Chapter Text
The bell rings with almost aggressive sharpness, shattering the focused silence of the classroom. The metallic sound still vibrates in the air when several students already let out long sighs of relief. Chairs scrape lightly, pens roll across desks.
The teacher, still standing behind his desk, lifts his eyes toward the class with an expression that is half-tired, half-disapproving.
— “Alright… alright… It’s not as if you were really listening during the correction anyway… I’m going to hand back your tests.”
His voice is calm, but tinged with a slight reproach. He grabs a stack of papers neatly aligned on the corner of his desk, adjusts his glasses with the tip of his fingers, and begins walking between the rows.
In the third row, near the window, Hinata is discreetly playing with her pen. She spins it between her fingers, taps it against her paper, then grips it a little too tightly. Under the table, her legs swing nervously, rising and falling in a quick, uneven rhythm. Her gaze stays fixed straight ahead, but her thoughts collide with each other.
Her heart is beating fast.
Too fast.
Stressed… and yet strangely excited by the anticipation.
Next to her, Sakura watches her from the corner of her eye. She notices the tense fingers, the slightly clenched jaw, the foot tapping against the floor.
— “Stop stressing,” she whispers. “You always get good grades.”
Hinata blinks, as if pulled out of a fog.
— “I know, but…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence. Her fingers tighten even more around the pen.
I have to beat him.
The thought forces itself into her mind with almost burning clarity. It’s no longer just about getting a good grade. It’s about winning.
The teacher continues walking down the aisle. He places the papers one by one on the desks, sometimes accompanied by a brief comment a “Good,” a “Could do better,” or a neutral nod.
Sakura receives hers. She flips it over immediately, her eyes scanning the page.
Then it’s Hinata’s turn.
The paper is placed in front of her.
A fraction of a second of hesitation.
She grabs it quickly, almost abruptly, as if the sheet might disappear if she waits too long. Her eyes slide immediately to the upper-right corner.
99%.
Her breath catches.
Then a small smile, soft and almost radiant, stretches across her lips. It’s excellent. Almost perfect. A quiet pride swells in her chest.
Slowly, with a new confidence, she turns toward the back of the class. Sasuke is sitting just behind her. His dark hair falls slightly over his eyes, but his gaze is already lifted toward her, as if he knows exactly what she’s about to do.
Hinata shows him her paper, the smile restrained but obvious.
A silent challenge.
For a second, he doesn’t react.
Then, without a word, Sasuke tilts his head slightly and raises his own sheet.
100%.
Perfect.
His smile is faint. Almost imperceptible. But it’s there.
The warmth rising in Hinata’s chest has nothing to do with pride anymore. Her smile freezes. The world seems to stop for a moment as she feels her heart tighten.
She turns abruptly back toward the board.
I hate him.
— “Not too disappointed?”
Sasuke’s voice slides beside her in the still-noisy hallway. Students pour out of the classrooms in messy clusters, bursts of laughter echo, lockers slam shut.
— “It’s fine. You and I are just one point apart.”
She keeps her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her, as if the path of her steps requires all her concentration.
Sasuke turns his head slightly toward her.
— “One point apart… That must be frustrating, always being behind.”
He doesn’t truly smile. It would be easier if he openly mocked her. No. He’s stating it. As if he were announcing a mathematical truth.
Hinata’s shoulders tense almost imperceptibly.
Breathe.
She inhales slowly. The air feels too cold in her chest.
— “Do you always have to remind me?”
Her voice is controlled. Almost calm.
— “No. The numbers speak for me.”
The answer is immediate.
She stops for a fraction of a second, just long enough to shoot him a heavy, judgmental look. Her eyes shine with pure irritation.
— “Shut up, will you.”
She resumes walking, faster this time. Her footsteps echo more sharply on the tiled floor. Her bag bumps lightly against her hip with every stride.
At the end of the corridor, the crowd thins out. The walls are more austere, glass cases display trophies and photos of former students awarded in national competitions. A more formal silence settles in.
The engraved plaque “Principal’s Office” gleams under the light.
Hinata tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, straightens up, and knocks twice, firmly.
— “Come in!”
Hinata pushes the door open. A faint scent of paper and polished wood greets them. Sasuke enters behind her. The door closes softly.
They bow.
The office is large, organized with almost intimidating precision. A large bookshelf covers an entire wall, filled with academic works and neatly labeled binders. On the dark wooden desk, nothing unnecessary: a computer, an open planner, a pen perfectly aligned with the edge.
The principal studies them carefully.
— “We were told you wanted to see us?” asks Sasuke.
Hinata turns her head slightly toward him.
“Me”?
She frowns.
Since when would this concern only him?
She discreetly rolls her eyes.
The principal folds her hands.
— “Yes. I want to talk to you about the hackathon competition. More precisely… about Project Helix.”
The name changes the atmosphere.
Hinata feels a different kind of tension settle in. More serious. Heavier.
Project Helix is not an ordinary event. It’s a national-scale hackathon. Forty-eight hours without interruption. Solving a real technological problem proposed by a major partner company. Artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, energy optimization, depending on the edition.
The principal continues:
— “This year, the theme focuses on optimizing emergency medical networks using real-time predictive models. The school has been invited to send a team. Only one.”
The word hangs in the air.
— “The internal selection is based on your performance in algorithms, system development, and data management. Your records have been examined in detail.”
She pauses.
— “You are the two strongest profiles in your class.”
Silence.
— “You will form a pair.”
— “Together?” Hinata asks, unable to hide her surprise.
The principal nods.
— “The rules require teams of two. And objectively, you complement each other.”
Sasuke crosses his arms, thoughtful.
— “Complementary doesn’t mean compatible.”
The principal meets his gaze.
— “Project Helix also evaluates the ability to collaborate under pressure. Teams are observed continuously. Stress management, communication, leadership.”
Hinata feels a spark of internal irony.
Collaborate with him.
Work side by side for forty-eight hours.
Without sleeping.
The principal adds:
— “The finalist teams receive university scholarships and guaranteed internships with partner companies. Some recruit the winners directly.”
The stakes are clear.
This isn’t symbolic. It’s strategic for their future.
A dense silence settles.
The principal doesn’t give them time to exchange more.
— “This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”
The tone is sharp. Unambiguous.
A heavy silence falls over the office. Hinata and Sasuke exchange a brief glance.
The principal continues, unfazed:
— “Each month there will be an elimination round. Timed simulations, progressive technical challenges, and an oral defense before an external jury. I expect you to take this institution all the way to victory.”
She emphasizes the last word.
Victory.
— “The preparation sessions will be supervised by your main teacher until the final. Attendance is mandatory. And to be clear: training starts today, at six p.m.”
Hinata feels her stomach tighten.
Work with him?
Her gaze slowly shifts toward Sasuke.
No. Impossible.
Work side by side. Share a screen. Make decisions together.
She bows mechanically.
— “We’ll do our best,” Sasuke replies in a perfectly controlled tone.
Hinata says nothing. She bows in turn.
They leave the office.
The door closes behind them with a soft click that echoes louder than it should.
The hallway seems quieter than before. Afternoon light filters through the windows, stretching their shadows across the floor.
Hinata runs a nervous hand through her hair, pushing it back.
A nightmare.
— “Nightmare.”
Sasuke’s voice cuts through the silence.
Low enough to sound like it’s meant for himself.
Clear enough for her to hear it perfectly.
He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, then starts walking without waiting.
Hinata stops abruptly.
She stares at him.
— “Excuse me?” she says coldly.
He keeps walking, without turning around.
— “Forty-eight hours dealing with your stress and your perfectionism. Yes. A nightmare.”
He doesn’t raise his voice. He states it, once again.
Hinata’s cheeks flush slightly, but not from embarrassment from anger.
— “My perfectionism? At least I check my code instead of rushing in blindly.”
Sasuke finally stops. Turns toward her.
— “I don’t rush. I optimize in real time.”
— “You improvise.”
— “You overanalyze.”
The hallway is empty now. Their exchange echoes off the walls.
Hinata crosses her arms.
— “If you think I’m going to let you lead—”
— “Who said anything about leading?” he cuts in.
Silence.
They stare at each other.
Sasuke continues:
— “The principal wants results. Not an ego contest.”
Hinata clenches her teeth.
— “Easy to say when you’re always ahead.”
He steps closer. Not threatening. Just firm.
— “If you want to get ahead, prove it.”
The sentence lands exactly where it hurts.
He turns on his heel again.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Sakura is still holding the phone to her ear as she paces near the café’s large window.
— “Yes, Dad, I know… hm okay… yes, yes… alright, Dad, I have to go. Bye.”
She hangs up, stares at the dark screen a second too long, then turns the phone off. Her expression changes almost instantly: the slight tension in her shoulders disappears, replaced by a controlled smile.
She walks back to the table at the back of the covered terrace.
Temari is slouched in her chair, straw between her lips, spinning the ice cubes in her glass. Ino, meanwhile, is leaning forward, elbow on the table, clearly in the middle of a debate.
Sakura sits down across from them.
— “What did I miss?”
Temari lets out a long, theatrical sigh.
— “Nothing. Just Temari accusing me of being obsessed again.”
— “Because you are,” Temari replies without hesitation. “You’ve been talking about Sai for ten minutes.”
Ino rolls her eyes, but a slight smile betrays her amusement.
— “I’m not obsessed. I’m stating a fact. He texted me this morning.”
— “Three voice messages, two minutes each,” Temari corrects.
Sakura laughs softly.
— “You’ll understand when you have a suitor. You won’t stop thinking about him.”
Temari abruptly changes the subject.
— “Anyway. What did your dad want?”
The question seems harmless.
Sakura pauses for a microsecond.
— “Ah… just a small thing. It’s not important.”
She grabs her glass, takes a sip, avoids their gazes.
Temari watches her carefully.
Too carefully.
— “If you say so.”
The tone isn’t accusatory. Just skeptical.
Sakura scans the terrace, looking for a diversion.
— “Where’s Hinata?”
Ino opens her mouth to answer, but a voice cuts in:
— “I’m here.”
Hinata appears behind them and pulls a chair out. She sits down next to Sakura.
Ino frowns slightly.
— “Where were you?”
Hinata flashes a wide smile.
— “Nothing important…”
She props her cheek on her hand, elbow on the table, her posture falsely relaxed. Her gaze moves from Ino to Temari, then to Sakura.
— “Actually… I’m excited. But not too much. Well, maybe… I don’t know if I should tell you, but since it’s you guys… and anyway I’ll have to say it sooner or later and—”
— “Stop talking and tell us,” Ino cuts in, raising her hands.
Temari nods.
— “Yes, get to the point. You’re stressing us out.”
Hinata takes a breath.
— “I’m going to participate in the hackathon. Well… Project Helix. The principal told me this morning.”
Half a second of silence.
Then Ino explodes.
— “Oh my god! I’m so happy for you!”
She leans almost across the table, eyes shining.
Temari, more restrained, straightens up.
— “The global competition…? I’m surprised. It feels unreal. I don’t doubt your abilities, but the school has always declined the invitations before. That’s huge. Congratulations.”
Her voice is sincere. Even admiring.
Hinata feels a pleasant warmth rise to her cheeks.
— “Thank you…”
Beside her, Sakura stays silent a fraction of a second too long.
A sudden sensation crosses her chest.
Like a cold spike.
Why does it hurt?
She forces her lips into a smile.
Hinata is your friend. Be happy for her.
She gently places a hand on Hinata’s shoulder.
— “You really deserve it.”
Her voice is steady. No one could guess the turmoil behind it.
Hinata gives her a grateful smile.
— “Thanks, girls. Really.”
Ino suddenly frowns.
— “But you said you weren’t ‘that excited.’ Why? What’s happening to you is incredible!”
Hinata hesitates. She bites her lower lip.
— “I’m paired with Sasuke.”
The name alone is enough to change the energy around the table.
Temari raises an eyebrow.
Ino lets out a low whistle.
— “My luck is clearly misconfigured,” Hinata continues with bitter humor. “It’s going to be hell working with him. And on top of that… I have another family dinner tomorrow. With him.”
— “Again?” Ino repeats.
Hinata rolls her eyes.
— “Our families are close. We’re forced to see each other all the time.”
Temari lets a crooked smile appear.
— “Try to hide your excitement.”
Hinata sighs.
— “Seriously, it’s not funny.”
A brief silence settles.
Sakura lowers her gaze slightly to the table.
Why does it always have to be her and him… together?
She discreetly presses her fingers against her knee.
They may “hate” each other, but their families bring them together. The teachers pair them up. Competitions put them in the same team…
A more bitter thought crosses her mind.
And me? He doesn’t even spare me a glance.
She bites the inside of her cheek to silence that line of thought.
Ino, unaware of Sakura’s inner tension, continues:
— “Honestly, it could be a good thing. You’re the two best. That could make a great duo.”
— “Or a permanent war,” Temari corrects.
Hinata lets out a nervous laugh.
Sakura claps her hands softly, trying to ease the tension.
— “Alright. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”
Her tone is light. Almost too quick.
Ino doesn’t need to be asked twice.
— “Yeah, you’re right. For example, Sai he sent me—”
— “Oh no. Please. Not that again,” Temari cuts in, theatrically covering her ears.
Ino completely ignores her.
— “He sent me a message this morning. Not a simple ‘good morning.’ No. A real message. Thoughtful. With full sentences.”
Temari opens one eye.
— “Impressive. Did he use punctuation too?”
— “Very funny,” Ino replies, throwing her a dark look.
Sakura lets a small smile appear, grateful for the distraction. She leans back slightly in her chair.
— “What did it say?” she asks.
Ino straightens up, clearly delighted to have an audience.
— “He said he thinks I’m handling my projects ‘admirably well’ lately. Admirably. Can you imagine?”
Ino continues, eyes shining, completely absorbed in her analysis.
— “And the emoji wasn’t something obvious. It was subtle. You know the kind?”
Temari stares at her for a few seconds, then slowly sets her glass on the table.
— “You’re completely obsessed, poor thing.”
Ino opens her mouth, outraged.
— “I am not obsessed!”
— “Yes, you are,” Temari insists with almost clinical calm. “You’re dissecting an emoji like it’s a coded message from the secret services.”
Hinata stifles a laugh.
The bell rings.
Sakura glances at the clock hanging on the wall near the glass door.
— “Alright. Break’s over.”
She stands up, grabbing her bag, already looking focused on the rest of the day.
Temari finishes her drink calmly, sucks the last ice cube through the straw, then stands up as well.
— “Speak for yourself. I’m sitting next to her in class… and there’s no way she’s going to shut up.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The day had passed without any particular incident. Classes, note-taking, brief conversations in the hallways. On the surface, nothing unusual.
But at exactly six p.m., the atmosphere changes.
The computer lab is almost empty when Sasuke pushes the door open. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, steady glow. A faint smell of plastic warmed by the machines lingers in the air.
He stops for a fraction of a second.
Hinata is already there.
Sitting in front of a lit screen. A file open. Several tabs active.
Of course.
She always arrives early.
Sasuke walks in without a word and chooses a workstation a few rows behind her. He drops his bag on the neighboring chair, sits down, and turns on the computer. The fan starts with a soft mechanical hum.
The silence is sharp. Dense.
The only sound is the quiet tapping of keys under Hinata’s fingers.
Sasuke glances at her screen.
She’s already working on a simulation model. Clean structure. Precisely named variables.
He looks away and opens his own development environment.
A few minutes pass.
He clears his throat lightly.
The door opens abruptly.
— “Sorry for being late, but we can start now.”
The teacher enters, slightly out of breath, a bag slung over his shoulder. He drops it on the desk, pulls out a printed sheet, and adjusts his glasses.
— “Alright. To begin…”
He scans the room.
— “Sasuke, you can go sit next to Hinata.”
Silence.
Sasuke frowns slightly. Barely noticeable.
He doesn’t argue.
He calmly shuts down his station, waits for the screen to go black, logs out, grabs his bag, and stands up.
He stops beside Hinata’s desk.
She keeps her eyes on her screen, but her back stiffens slightly.
Sasuke sets his bag on the floor and sits down next to her.
Immediate proximity.
The space suddenly feels smaller.
The teacher continues:
— “From today on, you’ll work together every time. Full simulation of Project Helix conditions. Limited time. Collaborative problem solving. No isolated individual work.”
He places the sheet on the central desk.
— “First exercise: optimize a sorting algorithm for a massive medical database. You have one hour. Pair work is mandatory.”
The teacher steps away.
Silence.
Hinata stares at her screen.
— “I’ve already started structuring something.”
— “That’s useless if it’s not optimized,” Sasuke replies without looking at her.
She slowly turns her head toward him.
— “You haven’t even seen what I did.”
— “I know your method. Too many checks, too much safety.”
— “And you don’t have enough.”
He opens a new file without asking.
— “We’re starting from scratch.”
— “No.”
The word is sharp.
He stops.
— “Excuse me?”
— “I’m not deleting a functional base just because you think you can go faster.”
Sasuke finally looks at her.
— “We don’t need a ‘functional’ base. We need a performant one.”
— “Performant but unstable is useless.”
— “Unstable by your standards.”
— “No. Unstable by logic.”
Their voices rise slightly.
Their screens sit side by side, yet they’re already working separately.
Sasuke starts coding quickly.
Hinata presses her lips together and continues with her own model.
Two different strategies. Two different logics.
— “Your sorting algorithm is going to blow up the memory,” she says without looking away.
— “No.”
— “Yes.”
— “No.”
— “You didn’t even implement dynamic resource management.”
He sighs.
— “Because it slows things down.”
— “Because it prevents crashes.”
— “We’re talking about optimization.”
— “We’re talking about reliability.”
The teacher looks up from his desk, watching without intervening.
Sasuke stops typing.
— “If we do it your way, we lose time.”
— “If we do it yours, we might have to start over.”
Silence.
The cursor blinks.
After fifteen minutes, Sasuke runs a test.
Error.
His jaw tightens slightly.
Hinata glances quickly.
— “Memory saturation.”
— “I see.”
— “I warned you.”
He closes the window sharply.
— “Give me your code.”
— “No.”
He turns his head toward her, surprised.
— “We’re supposed to work together.”
— “Exactly. Not let you take everything and decide alone.”
A heavy silence settles between them.
Seriously… what is his problem?