And you'll meet,
when not expecting.
And find not where
you seek.
August 19, 1051.
"Something wrong, Naruto?" I peeled my back from the tree, rolled stiff shoulders, stood tossing empty bento box in backpack. Naruto, who'd been fidgeting by his favorite swing, jumped up facing me. Since enrollment, we got along great, chatting on breaks; he proudly told everyone I was his friend.
"Well, I, uh..." he scratched nape.
"Need help with homework?" I preempted; he nodded eagerly. "Let's see," I offered hand, took his notebook, sat back on branch; he settled beside. "I'll write answer on separate sheet—you copy later."
"Okay!"
I knew history better than Naruto. He found lectures boring—sitting still, taking picky notes: chatted with classmates, whispered; for homework, asked me, knowing I'd help. In turn, he helped with our language. I sorta knew kanji, but memorizing rules was pain. Guess linguistics incompatible in any world.
"Ow, Ariza-chan, your kanji order's wrong again," he pointed, explaining word sequence in sentences. Recently learned dad hires tutors, so he knows curriculum better. Mutual symbiosis.
"Thanks for always pointing out my mistakes," I thanked blond, thinking: "No emotions, but tired of board embarrassment. Class already jokes about me."
"Always glad, dattebayo! Black suits you too!" he noted my new outfit: dark practical tee, loose black capris cuffed mid-calf, same-color shoes. Only light things: elbow pads, shinobi pouch on thigh via white bandages.
"Didn't think you'd notice," I smiled. "Over past year, realized light clothes impractical: stains show right away."
Training tree- and water-walking ruined so many light things, buying never pays off. Started trees—took months; then water. First in tub, but slipped, hit head—three days splitting; realized outdoors better.
Found river—progress soared; with clones mastered first year, sped up.
Thought shadow cloning in month—wrong. Took half-year for brain to mix physical/spiritual chakra right.
Limit ten clones, but training leaped—year and half: mastered henge, illusion clones, substitution; better kunai/shuriken throwing; improved taijutsu; nearly rasengan, but can't form properly yet.
Didn't imagine chakra control so brutally hard. Studying rasengan deep in forest on clones to hide traces—year, still can't form fully; Uzumaki learned in week anime. Now mentally call Naruto genius.
Can't use rasengan in future fights—must base own technique on it: fire affinity. Showing rasengan raises questions from current Fourth Hokage; no torture wish. Once master rasengan—fireball.
"But might fail again, building castles in air."
"By the way, Ariza-chan, you tied pouch like all shinobi?" Uzumaki eyed thigh, banded on. Shinobi wear post-Academy.
"Yeah, Naruto."
Needed pouch for quick kunai draws. No kid size—bought adult, hand-stitched. Kids laughed—teased days, then stopped.
"Got kunai in there?!" he asked excitedly, blinking curious.
"Uh... no kunai," I said thoughtfully, opening empty pouch. Telling home stash unwise.
After cold weapon denial, tried post-enrollment; student pass surprisingly worked. Thought all "A" group get, but classmates said denied. In Konoha, only shinobi buy weapons.
Privileges didn't end. Meeting other orphans from orphanage now in Academy, learned my allowance double—unknown why. Lately suspect not random; elite class insufficient.
"Free cheese only in mousetrap. Not from love they give 'perks.' Hidden meaning; planner'll demand payback eventually. Hope not Root. Shitty—like loan on me, paying interest."
"Ariza-chan, c'mon, rain starting!" Naruto's voice; strong wind blew hair off shoulders. Looked up—drizzling. Last week nasty weather; today no different.
Bell rang, snapping me from thoughts.
"Uh-huh," handed detailed answer sheet, hurried to classroom shielding head from icy drops.
Entered class—Sasuke fan club bothering him again. Logically, I'd join; when forming, I entered to blend with girls.
Minimal hassle. Occasionally approach Sasuke, invite walk or sit nearby. Always full ignore; I'd leave gracefully, leaving proud prince alone.
Plans canceled—eyes caught new face: sullen curly jet-black-haired boy by window in dark clothes. Hunched, hands pocketed, staring floor; classmates Shikamaru, Choji, Kiba nearby talking, ignored. Thought "New kid, so what?" go find seat—but he lifted graphite eyes, stared intently. Heart skipped; first in years, something stirred inside. Nostalgic wave hit soul, vanished. I interested-look, but red-haired boy approached. Exchanged phrases, went auditorium depths. Noted Uchiha crest on tee.
"What? Uchiha?" mildly surprised; three weeks ago clan tragedy. Papers screamed madman slaughtered all night, none spared. News: Sasuke family survived thanks genius big bro. Heard another peer survived— this Uchiha boy him.
Nearly whole clan fell, Sasuke dad badly wounded; Konoha police disbanded.
Convinced Minato alive meant nothing bad. They'd compromise, Uchiha happy future. Fate crueler—unknown higher hand correcting divergence.
"Glad"—Itachi stayed, uninvolved; Sasuke no motive leave for power/revenge. Works for me.
"Despite Minato alive—massacre happened; clan hindered someone. Danzou?"
"Stop fooling! Bell rang! Seats!" sensei Iruka ordered behind. Shuffling, running, fighting seats; I waited silently. "Ariza-chan," softened, hand on shoulder: "Sit," nodded kindly smiling. Smiled back, scanned—spot by Shikamaru/Ino. Nara good acquaintance, often sat; headed there.
"No room for tomatoes!" Yamanaka protested; half-class laughed.
Next free desk—chased off:
"Don't sit with girls, scram!"
No reply, eyed Hinata. Often sat together; post-Academy walked home—her clan near dorm, same direction. Calm, shy, sweet girl.
Her spots taken; scanned—last free by newbies. Indifferent who, went.
"May I?" Boy with striking red hair middle eyed appraisingly, nodded, turned to Uchiha.
Pulled book/notebooks from backpack, sat leisurely, reviewing last paragraph. All free time training/studying. Schedule packed. No play, no playgrounds—even cooking clones. Yet taijutsu lagged clan boys.
Strong/endurant, but they experienced—parents train, big plus; books don't teach exact execution.
If I had emotions, I probably would have been terribly upset, because with the help of clones, I train several times more than everyone else. After the Academy, the kids go hang out with friends, while I head to the training ground, where with five clones I practice until sunset. Sometimes it seemed unfair to me, as if they had a talent for it, while I was deprived of it.
"Good thing at least theory comes easily to me, except for linguistics, of course."
Someone's gaze pulled me out of my thoughts, and turning around, I saw Sakura and Sasuke behind me at their desks. Neither of them was even looking my way, so I decided it was my imagination and turned back.
"Class, attention, we have new students!" the sensei announced loudly, and I looked up. "Jiro, Makoto, come on out," Iruka called them, and the boys, rising from their seats, headed toward him. "As you've already noticed, we have new students. They used to study in class 'B', but due to good grades, they were transferred to us. Guys, do you want to tell us something about yourselves?" Umino asked, but the boys shook their heads. "Alright, then take your seats," he said, then sneezed and continued: "I checked your work, what can I say... Sasuke, Sakura, as always, you wrote the best."
"And me?! And me?!" Naruto shouted across the classroom.
"And you have a retake waiting! And sit properly already!" Iruka demanded loudly.
"Come on, Iruka-sensei!" Uzumaki whined offendedly. "That's not fair!"
"Do you have any objections?!"
Once their argument ended, they started drilling the local mentality into us again: you can't kill your own—that's considered betrayal, but killing enemies is allowed and even necessary—without hesitation or regret. They've been teaching us this from the very first day, and everyone believes it unquestioningly.
I, while pretending to agree, secretly decided to partly preserve my own worldview. Even in my previous life, all my friends thought I was a crazy pacifist.
I felt sorry for animals: I even tried going vegetarian once because of it, until anemia problems started.[Anemia is a decrease in hemoglobin content and/or a reduction in the number of erythrocytes per unit volume of blood, leading to reduced oxygen supply to tissues. A common cause is iron deficiency. Iron is abundant in animal protein, so it's necessary to consume enough meat.]
I can't even imagine killing a person. From childhood, I was taught that every life is sacred. Even the life of a mayfly that hatches at noon and dies at sunset matters. And killing is taking everything from a person without giving them a chance to atone. Probably, over the years, I'll adapt to the local hired killer customs, but for now, it's hard.
"If I hadn't been raised by religious people, it would probably be easier for me," I mentally summed up, continuing to listen to the lecture.
And so the second week of the new semester ended.
After the Academy, I decided to stop home first: eat, change, and grab everything necessary. The apartment, as always, greeted me with deathly silence, broken only by the quiet ticking of the clock in the room.
I'd gotten used to it. Used to living alone and having no reproaches or instructions at home for another fifteen years. No one to care for me, no one to greet or see me off.
Right now, it didn't bother me, though sometimes—on late winter evenings or when it was too gray and slushy outside—I felt something scratching in my soul. As if loneliness and uselessness made themselves known and then vanished.
Yes, I had comrades, visited Naruto once, but it wasn't friendship.
Slipping off my backpack, I left a clone at home to do homework, quickly grabbed a bite, and headed to the training ground.
Arriving at the training spot, I started warming up with a run. After fifty laps, I did stretches and created seven clones. Four would drill techniques, combinations, and strikes until their chakra ran out. Once they dispersed, all their muscle memory would transfer to me.
The remaining two clones would practice throwing kunai and shuriken. I created them specifically before starting physical exercises. Because today's program: two hundred push-ups, squats, and crunches in five sets each, and pull-ups two sets of three hundred; between sets, a few minutes' rest and muscle stretches so they hurt less the next day; after physical exercises, jump rope—five thousand jumps, middle kick on a tree[Middle kick is a side kick to the mid-level.] and punching a log.
If I created clones to throw shuriken and kunai after all that, they'd be too tired to do it well. Of course, practicing bukijutsu isn't easy either, but the fatigue from it is nothing compared to physical exercises.
Then rest half an hour and refine the rasengan. Tomorrow's plan: throwing shuriken at moving targets and fuinjutsu training, and in parallel, search in Konoha for a Fire element master to beg at least one training session on developing that element. It was clear as day no one would teach for pretty eyes, so I'd saved up a certain sum so at least someone would train me for money.
Having thought it through, I didn't delay and started the exercises. I wanted to finish everything before the rain began.
After training about an hour and a half, I rested twenty minutes, dispersed the previous clones, and created six more doubles. Their goal—drill evasions: half would throw shuriken, the other half dodge them.
After checking the clones' training start, I was about to start pull-ups when I suddenly felt a piercing gaze. So probing and insistent, as if someone wanted to drill through the back of my head.
Stopping, I formed the confrontation seal. I wanted it to be paranoia nagging me, but no, it really was a person. A small chakra source was carefully hiding in the tree foliage behind me.
"I checked the clearing before training. Where'd he come from? Some civilian peeping? Surveillance? Some shinobi? Academy sensei? Or even ANBU?—assumptions chained in my head like dogs while I stood frozen. 'Judging by everything, this person, carefully hiding their chakra, has been here a while, or I'd have noticed.'"
All the clones I'd created froze, also noticing the surveillance. Training further under observation would be blatant carelessness. My sensor skills are still weak: a hundred-two hundred meters is my limit, and I can't distinguish chakra yet. Though you'd think—with all the effort I put in, all the trying—it's like putting ointment on a corpse. Professional sensors can detect lies, identify people by chakra; I can barely make out sources.
"Good thing I didn't start practicing Minato's technique, because while you can justify shadow clones, there's no excuse for rasengan," I decided and figured it best to leave the training ground. Have to find a new one.
I approached the tree where my backpack lay, slung it on, and dispersed all clones. I instantly felt queasy and dropped to my knees. Clutching the tree bark like a lifeline, I kept heaving. Normally I don't disperse them all at once, but the situation was extraordinary.
Breathing steadied after half a minute, and gathering strength, I stood using tree branches as handrails. After waiting out the dizziness, I drank from my canteen and shuffled toward the exit.
But they didn't let me go far. In an instant, my mysterious watcher landed in front of me.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan