eyes shine. “SO YOU WERE WORRIED~!”

“Shut up."

“Awwww! That’s so cute, you were really worried—” She hit him in the arm hard enough to make Akamaru squeak.

But deep down—beneath the indignation, beneath the scowl—Sakura exhaled a little. Just a little.

Naruto was alive. Safe-ish. And if Kiba and some old ladies knew, then that meant it wasn’t top secret.

Still…

Sakura made another note in her growing list of “weird stuff happening,” and for once, didn’t feel like laughing it off.

Kiba was still grinning like a smug mutt when Sakura knelt down briefly to scratch behind Akamaru’s ears.

The tiny white pup gave a pleased little yap, tail wagging like a blur, and Sakura felt a rare softness settle under her ribcage.

“You’re the only one with manners in this duo,” she muttered, mostly to the dog.

“Hey!” Kiba squawked.

Sakura straightened up and brushed her skirt down. “Anyway, I gotta go. Mom’s making me help with her shop.”

“That code for ‘I’m fleeing the conversation’?”

“No, it’s code for ‘I don’t want to waste another second standing next to a guy who says forehead as a greeting.’” She gave him a tight-lipped smile that could’ve doubled as a blade. “Bye, Kiba.”

Kiba opened his mouth for another jab, but she was already turning around with a little wave and walking off—fast enough to not be rude, slow enough to seem casual.

Akamaru barked once behind her, probably a goodbye.

Sakura didn’t look back.

Helping her mom sounded easy enough… but her mind still spun, tracing invisible strings between Mizuki, Naruto, and everything unspoken.

She’d let herself think more about it later.

And maybe—just maybe—she’d check near the Hokage Monument tomorrow morning. Just in case a certain idiot happened to be shouting at the sun again.

So she didn't really have anything to do except train the whole week.

The scent of clean linens and pressed fabric greeted Sakura as she stepped into her mother’s tailor shop. It was a small space, but every corner was utilized—ribbons in soft drawers, bolts of cloth organized by color and texture, sewing kits arranged with near-military precision.

Mebuki was already behind the counter, pen tucked behind her ear, marking out a delivery sheet.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up.

“I’m five minutes early.”

“Exactly.”

"You didn't wait for me."

Sakura rolled her eyes and moved behind the counter, tying on the simple beige apron her mother handed her. The act was familiar.

Soothing, in a strange way. The weight of the ninja headband on her forehead felt oddly out of place here.

A woman entered not long after, her toddler clinging to her leg while she gestured at some loose stitching on a sleeve.

Sakura smiled, bent down to greet the child, and listened carefully to the complaint. Her hands moved on their own—tagging the order, jotting notes, checking threads for wear.

Throughout the morning, a steady stream of customers came and went. Sakura found herself falling into rhythm, offering practiced smiles and polite bows.

She even cracked a joke once or twice, watching an old man’s eyes crinkle with laughter.

Civilian life is quiet, but not without motion.

Around midday, a small group of off-duty shinobi strolled in, laughing among themselves. Their relaxed demeanor stood out, flak jackets slung over one shoulder, sandals dusty from training or mission returns.

Sakura's gaze flickered toward them for a moment—nothing serious, just idle observation.

And then he stepped in.

The same man from the weapon shop. Lean, a little pale, with a reserved air that clung to him even when relaxed. His eyes met hers for a split second—brief, unreadable.

He moved through the shop without a word, stopping at the counter with a folded commission slip.

Mebuki took it from him with a smile that barely touched her mouth. "Ready by tomorrow."

He nodded once. He turned and left as quickly as he’d come.

> [Observe – Lv.10 Activated]

Name: Gekkō Hayate

Level: ???

Rank: Tokubetsu Jōnin

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

---

Strength: ???

Dexterity: High

Intelligence: High

Wisdom: Moderate

Luck: ??

---

Notable Traits:

– Chronic Illness Detected

– Swordsmanship Specialist

– Stealth Technique Proficiency

– Mental Fortitude: Above Average

---

Notes:

Analysis limited. Subject’s stats partially obscured due to level gap and concealment techniques.

Recommendation: Do not engage. Observe only.

Sakura blinked. It wasn’t much. But she noticed. Something about the way he moved, like he was always half-watching the shadows.

She returned to her task, snipping a fraying thread with silent precision. The bell above the door jingled again. Life continued.

Sakura’s fingers paused on the measuring tape she was rolling.

Hayate Gekkō.

She knew the name now—had seen it flash briefly over his head days ago, barely noticed while juggling system messages.

She hadn’t paid attention then. She paid attention now.

There was something different about seeing shinobi here, in her mother’s shop. In the market district.

Where the strongest people in the village came to get things hemmed and resized like anyone else. It made the lines blur, civilian and soldier, until you were just left with tired people in need of repairs.

Mebuki glanced at her. “Don’t gawk.”

“I’m not gawking.”

“You’re gawking.” Her mother’s mouth twitched, not unkind.

Sakura returned to the thread rack, organizing the reds. “He’s the guy from the weapon shop.”

“Mm.”

“You know him?”

“Not personally. He’s quiet. Keeps to himself.” A pause. “Smart eyes, though.”

Sakura hummed noncommittally.

Outside, the sunlight had shifted slightly—Konoha’s afternoon warmth bleeding in through the paneled windows. The tailors across the street had set up a fabric rack in the open air, and two children darted between bolts of dyed cotton. She could hear them laugh faintly.

Back in the shop, things slowed. A lull.

She stood near the window now, folding ribbons into even stacks. Her reflection ghosted faintly in the glass.

Behind her, Mebuki was finishing a hem job with quiet efficiency. And yet, her thoughts lingered—on a shinobi whose eyes didn’t linger but noticed everything anyway.

Hayate Gekkō. She wondered if he ever noticed her watching him.

“Go sweep the front,” Mebuki called out, voice distracted but sharp.

“Yeah, yeah."

The broom was where it always was. The step outside was warm. The air carried the scent of broth from the noodle shop two stalls down.

Sakura swept slowly, eyes half-lidded, breath steady.

The broom made soft strokes against the old wooden boards. Dust curled in lazy spirals, caught in the late afternoon sun. Sakura’s grip was casual, her motions unhurried. 

“You’re light on your footstep.”

Sakura jolted a little, her eyes flicking sideways.

Hayate stood just a few feet away, posture relaxed but alert, as if he hadn’t really left earlier—just circled back like a ghost.

His voice was hoarse, but not unfriendly.

“I’ve seen genin clomp through a mission office like they’re wearing bricks for shoes. You’re quiet,” he said, like it was just a comment on the weather.

“Uh.” She blinked, caught off guard. “Thanks?”

A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile, but something like one.

He looked down at the sweepings. “Still using civilian brooms?”

She narrowed her eyes, unsure if it was a joke. “We haven’t upgraded to chakra-powered cleaning tools yet, no. If that's even a thing."

Hayate gave a short, rasping chuckle. “Shame. Could’ve cut your training time in half.”

Sakura rested the broom against her shoulder. “What are you doing here again?”

He shrugged. “Picked up a repair slip. Forgot to include the measurements.”

That didn’t feel like the full truth, but she didn’t press. Maybe he was lying. Maybe not. She’d get better at figuring that out. Eventually.

Their eyes held for a moment—a flash of memory came to her head. If this is the old Sakura, she'd look down in respect, politeness—embarrassment.

She was playing ninja before. Then, as casually as he appeared, he nodded again. “Keep sweeping, genin.”

And just like that, he walked away.

Sakura exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She stared at the path he took, then down at her hands.

She huffed. “Weird.” But her grip on the broom had tightened slightly.

She didn’t stop sweeping.

"I'm done sweeping. I'm done for the day. Gonna train," Sakura called, peeking her head into the backroom.

Mebuki didn't look up from her ledger. "Don’t forget to soak the cloth samples."

"Already did!" Sakura shot back, with the half-truth confidence of someone planning to do it later.

Her face was flushed faintly from the sun, a light sheen of sweat on her brow from the afternoon rush. Stray threads clung to her beige apron, but her posture is straight. The bright gleam of her Konoha headband caught the light as she tilted her head, pink hair pulled into a taut, efficient ponytail.

Green eyes sharp. Purposeful. Her expression hovered somewhere between eagerness and calculation.

Not here to be cute. Not today. 

But why does she look cuter and cuter as day pass. Haaaaaa.

She wiped her palms on the apron, untied it in one fluid motion, and hung it neatly by the wall. Then she was gone, boots tapping softly against the wooden floor before the bell above the door chimed in her wake.

"Bye, will be back before dinner!" Sakura walked through the market with her hands tucked behind her back, eyes flicking between stalls more out of habit than interest.

Dried herbs swayed gently in bundles outside an apothecary. A produce vendor argued with a shinobi over the price of pickled daikon.

Someone called her name once—she nodded, smiled—but didn’t slow her pace.

She wasn’t in uniform, not really, but the headband snug on her forehead made people glance twice.

The civilian air didn’t cling to her the same way anymore. Still, it was familiar. Dusty stones underfoot. The scent of grilling meat.

The murmur of old women trading gossip under sun-bleached umbrellas.

She broke off from the crowd as she neared the edge of the district, where the noise thinned and the rooftops gave way to trees. There was an old public training ground nearby—flat dirt, faded target posts, a few cracked logs for taijutsu practice.

Three figures were already there.

Kids. Her age, maybe a little younger. Civilian classmates from the Academy days—ones who hadn’t passed yet, or are younger. One was practicing kicks with all the grace of a flailing chicken. Another was throwing poorly balanced kunai into the dirt. The third was just sitting under a tree, drinking from a tin water bottle.

They glanced at her, stiffening. One of them gave a polite, unsure wave.

She didn’t wave back. Just nodded once. She didn’t mind them. But she didn’t miss them either.

Her steps slowed as she reached the far corner of the grounds, far enough to be out of earshot. She set her bag down, cracked her knuckles, rolled her shoulders.

Her fingers brushed the hilt of the knife—that knife.

Ghost Fang.

Still tucked safely in her pouch, quiet as a breath but never quite forgettable.

Her eyes flicked upward. Afternoon light filtered through the trees. No one else was close. No one watching.

She exhaled slowly, steadying her breath.

She crouched down, unbuckling the flap of her pouch, fingers careful and deliberate. The blade slid into her hand like it belonged there—light, cold, and faintly humming against her skin.

Ghost Fang: Pending Compatibility.

Sakura stared at it for a second. It didn’t glow. It didn’t whisper. But it didn’t feel ordinary, either.

She didn’t unsheathe it just yet.

Instead, she moved through her warm-up. Slow stretches, careful lunges, joint rotations. Her body remembered the motions now—muscle learning catching up with the System’s passive buffs.

No ache in her limbs today. No trembling hands.

She exhaled through her nose and started simple: a set of precise kunai throws at the bark of a nearby tree. Three landed in tight formation. One was slightly off-center.

Her gaze narrowed.

She did it again. Then again.

After the third set, she paused and finally drew the knife.

It made no sound, but her fingers tingled slightly as chakra brushed metal. She turned it in her hand, tested the grip, adjusted her stance.

And then—

> [Quest Activated: Ghost Fang Compatibility Trial – Stage 1]

Objective: Channel Chakra through Ghost Fang for 10 consecutive seconds. Warning: Incompatible users may experience feedback.

"...Perfect," she muttered under her breath.

No hesitation. She drew in her chakra, felt the coils stir beneath her skin, and directed a steady stream down into the blade.

It resisted. For a second, it pushed back, like shoving a key into the wrong lock.

Then—

It shifted.

Not physically, but in her senses. The feedback vanished. The knife warmed in her hand, not temperature-wise but in signature. As if it recognized her.

> [Chakra Sync: 4 seconds... 5 seconds...]

Her hands trembled slightly. It was subtle, but the tension in her shoulders told her she was working harder than it looked.

> [7 seconds... 8...]

Sweat gathered along her brow.

> [9... 10...]

---

> [Quest Updated: Compatibility Trial – Stage 2 Unlocked.]

She released the chakra flow and exhaled sharply. Her knees didn’t buckle, but they wanted to.

The blade was still in her grip. Still light. Still silent. But not unfamiliar anymore.

"...Alright, then," she whispered, voice dry.

Sakura sat cross-legged on the grass, arms draped loosely over her knees. The breeze stirred strands of her pink hair loose from her tie, but she didn’t bother brushing them back. The blade was at her side, untouched for now.

Across the field, the familiar trio was still at it.

“No, no—your elbow’s too high!” Mayu said, laughing as she mimicked her friend’s clumsy stance. “You’ll break your wrist like that.”

“I won’t! That’s how the guy in The Blade of Fire held it!” Haruki protested, readjusting his grip on the wooden sword with stubborn energy.

Daichi snorted. “The guy in Blade of Fire died in chapter six.”

“Exactly,” Mayu added. “Because he held it like that.”

Sakura let out a small breath through her nose, not quite a laugh. Just enough to ease the tightness in her chest.

She watched as they circled each other again, their wooden swords clacking lightly. Their movements were exaggerated, all wide swings and fancy footwork. But their joy was real.

“Okay, okay, reset!” Haruki panted, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Let’s go again. Winner buys takoyaki.”

“From your allowance?” Daichi said.

“Yeah right,” Mayu grinned. “We all know your mom still packs you snacks.”

“Shut up!”

Sakura shifted slightly, brushing grass from her leg.

She imagined herself stepping in, offering advice. Maybe helping Mayu square her shoulders, correcting Haruki’s grip. She could.

She’d leveled throwing to 7. She had Combat Insight.

Instead, she leaned back on her palms, let the sun warm her face, and listened as Daichi shouted, “You can’t just swing it like a stick! It’s a sword, idiot!”

Sakura smiled barely, "That's because your balance is all off,” she said simply, rising to her feet.

The three froze mid-bicker, heads snapping toward her.

Haruki blinked. “Huh?”

Sakura dusted grass from her pants as she walked over, the faint clink of her kunai pouch drawing attention. Her hitai-ate gleamed faintly in the sun.

Mayu squinted. “Wait… Haruno? Sakura Haruno?”

“Yeah,” Daichi said slowly. “You passed too?”

It's said like that because Sakura is Sakura. Just one of Sasuke-kun’s fangirls despite being in the Clan kids class. She sucks at Taijutsu, at spars yet great at theoretical and kunoichi classes.

Sakura didn’t answer that. She just gestured to Haruki. “Your front foot’s turned out. That’s why your swings feel weird. And your grip’s too tight. You’re trying to control the blade with your arms.”

Haruki flushed, clutching his practice sword. “I’m not—”

“You are.”

There wasn’t meanness in her tone, but there wasn’t softness either. Just blunt, flat truth. Her eyes moved to Mayu. “You lean too far forward when you counter. Good way to get tossed.”

Mayu’s mouth opened, then closed. “Oh.”

“Here.” Sakura stepped closer, positioning her hands lightly on Mayu’s arms. “You’re fast, but your center’s loose. Anchor with your back leg. Like this.”

Mayu mimicked the stance. “Whoa. That feels… better.”

Haruki raised his hand like a kid in class. “Can you show me too?”

Sakura nodded once. She circled behind him, adjusted his feet, then pulled his elbow gently down. “Don’t muscle the swing. Use your hips. Let the blade move through the line—not across it.”

“...You sound like a real shinobi,” Daichi muttered, watching her with something like awe.

Sakura looked at him. “Not really. Just common sense."

Silence for a beat.

“Oh. Right.”

She stepped back. “Try again.”

The three reformed their mock battle, newly aware of their stances, their footing, the placement of their arms. It was clumsy, but better.

Sakura sat again in the grass, resting her chin in one hand. She watched them move—clumsy swings, uneven chakra flow, half-hearted footwork—and something in her chest twisted.

"Are you sure you really want to be shinobi?"

The question slipped out, flat and sudden.

The three froze mid-motion. Haruki frowned. Mayu blinked. Daichi tilted his head.

Sakura blinked too. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

She looked away, jaw tightening. "Sorry. Nevermind."

But the question lingered in her head. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides.

She remembered being like them—not that long ago. Not really. Obsessing over Sasuke. Daydreaming. Competing with Ino over nothing. Her idea of being a kunoichi was just… looking cool. Cute. Wanted.

She hadn’t known anything back then.

Haruki opened his mouth, confused maybe, but Sakura was already dusting off her pants.

"Keep the job well done. Mmmb," she muttered, half-tripping over the words as she stood. Her throat felt tight for some reason.

Mayu exchanged a glance with the others, but no one said anything.

Sakura didn’t wait for them to. She gave a small nod—half apology, half farewell—and turned away.

Her boots crunched quietly as she stepped off the dirt ring and back into the grass.

They weren’t her teammates. They weren’t her responsibility. She wasn’t their senpai. She just—

She sighed, low. Not annoyed. Just tired. Her own thoughts gnawed at her more than any enemy could. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe just self-awareness.

Either way, she left the training ground with her hands in her pockets, the ache in her chest familiar.

Better than before. Still not enough.

The walk home was slow. Not tired-slow—just heavy with thought. The sun had begun its descent, casting long, warm shadows between the buildings. Civilians passed her by, carrying baskets or chatting with neighbors, the usual evening lull setting in.

Sakura turned the corner toward home, her shoulders finally starting to relax.

Then—

[New Quest Received: “Help Your Mother: Delivery Request”]

Objective: Pick up the parcel from Yamanaka Flowers and deliver it to Mebuki before sundown.

Reward: +50 EXP, +Civic Reputation (Minor), +1 Mebuki Affection Point, + 1 reward (TBD)

Timer: 39:59

She squinted at the glowing blue text hovering just above her field of vision.

“Seriously?” she muttered.

As if on cue, the front door creaked open before she could even step inside.

“Sakura! I forgot—can you run an errand before dinner? I asked Inoichi-san to hold something at the shop for me—”

“I get it,” Sakura said quickly, lifting a hand. Her voice was low, more resigned than irritated. “I know.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow from the doorway, towel slung over her shoulder. “...Thanks?"

Sakura didn’t say anything else. She adjusted her pouch and turned back down the street, expression unreadable.

The glowing quest window flickered once and minimized to the corner of her vision.

Yamanaka Flowers sat at the corner of the street like a well-kept secret—cool green vines climbing the eaves, the scent of earth and blossoms thick in the summer air.

The door chimed gently as Sakura stepped inside.

“Inoichi-san?” she called, voice even.

There was the soft scrape of wood and a low hum from the back. A moment later, Inoichi Yamanaka stepped through the bead curtain, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a cloth in hand. His blond hair was tied neatly, though strands had come loose with sweat and work.

His gaze fell on her—forehead protector snug, posture straight.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Sakura-chan,” he said, voice smooth. “Didn’t expect you. Thought your mother would come herself.”

“She’s busy.” Sakura stepped forward. “She said thank you.”

He handed over a carefully wrapped package without another word.

As she reached to take it, his eyes lingered—not long, not sharp. Just a second too still.

A subtle narrowing. A flicker down to her hands, her stance. The faintest tilt of his head, thoughtful but unreadable.

Sakura caught it, just barely. But she didn’t say anything. He offered a nod. “Tell her I’ll have the rest ready tomorrow.”

“Of course,” she said.

Just then, Ino appeared from the back, ponytail a little damp from watering the greenhouse. Her brows lifted slightly when she saw Sakura, and her gaze dropped, just once, to the headband.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Errand,” Sakura answered simply, the same way she always had.

“Right.”

Silence stretched a little too long.

“Congratulations on passing,” Ino added after a moment, tone leveled.

“You too."

Inoichi cleared his throat. “Alright, alright. No drama near the orchids.”

Ino rolled her eyes. “There’s no drama.”

“Mmhmm,” her father murmured.

Sakura dipped her head. “Thanks again. I’ll get going.”

She turned before anything else could stretch. The door chimed behind her as she stepped out, sunlight catching on the edge of her headband.

Back on the street, she blinked against the brightness, the warmth pressing close like a second skin. The wrapped bundle nestled against her side, light and fragile—just flowers, but it felt heavier.

Her legs moved without urgency. Konoha bustled around her, merchants calling out the day’s specials, a toddler shrieking with laughter as her mother gave chase.

She passed two older women sweeping their porch and nodded politely. They nodded back, but their eyes lingered just a bit longer on her headband.

She wasn’t used to it yet—what it meant.

She took a side path instead of the usual one home, tracing the edge of the canal where red paper lanterns fluttered on laundry lines. Her mind wandered, her body moving automatically, breath calm.

She stopped at a stone bridge, rested her hands on the warm railing.

A bird chirped overhead.

Her fingers curled tighter around the bundle.

"...That reminds me... I haven't been to the library for weeks," she muttered, a small frown tugging her lips. “Right.”

She turned away from the idea and headed home, the walk familiar now—sloping streets, clipped hedges, shopfronts beginning to close for the evening.

The day had stretched longer than expected, but she didn’t mind. The quiet felt earned.

By the time she reached the front step, the sky had already begun its slow shift to amber. She slid open the door, kicked off her sandals, and padded inside.

“Mama?” she called.

“In the back!”

Sakura didn’t say anything else. She walked to the kitchen, placed the bundle carefully on the counter, and wrote a quick note beside it. For the orchids. From the Yamanakas.

No fanfare. Just done.

As she turned to head upstairs—

> [Side Quest Complete: “Errand – Mebuki’s Request”]

+50 EXP

+Small Reputation Boost (Civilian Community)

+Item Received: Dried Floral Sachet (Household Use – Slightly Restores Chakra When Carried)

She blinked at the pop-up, then looked down. The sachet was already tucked into her apron pocket—lavender, chamomile, and something faintly sweet.

"...Huh," she murmured. “Cute.”

> [Item Added to Inventory: Dried Floral Sachet]

[Effect: Passive – Slight Chakra Regeneration when resting or sleeping. Bonus minor boost to Chakra Recovery Rate when indoors.]

She raised an eyebrow.

“…Not bad.”

She climbed the stairs slowly. Her room greeted her with its usual order: a small desk, her bedroll, scrolls arranged neatly beside the windowsill. She pulled the sachet out and hung it on the corner post of her bed, where it could catch the light breeze.

Then she sat down and stretched her legs.

For the first time in days, her thoughts didn’t immediately race forward. Just for a little while, she let herself rest.

Chapter Text

Sakura woke up to morning light cutting through the shutters, dust motes spinning in the soft beam that landed across her face. Her system didn’t greet her with a level-up or new quest.

No blinking notification. No pop-up. No mission timer ticking down.

Just silence.

And still, she didn't get up right away.

Usually, she would. There was a rhythm to her mornings now: wake, wash, stretch, run, train, check quests. A loop she had honed into muscle memory, as clean and tight as a folded sheet.

But today, she lay still.

Her eyes drifted to the edge of her vision, as if expecting a translucent blue prompt to hover there.

Nothing.

The stillness made her more aware of herself. Of her body against the futon, the press of her fingers over her blanket, the quiet hum of Konoha waking outside her window.

She turned onto her side and stared at the wall.

She let out a quiet breath. She'd changed.

Not in any huge, dramatic way. Not with fanfare or lightning or some kind of emotional speech about will and destiny. But she could feel it. Like a hairline crack down the middle of her old self. Sakura Haruno, who once thought about shinobi life in abstract terms—get strong, marry Sasuke-kun, smile on rooftops. She used to cry about grades.

About being alone. About a forehead that stood out more than her intelligence

Sakura sat up and rubbed her eyes.

She still wasn’t where she wanted to be. Not even close. Her fingers brushed against the Ghost Fang tucked into her inventory space.

> [Pending Notification: Ghost Fang Compatibility Test - Incomplete]

She hadn’t finished it.

She would. But not this morning.

Today, she would start slow. Get up. Make tea. Maybe read. Maybe help at her mom's shop. Think a little longer.

Sakura stared at her reflection, fingers resting on the cool ceramic edge of the sink. The light from the small window caught in her hair, throwing pale pink streaks against her cheeks.

Her brows furrowed faintly.

It's just… She didn’t know.

That was the truth. Everything had happened too fast—missions, system, new skills, talking to others—something that the old Sakura doesn't have.

Watching Sasuke’s back as if it didn’t matter, and then looking up and seeing that it did. Her gaze drifted lower, to her collarbone, the faint pulse at her throat.

“Ugh.”

She splashed cold water on her face. It didn't help.

There was a strangeness growing under her skin—not unwelcome, but not familiar either. She felt it in the way her hands moved more surely, how her mind jumped steps ahead of others, how she was no longer content with just being there. 

"...Cha. Dramatic," she muttered to herself. 

Sakura stared into the mirror, towel around her neck, hair damp and sticking to her cheeks. She frowned. “What even is this feeling?”

She pulled her face back and made a silly expression—squinting one eye, puffing her cheeks. Nope. Didn’t help.

Her reflection just looked… weird. Like her, but not. Smarter? Tired? Sneakier? “Ugh, I’m overthinking again.”

She turned, then turned back. Looked again.

It's just her—Sakura Haruno. Same forehead. Same green eyes. Same annoying little flutter in her chest every time she thought about leveling up or looking at someone’s combat stat.

She tugged her towel tighter.

Everything was moving too fast.

One second she was trying to memorize the difference between fire and wind nature releases in a textbook—and the next, she was training literally. 

And the system… the system kept pushing her. Quests. Skills. Weird passive buffs that made her pick up on conversations across a field like she was genius.

She made a face again. “I’m not that impressive,” she muttered. “Just got lucky.”

Then paused. Her mouth twisted.

“…Literally.”

She turned from the mirror, pulling her hair into a messy bun as she walked toward her bedroll. “Tch. Don’t get cocky, Sakura. You’re still behind. You still suck at genjutsu and taijutsu, and you still panic when a kunai comes too close.”

But…

She glanced toward her scrolls. The notes she made. The ones she actually understood now. The fights where she moved faster than she ever had, even if she barely scraped through.

“…Not that bad, either.”

It wasn’t confidence, exactly. More like a grudge. Against herself.

Today was the day.

The morning light was soft, filtered through the paper-thin blinds and quietly brushing over her desk, her scrolls, the faint gleam of her polished forehead protector. Her reflection in the mirror blinked back at her—green eyes, clear skin, and slightly flushed cheeks.

She reached up and smoothed her hair, letting it fall straight and loose for once. No tight ribbon today. Just her.

The red qipao fit snugly—bright and simple, her hitai-ate tied firmly around her head. She tilted her face slightly. Looked again.

“...You’re so cute,” she said, voice chipper—before her lips twisted into a grimace.

Ugh.

Sakura turned away from the mirror immediately, shoving the brush into the drawer with unnecessary force. “Why do I say things like that out loud?” she muttered under her breath, ears red.

Her room was already tidy. Bed made. Notes stacked and sealed inside her [inventory]. Her satchel lay near the door. She'd double-checked everything last night.

No excuses to linger.

“Sakura, isn’t it time for you to go to class?!” her mom called from the hallway, voice faint but urgent.

Sakura raised her voice just enough. “Be right there!”

She stood in place for a moment longer, rubbing at her elbow. Her reflection lingered in the corner of her eye.

Inside, something tugged. Not nerves exactly. Not dread. Just…

“...Augh.” How long was she going to treat her like she's still a kid?

She grabbed her satchel.

And paused.

Then whispered quietly to herself before stepping out: “Team assignments. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

Hopefully... she still gets to be in his team too.

The streets were warm with sunlight and dust, early enough that most vendors were still setting up but late enough that bakery smells were already curling in the air. Sakura walked with practiced steps, not rushing, not dragging—just moving.

Her satchel was light. Everything she needed was either in her [inventory] or already in her head.

She turned the corner near the market district when the chime of a door caught her ear.

Yamanaka Flowers.

Ino stepped out, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear with a soft flick, her own red forehead protector tied like a stylish belt at her waist. She looked bright. Unbothered. Something light and sharp all at once.

They spotted each other at the same time.

Sakura offered a polite nod—neutral. Nothing too friendly. Nothing too cold.

Ino raised a brow. “Forehead.”

Sakura smiled, small and stiff. “Pig.”

Ino’s eyes narrowed for half a second—then she stepped forward to walk beside her. Just like that. As if they hadn’t been lowkey competing for years.

“You look... decent,” Ino said casually, glancing sideways at Sakura’s untied hair which was normally in a tie these past few weeks.

“You sound surprised,” Sakura replied.

Ino shrugged, mock-innocent. “I thought you’d do some complicated braid. You always overdo it when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Sakura said. Then after a beat: “Okay, maybe a little.”

Of course she is.

Ino grinned, satisfied. “You better not get assigned to Sasuke-kun’s team. I’d never forgive you.”

Sakura shot her a deadpan look. “You say that like you’d have a choice.”

Both of them knows Ino would be on the Ino-Shika-Cho team like her parents, grandparents, ancestor did.

Ino smirked but didn’t argue. Sakura took a step forward, steady and deliberate.

Ino immediately mirrored her, heel snapping down half a second after. Their shoulders were aligned, their pace identical—neither willing to fall behind.

Their eyes slid sideways at the same time. Glares met in full force.

“…Don’t,” Sakura muttered under her breath.

Ino smirked. “Too late.”

They both broke into a light jog, then a faster one—shoving off the cobblestone with just enough restraint to avoid outright sprinting like lunatics.

The Academy gates loomed ahead.

Their shoes hit the stone steps almost in unison.

“Move—”

“No, you move—”

They shoved at each other’s elbows at the same time as they hit the doorframe.

“First!” they shouted in stereo, their voices bouncing off the hall walls as they wedged through the Academy doors side by side.

A ding echoed in Sakura’s mind.

> [System Notification]

Title Progress Updated: [Shinobi Rivalry]

Rival Detected: Ino Yamanaka

Rivalry Status: Healthy (Competitive)

Current Bonus Activated: +2 DEX, +2 CHA while in direct competition with this rival.

Bonus Duration: Until Event Conclusion

Note: Rivalries may affect relationships. Handle with care.

New Passive Unlocked: [Competitive Spirit] — Temporary stat boosts during skill challenges if a Rival is present.

[Acknowledged?] — Y/N

Sakura’s eye twitched.

Great. The system’s feeling this, too.

Ino huffed beside her, winded but smug. “Tied, huh?”

“Hardly,” Sakura said, looking nonchalant. “You're breathing heavier.”

“You’re delusional.” They stepped into the classroom and the few kids already seated turned their heads at the dramatic entrance.

“Ah,” Shikamaru muttered from his seat near the window, not even looking up. “Here we go.”

Sakura straightened, composed herself, and made her way to her usual seat with faux elegance. Ino slid into hers a row down, flicking her hair just so.

Okay, Sakura thought, smoothing her shirt. It’s childish. But it’s also kind of fun.

“You know,” Sakura said, folding her arms and cocking a hip, “why don’t you go sit next to your beloved Sasuke-kun? Since you’re so obsessed.”

Ino’s eyes sparked. “Oh? So you’re saying he’s mine now?”

What—no?

Sakura’s mouth opened. “What—! No! That’s not—!”

“Ohhh,” Ino drawled, leaning on her desk with mock sweetness. “Thanks for the blessing, Forehead.”

“You snake!”

“You fungus!”

“You bleached weed!”

“Are they gonna throw hands?” Kiba leaned forward eagerly from the back row.

“I hope not,” Shikamaru muttered, arms crossed behind his head. “It’s too early to get involved in girl drama.”

Choji popped a chip in his mouth and nodded. “Kinda fun to watch though.”

“They do this every week,” Naruto said, squinting from where he was sprawled on his desk. “Same fight, same yelling—hey, wait, they must be talkin’ 'bout me?"

Ino and Sakura both shouted, “Shut up, Naruto!”

A vein popped on Naruto’s forehead. “Tch. Rude.”

But Sakura only half-registered it this time. The noise and the usual banter faded just a bit. Her eyes had flicked instinctively toward Naruto—grinning, loud, messy-haired and barely paying attention—and something inside her uncoiled with quiet relief.

He looked okay.

Better than the last time I saw him, she thought. And Mizuki-sensei’s probably gone.

[Uzumaki Naruto – Lv. 6]

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: Mild Chakra Disruption, Digestive Unease (???)

Level 6?

Wasn’t he level 4… a week ago?

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She stared at the incomplete numbers, the hazy status effects. The question marks. The system usually gave her clean readouts—especially with how often she used Observe.

But now it was just spitting out static and question marks like it didn’t know what it was looking at.

Why the hell can’t I see his HP or Chakra? She had seen them before. Plenty of times.

And now?

Now it was acting like he was above her clearance level. “…Digestive unease?”

Her fingers flexed lightly in her lap. No ominous system warnings. No strange aura. No sudden pop-ups. Just… Naruto, bickering back, as he always did.

Phew.

She exhaled once, deeply.

And then Ino turned to her with a smug smile and mouthed, “Mine.”

Sakura’s temper snapped right back.

“LIKE HELL HE IS!”

“Too late, Forehead!”

“Oh please—if he had taste, you wouldn’t be in the top ten!”

“Oh? And you think you are?”

“Obviously! Look at this face!” Sakura gestured at herself proudly. “I’m adorable.”

“Then why hasn’t he looked at you once today?”

That made Sakura flinch—just slightly. Not enough to give Ino the satisfaction. She gritted her teeth and shot back, “He’s just overwhelmed by all the mediocrity near him.”

“You mean you?”

“Keep talking, Ino-pig. I’ll let your roots grow out.”

Ino gasped. “You wouldn’t dare—!”

From the row behind them, Naruto was openly whispering to Kiba and Shikamaru. “How come when I yell in class, I get hit with an eraser?”

“‘Cause you’re annoying,” Shikamaru said flatly.

Kiba nodded. “They’re entertaining. You’re just loud.”

“WHAT?!”

Chōji tossed him a rice cracker.

“Thanks, Chōji!"

As Sakura rolled her eyes and turned forward again, a faint ding echoed in her ears—one only she could hear.

> [System Warning]

Detection Alert: Unknown presence observing current user.

Status: Surveillance Source—Unidentified.

Advisement: Maintain caution. Disguise intent.

Her smile twitched. She straightened her back just slightly.

> [Observe Skill — Passive Scan Active...]

...

...

Unable to locate precise source.

Sakura’s lips pressed together, faint tension growing in her shoulders.

“Forehead? You good?” Ino leaned in, a brow raised.

“Huh? Yeah,” Sakura said, quickly masking it with a huff. “Just thinking how you’ll cry when I'm on Sasuke-kun's team.”

Ino scoffed. “Keep dreaming.”

Sakura tilted her head slightly as her eyes flicked across the room—Sasuke still brooding near the window, Naruto chewing something suspicious, Shikamaru half-asleep.

No chakra signature that she could feel. No eye contact. Nothing obvious.

But she didn’t like that alert.

Her fingers tapped rhythmically on her desk.

> [Note: New passive skill behavior forming. Trigger—psychological pressure.]

[Latent condition: Situational Awareness.]

Huh...

Sakura’s system alert still echoed in the back of her mind, faint and insistent like a tickle on the back of her neck. She was only half listening to Ino as they snapped at each other again—

“You’re gonna cry when you end up on a team with nobodies,” Ino said, arms crossed.

“Oh yeah? Pretty sure I can handle anything if I survived growing up with you.”

“Ha-ha—”

THUMP

A loud scuffle near the front row made everyone glance over.

Naruto had somehow managed to trip while trying to hop onto the desk next to Sasuke’s. In a half-second disaster of flailing limbs and poor choices, he crashed forward, hands skidding—and his mouth—

—smooshed right into Sasuke’s.

Time slowed.

Eyes widened.

Someone gasped.

“...!!!” Naruto recoiled violently, falling backward and knocking his stool over.

Sasuke sat frozen for one full second before his hands clenched, his eye twitching with an unspoken horror only a 12-year-old boy could know.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Naruto screamed, flailing on the ground. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO—WHAT—WHY—WHY WAS HIS FACE THERE!?!?”

Kiba burst out laughing so hard he slid off his chair.

Even Shikamaru cracked one eye open. “Wow.”

Ino blinked, stunned. 

Sakura covered her mouth, but she was not laughing—nope. Her shoulders just shook because of... the stress. From the surveillance warning. Yep.

> [System Notification]

Achievement Unlocked: “Unexpected Witness – Rank D”

You witnessed something unspeakable. You will never be the same.

Reward: +10 EXP (Trauma-based adaptation)

Sakura stared at the pop-up with dead eyes.

“I hate you,” she whispered. "I hate you so much."

Sasuke finally moved, standing abruptly and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt like it had been dipped in poison.

Naruto was still on the floor, convulsing. “WHY AM I ALIVE—” Even the system’s watchful warning dulled under the sheer absurdity

And she didn’t miss it—Sasuke, now sitting again, was staring out the window like he was dissociating from his body.

“Day’s already cursed,” Sakura mumbled.

The room held its collective breath.

Then—"EEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!"

Several fangirls screamed in horror. Not for Naruto, but for Sasuke.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO SASUKE-KUN?!”

“Naruto, you monster!”

“You stole his first kiss—”

“You’re so dead!” another girl screeched, already stepping over desks like she was ready to strangle Naruto with her bare hands.

Naruto shot up, hands raised in surrender. “Hey, whoa, it was an accident! Dattebayo!” He backed up until he hit the wall. “I tripped—why was his face there?!”

“You…” one of the girls muttered, cracking her fingers.

“You’re finished,” another added, eyes gleaming with a mix of betrayal and bloodlust.

Even Kiba snorted through his laughter. “Dude, you’re about to die. You're lucky Forehead's not as crazy as them."

Sasuke was still frozen. He hadn’t moved a muscle, and it was honestly starting to feel scarier.

Sakura slid half a step back from her desk. Just in case.

[System Notification]

Threat Level: Social Aggro – Mild

Advisable Action: Evade or redirect mob hostility.

She didn't even want to interfere with this one.

Sasuke finally stood, shoulders stiff. The girls took that as a sign to rally behind him like knights avenging a prince.

Sakura watched Naruto press himself flatter against the wall like a badly painted scroll. “It wasn’t romantic!!” he cried.

Then—

BAM!

The classroom door slammed open.

“WHAT is going on in here!?” Iruka-sensek bellowed, face already red.

Naruto flinched like he'd been struck.

The fangirls froze mid-charge.

Sasuke sat down again with mechanical precision, arms crossed, gaze still glued to the window like he might will himself into another plane of existence. 

Sakura exhaled. She caught Shikamaru mouthing troublesome while Choji offered Naruto a sympathetic snack from his sleeve.

And honestly?

"...I wanted his first kiss though." She muttered on her hands.

"Settle down!"

The class finally settled. Naruto slumped low in his seat, face flushed a dangerous red as he muttered about toothbrushes and bleach. Sasuke looked like he was still buffering.

Iruka-sensei set his clipboard on the front desk with a solid thunk. His voice rang clear:

“As of today, you are all officially genin—leaf village shinobi.”

A ripple moved through the class. Straightened spines. Quiet gasps. Even Kiba stopped whispering to Akamaru.

“To get here, you faced difficult trials and hardships. You endured lectures, drills, chakra control exercises, clone tests—some of you barely passed.”

Iruka-sensek's gaze flickered just slightly. It passed over Naruto, whose head was still down, one eye twitching faintly as if he's worried.

Sakura caught it.

Observe.

> Iruka Umino — Level ???

Instructor, Leaf Academy

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: [Healing Wound], [Stiff Left Shoulder], [Mental Fatigue]

Notes: Kind-hearted, disciplined. Strong emotional attachments to students. High patience threshold. Cares deeply.

Warning: Recent injury not from sparring. Cause: Unknown.

Sakura blinked.

Healing Bruises? Not from sparring?

Her brows drew together faintly, but she didn’t react otherwise. Still, the thread of curiosity tightened in her gut.

Iruka-sensei continued:

“But that’s nothing. What comes next will be more difficult—Now, you're only genin, first level ninjas. This world isn’t fair. It won’t wait for you to be ready.”

He paused, jaw tight. The classroom had gone still again.

“You’ll be placed into teams of three. Each squad will be lef by a Jōnin, an elite ninja. These will be your comrades. Your first missions. Your first life-and-death experiences.”

A few students exchanged nervous looks.

He straightened. “When I call your name, come to the front. Team assignments begin now.”

Sakura inhaled slowly, but her mind wandered back to the [Healing Wound] tag.

Ino leaned forward on her desk, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger with deliberate ease. “Well, someone’s got to be in Sasuke-kun’s group. I wonder who~”

Sakura didn’t even look at her. “Not you, definitely.”

The air between them cracked like static.

Ino’s smile sharpened. “Is that so, Forehead?”

Sakura turned with a slow, practiced smirk. “Yeah. It is, Pig.”

Across the room, Naruto blinked. “Wait, what’s happening?”

Choji whispered, “They’re doing that weird telepathic thing again.”

Shikamaru sighed. “Troublesome…”

“Someone’s gonna die,” Kiba muttered, leaning back as Ino and Sakura subtly squared their shoulders.

The tension simmered until—

> [Warning: You are being Observed]

Passive Skill: Combat Insight — Active

Observation Status: [Analyzing Source…]

Result: Unknown Target. Caution Advised.

Again?

Sakura’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Her eyes flicked across the room. No obvious chakra flares. No obvious stares. Just the buzz of students waiting, tapping fingers, shifting legs, whispering.

But the sensation didn’t leave.

Whoever—or whatever—was watching wasn’t doing it normally.

Her hand slid slightly to her side, brushing the edge of her desk.

Ino gave her a weird look. “Uh…you good?”

Sakura blinked once. "Fine."

But her pulse had picked up, and her system’s alert didn’t fade.

> Unknown source remains. Tracking disabled. Recommend heightened awareness.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

She tried to focus. Iruka-sensei was still announcing names. The usual pattern.

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of her desk as the phantom alert lingered. Her heartbeat was steady, but there was a tightness in her chest she didn’t like.

She tried to focus.

Iruka-sensei’s voice cut through the classroom’s buzzing tension. He’d begun listing the teams, one by one—standard format. Three-man squads, grouped by compatible skillsets, personality, chakra aptitude, or sometimes just pure convenience.

“Team 5… Shibata Ken, Osamu Taira, Akira Kai…”

Sakura exhaled. The hum of background chatter dulled around her. The warning faded from her vision—at least visually—but the sense of pressure didn’t.

Then—

“Team Seven…” Iruka-sensei paused, and Sakura blinked.

Her breath caught.

“Uzumaki Naruto.”

A groan echoed from the back of the class. “Yes! Wait—wait, that’s me!”

Kiba leaned forward from his chair, grinning wide. “Oh hey, I wonder who's gonna do the babysitting.”

Naruto spun around, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Iruka continued before Naruto could retaliate.

“Haruno Sakura.”

Sakura jolted upright a little. She looked around as if confirming what she’d just heard.

Kiba’s grin widened. “Oof. Sorry, Forehead.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. A flicker of tension wound through her spine.

Babysitting Naruto. She barely had time to reflect on it when Iruka-sensek's next words made her breath still.

“…Uchiha Sasuke.”

There was an audible squeal from three different parts of the classroom. Fangirls clutched their desks as if to anchor themselves to reality.

Sakura blinked. Then sat straighter.

Wait. Wait.

“Wait what.” Naruto blinked, looking around as though someone would correct Iruka.

Sakura didn’t hear him.

She didn’t hear anything else in the room.

Just the confirmation echoing inside her skull.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Her eyes immediately flicked toward him.

He hadn’t reacted. Not outwardly. He sat at his desk, arms crossed, gaze facing forward—completely still.

But her eyes landed on the quiet glow of—

> [Observe]

Target: Uchiha Sasuke — Level 12

Status: Focused. Reserved. Dangerous.

Her heart gave one loud thump.

Level 12.

He was still stronger than her. So much stronger. And he looked it, even sitting still—shoulders relaxed, but sharp with tension like coiled wire.

His presence was like a drawn blade: silent, poised, and undeniably dangerous.

Sasuke didn’t even glance back.

Of course he didn’t.

Sakura knew he wouldn’t. He never did.

But just sitting a few desks away from him, on the same team… The system notification blinked behind her eyes, but her mind blurred with something else. Something dumb. Something soft.

> Target: Uchiha Sasuke

Passive State: Focused. Dismissive. Mild Irritation Detected.

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

She swallowed.

"Ugh," she muttered to herself, shaking her head quickly like it could jostle her brain back into place. No. No, this wasn’t the time for—

But a little blush had already bloomed across her cheeks before she could stop it.

She pressed her knuckles to her lips, looking away as if trying to cover her face from her own thoughts.

Across the room, Kiba leaned over to Shikamaru with a snarl. “You see that?”

“Troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered, one eye barely open. “She’s already imagining wedding colors.”

Kai snorted from two rows up, flipping his pencil in one hand. “Tch. Give it a week. Bet she’ll be crying when Uchiha ignores her for the fifth time.”

Sakura didn't react. Not outwardly.

Iruka-sensei’s voice continued from the front, steady and neutral as he read off the remaining team assignments.

"Team 8: Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino, Hyuuga Hinata."

Kiba blinked. “Wait, that’s mine? Sweet.”

Hinata went a bit pink, lowering her gaze to her desk.

Shino said nothing, as usual.

"Team 9..." Iruka continued, flipping a page. "Tenji Raito, Masaru Tomioka and Ketsueki Ami."

"Team 10," Iruka announced last. “Yamanaka Ino, Nara Shikamaru, Akimichi Chouji.”

Ino made a strangled noise. “What?!”

Shikamaru sighed loudly. “I knew it. I knew it.”

Choji blinked, confused. “Huh? What’s wrong with that?”

Ino leaned forward across her desk and hissed, “You’re telling me billboard-brow gets Sasuke-kun and I get lazy-boy and snack-boy?!”

Shikamaru turned his head slowly. “You wanna trade?”

“YES—!”

“No.”

The class erupted in noise—groans, laughter, scattered protests.

Sakura stayed quiet, hands folded on her lap, mind oddly calm.

She was on Sasuke’s team. Naruto’s too. That was… unexpected. But somehow, it felt right. Like a test she hadn’t studied for but would pass anyway. She’d figure it out. She always did.

Even if her heart was thudding like it wanted out of her chest.

Sakura blinked as the tension crackled like static between the two boys beside her.

Naruto slammed his hands on the desk, chair screeching as he half-stood. “Sensei, why does a great ninja like me have to be in the same group with a slug like teme?!”

Iruka didn’t even sigh. “Because Sasuke had the highest scores of all graduating students. You, Naruto, had the lowest.”

He flipped a page with finality. “To create balanced teams, we placed the top student with the lowest. That’s standard.”

“Standard’s broken!” Naruto barked. “We’re gonna kill each other!”

Oh, at least he's aware.

“Try not to,” Iruka said mildly.

Sasuke didn’t even look Naruto’s way as he leaned back in his chair, one hand braced on the desk. “Just make sure not to get in my way, dobe.”

Naruto snapped his head toward him. “What did you say?!”

Sasuke tilted his head. “Hard of hearing?”

Naruto’s face puffed red with rage, like a kettle about to scream.

Sakura pressed two fingers to her temple and sighed through her nose. "Boys."

She couldn’t even pretend to be surprised.

Of course this was how it would go—Naruto barking, Sasuke sneering, and the whole class leaning in for round two of the disaster reel.

Kiba was already grinning like it was a free show. Ino’s mouth was open, either in horror or jealousy. Shikamaru muttered “troublesome” under his breath again like a prayer.

Still, beneath her irritation, Sakura felt it. This is her team.

Chapter Text

Lunch hour came with its usual noise—shouts echoing through the corridor, the shuffle of sandals, and the unmistakable clatter of bento boxes being cracked open in a rush. Students poured out in groups, eager to gossip, eat, or just escape the stifling tension from the earlier team assignments.

Sakura lingered behind.

She moved quietly, adjusting her hitai-ate as she watched Iruka-sensei gather his notes. His sleeves were rolled up, and he looked unusually tired for the time of day.

She waited until the last few students had trickled out before slipping down the steps toward him.

“Sensei,” she called.

Iruka-sensei turned, blinking. “Sakura? You’re not joining your team for lunch?”

“Soon,” she said smoothly. A familiar ting echoed faintly in her head.

> [Deception — Lv. 2 — Activated]

Passive Buff: Tone Control / Expression Dampening

Minor Boost to Social Checks (Bluff, Concealment)

Her eyes stayed open, curious but not too intent. The trick was to look just interested enough, but not suspicious.

“I just—wanted to ask something?"

He exhaled through his nose, setting his stack of papers down.

“Go ahead.”

She tilted her head. “Do you know where Mizuki-sensei is? I wanted to ask him something about the practical evaluations from last week. It’s just been bothering me.”

A half-truth. The system didn’t buzz with penalties.

Iruka-sensei paused, brows furrowing faintly—his eyes flicking toward the classroom door as if checking for eavesdroppers. The pause didn’t go unnoticed.

> [Observe – Lv. 10]

Target: Umino Iruka

Status Effects: Stab Strain (Healing), Stress Fatigue

Emotion: Hesitant

Sakura blinked, once.

“…He’s on leave,” he finally said. “Something about a family emergency. I haven’t seen him since the exams.”

Leave? That's definitely not right.

“And…” she started carefully, “When will he be back?”

Iruka-sensei gave a tight smile—too forced.

“I’m not sure. I imagine he’ll return once things settle down.”

> Deception Passive: Insight Triggered.

[He’s withholding information.]

Sakura lowered her gaze just a little, nodding like she understood.

“…I see. Thanks, Sensei.”

“You’re welcome, if you have any questions, you can ask me. Otherwise....” Iruka-sensei said, softening a little. “Enjoy your lunch. And congratulations on making Team 7. You’ve earned it.”

"I was going to ask about my scores but I guess it's not that important now." Sakura bowed lightly. “Thank you, sensei!”

She turned and walked out into the sunlight, squinting up at the sky. So Mizuki wasn’t just gone—he was buried. Literally. Shelved.

And Iruka-sensei probably lied about the “family emergency” line. That meant someone up top had already cleaned the silver-haired teacher up.

Sakura rubbed her temple, mind ticking like a clock.

“…Great.”

She sighed. Somewhere in the courtyard, Naruto’s voice carried—loud and indignant.

“Oi! Sakura-chan! Over here, come sit!” Sakura shook off the unease, schooling her expression.

She spotted the spiky blond flailing one arm above his head, already halfway through his bento and seated under one of the larger trees in the yard.

Sakura shook off the unease from earlier, smoothing her expression into something casual as she approached.

Naruto patted the ground beside him eagerly. “I even saved the best pickles for you!”

She raised a brow, sitting just out of reach. “You licked these already, didn’t you?”

He paused. “…No?”

“Gross.” But her tone was light. Her gaze flicked toward the nearby benches, scanning for a certain someone.

“Where’s Sasuke-kun?” she asked, trying to sound offhanded.

Naruto groaned dramatically. “Tch. Who cares? He said he doesn’t eat lunch with peasants.”

“That’s probably not what he said.”

“Well, that’s what it felt like when he left in a rush.”

Sakura snorted quietly as a pop-up flickered briefly in her vision:

> [Observe – Passive Trigger]

Subject: Uzumaki Naruto

Status: Mildly Annoyed, Mild Hunger, Mild Embarrassment

Notes: Actively posturing. High emotional reactivity.

“He’s probably just training somewhere,” Naruto grumbled, slouching against the tree. “I could train too, y’know. If I wanted. But I’m letting my food settle. That’s healthy.”

Sakura hummed. “You ate it in three minutes.”

Naruto opened his mouth to retort—

—and then his stomach gave a loud growl.

“…I’m going to the vending shop!” he announced suddenly, springing up with renewed energy. “For uh—backup dessert!”

“You just ate five rice balls.”

He pointed dramatically. “A ninja’s metabolism is no joke, Sakura-chan! I need to maintain this peak condition!”

She waved him off without looking, watching his orange figure bounce off through the crowd.

Alone again, she let her eyes drift back toward the classroom door. Her earlier conversation with Iruka-sensei still echoed faintly in her mind.

[Deception — Lv. 2 — Activated (Low Threat Passive)]

Observation roll successful. No suspicion detected.

She stared at the space where Naruto had been sitting.

 “The worst student and the best student… a balanced group.”

Sakura reached into her [Inventory], pulling out the bento she’d packed that morning.

Neat rows of rice balls, tamagoyaki, and pickled radish greeted her. She wasn’t the best cook—her mother had helped with the eggs—but the presentation looked nice enough, and everything tasted fine.

Good enough to keep her going.

She popped a rice ball into her mouth, chewing slowly. The area around her was quiet again, the same kind of still that always came after people left.

She didn’t mind. 

She unscrewed the lid of her drink—just barley tea in a cheap bottle—and took a long sip. Cool and earthy. Her eyes stayed on the spot Naruto had been.

He was loud, ridiculous, constantly talking about becoming Hokage like it was a joke nobody else had the heart to correct. And yet…

Sakura chewed her tamagoyaki and didn’t let herself finish the thought.

The wind shifted slightly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kept eating, methodically. 

Sakura continued eating on the bench.

Methodical, quiet. A sip of tea between bites. The sun was warm, the rice soft.

For a moment, life was tolerable.

Though something still bothers her. What will her life be as a shinobi? Will she be stronger from now? It's just...

As a first generation shinobi, everything will haunt you. Will her teacher teach her everything? Will it even be enough for her to get strong—

Then came the voice. “Sakura, your forehead is so wide and charming.”

—er?

What. She blinked.

What.

She looked up slowly, like someone checking for a trap. There, standing a few feet away, was Sasuke Uchiha. Kind of. The haircut, the scowl, the hands-in-pockets posture—all present.

But it felt off. Wrong.

It took her brain a second to catch up.

[Uzumaki Naruto – Lv. 6] floated cheerfully above his head in soft blue letters.

She stared.

Naruto, wearing a full Sasuke skin, blinked back at her with too much innocence to be anything but guilty. "Just kidding, that's the kind of dumb thing Naru—"

“…What the hell are you doing,” she said flatly. “If you don’t drop that genjutsu right now—”

“W-Wait! What do you mean genjutsu—?!”

“One.”

Naruto panicked, hands flailing like she’d pulled a kunai on him. “Okay okay okay!”

There was a soft poof, and the illusion dropped like wet laundry. Sasuke’s face vanished, replaced by Naruto’s real one—wide-eyed, nervous, and very much in trouble.

Sakura exhaled through her nose.

Naruto laughed weakly. “I was just—y’know—testing a transformation upgrade. Thought it’d be funny.”

She didn’t say anything. Just popped another piece of tamagoyaki into her mouth and chewed slowly. 

Dead silence.

“...S-So was it, uh, accurate?” he asked.

She stared at him.

He flinched.

Another bite. Another sip of tea. No answer.

Naruto slunk away like a kicked puppy, muttering. "Okay, I'm sorry I ambushed Sasuke a while ago."

That got her attention.

Her chewing slowed.

“You what.”

Naruto froze mid-step. Turned slowly like a guilty dog caught with a shoe in its mouth. “...Hypothetically?”

“Start talking.”

“I didn’t hurt him or anything!” Naruto said quickly, waving his arms. “Just—y’know—jumped on him with my clones and copied his looks.”

Sakura slowly blinked her green eyes. “You copied Sasuke’s appearance right after attacking him.”

“It wasn’t a real attack! It was more of a… hello.”

“You used your clones.”

“...Playfully?”

She squinted at him, expression blank.

Naruto wilted. “Okay, okay, I thought if I could look like him for a bit, I’d get a feel for what makes him so cool! Y’know, for training purposes. Educational. Like roleplaying.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Roleplaying.”

“In the shinobi sense!”

“Right.”

He looked like he wanted to crawl under a log. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he muttered. “Guess I should’ve made him less… charming.”

She didn’t say anything to that.

Just took another long, slow sip of tea.

Naruto watched her like she was about to scream and smite him.

Eventually, she spoke. “Next time you feel like exploring your educational roleplay, maybe don’t make him flirt with me?"

Naruto turned scarlet. His mouth opened, probably to defend himself, deny it, or dig an even deeper hole—"That's no—"

Grrrrk—

His stomach betrayed him first. Loudly. A deep, tortured growl that echoed across the training ground like some dying creature.

Naruto froze, face scrunching up like he’d just been stabbed in the gut by invisible kunai.

And then... Sakura smelled something. Her nose twitched. Then wrinkled. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, one brow arched high.

Naruto didn’t move.

Sakura didn’t speak.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Heavy. Like the air itself had grown uncomfortable. Like even the wind had backed off.

Her green eyes narrowed.

Naruto opened his mouth again—

Closed it.

The silence spoke for them.

It said: Unacceptable.

It said: Get your life together.

It said: Whatever’s happening in your intestines is a war crime.

Still, she said nothing. Just stared.

“Augh, Saku—ra-chan… I have to go… first.” His voice was strained, eyes already darting toward the nearest cluster of bushes like they were his only salvation.

Sakura blinked her eyes slowly.

Naruto hunched over slightly, arms crossed around his middle as he shuffled backward.

“This augh,” he wheezed, “but right now… I have a mission…”

Then he bolted.

The watched him disappear behind a tree line with the urgency of a man fleeing death itself.

A beat passed.

She took another bite of rice, chewed slowly, and stared at the empty space he left behind. So that was what it meant by the [Digestion Unease].

“…Idiot.”

Sakura sat on the bench, finishing the last of her lunch. The tea in her bottle had gone lukewarm, but she still sipped it between bites, the earthy flavor grounding her thoughts. The training field was quiet again—just the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas.

As she picked up another rice ball, a familiar figure walked across the edge of her vision.

Sasuke-kun.

The real one, by the look of him. His stride was smooth, unhurried, hands in his pockets, shoulders drawn in that faintly guarded way he always carried himself.

There was no cheerful blue text above his head—just the one she now instinctively called up with a thought.

[Uchiha Sasuke – Lv. 12]

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: Focused. Mild Irritation (Suppressed).

Title: Rookie of the Year

Notes: Not interested in talking. Probably.

She watched him pass, pretending not to. Her cheeks flushed anyway.

Even from a distance, he had that same quiet pull—like gravity. Effortless and sharp-edged, even in silence. She hated how her heart still reacted to his presence before her brain caught up.

He hadn't done anything. Just walked by. Still, she felt like she needed to fix her hair.

Then, unexpectedly, he turned to her.

"Where's Naruto?" he asked. The question was simple, but his eyes held hers for just a beat too long.

Sakura blinked, momentarily thrown.

She cleared her throat. “He had a… situation.”

A slight pause.

Sasuke didn’t react. Just blinked once, then looked away like that was all he needed.

She didn’t elaborate. He didn’t ask.

A leaf drifted down between them, unnoticed.

Sakura turned her gaze back to her bento, suddenly aware of how warm her ears were. She forced herself to keep eating like nothing had happened, like her stomach hadn’t fluttered a little when he looked at her.

Just the tea. Just the heat.

That was all.

“Why are you looking for him?” she asked.

Her voice was calm, but she was watching him carefully. Sasuke didn’t answer right away. He just stood there with that same sharp stillness, like something under tension—tightly wound and ready to snap.

Then, flatly:

“Annoying.”

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. It was the same word he always used. Like it explained everything.

But this time, it stuck.

Sakura looked down at her half-finished lunch, suddenly not very hungry. Her chopsticks hovered over the last piece of egg before she let them fall back into the box with a soft clack.

“You know why he’s annoying?” she said, voice quiet. Not defensive. Not even angry. Just… thoughtful.

“It’s because he doesn’t have a mother. Or a father.”

Sasuke didn’t move. He didn’t flinch, didn’t react. But she kept talking anyway.

“If I pulled the kind of stuff he does—shouting in class, running around, pulling pranks—forget it. My mom would yell. My dad would take everything away. I’d be grounded for a week. So I don’t do those things. I don’t even think about it anymore.”

She wasn’t sure why she was saying all this.

Sasuke wasn’t exactly a talker. And it wasn’t like he’d asked for her opinion. But the words were coming anyway.

She glanced up at him, then down again. Her voice dropped a little. “But if you don’t have anyone to tell you what’s too much… how do you know?”

It sounded different when she said it out loud. He wasn’t just annoying.

He was loud because no one taught him to be quiet. He acted out because no one was watching. He joked too much because otherwise no one would talk to him.

“Everyone sees him being loud and stupid and selfish. And yeah, he is. He is,” she said, more firmly now. “He makes everything about himself. He doesn't think. He’s exhausting. He’s so—” she pressed her palm flat against the bench, grounding herself, “—so bratty.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced herself to keep going.

“He’s all alone.”

The words sat there in the space between them, unpolished. Unapologetic.

No one ever said it. Not in class, not at home, not in the village. People just gave Naruto that look—tight smiles, nervous laughter, a kind of quiet distance like something about him didn’t quite fit.

But Sakura now sees it. Because the system forced her too. Everything, every small details.

He was the one who always sat alone until he forced someone to look at him. He was the one who didn’t get called home at the end of the day.

No one waited for him.

No one worried when he was late.

“He has no one to tell him, ‘don’t do that,’ or ‘you went too far,’ or even, ‘you’re not funny.’ So he just keeps going." She clicked her tongue. "Loud. Annoying. Chasing whatever will make people look at him.”

She picked at the edge of her lunchbox. Her hands were steady, but something in her chest felt uneven.

“He's irritating.” she said, almost a whisper. She didn’t mean it dramatically. It was just the truth.

She liked having someone to cook her food and tell her to get some sleep. Even when it was irritating. Even when she hated being scolded.

Naruto didn’t have any of that. Not even a little.

Her eyes drifted to Sasuke again.

He still hadn’t spoken.

But she wasn’t sure if that silence meant agreement, or something else entirely. Because if there was anyone who might understand, it was him.

Not exactly the same, but close enough.

Sakura leaned back slightly on the bench, arms loose at her sides.

“I don’t think he even knows how lonely he is,” she said. “He just acts like everything’s fine. Like it’s funny.”

She looked up at the clouds, pale white against a too-blue sky. For a long moment, Sasuke didn’t move.

“Alone. Isolated.” His voice stopped her cold.

Sasuke didn’t look at her as he said it. Just stood there, half-turned away, shadows sharp under his jaw.

“It’s not about your parents scolding you,” he said, flat and final. “You have no idea what it means to be alone.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t have to be.

Sakura sat very still.

Her chest tightened—not with anger, not quite. More like the slow, sinking weight of embarrassment. Or something worse. Something quieter.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Thought.

Then she glanced up—because she couldn’t help it—and brought up his status.

[Uchiha Sasuke – Lv. 12]

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: Focused. Irritation (Suppressed).

Title: Rookie of the Year

Notes: Talking nonsense when you don't know what loneliness is.

There it was again—Irritation. Suppressed, but there. And talking nonsense? 

What nonsense? It was all just her opinion and it's not exactly wrong. She looked at him, then away. Took a breath.

“I’m not saying it’s all about his parents,” she said quietly. “I never said that. I just said that’s why he acts the way he does. Because nobody was there to tell him how to be.”

She didn’t say it to defend herself. It wasn’t even an argument. It was just the truth, laid flat between them like a sheet of glass.

Sasuke turned to look at her then.

His expression didn’t shift, but something behind his eyes sharpened.

“You’re so annoying,” he said.

And he walked away.

The silence he left behind hit harder than it should’ve.

Sakura stared after him, lips parted, the rest of her thoughts stuck somewhere behind her teeth. She sat there, still holding her tea bottle like it might anchor her to something.

“…Fuck.” She didn’t say it loudly.

Just enough to admit it.

The clouds rolled slow overhead, and the trees whispered like they knew better.

Naruto came stumbling back again, looking like death warmed over. He was hunched slightly, one hand still on his stomach, sweat beading along his temple. Sakura glanced up, not bothering to hide her look of exasperation.

She pulled up his stats out of habit.

[Uzumaki Naruto – Lv. 6]

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: Mild Chakra Disruption, Digestive Unease (???)

Title: Konoha’s Number One Most Unpredictable Ninja

Notes: That Milk was not Fine.

Sakura didn’t even say anything at first. Just looked at him.

She raised an eyebrow. “You might want to go back to where you came from.”

Naruto blinked at her, confused. “Huh?”

Then his stomach made a sound like a dying animal, loud and gurgling. He doubled over slightly, clutching it again.

“Oh—oh no,” he croaked, face paling. “Oh no no no—”

He turned on his heel and bolted without another word, disappearing into the distance like his life depended on it.

Sakura watched him go, lips curved down. “Predictable,” she muttered.

“He’s late,” Naruto grumbled, glaring out the open classroom door like he could summon their teacher through sheer willpower. “We’ve been waiting forever!”

Sakura sat primly at her desk, arms crossed, while Sasuke remained slouched in his chair like nothing mattered. Probably because to him, it didn’t.

“Naruto!” she snapped. “Just sit down already!”

“I don’t want to!” he whined, pacing back and forth. “How come our teacher’s the only one who’s late, huh?! I’m ready to roll, dattebayo!”

He turned to face them with full dramatic energy. “The other group already met their new sensei! They’ve gone on some amazing adventure or something! And Iruka-sensei’s gone toooo!”

“We know, okay?” Sakura said, rubbing her temple. “Wait a minute. What are you doing now, Naruto?”

Naruto was balancing precariously on a narrow wooden chair near the door, holding something above his head with intense focus.

“That’s what he gets for being late, 'ttebayo!” he declared triumphantly, placing an eraser right on the top of the sliding door frame.

Sakura groaned. “You’re asking for trouble.”

But inwardly?

She wasn’t stopping him. Not really.

A part of her—the part that had been stuck in this tense, quiet limbo of waiting—kind of wanted to see what would happen.

She flicked her gaze toward the eraser and activated [Observe].

[Chalkboard Eraser – Lv. 0]

Durability: 2/2

Status: Emotionally Neutral.

Title: Harbinger of Petty Vengeance

Notes: Has been waiting for this moment its entire life.

Sakura snorted. She immediately coughed to cover it.

Naruto wobbled a little, holding his arms out for balance. “Almost… got it…”

“You’re going to fall and break something,” she said aloud, but quietly thought:

...Please let it land right on his head instead.

Sasuke scoffed softly from his seat, not even sparing Naruto a glance.

“Our teacher’s a jōnin,” he said. “An elite ninja. You think he’s going to fall for that?”

Sakura turned in her seat, nodding like she already knew. “Sasuke-kun’s right. You’re… so clueless, Naruto.”

But Naruto just grinned wider, wobbling down from the chair like he’d won something anyway. “We’ll see,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the trap with the pride of a craftsman.

Then—

A quiet shuffle. A shadow.

A hand appeared at the edge of the sliding door, pale fingers curling around the wood. The door slid open with an easy motion.

And the eraser dropped.

Sakura blinked.

Silver? That was the first thing she saw—the eraser hitting not soft black hair, but a messy shock of silver, sticking up like someone had spent the morning electrocuting themselves.

Her brain tried to catch up.

Mizuki-sensei? she thought, confused. But no—Mizuki’s hair wasn’t that silver. And Mizuki didn’t wear a navy mask over half his face, or have a headband pulled down low over one eye like a lazy pirate.

He had a relaxed slouch to him, like gravity was just a suggestion.

And even as the eraser hit, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

Not surprise. Not tension. Not the half-second of instinctive movement any normal person would make if something fell on them unexpectedly.

It was like he knew it was coming.

Sakura’s system didn’t ping for Observe, not manually. But passively—quietly, as if in the background—text shimmered faint and automatic in the corner of her vision.

He didn’t even flinch. No startle. No surprise. No irritation.

Like the eraser was just part of his morning routine.

Sakura’s system flickered softly at the edge of her vision—passive skill kicking in even without her asking.

[??? – Lv. ??]

HP: ???

Chakra: ???

Status: Amused.

Notes: Eraser acquired. Trap triggered. Situation entirely under control... He let it happen.

Naruto burst out laughing.

Not a snicker. Not a chuckle. A full-blown, doubled-over, can't-breathe belly laugh as the eraser rolled harmlessly across the floor.

“Did you see that?!” he wheezed. “It just—thunk—right on the hair! Perfect drop!”

Sakura pressed a hand to her face. “I’m sorry, sensei,” she said quickly, trying to look composed while glaring sideways at Naruto. “I tried to stop him but...”

She trailed off, voice wilting under the weight of how obviously untrue that was.

How strong is this guy...?

Her thoughts barely kept up with the feeling settling low in her stomach—something between awe and unease.

She'd been staring at status screens all week. Numbers, colors, skill ranks. People reduced to data.

Even Iruka-sensei had had a clean readout. Mizuki too—until the system glitched and lit him up like a warning flare.

But this one?

Their supposed new sensei?

There was nothing.

No level.

No chakra pool.

No hit points.

Not even a name displayed unless she forced the Observe skill to run—and even then, it flickered like the system itself wasn’t sure it was allowed to show her.

And that eraser stunt?

She thought she'd imagined it at first—how he didn’t react. But now that she was sitting still, thinking, replaying the moment in her head, she knew what she'd seen.

A shinobi’s instincts were supposed to be sharp. React to danger, read the air. But this wasn’t instinct. This was control. Down to the inch.

Jōnin, Sasuke had said. An elite ninja.

Sasuke didn’t say anything. Just stared at their new teacher with unreadable eyes, his silence more cutting than a thousand apologies.

The man with the mask and the slouched posture looked at all three of them, still eraser-dust flecked, still impossibly unbothered.

No level.

No HP.

No chakra bar.

No title.

Just a void where the system usually had something—anything.

And then he spoke, flat and dry.

“My first impression of this group…”

He paused, taking his sweet time, one visible eye crinkling just slightly.

“You’re a bunch of idiots.”