Sakura opened the note with a raised brow, her fingers brushing the seal pressed into the corner of the parchment. Gensai's handwriting was distinct—angular, deliberate, as if every stroke held purpose. The message was simple:
> "Come to my home this evening. There are things we must discuss. And a path I hope to open, if you wish to walk it."
She read it twice before tucking it into her pouch. It had only been a few days since their first real conversation, and yet the idea of learning something outside the ordinary churned beneath her ribs like a second heartbeat.
After school, she found herself making the detour that led toward the outskirts of Konoha. She hesitated at the threshold of Gensai's home—a modest dwelling built with clean lines, its windows framed with curious, softly humming inscriptions. He met her at the door, bowing slightly as he stepped aside.
"You've come. Good."
Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of pressed ink and burned cedar. His home was filled with scrolls and books, meticulously organized, though there was no clutter. Everything had its place.
"Before we begin," Sakura said, clasping her hands behind her back, "I need to ask something. You're not my official instructor. If we're going to do this seriously, I think it's only right that you meet my parents. And Kakashi-sensei, too. They deserve to know who you are."
Gensai tilted his head, considering. "That is reasonable. Especially since you'll be walking between two different ways of learning. We'll meet them. But first…"
He gestured toward a long table covered in what looked like wooden tiles etched with tiny symbols.
"Let me show you what it is I intend to teach."
Sakura leaned in, inspecting the tiles. "Are these seals?"
"They are," he said, "but not the kind you've seen before. Most fūinjutsu in this village is written on paper or stone. Mine is written in air, in intention, in logic. You'll find that many of the concepts parallel programming languages—though that might not mean much to you yet."
He picked up a tile and tapped it once. Light flared along its surface, lines glowing briefly before dimming again.
"This is a command—structured thought bound into a seal. What you will learn is not just technique, but structure. Pattern. Intention and design. It's not about raw strength, but clarity of purpose."
Sakura frowned. "And what do you want from me?"
Gensai paused.
"Not obedience," he said at last. "Not even loyalty. Just curiosity. A willingness to think, and to rethink. I'm not here to mold you into a weapon. I'm here to give you tools. What you build is yours."
The weight of his words settled over her. She looked at the tile again, then nodded.
"I'll set up the meetings."
---
Later That Evening
Sakura sat at the dinner table with her parents, trying to explain it all. Her mother listened with a pinched expression. Her father looked mildly bemused.
"He's not a shinobi?" her mother asked.
"He was," Sakura replied. "Sort of. He doesn't fight the way most ninja do. He's… different. But smart. Like, really smart. He thinks in ways I've never seen before."
"And what does he want with you?" her father added.
Sakura flushed. "To teach me. Because I asked."
A beat of silence followed.
Finally, her father set his chopsticks down. "If this is something you want, then we should meet him. We just want to understand what kind of man he is."
---
The Following Morning
Kakashi glanced down at the request scroll handed to him by Sakura. He raised an eyebrow.
"Gensai?" he asked.
"You've heard of him?"
"I've heard Shikaku mention the name. Quiet type. Keeps to himself. Writes like he's carving into stone. Strange philosophy about 'weight,' if I remember right."
"He wants to teach me."
Kakashi looked up at her, his visible eye unreadable.
"You sure you're ready for something like that?"
Sakura's jaw tightened. "Yes."
After a pause, Kakashi nodded. "Then let's meet him. I'd like to know who's stealing my student."
Sakura smiled despite herself. "Borrowing."
---
That Night
Gensai stood on his porch, watching the village lights shimmer in the distance. Inside, a new scroll lay open, Sakura's name etched into its surface with care.
He did not teach like other men. He knew that.
But perhaps that was why they came to him.