Aiko looked stunned. That was within expectation. I just told her to do a lot of research on a list of things, poison included with the purpose of poisoning myself.
Who would take that calmly?
Her lips slightly parted as she searched for a response.
She stared at me for several seconds.
"You're insane."
I stretched slightly despite the pain, letting the smirk fade. "I've been called worse. And besides, we don't get to be normal, Aiko. Not in this village. Not in this world."
Her eyes dropped to my bandaged body before returning to mine. "And if something goes wrong?"
"Then you figure out how to fix it."
She stared at me and didn't reply immediately. Her fingers traced small, anxious circles along the wood, and for a moment, I thought she'd refuse and I didn't blame her.
She was just a kid. Thirteen? Maybe fourteen? We're practically the same age, but the way we see the world couldn't be more different.
I'd already stared into the abyss of this world considering what I know of the future, and she was still peeking from the edge.
And just when I was about to change the subject. "Fine." A faint smile appeared on her face. "But if you're going to be stupid enough to poison yourself, I'm going to be smart enough to keep you alive."
I nodded with soft chuckle. "That's what I like to hear."
Aiko rolled her eyes. "Don't get smug about it."
But there was a quiet, dangerous resolve in her expression now. Not the fire of someone trying to prove themselves, but the cold certainty of someone who knew what they were choosing.
She was in. And that was enough.
I reached for my cup of water, swirled the last bit at the bottom, and downed it in one gulp.
"I'll start the regimen two months from now," I said, my tone matter-of-fact. "As soon as I'm discharged."
Aiko blinked. "Two months?"
"That's how long they said it'll take me to recover properly," I said. "You'll need the time too."
Her mouth opened like she had more to say, but in the end, she just closed it and nodded.
"Good," I said, letting my head fall back against the pillow. "We'll begin the poison intake as soon as I'm discharged."
The room went quiet.
Aiko sat there for a moment longer, then with a loud sigh, she stood up and said. "I guess I'll be seeing you around."
"Hmm." I hummed and closed my eyes as she made her way out of the room.
…
Normal POV
Aiko had always been an orphan for as long as she could remember.
She didn't know if her parents died in a war or just disappeared. No graves. No stories. Just the name "Aiko" scrawled into the records of one of Konoha's underfunded orphanages.
Most days, it didn't bother her. Other times, in her quiet moments, she felt like a ghost who had forgotten she was dead.
The world never had time for orphans, and Konoha was no exception. They sheltered you, fed you enough to keep you moving, and offered you dreams stamped with a forehead protector and a purpose.
It was a fair deal. Cold, but fair.
She was used to being overlooked.
She'd learned how to blend in early, watching others, being useful, never asking questions she wasn't supposed to. The loud ones got in trouble. The emotional ones got labeled. She was neither, she just had to be everyone's mirror.
And then there was him.
Murakami had always been strange. Not in the obvious way. He wasn't loud or dramatic. He didn't break rules or chase after recognition. He just… paid attention.
More than anyone.
And when he did speak, it was with this eerie calmness, like he had already thought five steps ahead and was now politely dragging you along for the ride.
She never quite knew what to make of him. They'd grown up in the same orphanage, but he'd always felt distant, like he was part of some world just behind a door she hadn't found yet.
There was something quiet and measured about him, like every moment was a step in a plan only he could see. While the rest of them scrambled for attention or comfort, Murakami was simply... observing. Waiting for something. Or building toward it.
He was studying everything.
Still, she had called him a friend. She had trusted him. Laughed with him, even. There were moments, rare ones, where she thought they truly understood each other.
But that shattered the instant Murakami revealed a side of himself that didn't fit the boy she thought she knew. He wasn't just a Genin. He wasn't just smart.
He was dangerous.
No. That wasn't the right word.
He was serious.
The Lotus Pavilion was his, for crying out Loud. When they played around as though the world was theirs, he was building a legacy.
Then came his recent request.
"I'm asking you," he'd said, "to become someone no one notices. Someone no one suspects. You do it so we both survive what's coming."
She had stared at him, her mouth dry.
It wasn't the request that shook her, it was the way he said "what's coming". Like he'd seen the future and was already mourning it.
Now, sitting alone on a bench outside his room, Aiko felt her world rearranging itself. Her hands trembled, but not from fear, but from clarity.
Murakami had been a ghost for most of their lives, and she had let herself believe that made him harmless. She thought she knew him because they'd come from the same orphanage. Because they had shared food. Shared silence. Shared losses.
But what did she really know?
Now that she thought about it, he had never cried when others did.
He had never fought over scraps.
He had never looked at Konoha like it was home. More like a puzzle.
And now she realized, he had never been lost.
She was the one who had wandered all these years, clinging to the idea that being good would be enough. That loyalty would be repaid. That she just had to wait her turn.
And so, she had spent her entire life trying to be good. A good kunoichi. A good student. A good friend. Someone the village could rely on. Someone who could be seen, valued for something.
And now, she came to the realization that none of it had really mattered. Not to Konoha. Maybe not even to Murakami.
Murakami hadn't waited. He had moved quietly and strategically.
And he had won.
Not glory. Not rank. But something more important: Agency.
The power to choose where he stood. Who he protected. What future he wanted to build.
And now he was offering her a place in it.
She should've been angry. Or confused. Or afraid.
But what she felt instead was… relief.
He had been building something beneath her nose this whole time. Trading, manipulating, preparing. And somehow, even while watching him, she hadn't seen him.
'You fool,' she thought bitterly. Not at him. At herself.
Because deep down, Aiko had always suspected this village wasn't made for people like her. The war had proven it. The way orphans got sent out before anyone else.
Murakami hadn't asked her to believe in him.
He'd asked her to take a step back into the shadows so she could see clearly.
To understand the way the game worked, and play her role well enough that no one saw her hand until it was too late.
Was it manipulative? Maybe.
Was it dangerous? Definitely.
But it wasn't cruel.
And it wasn't fake.
Aiko had always wanted to be useful. That was the orphan's dream, wasn't it?
Be useful, and maybe someone would keep you. Notice you. Need you.
Now someone did.
And not because she smiled or followed rules or filled a mission quota.
Murakami saw her. For what she was and what she could be.
Not what she was told to be.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
What did it mean to serve your village, really?
Was it obeying every order?
Or was it seeing the rot in the foundation and deciding to be the cure?
Murakami wasn't loyal to the Village. Not exactly. He was loyal to the idea of a future where kids like them didn't get crushed just because they were born expendable.
That kind of loyalty was dangerous. It made you do things the world would call treason.
But maybe treason was what change looked like at first.
She stood.
He'd asked her to disappear. To fade into the background and gather information, acquire knowledge, build trust, keep her head down. To be forgettable.
There was power in being underestimated. That much she understood from the Murakami she knows now.
However, If she did this, she wouldn't be doing it for Murakami.
She'd be doing it for herself. For every orphan who'd stared at the ceiling at night wondering if anyone would ever come for them. For every kid who was told to be useful and never loud.
For every shinobi who fought and died for a village that only remembered their names when they were etched in stone.
She would become a ghost by choice.
Let the world overlook her so they could never see her coming.
****
A/N: Damn. Had to rewrite and reread this time and time again due to how deep I wanted to make Aiko's character be. She's not gonna be a side character like Sakura, I intend on making her a Main Character in her own story. Though I don't know how.
Here's to believing the future me would find a way around it.
Enjoy.