The next morning, the dorm room stank of stale sweat and unspoken questions. Sasuke was up early, already in uniform, pacing the four feet of carpet between his bed and the window. He moved like a cat in a cage—restless, calculating, wearing a path into the cheap fiberboard. Naruto, meanwhile, slouched on his own mattress, knees drawn up, phone bouncing from palm to palm as he scrolled through the same three screens for the tenth time.
"You're going to wear out the battery," Sasuke said, not bothering to look up. He was on his third circuit, hands locked behind his back like a cartoon villain.
Naruto thumbed the power button, face twisting. "Didn't know you cared about my phone. Or is this just the new version of 'stop breathing so loud'?"
"I care that you're not focusing," Sasuke said, pausing only long enough to glare at Naruto over his shoulder. "If you screw up the timing, we won't get another shot."
Naruto tucked the phone under his thigh, as if hiding the evidence. "I'll be fine." His eyes flicked to the digital clock on Sasuke's desk. "I'm just saying, maybe we don't need to overthink it. I get a headache, you do the rest. Classic misdirection."
Sasuke snorted, resuming his pace. "You're a terrible liar."
It was, technically, a compliment: up until now, Naruto's defining trait had been brutal, compulsive honesty. If he was sad, you knew. If he was mad, the whole building knew.
"I can be convincing," Naruto protested, though the words were mostly directed at the patch of ceiling above his head. "People fake headaches all the time."
Sasuke paused mid-stride, eyebrows raised. "Have you ever actually skipped class before?" When Naruto's eyes darted away, he scoffed. "That's what I thought. You think you can suddenly pull off sick?"
Naruto sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I'll do what I have to." He said it with the same conviction he used for all his worst ideas. "You want a rehearsal or something?"
Sasuke hesitated—either because he was tempted or, more likely, because he'd never considered that Naruto could improvise under pressure. "Let's see it," he said finally.
Naruto exhaled, then clamped both hands to his forehead. "Ah, my brain!" he intoned, voice pitched for the nosebleeds. "It's like a thousand hammers—no, a million—" He peeked through his fingers at Sasuke. "Too much?"
The corner of Sasuke's mouth twitched upward before he caught himself, schooling his features back into their usual mask of indifference. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You sound like you're auditioning for a children's cartoon. Tone it down."
Naruto reset. This time, he slouched deeper, squinting one eye shut and letting his mouth droop at the corner. "I don't feel good," he muttered, voice raspy. "Can I go to the nurse?" He sniffed, for effect, then faked a swallow.
Sasuke watched, head tilted. "Better. Still not credible. You sound like you're faking the flu, not a migraine."
Naruto rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to puke, too? Because I can puke. Just point me at your shoes."
Sasuke actually smiled—barely, but it was there. "Save that for plan B."
The room went quiet, the only sound the click of the radiator and the distant echo of doors slamming up and down the hallway. Naruto grabbed a hoodie and tugged it over his head, letting the sleeves dangle. His fingers drummed a nervous tattoo against his leg.
"This is your lead," Sasuke said, suddenly serious. "Your contact. Your risk." He paused, watching Naruto's fingers still. "If Neji's information about Kurama's medical visits turns out to be wrong, it's on you. If we get caught, it's on you. I hope you understand what you're dragging us into."
Naruto's chin dipped once, muscles tightening along his jawline. Sasuke could glare all he wanted with those dark Alpha eyes. This thread led to Kurama, and Naruto would follow it straight into hell if he had to.
Naruto zipped up his hoodie, then, as an afterthought, fished the battered mint tin from his backpack. He flicked it open and dry-swallowed one of the blue suppressants, the tablet scraping along his throat as it went down.
Sasuke noticed, but didn't comment. He just watched as Naruto put the tin away, face unreadable. "You ready?"
"No," Naruto said, but he stood anyway. "Let's get it over with."
-
In the lobby, the receptionist barely looked up as they entered. The desk was manned by a Beta, hair in a severe bun, fingers tapping at a screen with mechanical precision. She didn't register their existence until Sasuke nudged Naruto forward, a little too hard.
Naruto approached the desk, clutching his head and weaving slightly, just as they'd rehearsed.
The Beta looked up, eyes narrowing. "Do you have an appointment?"
Naruto let his eyes glaze. "No. Migraine. Really bad." He gestured to his temples, then winced theatrically. "I think I need to lie down."
The Beta eyed him, skepticism warring with protocol. After a second, she sighed and checked the schedule. "Wait here. I'll see if someone can fit you in."
Naruto slouched into the nearest chair, heart hammering. He could see Sasuke drifting away from the desk, slow and casual, just another student killing time.
After a minute, a young intern in a starched lab coat appeared, silver-rimmed glasses perched on a long, narrow nose. His name tag read "Yakushi," and he smiled too wide for a medical professional.
"You the migraine?" he asked, voice a little too eager.
Naruto nodded, forcing a grimace.
"Come on back," Yakushi said, gesturing down the hallway. "We'll get you sorted."
Naruto shot Sasuke a quick glance. Sasuke nodded, barely perceptible, then peeled off in the opposite direction as Naruto followed Yakushi toward the exam rooms.
The medical wing was built for efficiency and denial. Naruto followed Yakushi down the corridor, squinting at the glare from the lights, every surface an aggressive white, clean to the point of hostility. The walls were plastered with posters about vaccine drives and "responsible pheromone hygiene," each adorned with a stock photo of a Beta nurse beaming at the viewer like a warning.
Yakushi led the way, shoes squeaking on the vinyl. "You said the pain was sudden onset, right?" he asked without turning around.
"Uh. Yeah," Naruto replied. "Like, right behind my eyes." He squeezed his temples for emphasis.
"Any prior history? Migraines, tension headaches, head injuries?"
Naruto struggled to improvise. "Just regular headaches. Sometimes if I skip breakfast."
Yakushi hummed. "Are you sensitive to light, noise?"
Naruto nodded, glancing sidelong at a passing cart of sample tubes. "It's pretty bad."
They reached an exam room, and Yakushi gestured him inside. "You can sit on the table," he said, already pulling a rolling stool close and flipping open a slim tablet.
The room was barely bigger than a phone booth. The exam table was covered in a crisp rectangle of paper, the pillow so fresh it still showed the lines from the packaging. Naruto hopped up, instantly regretted the rustle of the paper as his weight hit it, and tried to look as miserable as possible.
Yakushi's demeanor was professional, but there was something off about his presence—his eyes, behind the gleam of his glasses, flickered to Naruto's neck, then his hands, then his face in a rapid scan. He smiled with too many teeth.
"Let's get some basics out of the way." Yakushi's fingers flew over the tablet, then he looked up. "Full name, date of birth, student ID."
Naruto rattled off his student ID number, hesitating before each digit as though the truth itself might somehow betray him, then gave his real birth date while his stomach knotted with the question of how much honesty was too much.
Yakushi barely blinked. "And secondary gender?"
Naruto's pulse tripped, his mouth going dry. "Beta," he said, the lie sticking like sand in his throat. He swallowed hard, then added, "No complications," while his fingers twitched against his thigh, betraying the war between self-preservation and the exhaustion of constant deception.
The intern's voice took on an edge. "Any family history of secondary-gender-related disorders? Omega registry flags? Alphas with rut management issues?"
Naruto shrugged, gaze dropping to the floor tiles. "I don't know."
Yakushi's pen stilled mid-note. "You don't know your family medical history?"
"Foster system." Naruto swallowed hard before continuing. "Bounced around a lot." He looked down at his hands, surprised to find his fingers had curled into fists against his thighs.
Yakushi's glasses caught the fluorescent light as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Something flickered across his face—a microexpression of interest, quickly masked. His pen tapped twice against his clipboard. "Foster system," he repeated, voice softening to a tone that didn't match the sudden intensity of his gaze. "No consistent medical records, then. No family to consult."
A cold trickle ran down Naruto's spine. His toes curled inside his shoes, ready to push off the exam table and bolt. The door was five steps away. Maybe four if he lunged.
Yakushi's tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "Certain rare recessive traits can present as headaches in young adulthood. Without family history, we should be extra cautious. Some conditions..." he trailed off, eyes gleaming, "...well, they require specialized treatment."
Just a little longer, Naruto told himself. Sasuke needs time. He forced his shoulders to relax while his fingernails dug half-moons into his palms. "Like what?"
Yakushi leaned forward, his lab coat rustling. "Some Betas—very rarely—develop latent Omega traits. Sometimes even years after puberty." His voice remained clinical, but his eyes glittered like wet glass.
Naruto's stomach dropped. Every instinct screamed to run. Instead, he gripped the paper-covered exam table, the crinkle beneath his fingers impossibly loud. Too late to back out now. Too suspicious to leave.
"I really don't think that's it," he managed, throat dry.
"Sometimes," Yakushi's smile appeared and disappeared like a shark fin breaking water, "neither do they." He reached for a penlight. "Let's check your pupils, just to be thorough."
He clicked on a penlight and gestured for Naruto to follow his finger. Naruto did, but the examination was perfunctory—Yakushi's real focus was on his neck, his wrists, anywhere there might be a scent gland.
"Any nausea? Dizziness?"
"No, just the pain," Naruto said, voice as neutral as he could manage.
Yakushi set the pen down and folded his hands. "Have you been under unusual stress lately? Exams, relationship issues, maybe trouble with your roommates?" There was a practiced casualness in the way he said it, but the implication was obvious.
Naruto's throat tightened. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
Yakushi let the silence stretch. "Sometimes, those triggers can exacerbate a latent secondary expression. You'd be surprised how many Betas we see with symptoms just like yours." He leaned forward, his stool wheels squeaking against the linoleum as he closed the gap between them.
Naruto inched backward on the exam table, the paper crinkling loudly beneath him until his spine pressed against the wall. "I'm just here for a headache," he lied, gripping the edge of the table.
Yakushi's hand came to rest on the exam table, inches from Naruto's knee. "A headache," he replied, voice slick as antiseptic. "That is how it all starts," His glasses flashed white as he tilted his head, the glare drilling into Naruto's retinas. A real throb started behind Naruto's left eye.
Naruto shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples where pressure was building like a vise. The fluorescent lights suddenly seemed too bright, pulsing in time with his quickening heartbeat. "I just want to get through class without feeling like someone's hammering a nail into my brain. Like right now."
"Of course," Yakushi repeated, leaning closer. His cologne—chemical and too sweet—made Naruto's stomach lurch. "We can do a quick blood test. Rule out infection or hormone imbalance."
Naruto stiffened. "Not necessary. It'll probably clear up on its own."
Yakushi's eyes glinted. "Just a finger prick. Won't take a second."
"I'm not a fan of needles," Naruto said. "Plus, the pain's already fading."
Yakushi's head tilted at an unnatural angle, like a bird of prey calculating distance to strike. His glasses caught the fluorescent light, momentarily hiding his eyes before revealing them again—fixed on Naruto's throat, then flicking to his hairline where beads of sweat had formed. One latex-covered finger reached out, not quite touching Naruto's wrist where his pulse visibly hammered beneath thin skin. Yakushi's lips curled upward as he leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed Naruto's ear. "Fascinating how the body betrays us," he whispered, the words barely disturbing the air between them. "Always honest, even when we lie."
Naruto's sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as he shifted his weight forward, but before he could push off the table, Yakushi's arm shot out. The metal tray rattled as it slid between them. Yakushi's fingers disappeared into blue latex with twin snaps that ricocheted off the walls, making Naruto flinch.
"I really don't—" Naruto's voice caught in his throat as Yakushi tore open a small foil packet, the sharp tang of alcohol hitting his nostrils before the cotton swab even appeared.
"You'd be doing yourself a favor," Yakushi said, tone cheerful, but his posture blocked the only exit. "The Registry likes to keep their data up to date."
The word hit Naruto like a punch. Registry. His mind raced through escape routes—window too small, door blocked, could he fake a seizure? Claim a bathroom emergency? Knock over the tray and run? Each option flashed and died in microseconds. Maybe if he screamed, someone would come, but then everyone would know, and knowing meant reporting, and reporting meant—
Yakushi approached with the lancet, hand steady. "I'll just take a tiny sample. You won't even feel it."
Naruto's skin crawled like ants marching beneath the surface. He shifted his weight backward, the exam table's edge digging into his thighs as he sank into a half-crouch. His right foot slid forward, toes curling inside his sneaker, calculating the distance to Yakushi's kneecap. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. "Actually, my—my religion forbids—" The lie died on his tongue. "I pass out at the sight of blood," he whispered, gaze fixed on the glinting metal point hovering near his fingertip.
Yakushi's breath warmed Naruto's fingertip. "Hold still."
The exam room shrank to the size of a needle point. Naruto's pulse hammered against his throat like something trapped, desperate to break free. His vision tunneled until all he could see was the silver glint catching fluorescent light, suspended above his skin. His tongue tasted copper. One drop of blood, and he'd become a file, a barcode, a missing person flyer taped to a lamppost like the one he'd made for Kurama. His right leg trembled, heel lifting off the floor, toes curling inside his sneaker. The door might as well have been across an ocean.