One day, without realizing it, school had already ended. As promised, Maki had to head to her family's residence for training with her three grandfathers.
As usual, Naori approached her after class.
It looked like they were going home together—but their paths didn't align. The Uchiha compound was in the opposite direction of Maki's home.
Something felt off.
Maki noticed the gentle, composed expression on Naori's face… and then glanced behind her. Not far away stood a boy—Yashiro Uchiha. He looked like he wanted to walk over but hesitated, clearly intimidated.
The eighth-generation Uchiha, Maki thought, raising an eyebrow.
Today's little lady has some real tricks up her sleeve.
"Wanna walk home together?" Naori asked.
"It's not my route," Maki replied curtly.
She wasn't interested in becoming so close that they'd start holding hands to the bathroom like some schoolgirls did.
"Fair enough," Naori said with a smile.
"You're creepy when you smile like that," Maki muttered. "Do what you want."
There wasn't much to pack—her books were already on the desk—so she stood up and left.
Naori followed naturally, and the two walked out of the academy together, leaving Yashiro behind.
There was no need to look back. Maki could practically feel the boy watching her.
Not like a rival, she thought. More like a puppy in love. Pathetic.
She didn't say much on the way, and Naori stayed quiet too—until they were a few streets away and Yashiro had finally stopped trailing them.
"Yashiro's not a bad guy," Naori said eventually. "But he's been getting on my nerves lately."
"Mm. That's fair," Maki replied. "His biggest flaw is that he's ugly."
"I don't like him. He's too childish. Too naïve," Naori sighed. "I hope he gives up on his own. I'll be counting on you for that, Maki."
"You don't need to drag me into it to scare him off," Maki said flatly.
"Then what should I do?" Naori asked. "Just don't be too harsh, okay?"
"Sometimes, being cruel is being kind," Maki replied. "This whole thing's uncomfortable for you too, isn't it?"
Naori didn't answer right away.
Maki continued, "Fine. I'll be blunt: you're not pretty enough to be worth chasing. He should give up now."
Maybe it'll even shock him into awakening his Sharingan, she thought. That'd be something.
Naori smiled helplessly. "Classic Maki. I wish things were really that simple."
"What else can you do? Let him keep following you? Hug you? Smile at him? Let him keep dreaming? That'll just string him along."
"Ugh…" Naori frowned. She clearly hadn't thought that far ahead. She was still too young to deal with that kind of thing.
"Could that really happen?" she asked.
"It happens all the time," Maki said. "It's just like how you think we're friends now."
Naori didn't look offended—in fact, she smiled. "Aren't we?"
"Really?" Maki asked dryly.
"You haven't pushed me away," Naori said. "I don't think I'm annoying at all."
"That's exactly what Yashiro thinks too," Maki replied.
"…Touché." Naori nodded thoughtfully.
Then she asked, "Maki, do you really hate me?"
Maki didn't answer.
"Do you?" Naori asked again, eyes searching.
"…Do you really hate me?" she pressed one last time, softer this time.
Maki didn't respond, but a faint, crisp laugh reached her ears. Naori was smiling again.
"You're not going back yet?" Maki asked. "I've got training."
And just like that, she walked ahead, leaving the question hanging in the air.
"Training?" Naori asked. "Does a genius like you really need to train hard, Maki?"
"Of course. Isn't that obvious?" Maki replied. "No one's born with skill."
"Hmm… I don't know," Naori said. "You seem like you were born with it."
To some extent, that was true.
"Don't you train?" Maki asked.
Naori shook her head. "Not really. I just watch something once, and I can do it."
Ugh… Sharingan users.
Just last night, Maki had spent hours trying to get the hang of the three basic escape techniques she'd picked up—and still failed.
It was always the same.
Brain: I got it!
Hands: Nope. You absolutely don't.
"You're unbelievable," Maki muttered.
"Is there anything you can't do?" Naori grinned. "Shuriken, maybe? I could teach you. Want to learn how to curve them mid-flight?"
"Yeah, no thanks," Maki replied flatly. "That sounds like a nightmare."
I'd die laughing before I ever figure that out.
"What's so hard about that?" Naori asked, surprised.
"Oh, nothing at all," Maki said sarcastically.
Truth was, Ninjutsu wasn't about talent—it was about practice and repetition. But with a Sharingan? Things were different.
Brain: I don't know how this works…
Hands: Actually, yeah, you do.
Maki didn't think Naori could teach her anything useful.
"Come on, let me do something in return," Naori offered.
"Not necessary," Maki replied, cold as ever.
"What if I buy you something to eat?" Naori suggested.
Maki paused.
"…You got money?"
"A little," Naori said.
"Alright. Let's go."
Training could wait.
Maki's motto: Seize the moment.
Besides, she never asked Yumi for money. Yumi gave her normal pocket money, sure—but Maki's lifestyle was anything but normal. She was always short.
Without another word, she turned and walked off.
Naori followed, smiling.
Back in the forest, the insect girl who usually tended sheep had been told by Maki to wait at the family's training ground.
Meanwhile, the three old men were growing increasingly irritated as they waited for their missing granddaughter.
Kaigan, the grumpiest of them all, was already losing his temper.
But Maki didn't care. She and Naori sat side by side on the riverbank, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
Each of them held a skewer of grilled river fish and a small bowl of sweet red bean soup.
Not far off, a white-haired boy stood waist-deep in the river, quietly fishing.
Jiraiya, Maki noted casually.
"This is the life," Naori sighed. "Ninja school is exhausting."
Maki nodded in agreement, chewing her fish.
Then Naori looked at her curiously.
"Aren't you gonna take that mask off, Maki?"
"Don't even think about it."
Maki lifted her mask just enough to take a bite, her mouth briefly visible in the warm sunset light. Her gaze lingered on Naori's cheeks, softly flushed beneath the fading sun.
"Looks don't matter."
"What a shame," Naori replied with a sigh. "Don't you think it's strange, though? We're rare friends, and yet we don't even know what each other really looks like."
Maki wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "I don't want to be friends with someone as troublesome as you."
"Troublesome?" Naori blinked. "Me?"
"Very troublesome," Maki said meaningfully. "Mainly because your last name is Uchiha."
Naori pouted. "Everyone in the village dislikes the Uchiha… but I really do like everyone."
"You'll understand eventually," Maki said quietly. "Some people just aren't worth liking."
"Well, you're definitely worth liking," Naori smiled. "We have the same eyes."
"I don't have a Sharingan."
"That's not what I meant."
"…Then what kind of eyes?"
"I like people's eyes," Naori said. "And I can tell—you don't hate them. Not Renji, not Jiraiya. Even when the rest of the class does."
"You sure your eyes are working?" Maki asked flatly.
Truthfully, Renji had it rough. He was too cute—boys thought he was a sissy, and girls disliked him for being prettier than them.
As for Jiraiya… he had no one to blame but himself.
An orphan desperate for attention, always doing dumb things—like pulling girls' hair.
But Jiraiya wasn't stupid.
Getting punched by Tsunade? Painful and kind of fun.
Getting punched by Maki? Just pain.
He never teased her. He never even got close. Always kept his distance.
Down the riverbank, Jiraiya spotted the two girls. He froze, stared for a moment—then suddenly turned and ran back to shore, abandoning his fishing rod entirely.
What a kid, Maki thought, amused.
I've never even hit him. Why's he scared of me?
She bit into her grilled fish, a tiny smile curling her lips.
Do I really like everyone…?
No. Maki simply cherished her childhood memories. That was enough.
So she watched in silence, short legs swinging off the edge of the riverbank as she sat beside Naori. The two chatted idly, their voices soft in the twilight.
"That's it for today," Maki said, finishing the last bite of her fish. She licked her fingers clean and tugged her mask back down.
"Let's hang out again sometime," Naori said brightly.
"Depends," Maki replied with a shrug.
"Then it's settled." Naori beamed.
This girl… she never listens, does she?
She looked so mild and soft-spoken, but her will was anything but.
Maki glanced at her, then said nothing—just gave a casual wave and turned to leave.
Naori waved back, smiling as always.
The old men must be thrilled waiting for me, Maki thought, strolling leisurely.
No rush.
Up ahead, she noticed a familiar man kneeling on the roadside, holding a large, injured dog in his arms, panic on his face.
"Taro! What happened to you!? Who did this!? Damn it!"
Ah. He's from the Inuzuka clan, Maki noted.
And that dog… looks familiar.
The dog whimpered pitifully. "Woo~"
Maki walked right past them, indifferent.
I don't know anything. I saw nothing.
As she passed, the big dog stiffened, tail tucked tight. Its whines grew softer, more pitiful.
"Taro! What's wrong, boy? Why are you so scared!?"
Maki kept walking. But just before she disappeared behind the man, she turned back.
The dog met her gaze.
She raised her hand and made a slow gesture across her neck—a silent threat.
The dog immediately went silent, dropped to the ground, and avoided her eyes.
Maki gave a satisfied nod, then turned away again.
What a pleasant, peaceful day.
___________
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