I woke up choking on feathers.
Not literally choking. My lungs worked. My throat wasn't full of down. But my brain decided the moment needed to be cinematic, so it handed me that buried-alive panic anyway—soft pressure on my face, cotton in my thoughts, the urge to just… let go.
My cheek was stuck to sun-warmed wood. My glasses were crooked. My mouth tasted like stale peanuts and fear.
Everyone around me was asleep.
Not resting. Not "wow, what a long day."
Asleep like puppets whose strings had been cut and then gently coiled on the floor.
My stomach flipped so hard I tasted bile.
Genjutsu.
I didn't know the fancy name yet. I'd hear it later—Temple of Nirvana. Right now it just felt like someone had draped a wet blanket over an entire stadium and then started sharpening knives.
My chakra senses flared automatically—stupid reflex, like touching a hot stove to "check" if it's hot—and it hit me like sticking my tongue to a live wire.
Color. Texture. Emotion.
Thousands of people tasted like gone.
A thick gray-pink numbness, like cotton candy left out in rain. Softness that turned lethal the moment somebody decided you were furniture.
I forced my breath to slow. In. Out. In. Out.
Then I did the least elegant thing imaginable.
I grabbed my own chakra like a fistful of hair and yanked.
Pain flared behind my eyes. My stomach rolled. The genjutsu resisted with syrupy sweetness—shh shh shh, just sleep, it's fine, it's warm—
—and then it snapped, disgusted with me, like the illusion had just looked at my soul and decided I was too annoying to hypnotize properly.
I sat up so fast my neck popped.
"Okay," I whispered, hoarse. "Okay. Okay."
Ino was slumped beside me, mouth slightly open, a feather stuck to her cheek like a joke. Shikamaru was sprawled on the other side, head lolling. People around us were folded at wrong angles—chins to chests, shoulders slack, arms dangling over rails like laundry.
I grabbed a wake-tag from my pouch—cheap, hand-drawn spiral, bite-marked paper, the kind that felt like getting slapped awake by a cold towel—and reached toward Shikamaru—
—and stopped.
Because his chakra was wrong.
Not dreamy. Not sunk. Not soft.
Steady. Tight. Too aware.
Like he was holding his breath on purpose.
I stared at him hard enough to make my eyes sting. His eyelid didn't move.
But his shadow shifted half an inch.
A twitch. A warning.
Don't.
My heartbeat jumped like it had been pinched.
Of course he broke it himself. Of course he was playing dead. He'd forfeited earlier in full view, looking like the laziest kid alive, and meanwhile his brain had probably been counting exits and choke points and enemy headbands because Shikamaru's version of having fun was… planning your funeral routes.
I swallowed.
Then I made the choice that felt like stepping off a ledge.
I didn't tag him.
I left him "asleep," because if he was faking, he was doing it for a reason—and I didn't want to be the idiot who ruined it.
My hands shook as I turned, scanning the stands for the bigger liability.
Naruto.
He was three rows down, sprawled awkwardly on the stone steps, orange jumpsuit bright as a target even while unconscious. A feather had landed on his whisker-marked cheek.
He looked weirdly peaceful.
It made my throat tighten with something I didn't have time to name, because if I named it I'd get stuck there and then we'd both die.
Move.
I scrambled down the steps, nearly tripping over a sleeping civilian, and dropped beside him.
"Naruto," I hissed.
Nothing.
"Naruto!" louder, because subtlety was for people who weren't currently sitting inside a mass hypnotized murder bowl.
Still nothing.
I slapped the wake-tag onto his chest.
It flared.
Naruto jolted like someone had stuck him with a needle. He sucked in a huge breath and immediately sat up swinging.
"WHAT—?! WHO—?!"
"Me," I snapped, grabbing his sleeve before he punched a sleeping grandma. "It's me. Shut up. Shut up—"
Naruto blinked, eyes wide, then narrowed as the arena reality caught up like a delayed punch.
"Why's everybody—"
"Genjutsu," I said. "Big one."
Naruto's head snapped toward the arena floor.
And then his mouth opened.
"Oh my GOD—!"
"Inside voice," I snapped, because apparently my new personality trait was "woman who wants to throttle Naruto Uzumaki."
Too late.
A Sound shinobi vaulted into the stands two sections over, landing light as a cat.
He didn't even look at the sleeping bodies like they were people.
He looked at them like they were furniture.
Then he raised a kunai.
Naruto made a noise—half growl, half scream—and surged to his feet.
I grabbed his belt from behind like a leash. "Naruto—don't—"
He jerked forward anyway.
The Sound nin's head turned.
His gaze locked onto Naruto like, oh good, prey that moves.
A shiver went through my senses—chakra like sour metal, eager and tidy. A predator's satisfaction.
Naruto charged.
I hated him for being brave and loud and impossible, and I loved him for it in the same breath, and my brain tried to malfunction about that, and I didn't have time.
"Fine," I spat, and sprinted after him.
Naruto hit the Sound nin first—shadow clone popping into existence mid-run, slamming into the attacker with a wild, messy punch that was mostly anger. The Sound nin stumbled back, surprised, and Naruto's second clone tackled him into the aisle.
It wasn't clean. It wasn't elegant.
It was Naruto.
And it worked.
I pulled a flash tag between my fingers and slapped it onto the stone at the Sound nin's feet.
"Close your eyes!" I barked.
Naruto didn't.
The tag popped like a miniature sun.
Naruto yelped and fell backward, clutching his face. "OW—!"
"YOU'RE WELCOME!" I shouted back, because now was a great time for sarcasm, apparently.
The Sound nin screamed too—blinded, off-balance—and Naruto's clone smashed a fist into his jaw. The attacker went down hard, sliding into a row of sleeping spectators like a broken doll.
Naruto ripped his hands away from his face, eyes watering. "What the hell is happening?!"
"An invasion," I said, and the words felt too big in my mouth.
He stared at me.
For a split second, he looked nine years old again. Just a kid at the edge of a riot, trying to understand why adults let the world turn into knives.
Then his jaw clenched.
"No," he said, like refusal could rewrite reality. "No way—"
A scream cut through the stadium.
Not a battle shout.
A civilian scream—high, terrified, and abruptly cut off like someone slammed a door on it.
Naruto flinched.
My stomach dropped.
I yanked another tag free—smoke this time—and slapped it against the aisle. Gray billowed thick and fast, swallowing sightlines, turning the rows into a foggy maze.
People asleep couldn't run. Couldn't protect themselves.
So the best defense was making it harder for attackers to pick targets.
My chakra pool twinged like a warning.
I ignored it. Because that's what I did when I was scared: I spent resources like I could buy safety.
Movement on the railing above us.
A figure dropped down into our section—landed light, one hand in his pocket like he hadn't just stepped into a massacre.
Kakashi.
His visible eye swept the chaos in a single, calculating glance: sleeping crowd, foreign shinobi moving in coordinated waves, Sand pulling away from the arena in a specific direction.
Then his gaze snapped to us.
"Sylvie," he said, sharp. "Naruto."
Naruto's chest heaved. "Sensei—Sasuke—!"
"I know," Kakashi cut in, and just hearing that word—know—made my throat tighten. "Listen. You two stay alive. That's your first job."
Naruto opened his mouth—
Kakashi leaned in, voice low and brutal. "If you die here, you can't protect anyone. Do you understand?"
Naruto swallowed hard.
Then nodded once.
Kakashi's gaze flicked to me. "How's your chakra?"
I almost laughed. It would've been hysterical and awful.
"Like a hamster on a wheel," I said. "But it's still running."
Kakashi didn't smile. "Good. Use it smart."
He turned his head slightly.
And that's when I saw Shikamaru properly.
Still "asleep."
Still sprawled.
But now his shadow wasn't quite matching the angle of his body. It was too ready. Like it was waiting for a command.
Kakashi's eye narrowed a fraction.
He knew too.
Shikamaru was already in the game.
Kakashi didn't call him out.
He just spoke loud enough to reach him anyway.
"All genin who are awake—protect civilians. Get them out of the stands. Do not engage unless you have to."
Naruto bristled. "But—!"
Kakashi's voice sharpened like a blade. "Naruto."
Naruto shut up.
Kakashi's hand slammed down onto the railing and he vaulted, landing closer to the arena exit lanes. "Sasuke is pursuing Gaara."
My stomach did that drop again.
Gaara.
The sand kid with the dead eyes and the murder aura that tasted like dried blood and cracked bone.
Kakashi's gaze pinned Naruto. "He's a threat right now. I'm going after Sasuke. You're going after Gaara."
Naruto's eyes widened. "Me?!"
"You're fast," Kakashi said. "You're stubborn. And you won't stop until you're dead. That's useful today."
Naruto looked like he wanted to argue with the compliment.
Kakashi slapped his palm to the ground.
"Summoning Jutsu."
Smoke. A pop.
A very small dog.
Pakkun appeared with a grumpy squint and a tiny flak vest. He looked around once, took in the chaos, and sighed like an overworked salaryman.
"Seriously?" Pakkun said. "Again?"
Naruto blinked. "A dog?!"
Pakkun's gaze snapped to Naruto. "A ninken, brat."
Kakashi crouched and tapped two fingers to Pakkun's forehead. "Track Gaara. Sand siblings. They're extracting him."
Pakkun sniffed once, then sneezed. "Ugh. Sand gets everywhere."
Kakashi's gaze flicked to me. "Sylvie. You're with Naruto."
My heart lurched. Not romantic—just anchor.
Orders meant structure.
Structure meant I didn't have to decide everything alone.
"Yes," I said immediately.
Kakashi's eye cut to the "sleeping" Shikamaru. "And—"
Shikamaru's finger twitched once, barely visible.
Kakashi's voice didn't change. "—you're coming too."
Shikamaru's eye cracked open a hair.
He looked directly at me for half a second.
Don't say anything.
I didn't.
Shikamaru sat up like he'd just woken naturally, rubbing the back of his head with exaggerated grogginess. "Tch. What a drag…"
Naruto pointed at him. "YOU WERE AWAKE?!"
Shikamaru squinted at Naruto. "No."
Naruto's face went red. "YES YOU—!"
Shikamaru's shadow slid an inch, curling around Naruto's ankle just long enough to make him stumble.
"Oops," Shikamaru said blandly. "Must've been the genjutsu."
Naruto glared. "I hate you."
"Get in line," I muttered.
Kakashi didn't waste more breath. He vaulted off toward the arena lanes, already disappearing into smoke and bodies.
"Okay," I said, voice tight. "We need to—"
A crash shook the stadium.
Not from the stands.
From above.
My chakra senses caught it before my eyes did—an ugly, vast pressure in the Kage box area, like a lid had been slammed down.
The air tasted… wrong.
That void flavor again.
Orochimaru.
My skin prickled.
I forced myself not to look. Not because I didn't want to.
Because if I looked, I'd freeze.
And freezing was how you died.
"Move," Shikamaru said, suddenly all business. His voice dropped into that calm tone that made you obey even if you wanted to bite him. "Stampede's about to start."
He was right.
The genjutsu was breaking in pockets. People were waking up confused and terrified, which meant they'd run in whatever direction their fear pointed.
Thousands of bodies.
Narrow exits.
If we didn't guide them, they'd crush each other for the privilege of not being stabbed.
My hands moved before my brain finished panicking.
I yanked out a stack of pre-drawn tags—cheap, messy, imperfect—and started slapping them onto stone along the aisles.
Not wake-tags.
Directional.
Little "push" seals—subtle wind nudges, barely chakra, the kind you used to redirect smoke or roll a ball.
Only now I was using them to steer humans.
"Left," I whispered, pressing one down. "Left, left, left…"
My chakra pool winced again.
Nausea tickled my throat.
I swallowed it down like a bad secret.
Naruto grabbed a sleeping man under the armpits and hauled him up like a sack. "Hey! Wake up! WAKE UP!"
The man blinked, startled—then saw a Sound nin two rows over and screamed.
Naruto flinched. "Okay! Don't do that!"
"Helpful," I said, because I couldn't stop myself.
Pakkun trotted between us, sniffing. "Gaara's already moved. You idiots better hurry or we're chasing sand footprints for three miles."
Shikamaru's shadow stretched out, thin lines slipping across the steps like ink. It didn't grab anyone—just tripped one panicking civilian gently, turned their fall into a stumble that redirected them away from a choke point.
It was disgusting how good he was at it.
"Stairs are clogging," Shikamaru said. "We need a second exit."
I scanned fast—eyes, senses, logic.
My senses tasted the crowd like a mouthful of static. Too much. Too many emotions. Fear had a flavor: copper and sour sweat.
I couldn't stay "open" like this long.
I forced my chakra perception narrower. Just the immediate area. Just the flow.
"There," I said, pointing. "That service tunnel—"
Naruto looked where I pointed. "That's not an exit, that's—"
"It's a hole," I snapped. "Holes are exits if you're desperate."
Shikamaru nodded once. "Works."
Naruto stared at both of us like we'd lost our minds.
Then an explosion boomed outside the stadium and Naruto's face changed.
He didn't argue again.
He just moved.
We cleared bodies. We dragged people. We shoved Leaf chūnin into positions where they could actually help, because half of them were still in the "I can't believe this is happening" stage of reality.
I slapped a sticky tag onto a Sound shinobi's sandal when he ran past—pure instinct—and the guy faceplanted into stone with a wet crack.
Naruto winced. "Ow."
"Not dead," I panted. "Just… introduced to gravity."
Shikamaru's shadow flicked. "Nice."
Compliments from Shikamaru felt like being handed a coupon for a store you didn't want to enter.
We reached the tunnel.
Narrow. Dark. Smelled like dust, old stone, and something faintly damp.
The civilians hesitated, staring into it like it was the mouth of a monster.
Naruto threw his arms wide. "GO! GO! GO! THIS IS THE EXIT NOW!"
A woman stared at him, trembling. "But—"
Naruto leaned in, eyes fierce. "If you stay up here, you'll die."
She swallowed hard, then ran.
The others followed, pulled by terror and Naruto's brutal honesty.
Something in my chest tightened at that—Naruto saying the ugly truth out loud without flinching. He always did that. Even when it made him look stupid. Even when it made him look cruel.
Sometimes truth was cruel.
My hands were shaking.
I didn't know if it was adrenaline or chakra depletion or the fact that the screaming outside sounded too much like—
No.
Not that.
Not now.
I swallowed again, hard, and forced my brain back into the present.
Shikamaru leaned close, voice low. "Once they're flowing, we peel off."
"Peel off where?" Naruto demanded, because he was Naruto and subtlety hated him personally.
Pakkun sighed. "Out of the stadium, toward the forest. Gaara's trail is headed east-southeast. Smells like… insomnia and murder."
Naruto's eyes widened. "That's not a smell!"
Pakkun stared at him. "You'd be surprised."
I gave the last civilian a shove toward the tunnel and slapped two more "push" tags down to keep the flow from reversing.
My head throbbed behind my eyes.
The world tilted slightly, like my body was angry at me for spending chakra on strangers.
Too bad.
I wiped sweat off my upper lip with the back of my hand.
Naruto turned to me, eyes sharp now. "Sylvie. Are you okay?"
The question hit weird.
Not like a teammate checking a tool.
Like… him noticing I was human.
My throat tightened again.
"I'm fine," I lied automatically.
Shikamaru snorted. "You look like you're about to throw up."
"Supportive," Naruto snapped.
"I'm realistic," Shikamaru said. Then, to me, quieter: "Don't overdo it. We need you functional."
Functional.
I nodded, because nodding was easier than admitting my vision was starting to blur at the edges.
Above us, the Kage box barrier pulsed faintly, like a bruise in the sky.
Somewhere inside it, the Third Hokage was fighting alone.
Somewhere outside it, the village was breaking.
"Okay," I whispered, mostly to myself. "Okay. We're doing this."
Naruto bounced on his heels like a caged animal. "Let's go!"
Pakkun trotted toward the exit lane, already sniffing. "Try not to die. I hate paperwork."
Shikamaru stretched his shadow back into himself, face blanking into calm. "Troublesome day."
I almost laughed.
Then another scream cut through the air—closer now—and the laugh died in my throat.
We ran.