The Awakened Soul (Naruto SI)

[Lillie Jones]

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[Qiun]

MC sounds bit lame.
He should talk to people more

 

[Welydora]

MC sounds bit lame.
He should talk to people more

Click to shrink...

Got it, I'll keep that in mind

 

[Welydora]

Evening. Sarutobi Hiruzen was, as usual, sitting in his office, sifting through papers and smoking his pipe.

Gazing at the report on the general affairs of the "P‑Puzzles" company, he could only sigh and set it aside. After that, he took out a scroll and wrote a decree saying he was no longer to be notified about that particular venture.

Koharu‑chan did a good job, he couldn't help but note.

And indeed, thanks to that woman, his ward had managed to acquire considerable resources without much harm to himself or those around him.

Hiruzen was too modest to admit his own significant role in this: answering Naruto's many questions regarding politics and the country's internal affairs, and helping him put together certain strategies.

The only thing is those "legal methods"... Here, the old man could only shake his head.

As Hokage, he was supposedly in charge of maintaining order in the country… or at least in his own Village. Hiruzen barely managed the second part, and even that was a stretch. How it had come to the point where he was almost abetting Naruto's shady business on the Land of Fire's territory was harder to justify. No—that was a lie. Sarutobi understood perfectly well that he was sometimes too soft. That was why he'd gone along with it. He just couldn't seem to do anything about it.

It had all started with that harmless suggestion that Naruto needed to be more responsible and start getting used to living on his own. It seemed like standard practice for someone his age, something taken for granted. And of course, no one would just dump a kid in an empty house without first teaching him how to do laundry, cook, and clean. But apparently, even if he hadn't shown it, his ward had taken those words way too seriously.

As a result of that seriousness, he went on a proper bender in the capital and rented himself a mansion. Why he'd done the latter was also beyond Sarutobi. By his standards, a house with walls was already good enough. Hiruzen's own parents had lived comfortably in tents. An apartment like Naruto's, he would have happily given to the Daimyo's children—and the Daimyo himself on top of that. Why not? The walls were straight with quality finishing, no pests, the floors didn't creak, there was hot water and gas. Everything was perfectly fine. But because of the view of some damned pipes, Naruto had flat‑out refused to live there…

In any case, it didn't matter anymore. A lot of time had passed since then. And, to the old man's regret, Naruto was the least of his, so to speak, "problems." Alas, Hiruzen was the Hokage, and a lot was happening in the village he ruled.

Shortly after classes started at the Academy, a Mist spy—Kohinata Mukai—was exposed in Konoha. Before that, Hiruzen had considered him a loyal shinobi, even if he was an irresponsible drunk at times. He was also a Hyuga bastard, and a fairly strong and well‑known Konoha ninja, though, again, there were times when he was assigned a mission but couldn't go because he was too drunk to walk.

Danzo uncovered this connection between the Leaf shinobi and the Mist and had him killed by two Uchiha—Itachi and Shisui.

Hiruzen disliked his "rival's" methods. He tried to see the best in people, especially those he had worked with for a long time, and those who had long (if not always) fulfilled their duties and cared about Konoha. And only some nagging feeling on the edge of his mind stopped Sarutobi from expressing this disapproval with more than just words.

After this incident, the ANBU ranks were joined by the youngest member in their history. Uchiha Itachi, it seemed, was not inferior in potential to his relative, Shisui.

What also bothered Hiruzen were Danzo's encroachments on the Uchiha clan, even if they seemed to benefit the village.

The Uchiha had been pushed out to live on the outskirts of the village, suspected of controlling the Nine‑Tails. The bijuu had definitely been controlled by an Uchiha, but whether he was actually loyal to the clan was unknown. Danzo was one of those who advocated openly distrusting the clan. Over time, that turned into worse and worse treatment.

Lamenting his own passivity, Hiruzen could only regret this. Over the years, it had eventually led to the discovery of a brewing Uchiha coup.

Sarutobi tried to resolve the matter peacefully, but with little success.

Danzo had managed to persuade Itachi to spy for them—the elders and the Hokage—on clan affairs. Hiruzen wanted to use this for a smoother resolution of the conflict, but the other elders were not so peace‑loving, while Danzo expressed contempt for his actions, saying that a ruler shouldn't be a doormat who lets everyone do as they please, and that such audacity (a planned coup) had to be answered in kind.

Then a solution, it seemed, presented itself. Not the best one… but a solution nonetheless. Uchiha Shisui revealed to the Hokage and the council that his Mangekyo Sharingan could profoundly alter a person's priorities. He also revealed his plan—with his eyes, it would be possible to rewrite the mind of the Uchiha clan head so that he himself would believe the coup was a bad idea and do everything he could to obstruct it from within the clan.

Hiruzen, as always, disliked this partial, yet still very real, murder of a personality. But that sacrifice was acceptable to save hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives that could be extinguished if the coup happened.

So Hiruzen agreed to the plan and ordered Shisui to act. This, judging by his reactions, did not please Danzo. It was as if he wanted an escalation of the conflict, one that could deal a monstrous blow to the Leaf.

Just recently, Shisui's body had been found in the river, and Hiruzen couldn't help but feel a surge of dark emotions.

Perhaps—just perhaps, Hiruzen thought—someone had taken too much upon himself. Perhaps he didn't understand that his actions could lead Konoha—thousands of people, and possibly far more—to their deaths. After all, after a revolution, the Village would be weakened, which could lead to another war.

But without hard evidence, he couldn't pass judgment. There was a chance that Shisui had failed in his plan and been killed by his own… but the old man's intuition told him otherwise.

For now, all Sarutobi could do was continue his policy of reconciliation, so things wouldn't come to the worst.

Lost in thought, Hiruzen didn't notice that night had fallen.

"!"

"A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A!!!!!"

A wave of very powerful, vicious chakra, as sudden as a bout of diarrhea, nearly launched the old man out of his chair. A heart‑rending scream echoed across all of Konoha.

"N‑Naruto?!" Sarutobi couldn't believe his own senses, unerringly recognizing the chakra as he stepped up to the window.

"You old bastard! I'll wrap your guts around a fucking flag until you howl like a jackal, you bitch!" came the voice of Hiruzen's ward from outside the window.

Boom—a muffled explosion sounded, shaking even the Hokage's residence slightly.

"You think your shitty clone is gonna fool me? I'll shove your airheaded ass into a meat grinder and churn you into paste! Then I'll feed you to a pack of mangy dogs just like you!"

"!!"

An even stronger wave of chakra washed over the Village, making the windows of the Hokage's residence tremble.

"I'll find you, you bitch! I'll shove you in a furnace, then flush your ashes down the shitter! You're fucking dead, Koharu‑u!"

Watching the blond figure rapidly disappear into the distance, the Hokage simply closed his eyes.

So that's what she meant back then, when she said she'd take Naruto's training to a new level, Sarutobi thought, nodding to himself as he sat back down in his chair. Well then, old friend. That was your decision, and you can deal with it yourself.

After that, the old man, as if he hadn't seen or heard a thing, simply went back to sorting through the remaining papers.

Interlude. Utatane Koharu. A little earlier

Late evening wrapped Konoha in a soft blanket of silence. In the modest room of a certain "old hag," a single lamp burned. Its uneven light snatched the elder's focused face from the gloom, along with the glint of thin senbon needles she was methodically arranging on a low table.

She inspected each senbon carefully, checking its balance and sharpness, then gently dabbed its tip in a viscous, almost black liquid from a small ceramic vial.

Lately, her thoughts often revolved around a single figure—Uzumaki Naruto.

The boy. A bundle of contradictions. Insolence bordering on outright impudence and a mind as sharp as a kunai's edge. Self‑confidence and an astonishing, almost frightening capacity for learning. Hiruzen, her old friend and eternal opponent in matters of education and policy, saw in him some sort of messianic destiny, a reflection of his parents' Will of Fire. Koharu, however, long used to looking at the world without rose‑colored glasses, saw above all… potential. Vast, unrefined, like a diamond found in the mud. Potential that could become either Konoha's greatest asset or its ruin if not cut and polished correctly. She preferred to think of him as a tool. Perhaps the most perfect tool that had ever fallen into her hands. But a tool needs a master's hand so it serves its purpose instead of maiming everything around it.

That was her goal and her motive. As an elder and someone whom Tobirama‑sensei himself had entrusted with protecting Konoha, she couldn't ignore Hiruzen's offer to become the jinchuriki's mentor. That would have been irresponsible, weak, and dangerous for the Leaf's future. If she hadn't agreed, Uzumaki could have ended up in other, possibly much worse, hands.

His recent escapade with the puzzles had stirred a complex mix of emotions in Koharu. On one hand, the blatant disregard for the rules, the use of proxies, the manipulations—all of that couldn't help but earn her disapproval as an elder and guardian of order. On the other… she couldn't help but appreciate the brilliant application of the very principles she had taught him. Market analysis, identifying needs (even artificially created ones), exploiting weaknesses (greed, gambling), scaling up with shadow clones, calculated risk and a timely exit with maximum profit. It was an almost perfect sabotage operation, just transplanted into the peacetime economy. The brat had not only absorbed her lessons on tactics and strategy—he'd creatively reworked them and applied them in a completely unexpected field. That spoke of a flexible mind, of an ability to think outside the box. Qualities invaluable for a shinobi of her profile. Hiruzen, of course, lamented the "questionable methods," but Koharu saw in it further proof that her lessons hadn't gone to waste.

However, success in intellectual games and even in controlled spars didn't guarantee survival in the real world. In a world where the enemy wouldn't follow rules, where an attack could come from any direction, at any moment. Naruto was physically strong, his chakra control was growing at an astonishing rate, his mind was sharp. But he lacked… animal instinct. Instincts honed to a shine, reflexes that outpaced thought. He knew what analysis and calculation were. But sometimes there's simply no time for that.

Hiruzen worried about his "soul," his "humanity." Koharu understood that concern. She herself wouldn't have wanted to see a soulless killing machine at her side, no matter what other shinobi thought of her preferences. But she also knew that excessive softness, indecisiveness, the inability to act hard and fast in a critical situation—that was a straight road to the shinobi cemetery. Survival first, philosophy later. That was her principle.

That was precisely why she had decided on this… lesson. Senbon coated in a specially prepared compound. Not lethal, no. Koharu wasn't reckless. But it would cause enough pain to knock all the fake calm out of the boy, all his confidence in controlling the situation. Pain is an excellent teacher—the fastest and the most straightforward. It would force his body to remember that danger can come from where you least expect it. That you can't relax for a single second. That the world is not a safe training ground.

Koharu imagined his reaction. Rage, of course. Possibly a stream of prime curses, which he was famous for in moments of irritation. An attempt to catch up, to take revenge. All of that was predictable. And even useful. Rage could be channeled, turned into fuel for growth. The important thing was not to let it drown him, but to teach him to control that fire.

Koharu's clone was ready. The escape route was planned. There was, of course, a risk. Hiruzen could find out and be extremely displeased. But in such serious matters, Utatane was used to acting out of necessity, not out of fear of someone else's opinion, even if that opinion was the Hokage's. She bore the responsibility for making sure this "tool" was not only powerful, but also reliable. And if, for that, she had to use slightly… unorthodox methods, she was ready.

Tomorrow, Uzumaki Naruto would receive a very important lesson. One that might, one day, save his life. And if he broke from such a "trifle"… well, then Hiruzen had been wrong about his potential. Better to find that out now.

Koharu finished with the last senbon. There was no malice in her eyes, no sadism. Only cold calculation and firm conviction in the rightness of her actions. She didn't enjoy other people's pain.

She was just doing her job.

Sharpening her tool.


Stalking from a great distance, Koharu's Shadow Clone pursued its target. Uzumaki had a monstrous sensory ability at close range and an extremely good one at medium range, but that didn't mean he was omniscient. Far from it; everyone has weaknesses, there's always a way in.

Sitting on one of the high‑rises, Koharu finally waited for Naruto to stop moving. He'd gone into some hole‑in‑the‑wall place with tables under an awning. Only the lower half of his body was visible.

Good enough view.

She took out a senbon, then began to form Wind Release chakra around it.

A fleeting moment of concentration—and the projectile shot forward at immense speed, burying itself halfway into his right buttock.

"!"

"A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A!!!!!"

The mission was almost complete. Now all that was left was to wait for a good moment to disperse, after which the original, currently outside Konoha, would send a letter to the Hokage saying that Utatane was going to visit a certain secret place (without, of course, specifying where in the letter), so she would be absent from the Village of the Leaf for about a week.

For now, she could direct Uzumaki's anger where it needed to go—that is, at Koharu. And maybe, just a tiny bit, mess with him: tell him exactly what kind of poison it was and lecture him that he needed to be more careful.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Ugh… fuck, that bony bitch… I was mentally cursing Koharu, limping in the direction of my house while at the same time trying, with a hand on my ass and the help of chakra, to draw out the poison. Feels like Amaterasu, that local goddess from the fairy tales, spat right on my ass…

Thanks to the adrenaline dump, I'd stopped feeling the pain almost as soon as it hit, and right after her words about the pain‑inducing poison, I lunged at Koharu. Real shame it was just a clone, which popped the moment my fist was supposed to knock that cold snake's head off.

Alas, even after that—after I swept the whole damn village with my sensory perception—I still couldn't find her chakra. The Leaf was too crowded to pick out her signature at long range, so I spent about five minutes darting around the Village until the pain reminded me it was still there.

The old hag had apparently accounted for everything and, after altering her signature, was hiding somewhere, so I wouldn't be able to find her even if I really tried.

But whatever. The world's round and Konoha's not that big. If not today, we'll bump into each other in a month…

During my search for the granny, chunin and jonin kept rolling up on me, asking if everything was okay. I barely remember how I, probably not very politely, told them yeah, I couldn't be better, and asked them not to get in the way of me looking for one very bad person.

Right now, using my top‑tier chakra shape‑manipulation skills and, on sheer willpower, forcing a freshly invented medical ninjutsu technique through my whole body, I was making a second technique pull the poison—which had already spread through my bloodstream—back to the entry point, while the first finally extracted it from my body.

Should've learned Suiton… I whined inwardly, not very familiar with Water Release jutsu—same as, honestly, with other elemental jutsu. With Water, it would've been easier to flush this crap out of my system.

With similar thoughts, after walking another two hundred meters, I finally managed to completely get rid of the poison. After that, I headed home normally, along the rooftops.

So what was I thinking about back at that cafe? About the Uchiha. They were on everyone's lips right now because of the death of their genius.

Shisui had seemed like such a good guy, even if he was an asshole sometimes. Shame about him.

This whole mess that the average villager doesn't even see—but it's there. The coup. In theory, I could stick my nose into it, change something.

A bit late for that now, of course. It would've been better to interfere while Shisui was still alive. There would've been more options.

The question was: did I even need this?

I turned over the dubious "pros" in my head—like, say, strengthening Konoha in the long run thanks to a clan with strong genes; maybe, though that was doubtful, the Uchiha's loyalty; and, most importantly, a sane Sasuke, who might grow into a seriously powerful shinobi and help me in a clash with the Otsutsuki… Did I mention these prospects were dubious? Every single bullet point on that list was.

The downsides that would follow me helping resolve the coup were… putting myself on the map and making an enemy out of Danzo—if I remembered right, he was the one who really wanted to shorten all the Uchiha by a head. And then it got even worse: putting myself on the radar of Obito, that masked bastard who fought the old man who used to own this body, killed my mother, a bunch of other people, and almost me along with them. And the old man, by the way, had been far from the weakest Kage. On top of that, there was Black Zetsu lurking somewhere out there, that black goo from hentai cartoons that was supposedly crazy smart and a crazy good manipulator. With all that, getting involved in this coup business looked like a perverted way of committing suicide.

About "putting myself on the map." By that I meant showing that I could be a threat. My chakra flares around the village and my jumps across the rooftops didn't really show much of that threat. Having a shit‑ton of chakra doesn't mean I can actually use it. Shunshin doesn't prove much either. And I hadn't thrown around any techniques even of B‑rank, so there probably wasn't much to worry about yet.

Back to the Uchiha. Even if I completely turned my brain off and decided to barge into this mess, how was I supposed to resolve the coup so that the Uchiha stayed alive—and everyone else in the Village too?

I could try to find irrefutable proof that the Uchiha were being manipulated by a third party (Obito), and that this manipulator was behind the Nine‑Tails' attack and all the tension. Assuming that kind of proof even existed. That'd require insane espionage skills, serious analytical chops, and probably help from people I trusted completely—like ANBU personally loyal to me (which, conveniently, I did not have). I'd need to find Obito's tracks, his motives, his connection to past events…

Maybe some people in Konoha thought I was too full of myself. I didn't see it that way. Sure, I was hot shit, but in an operation like that there was, what, a ninety‑nine percent chance I'd screw up somewhere and get myself killed. And even if everything somehow worked out, Obito would most likely find out about my little investigation and try to take me out. Meanwhile, the evidence itself might be considered unconvincing. Meaning I'd just be putting myself under very serious risk without getting anything good out of it.

Another option—though not exactly less insane than the previous one—was to reveal my whole "transmigrator" deal to the Uchiha head. Genjutsu isn't just about illusions. It's also about suggestion, hypnosis, forcing someone to spill what they subjectively think is the truth. So I could stroll up to Fugaku and ask him to use his Sharingan to make me tell him everything I knew about Obito. Then hand that information over to Konoha's leadership under a Yamanaka technique (or the other way around, the order didn't matter much).

That could shift the focus of anger and distrust from the Uchiha to a common enemy. But again, it was all iffy. Starting with the fact that I considered the Uchiha not quite right in the head, and if I came at them with a request like that, they'd either kill me or pack me up and send me off to a psych ward. An Uzumaki jinchuriki is a rarity these days, after all, and just being a weirdo isn't reason enough to kill one.

I could also be some kind of middleman between the Uchiha and the Village's interests, to drag them both to some compromise. Say, more rights for the Uchiha, more respect, lifting of suspicion; for the Village—guarantees of loyalty, a promise to drop the coup idea. Speaking very roughly. But for that I'd need a reputation, power, and some insane diplomatic skills. And the Hokage was probably already doing that, or would start once he learned about the coup; given his character, he almost definitely would. And if even the old man couldn't pull it off, what business did I have sticking my nose in?

The last option was also as dubious as it sounded: kill Danzo and Fugaku, as the main escalators of the conflict, and scatter evidence pointing to some third, unknown party. And then, whatever happens, happens. That might kill the conflict and unite both sides to take on this mysterious threat—or, on the contrary, speed the coup up. And that was without even getting into how to kill two strong, high‑ranking shinobi in the Village at once. Honestly, that part wasn't even the biggest problem. The real problem was doing it in a way that neither side would suspect the other—and that no suspicion would fall on me either. That was the part that was a real pain.

Summing it all up, it was better for me not to climb into this coup shit at all. Sure, I felt bad for the people—but I felt worse for myself.

By the time I reached my little mansion, I'd finally decided the Uchiha's fate.

As for Sasuke… if I ever actually needed him, I'd grit my teeth and pay for a psychiatrist. Luckily, I had a contact.

For now, again, it was time to focus on my own business. Fuinjutsu, medical ninjutsu, brush up on some elemental jutsu. And I still needed to set up a Terrible Vengeance for Koharu.

So I dove into my own stuff.

And so the days started rolling by again.

The old hag only came back a week later. But when I mirrored her and stuck a senbon with a custom poison of my own into her, she just said it was unoriginal and that I could do better, then dispersed. Clone, obviously.

After that, every few days she'd show up again—only to get ambushed by me. Koharu had been right, I could do better, and I really had to come up with more and more twisted tactics. Shame that every time she sent a clone, while she herself seemed to have moved out of Konoha altogether. Worse yet, those same clones started coming after me on their own, each time with a different poison, making me go through the same very painful sensations several more times.

For a week I couldn't sleep. Even moving my bedroom into a windowless corridor didn't stop her. She'd sneak into my house—since she couldn't hit me from long range—and still manage to stick those damn needles into my poor, sleeping body.

Only after a month did I fully adapt. My soul‑sphere vision helped a lot with that, or so I thought. It felt like my brain was now using it—along with my other senses, to a lesser degree—to monitor danger around me even better, around the clock. By the end of that period, after I'd noticed those abilities in myself, I even risked sleeping next to the windows again. And you can imagine my surprise when I managed—on the second try, but still—to catch Koharu's senbon in my hand, and only then wake up.

After that incident, the elder's attacks started to taper off. They'd just lost their point, since every attempt ended with yet another dispersed clone.

Over time, I even developed a sort of grudging gratitude toward the old woman for hammering those very useful reflexes into me.

Then, another month later, when I was no longer half‑dead and pissed off all the time, she came to make peace. For her, constantly sending out clones just to have me pop them was a hassle. And on top of that, she was an elder—she had duties in the village and all that. Back then, Koharu also explained her motive: that I needed to develop proper shinobi reflexes, for my own safety for the rest of my life.

I agreed not to hunt her anymore, and she, judging by her behavior, only fully believed it another couple of months later.

Our delightful relationship—where we tried to stick the nastiest possible poison into each other—continued in our spars. In off‑hours, though, it stayed one‑sided: only from me, to really lock those reflexes in.

Time started flying by again, business as usual.

Koharu, as I figured, was starting to let her guard down…

And that was exactly what I'd been waiting for…

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

In ten months, she'd regret ever being born…

---

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[Lillie Jones]

impressive
Thanks for the chapter
Continue on
Cheers!

 

[Welydora]

About a year—that's how long the preparations for Revenge took overall. I didn't feel like going the crude route: grab Koharu with overwhelming force, drag her down into my basement, pump her full of a poison like the one they used on me, and enjoy her suffering. That would've been boring. And it's not like we were enemies in the full sense. We weren't actually trying to kill each other or torment one another just out of spite. It was just a game… but that didn't mean you shouldn't take it seriously. So… my actual plan was similar to the one I described above, but the nuances were very different.

Most likely, she expected me to hurt her physically. She carefully checked everywhere she stayed or moved through for any trace of poison and was ready for ambushes. How do I know? I'll get to that later. As for her motives, they definitely weren't baseless—after all, I'd tried to set up ambushes for her clones more than once before I finally calmed down and started thinking about a slightly different way to get to her.

Elder Koharu has a certain reputation, and a big part of it rests on her stealth and how she uses it. It's not just Root that does espionage; some of the Hokage's ANBU do it too, plus a kind of personal—but not entirely—ANBU under Utatane's direct command. You could say Konoha has at least three spy services, which isn't that surprising for what is literally a village of spies. Okay, "service" is a bit loud, considering each one probably doesn't have that many people in it. A few squads here, a few more there—that's what I figure from the patterns and facts I've picked up in this world, and that's most likely how it is.

Destroying that reputation would hurt. A lot. On the scale of the whole village, it could lead to major, irreversible consequences. So I wasn't planning to go big. But on a smaller, more personal scale? Oh, absolutely.

Wanting to ruin the old hag on her own turf, I methodically and carefully sent shadow clones to shadow Koharu. Their chakra signatures were altered and muted, and they were filthy—smeared in a special clay with minerals mixed in so that even a Hyūga wouldn't be able to recognize them if it came to that. For months, from as far away as possible, they learned the routes of Koharu, her subordinates, and her subordinates' subordinates. They used the skills she herself had taught me, plus everything I knew about that old mare—her habits, what she paid the most attention to—and also tried out some new tricks to reduce the chance of detection even further. The shadow clones were as careful as possible; there was no point in rushing. So only after several months of prep did the spying start to bear its first fruit.

That's why I knew exactly what Koharu was expecting from me and what she was up to.

I used a lot of fuin. A lot. Placed in key spots, they picked up sound vibrations and recorded, for later analysis, Koharu's orders to her subordinates and the orders given by the top people among those subordinates. Without using chakra—so as not to trip any sensors—tunnels were dug under the meeting and rest areas of shinobi under Utatane's command, as well as under the elder's own house and workplaces.

A few more months gave me even more. On top of the fact the clones kept finding more and more ways to get intel, they documented everything about Koharu's own plans, secret ANBU operations, every mission they managed to learn about, and weaknesses in various security systems—things she was supposed to keep under wraps or keep under control. Over the months, all of that was compiled into several scrolls, which I then memorized and kept only in my head—to minimize the risk of anything leaking and to avoid putting Konoha in danger.

When day X finally came, I created a clone with more than half my chakra and handed it a copy of the encrypted scroll of kompromat, sealed in one of my special bracers with a storage seal that could be triggered to self-destruct its contents.

I myself headed toward the Hokage Residence. I needed to hang around there, as a safe spot, and keep my main clone under control so it wouldn't dispel because of some unforeseen crap. Or, on the contrary, so it would dispel—but only after making damn sure it destroyed whatever was in that storage bracer.

That same shadow clone's POV

The streets of Konoha were warm, but not too hot. A pleasant breeze brushed against my skin, and the birdsong seemed especially nice today.

Practically dancing along to the little tune that had started playing in my head, I walked toward Koharu's workplace.

Entering the strictly furnished building, I moonwalked straight up to the door the elder was behind.

Sliding the door open without a sound, I immediately met Koharu's narrow eyes, absolutely overflowing with suspicion.

Her subordinates had definitely reported my arrival, and of course they hadn't forgotten to mention what mood I was in.

Besides her, there was an ANBU on duty in the corner, and a few more outside the room.

When I came in and sat at the small table across from the old hag, she asked in a "friendly" tone:

"What the hell are you doing here, you insolent brat?"

"You know, today is just one hell of a good day."

Judging by how her face wrinkled up even more, she disagreed.

"Ahem," I coughed, then lazily waved a hand to tell the ANBU on duty to leave. "Don't bother us."

He only listened when the old woman repeated the gesture.

Koharu's face got even darker, with a layer of seriousness on top.

"Don't waste my time. I have a ton of work to do, unlike some people," she said, starting to lose her temper.

In response to her attempt to rush me, I just burst out laughing, loud and long, which pissed her off even more.

Right when it looked like she was about to blow and probably chuck something heavy at me, I stopped dead.

My hand went to the bracer. A pulse of chakra, and a thick book appeared, landing on the table with a loud thump at my gesture.

For a moment, the old hag glanced at the new object, then shifted her gaze to my face, which had gone dark and serious under the shadow that had fallen over it.

"The hour of reckoning has struck. Read."

Dialing the tension down a notch, Koharu reached for the book, opened it, and started checking the sections.

Her eyes immediately landed on a list of codenamed missions she herself was in charge of, sorted by date.

"This…" She stared at me in shock. "You were never supposed to have this information."

Without saying anything else, her gaze jumped to the section listing eleven weaknesses found in the ANBU structure: how information is passed inside the organization and her personal screwups in organizing all the mission processes.

"I'm not in a hurry. Take your time," I said as the elder raised her head, and she immediately dove back into reading.

Over the next ten minutes, her expression cycled from stunned, to frowning, to upset, and finally to pure despair.

"Maybe this isn't all your classified info. Some of your safety measures, I admit, are very good," I began. "Even after a long time, I couldn't get around some of them. And there's probably stuff I couldn't even find a trace of, right?"

The old woman tore her eyes away from the book and stared at me, her lips pressed into a line.

"But even what is here? It's not 'a little'. No. It's a fuckton."

"What do you want?" Koharu asked dryly, and immediately clarified, "For this information to stay right here."

Yeah, of course she figured out I wanted to leak this data. Most likely, only to trusted people—some important jōnin, the other elder, Mitokado Homura, and a hundred percent the Hokage. That would be a brutal blow to her reputation. All those weaknesses in her structure—she was the one who should've foreseen them, prevented them. She's the expert in this field, after all.

Maybe they'd strip her of her authority. Maybe not. Either way, Koharu wouldn't be able to look the people she'd worked with for decades in the eye. Her whole path as a shinobi would be disgraced.

Honestly, it still wasn't the absolute worst. Bad, sure. But Koharu is sharp and pretty inventive. She'd probably already imagined an even worse outcome for herself than anything I could've come up with.

"I'll warn you right away: I'm a shadow clone. The original has all this information stored in his head," I said first, cutting off any bright ideas she might have. Like grabbing me to try and convince me this stuff should only go to her and never, ever be told to anyone else. In response, I just heard a snort.

"And he's most likely hanging around the Hokage Residence," Koharu said, keeping a surprisingly straight face. "So that, if anything happens, he can hand me over immediately and without any trouble."

My smug grin only confirmed her guess.

"And I also know you took every precaution to make sure this"—she lifted the book—"doesn't end up where it shouldn't. We've studied each other well, Uzumaki."

"Exactly. But you know, I'm not without a sense of gratitude. Love for my fellow man. Understanding. We've been through a lot together," I finally started getting to the point. "So I'm offering you two options. First: I tell all this to the Hokage, and only him. You lose all authority only in his eyes…"

"…in the eyes of a man I'll be forced to see very often," Koharu noted reasonably.

"Yeeah…" I drawled, even more pleased.

If the info stayed between just the three of us, things would play out exactly the way she'd just said. Hiruzen would be very unlikely to fire her. She did her job, if not perfectly, then well enough. But for her it'd still turn into an eternal, almost daily shame.

"Second option." From my second bracer I unsealed an hourglass and a syringe filled with dark liquid. Koharu's eyes flashed in recognition. A shadow fell over my face again, making my grin look even nastier. "One thousand five hundred and eleven seconds. I counted every single goddamn second of agony in that month. You're going to inject this yourself and endure it, fully conscious, until the sand runs out. Otherwise, we'll stretch this out into as many sessions as it takes."

I unloaded the items onto the table.

Koharu hesitated, but still reached for the poison.

"Hear that sound, Uzumaki? That's the First Hokage rolling in his grave over all your 'love' and 'understanding'," she said, then, in one sharp motion, drove the needle into herself.

Immediately, clenching her jaw, Koharu toppled back and curled up on the floor. Veins bulged across her forehead from the pain.

Slowly flipping the hourglass, I settled in comfortably to wait.

Soon the old hag's mouth opened and she started breathing hard—ragged, but deep.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant sight. But it did bring a solid dose of satisfaction.

And so, to the sound of Koharu's harsh breathing, her allotted seconds dragged by.

She'd positioned herself so she could see the hourglass. And when the last grains of sand fell, she simply blacked out.

"Hm. Respectable," I admitted, standing up. "Let's see what we've got here…"

I bent over her body to check her condition.

Alive. Teeth cracked to hell from the strain. I couldn't see it myself, but I knew for a fact her central nervous system was fucking… shocked by that kind of stress and only held the body conscious thanks to sheer iron will.

Forming a few hand seals, I started spewing a stream of water from my mouth. The liquid didn't fall—it gathered into an amorphous mass in my hands.

Over the past year, I'd managed to pick up Wind and Water Release—not at a very high level, especially if you compared me to Hiruzen, but still.

"This won't hurt either…" From my leg, a web of fuin started spreading out around Koharu, helping me treat her.

Once I'd built up enough water, I wrapped Koharu's whole body in it. The water seeped into her and began drawing the poison out.

A few minutes later, the same old hag was still lying there soaked, and in my left hand was a ball of water with all the poison inside.

Walking over to the side of the room, I dug out the only bit of luxury in this otherwise ascetic place—a small teapot and a few cups. I poured the poisoned water into the teapot.

"A souvenir," I said, setting the teapot on the table, then left the room.

I had other things to do. I always do.

On that note, Revenge could be considered complete.

I took the book. I'll hand it back when she wakes up. And after something like this, Koharu won't be waking up for a couple of days.

For now, I'll go tell the ANBU to haul her off to the hospital.

Some time later. Utatane Koharu

The Konoha elder came to on a hospital bed in her home village. She recognized the white room right away.

Her whole body ached with that nasty, all-over pain. Recent memories slammed into her skull along with the headache.

"The pain will pass soon… My reputation, though, would've been lost forever," Utatane reminded herself, justifying her decision.

For a few minutes, her face twisted as she remembered a certain blond-haired boy. The "old woman" felt real irritation and humiliation at having been "taught a lesson" like that by a literal child.

"Well… that was seriously done," she couldn't help but admit. The feelings were quickly smothered by pragmatism.

Now the image of the infuriating, way-too-brazen-for-his-size brat—whom Koharu had already respected a little for his effort in realizing his potential and his quick grasp of her teachings—jumped up a solid few points.

"And I suppose I won't be planning any revenge of my own…" Utatane decided sensibly. She understood she wasn't getting any younger, while the sometimes-to-the-point-of-pain irritating Uzumaki, on the contrary, was getting stronger every year. She wasn't afraid, but she understood perfectly well that that was it. She wouldn't keep up. This… insubordinate youth had surpassed her. At least in most professional aspects.

Koharu also wasn't worried he'd pull something as stupid as leaving that book lying on her desk for some subordinate to read. If he had made such a dumb mistake, she would've pulled together every scrap of power she had, found him, and with a whole crowd taught him a lesson even harsher than anything she'd done before. As it was, Utatane knew Uzumaki would keep his word.

When the woman was discharged, she would, of course, get that little book. Then, with all the diligence she had, she'd go over everything: ANBU, her subordinates, the whole organization. She'd do everything she could to close all the weaknesses Uzumaki had found, and she'd try to find new ones. All that would happen a bit later, after her "suddenly initiated inspections." She'd shut down the most critical gaps immediately, but the little stuff could wait.

No need to rush that part. The vulnerabilities Uzumaki had been able to identify were due to a number of solid reasons. They didn't mean that if enemy spies came here, they'd just as easily find everything he did. Her student, first of all, had skills that very, very few spies possess; second, he knew Konoha's shinobi and her personally very well; third, he had huge freedom of movement through the village and, accordingly, better conditions for deeper reconnaissance; and fourth, he had even more options thanks to his unique abilities—like a ridiculous amount of chakra and those shadow clones of his, which, in such large numbers and on a constant basis, probably only the blond could make.

Koharu's workload had definitely gone up, and her problems hadn't shrunk. The Uchiha… a headache. But you could live with that too.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

When the old hag recovered, I handed her the honestly earned little book, got a thank-you for the tea, and went back to my usual rhythm of life.

Hiruzen grumbled something along the lines of why, after I get involved, an elder had to be dragged to the hospital with nervous shock. I blamed it on our personal relationship and asked him not to interfere and let me sort it out myself. Later, when Koharu had fully recovered, she asked Hiruzen to do exactly what I'd asked for too. The old man respected our personal boundaries and didn't bring it up again.

Koharu, by the way, seemed to really appreciate how carefully I'd looked after her little book. After that, she started treating me with a lot more respect.

Still, in the grand scheme of things, not that much changed.

Training went on.

Life flowed along at its own pace. Month after month.

Just like in the story I knew, the Uchiha massacre happened. It didn't stir much in me. I was focused on my own stuff, especially medicine.

Only occasionally, to blow off some steam and change the scenery, I'd drop by the Academy.

On one of those "visits," I got the chance to show off my basic grasp of psychology.

---

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[Lillie Jones]

impressive
Thanks for the chapter
Continue on
Cheers!

 

[Princekor]

I fuck with the story and deep dives in si-narus thoughts. Reminds of the old fanfics. Despite understanding why he didn't get involved with the uchia massacre. It's feels less pragmatic and more like callous fear. Keep up the great work.

 

[Welydora]

On a typical day, I was sitting through yet another lesson at the Academy. Gendai, in his usual, measured manner, was lecturing us on chakra theory—very superficially and in broad strokes, so the kids could get it. The actual lesson wasn't much use to me.

More than a year had passed since I'd enrolled in the Ninja Academy. I was almost eight, and it was early October.

Not much had happened at the Academy during that time, though the personalities of certain characters had definitely revealed themselves.

In the back of the classroom, at the last desks, sat two girls, one with pink hair and the other blonde. Sakura and Ino, obviously.

Exchanging looks that could practically throw off lightning, they kept shooting what they considered loving gazes at the black‑haired kid sitting in front of them—Sasuke.

At the very beginning of our studies, Sakura had been very modest, followed etiquette, and hid her emotions. Ino, on the other hand, was pretty loud‑mouthed, bold, and sometimes a bit too expressive with her feelings. Somehow these two opposites attracted and became friends.

I found out from Hinata that, sometime when I wasn't around, a bunch of little shits, copying each other, started teasing the pink‑haired girl. The blonde stood up for her, and that's what they bonded over. Ino even gave Sakura a red ribbon, which she now ties into a bow on her head. It turned into a very cute little story of friendship and Sakura slowly growing more confident.

That lasted until the recent incident with the Uchiha clan. After the failed coup and the wiping out of almost all the red‑eyes, it just so happened that both girls, as they saw it, fell in love with Sasuke. Now they were rivals and, of course, Great Enemies.

The black‑haired kid himself didn't return their feelings and persevered in his indifference. It wasn't just those two clinging to him, either—almost every girl in the class did. But the Uchiha, again, held the line, doing his best to pretend he saw nothing, that their little fits of passion didn't annoy him or stir anything else up, and kept a stone‑cold face. With very mixed success, but it was enough for my female classmates to buy it… and get even more fired up.

Besides pretending to be a chunk of rock, Sasuke was also killing it in class and was the top student. I don't know how that's supposed to help him get revenge on his big bro, the one who butchered their whole family. But I guess he's got some kind of plan and he's sticking to it.

Another one of my classmates was a kid with a permanently bored expression—Shikamaru. It seemed to me he'd already figured life out. How else do you explain why, instead of listening to hour‑long lectures that you could understand in ten minutes of reading, if not less, he just slept through class? And he went further: outside of class time he also didn't bother loading his limitless brain with useless knowledge, so he couldn't answer the questions Gendai sometimes threw at him. Because of that, despite being from the Nara clan—supposedly tacticians and big‑time brainiacs—Shikamaru trailed somewhere near the bottom of the class rankings.

The next student whose character showed itself pretty clearly was Choji. You know, the one with underwear on his head—though he calls it a headband. A kind‑looking, friendly boy; we'd talked about good food a few times. He's friends with Shikamaru. There was this one incident, though, when some not‑very‑tactful kid called Choji a fatass. I was already in the classroom then and was about to say something. But there was no point. The young Akimichi, like he'd just stuffed himself full of berserker pills, immediately lunged at the offender, yelling that he wasn't fat, just big‑boned.

Kids usually don't really get morality or the consequences of their actions. Choji didn't hold back at all—he flattened the kid like a torpedo and started choking him. I had to break them up, since the teacher was off screwing around somewhere.

The next pair was a little duo made up of Kiba Inuzuka and Shino Aburame. Two opposites again. The first is pretty hot‑headed and doesn't watch his mouth. He doesn't drag his dog around with him yet, unlike in the story I know. Guess Akamaru hasn't been born yet. The second is quiet and almost never talks. His clan techniques are based on interacting with insects that the Aburame carry inside their bodies. The kid seems to enjoy watching them at break, when the little critters amusingly crawl out of the holes in his skin and skitter across his desk. Oh, and yeah, those two aren't friends at all; they more like low‑key dislike each other. But Shino argues with Kiba more than with anyone else and, accordingly, talks to him the most. So there's some kind of connection between them.

Hinata, for her part, showed her shy nature pretty clearly when we met. We kind of talked, but not much. And that was over the whole time I'd been at the Academy. Though, based on my memories, this girl wasn't supposed to be able to string even a few words into a sentence. Turned out that wasn't quite true—her shyness wasn't that all‑consuming. Around me, that trait dulls a bit more. When we sit together, she actually seems more comfortable. And that's… pretty cute and at the same time kind of sad. I get these half‑paternal, half‑big‑brother feelings toward this girl.

I tried a few times to pull her into conversations with our other classmates, to help her build connections and develop some social skills. It only sort of worked with Ino. But Ino's a chatterbox anyway, so I doubted that was mostly my achievement.

There were other kids in the class, but I interacted with them even less than with the ones mentioned above. Unlike the clan kids, those ones tried to keep their distance from me. To be fair, you could see some caution toward me even in people like Ino or Kiba, just to a lesser degree. Choji and Shikamaru, though, didn't give a shit about the general mood. And neither did Hinata.

Anyway, back to the clanless kids. There was another thing about them—a revolving door. They changed pretty often. After a year, half of them had either transferred to another class for whatever reason or dropped out entirely. And, as I found out, this would repeat every year. That's the usual trend at the Academy: there's a core of clan kids who stick it out till the end of the course, while the rest get tossed around.

For different reasons—lots of them get expelled for failing grades. The Academy, if you don't judge it by my standards, is actually pretty prestigious and keeps the bar high, especially compared to some random school. In my opinion it's not on some other level, they don't teach anything particularly hard here, but yeah, the standard's decent. So if you don't keep up and don't have relatives who can slip some cash to cover for their dumbass kid, you can definitely get kicked out.

Another reason for dropping out, usually voluntary, is the high tuition and a lack of talent. With enough effort, you can get a solid education here. But some parents, when they see their kid isn't a genius—in fact, more like the opposite—sensibly decide to send their offspring to some other place where they'll pick up practical skills in a different, more realistic field. Training as a ninja eats a pretty hefty sum of money and a ton of time. If you're not an orphan, the Village isn't going to fund you.

There are other ways to get expelled, but talking about them is boring. And besides those, there are probably a few I don't even know about.

Back to why the clanless kids kept their distance from me. From what I overheard a couple of times, their parents told them to. A couple of times they even said it right in front of me, so, not missing the chance, I'd point at those parents, then spin that same finger at my temple, clearly showing what I thought of them.

Though, to be fair, thanks to the way I introduced myself on the first day, a lot of kids already had plenty of reasons of their own to avoid me. I mean, I'm obviously a psycho. Who else would show up like that? And for some reason my note from the psychiatrist didn't convince them otherwise.

The lesson was drawing to a close, and I shifted my attention to our homeroom teacher. He taught us most of our subjects.

Gendai was a calm and slightly slow guy. Only our first meeting didn't go well—he'd been nervous about something back then. But over time he calmed down.

Our relationship was basically at the level of him thinking, "Ah, fuck it, whatever," about me, and me thinking, "No, dude, you're gonna take my bribe and pass me for the year," about him. Because of my schedule—and the simple fact that, for the most part, the Academy wasn't really necessary for me—I skipped a lot. At first that pissed Gendai off. Some students, like Kiba, Choji, and Shikamaru, even started taking cues from me and skipping classes too, which pissed sensei off even more. But while he could do something about those three, with me—he couldn't.

He tried to find me outside of class, but it didn't work out very often. They wouldn't let him into the hospital's research labs, telling him he was screwing around with bullshit and should stop distracting the esteemed Uzumaki‑san from his important work. They really didn't let him onto the training grounds either, where I did my sparring. Once he managed to corner me when I was with Koharu, but he got chewed out by the elder, who told him that if he kept distracting me from important work, he'd get a stick across the spine. The man decided not to test how sturdy his back was and didn't go near the elder again.

There were also times when Gendai caught me at home or somewhere else when I was alone. That's when he'd start digging into why I was apparently pissing on attendance and all that. In response he got an honest answer: I didn't need the Academy because I already knew a lot. So the teacher ran a little test with questions from the last year's curriculum, which, to his surprise, my humble self answered. But he didn't calm down and started asking questions that weren't from the Academy's program, and got the answer that those weren't in the syllabus. That answer just blew his mind, because apparently not all the teachers even know the curriculum, and here a student does.

Next he decided to check my combat ability, so we went to a training ground. A shinobi's supposed to know how to fight, after all. But it was over in less than a second. One "Sha‑a‑a‑a!" from me, and Gendai was down. That ended our conversation for the day, and the man left me alone for a while.

But soon he started showing up again and pestering me about attendance. This time he remembered my obligations as a student, that I really was required to attend classes. I had nothing to say to that, since my guardian must've signed a contract with clauses like that for me. From that moment I started actively offering Gendai a bribe so that he would:

a) finally leave me the hell alone, because he was distracting,

b) pass me for the year with good grades, since I like pretty numbers, even if not that much,

c) just pass me for the year in general, because I needed it for my further education.

But this "Bear"—going by the meaning of his name—dug his heels in like a rhinoceros. He didn't want to take my money. Normally I deal with bears quickly and harshly, but with this particular specimen I couldn't do that—it doesn't really fit the village philosophy. Anyway, Gendai resisted and resisted, but by the end of the year, and after a whole lot of persuading on my part—he took it. He got in trouble for it later and said he would definitely never take a bribe again. But that was a problem for future me.

In class, the guy doesn't bother me. Every time he asked me a question, I'd start to drone on, answering for several minutes when a ten‑second answer would have been enough. And he knew that I knew the material, so there was no real point in asking.

Aside from that first day at the Academy, I didn't really put on shows, which suited Gendai just fine.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice how the lesson ended. Finishing his lecture, Kumao habitually bolted from the classroom.

The break was short, so some people didn't even get up from their seats, just started chatting.

Most of the girls, of course, immediately swarmed Sasuke, while he, naturally, pretended to be a rock.

I almost felt bad for him. They've been like that pretty much nonstop for over two months now.

At that moment, at the desk next to me and Hinata, Shikamaru woke up and, stretching happily, noticed the crowd.

"No, I still don't get it. Why are they all over him like that?" he asked the air.

"That's a philosophical question," I replied casually. "But psychology can explain it too. I know my way around that field. I showed you my certificate, right?"

"Yeah. I think you were bragging about it in front of everyone," Choji, sitting next to Shikamaru and already rustling open a bag of chips, replied neutrally.

"Well then, I'm glad you asked." I turned to Sasuke. "Sasuke, you mind if I make a few assumptions about you?"

In response, the Uchiha just shot me a cold look.

"I'll take that as a yes. Ladies…?"

Sounds of girls hitting on "Sasuke‑kun"

"They don't give a damn," Shikamaru noted.

"Apparently… Hinata, wanna move closer? If you wanna listen to my brilliant thoughts too, I mean."

We moved over to Choji and Shika's desk.

"So," I began my long speech, "I have conducted a study. You do know that people who've got a paper from a psychiatrist are almost as professional as psychiatrists themselves, right?" A snort came from Shikamaru.

"And, to get closer to the point: Sasuke's popularity is built on a whole range of reasons. For better understanding, I'll be comparing him with another individual. Undoubtedly important, respected, and probably the best person in this world."

"You?" Choji asked calmly. After a bit of time talking to me, he'd started to get how my brain works.

"Exactly." I put on a serious face. "My research has identified four main pillars that hold up, so to speak, our classmate's attractiveness. First and most important: the effect of mystery and emotional tension. Our Sasuke creates, in those around him—especially the girls—what's called affective uncertainty. Simply put, you can't figure him the hell out. He's silent, stares into nowhere, zero emotion. And that, weirdly enough, creates cognitive tension. The brain tries to 'solve' him like a hard puzzle, and for every such effort it gets a microdose of dopamine—the pleasure hormone. Get it? It's like gambling: the less clear the outcome, the more you want to keep playing. Unpredictability is a drug for the brain."

I glanced over my audience. Hinata was paying attention, Choji kept a neutral look, focused on his food, and Shikamaru decided my words would go down better while lying on the desk with his eyes closed.

"My humble self, on the other hand, is understandable and accessible. I don't mind talking to anyone and saying what I think. My behavior is predictable. With me, there's no titillating tension, which means no dopamine roller coaster. That causes way less of that dopaminergic buzz. Especially in young people, who naturally go looking for sharper sensations."

"Your predictability is debatable," Choji remarked.

"Yeah, fair. But if you look at my overall behavior, you get roughly that picture."

"Hmph," Shikamaru grunted, unclear whether in agreement or not. He wasn't asleep yet.

"Second point." I tapped two fingers on the desk. "Might sound like the same thing, but not quite. A deficit of attention. Pure economics. What's scarce is expensive. Sasuke almost never hands out his attention. It's a rare resource. Every crumb of it is valued like a gold bar. My nature tends more toward openness. My attention isn't in short supply, so its value trends toward zero."

"That's not true… Naruto‑kun," Hinata objected quietly. "I value your attention."

"And I value that you value it," I said, smiling at her. She immediately turned away, blushing. "But I'm talking in general terms here. For each individual it applies to a different degree."

I paused for a bit and, making sure no one had any questions, continued:

"Point three: narrative drama. Sasuke has a story. Tragedy, revenge, a dark fate, a lost clan. It's a ready‑made plot for an illustrated scroll. The teenage psyche, which is already full of inner conflict, loves stories like that. It's easy to empathize with a suffering hero, to project your own crap onto him. I, in my current version, am stable and straightforward. I don't have that gripping drama going on. I'm not as interesting to 'dive into' emotionally. Technically speaking, that's narrative transportation—the more tragic the story, the easier it hooks you. And finally, the fourth and last point: gender archetypes. Sasuke fits the 'suffering antihero' archetype perfectly. Strong, silent, broken on the inside. Classic template for romantic fantasies—the kind you want to 'save' and 'warm up.' I, on the other hand, even if I were the most successful in the class, fall into the 'reliable friend' archetype. I can be respected, you can laugh with me, cry into my shoulder, but that rarely sparks romantic passion."

Finishing, I once again looked over my listeners. Hinata was just quietly glancing my way, Choji was staring at an empty bag of chips, deep in thought, and from Shikamaru's direction I could already hear soft snoring.

…

At some point Nara told me that my words sometimes make him sleepier than Gendai's lectures. He also guessed it was because my thoughts are complicated and I throw around too many "fancy" terms. I took that as a compliment. Though yeah, it's a reminder I should probably drone on less.

"Ahem. Put more simply, and outside of the 'research,' there are more reasons. Sasuke's just plain rich, from an ancient clan—that alone adds a bunch of points. I've got a good bloodline too, and probably even more money, but no one believes the second part. And he's also pretty good‑looking."

At that last word, not only Hinata and Choji gave me weird looks, but a few girls behind us as well, who, it turned out, had been half‑listening. And also… out of the corner of my eye I saw the Uchiha's eyes widen a little, and he edged his chair back, a bit farther away from me.

"What? No!" I bellowed immediately. "Looks are an objective metric! Nothing personal."

I whipped around sharply.

"You," I said, pointing at a girl who'd started throwing quick glances between me and Sasuke. "Forget whatever you just came up with. If I see yaoi of me and him anywhere"—I jabbed a thumb at the Uchiha—"you'll be so fucking sick of running around courts your head'll spin. Am I being clear?"

She nodded carefully.

"Excellent," I said—right as the bell rang.

That was the end of my little crash course in psychology for their still‑soft brains. Nodding to Choji and getting a nod in return, Hinata and I headed back to our usual seats.

---

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[Lillie Jones]

thanks for the chapter
Continue on
Cheers!