Flexing unfamiliar fingers, Ino peered down at the calloused hands before her. The sensation was surreal; it was as though she were peering through a window into someone else's life. A life where every muscle and sinew responded differently, tingling with an energy that wasn't quite her own.
"Is that really you, Ino?" Sakura put Ino's abandoned head on a pillow near her then brushed off her knees as she stepped closer to the body that now housed her friend.
"Of course, it's me," Ino replied, her voice booming in an uncannily tone that echoed Naruto's vocal cords. She couldn't help but sound haughty even when she felt anything but confident. "Weird hearing his voice coming from my mouth though."
Sakura's eyes narrowed in concentration, scrutinizing the way Naruto's normally brash expressions softened under Ino's control. There was something undeniably odd about seeing Ino's delicate frown lines on his usually carefree face.
"Stop staring, it's creeping me out," Ino grumbled, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of Naruto's temple. As Sakura's gaze remained fixed, Ino tried to shrug off the unease settling in her borrowed bones.
Then, without warning, a searing pain ripped through her—no, Naruto's—chakra coils. It was as though they were aflame, scorching her from the inside out. She gasped, her knees buckling beneath her as she collapsed onto the hard-packed earth of Konoha's training ground.
"INO!" Sakura's alarmed cry seemed to come from far away as darkness crowded Ino's vision.
Ino's eyelids fluttered open, her line of vision filled with the familiar cracks and cobwebs that adorned the dark ceiling of the storage room. She could hear Sakura's concerned voice piercing through the fog in her head. "Ino? Can you hear me?"
"Ugh..." Ino managed to push herself upright, a hand going to her throbbing temple. It was as if every beat of her heart took a sledgehammer to her skull—a lovely parting gift from being unceremoniously booted from Naruto's mind. The dusty shelves and scattered scrolls around her swam into focus.
"About time," Naruto grumbled, crossing his arms with a pout that contradicted the tough act, his whisker-marked cheeks puffed out slightly.
"Shut it, Naruto," Ino growled back, though the bite in her words was dulled by exhaustion.
Sakura, wringing the hem of her dress with nimble fingers, leaned in closer. "Are you okay?" Her green eyes were wide with worry, the moonlight filtering through a grimy window casting shadows on her pink hair.
"Fine," Ino said, flashing a wry smile despite the pain. No need to add to Sakura's stress; she was already a tightly wound scroll as it was.
Outside the academy, Ino watched, eyebrow raised, as Naruto stormed off into the night. Where to? His own place, probably—to brood or plot another prank, no doubt. And there went Sakura too, darting away toward the library with hope lighting up her face like she could outrun time itself.
"Good luck," Ino muttered, amusement tugging at her lips.
Alone now, she began the walk home, her steps echoing softly on the moonlit streets of Konoha. Above, the stars played hide and seek among wispy clouds, and Ino let out a slow breath, feeling the day's tension seep away.
Ignoring Naruto all day had been a challenge, but he'd surprised her—especially when she'd hijacked his body with her jutsu. And Sakura, well, getting her cooperation was as easy as promising a study session. But Anko-sensei, with those sharp eyes, had almost caught her talking. That would've been one messy blot on an otherwise spotless record.
She sighed, turning a corner, her gaze landing on a shop owner who was stowing crates of veggies away, his shoulders slumped with fatigue.
"Long day, huh?" Ino muttered under her breath, empathy flickering for a moment before her own weariness pulled her forward.
The thoughts that nagged at her all day returned—the way the villagers eyed Naruto, their glares sharp enough to cut. It wasn't normal, but even when she asked Dad, he looked away in discomfort.
"Tomorrow," Ino whispered to herself, determination setting her jaw. "I'll ask Dad about it tomorrow."
With that promise bolstering her spirits, she reached for the door to her house, the familiar creak a welcome sound. She didn't look back as she stepped inside.
Inoichi's fingers danced among the petals and stems, his practiced hands breathing new life into the wilted deliveries that had arrived at dawn. The shop hummed with the tranquility of a hidden grove, light filtering through the large front window and casting a verdant glow on the array of flowers.
"Hey, Dad?" Ino's voice cut through the quiet, sharp with youthful curiosity. "Why do people look at Naruto like he's... different?"
He paused, a small sigh slipping past his lips as his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. There was no escaping this conversation; the hokage's decree hung over them like an unspoken jutsu, binding their tongues. With a deft twist, he rehomed a drooping fern into a larger pot, buying time to gather his thoughts.
"Sweetheart," Inoichi started, opening his eyes to meet his daughter's inquisitive gaze. "It's complicated. People have their reasons, but it's not fair—they shouldn't treat him that way. It's not his fault."
Ino blinked, her surprise evident before her brows knitted together, the wheels in her mind spinning faster. "But why? What did he ever do?"
"Nothing, Ino," he grimaced, setting the flowerpot down with a gentle clunk. Her thirst for knowledge was one of her finest traits, yet it pained him to feed her such half-truths. "It's just... something happened before he was born. And that's why some folks can't see past it."
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Inoichi grabbed his flak jacket from the hook by the door. He couldn't tell her—not when the shadows of the past still loomed so large. "I've got to head out now. You wrap up with the preparation, okay?"
"Okay..." Ino's voice trailed off, a mix of confusion and dissatisfaction lingering in the air as her father disappeared down the bustling streets of Konoha, leaving her alone among the whispers of leaves and the unsolved mysteries of hearts and minds.
Naruto trudged up the worn steps to the back of the academy classroom, his feet dragging slightly as he moved. The familiar buzz of whispered conversations and stifled giggles faded into a tense silence as eyes darted towards him, their gazes like pinpricks on his skin. He had thought switching seats for this year would make him less of a target for those looks, but it seemed his presence was just as noticeable at the back as it was anywhere else in the room.
He let out a heavy sigh, the sound lost amidst the shuffle of papers and the creak of wooden desks. Naruto's life at the academy had shifted ever since that first Kunoichi class turned into Tamashiro Bunko; it was like someone had flipped a switch, illuminating how starkly he stood apart from everyone else. But today's Kunoichi class promised a reprieve, a momentary escape from the scrutiny, even if it was just for an hour at the end of the day. The thought perked him up a bit as he slumped into his seat.
Glancing around, he caught Hinata's eyes for a fleeting second. Naruto flashed her a small, reassuring smile, trying not to notice the few sour faces that followed their interaction. 'Great,' he thought, 'even saying hi to Hinata gets her grief.'
The heavy thud of Ino's footsteps announced her arrival; she stomped in and plopped down onto her chair, tapping her foot with an urgency that matched the ticking of the clock. Naruto's gaze lingered on her for a moment, curious about her rush.
"Settle down, class," came a voice, snapping Naruto's attention forward. Standing next to the usual greying instructor was a new figure—a man with a scar across his face and brown hair secured in a no-nonsense ponytail. He wore the leaf shinobi outfit, flak jacket snug over his chest.
"Name's Umino Iruka, your new teacher for the practical stuff." Iruka's voice was warm, like a hearty bowl of ramen on a cold day. The class buzzed with whispers, everyone throwing glances and nudging each other, wondering what twist this new sensei would bring to their routine.
"Hey! Eyes down here!" Iruka's hand came down in a sharp clap, the sound echoing off the walls. His stern glare swept across the classroom, instantly muting the chatter. The guy meant business, and Naruto couldn't help but respect that.
"Today, we're stepping out for some kunai practice," Iruka announced, a challenging edge to his tone. Naruto's grin spread across his face. 'This is my chance to shine,' he thought.
The students filed out one by one, eager for the change of scenery. Naruto hung back, watching Iruka direct them with a flick of his clipboard. When their eyes met, Naruto saw something flicker across the teacher's face—a storm of emotions he couldn't quite place. Confusion seemed to win out as Iruka motioned for him to join the others outside.
"Coming, Naruto?" Iruka called out, his voice betraying none of the turmoil from a moment ago.
"Uh, yeah!" Naruto replied, scratching the back of his head and flashing a toothy grin. As he stepped out of the classroom, he couldn't shake off the puzzled look on Iruka-sensei's face. What was that all about?
Naruto's sandals crunched on the gravel as he strode into training ground 15, a wide stretch of land dotted with wooden targets that looked like silent sentinels awaiting their fate. Even in the midst of his classmates' incessant murmurs and laughter, the place held a familiar comfort for him—it was here Anko had trained him after all.
"Quiet down!" Iruka-sensei's clap was sharp, a clear signal that cut through the noise like a kunai slices air. The class instantly fell into an obedient silence, their earlier bravado dissipating under his gaze. They shuffled into lines; the anticipation of the exercise palpable as they eyed the worn bags of kunai placed methodically at each starting point.
Naruto watched, his heart thumping a wild rhythm against his ribs, as one by one his peers took their turns. Some throws were spot-on, eliciting cheers and backslaps, while others veered off course, met with groans or teasing jeers. He found himself holding his breath when it was finally his turn, and his classmates' eyes were heavy on him.
Iruka-sensei's hesitation was almost imperceptible as their eyes met, but Naruto caught it—a flicker of uncertainty that mirrored his own. With a nod, Iruka gave the go-ahead, and Naruto reached for his first kunai. The metal felt cool and familiar in his grip.
"Alright, just like practice," he muttered under his breath, focusing on the target ahead. With a deep inhale, he drew his arm back and hurled the kunai with all the precision he could muster.
The world seemed to slow down for a heartbeat as the blade spun through the air, a glint of silver against the backdrop of the field. Then, thud—it embedded itself solidly in the middle of the lower third of the target. Naruto's eyes widened in disbelief; a surge of pride swelled within him.
"Nice throw," Iruka said, sounding genuinely impressed as he scribbled something onto his clipboard. The look he shot Naruto was no longer hesitant but tinged with curiosity, as if seeing him for the first time.
Buoyed by his initial success, Naruto's subsequent throws weren't perfect but still decent, most finding their mark with satisfying thunks. Yet, even amid the quiet nods from Iruka-sensei, he couldn't tune out the snickers from some of his less-impressed classmates. 'Let them laugh,' he thought, a grin fighting its way onto his face. 'I'll show them all.'
Hours later, back in the classroom, Naruto struggled to keep his focus. His head felt heavy, drooping towards the desk, but he snapped upright, wary of attracting the wrath of the teacher. Across the room, Sakura's hand shot up once more, her eagerness practically shining like a beacon.
'Was she always this sharp? 'Naruto pondered, scratching at his whisker-marked cheek. She seemed to dance gracefully through lessons that left him tangled in confusion. The teacher's approving nod towards Sakura only highlighted the contrast between them.
"Undercover work is about balance," the teacher intoned, "protecting your identity but also your comrades."
Naruto's brow furrowed. That sounded important, something worth remembering. He fumbled with his pencil, jotting down notes while trying to keep up with the lecture. When the teacher's eyes landed on him, sharp as shuriken, he could only offer a sheepish chuckle in response to her inquiry.
"Nothing to add, ma'am," he said, voice tinged with awkwardness. Her warning about tolerance—or the lack thereof—loomed over him like a dark cloud.
As the lesson droned on, Naruto's gaze drifted back to Sakura, watching as she confidently answered question after question. 'Maybe she could help me study...' The thought lingered, unspoken yet full of possibilities. Maybe this was another kind of kunai throw he needed to master—one that required reaching out instead of letting go.