Inside, Hokage Hall yawned in honeyed light and the soft purr of climate control, designed to erase all discomfort and instead amplify the unreality of it all. Every polished surface, every perfectly-aligned row, declared: here, you are a product. Even the dust motes floating in the spotlights seemed curated.
Naruto's sneakers scuffed over the synthetic wood floor. For a second, he hesitated at the threshold, fighting the urge to run. It was more than stage fright—it was the certainty of being outnumbered and outgunned. The crowd had already sorted itself into its caste system, a living flowchart:
Alphas claimed the frontmost rows, shoulders squared, hair sharp, hands laced over knee or phone or status symbol. Betas filled the bulk of the middle seats, divided into mini-tribes—ambitious scholars in dark sweaters, fidgeters tapping at tablets, gossipers with half an eye on the hierarchy. Along the auditorium's periphery, like satellites, the registered Omegas clustered in silence, the silver bands on their wrists glinting in the institutional lighting. Most kept their heads bowed, the bare skin of their nape exposed in a calculated show of compliance.
Naruto scanned the seats. He wove into the Betas, choosing a spot on the aisle with two empty seats on either side—a coward's compromise, but a safe one.
He set his backpack on the floor and immediately regretted it; the next Beta to pass tripped on the strap, shooting him a glare. Naruto pulled the bag in and muttered a sorry that evaporated before it left his lips.
The hall filled rapidly, the ambient noise growing more acidic: the snap of expensive notebooks opening, the whir of hover cameras recording the moment for parents, the hiss of private jokes in the Alpha section. Naruto tried to focus on breathing. He fiddled with the edge of his campus map, smoothing out the crumples over and over until the paper started to peel.
At precisely 9:00, the house lights dropped and the main screen blazed white. A Beta in a crisp gray suit—probably a staffer—strode to the lectern, exuding the caffeinated energy of someone who'd trained for weeks to be ignored by people richer and more powerful than themselves.
"Welcome, class of 2026!" Her voice cut through the buzz, crisp and piped in stereo through hidden speakers. "We're delighted to have you all at Konoha Elite College. Before we begin, please remember: no recording inside the auditorium, no food or drink except in designated zones, and please, if you feel ill or overwhelmed, speak to the Wellness Desk at the back. We want everyone to feel safe and seen here."
A polite laugh line landed dead. The speaker wasn't fazed.
"I know you're all anxious to meet your roommates and explore campus, but tradition comes first," she continued. "We begin every year by honoring the highest-scoring freshman, who has graciously agreed to say a few words. Please welcome—" the Beta checked her notes, eyes flicking over the script, "—Sasuke Uchiha."
A collective intake of breath rippled through the hall, louder than anything so far. Heads swiveled. Even the Omegas in the back looked up, as if compelled by a change in atmospheric pressure.
Sasuke Uchiha walked onto the stage like he'd been carved for it, shoulders unyielding, hands thrust deep in the pockets of a blazer he hadn't bothered to button. His hair was black as hydraulic oil, skin pale in a way that made his eyes—dark and unreadable—stand out all the more. He moved with the contained violence of a live wire. Even before he spoke, he looked monumentally bored.
He took the lectern, adjusted the mic once, and let the silence linger a fraction too long.
"I was told to prepare a speech," Sasuke began, voice low and clipped, "but I don't waste my time on pointless rituals." He looked up, gaze cutting through the rows. "I'm here for myself. Not for friends. Not for competition. Not for some family name." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Do whatever you want with your time here—party, study, fail, succeed—I genuinely couldn't care less." He shrugged, as if the entire auditorium were beneath his notice. "Just stay out of my way."
He stepped back from the podium. There was a beat of dead silence, then a flurry of confused applause—some genuine, some sarcastic, some nervous. Sasuke didn't acknowledge any of it. He left the stage with the same bored gait, eyes already scanning for threats or—worse—challenges.
Naruto had stopped breathing. He recognized the type; he'd seen it in every foster home, every schoolyard. The person who was more than just good at something—they were built for it, and they'd never let you forget. Sasuke's speech was the only honest thing in the whole morning.
Someone nudged Naruto's shoulder. He flinched and half-turned, expecting a reprimand. Instead, a Beta with spiked brown hair and a battered army jacket leaned in with a sideways grin.
"That was the most interesting orientation speech I've ever heard," the Beta whispered. "Most years it's just someone's mom crying on Zoom."
Naruto smirked despite himself. "Bet it's hard to cry when your face is made of solid steel."
The Beta snorted. "I'm Kiba. Veterinary track. Don't tell anyone, but I'm just here for the tuition break. You?"
Naruto hesitated, swallowing a dozen lies before settling on, "Pre-med." It was the safest answer, the one he'd drilled into memory for situations exactly like this. "Hoping to get a research internship, maybe."
Kiba's eyebrows jumped. "Ambitious. You one of those kids who already memorized the campus map and the faculty directory?"
"No," Naruto lied. "Just trying not to get lost, you know?"
Kiba pointed at the main screen, where a 3D model of the campus rotated with exaggerated smoothness. "That's all for show. No one can find the Science Complex on the first try. Even the professors get lost sometimes."
Naruto tried to smile, but his face still felt frozen from Sasuke's words. He made himself focus on the present, on the rumpled acceptance letter and the warmth radiating from the Beta beside him.
"Hey," Kiba said, fishing in his jacket for a battered phone. "You got Line or something? I have a few friends here that do a lunch crawl every Thursday. If you're pre-med, you'll need the moral support."
Naruto fumbled out his phone, thumbs already slick. He tapped in Kiba's info and felt the small, solid relief of having a contact—just one—in this labyrinth. It was enough to make the air feel less toxic.
On stage, the Beta staffer resumed her spiel, covering everything from campus safety to meal plans to "the importance of diversity in shaping future leaders." It was all white noise. Naruto tuned out, letting his thoughts run wild.
He remembered Kurama's last message, how it had ended mid-sentence: Don't let them find out about you. It made more sense now, surrounded by thousands of strangers who had been trained to sniff out any difference, any weakness, and exploit it. The whole place was a crucible.
Eventually the lights came up, signaling the end of the presentation. Students stood, stretching and checking their phones. Kiba clapped Naruto on the shoulder—harder than necessary, but not unkind.
"Come on," Kiba said. "Let's grab our packets before the Alpha pack decides to cut in line."
Naruto shouldered his backpack and followed, feeling the currents of the room push and pull him like he was nothing more than a leaf in the wind. He allowed himself a backward glance at the stage.
He didn't know what he expected from college, but he was already sure of one thing: he would have to fight for every inch of ground, every scrap of belonging. And if he slipped even once—if he let anyone see what he really was—the system would eat him alive.
Outside, the halls buzzed with orientation euphoria. Naruto joined the crowd, map still clutched tight, his chest aching with hope and dread in equal measure.
The line for the welcome packets snaked along the hallway in a lazy S, winding past the trophy case and the wall of donor plaques. Naruto tried not to eavesdrop on the conversations around him, but the noise had a way of seeping in: Alphas talking about legacy perks and ski trips, Betas comparing AP credits and sneering at the "Omega coddling programs," Omegas whispering in close, nervous knots.
The tables at the front were staffed by a mix of upperclassmen and Beta admin. Naruto could see the packets sorted by color, and the line processed with brutal efficiency. When it was finally his turn, the senior glanced at his ID and slid over the correct folder. "Orientation events are mandatory for all freshmen. Dorm check-in by four. If you have an allergy or medical accommodation, go straight to Health Services."
Naruto thanked him and shuffled aside, scanning the folder as he walked. Kiba caught up a moment later, his own folder bulging with extra forms.
"You got dorms or apartment?" Kiba asked, steering Naruto out of the flow and into the relative privacy of a side alcove.
"Dorms. You?"
Kiba shook his head. "Apartment. My sister's an upperclassman, so I'm staying with her. Parents figured they'd save on dorm fees." He shrugged, jangling his keys. "Less rules, better food, no RAs breathing down your neck."
A voice echoed down the hallway: "Heads up, Dean on deck." The crowd stiffened, and a path opened reflexively. At the far end, a figure strode forward—older, stone-faced, hair completely black despite the mans age, suit severe enough to cut glass. He wore his scars with the same pride as his medals. Danzo Shimura.
The students quieted as he walked. Even the Alphas seemed to shrink under his gaze. Danzo surveyed the line, and for one nauseating moment, Naruto thought the Dean would look right through him—past the fake confidence, past the Beta performance, down to whatever genetic defect the Registry had failed to detect. But Danzo's eyes swept over him with clinical disinterest, and he moved on.
Kiba let out a shaky breath. "Heard he had three Alphas thrown out last year for a prank. Not even expelled—just 'disappeared.'" Naruto nodded, but his hands had started to sweat.
"Hey," Kiba said, suddenly serious. "You okay? You look like you're going to pass out."
"Fine," Naruto lied, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Just nervous."
Kiba grinned, mercifully letting the subject drop. "If you survive your first week, you're basically set. Worst that happens, you end up like that guy." He pointed to a wall of black-and-white portraits: former Deans, every one of them Alpha, every face stony with the burden of ruling. "Or you get out and start a vet clinic. Honestly, there's no shame in that."
Naruto smiled, the gesture coming easier now. "Thanks, Kiba. I'll remember that."
They exchanged numbers, set a tentative lunch plan, and parted ways at the next intersection. Naruto ducked into a stairwell, needing a moment alone before facing the dorms.
-
Outside the auditorium, orientation had devolved into an exercise in controlled chaos. Clusters of students clogged the halls, their voices echoing off the glass and stone in bursts of laughter, gossip, or thinly disguised posturing. Alphas surged in small packs, cutting every queue and collecting their swag bags first, some performing casual dominance displays—an elbow nudge here, a condescending smirk there—each perfectly calibrated to keep Betas and Omegas in their designated lanes.
Naruto watched an Alpha boy, blazer slung over one shoulder, sweep past a Beta girl at the coffee kiosk and swipe the last cinnamon roll. She offered only a tight, practiced smile, then hunched her shoulders and slid away. The sight made Naruto's blood prickle. It would have taken so little to say something, to step in—but he forced himself to stay invisible. Remember what you're here for, he thought. Don't screw it up on day one.
He pulled out his own orientation packet, searching for something to ground him. The campus map was glossy and oversaturated, a mess of color-coded paths and buildings with names he barely recognized. He found an empty bench tucked behind a row of potted bamboo, then sat and unfolded the map, tracing the paths with one bitten nail.
Kurama's dorm had been here, marked by a thumbtack in every video call. The Student Rec Center, where Kurama claimed the pool was always over-chlorinated and "the best place to hide from authority." The stubby Science Complex, whose windowless lower floors Kurama had called "the dungeon." Every landmark was a bright, familiar wound.
Naruto closed his eyes and heard Kurama's voice through the static previous video calls, his brother's face pixelated but his smile unmistakable. "I can't wait till you're here, you know? No more of this laggy bullshit. Just you and me raising hell on campus every day." Kurama had leaned closer to the camera then, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We'll be unstoppable together, little brother." The memory of those words, so full of certainty, made Naruto's chest ache with a hollowness that seemed to expand with each breath.
He opened his eyes and felt the air hitch in his chest. The ache was worse than anger or sadness. He'd spent so long imagining this campus, the two of them together, conquering it as a unit. Now every path he traced was a route to the last place Kurama had ever been seen.
Naruto snapped the map closed. For a moment, he let his knuckles go white, then exhaled and forced his hands to relax. He'd promised to find his brother. That promise was the only thing holding his pieces together.
He shouldered his backpack and joined the stream of students heading for the dorms. The main artery was already a slow crawl, choked with bodies and rolling luggage. As he turned a corner, he remembered the message: "Don't let them know about you." He tried to walk like a Beta, chin neutral, eyes down. It was exhausting, the constant vigilance, the awareness that one mistake could shatter the illusion.
Naruto rounded the corner with his nose buried in the map, his mind a thousand miles away. The collision came without warning—his body slamming into something solid and immovable. His feet tangled beneath him as he pitched forward, hands grasping instinctively at fabric. A sharp intake of breath, and suddenly they were both falling, a tangle of limbs and papers against the polished floor.
Naruto's palms pressed against a firm chest, his legs awkwardly splayed across the stranger's thighs. Time seemed to stop as he looked up, meeting coal-black eyes that burned with irritation. Naruto recognized him, it was the same boy from the ordination speech. Sasuke Uchiha.
"Are you planning to use me as furniture all day?" Sasuke snapped, voice like ice. "Get. Off."
Naruto's cheeks caught fire, the heat spreading down his neck and pooling beneath his collar. "Shit! Sorry! I wasn't—" he stammered, pushing himself upright with trembling hands and scrambling for his papers that had scattered like autumn leaves across the polished marble floor.
Sasuke didn't speak. He just stood, ramrod straight, every sinew in his body coiled tight beneath his uniform, radiating silent judgment from behind hooded eyes. The pristine white collar of his shirt had come undone, revealing a sliver of pale collarbone. His uniform, though identical to those worn by other Alphas, hung differently on his frame—the fabric molded to broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. His eyes, obsidian and fathomless, had none of the typical Alpha smugness Naruto had come to expect. Instead, his gaze cut like a scalpel, clinical and predatory, dissecting Naruto layer by layer. His hair, a blue-black so deep it absorbed light rather than reflected it, fell in artful disarray across his alabaster brow.
"You should watch where you're going," Sasuke said, each syllable precisely enunciated, his voice dropping to a register so frigid it sent visible shivers cascading down Naruto's spine.
Naruto bristled, his embarrassment crystallizing into defiance. "Maybe try not walking through people next time," he shot back, squaring his shoulders despite the tremor still lingering in his fingertips.
The corner of Sasuke's mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but a sneer held in check by the barest thread of civility. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want my attention," he said, one eyebrow arching imperiously. "Unless"—his voice slid into silken mockery, honey-coated venom—"that's what you were after all along."
Heat surged up Naruto's neck, his fingers crushing the edges of his papers as he snatched them from the floor. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled, each word punched through clenched teeth. The accusation burned like acid in his chest, threatening to dissolve the careful mask he'd constructed. "Not everyone wants your attention, Uchiha."
The Sasuke's face shifted into a look that said everything without words—lips pressed into a thin line, one eyebrow raised so high it disappeared beneath raven bangs, eyes half-lidded in perfect disbelief. The expression screamed "yeah right" louder than if he'd actually said it.
Sasuke's gaze lingered a beat too long before he adjusted his collar. "Find someone else to collide with next time," he said, voice clipped. Then he pivoted away, his shoulders carving a path through the sea of students who seemed to instinctively part before him.
Naruto stood, fuming, for a good minute before realizing he was still holding his breath. He let it out in a sharp exhale, then checked to see if anyone had witnessed the disaster. A couple of Betas whispered nearby, but they seemed more amused than scandalized.
Of all the people to crash into, it had to be Sasuke fucking Uchiha.