The sun hadn't even cleared the rooftops when I opened my eyes.
I didn't move at first. Just stared at the wooden slats of the ceiling, watching faint golden light creep through the cracks in the window. The house was still. Not silent like before the massacre — not that oppressive, breath-held, something-is-coming silence. This was just... stillness. The kind that settles in after too much has already happened.
The kind that doesn't ask questions anymore.
Sasuke was gone.
Of course he was.
His futon was folded. His sandals were missing. He always left before I woke up now — before the dreams could reach him, or before mine could.
I sat up slowly, legs heavy. Muscles stiff. My neck ached where I'd fallen asleep curled against the wall.
My hair had come loose in the night — dark strands clinging to my cheeks. I pulled the brush from the shelf and worked through the tangles mechanically. I didn't braid it anymore. Not since…
I paused, eyes flicking to the small mirror propped on the dresser.
Mikoto's hands had always moved gently when she braided my hair. Even when she was rushed, she never pulled too tight. Always started from the left, always tied it with a looped red cord.
I hadn't touched the cord since the night they died.
I didn't throw it away. I just… left it in the drawer. Like everything else.
The Kimono hung on the peg by the door. Too crisp. Too clean. I hated how normal it looked. As if I hadn't grown two lifetimes older since the last time I wore it.
I pulled it on in silence.
Brushed the wrinkles flat.
Didn't look in the mirror again.
The walk to the Academy was familiar, but it didn't feel the same. The market was already buzzing — vendors setting up their stalls, shinobi passing in clusters, mothers calling to children with packed lunches in hand.
No one stared at me anymore.
The whispers had quieted. The eyes had moved on.
We weren't a tragedy now.
We were just orphans.
Just two quiet Uchiha kids who kept to themselves.
The Academy gates came into view. White stone. Freshly swept.
Same as before.
Everything looked the same.
But I wasn't.
I paused at the steps.
Took a long breath.
I could still feel the weight of Itachi's last glance. Still feel Sasuke's hand gripping mine in the dark, the way it trembled before it went still. I could still hear the silence of that hospital room, the weight of Hiruzen's hand on my shoulder, the lies we were expected to accept like truth.
And now?
Now I had to walk into a room full of children and act like I didn't remember the way blood smells.
"Act normal.
Smile politely.
Don't show them what's missing."
I took the steps one at a time.
Let the noise rise before me like a wave.
The laughter. The shouting. The bickering. Chairs scraping. Chalk tapping.
The sound of life moving forward.
And then I stepped inside.
The Academy smelled like chalk dust and old tatami.
Nothing had changed.
Not the scuffed floors. Not the faded posters about teamwork. Not the humming lights that flickered whenever someone slammed a door too hard. Even the same cobweb hung in the corner near the ceiling, like a teacher had seen it, sighed, and decided it was someone else's problem.
Children were already loud when I walked in.
Too loud.
Laughter, shouting, footsteps — all layered over each other like a storm that didn't know how to rest. Some were sparring in the corner. Some were balancing erasers on their heads for no reason other than chaos.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them.
It felt… unreal.
Like I'd wandered into someone else's memory.
Naruto Uzumaki was easy to spot.
Bright blond hair, goggles too big for his head, voice already ten decibels above legal limits.
"I DID TOO land it right! You blinked!"
"You tripped over your own foot," said Kiba, snickering with his arms crossed and his dog yapping in agreement from his jacket.
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"I'll show you a real Shadow Clone—!"
"You can't even make one!"
Naruto growled, face flushing red as he puffed up like a balloon ready to pop. I could practically see the chakra swirling around him — wild, bright, unrestrained. Not dangerous. Not yet. But loud.
Chakra like a storm.
I looked away.
Sakura Haruno sat three rows ahead, hunched over her desk and pretending not to look behind her every five seconds. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. Her hair was perfect. Her insecurity wasn't.
Across from her, Ino Yamanaka whispered something sharp and giggled behind her hand. It was half a performance. Half real.
Their rivalry hadn't changed. It was still pink polish over a need to be seen.
Hinata Hyūga sat by the window.
Hands folded. Posture perfect.
She didn't speak. Barely moved. But her eyes flickered — to me, to Naruto, then down again.
Like she wanted to say something.
Like she didn't know how.
I remembered the training field.
The way she held a kunai like it might break if she gripped it too tightly.
The smile she gave me when no one was looking.
Shikamaru Nara was slumped in the back, arms behind his head, gaze half-lidded. Lazy, yes — but calculating. He didn't talk. Didn't blink much either.
He was watching everyone.
Quietly filing them into categories only he understood.
He saw me enter. Didn't say a word. Just tilted his head slightly.
I nodded once.
That was enough.
And then there was Iruka-sensei.
Standing at the front of the class with chalk in one hand and a stack of worksheets in the other. He had the same tired-but-kind eyes. The kind of smile that said I care about all of you, even when you drive me insane.
He saw me. His expression softened.
"Welcome back, Akari-chan."
A few heads turned.
Most didn't.
Whispers rose and died. Just for a second.
The Uchiha girl. The other one. Not the angry one. The quiet one.
I bowed slightly. "Good morning, Iruka-sensei."
And walked to the back row.
Sasuke sat by the window.
Alone.
Of course.
His arms were folded. His jaw tight. He didn't look up.
I slid into the seat beside him.
Not too close.
Just enough.
To be the barrier he didn't know he needed.
To be the buffer no one would ask about.
"These are the people who will shape the future.
Who will bleed for it.
Some will die.
Some already have.
They just don't know it yet."
"Hey, uh—Akari-chan, right?"
I blinked.
Naruto stood at the edge of my desk, rubbing the back of his head.
His smile was crooked. Nervous. Real.
"I, uh—uh—saw you at Ichiraku that time. You, um… told me about my chopsticks."
I tilted my head. "…Yes."
He nodded quickly. "Yeah! That was funny. You're really smart. Uh—did you—did you wanna maybe sit with me at lunch later? I mean you don't have to! I just—figured—y'know—"
He was stammering so fast I almost smiled.
Almost.
Instead, I gave him a polite nod. "Maybe. We'll see how training goes."
He lit up like a lantern. "Okay! Cool! Totally!"
Then he ran into the corner of someone's desk on his way back and almost fell over.
I let out a breath through my nose.
Beside me, Sasuke shifted.
His eyes were on Naruto. Cold. Measuring.
Then he glanced at me.
And for a second — just a second — I caught the echo of something softer.
The boy from the hospital bed.
The one who shook in the dark and said he would kill the only person he ever looked up to.
But it was gone before I could reach it.
His gaze flicked away.
Iruka tapped the chalk against the board, rhythm steady, fingers dusted in white.
The classroom hadn't calmed much — Naruto was still bouncing in his seat, Kiba was whispering something to Shino, and Ino and Sakura had started round two of their daily "who gets to breathe near Sasuke" war.
Iruka cleared his throat with the weight of years of practice. "Alright, settle down."
Nothing happened.
"Settle. Down."
Still nothing.
Then he snapped a piece of chalk in half between two fingers.
The room quieted.
I blinked. Noted the flicker of chakra in his hand. Hidden strength, carefully leashed.
Sasuke sat beside me, arms crossed, eyes locked forward. Still as stone.
Iruka gave a small, tired smile. "That's better. Now. Today we're starting new group formations."
A few groans echoed across the room.
Naruto sat up straighter. "Do we get to fight?!"
"You get to learn." Iruka replied, not missing a beat. "We'll be practicing coordination, spatial awareness, and trust. Sparring drills. Tactical movement. Partnered scenarios."
Naruto slumped. "So… no punching?"
"Minimal punching," Iruka said, then added, "if you're doing it right."
"Boring."
"You say that about math, too."
"That's because math is boring!"
A ripple of laughter moved through the room. I didn't join it.
Iruka moved to the roster scroll. "Pairs and trios will be rotated weekly. But we're starting with long-term formation groups. I'll post the chart later. For now — your first assignment."
He started calling names.
"Sakura, Ino, Choji."
Ino pouted. Sakura smiled smugly.
"Shikamaru, Kiba, Shino."
"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered before even moving.
Then—
"Hinata. Naruto. Akari."
I blinked.
Naruto turned so fast he nearly launched out of his seat. "ME?! With HER?!"
He pointed at me.
"Which her?" Iruka asked dryly.
"Uchiha-her!"
"That's not a name, Naruto."
"But—! I mean—she's—cool! But also kinda—scary? And quiet! And—why is she looking at me like that?!"
"Like what?" I asked, smiling faintly.
"Like that!"
Hinata made a soft noise, barely audible, and peeked at me through her fringe.
I didn't sigh. Not out loud.
"Because," Iruka continued, as if Naruto hadn't just emotionally collapsed, "you three balance each other. Akari's control, Naruto's unpredictability, and Hinata's precision. It's called formation synergy."
"But she could wipe the floor with me!"
"Exactly. You'll learn faster."
Naruto groaned and dropped his head to the desk with a thump.
I glanced at Hinata.
She was staring at her hands. Her chakra was trembling — a low, almost musical buzz of nerves.
I made a note to keep her out of the front line during sparring.
Iruka's voice kept going.
"Shikamaru, you're with Kiba and Shino."
Sasuke's eye twitched.
Kiba barked a laugh. "Try not to fall behind."
Shikamaru didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The look he gave Kiba made half the room instinctively lean away.
Iruka closed the scroll.
"These are learning groups," he said, voice softer now. "You'll rely on each other. Cover for each other. Help each other grow. That's what it means to be part of this village."
He turned, erased a line on the board, then said it like a quiet prayer:
"A shinobi's strength comes from those beside them.
We are the Leaf — not the fire."
I stared at the back of Iruka's coat.
I could still hear Itachi's voice in my memory — low, calm, final.
I just smiled.
Iruka clapped his hands once, sharp and final.
"Alright — that's enough theory. Time to move."
Groans rippled across the room, followed by the scraping of chairs and the flutter of notebooks being shoved into bags. The energy shifted instantly. Training meant movement. Movement meant distraction. Distraction meant a break from sitting still — which half this class considered a punishment in itself.
Sasuke stood without a word and slung his practice kunai pouch over his shoulder.
I followed.
Naruto immediately tripped over his own chair leg and face-planted with a dramatic oof.
"I'm GOOD!" he shouted, jumping up with his arms in the air like he'd done it on purpose.
"Great recovery," I said.
"Thanks! I planned it."
"I know."
He paused. Blinked. "Wait—"
But Iruka was already herding us toward the door. "Let's go, everyone. Outside. Pair off with your teams when we get there — and no sparring without permission!"
"Aw, c'mon!" Kiba groaned. "Just a little—"
"Kiba."
"…Right. No sparring. Yet."
The walk to the training field was noisy — boots on gravel, Naruto's voice rising above the crowd, Ino and Sakura already arguing again at full volume, Shino walking dead center in total silence while everyone instinctively gave him two meters of space.
I stuck near the back with Hinata. She didn't say much, but she walked in time with me. Her chakra was still nervous, but not chaotic.
Good. She could work with that.
We emerged into the sunlight.
The main Academy training yard spread out before us — packed earth, half a dozen wooden dummies, worn stone rings for sparring. Trees at the edge. Targets in the distance.
It felt good under my feet.
Real.
"This field," Iruka said as we lined up, "has seen every great shinobi in Konoha start from the same place you're standing now."
A pause.
"And fall face-first into the mud."
Laughter echoed. Naruto pumped a fist in the air.
"I'm gonna be Hokage and king of the mud!"
"You're already halfway there," Sasuke muttered.
I coughed into my hand to hide my smirk.
Iruka raised a hand. "Today, you're not trying to win. You're trying to learn. About your partners. About your instincts. About how to read the battlefield, not just react to it."
He looked around. "We'll begin with a three-way match."
The crowd shifted.
Iruka's eyes landed on three familiar faces.
"Sakura. Ino. Choji."
Sakura stiffened.
Ino grinned like someone had just lit a fuse.
Choji blinked. "…Huh?"
"You'll be our first rotation," Iruka said. "Three-way sparring. No lethal techniques. Stop if someone yields. Use what we've been learning."
He stepped back.
The students parted.
The three of them stepped forward.
Sakura rolled her shoulders. "I've been practicing."
Ino tossed her hair. "Practicing what, forehead?"
"Beating you."
Choji raised a hand hesitantly. "Uh, are we sure this isn't a bad—"
"Start when I say," Iruka cut in.
The three formed a loose triangle in the ring.
Dust curled beneath their feet. The rest of the class fell silent.
My fingers itched. I leaned forward slightly.
This wasn't just a warm-up anymore.
Iruka's hand lifted.
Three heads lowered.
"Begin."