One Year Later

The autumn wind swept across the playground, lifting the dead leaves from the ground. They spun twice in the air before falling back where they had been.

Shuo Ye stood at the entrance to the Ninja Academy, looking at those familiar gates. He paused for three seconds.

A year had passed.

Exactly one year had passed since the Uchiha Massacre. Three hundred sixty-five days. More than three thousand meals. Countless dawns when he woke from nightmares.

He shifted his schoolbag to his other hand and stepped inside.

The hallway was still the same hallway. A small patch of paint had peeled off the wall, and no one had repaired it. A yellowed duty roster was pasted to the classroom door, the names on it faded by sunlight. Nothing had changed.

Shuo Ye pushed open the classroom door.

The noise stopped for half a second.

Not everyone turned to look at him, but enough did. Those gazes held curiosity, sympathy, and cautious avoidance. The Uchiha Massacre was something everyone in the Hidden Leaf Village knew about—two survivors, one named Sasuke, the other Shuo Ye.

Shuo Ye walked to his seat and sat down. It was near the middle, toward the back, by the wall.

He took out his textbook and spread it open on the desk, lowering his eyes to the first page—Chapter Two: Basic Chakra Theory. This time last year, he had still been studying Chapter One.

Time really did keep moving forward.

"Alright, everyone, quiet down—" Iruka entered the classroom, his voice as energetic as it had been a year ago. The scar still ran across the bridge of his nose, and his smile was still just as bright.

Shuo Ye raised his head and sat up straight.

His expression was perfectly normal. The corners of his mouth were slightly raised, his gaze calm—neither gloomy nor overly bright. An ordinary child. A child gradually emerging from the shadows.

It was an expression he had practiced for a year.

The morning class was on shuriken theory. Iruka drew trajectory diagrams on the blackboard and explained how wind affected throwing angles. Shuo Ye listened for half the lesson. During the other half, his pen drew lines across his notebook.

He was not taking notes.

He was drawing a street.

Trees, houses, streetlamps, the roses displayed outside a flower shop. His strokes were light, as if he feared the paper would tear if he pressed too hard.

Halfway through, he stopped.

This street was the entrance to the Uchiha Clan District. That row of houses—every one of them was empty. The roses had withered long ago, and no one watered them anymore.

He tore out the page, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it into his desk.

"Shuo Ye—" Iruka suddenly called on him. "With a westward wind at fifteen degrees, what should the shuriken's deflection angle be?"

Shuo Ye stood up. "Three to five degrees, depending on the distance."

"Correct. You answered quickly. Looks like you prepared beforehand."

"Mm."

He sat back down.

Sasuke behind him did not look up. He sat by the window and had not said a single word since morning. The light streaming in from outside illuminated his profile—Sasuke Uchiha's face, its features too sharp for an eight-year-old child.

Shuo Ye withdrew his gaze and turned to a fresh page.

He did not draw anything.

During lunch break, Shuo Ye went to the cherry tree beside the playground.

It was still the same tree. Its trunk had grown thicker, half the leaves on its branches had fallen, and the rest rustled in the wind.

He sat down with his back against the trunk and opened his lunchbox.

He had shaped the rice balls himself. The seaweed was still wrapped rather poorly, but at least it had not come apart. The pickled plum inside had been bought from a store, and it was a little sour.

He took a bite.

"Hey—"

A voice came from above him.

Shuo Ye looked up. Ino stood before him, holding her own lunchbox. Her blond hair shone dazzlingly under the noon sun. She had grown a little taller than last year, and her face had slimmed down somewhat, but her smiling eyes were still exactly the same.

"You're here," Shuo Ye said flatly.

"You finally came back." Ino sat down and opened her lunchbox on her lap—the rice balls inside were still arranged neatly, their seaweed wraps impeccable. "I asked my mom when you'd be coming back to school, but she said she didn't know. I waited for so long."

"There were some things at home."

"Oh."

Ino did not press him. She took a bite of her rice ball, her cheeks puffing out.

They were silent for a while.

"You've gotten thinner," Ino said.

"You haven't changed."

"What do you mean?"

"You still talk as much as ever."

Ino glared at him. "You're the same too. Your mouth is still so mean."

The corner of Shuo Ye's mouth twitched. It was not a smile, but it was not expressionless either. He finished his rice ball and brushed the grains of rice from his hands.

On the playground, some younger children were playing ball. The ball rolled over and stopped beside Shuo Ye's foot. A boy ran over to retrieve it, paused when he looked up and saw Shuo Ye's face, then grabbed the ball and ran away.

Ino noticed that pause.

She lowered her head and closed her lunchbox.

"They—"

"It doesn't matter," Shuo Ye cut her off.

"I wasn't finished."

"You don't need to be."

Ino opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a while, she took a rice ball from her lunchbox and held it out to him.

"My mom made tuna ones today."

Shuo Ye accepted it and took a bite.

"Not bad."

"You only ever say 'not bad.'"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say it's delicious."

"It's delicious."

"You're so perfunctory!"

"You told me to say it."

Ino burst out laughing. When she was done, she leaned against the tree trunk and looked at the clouds overhead. The clouds moved slowly, like cotton rolling in the wind, yet after rolling for ages, they still seemed to be in the same place.

"During the year you were gone," Ino said, "Sasuke changed a lot."

Shuo Ye said nothing.

"He used to talk to people. Now he doesn't. During taijutsu class, he keeps hitting his opponents even after knocking them to the ground. Even Iruka-sensei can barely stop him."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"I guessed."

Shuo Ye stood and put his lunchbox into his schoolbag.

Ino looked up at him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the classroom."

"It's still early."

"I want to sleep for a while."

He left.

Ino sat beneath the tree and watched his back. His spine was very straight, and his shoulders did not sway when he walked—the exact same walking posture he had had a year ago. But Ino always felt that his footsteps had become heavier.

She could not explain the feeling.

It was like every step was confirming that the ground beneath his feet was solid.

In the afternoon taijutsu class, Shuo Ye was paired with Shikamaru.

Shikamaru was still Shikamaru—his hands in his pockets, a yawn escaping him as he glanced at Shuo Ye.

"You're back."

"Mm."

"Not by choice, huh?"

Shuo Ye did not answer.

Shikamaru did not ask again. He never asked too much. Shuo Ye had always felt that Shikamaru was probably the smartest person in the class—not smart in terms of intelligence, but smart in the sense that he knew what should be asked and what should not.

"Let's start." Shikamaru took a lazy opening stance.

The two began sparring on the sandy ground. Shuo Ye's taijutsu was about the same as it had been a year ago—his strength and speed controlled at a level slightly above average, his punches structured but not lethal, his evasions quick enough but never leaving afterimages.

Shikamaru was soon sweating heavily.

"You bastard—" he panted. "Did you get stronger again?"

"No."

"Liar. That move just now almost—"

Shikamaru was thrown to the ground, lying in the sand and gasping for breath. Shuo Ye reached out and pulled him up.

"You did that on purpose." Shikamaru climbed to his feet and brushed the sand from himself. "You're always like this. Keeping your abilities under control, never showing off."

"You're overthinking it."

"If I didn't think too much, I wouldn't be Nara Shikamaru."

Shuo Ye did not reply.

In the distance, Iruka blew his whistle. Break time.

Shuo Ye walked to the edge of the playground to drink some water. He unscrewed his canteen and tilted his head back for a sip.

The water was a little cold. His Adam's apple bobbed once.

He lowered the canteen and saw a pair of eyes watching him.

At the other end of the playground, Sasuke had just finished a match. His opponent lay facedown on the ground, the skin at the corner of his mouth split open. Sasuke stood beside him, looking down at him with cold eyes.

Not anger. Not rage. Coldness.

Like the ground in winter—hard as stone, incapable of growing anything.

Iruka ran over and crouched beside the injured child. Sasuke turned his head away and left.

Shuo Ye put the cap back on his canteen and leaned against the railing at the edge of the playground.

The wind blew in, sweeping sand up from the field. It struck his face, stinging slightly.

He closed his eyes.

After school, Shuo Ye walked home alone.

The Uchiha Clan District was still empty. A year had passed, yet no one had come to repair it or clean it up. Weeds grew through the road, and rain had washed the color from the clan crests on the walls.

He walked slowly.

He passed a house—the front entrance was overgrown with weeds. It had once belonged to a distant aunt. During holidays, she would bring pastries over to visit his family. Her red bean cakes had been so sweet they made his teeth ache.

There were no red bean cakes at the door anymore.

Only a pile of dead grass.

Shuo Ye kept walking. When he reached his own door, he took out his key. He inserted it into the lock, turned it, and the door opened.

The house was very quiet. He closed the door and stood with his back against it for a while.

Then he went to the kitchen, washed some rice, and set the pot on the stove. The flames licked the bottom of the pot until it turned slightly black. He leaned against the counter and watched the flames dance.

Outside the window, the sky changed from orange to purple, then deep blue. The rice was done.

He served himself a bowl and sat in the hallway to eat. Beneath the hallway was a stone floor covered in a layer of dust.

He remembered the rice ball Ino had given him.

The tuna one.

It was not bad.

He finished eating, put away the bowl, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Hot water ran down his back as he pressed his forehead against the tiles and closed his eyes.

Today, he had not stared blankly into space.

Today, he had finished everything he needed to do—attend class, eat, practice taijutsu, cook, shower. There had been no pauses. No drifting thoughts.

He dried himself, changed into pajamas, and lay down on his bed.

A crack stretched from the corner of the wall across the ceiling, like a dried-up river.

He stared at that crack for a long time.

Until it was completely dark outside, until the chirping of insects squeezed in through the window gap.

He turned over.

Then tears began to flow silently.

He did not remember when he had started crying. Suddenly, his pillow was wet. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming.

A year ago, he had stood before the ruins and had not cried.

A year ago, he had buried his parents and had not cried.

A year ago, he had watched Sasuke's eyes become Sharingan and had not cried.

Now, lying in bed on the night of his eighth year, he cried for a full five minutes because of the words "tuna flavor."

Then he stopped, wiped his face with the blanket, and turned over.

He still had school tomorrow.

Ino would probably bring rice balls again tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he would have to put on that expression he had practiced for a year.

Shuo Ye closed his eyes.

Outside the window, the moon rose.

The autumn moon over the Hidden Leaf Village was huge, bathing the entire house in bright light. Moonlight fell across his face, illuminating the tear tracks at the corners of his eyes that had yet to dry.

He slept deeply.

He did not dream.