The early morning chill bit through Sakura's clothes as she stood in the middle of nowhere. Endless fields of grass stretched around her, disappearing into the thick line of forest in the distance. Everything looked washed out in the pale blue light of dawn, the sun barely a suggestion on the horizon. Five a.m. Really?

She pulled her arms around herself, yawning as she glanced around. Why was she even here? Simple: Kakashi-sensei told her to be, after she'd asked him how she could learn barrier ninjutsu. Sure, it was kind of a random question, but she figured it couldn't hurt. Now she was thinking he was just messing with her. Kakashi-sensei, early? Yeah, right.

"Maybe I can just… lie down for a few minutes…" she mumbled, searching for the closest patch of soft-looking grass.

"Oh, is my cute little genin tired?"

Sakura practically jumped out of her skin. "K-Kakashi-sensei!" she managed, rubbing her eyes in disbelief.

"Yes?" he replied, looking far too alert for this ungodly hour.

"Y-You're… early?" Her mind was still processing. Why was he early, today of all days?

Kakashi just shrugged. "Well, today I didn't get lost on the road of life," he said, as if that explained anything, looking pleased with himself.

The road of life, she thought, deadpan, just staring at him. She was too tired to even react. Inner Sakura wanted to shout, Stop being so smug! But even Inner Sakura was tired, so all she could do was give him a blank look as he reached over and ruffled her hair. Normally, that would irritate her, but she hadn't exactly put any effort into it this morning. She barely had the energy to care.

"Alright, so… when do we start this training?"

"Oh, well, then let's get going. Can't keep your barrier ninjutsu teacher waiting."

Then, without missing a beat, he started weaving through an endless stream of hand signs. His fingers moved so quickly they blurred together, each sign flowing into the next with precise speed.

In an instant, a massive patch of grass ahead of them shimmered, then vanished, as if it had only been an illusion. What lay beneath was a hidden stone stairwell, descending sharply downwards. The sight snapped her fully awake, her mind racing.

"Ready to head into Konoha's Barrier Corps HQ?"

The stairway wound downward, the world above disappearing as the walls rose up, closing them into the earth. Step by step, a strange energy seemed to thicken the air around her. With each step, the weight of the place seemed to sink into her bones.

As they reached the bottom of the stairwell, she stepped into an enormous underground cavern. She barely registered the ceiling above; the space was so expansive, it felt like she'd walked into a stadium. The floor itself was covered by a sealing matrix that stretched endlessly, its intricate lines and symbols written in ink on this giant canvas, forming patterns that coiled and branched across the entire floor. It looked like something that took years—maybe even generations—to create.

In the center of the matrix was a large, clear crystal orb, nearly as tall as she was. Inside, hundreds of red dots moved, clustered and spread out. Some dots moved quickly, crossing paths with others, while some held still. A few seemed to interact, flaring briefly before separating again. The orb pulsed faintly, reacting to whatever the dots were doing, creating a sense of something alive within it.

The layout of the space became clearer as she took a few more steps in. High above the sealing matrix, metal bridges crisscrossed the cavern, connecting from one side to the other, suspended by thick chains bolted into the cavern walls. These bridges led to rooms and buildings built into the sides of the walls, their stone facades blending into the cavern's structure. People moved across these bridges, their footsteps echoing faintly in the vast space.

Below, there were more people scattered across the sealing matrix. Some sat cross-legged in deep meditation, hands placed gently on the lines of the seal. Others spoke in hushed voices, discussing the orb's red dots or jotting down notes on small scrolls. They seemed completely immersed, each person in sync with the energy around them. She couldn't even begin to count how many people filled this place, each focused, each connected to the matrix in some way.

"So," Kakashi said, "pretty impressive, isn't it?"

"Sensei… what is all this?"

"This, Sakura, is Konoha's Barrier Corps HQ. Not many people get to see it, and for good reason. This is the core of the village's security network. Every time someone enters or exits Konoha, that matrix picks it up."

"Wait… so, the red dots in that crystal orb… are those people?"

"Got it in one," Kakashi replied, sounding impressed. "Those dots are chakra signatures. Every person in the village has one, kind of like a fingerprint. The barrier records them all—the villagers, the shinobi, even visitors. Each dot shows a unique signature, so the Corps can keep track of who's where, all the time."

Sakura watched the dots move, some clustering, some drifting apart. "So it's… like a huge surveillance system?"

"Sort of," Kakashi said. "But it's a bit more sensitive than that. This matrix doesn't just track movement—it senses chakra fluctuations too. Let's say someone's chakra spikes suddenly, like if they're fighting or using a lot of jutsu. That would show up as a disturbance."

"Wait, so if I were to, I don't know, throw a big jutsu or something, they'd see it here?"

Kakashi chuckled. "Only if it was strong enough to matter. They're mostly looking for serious spikes—big jutsu, sudden surges, things that could signal trouble. It's how they tell the difference between an academy student practicing fireballs and an actual threat."

Sakura glanced around at the shinobi meditating on the sealing array and taking notes by the crystal. "And… what are all these people doing?"

"Good question," Kakashi said. "You see those people meditating on the matrix? Those are sensory ninjas. They're syncing their chakra with the barrier, so they can feel every signature coming in and out of the village. It's not just looking at dots—they're actually feeling the chakra, like an extension of their own senses."

"So they can just… sense if someone dangerous comes through?"

"Yep. They're trained to pick up on hostile or unfamiliar chakra, even if it's masked. If something doesn't feel right, they report it immediately. The ones up top, taking notes? They're the analysts. They track and record everything—patterns, anomalies, anything strange that might need a closer look."

Sakura's eyes widened. "So… this place is like Konoha's immune system."

Kakashi gave a nod.

"But… there's so many people here. Just for this?"

"Yeah. And none of them get any recognition. No missions, no glory, but without them, Konoha would be a lot more vulnerable. They're the silent guards of the village, working in the background to keep things safe."

Sakura looked at him. "I didn't realize you cared so much about this kind of stuff, Sensei."

"Well, don't let it get around. I have a reputation to uphold." He paused, glancing back at the vast sealing array with respect. "But the truth is, the village can't survive on just a few strong fighters. We need people like this. People who pay attention to the little things, who work in the shadows. It's the only reason the rest of us get to be out there, fighting."

"I… didn't know there was this whole other side to protecting the village."

Kakashi shrugged, his tone casual again. "Most people don't. And that's kind of the point. If this place does its job right, no one has to know it's here. The only ones who notice it are the ones who need to be noticed."

He tilted his head, watching her reaction. "Still want to learn barrier ninjutsu?"

"More than ever."

"Good answer," came another voice, smooth and lazy, as Sakura looked over to see two men approaching them.

The first man had brown, shoulder-length hair that hung loosely around his face, with a single senbon needle clamped casually between his teeth. His forehead protector was tied like a bandanna, and he wore the standard jōnin attire with a certain relaxed confidence. He looked at Sakura with a faint smirk, as if he already knew everything there was to know about her.

Beside him stood another jōnin with a distinctive feature: a scar like a jagged welt ran across the bridge of his nose and down one side of his face. His brown spiky hair and dark eyes gave him a serious, almost brooding look. Unlike his companion, he didn't seem inclined to smile. Instead, he examined Sakura with a calm, assessing gaze. His hands were wrapped in black bandages, and she noticed the faint glint of metal rings on a few of his fingers.

"Genma. Raido," Kakashi greeted them with a nod. "I see you two managed to tear yourselves away from lounging around the mess hall."

Genma gave a lazy shrug, the senbon in his mouth shifting from one side to the other. "We heard there was a new recruit," he said, glancing at Sakura with a glint of curiosity. "Didn't expect it to be one of your students, though, Kakashi."

"Ah, Sakura's a fast learner," Kakashi replied smoothly. "And I knew the Barrier Corps could use some fresh talent. Figured she could handle you two without too much trouble."

Raido raised an eyebrow, his scar stretching slightly with the motion. "We're not here to scare her off," he said. "But she'll need to prove she's serious. Barrier work isn't for everyone."

"I'm ready for whatever you have planned."

Genma chuckled. "Confident. I like that." He turned to Kakashi with a sly grin. "Mind if I give her a little test? Just to see if she's got the control for this kind of work?"

"Be my guest. Though you might want to be careful—Sakura's full of surprises."

Genma's smirk widened, and he pulled the senbon from his mouth, twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease. "Alright, Sakura. Think you can balance this?" He held out the toothpick-sized needle, raising an eyebrow.

Sakura reached out, taking the senbon carefully. She felt the weight—light, almost insubstantial. But she knew what this was about. Chakra control. She glanced at Kakashi, who gave her an encouraging nod.

Taking a deep breath, she focused, channeling chakra into her fingertips, letting it flow evenly through the senbon. Slowly, she lifted her hand, balancing the needle upright on her index finger. It wobbled for a moment, and she adjusted her chakra flow, steadying it until the senbon was perfectly still.

Genma's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. He leaned in, squinting at the needle as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "First try… huh."

"What's the matter, Genma? Didn't you need, what… a dozen tries before you managed that?"

Genma shot kakashi a look. "I could get it to balance. Just couldn't keep it steady for more than a few seconds."

Raido chuckled softly. "Looks like you've been shown up, Genma."

Genma grumbled. "Beginner's luck. Maybe she's just a natural."

"A natural? I thought that was you, Genma. Weren't you telling everyone how you'd mastered chakra control when you were, what, ten?"

Genma huffed, flicking the senbon back into his mouth. "Hey, it's not as easy as it looks. You'd know that if you actually practiced this stuff, Kakashi."

"Oh, but I do practice," Kakashi replied, deadpan. "I just happen to be better at it."

Sakura watched the exchange, a little surprised by Kakashi's uncharacteristic teasing. He almost seemed… protective. Her heart lifted a bit—Kakashi wasn't the type to go out of his way for just anyone. Sensei is awesome, Inner Sakura yelled proudly.

"Alright, alright. You've got talent, I'll give you that. But raw talent only gets you so far. You'll need to work your butt off if you want to make something of it." Genma glanced at Raido. "Think she can keep up?"

"She might. And the kid will have to, considering Kakashi pulled some strings to get her a teacher."

"You… really did that, Sensei?"

Kakashi gave her a lazy wave, brushing it off as if it was no big deal. "Well, my cute little genin wanted to dabble in barrier ninjutsu, so I thought, why not? I'm not much of a barrier expert myself, so I just… asked around."

Genma chuckled. "And you just happened to land on Iwashi? Really, Kakashi? Out of all the possible instructors, you picked him?"

"Did you lose a bet or something?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Iwashi's a good teacher."

Genma and Raido both raised their eyebrows in perfect synchronization, then looked at each other before turning back to Kakashi.

"In what world?"

Kakashi's eye crinkled. "In the world where I trust him to push Sakura to her limits. Isn't that what matters?"

Sakura took a deep breath, grounding herself, steadying her nerves. She reminded herself of Tenten's words about being a part of a bigger machine. Every cog has its role, she thought. This is how I contribute to Team 7.

Sakura followed Kakashi, Genma, and Raido across the metal bridge, expecting something grand or imposing. But when she looked around, her first thought was how… ordinary it seemed.

Honestly, it wasn't anything special. The place felt more like an office than the heart of Konoha's defenses. The walls were plain concrete, gray and utilitarian, with no decoration or personal touches.

Genma said, turning to Sakura. "Bet you five ryo he's standing there with a coffee and the morning paper, halfway through, like he always is."

"Now that's just a losing bet."

Sakura gave them a confused look, wondering if they were exaggerating. But as they stepped inside, there he was: a man in his late twenties, dark eyes focused on the newspaper in his hand, a coffee cup in the other. He had brown hair and a small goatee, and wore a simple grey uniform—identical to the others working in the Barrier Corps. He looked… ordinary. Incredibly ordinary. Like he could have been a clerk at a library, not a barrier specialist in Konoha's security network.

Genma leaned over to Sakura, whispering, "Now he's gonna head to the fridge, grab a slice of sourdough, eat about two-thirds, sip his coffee, finish the rest, then wash it down. Watch."

To Sakura's surprise, Iwashi did exactly that, moving with an almost mechanical precision. He finished his coffee, tossed the paper cup into the trash, then folded his newspaper with care, as if he were completing some kind of daily ritual.

"Now he's going to come over and introduce himself like he's never met a stranger in his life," Genma said, smirking.

Iwashi finally looked up, his expression calm and unreadable. He gave a small nod to each of them. "Kakashi. Genma. Raido." Then his gaze settled on Sakura, who straightened under his steady stare.

"Iwashi Tatami."

Sakura nodded back, trying to keep a straight face. "Sakura Haruno. It's… nice to meet you."

He looked at her for a moment longer, his eyes giving nothing away, then nodded. "Haruno. You're going to shadow me. My job is to introduce you to the fundamentals of barrier work. Your job is to pay attention, take notes, and stay out of the way."

Sakura's heart sank as she realized she didn't have a notebook. She hadn't even known she was supposed to bring one, and Iwashi's sharp gaze made her feel like this was already some kind of test she was failing. Just as she was about to panic, Kakashi stepped forward, holding out a small, leather-bound notebook.

"Here, Sakura... You'll need this."

Relieved, Sakura took it, but her relief quickly turned to embarrassment as she noticed the cover. It was covered in tiny, doodled chibi Sasukes, all in different dramatic poses, with little hearts floating around them. Her face went bright red as she looked up to see Kakashi, Genma, and Raido barely containing their laughter.

She shot Kakashi a look, her blush deepening. I'll get back at you for this, Sensei. Shanaro! Inner Sakura fumed.

"You are a grown man, Kakashi-sensei," she muttered, clutching the notebook to her chest.

Genma snorted, nearly doubling over with laughter. Raido was shaking with silent laughter, trying to keep a straight face but clearly failing. Kakashi just shrugged innocently.

"It's important to have a personal touch, Sakura."

Suddenly, Kakashi gave her a gentle nudge, inclining his head toward Iwashi, who was glancing down at his watch with an air of practiced patience, as if he lived every moment according to a strict schedule.

Sakura quickly straightened, the last of her embarrassment fading as she focused on Iwashi, who finally looked up, his expression calm and collected.

"Any questions you have, write them down in that notebook. You can ask them at lunch. I'll also be giving you daily tasks. Small assignments to practice what you learn here. You'll be judged on consistency and attention to detail. If you can't keep up…" He paused. "Then don't waste my time."

"Understood, Iwashi-sensei."

Iwashi's expression remained neutral. "Good. Then let's get started."

"Better not dawdle. He's not exactly the patient type."

She hurried after Iwashi, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands as they wove through the winding corridors of the facility. Iwashi moved with purpose, never glancing back to see if she was keeping up. He pointed out various rooms and sections as they passed, his explanations clipped and efficient.

Sakura had a hundred questions swirling in her mind, but she kept them to herself, jotting them down in her notebook as they continued through the Barrier Corps HQ. To her surprise, though, Iwashi led her out of the building entirely and toward Konoha's southern gate.

The southern wall loomed above them, stretching as far as she could see, crafted from dense, sturdy wood. This wasn't ordinary lumber—it was said to be grown by the First Hokage himself, Hashirama Senju, using his Wood Release. The wall extended all around the village, up to the base of the Hokage Mountain, where it anchored Konoha's outermost defenses.

Without a word, Iwashi began scaling the wall, his chakra perfectly controlled as he walked up the vertical surface as if it were second nature. Sakura followed quickly, focusing to keep her own chakra flow steady as they climbed.

Once they reached the top, Iwashi stopped and knelt down, pulling a small pot of ink and a fine calligraphy brush from his tool pouch. Without any wasted movement, he dipped the brush in ink and began renewing a long, intricate strip of sealing script that ran the length of the wall. His strokes were precise, each one flowing smoothly into the next, as he moved down the ten-meter section with practiced ease.

Sakura watched, mesmerized. There was a calm efficiency in the way he worked, almost meditative. His brush barely hesitated, gliding across the surface in a steady, fluid rhythm. She could feel the faint pulse of chakra weaving into the symbols as he painted.

Once the seal was restored, Iwashi moved through a series of hand signs. He clapped his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart, drawing out delicate blue threads of chakra. Sakura gasped as the threads wove together, twisting and interlocking like fibers forming a cloth. They shimmered in the morning sunlight, forming a complex lattice that hardened into a barrier. Iwashi placed it carefully above the seal he'd just painted, and the barrier settled with a soft glow, integrating seamlessly into the invisible dome surrounding Konoha.

"Wow…" Sakura whispered, staring as the barrier faded into transparency, becoming part of the larger protective field.

Iwashi didn't respond, already moving to the next section. For the next few hours, he repeated the process over and over—renewing the seals, weaving the barrier threads, then moving to the next stretch of wall. Sakura followed along, observing him in silence, marveling at his endurance and precision. He worked tirelessly, barely pausing to breathe, until at last he stopped for lunch, sitting down on the edge of the wall and pulling out a simple bento box.

Sakura hesitated before sitting beside him, her notebook in hand. She glanced at him nervously, not wanting to disturb his rest.

"Questions?" Iwashi said, without looking up.

"Well… aren't you tired, sensei? You've been working non-stop for hours. I mean… doesn't this drain a lot of chakra?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Irrelevant. Either ask your questions now or eat your lunch. I gave you the time; use it."

Sakura bit her tongue, feeling a bit stung. She'd only wanted to show some concern. Fine, Inner Sakura said. If he wants questions, I'll give him questions.

"Alright then," she said. "Why is it called 'barrier ninjutsu' when you're using so much… well, fuinjutsu?"

Iwashi nodded, as if he'd expected this question. "There are two types of barrier techniques: Offensive and Defensive. Offensive barriers are often pure ninjutsu—used in combat to trap or attack enemies, usually temporary and chakra-intensive. Defensive barriers, on the other hand, rely heavily on fuinjutsu and are designed to be stable, long-lasting. Because of that, barrier work is usually categorized under ninjutsu."

Sakura's brow furrowed. "So… what's the formal name?"

"Kekkai Jutsu," he replied, his tone patient but precise. "It's split into two main types, offensive and defensive. The distinction is largely for the archives. Out in the field, people just call it 'barrier ninjutsu.'"

She nodded, jotting that down, but another question popped up immediately. "Why do we use fuinjutsu for defensive barriers? Isn't fuinjutsu… complicated? I thought it was one of the hardest paths a shinobi could take."

Iwashi raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching slightly at the corner, like he almost wanted to smile. "Two questions at once. But I'll allow it. First, we use fuinjutsu because, unlike pure ninjutsu, a properly crafted seal can maintain a barrier long after we've left. If I tried to sustain this barrier with my own chakra alone, I'd collapse in less than an hour. The seal sustains it for us. Think of it as anchoring the barrier to the wall, rather than to my own chakra reserves."

Sakura scribbled furiously. "So… how often do you have to renew them?"

"Every twelve hours," he replied. "There's an entire branch dedicated to maintaining and replacing these seals around the village. It's constant work. Like sweeping the floors—if you miss even one section, you create a weak spot."

Sakura absorbed this, thinking of the endless dedication it must take to keep the entire village's defenses in place. "And… what about the fuinjutsu?"

"Fuinjutsu is complicated if you're trying to create new seals. Crafting a seal from scratch—designing it, testing it, ensuring it functions without backfiring—that's an art. And yes, it's one of the hardest arts a shinobi can pursue. But here, we're not creating new fuinjutsu. We're following a blueprint. Every single seal I've painted today was designed by the Second Hokage himself. A masterpiece of efficiency."

He gestured to the faintly glowing strip he'd just completed. "All we do is replicate it. Copy and maintain. We're not trying to match the genius of Tobirama Senju. We're just preserving his work. So for defensive barriers, it's about precision and memorization, not innovation."

"So… I'm learning defensive barriers?"

Iwashi nodded.

"What if I wanted to learn offensive barriers?"

"Offensive barriers? That's a different story. Those are jutsu meant for the battlefield—traps, containment fields, techniques to lock down or even crush enemies. They're volatile, require immense chakra, and a much deeper understanding of elemental ninjutsu. To even begin learning them, you'd need to be at the level of a Tokubetsu Jōnin."

Sakura's eyes widened.

"Focus on the basics, on the defensive side, and perhaps… one day."

Sakura nodded, feeling both humbled and motivated.

"Honestly, I think I need to digest everything I've learned today. Maybe I'll ask more questions tomorrow. For now… what's my assignment?"

Iwashi gave a small, approving nod. "Good. Knowing when to absorb information is just as important as knowing when to seek it." He held up his hand, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. "Your first task is simple, but foundational. You need to learn how to create a single chakra thread."

Without responding directly, Iwashi brought his hand to his mouth, wetting his thumb and forefinger. Then he pressed his fingers together, drawing them apart slowly. A thin line of mucus stretched between them, glistening in the sunlight. He looked at her and gave a tiny smirk.

Sakura's lips pursed in disgust.

Iwashi chuckled, amused by her reaction. "Look closer, Haruno. Think of this like the structure of a chakra thread. Just like how the mucus is connecting my fingers, a chakra thread is formed by focusing and stretching your chakra into a thin, cohesive line. The key is in control—keeping it steady and connected, even as you move."

She looked at his fingers again, this time with more focus, trying to see past the unpleasantness. "So… tension?"

"Precisely. You're creating a link between two points and holding it together, just like this line of mucus. But with chakra, it's a lot harder. If your control slips, the thread will break or dissipate. You need to keep it focused and stable, but also flexible, so it doesn't snap. The thread should feel almost… sticky. Cohesive. Like it wants to cling to itself."

"So… that's how you do it."

Iwashi's eyebrow arched. "What do you mean?"

Without hesitation, Sakura pressed her palms together, focusing her chakra between them. She took a deep breath, then slowly pulled her hands apart. A single, faint blue thread of chakra stretched between her fingers, shimmering softly in the light.

Iwashi's eyes widened slightly, and he just stared, speechless for a moment.

"How…?"

"Well, I've been watching you all morning, trying to understand how you were creating those chakra threads for the barrier. I kept going over it in my head, breaking down each step. Your explanation with the… um… mucus analogy helped me see what I was missing. I wasn't applying enough tension, or keeping the flow steady."

Iwashi blinked, then let out a quiet chuckle. "You're a quick study, Haruno." His expression softened. "I wasn't expecting you to pick it up that fast. You have a bright future ahead of you."

"Thank you, sensei. I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

Iwashi nodded. "Nothing more I can ask. But since you've already completed the first assignment… let's move on to the next."

"I'm ready. What's next?"

----------------------------------------

Sasuke lay in bed, his body restless even though he'd slept longer than he ever had. Every part of him felt tense, ready to leap into action, to throw a punch or focus his chakra. But there was nothing for him to do. Just a full week of rest, as if rest was what he needed. As if he could just switch off this burning need to move, to train, to chase down the shadows of his nightmares.

Withdrawal. That's what it felt like. His body, his mind—they were screaming for him to get up and train.

He dropped to the floor, his arms already braced for push-ups, when Kakashi's voice echoed in his mind like a taunt: Rest. The word was a curse, a binding chain, and it took everything in him to push himself back up, seething.

How could he rest when Itachi was out there, when his enemy was getting stronger with every passing second?

Sasuke sat up with a scowl, pushing the blanket away. His room felt stifling, almost like a cage. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the plain walls, the small table with its scattered books, the bed he'd lain in for far too long. His eyes drifted to the cabinet in the corner, and then to the old gramophone sitting on top of it. He hadn't touched it in years. It had been a gift from his mother, something she'd brought back from the Land of Snow.

He stood up and walked over to it, his hand brushing against the dusty surface. His mother had loved this gramophone. He could still remember her laughter as she'd explained how it worked, how she'd insisted on playing her favorite songs for him, her face lighting up like she'd found a treasure. She used to play music when the house was quiet, just the two of them. She'd put on one of her upbeat records and take his hands, guiding him in a clumsy dance around the room, her voice soft and gentle as she laughed at his stumbling steps.

Sasuke swallowed, his throat tight. He didn't have many memories like that, not with her, not with any of them. Just fragments, bits and pieces he clung to because they were all he had left. And yet, here it was, something she'd left behind, something he'd barely looked at since that night.

On a whim, he lifted the gramophone's lid and searched for a record. His fingers brushed over a familiar one, the label worn from use. He could almost hear her voice saying, This one's my favorite, Sasuke.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he placed the record on the turntable, set the needle, and stepped back as the music crackled to life. The song was bright, cheerful—a melody that seemed to fill the whole room, lifting the heaviness that had settled over him.

Without thinking, Sasuke took a step, then another, letting his body sway to the music. His movements were stiff at first, awkward, like he was forgetting how to dance, how to let go. But as the melody continued, his feet found their rhythm, and he began to move like he had all those years ago, the way his mother had taught him. His arms stretched out, reaching for hands that weren't there, and he could almost imagine her beside him, guiding him, laughing as they spun together.

For a few precious moments, he wasn't alone.

He could almost smell her lavender perfume, feel the light touch of her fingers as they brushed against his cheek. His mother's hands had always been warm, guiding him gently, like he was something precious. He could still hear her laughter, soft and bubbling as she twirled him around, her face full of a joy he hadn't seen in anyone else since. Her voice echoed faintly in his memory: Sasuke, you'll grow up to be someone amazing. I just know it.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him, letting himself fall into the past. He was a child again, clumsy and carefree, held safe by someone who loved him more than anything in the world.

The song played on, filling the empty spaces in his heart, stirring memories he'd buried deep. For the first time in years, he let himself feel something other than anger. He let himself remember what it had been like before everything fell apart.

As the final notes faded, silence poured back into the room like cold water, flooding every corner, settling like a weight on his shoulders. It was a silence so thick, it felt like he could choke on it. The music had left a ringing in his ears, a phantom echo of the warmth and joy he'd felt so briefly, like a sliver of sunlight slipping behind storm clouds.

He was alone.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the memory.

The blood on the tatami floor. The lifeless look in Itachi's eyes as he stood over their bodies, his face a mask of indifference. Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it was there, burned into his mind, as much a part of him as his own name. He could hear the echo of his taunting words.

"You're weak. Why are you so weak? Because you lack… hatred. Hate me. Detest me. Run. Run and cling to your pitiful life. And one day, when you possess the same eyes as I do… come and find me."

Anger, grief, longing—it all bled together, filling him with a pain that had nowhere to go. He felt like he was drowning in it, like he was still that scared little boy watching his world burn around him.

Before he could stop himself, his fist collided with the wall beside him. He wanted to tear that gramophone apart, to throw it against the wall until it shattered. How dare it bring back those memories, tease him with a warmth that was gone forever? How dare it make him remember?

A single tear slipped down Sasuke's cheek before he could stop it. He wiped it away quickly, almost angrily, hating the weakness it exposed. But the ache in his chest didn't go anywhere. It just sank deeper, a weight he couldn't shake—a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

This is just another test, he told himself bitterly. Kakashi has the Mangekyo Sharingan… he knows what it takes. Rest wasn't some kind of reward. It was a trial, a different kind of challenge, like enduring a brutal training session. Kakashi wanted him to feel this—to sit in the silence, to confront the emptiness instead of running from it.

But knowing that didn't make it easier.

It felt like punishment, worse than any physical training, harsher than any sparring match. Because resting meant facing the silence, facing the hollow ache that wouldn't go away. Resting meant accepting the truth: he was alone. The last of his family, his clan, his memories.

The lone avenger.

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The streets of Konoha bustled with the everyday noise of village life, filling the air with a mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional vendor hawking their wares. Sasuke walked through the paths, hands stuffed in his pockets, letting the noise wash over him. It wasn't the peace of solitude he usually craved, but after hours alone in his room, anything was better than that silence.

He paused at a food stand, his eyes drifting over trays of freshly made onigiri. The vendor greeted him with a friendly nod, and Sasuke handed over a few coins in exchange for a neatly wrapped rice ball. As he walked away, he took a bite, savoring the simple flavor.

A little further down the road, Sasuke spotted a group of kids playing a game of beigoma. They crouched in a tight circle around a small dirt arena, eyes glued to their spinning tops as they clashed, sparks and dust flying. Each hit sent gasps and cheers rippling through the group. One boy shouted with delight as his top knocked another clean out of the ring, his grin wide with victory.

There was a faint tug in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite place. The kids were so… carefree. Untouched by loss or vengeance. They could waste hours on a game without a care in the world, and he almost envied them for it.

He felt a presence behind him and, without looking, knew who it was.

"You know you can go join them."

"Hn," Sasuke muttered, shifting his gaze back to the game. He wasn't interested in playing with a bunch of kids, but the sight of those spinning tops and the happy, oblivious faces was strangely… calming. Like watching water flow down a quiet stream.

"Wow, didn't know you liked beigoma."

"I don't."

"Well, you're certainly staring hard enough. So… how's the resting going?"

"Hn." Sasuke's response was barely a sound. He could feel his frustration building, like a tightly wound coil that had nowhere to release.

Kakashi sighed theatrically. "I'm going to take that as a 'not well.'" He lowered his book just enough to meet Sasuke's glare. "Don't you have any hobbies?"

"Training. Eating. Sleeping," Sasuke replied curtly.

"Ah," Kakashi said, drawing the word out with mock wonder. "When did Guy's craziness infect my cute little genin?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Might Guy," Kakashi said, shaking his head with exaggerated lament. "All he does is train, eat, sleep, or show up to bother me with his ridiculous 'challenges.' I swear, it's like his entire life revolves around his training regimen. Hmm." He tilted his head, giving Sasuke a sidelong glance. "Sound familiar?"

Sasuke's jaw clenched. "His student was fast," he muttered, voice low. He didn't need to explain more—Kakashi would understand. The memory of Lee's speed, the way he'd been defeated in an instant, still stung.

Kakashi chuckled. "Ah, yes. Guy's speed…" He glanced away. "To tell you the truth, even my Sharingan can barely keep up with him."

"Are you… intentionally doing this?"

Kakashi looked back at him, the picture of innocence. "Doing what?"

"You know I want to train, and you keep talking about people I need to surpass."

"Is that really the lesson you're taking from all this?"

"What else am I supposed to take from it?" Sasuke shot back, feeling genuinely confused and a bit stung. He didn't understand what Kakashi was trying to prove, why he was throwing these little jabs at him.

"Even Guy," he said, his tone gentler, "takes time to rest and recover."

Sasuke huffed and looked away, refusing to acknowledge the point. Rest. As if that would bring him any closer to the power he needed. He watched as one of the kids' beigoma spun wildly out of the ring, scattering dust and pebbles. The game ended in laughter, their voices bright and unrestrained. That feeling tugged at him again, faint but persistent—a distant memory of what it was like to be carefree.

"Do you have… any ways I can pass the time?"

Kakashi's eye lit up as if he'd been waiting for that question. He slapped his forehead with a gasp, overacting just enough to be ridiculous.

"Ah, I knew I was forgetting something!" He hopped up from the bench, nudging Sasuke forward with his shoulder. "Come on, let's go, Mr. 'No Life.'"

Sasuke rolled his eyes, muttering a faint "Hn" as he let Kakashi steer him away from the park.

They walked through the village together, Kakashi making small talk about the villagers they passed, pointing out this or that shop as if they were on a tour. Sasuke mostly stayed quiet, but his mind wandered. He'd never really taken the time to just… look around Konoha like this. To him, it had always been a place of duty, of memories that were both bitter and sweet. But here, among the noisy vendors and the chatter of families, it felt different.

"Ever been to a sauna, Sasuke-kun?"

"No," Sasuke replied, eyeing the entrance.

"Oh, come on," Kakashi said, already guiding him inside. "A true shinobi knows the importance of relaxation. And it's tradition. Consider it part of your training."

They ended up sitting in the sauna, Kakashi leaning back with a satisfied sigh while Sasuke sat stiffly, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"You know," Kakashi said after a while, "the Third Hokage used to come here all the time."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Balance, Sasuke." Kakashi's voice softened. "Even the strongest shinobi understand the need for balance. The Third valued strength, but he also valued wisdom and rest. If you burn yourself out, you'll have nothing left to fight with."

Sasuke didn't respond, but he could feel those words settling uncomfortably in his mind. He shifted, feeling the heat press against his skin, the sweat gathering at his temples. Part of him wanted to argue, to brush Kakashi off, but another part of him—the part that was starting to feel the weight of his own exhaustion—listened.

After the sauna, they wandered down to a small bookstore nearby. Kakashi led him inside, the familiar smell of old paper and ink filling the air. Sasuke trailed after him, browsing with vague disinterest until he realized Kakashi had led him straight into the adult section, shelves stacked high with luridly titled novels. He gave his teacher a deadpan look.

"I am a child," he pointed out.

Kakashi considered this for a moment, hand to his chin.

"Technically you are a legal adult when you got that Hitai-ate."

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke made his way toward the counter, where a girl about his age was arranging a display of card games. "Hey! You look like you're looking for something interesting," she said cheerfully. "Have you ever played Ninja Karuta?"

"Ninja… Karuta?"

"Yep! It's a card game with famous shinobi from history." She flipped the box over, revealing rows of cards with small portraits and text. "It's kind of like a collectible game. You can learn about different ninjas and their achievements. It's fun! Plus, there are rare cards, too."

Sasuke looked at the game, hesitating. It wasn't what he'd call thrilling, but… it was something. And he had nothing else to do. With a sigh, he pulled out a few coins and handed them over.

"Good choice!" The girl beamed as she handed him the box. "Shuffle the cards before you play," she advised. "That way, you get a different experience each time."

Sasuke nodded, opening the box as he sat down on a bench to the side. He began shuffling the cards, the edges smooth against his fingers. Kakashi joined him, clutching a new orange book and glancing over with mild interest.

Sasuke drew his first card and turned it over. The card depicted a serious-looking man with short, spiky brown hair, two distinctive markings on his cheeks, and a calm, steady gaze. He wore a high-collared green jacket, his expression cool and composed.

"No way! You pulled an ultra-rare card!"

"Well, well. Sasuke Sarutobi."

"Sasuke Sarutobi…" The black haired boy muttered the name under his breath. His mother had named him after this legendary shinobi, a man he'd never bothered to learn about. The realization was unsettling, like a light breaking through the narrow tunnel he'd confined himself in, revealing a world he knew so little about.

Kakashi tilted his head, amused by Sasuke's reaction. "Sasuke Sarutobi. He was the father of the Third Hokage, a shinobi revered as the 'God of Ninjutsu' during the Warring States Era," he explained . "They say his fire style was so intense, his flames turned blue. One of the few to stand against Madara Uchiha on equal ground."

The girl at the counter was practically glowing with excitement, staring at the card in Sasuke's hand as though it were made of solid gold. Sasuke was stunned, his jaw slack as he processed Kakashi's words.

"They say that battle was what finally convinced the Sarutobi clan to join Konoha," Kakashi added.

To think, someone outside of the Senju could rival Madara himself, to fight him to a standstill… It shattered his assumptions about the world.

He felt an uncomfortable but intriguing shift within himself, a nagging feeling that maybe—just maybe—the Uchiha weren't the only pinnacle of strength he'd once thought of. His world had been small, closed off, but now it felt a little… bigger.

Sasuke absently flipped through the cards, his mind elsewhere. Most were common—names and images he barely registered—while the girl at the counter rambled on about rarities and collections. Then he froze.

The last card in his hand stopped him cold.

"Kakashi?"

The girl's eyes darted between the card and Kakashi himself, her mouth slightly open. "You're… the real deal," she said, awestruck. "The Copy Ninja, Kakashi Hatake!"

"Ah, well," Kakashi said, "I like to think of myself as more than just a card in a deck. But yes, that's me. Lucky pull, right?"

"I mean, there's a whole subset of cards for famous Konoha shinobi, but this one is practically legendary! Do you… I don't know… get royalties for this?"

"Sadly, no. But maybe I should negotiate—it might help fund a few more editions of my favorite books." He raised his ever-present orange novel with a playful wink, and the girl stifled a giggle.

"Don't encourage him."

"But he's a legend!" she insisted, grinning. "People come in here all the time hoping to pull the 'Copy Ninja' card. It's super rare."

Kakashi plucking a packet of cards from the shelf. "Well, let's see if my legendary streak holds up." He tore the wrapper open and sifted through the cards. His hand paused at one. His face flickered with curiosity, then softened into something almost wistful.

"Here, take a look."

Sasuke stared at the name on the card, the title hitting him like a punch:

Wicked Eyes Fugaku.

His chest tightened as he took the card. There, on the glossy surface, was his father. Fugaku Uchiha stood in his usual commanding stance, his stern gaze unyielding, as if staring straight into Sasuke's soul.

Sasuke's fingers trembled slightly as he held the card, his lips pressing into a thin line. Kakashi's voice cut through his haze.

"Want to trade?"

Sasuke nodded, unable to trust his voice. They swapped cards without another word. Kakashi chuckled softly, holding up the "Copy Ninja" card he'd just acquired. "Looks like I got a mini-me. But don't tell Guy about this, or he'll buy out the entire store just to find his own card."

Sasuke barely heard him. His attention was riveted on the card in his hand.

For all his father's power and presence, Sasuke had never truly felt close to him. Admiration had always been laced with fear, pride tangled with longing. Now, staring at the card, a strange and unfamiliar warmth bloomed in his chest.

Were you ever proud of me... dad?

He swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he let himself imagine his father's hand resting on his head, reassuring and steady.

Sasuke took a slow, shaky breath, willing himself back into composure. "Is… is that it?"

"That's up to you," Kakashi said. "But if you don't have anywhere better to be..."

The truth was, Sasuke didn't want this quiet, strange peace to end. "I've got nothing else going on," he muttered, though the words carried less indifference than he intended.

Kakashi ruffled Sasuke's hair without warning, earning a half-hearted scowl. "Come on, then. Let me show you how I waste my free time. You might even learn to relax."

"Hn," Sasuke grunted, but there was no edge to it.

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Naruto lay sprawled on a thick tree branch, one arm tucked behind his head while the other held a sticky chunk of honeycomb. The faint hum of bees buzzed around him, but he remained relaxed. This was, after all, Aburame clan territory, and as long as he wore his Konoha headband, the bees wouldn't attack. Their only interest in him was delivering the honey, which Naruto was more than happy to accept.

The branch beneath him groaned slightly under the combined weight of his body and armor, but he ignored it.

"You know that branch might not hold, right?"

Naruto glanced down to see Kakashi coming into the area.

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should've sent a clone to teach me sooner instead of showing up just in time to criticize," Naruto shot back.

"Looks like you've been practicing, though. At least you're not falling down anymore."

Naruto's grin widened, and he shifted slightly, his feet sticking to the branch with perfect chakra control. "Practicing? Please, I'm a natural. Watch this!"

With a cocky grin, Naruto shifted his weight and flipped himself upside down, sticking to the underside of the branch with precise chakra control like a bat hanging from a cave.

"Very impressive," Kakashi said dryly. "And totally unnecessary."

"Come on, sensei! Admit it—I'm getting better. Doesn't this kind of progress deserve a reward? Like, I don't know… a cool new jutsu?"

Kakashi tilted his head as if genuinely considering the idea, and Naruto's grin grew wider in anticipation.

"Nope," the white-haired man said flatly.

"Man, you're impossible! What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Keep climbing trees like a monkey?"

"Precisely. Chakra control isn't about flashy moves—it's about mastery. You've stuck to the tree—great. Now do it while running, carrying weights, or dodging attacks. Refine it."

Naruto groaned. "Fine, fine," he muttered, stomping over to the tree he'd climbed earlier. "But I swear, if I don't get something new soon, I'll—"

"Fall flat on your face if you don't pay attention," Kakashi cut in smoothly. "Naruto, there's no shortcut here. Get your basics solid, and the rest will follow. You're doing well. Don't rush it."

Naruto groaned again but scaled the tree with renewed determination. Reaching the hive, he carefully extracted another piece of honeycomb and made his way back down. This time, he landed lightly, holding the honey aloft like a trophy.

"Mission complete, sensei!"

Kakashi clapped once. "Well done. See? Hard work pays off."

"Yeah, yeah," Naruto muttered. "But seriously, sensei, isn't there something else I can work on? My clones are already hammering out all the boring stuff."

"Like what?"

Naruto scratched his nonexistent beard. "Well… maybe my taijutsu? I've been practicing the katas like crazy, but it feels like I'm just going through the motions. I want to do something cooler, you know?"

"The katas are your foundation, Naruto. Without them, everything else falls apart. But you're right—there's always more. What exactly are you looking to build on?"

Naruto's eyes lit up. "Something badass! Like combining taijutsu with my sword, or—"

"Kenjutsu," Kakashi interjected smoothly. "If you're serious about your sword, that's the logical next step."

Naruto practically bounced on his feet. "Yes! That's exactly what I'm talking about! So, when do we start?"

"Unfortunately, I can't help you much with kenjutsu."

"What? Why not? You're, like, a super ninja who knows everything!"

Kakashi's smile turned sheepish. "Flattering, but your weapon is… unique. It's not the kind of sword most shinobi use, and I've never trained with anything like it. Teaching you properly would require someone with specific expertise."

Naruto frowned. "So, what am I supposed to do? Just figure it out on my own?"

"I think I know someone who can help you," Kakashi said. "Give me a few minutes."

Naruto tilted his head. "Wait, you do? Who is it?"

Kakashi didn't answer. Instead, he gave a lazy wave and disappeared in a swirl of leaves, leaving Naruto to mutter, "Could've at least given me a hint, lazy sensei…"

A few minutes later, Kakashi returned with a familiar figure beside him.

"Tenten?" Naruto blinked, confused. "Kakashi… why is she here?"

"Aww, didn't you miss me, Naruto?"

Naruto flailed his arms, already flustered. "No! I mean, yes—I mean—"

Seeing the younger boy flustered, Tenten giggled and lightly booped his nose. "Relax, I'm just joking with you."

Naruto sighed in relief, but before he could recover, Tenten added with a sly grin, "Though, if you want to make it up to me, you could let me try on that armor and swing around that big sword of yours."

"No!"

Kakashi interjected. "Naruto, I brought Tenten because she can help you with your kenjutsu."

"No offense, but why her?"

Tenten raised an eyebrow. "Because I specialize in weapons—every kind. Blades, staffs, projectiles, you name it. If anyone can help you figure out that massive sword of yours, it's me."

"But you've never used a sword like this before, have you?"

"No," Tenten admitted, "but that doesn't mean I can't help. Your sword reminds me of the Kubikiribōchō from the Mist Village. And kenjutsu isn't just about swinging a blade around. I can help you figure that out—and maybe even teach you how to defend against other weapons while we're at it."

Naruto hummed thoughtfully.

"Well," Kakashi said, "I think you're in good hands, Naruto."

"Where are you going?"

"To read."

"You're a clone?"

"Oh yeah," Kakashi said flatly. "And I'm going to make the most of my fleeting existence by catching up on my book." He vanished with a flicker.

Naruto sighed and turned to Tenten. "So, what do we do first, uh… Tenten-senpai?"

"Why don't you let me check out the weapon first?" Tenten said.

Naruto grinned and tossed the massive Zweihander to her.

The moment it landed in her hands, her knees buckled, and she hit the ground with a startled yelp. Struggling to lift it, she shot Naruto an incredulous look. "Why the hell is this sword so heavy?!"

Naruto purred. "Guess you can't handle my sword, Tenten."

"Shut up and help me!"