Students flooded the hallway outside Professor Orochimaru's biology classroom, their voices bouncing off lockers and tile. Naruto's shoulders relaxed as he stepped into the crowd with Kiba, finally free.
Kiba's hand smacked between Naruto's shoulder blades, the impact shifting the suppressant tin in his pocket. "Man, Orochimaru had his snake eyes all over you today," Kiba said with a whistle. "Better watch your back—he's known for turning students into his personal lab assistants." His booming laugh echoed down the hallway, carefree and oblivious to the cold dread pooling in Naruto's gut.
Naruto forced his lips upward, the muscles in his face stiff as he manufactured a grin. His fingertips drummed against his leg, just shy of the suppressant tin. "Guess that's my punishment for daydreaming about failing the midterm instead of paying attention," he said, the laugh that followed ringing false even to his own ears. Kiba's unguarded friendliness pressed against something in his chest—a sensation like trying to breathe normally while wearing a too-tight shirt buttoned all the way up.
Kiba bounced on his toes. "What class you got next?"
"English, but not for a couple hours." Naruto shifted from foot to foot, the mint tin in his pocket pressing against his thigh. He glanced over his shoulder as they walked down the hall.
Kiba's face fell, his lower lip jutting out in a way that reminded Naruto of a disappointed puppy. The comparison almost made him laugh, the tension from Orochimaru's class finally beginning to ease from his shoulders. "Dang. I have Economics in like 30 minutes," Kiba said with a sigh.
Kiba's eyes lit up as a new thought struck him. "Hey, I've got an idea! Why don't we meet after your class and I'll show you around? My sister goes here, so I spent half the summer wandering these buildings." He bounced slightly on his heels, already planning the route in his head. "I know all the shortcuts."
Naruto's throat constricted as he weighed his options. The campus tour sounded perfect—exactly what a normal freshman would jump at—but those precious free hours could be spent tracking down Kurama's professors instead. His fingers brushed against the suppressant tin in his pocket, the metal warming beneath his touch. Could he trust Kiba with the truth? The question lodged in his chest like a stone as the tin seemed to pulse against his thigh, a constant reminder of everything he couldn't say.
Kiba's smile flickered as he studied Naruto's hesitation. "Hey, no pressure," he said, jamming his hands deep into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.
"I..." Naruto's fingers traced the outline of the suppressant tin through his pocket. The weight of secrecy pressed against his ribs even as something unfamiliar—hope, maybe—pushed back. "My brother attended here last semester," he said finally, each word measured. "Nobody's heard from him since January."
Kiba's casual posture vanished. "Shit, that's serious. Not just ghosting you?" He leaned in, voice dropping. "My sister's been here two years—knows practically everyone in the science department. What's your brother's name?"
Naruto's pulse quickened. "Kurama," he said, eyes fixed on Kiba's face for any flicker of recognition. When Kiba only nodded eagerly instead of shutting down, Naruto's breath caught.
"I'll ask my sister tonight—she knows everyone," Kiba said, already pulling out his phone. "You'll hear from me the second I learn anything."
Naruto's fingers went cold against the suppressant tin. One name shared, one thread of trust extended—it could unravel everything. Yet for Kurama...
For the first time since arriving on campus, Naruto's smile reached his eyes. "That would be awesome. I was going to dig through the registrar's office after my English class to find his schedule from last semester."
Kiba's eyes lit up. "I'm in Professor Yamato's ecology seminar. I'll ask around—someone's gotta know your brother."
Naruto's throat tightened. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, fingers brushing against the metal tin of suppressants. "I—" The word stuck, unfamiliar on his tongue.
"Hey, it's what friends do," Kiba said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Friends. Naruto blinked at the casual use of the word. His fingertips pressed against the tin, that small secret between them even as something new formed—this fragile bridge in a world where he'd learned to expect only walls.
Kiba flashed a grin and jogged backward a few steps, throwing up a peace sign before spinning around and disappearing into the stream of students. Naruto's hand lingered in the air for a moment before dropping to his side. His stomach growled, reminding him of the two hours until English. With nothing better to do, he let himself drift toward the scent of fried food wafting from the cafeteria.
Naruto replayed Kiba's kindness in his mind. Could this be a true fresh start? A thrill of possibility pulsed through him, clashing with the familiar trepidation that always held him back. It was a tentative alliance, but one he would cling to fiercely. No matter what dangers lay ahead, he was determined to find Kurama—and maybe, just maybe, not have to face it alone.
The cafeteria hit Naruto like a wall of noise. He froze in the doorway, mapping the invisible boundaries. In the center, a cluster of broad-shouldered students threw their heads back in laughter that carried across the room—Alphas, obviously. Around them, Betas filled the middle tables, some leaning toward the Alpha energy, others pulling away. And there, huddled near the exits, students with identical silver bracelets ate quickly with downcast eyes—the registered Omegas, positioned for a fast retreat.
Naruto's heart hammered against his ribs as he pushed forward into the cafeteria's mayhem, eyes darting from table to table in search of a empty table. Grease-laden air mingled with the sweetness of fresh pastries, a combination that should have made his mouth water but instead left him dizzy. All around him, backpacks knocked against his shoulders and elbows jabbed his sides while peals of laughter cut through the metallic symphony of forks scraping plates, making it impossible to hold onto a single clear thought.
Hunting for refuge, he slipped toward the food line, decisions muddled by the pulsing atmosphere. The choices blurred together—tempting but overwhelming. Steam curled from a sizzling skillet as cafeteria workers assembled meals with practiced speed. Trays heaped with fried rice, curry, and questionable proteins drifted by. Eventually, he chose a simple omelet and a carton of orange juice, clutching the tray to his chest as he wove through the clamor.
He found a corner table against the wall and claimed it like territory, sliding into the chair with his back to the cool plaster. The cafeteria's noise washed over him in waves—forks scraping plates, ice clinking in cups, laughter erupting in bursts. Each sound registered with painful clarity, as if his senses had been dialed up to maximum volume.
Naruto pushed his omelet around the plate, appetite gone. His phone sat face-down beside his tray, and he resisted the urge to flip it over, to scroll through old messages from Kurama. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly and saw his brother's face on their last video call—the way Kurama's eyes crinkled when he laughed, how he'd lean too close to the camera when explaining something about his biochem project, that stupid ramen-stained hoodie he refused to wash.
Naruto straightened, jaw clenched against the familiar ache in his chest. He had a mission here. Find Kurama. Everything else—the loneliness, the danger of discovery, the constant vigilance—was just noise he needed to filter out.
The center table erupted with noise—five Alphas roaring with laughter, their fists hammering the surface as one of them staggered in an exaggerated imitation of someone drunk. Naruto's fork jabbed into his cold omelet. Three tables of distance separated him from them, yet it felt like watching life unfold on a different planet entirely. His fingers found the mint tin in his pocket, turning it over and over as he remembered Kurama's laugh—the slight rightward tilt of his head, the way his eyes would nearly disappear into crescents.
The fork slipped from his grip, striking the plate with a sharp ping. Enough. Kurama was out there somewhere, and wallowing wouldn't bring him any closer. Naruto pushed his tray away and retrieved his phone, tapping open his notes app to the meager collection of facts he'd gathered about his brother's final semester at Konaha—a list so brief it made his chest ache.
His thumb traced the outline of Kurama's name on the screen. "I'll find you," he promised under his breath. "No matter what."
Tray abandoned, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and made for the exit. Near the door, fluorescent lights glinted off the mandatory silver bands encircling the wrists of registered Omegas. Naruto's own skin remained unmarked—a temporary freedom that felt as fragile as glass.
Naruto slipped into the hallway's current of bodies, dodging backpacks and shoulders as students rushed between classes. The registrar's office—that's where he needed to go. If he could get Kurama's class list now, Kiba could help him locate the actual rooms later. Decision made, he hitched his backpack higher, fingers brushing against the suppressant tin in his pocket as he cut across the flow of traffic toward the administration building.
-
An hour later, Naruto slumped in a vinyl chair in the recreation hall, his empty notebook splayed open on the table before him. The registry office had been a dead end. "Privacy regulations," the woman behind the counter had said, barely looking up from her computer. When he'd mentioned Kurama was his brother, her fingers had paused over her keyboard. "If someone's truly missing," she'd said, voice dropping to a practiced sympathy, "you should contact campus security." Then she'd gestured toward the door, already reaching for the next form in her stack.
Naruto flipped open his laptop, the screen illuminating his frustrated face. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before typing: "accessing student schedule without permission." He scrolled through the results, eyes narrowing at each link. If the internet could teach teenagers how to brew homemade alcohol and build pipe bombs, surely it could help him find his brother's class schedule.
Even the dark web forums proved useless—mostly arguments about the best dorm parties and rumors of "underground" Omega support groups, which, Naruto suspected, were at least sixty percent parody. He closed his browser, finger poised over the trackpad. Kiba was supposed to text by the end of the day. Naruto checked the clock: just after noon.
His phone buzzed against the table, and Naruto nearly toppled his chair scrambling to grab it.
The message from Kiba lit up his screen: Sorry man. No one heard of him.
Naruto's shoulders slumped as he read the message, a hollow ache forming in his chest. There had to be another way. Regret gnawed at him—he should have paid more attention during those late-night video calls when Kurama vented about professors and that impossible statistics class. Back then, those details seemed irrelevant; their paths would diverge by the time Naruto enrolled.
Orochimaru. The name emerged from Naruto's memory like a murky specter. Kurama's calls had been filled with unease about the professor—his unsettling stare, his habit of singling out students, and those odd after-hours lab sessions. Today confirmed Naruto's suspicion: something was off about the man. But was Orochimaru just an eccentric academic, or was there a darker link to Kurama's disappearance? Naruto ran his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly, seeking clarity in the pain.
His gaze drifted to his laptop. Missing person posters. Kurama's face plastered across campus. Have you seen this student? The thought twisted his stomach. If someone had orchestrated Kurama's disappearance, wouldn't a public search only drive them deeper into hiding? Wouldn't it give them time to erase the trail his brother might have left?
Naruto's phone vibrated against the table, the alarm a harsh reminder of reality. English class in ten minutes. He snapped his laptop shut and stuffed it into his backpack, movements mechanical while his mind raced elsewhere. The search for Kurama would continue—it had to—but for now, he needed to blend in, be the ordinary student everyone expected. Maybe something would surface in class—a conversation overheard, a professor's casual remark. The next breadcrumb could appear anywhere.