Ino's eyes flashed with irritation the moment she caught the other students snickering at someone's poor performance. She didn't care about being the center of attention—she cared that they were laughing at him.
"What's so funny?" she snapped, her fist clenching. "Keep it up and I'll rearrange every face in this room."
The classroom went silent. Nervous glances flickered between students. Everyone knew better than to test Ino Yamanaka when she'd made a threat like that.
Meian watched the chaos unfold with mild amusement. He placed a hand on Ino's shoulder before she could storm over and make good on her promise. "It's fine. Let them laugh."
"But they're laughing at you," Ino protested, her voice sharp with indignation.
"And?" Meian's tone was matter-of-fact. "I'm not losing anything over it. Besides, with my performance today, being laughed at is expected."
Ino opened her mouth to argue, but Meian was already turning toward Hinata. "You're up next. Show them what you can do."
Hinata's pale eyes widened slightly. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she nodded. "Yes."
The kunai-throwing assessment should have been routine for someone with her precision—her Byakugan gave her an almost unfair advantage when it came to accuracy. But watching Meian encourage Hinata without offering her so much as a word of support made something hot and bitter coil in Ino's chest.
"You didn't cheer for me at all!" she burst out, her voice pitched between hurt and accusation. "You're being completely unfair, Meian!"
Meian didn't miss a beat. "You said you were going to show me how good you were, remember? I assumed you didn't need the extra motivation."
"But Hinata—" Ino started.
"Hinata needs encouragement so she stays confident," Meian finished smoothly. "That better?"
Ino crossed her arms, considering this. "...Fine. I forgive you."
Barely, her expression added.
Meian offered her a wry smile, though internally he was already regretting letting her sit next to him during assessments.
When Hinata stepped up to the throwing line, she moved with quiet precision. Each kunai left her fingertips with perfect control, each one striking dead center. When the instructor announced her score—perfect—there was no surprise on anyone's face. This was Hinata Hyūga. Perfection was her baseline.
As she walked back, Meian gave her a small smile. "Not bad. Exactly what I'd expect from you."
Hinata's blush deepened several shades. For the first time in ages, she held his gaze. "I... I did my best because you encouraged me."
Ino's eyes narrowed. "Hinata, didn't you score perfectly last time too? What does he have to do with anything?"
The color in Hinata's face reached near-crimson levels.
Meian placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't let her get to you. You were excellent."
It was a simple gesture—a pat on the shoulder, nothing more. But to Hinata, it felt like the whole world had shifted. She'd been thinking about the day he'd held her hand ever since it happened. That brief contact had left an impression deep enough that a simple touch now sent her pulse racing. She very nearly swayed on her feet.
Ino watched the entire exchange with growing displeasure. A knot of something uncomfortable—jealousy, perhaps, or possessiveness—tightened in her chest.
Nearby, Shikamaru and Chōji exchanged a look of mutual understanding. They'd both figured out what was happening with Ino weeks ago. The way she gravitated toward Meian, the way her entire demeanor shifted when he was in the room... it was obvious to anyone paying attention. They had to admit, the guy had some kind of magnetism. Even Ino Yamanaka, of all people, had fallen for it.
When Meian's turn came, his performance was... middling. Adequate, but unremarkable. The instructor's score reflected that plainly.
Meian accepted the result without visible reaction, but the moment he noticed Hinata and Ino's faces fall—genuine disappointment written across both of them—something in him softened despite his frustration.
"Seriously, you two need to stop looking at me like that," he said, more gently than he probably should have. "It's not a bad score."
Ino immediately tugged at his sleeve. "But you can do so much better! I know you're capable of—"
"That's enough," Meian cut her off, though not unkindly. "We don't need to analyze it."
Hinata's voice was soft as silk. "I believe you always perform at your best, Meian."
"Oh, so now he gets actual compliments?" Ino muttered, glaring sideways at Hinata. "You're so nice to her. Why do you keep treating me like I'm annoying?"
Meian couldn't help but smile despite himself. "Why did I ever encourage this girl to follow me around?"
The truth, though he'd never admit it out loud, was that he didn't entirely mind. Yes, Ino could be exhausting—her endless energy and competitive streak were a lot to manage. But there was something genuine about her that he found... not entirely unpleasant.
The moment the kunai assessment concluded, Meian was on his feet and moving toward the door.
Both girls looked up in surprise at his abrupt departure.
"Wait!" Ino scrambled after him, grabbing Hinata's hand and dragging her along. "Hinata, come on! He's definitely up to something. Nobody just bolts like that unless they're hiding something."
Ino had developed a theory: every time Meian left in a hurry, he was concealing something. Something that could get him expelled from the Academy, perhaps. And if that happened...
But when they reached the school gate, Meian had vanished.
Ino's shoulders slumped. "Damn it. He's too fast."
Hinata looked thoughtful rather than frustrated. She had a feeling—one born of instinct more than logic—that Meian deliberately didn't want to be followed this time.
"If he wanted us to know where he was going, he would have told us," Hinata said quietly. "Maybe we should respect that."
Ino stared at her like she'd sprouted a second head. "Hinata, are you feeling okay? What if he's gotten into real trouble? What if he's going to be expelled? You'll be devastated."
Hinata's face flushed crimson at the implication, but she held her ground. "So will you."
It wasn't a question. Hinata was no fool—she'd seen how Ino looked at Meian when she thought no one was watching. Even if they were only six years old, even if the standards of this world made such things complicated, the emotion was unmistakable.
Across the village, Meian had already used the Body Flicker Technique to distance himself from any potential followers. Now he stood on the grass beside the training pool in the back mountain, where Kakashi Hatake waited for him with characteristic patience.
"Sensei." Meian approached with a slight smile. "That mission must have been important if it kept you away for over a month."
Kakashi closed his little orange book and nodded. "It had its complications. How's your training progressed in my absence?"
"Steadily enough," Meian replied with a shrug.
Kakashi didn't press. He'd never been one to demand unnecessary details. "I acquired something useful while I was in the Hidden Mist Village—a Water Style technique that specializes in defense. I thought you might benefit from learning it."
"Water Style: Water Barrier," Kakashi continued, his visible eye crinkling slightly. "A B-rank jutsu. Quite effective against multiple elemental attacks. I copied it from one of their Jōnin."
Meian's interest sharpened immediately. He recalled seeing similar defensive techniques used to counter combined elemental assaults. "A defensive Water Style would be valuable. I could always use more versatility."
"Then pay attention," Kakashi said, already beginning to explain the intricate chakra flow patterns required for the technique. "The key is maintaining constant pressure at the point of impact while keeping the barrier's perimeter fluid..."
Meian listened with full concentration as Kakashi walked him through every detail, occasionally demonstrating the hand seals and the precise chakra control needed. By the time the sun began its descent toward the horizon, Meian had the theory down solid. The practical application would take weeks of training, but the foundation was sound.
This was their arrangement—stolen moments between missions, knowledge passed from mentor to student in the quiet spaces between the Academy's rigid structure and the wider world's demands. It was unconventional, perhaps even against regulations, but it worked.
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