Awakening in a different life

Pain. A dull, throbbing ache pressed against her skull, like a too-tight cage trapping something vast inside. Her very existence felt... compressed, forced into a frame too small to contain it.

Her eyes fluttered open. Above her, the wooden ceiling was bathed in soft morning light. The scent of old books and faintly floral shampoo lingered in the air. A desk cluttered with school supplies stood in the corner, next to a window overlooking Konoha's bustling streets. Everything was unfamiliar, yet her body recognized it.

Memories rushed in like a tidal wave.

Sakura Haruno.

The name slammed into her mind, suffocating and foreign. Her past life—her real life—had ended, and she had been reborn into the pink-haired kunoichi of Naruto's world. But the disgust that twisted in her gut wasn't from the shock of reincarnation. It was from the very thought of being Sakura.

Memories surfaced—pathetic, humiliating memories. Pleading for Sasuke's attention. Shrinking behind others in battle. Chasing after a boy who never even looked back. The thought alone made her stomach curl in revulsion.

That isn't me. That will never be me.

But then, a different thought flickered through her mind, one that sparked something deeper—something dangerous.

There was someone else here. Someone who could be the key to her future. A man who wasn't a blind idealist like Naruto, or an arrogant, emotionally stunted mess like Sasuke. He was a puzzle, and she had always been good at solving them.

Shikamaru Nara exists in this world.

Her pulse quickened. Shikamaru. He wasn't just another face in the crowd. His intelligence, his effortless cool, the way he moved like a lazy shadow but struck like a viper when provoked. He was the one person who intrigued her in ways no one else could.

And now, she had a life to live. A life where she wouldn't be the pathetic version of Sakura. She would become something new. Something lethal. Something elegant. And someone strong enough to capture Shikamaru's attention without resorting to childish desperation.

A slow, sharp smile curled her lips.

First step—get strong.