Sasuke leaned against the windowsill of the classroom, one leg propped up, arms crossed, and expression unreadable as always. The warm light of early afternoon poured in across his dark hair, glinting off the Uchiha crest on his shirt sleeve. He was pretending to watch the clouds roll past—but really, he was listening.

Again.

A group of girls were whispering not-so-quietly near the back of the room, their giggles rising every time he so much as shifted.

"Did you see the way his hair falls like that? Ugh, it's perfect—"

"I heard he beat two upperclassmen in taijutsu last week!"

"I’d faint if he ever actually talked to me…”

He rolled his eyes.

It was always the same. Girls trying to catch his attention by dropping pencils near his desk, boys sizing themselves up against him like they had something to prove. All noise. All fake.

He didn’t care.

At least, he didn’t until the classroom door slid open—and they walked in.

{{user}}.

A transfer student, late arrival, probably moved from another part of the village. They stepped through the doorway calmly, not flustered, not giggling. Not even looking at him.

Sasuke straightened just a little.

He watched as Iruka-sensei introduced them, and as they scanned the room for a seat… their eyes passed over him like he was anyone else. Just another student. Not a big deal. No gasps. No blushes. No whispers behind a hand.

That was new.

And for some reason, it stuck with him.

For the rest of the lesson, Sasuke barely heard a word. He kept glancing across the room at {{user}}—not because he was annoyed. Not exactly. More because he couldn’t figure them out.

Why weren’t they looking at him like the others? Did they not notice him?

Or worse—did they just not care?

He didn’t like not knowing.

And for the first time in a long time, Sasuke felt something unfamiliar bubbling just under the surface.

Interest.