Inside the Ninja Academy classroom, the monotony of another lesson pressed heavily upon the air.
Iruka-sensei's voice droned on, steady but utterly lacking in life, as he recited details of literacy, history, and fundamentals.
His words floated like clouds, but to most of the younger generation, they carried no weight, no gravity strong enough to keep their minds engaged.
The sunlight streamed lazily through the half-open window, casting thin golden lines over the desks.
The atmosphere inside was one of lethargy, of stillness, of boredom settling thickly over the class.
At the back row, three figures had already surrendered to the soothing pull of sleep.
Gojo lay there, his small form relaxed yet dignified, leaning slightly against the desk, with a book covering his face as if it were a shield protecting him from the outside world.
His breathing was calm, his lips parted faintly, his chest rising and falling at a measured rhythm.
There was no tension in his posture; he was the very embodiment of peace, of serenity untouched by the world.
For him, Iruka's boring literacy class was less a lesson and more a lullaby, pulling him into a dreamscape where time no longer mattered.
Beside him, Shikamaru had also succumbed to slumber, his arms folded under his head, his expression carrying that familiar look of indifference.
If anyone glanced at him, they would see a boy so utterly unconcerned with life's noise that he almost seemed part of the wooden desk itself.
His sleep was natural, habitual—Shikamaru slept because to him, listening to pointless lessons was far too troublesome.
On Gojo's other side, Naruto too had nodded off, his messy blond hair falling slightly into his face, his snores soft but steady.
The trio together, lined in one row, looked like a group of rebels united against the tyranny of boredom.
They slept with such freedom that it was as if the rules of the academy no longer applied to them.
But the atmosphere was not so calm for those seated near them.
Beside Gojo, the young red-haired girl, Karin, sat rigidly upright in her chair, her crimson eyes fixed on him.
She wasn't paying the slightest attention to Iruka-sensei's monotonous voice or the lesson on literacy.
Her entire being was focused on the boy beside her. Her eyes softened as she studied him, her lips curving into a smile that she didn't even realize had formed.
To her, the sight of Gojo's peaceful sleeping face was something divine. His breathing, his calm aura, the gentleness of his features in repose—it all captivated her.
She was practically melting in her seat, her emotions overflowing, her heart hammering in her chest as though it would burst from sheer affection.
And then, unable to stop herself, Karin found her lips parting slightly, and soon enough, she was practically drooling over him.
Her expression was shameless, without restraint, without caution. She simply admired him, enchanted, lost in the simple act of watching him sleep.
On the other side of Gojo, another pair of eyes had also been stealing glances at him. Shizuka Uchiha sat with her posture proper, her composure firm.
Yet, even she could not resist looking toward Gojo again and again. Each time her gaze fell on him, her cold Uchiha expression softened, her eyes gentled, and something warm flickered in her chest.
She was not a girl who let her feelings be known easily, not one who yielded easily to emotions. But Gojo was different.
Seeing him so calm, so peaceful, asleep amidst the dullness of the classroom, stirred something within her that even she did not fully understand.
Her stern heart melted for a brief moment with every glance she stole at him.
But the warmth did not last long. When her gaze shifted slightly, she noticed Karin. The sight of Karin's shameless behavior, openly drooling over Gojo, was enough to make her blood boil.
Her eyes narrowed sharply, and a vein appeared on her forehead as irritation welled inside her.
How could this girl behave so indecently right next to him? Her fists clenched slightly under the desk, her foot itching to kick Karin hard and drag her away from his side.
The thought of it was strong, the impulse almost irresistible.
Yet Shizuka, with all her Uchiha pride and her desire not to disturb Gojo's sleep, suppressed her anger.
She held it down, keeping it from bursting forth, though the effort left her stiff and trembling with quiet rage.
Instead, she glared daggers at Karin, her sharp Uchiha eyes flashing with killing intent.
But Karin did not care. Karin was far too absorbed in watching Gojo.
To her, Shizuka's glare was like a passing breeze—it didn't matter, it didn't exist.
She ignored it entirely, her entire world narrowed down to the boy beside her. For Karin, nothing was more important than this moment, watching Gojo sleep.
Even the heated hostility radiating from Shizuka was meaningless when compared to the beauty of his calm expression.
In her heart, she decided that no glare, no opposition, no rivalry could stop her from admiring him.
On the other side of the room, Hinata Hyuga had been quietly observing, her pale lavender eyes blinking with innocent confusion.
She noticed Shizuka's frequent glances toward Gojo, Karin's shameless drooling, and the tension that seemed to be vibrating in the air between the two girls.
But Hinata, being the honest and straightforward girl she was, could not understand what was going on.
Her brow furrowed slightly, her lips parted, and finally, she turned toward the girls beside her. With her soft voice, she asked Ino and Sakura what was happening.
Ino and Sakura glanced at her, their expressions carrying the weight of understanding.
Hinata's innocent question, her genuine confusion, struck them deeply. They sighed together, exchanging a look, and then explained simply: "They're just looking at Gojo."
Hinata blinked. That was all? Her eyes widened slightly, and then she nodded softly. "Oh," she said, and just like that, she fell silent. To her, the matter seemed simple enough.
She accepted their explanation without further thought.
But Ino and Sakura did not share her innocence.
They both looked at Hinata's guileless expression, her wide eyes, her soft features, and sighed again.
To them, Hinata was like a pure rabbit—gentle, clueless, wandering amidst foxes and wolves without realizing the danger.
Compared to the cunning fox-like behavior of Karin and the fierce wolf-like determination of Shizuka, Hinata was a rabbit walking willingly into a predator's den.
As they thought this, their own emotions stirred. Ino and Sakura exchanged another glance, one that carried unspoken words.
They both knew, deep down, that Shizuka's sudden actions, her monopolization of Gojo, her silent yet forceful claim of him, were dangerous for their own desires.
Neither Ino nor Sakura were willing to give up so easily.
They might not be able to match Shizuka's strength, her power, her clan's pride, but when it came to matters of love, both of them carried a fire that refused to be extinguished.
Gojo was important to them—too important. And for his affection, they would do anything.
They would betray anyone. If it came down to it, even betraying each other was not out of the question.
That thought simmered within both of them. Their eyes sharpened, and their minds began to plan.
But at the surface, they did not show it. Instead, they both turned toward one another, smiled brightly, and laughed lightly as if nothing were wrong.
Their laughter rang out, casual and natural to anyone watching.
But beneath those smiles, beneath that laughter, both carried the same thought. They were plastic friends—pretending camaraderie, masking rivalry.
They would smile to each other's faces, but when it came to Gojo, they would act without hesitation.
They both knew it, and in that moment, they silently acknowledged each other as rivals.
Hinata, sitting beside them, tilted her head slightly, puzzled once more. She couldn't understand why Ino and Sakura were suddenly laughing.
Their behavior made no sense to her. Her innocent mind couldn't connect the dots of rivalry and love.
To her, it was all a mystery she wasn't meant to solve.
And so the strange atmosphere settled deeper. On one side, Karin drooled shamelessly.
On the other, Shizuka glared with silent rage. Ino and Sakura plotted behind smiles. Hinata sat in confusion.
And at the center of it all, Gojo slept soundly, utterly unaware of the storm brewing around him.
For those watching, it might have seemed comical, even absurd. But for the girls involved, every glance, every smile, every glare carried weight.
And thus, the classroom, under Iruka-sensei's monotonous lesson, became the stage for a silent war of hearts.
Shikamaru, unlike the other students in the classroom, had his eyes half-open. He wasn't truly asleep, nor was he truly awake.
He had mastered the art of pretending—pretending to nap, pretending to be uninterested, pretending to be uninvolved.
But in reality, his sharp, calculating mind picked up every single detail that was happening around him.
The tension between the girls, the way their eyes constantly flickered toward Gojo, the sharp yet suppressed hostility between Shizuka and Karin, the silent confusion on Hinata's innocent face, the hidden calculations behind Ino and Sakura's deceptively casual laughter—Shikamaru saw it all.
With a long and drawn-out sigh, he shifted his position slightly, letting his head fall back lazily onto his folded arms.
What a drag… he thought.
The scene was completely ridiculous to him. Here he was, in the middle of Iruka-sensei's monotonous lecture, a lecture that was supposed to be about literacy, writing practice, and the importance of communication for shinobi.
Yet the classroom had been turned into a silent battlefield of glances, emotions, suppressed jealousy, and quiet rivalry. And the cause of all of this chaos?
None other than Gojo, who was fast asleep beside him, his face half-covered with a book.
Shikamaru exhaled again, shaking his head internally. It was absurd.
How could the root of so much tension, so much silent conflict, be a boy who wasn't even conscious of what was happening? To Shikamaru, the irony was too much.
He muttered under his breath, too quietly for anyone to notice, "Unbelievable… the culprit behind all of this is snoring peacefully…"
Shikamaru's eyes darted toward Gojo again. The boy looked serene, like someone who had been blessed with peace in the middle of chaos.
The sharp contrast between the storm of emotions swirling around him and the stillness of his presence was so striking that Shikamaru couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.
This wasn't just a random situation—it was practically a case study in human behavior.
The way women were acting around Gojo, the way rivalries were born from thin air, the way alliances were shifting with unspoken agreements and hidden betrayals—it was all too clear.
Shikamaru rubbed his temple slowly. Troublesome… it's always women. It's always emotions. And now it's always Gojo too.
It wasn't just his usual laziness that made him think like this. Shikamaru's thoughts were deeply influenced by his own family.
His father, Nara Shikaku, was a brilliant man, one of the smartest strategists in the entire village.
Yet, despite his tactical genius, Shikaku behaved like a docile kitten whenever his wife raised her voice.
Shikamaru had grown up watching it. He had seen his mother dominate every argument, win every domestic dispute, and silence his father with nothing more than a glare.
It wasn't strategy, it wasn't ninjutsu—it was the sheer force of a woman's will.
And even the great Nara Shikaku, the mastermind of Konoha, bowed his head like a child in front of his wife.
To Shikamaru, this was proof enough. Dealing with women wasn't just troublesome—it was impossible.
It was an unending battle where logic and intelligence had no real use. That belief had sunk deep into his subconscious.
And now, looking around the classroom, seeing Karin drooling shamelessly, Shizuka fuming silently, Ino and Sakura scheming against each other while pretending to be friends, and Hinata looking lost in her innocence, Shikamaru was convinced.
"Women… are troublesome," he muttered again.
But then his gaze flickered back to Gojo. And that's when the thought struck him. Gojo didn't seem to struggle with women. In fact, he didn't even seem to try.
Yet, somehow, the girls all gravitated toward him. They were fighting among themselves for his attention, his affection, his presence.
Gojo didn't even have to lift a finger.
To Shikamaru, it was baffling. And in his half-lazy, half-curious state of mind, a strange idea crossed his head.
Could Gojo be… some kind of love saint?
The term sounded absurd, but it fit. A saint of love. A hidden master of romance and harem management.
That was the only explanation Shikamaru could come up with for why all of this was happening.
Gojo wasn't just lucky—he was skilled, perhaps even unknowingly.
He was like a natural-born harem leader, someone with instincts in love matters far beyond the comprehension of ordinary men.
For a brief moment, Shikamaru actually considered it.
He thought about asking Gojo for advice, about learning from this so-called love saint, about uncovering the secrets of how to deal with women without getting swallowed by their endless drama.
But just as quickly as the idea came, he dismissed it. He closed his eyes, exhaled heavily, and let the thought drift away.
No. Too troublesome. Way too troublesome.
He would rather keep his life simple. Find one woman in the future, marry her, settle down quietly, raise children, and live a peaceful life. That was his dream—not this chaotic nonsense.
He turned his head away from the battlefield of glances and emotions, returning to his quiet nap.
Beside him, Choji munched on his snacks, completely uninterested in the matters of love, jealousy, or rivalry.
To Choji, food was the ultimate priority.
Women, romance, rivalry—none of that mattered compared to the joy of eating.
His loyalty was to his stomach, and his mind was entirely occupied by the flavors of the chips in his hands.
On the other side, however, Kiba didn't look good. He seemed troubled, distracted, his brows furrowed with some unknown worry.
Even his usual loud, competitive personality was subdued as he sighed helplessly to himself.
Something was weighing on him, but he wasn't ready to share it with anyone.
And then, in the quietest corner of the classroom, Shino sat silently. His presence, as always, went unnoticed.
His expression was unreadable behind his dark glasses, but inside, his thoughts were not calm.
He looked around the classroom, watching everyone getting caught up in the drama surrounding Gojo, and an aggrieved feeling welled up within him.
Why… why does everyone always forget me? he thought bitterly.
Even now, when all the students had some role to play—whether it was rivalry, scheming, confusion, laziness, or even snacking—Shino remained invisible.
The girls didn't spare him a glance. The boys didn't bother involving him. Even the damn author seemed to overlook him.
Even the readers must have forgotten me, Shino thought in despair.
A sigh escaped him, heavy and quiet, carrying the weight of an unspoken sorrow. Was he doomed to forever be treated like a ghost? To exist in the story but never truly be seen?
It was unfair. Cruel. Painful.
He lowered his head slightly, hiding his expression even further behind the shadows of his hood.
And yet, despite his grief, Shino still gathered enough willpower to make one silent plea.
Dear readers… don't forget me. Please support the author, so that I can at least make a few more appearances in the future. Don't let me disappear entirely.
He sighed once more, heavier this time, before sinking back into silence.
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End of Chapter
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