Konoha woke up loud.
Birds shrieked over the rooftops, a vendor two streets over was already shouting about fresh onigiri, and the distant ring of a hammer carried from the main road forge.
Sakura Haruno checked herself in the mirror.
Pink hair tied back high. Green eyes sharp. New Konoha forehead protector sitting on her desk, the metal plate catching the first light like a challenge.
She picked it up, pressed the cool plate to her forehead, and tied the knot with a firm, practiced pull.
“Not bad,” she murmured.
“You’re going to saw your own head off if you pull any harder,” a relaxed voice said behind her.
Sakura turned. Sukuna leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, posture loose. His flak jacket hung open, uniform neat, not a wrinkle out of place. He looked completely rested, like the idea of fatigue simply didn’t apply to him.
“It’s fine,” Sakura said. “It’s my big day.”
He walked over, eyes flicking once over her face, then the headband. “Crooked,” he said.
“It is not—”
He untied it before she could finish, retied it in one smooth motion, and settled the metal exactly centered. His fingers brushed her skin, steady and sure.
“There,” he said. “Now you look like a genin, not like you lost a fight with a laundry line.”
Sakura clicked her tongue, but the corner of her mouth tugged up. “You know I’m going to catch up to you, right?”
“Good,” Sukuna said simply. “Standing alone gets boring.”
He said it like he was commenting on the weather. That was the thing about him: he never bragged, never strained. He just existed like someone for whom being the strongest was normal.
She huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh. “Then wait for me.”
“I am,” he said, already turning toward the hall. “Don’t be late. Your teacher’s the strict type.”
Downstairs, breakfast was already laid out. Her mother fussed with a stray strand of hair as soon as Sakura sat; her father adjusted his glasses and tried to look stern, but his eyes kept drifting to the headband.
“You look strong,” her mother said.
“I am,” Sakura replied, and this time the words felt right in her mouth.
Sukuna took his usual seat at the end of the table, cup of tea in hand. He looked like he had nowhere better to be, like there wasn’t a single thing in the world that could rush him.
When Sakura finished eating and pushed back her chair, he spoke without looking away from the window.
“Go make a good first impression,” he said. “It’s harder to fix a bad one.”
“I’ll make a better one than you did,” she shot back.
He let out a soft breath that might have been a laugh. “You’d be surprised how high that bar is,” he said. “Start with ‘alive and competent.’ We’ll build from there.”
Her parents exchanged a quick look; Sakura shouldered her bag and headed out before they could get teary.
Outside, Konoha moved like it had all the time in the world.
Stalls rolled open with a clatter. Steam rose from food stands, carrying the smells of rice, miso, and grilled fish. Shinobi in flak jackets crossed paths with merchants and civilians. Children with wooden kunai chased each other down the street, arguing about who’d become Hokage, who’d unlock a Sharingan, whose parent could beat whose.
High above, the Hokage Monument watched. Four faces carved into stone: Hashirama, Tobirama, Hiruzen, Minato. The Fourth’s features were still sharp, the stone bright. Under that row of legends, Konoha walked with the easy confidence of a village at its peak.
Sakura walked fast, forehead protector catching glints of light as she went.
By the time she slid the academy classroom door open, the room was already a storm.
Desks scraped. Voices overlapped. Someone in the back was loudly insisting they were “definitely getting a famous sensei.” Sunlight slanted through the windows, turning drifting chalk dust into flecks of gold. On the blackboard, three neat characters hovered over empty space:
Team Assignments.
Every few seconds, someone’s gaze snapped up to that blank spot, like sheer staring might make names appear faster.
Sakura stepped inside and made her way between the desks.
“Hyūga’s team is already decided, I’m telling you—”
“Forget that, the Hokage’s kid goes first—”
“If I get some random jōnin I’ve never heard of, I’m switching villages—”
Near the window, Kiba Inuzuka argued with his classmates while his small dog slept on his head like a living hat. Shino Aburame sat a few rows back, straight and still, hands folded on his desk, face mostly hidden behind his high collar and dark glasses.
Two Uchiha leaned against the rear wall, arms crossed, saying nothing. The red fan on their backs was enough to do the talking for them.
Sakura dropped into an empty seat, set her bag down, and pulled out a notebook. The page stared up at her, clean and blank.
“Oi, did you hear?” the boy in front of her half-whispered. “They say Hatake Kakashi is taking a team this year.”
“The Copy Ninja?” his friend hissed back. “My cousin said he fails almost everyone.”
“Yeah, but if he passes you, you’re basically set for life—”
Sakura’s fingers tightened slightly around her pen, then relaxed.
Behind her, someone muttered, “Must be nice, having the Devil of Konoha as your big brother.”
“Maybe they’ll give her a free pass,” another voice snickered, just quiet enough to be deniable.
Sakura’s jaw clenched for a heartbeat. She didn’t turn around. Let them talk. They’d see soon enough how much of a “free pass” it was.
The front door slid open.
Iruka-sensei walked to the podium with a clipboard under his arm, the familiar headband tilted on his scarred forehead. The chatter died in uneven ripples.
“Alright, everyone,” he said. “First, congratulations. You’ve all graduated from the Academy. From today on, you are genin of Konohagakure.” He paused just long enough for a few nervous smiles. “But your real work starts under your jōnin instructors. Some of you may not pass their tests.”
A few throats swallowed audibly.
Iruka unrolled the list.
“Team 7: Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha, and Sakura Haruno.”
Sakura’s head snapped up.
Across the room, Naruto shot to his feet with a half-choked, “Yes!” before Iruka’s glare forced him back into his seat. Sasuke’s eyes lifted to the board, dark and focused.
Whispers sparked instantly.
“Hokage’s kid and an Uchiha—”
“And Sukuna’s sister, too?”
“That team’s gonna be crazy…”
Iruka continued, “Your jōnin instructor will be Kakashi Hatake.”
The classroom exploded.
“No way!”
“You’re kidding—”
“I knew it!”
Naruto practically bounced out of his chair again, grinning hard enough to split his face. Sasuke’s expression stayed controlled, but there was a new sharpness in the way he sat.
Sakura blinked once, twice. Naruto. Sasuke. Kakashi. Her heart thumped a quick, hard rhythm under her ribs.
Iruka turned another page.
“Team 8: Hinata Hyūga, Kiba Inuzuka, and Shino Aburame. Your jōnin instructor will be Sukuna Haruno.”
The noise didn’t fade so much as shatter.
A few chairs creaked. Someone sucked in a breath.
“S-Sukuna…?”
“The Devil of Konoha?”
“I thought he only did special missions—”
Murmurs crawled through the room, low and fast.
Iruka’s tone sharpened slightly. “Yes. Sukuna Haruno. Tokubetsu jōnin. He will be responsible for Team 8’s training. You will treat him with the same respect as any other instructor.”
The side door slid open.
Sukuna stepped into the classroom.
Standard flak jacket, dark clothes, nothing ornate. Pink hair cut short, a little tousled. Hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, expression calm. He didn’t flare chakra, didn’t project killing intent. He just stood there.
Even the few students who didn’t recognize his face fell silent; they could feel the way the air shifted, the same way it did when real jōnin stepped onto a training field.
His gaze moved over the rows, unhurried, weighing faces he didn’t know yet. When his eyes passed over Hinata, Kiba, and Shino, they lingered for a heartbeat. Then he glanced to the side and found Sakura.
For a brief second, something like amusement flickered in his eyes. One corner of his mouth lifted, a small, private acknowledgment.
Sakura straightened, not stiff but steady.
Around them, whispers resumed at the edges.
“That’s him?”
“He looks normal…”
“You say that now…”
Iruka started explaining when and where each team would meet their jōnin. Bags rustled. Chairs scraped. The ordinary noise trickled back in.
Sakura’s fingers brushed the metal of her forehead protector.
She was a genin of Konoha now. Part of Team 7, under Kakashi Hatake, alongside the Hokage’s son and the Uchiha heir. In a village at its peak, in a classroom that went quiet the second her brother walked in like he owned the battlefield just by breathing.
He was already at the top.
She had no intention of letting him stay there alone.