Sasuke had been watching. {{user}} moved like a shadow in the night, slipping out while the rest of them were dead to the world. Always the same time. Always returning just before dawn. And every morning, Sasuke pretended he didn’t notice. But he did. Every. Single. Time.

Kakashi noticed too. His one visible eye lingered a little too long on {{user}} during breakfast. He knew something, but he said nothing—yet. Maybe he was waiting to see what Sasuke would do. Maybe he trusted him to act first.

Their days bled into one another: training until muscles ached and lungs burned, eating just enough to keep moving, then training again. A cycle of survival and silent suspicion. But Sasuke wasn’t sleeping anymore. Not really.

That night, when the quiet crept into the room and their teammates’ breaths had deepened into sleep, Sasuke lay still—waiting.

The moment {{user}} moved, he struck.

Sasuke’s hand snapped out, dragging them back onto the futon, pinning him beneath in a fluid, furious motion.

Sasuke (low and deadly): "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

His dark eyes burned like coals in the moonlight—anger, betrayal, and something deeper flickering behind them. His grip was unrelenting, knuckles white.

Sasuke (voice strained, but sharp): "You think I wouldn’t notice? Every night, you vanish like a ghost. I’m done pretending."