Karin walked at the very back, clutching the hem of her clothes with both hands, her heart pounding as though it might leap out of her chest.
Her gaze kept drifting into the distance before darting back, an unnatural flush already spreading across her cheeks.
Three years.
She still kept the photo collection Miki Yūya had shot in the Land of Snow three years ago hidden beneath her pillow.
In those photos, the man stood amid swirling snow, his short black hair slightly tousled by the wind. His gaze was cool and profound, as though he were some being that did not belong to this world.
That face-sharp features, prominent brow, thin lips pressed lightly together-every inch seemed like a masterpiece painstakingly sculpted by heaven.
Almost every night, she secretly took it out to look at it. Even the edges had worn fuzzy.
"Hey, Karin."
Suigetsu suddenly looked back, his face full of mischief.
"Why's your face so red? You haven't got a fever, have you?"
"N-no!"
Karin jerked her face away, her voice so shrill it nearly cracked.
Sasuke paused and glanced sideways at her, a trace of understanding in his eyes.
Of course he knew why.
Back at Orochimaru's base, Sasuke had once stumbled upon Karin hiding in a corner, furtively leafing through a magazine.
He had intended to ignore her, but happened to catch sight of the man on its cover-Miki Yūya.
"You know him too?"
Sasuke had asked casually at the time.
Karin had been so startled she nearly flung the magazine away, stammering:
"Y-you know him too?"
That had been their first conversation about anything besides replenishing chakra.
Sasuke knew Miki Yūya was an extraordinarily unusual person.
His talent was terrifying-supposedly, his body held potential far beyond that of ordinary ninja, and his aptitude for