17: Disciple and Sword – 3

Back inside, Shin noticed the four figures outside had disappeared.

“Ditched,” Shino said, very quietly, without looking up from his notebook.

Shin nodded.

“Sasuke Uchiha.”

Iruka’s voice cut across the room.

“Come up and demonstrate Clone Jutsu.”

Sasuke rose from his seat and walked to the front of the class without hurry. Iruka stepped aside. Sasuke said nothing — just brought his hands together into the cross seal.

Poof.

The smoke cleared. A second Sasuke stood beside him, solid and still, white vapor curling around its edges.

A wave of impressed murmuring moved through the desks.

“Good,” Iruka said, and he meant it.

Sasuke walked back to his seat in perfect silence, ignoring every set of eyes that tracked him.

Shin rested his chin on his hand and watched him pass. He leaned slightly toward Shino.

“Is Clone harder than Transformation?”

“Much harder,” Shino said. “I practiced for a long time before I had it. I’m still not consistent.”

“I see.”

He’s good at everything, Shin thought, without particular envy.

“Shin Takami.”

He stood.

Walking to the front, he passed Sasuke’s desk. Sasuke was already looking at him.

Shin raised an eyebrow. Your move.

“Tch.” Sasuke turned away.

The corner of Shin’s mouth curved. He kept walking.

Hey— he could feel Sasuke’s irritation behind him like a small sun. —he’s doing it on purpose—

Shin stepped up to the board.

“Remember what I said?” Iruka asked.

“Yes.”

Iruka glanced at him. Shin didn’t have the Uchiha name, didn’t have the bloodline, didn’t have the years of private training. Iruka kept his voice easy. “Take your time. Don’t overthink it.”

Shin breathed in once.

Hands into the cross seal. Chakra moving through him, gathering at the surface—

“Ha.“

Poof.

The clone materialized. Same posture, same expression, same everything — just the faint remnant of white smoke drifting from its edges.

The class went loud.

“Whoa—”

“He did it—”

“That’s so cool—”

Iruka studied the clone carefully, in the way that teachers do when they’re seeing more than they’re saying. He could tell the control wasn’t quite Sasuke’s level. The chakra distribution was slightly uneven — nothing a layperson would notice, but there.

“Good work,” he said. “Keep practicing at home.”

Shin dismissed the clone and stepped down.

He passed Sasuke’s desk again.

He raised the same eyebrow.

Sasuke stared at him with an expression that communicated, wordlessly, several things at once — none of them appropriate for a classroom.

Shin smiled. Kept walking.

He— Sasuke’s hand had curled into a fist without him deciding to do that. He is definitely doing this on purpose.

“All right,” Iruka said. “Let’s move on. Ino—”

No response.

“Ino?”

Ino was looking out the window, somewhere else entirely.

“—Ino Yamanaka.“

“Ah—! Here!” She shot to her feet, found the entire class watching her, and felt her face warm. “Sorry.”

“Don’t zone out in class,” Iruka said, not unkindly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Come up and try Clone Jutsu.”

She walked to the front. Iruka asked if she’d been paying attention; she said yes, quickly, maybe too quickly. She formed the cross seal.

“Ha.“

The clone appeared. It looked exactly right — same posture, same hair, same face — except the expression was a little flat, the edges slightly soft, like something printed on paper that had gotten wet.

Iruka pressed his lips together. “That’ll do. Practice more. And stay focused.”

“Yes. Sorry.” She bowed, dismissed the clone, and went back to her seat.

“Now then—”

What’s going on with Ino? Shin thought, watching her sit down. She’d already turned back to the window.

“She’s been keeping to herself lately,” Shino said, barely above a murmur.

Shin glanced over. “I thought she had a lot of friends.”

“She did.”

“…”

He looked back at Ino’s seat. She was doing it again — chin lifted, eyes fixed on something outside that only she could see.

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Before Iruka could name the next student, he raised his voice toward the door.

“The four of you outside — come in and show me yours.”

Silence.

“Naruto Uzumaki. Kiba Inuzuka. Shikamaru Nara. Choji Akimichi. Get back in here right now.”

More silence.

Iruka stared at the empty hallway for a moment. Then he walked to the door, looked out, and found nothing.

His expression shifted.

“Those absolute little—“

---

The day had ended badly.

Ino walked home alone in the golden last light, head down, feet slow.

Her friends. She had fewer and fewer of them.

She knew why. It had started that day when she’d told Chizumi and Aoi what was in her heart — the honest, stupid, unguarded thing she’d said without thinking. Since then, the circle had been getting smaller.

She couldn’t blame them.

She’d done the same thing, hadn’t she? The moment she’d heard about Sakura, she’d felt it too — that tiny, poisonous shift.

Sakura had been nothing but kind to her since. Normal. Warm. Like nothing had changed.

And here I am.

“Ino.”

She stopped.

She hadn’t been expecting that voice.

She looked up. A girl was standing near the front of her house — just standing there, waiting, watching her come closer. The evening light was doing something to her pink hair, picking out the warm tones in it.

Ino stopped walking.

Sakura came toward her slowly.

“…Sakura,” Ino started, voice odd even to herself. She looks different today. Something is different.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long.” Sakura’s voice was lower than usual. A little rough at the edges.

“I’m sorry,” Ino said quietly.

Sakura was quiet for a moment.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Ino spread her hands. She made herself smile — the effortless kind, the kind she’d spent years perfecting. “No reason. Just felt like it.”

The distance between them felt enormous. Like standing on opposite sides of a wide, still river and trying to shout across.

“Then why,” Sakura said, and her voice was slow and deliberate, “did you lie to me.“

Ino’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

So that’s what this is.

The evening settled around them. The sun was at the horizon, and everything had gone the color of embers.

“Ino.”

Sakura wasn’t looking away. Her eyes were bright and glassy.

“Your hair,” she said softly. “It’s gotten so long.”

“…”

The wind moved through, pushing Sakura’s hair off her shoulders. In the space between gusts, Ino felt something small and ridiculous rise in her chest — the urge to laugh at herself.

Why do I even keep it long.

“Who knows,” Ino said, to no one in particular.

Sakura’s voice dropped even lower. “Ino.”

“…Yeah.”

“We’re friends, right.”

“…I guess we are.”

“Are we?” The film over Sakura’s eyes finally broke. One tear, then another. “I thought we were.”

“…”