Advanced Politics and Debate met in the oldest lecture hall on campus, the sort of building where every seat was scarred and the tiered rows bore silent witness to a hundred years of status games. Naruto arrived early out of habit, found his usual spot three rows from the front—Beta section, dead center, optimal for both hearing the lecture and staying out of direct fire from the Alpha block.
The lecture hall might as well have had painted lines. Front row: Alphas with their designer watches and sprawling limbs, each taking up the space of two people. Middle section: Betas with their color-coded notebooks and perfect posture, a sea of sensible haircuts. Hugging the walls: the handful of Omegas, fingers often brushing the exit doors, their mandatory silver bracelets glinting whenever they moved. The professor could lecture about equality all semester, but the invisible boundaries remained untouched, sacred as church pews on Sunday morning.
Naruto slouched, notebook open but blank, pen spinning between his fingers as he watched the morning's power plays unfold. The professor—old Beta, one of those rare ones whose career had peaked before the Registry made its own rules—paced the front with the restless energy of someone who'd survived four political purges and still believed in meritocracy. He started the lecture with a jab at contemporary legislation, then moved seamlessly into historical analogues, never pausing long enough for the students to catch their breath or check their feeds.
Naruto's pen gouged meaningless symbols across his notebook, pressing so hard the paper tore in places. His thoughts circled back to Sasuke—that unmistakable cedar-and-spice scent that both repelled and drew him closer, the way those dark eyes had pinned him against the wall the other day, making him feel simultaneously trapped and protected. He shifted in his seat, heat crawling up his neck even as his stomach twisted with dread. Maybe agreeing to this deal was the worst idea he'd ever had. Or maybe it was the only way he'd survive long enough to find Kurama.
Naruto's leg bounced under the desk, his teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper. Two days of silence stretched between him and Sasuke like a minefield. Every time he opened his mouth to say something—anything—the memory of Sasuke's face after the pheromone incident stopped him cold: guilt mixed with something darker, more possessive. Part of him wanted to throw the first punch of reconciliation, just to end this suffocating standoff. Another part whispered that speaking first meant admitting weakness, surrendering territory he couldn't afford to lose. His pencil snapped between his fingers. Shit.
The class slid by in increments of awkward coughs, shifting bodies, and the professor's crescendoing rants about the failings of modern governance. When the bell rang, the ritual played out in reverse: Alphas stood first, stretching and laughing a fraction too loud; Betas gathered their things with brisk, practiced efficiency; the Omegas hung back, letting the room empty before they risked the bottleneck at the door.
Naruto dawdled at his desk, dragging his pen across the page in random patterns. This was the last class of the day, and the thought of another silent standoff in their shared dorm made his skin itch. Only when the room had emptied did he finally stuff his notebook away and shoulder his backpack.
He nearly ran straight into Neji Hyuga, who stood blocking the row's only exit. The Alpha's presence was as understated as it was absolute—no words, just a slight narrowing of the eyes and a subtle shift to the left, enough to make it clear that Naruto would have to engage or else commit to a socially unacceptable vault over the desk.
Naruto hesitated, weighing the odds of an ambush. Neji's posture gave nothing away, but the set of his shoulders suggested that this was not a random encounter.
"Uzumaki," Neji said, voice so neutral it might have been generated by a text-to-speech app. "May I have a moment?"
Naruto shrugged, then realized he hadn't actually replied. "Uh, sure. What's up?"
They stood in the aisle, the lecture hall empty except for a janitorial cart and the hum of the overhead fluorescents. Neji's gaze flicked up and down the row, then settled on Naruto's face.
"I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. For my cousin." The words landed with a practiced, almost ceremonial weight. "She's not used to… public attention."
Naruto's stomach clenched; he forced a smile, but it felt counterfeit. "No big deal. Those guys were assholes. Someone had to say something."
Neji nodded once, the barest concession. "Nevertheless. It was appreciated."
A pause. Naruto wondered if he was supposed to bow, or accept a challenge to single combat, or what.
Neji seemed to sense the discomfort and pressed on, voice pitched just above a whisper. "You're not like the others. You don't defer to Alphas. Most Betas are trained out of it by the second year."
Naruto blinked. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
Neji's lips twitched. "An observation. You have an independent streak. It reminds me of someone."
A brief silence; Neji's eyes flicked sideways. "Kurama. I had several classes with him before he—before he stopped attending."
Naruto's pulse spiked. "You knew him?"
"Everyone knew Kurama," Neji said, voice softer now. "He made sure of it." He paused, as if filtering memories for the ones that mattered. "He had a talent for provoking the faculty, especially around issues of Registry policy. He wasn't afraid to call out the double standards. Even argued with Professor Orochimaru about the rights of unregistered Omegas. It was… entertaining, if sometimes reckless."
Naruto's fingers drummed involuntarily against the spiral of his notebook. "He never mentioned any of that."
Neji's gaze sharpened. "He also visited the medical building frequently. Said he had migraines, but the pattern was odd."
Naruto's thoughts whirred. "Did he ever talk about why? Or mention anyone he was meeting?"
Neji's eyes narrowed in thought before he shook his head. "We weren't close, but I observed the decline. Each week, more weight lost. Darker circles. Trembling hands when he thought no one was looking." He met Naruto's gaze directly. "The kind of deterioration that raises questions."
Naruto absorbed this, unsure how to respond. For a moment, the only sound was the whine of the lights overhead.
Neji broke the silence. "If you ever need anything—help, information, even just a witness—call me." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a business card, and slid it into Naruto's hand. The gesture was as precise as everything else about him.
Naruto stared at the card. It was thick, navy blue, stamped with the Hyuga family crest and a single phone number.
Neji's hand lingered on Naruto's shoulder for a heartbeat longer than custom allowed. "Take care of yourself," he said, then turned and left, each step measured and silent as a closing door.
Naruto stood alone in the lecture hall, staring at the business card as if it might suddenly animate and explain what the hell had just happened. For the first time since his brother vanished, he had a lead—however thin.
He let himself hope, just for a second, that it would be enough.
-
Naruto tore up the stairs to the third floor so fast he nearly flattened the student assistant taping up midterm schedules. He didn't even notice the hissed complaints as he rounded the corner and launched himself at the door to 327, half expecting it to stick like always and instead almost bowling himself headlong into the room.
The interior was dark save for the sickly blue glow of Sasuke's laptop. Sasuke sat at his desk with the posture of a gargoyle: elbows on the surface, hands steepled, the only movement a slow, methodical blink as he processed whatever was on the screen. He did not look up as Naruto entered, but there was a subtle shift—the tension in his shoulders went from coiled to supercoiled, like a wire about to snap.
Naruto didn't see it. He dropped his backpack with a slap and paced the length of the room, feet scuffing the industrial carpet as if it might ignite. He ran a hand through his hair, then again, and finally whirled on Sasuke, who still hadn't acknowledged him.
"I have a lead," Naruto announced, unable to keep the edge of triumph out of his voice. "There's a pattern. A real one. And it's not what you think."
Sasuke exhaled, slow and silent, then reached over to close his laptop. "I wasn't aware I was thinking anything," he said, voice flat as a dead heart monitor. He turned in the chair, black eyes finding Naruto and pinning him like a specimen on a slide. "Let's hear it."
Naruto's face split into a grin, his body practically vibrating with excitement. "It's Kurama—he was sick. Getting worse every week. And I know who saw it happening." He paused for dramatic effect. "Neji Hyuga. The cousin of that girl from yesterday." The name hung in the air between them. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Naruto rubbed his arms, goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips, but couldn't stop now. "According to Neji, Kurama would bail on seminars claiming migraines. Always headed straight to the medical building. Same pattern, over and over." His hands sketched shapes in the air, tracing the outline of his brother's decline. "Everyone else missed it—professors, classmates, everyone. But not Neji."
Sasuke's face gave nothing away, but his grip on the edge of the desk tightened until his knuckles blanched white. "And you just believe him."
Naruto's enthusiasm faltered for half a second, but he pushed forward. "Why wouldn't I? He's not like the other Alphas. I mean, he's uptight, but not a dick. He even gave me his number, said if I needed anything…" Naruto trailed off, searching for the card in his pocket, then holding it up as if it were proof of some impossible theorem. "He said Kurama was always arguing with the professors about the Registry, about Omega rights. He cared, you know?"
There was a pause. In the silence, you could hear the radiator's faint ticking, the building settling in on itself.
Sasuke's jaw moved, grinding out the next words. "You're a little too eager to trust him."
Naruto blinked, genuinely puzzled. "What's your problem? I just got the first real lead in months, and you're acting like it's a trap."
"Because it probably is," Sasuke replied, voice clipped. "Hyuga isn't being nice. He's paying off a debt. You helped his cousin, he helps you. Simple social math." He finally stood, folding his arms, the muscles in his neck tight as cables. "Alphas don't do charity."
Naruto's smile faded. "You don't know him."
"I know all of them," Sasuke shot back. "They're all the same."
Sasuke's words landed like a slap. Naruto's shoulders tensed as the excitement drained from his face, replaced by the memory of their argument two days ago. The silence between them since then—the careful choreography of avoiding each other's eyes over breakfast, the rigid politeness when they had to share the bathroom—all of it came rushing back. He'd been so caught up in his discovery that he'd forgotten they weren't even speaking.
Sasuke's eyes flickered with recognition, a momentary crack in his armor. He exhaled, shoulders dropping an inch as he sank onto his mattress. "This Hyuga," he said, voice deliberately casual, "you actually believe him?"
Naruto scoffed, but the wind had gone out of him. He tossed the business card onto his desk, then flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. The hope he'd carried up the stairs was still there, but now it buzzed inside his chest, restless and unsatisfied.
They sat in silence, the old tension pressing in from the corners of the room. Sasuke hovered near the window, arms folded, eyes fixed on some distant point outside. Naruto lay motionless, eyes open but unfocused, the business card a blue rectangle of accusation on his pillow.
Finally, Naruto spoke. "It's still a lead. And I'm going to check it out."
Sasuke turned, his expression unreadable. "I will go with."
Naruto propped himself up on one elbow. "Why? Afraid I'll get lost?"
"Afraid you'll get in over your head," Sasuke replied, the words almost soft.
Naruto glared, but the fight had drained out of him. He flopped back, letting the mattress swallow his arguments. "Fine. But if you slow me down, I'm ditching you."
Sasuke snorted, the closest he'd ever come to laughing. "You couldn't shake me if you tried."
Naruto sighed, closing his eyes. The knot between his shoulder blades loosened—not gone, just different, like a bruise changing colors. He wanted to say something about that night, the words bubbling up his throat before he swallowed them back down. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. Or sleeping Alphas. His fingers twitched against the bedspread, remembering the heat of Sasuke's skin, and he rolled to face the wall, grateful Sasuke couldn't see his face flush.