The night stretched long and silent as Shorai worked tirelessly, guided by the steady pulse of the Reality Stone's energy. The knowledge it imparted was precise and unyielding. With focused determination, he summoned a shadow clone—an echo of himself born from the stone's power. Together, they began the painstaking process of crafting a complex formation: four separate triple-layered seals, each designed to guard against the mysterious force that had threatened him.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. The formation demanded precision and endurance, the night blurring into a dance of glowing seals and whispered incantations. When the work was done, Shorai carefully placed two of the seals on the backs of his handguards, the other two hidden on the inner side of his clothes. The patterns were subtle, meant to be concealed from prying eyes and questions.
Exhausted beyond measure, Shorai deactivated the Reality Stone. The combined toll of the ANBU trial and the forceful summoning of the shadow clone crashed over him like a tidal wave. Darkness claimed him just as dawn's first light crept over the horizon.
Shorai's eyes fluttered open to sterile white and the faint sting of antiseptic in the air.
For a second, his mind lagged behind his senses. The ceiling was unfamiliar. The sheets were too clean. His body felt heavy, not with injury exactly, but with the deep, hollow ache of total depletion.
Two figures sat in silence near his bed.
Cat and Boar.
Their masks were on, but their posture said enough. They had been waiting.
Cat noticed his breathing change first. She leaned forward slightly, purple hair slipping over one shoulder. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft in a way few people ever heard.
Shorai swallowed. His throat was dry. "Where am I?"
"The hospital," Cat replied.
Before she could continue, Shorai asked, "What time is it?"
Cat glanced at the wall clock. "A little after four in the morning."
With her help, Shorai pushed himself upright. His arms trembled faintly from the effort. A moment later the door slid open, and Eagle stepped inside. Even behind the mask, relief was visible in the ease of his shoulders.
"You're awake," Eagle said. "Good."
Boar crossed his arms. "You dropped hard."
Eagle moved closer to the bed, voice steady and clinical. "Forced chakra exhaustion. Severe stamina collapse after that. Your body shut down before it could suffer worse damage."
Shorai lowered his eyes for a moment, then said, "I trained with a shadow clone."
Silence.
Not shocked silence. Not angry silence.
The kind that came when everyone in the room already understood the weight of what had been admitted.
"And," Shorai added quietly, "there was an unexpected loss of chakra."
Boar let out a rough breath through his nose. "That jutsu is forbidden for a reason, kid."
Cat's tone remained even, but there was strain beneath it. "You pushed far past safe limits."
Shorai looked between them. "Are you disappointed in me?" His voice was calm, but the question hung heavier than he intended. "I missed the set time by almost a full day."
Cat's eyes softened behind the mask. "No."
Eagle shook his head. "Taking care of yourself comes first. Limits exist whether we respect them or not. At least now you understand yours more clearly."
Boar grunted. "Better to learn this in a bed than in a kill zone."
That almost made Shorai smile.
Almost.
He studied them instead. Cat had likely found him. Boar was irritated in the way only someone worried could be irritated. Eagle, as always, was measuring consequences. None of them were acting quite normally.
That confirmed it.
Something had happened.
Cat folded her hands in her lap. "I went to your training ground first. You weren't there. Later I checked your room and found you on the floor. You wouldn't wake up."
Shorai's gaze sharpened. "Did any of you feel anything strange yesterday?"
No one answered immediately.
He continued, more quietly, "Any shift. Any moment that felt… wrong. Something beyond chakra."
Boar shifted his weight. Cat turned her head slightly toward Eagle. The pause itself was an answer.
Cat asked, "What do you mean?"
Shorai held her gaze. "I mean if there's something you're not telling me, and if that secrecy lines up with my collapse, then I need to know."
Boar's jaw tightened beneath the mask. "You mean the incident with the Scroll—"
"Boar." Eagle's voice cut through the room, sharp and final. "No."
The room cooled.
Eagle looked back at Shorai. "That matter is classified."
Cat nodded once, though she sounded less rigid than Eagle. "There was a theft. High-level secrecy is in effect. We cannot discuss it here."
Shorai frowned. "Here?"
No one answered that either.
He let the silence breathe, then leaned back against the pillow. "I see. Then I'll figure it out on my own."
Boar muttered, "That's what worries me."
Cat shot him a look.
For a moment, Shorai almost laughed. Instead, he studied them more carefully. These were elite shinobi. Killers, trackers, specialists. Yet all three were uneasy in a way that had little to do with him overusing a technique.
Interesting.
Then Cat rose and stepped closer to the bed. Her gloved hand adjusted the blanket at his shoulder with a brief, practical motion that somehow felt more maternal than medical. "You do not always need to solve everything alone, Shorai."
The words made him pause.
Eagle added, quieter now, "You're under our watch for a reason. Don't mistake secrecy for abandonment."
Boar looked away as if annoyed by the sentiment, then said, "If you're going to do reckless things, at least stay alive long enough for us to yell at you after."
That one did draw a faint smile from Shorai.
A small knock came at the door before a medical team entered. The ANBU stepped back, conversation ending without truly ending. Shorai was checked over, questioned, scanned, and advised to rest.
Before leaving, Eagle stopped at the doorway. "Recover first. We'll visit later."
Cat gave him one last look, the kind that said be careful without using the words.
Boar simply grunted and followed the others out.
The room fell quiet.
Alone, Shorai closed his eyes and reached inward.
The Reality Stone stirred.
He activated it slowly, carefully, feeling its power flood his awareness in crimson threads. First his own mind. Intact. No fractures. No foreign hooks. Then the seals. All four remained in place, dormant but ready.
Good.
He expanded his senses into the village.
Naruto slept soundly, sprawled without elegance, his dreams tangled with excitement and nerves for tomorrow's survival training. Team assignments had already begun to settle around him like threads of fate. Kakashi. Sakura. Sasuke.
And there it was.
The imprint.
Still there.
Stronger on Naruto than on anyone else.
Shorai drifted farther, his consciousness brushing over rooftops, homes, streets, sleeping civilians, shinobi on patrol. Everyone carried traces of that strange energy. Tiny portions. Subtle. Quiet. Real. Naruto's was larger, more concentrated, and yet no obvious behavioral shift followed from it.
Why him?
Kyubi? Asura's reincarnation? Destiny? Targeted compatibility?
No answer surfaced.
"At least I'm safe," Shorai murmured to himself. "For now."
The relief was thin.
He slept again, and this time the sleep was heavier, duller, without dreams.
When he next woke, sunlight had shifted. The room was brighter, louder. Voices filled the space before his eyes fully opened.
"Shorai! What happened to you?"
Naruto.
Immediate. Loud. Unfiltered concern.
Shorai turned his head and found Naruto at his bedside, fists clenched, blue eyes wide with worry. Ino and Sakura stood nearby, both visibly tense. Sasuke lingered closer to the door, arms folded, his expression unreadable except for the faint crease between his brows.
"Shorai-kun," Ino said, stepping forward first. "Are you alright?"
Sakura nodded quickly. "You disappeared, and nobody told us anything. We heard you were in the hospital."
A medical ninja nearby checked his pulse and chakra levels, then gave the group a reassuring nod. "He's stable. He'll be discharged soon, assuming he rests and doesn't do anything foolish."
Naruto opened his mouth immediately.
Shorai said, deadpan, "I won't."
The medic gave him a look that suggested she did not believe him in the slightest, then left.
That broke some of the tension.
Naruto leaned closer. "Seriously, what happened? Were you attacked? Was it some secret mission? Did you fight someone super strong?"
"Overboard training," Shorai said.
Naruto stared.
"That's it?" Sakura asked.
"Mostly."
Ino crossed her arms, though the worry in her face softened. "You say that like collapsing for a whole day is normal."
"For him, maybe," Sasuke muttered from the doorway.
All eyes shifted to him.
He didn't move. "You disappear, come back in a hospital bed, and call it training. Idiotic."
The insult lacked heat.
Shorai met his eyes and caught what Sasuke would never say directly: You pushed too far.
Shorai smiled faintly. "Concern doesn't suit you, Sasuke."
Sasuke clicked his tongue and looked away. "Don't flatter yourself."
Naruto pointed between them. "See? Even bastard-teme was worried!"
"I was not," Sasuke snapped.
Sakura, predictably, turned toward Sasuke. "Sasuke-kun—"
Ino cut in before the spiral could begin. "Anyway," she said with suspicious sweetness, "some of us were worried enough to come immediately."
Her eyes flicked toward Shorai, and for a brief moment her bravado slipped. Genuine relief sat there, plain as day.
Shorai noticed.
He also noticed Naruto still watching him too closely.
So he shifted the focus.
"You all had class yesterday," he said. "How did it go?"
That was enough to get Naruto going.
Naruto launched into an excited retelling of everything at once—graduation, becoming an official ninja, the headband, his new team, and the survival test with their "super cool but weird and kinda scary" sensei. He gestured wildly through the whole story, nearly knocking over a cup of water in the process.
Shorai listened with a small smile, nodding at the right moments, asking short questions to keep Naruto talking. Outwardly, he looked relaxed.
Inwardly, he never stopped watching.
Every expression. Every pause. Every blink.
No obvious changes.
Sakura filled in the gaps Naruto trampled over, correcting details with exasperated precision. Ino added her own commentary, mostly when Naruto exaggerated beyond plausibility. Sasuke remained quiet until Shorai asked, "And your team?"
Sasuke answered in clipped form. "Operational."
Naruto burst out laughing. "He means Kakashi-sensei made us work together."
Sasuke said nothing, which in itself was a confirmation.
Shorai's gaze drifted briefly to Ino. She stood closer to his bed than the others, not enough to be obvious, but enough to matter. When their eyes met, her shoulders loosened slightly, as if his being awake had finally made the danger real and over.
Interesting.
Sakura noticed it too.
That made the air between the girls subtly tighter, though neither said anything.
Naruto, oblivious as ever, grinned. "You should've been there, Shorai. Once you're out, we should all do something!"
"A barbecue," Shorai said before he thought too much about it.
Naruto's eyes lit up instantly. "Yes!"
Ino smiled. "That actually sounds nice."
Sakura nodded. "As long as you're paying. Hospital recovery should count as special circumstances."
Shorai gave her a look. "You've recovered quickly from your concern."
Sakura huffed, but there was a smile hiding there. "If you're healthy enough to talk back, you're healthy enough to treat us."
Even Sasuke's expression shifted by a fraction.
The room settled into something almost ordinary after that—academy gossip bleeding into genin gossip, complaints about sensei, teasing, small arguments. For a little while, it felt like the world had narrowed back into something manageable.
Then the door opened again.
Iruka stepped inside.
The room straightened almost immediately.
His eyes moved over the students, then rested on Shorai with quiet relief. "Good. You're awake."
"Iruka-sensei," Shorai said.
Iruka gave the others a patient look. "Give us a few minutes."
Naruto groaned dramatically, but Ino nudged him toward the door. Sakura followed. Sasuke was last to move, pausing only long enough to glance once at Shorai before leaving without a word.
Shorai watched Naruto especially as he went.
Still no visible change.
Once the room was quiet again, Iruka pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. The sternness he wore for the others faded quickly.
"How are you really feeling?" he asked.
Not how are you doing.
Not are you alright.
How are you really feeling.
Shorai looked down at his hands. "Tired."
Iruka waited.
Shorai exhaled. "And annoyed."
That drew a small smile from Iruka. "That sounds more honest."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Shorai asked, "Naruto's headband. He got it from you?"
Iruka's expression softened in a way that answered before his words did. "Yes."
"A special circumstance."
"Yes."
Shorai nodded. "Then he earned it."
"He did," Iruka said quietly. "More than most people know."
The silence that followed was gentler.
Iruka studied him for a moment, then said, "You know, when I heard what happened, I wasn't only worried about your body."
Shorai glanced up.
Iruka continued, "You carry too much by yourself. You think carefully, act carefully, and you rarely ask for anything. That makes adults praise you." His voice lowered. "But it doesn't make it healthy."
Shorai looked away first.
If Cat had sounded protective, Iruka sounded something more dangerous.
He sounded right.
"There are things I can't talk about," Shorai said.
"I know."
"There are things I need to handle."
"I know that too."
Iruka leaned forward slightly, forearms on his knees. "But strength isn't just endurance. And it isn't silence." His eyes held steady. "The Will of Fire isn't about burning yourself away alone, Shorai. It's trusting that other people will carry part of the weight."
The words landed harder than they should have.
For one brief moment, Shorai felt the edges of his composure shift. Not break. Just soften.
He thought of the shockwave.
Of the possibility that a single unseen touch could hollow him out and leave something else wearing his face.
His voice came out quieter than intended. "What if I can't risk that?"
Iruka's gaze sharpened—not with suspicion, but with concern. "Then you choose carefully. But you still don't have to stand alone."
Shorai said nothing.
Iruka reached out and adjusted the edge of Shorai's blanket. "You're still a child," he said, not unkindly. "Even if you keep trying to negotiate with the world like an old man."
That did make Shorai smile.
Barely.
Iruka stood. "When you're discharged, the Hokage wants to see you. He said to remind you to continue your assigned mission."
So that was the official line.
Shorai inclined his head. "Understood."
Iruka paused at the door. "And Shorai?"
"Yes?"
"I'm proud of you." A beat. "But I'd be prouder if you learned when to stop before collapsing."
Then he left.
The medical staff returned not long after to finish the discharge process. By the time everything was settled, the afternoon had worn on toward four.
Outside the hospital, the light was warm and gold.
Naruto was waiting. Of course he was. Ino and Sakura were nearby, and Sasuke stood just far enough away to pretend he was not with them while very clearly being with them.
Shorai looked at the group, then at the village beyond them, full of unseen imprints and invisible dangers.
For a moment, he let himself have this.
"Barbecue," he said.
Naruto threw a fist into the air. "Yes!"
Sakura folded her arms. "Good. You're paying."
Ino smiled, her relief no longer hidden. "Then let's go before Naruto orders the whole menu."
"Hah?" Naruto protested. "Why would I do that?"
"Because you're you," Sasuke said flatly.
They started walking.
Shorai fell into step among them, outwardly calm, inwardly alert, his eyes drifting once—just once—to Naruto.
Still unchanged.
Good.
For now, that was enough, barbecue place awaited.
After all, he was starving.