webAppInput

SceneIdQuery

myProfile

scene

query SceneIdQuery(
  $id: ID!
  $webAppInput: WebAppInput
) {
  myProfile(webAppInput: $webAppInput) {
    ...MyProfile_myProfile
    id
  }
  scene(id: $id) {
    ...Scene_scene
    ...SceneMedias_scene
    id
    order
    rating
    title
    seoTitle
    seoDescription
    isPublished
    isScheduled
    publishedAt
    content
    story {
      ...Story_story
      id
      isMine
      commentsAccess
    }
    prevScene {
      id
    }
    nextScene {
      id
    }
  }
}

fragment MyProfile_myProfile on User {
  id
  name
  email
  isAdmin
  hasEverPaid
  isEmailConfirmed
  isEmailNotificationEnabled
  isTelegramNotificationEnabled
  isTempPassword
  avatar
  cover
  about
  contacts
  support
  telegramId
  vkId
  availableLimits
  frozenLimits
  urlSlug
  topUpPackages {
    id
    price
    currency
    toBalanceLimits
    bonusLimits
    totalCreditedLimits
    USD
  }
  availablePaymentProviders
  aiGenerationCosts {
    plan {
      size
      cost
    }
    characterSuggest
    ideaExpand
    sceneWrite {
      length
      cost
    }
    mediaGenerate
    videoGenerate
  }
  activeGenerationJobs {
    id
    type
    status
    story {
      id
      authorTitle
    }
  }
}

fragment SceneMedias_scene on Scene {
  id
  story {
    id
  }
  mediaAttachments {
    id
    media {
      id
      type
      origin
      status
      previewSrc
      mediaSrc512: mediaSrc(size: 512)
      mediaSrc1024: mediaSrc(size: 1024)
      videoPosterSrc(size: 1024)
      generationError
      userPrompt
      finalPrompt
      rawPrompt
      activeGenerationJob {
        status
        currentStage
        id
      }
      mediaAttachments {
        id
        story {
          id
        }
        scene {
          id
        }
        character {
          id
        }
      }
      embeddedInScenes {
        id
      }
    }
  }
  sceneCharacterStates {
    id
    character {
      id
      name
    }
  }
}

fragment Scene_scene on Scene {
  id
  order
  displayOrder
  title
  rating
  isPublished
  isScheduled
  publishedAt
  minWaitersToPublish
  waitersCount
  readCount
  content
  story {
    id
    isMine
  }
}

fragment Story_story on Story {
  id
  title
  publicDescription
  type
  size
  narrativeType
  rating
  hasCharacters
  status
  isPublished
  isMine
  publishedAt
  likesCount
  favoritesCount
  displayDirection
  plotGenres
  settingGenres
  moods
  tropes
  displayContentWarnings
  sceneAtmospheres
  publishedStats {
    scenesCount
    wordsCount
  }
  author {
    id
    name
    urlSlug
    avatar
  }
  characters {
    id
    name
  }
  fandoms {
    id
    urlSlug
    translation {
      canonicalName
      id
    }
  }
  myState {
    isLiked
    isFavorited
    isWaiting
    id
  }
  lastPublishedScene {
    id
  }
}


The sterile environment of the Konoha hospital office stood in stark contrast to the dust and heat of the training ground where the events of earlier that day had transpired. Gaara sat perfectly still in the wooden chair opposite Sakura, his hands resting on his knees over the dark fabric of his Kazekage robes. The air in the room smelled of antiseptic and aged paper, a clinical sharpness that prickled at the back of his throat. He watched Sakura move behind her desk, her motions precise and practiced as she organized a series of medical charts. A few hours had passed since the incident at the training fields, yet the image of Naruto’s hollowed-out smile remained burned into his memory, a static, unyielding expression that lacked any hint of humanity.

Gaara studied Sakura’s face. She looked tired, the shadows beneath her eyes suggesting many sleepless nights, but her expression remained anchored in professional composure. He found it difficult to reconcile the woman before him—a healer dedicated to the preservation of life—with the knowledge that something fundamental was being stolen from one of their own right under their noses. "Sakura," he began, his voice low and measured, cutting through the rhythmic shuffling of documents. "I came here because of what I saw today. Naruto… he is not himself. He is operating with an efficiency that is both alien and alarming. He does not react to injury. He does not react to strain. It is as if he is a machine executing a programmed sequence."

Sakura paused, her fingers lingering on the edge of a thick folder. She looked up, her green eyes meeting his with a flicker of hesitation before she sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of her unspoken concerns. "I know, Gaara. I have been running tests for the past week, trying to find a physiological basis for this detachment. I wanted to believe it was just exhaustion, or perhaps some lingering side effect of the last mission, but the reality is becoming impossible to ignore."

She picked up a stack of papers and pulled one to the front, pointing to a series of analytical charts. "Look at these levels," she said, sliding the file across the desk toward him. "I checked his blood work immediately after the initial reports of his behavioral changes. Under normal circumstances, any shinobi undergoing such extreme physical training—especially with open lacerations—would show elevated levels of cortisol and markers of acute stress response. It is a biological necessity. The body screams when it is damaged; it demands rest. It requires the chemistry of resilience to heal."

Gaara leaned forward, his eyes scanning the data, though the technical terminology felt secondary to the chilling implication of what she was saying. "And you found nothing?"

"Nothing," she confirmed, her voice dipping into a whisper. "There is a complete absence of stress hormones. It is not just that he is suppressing his response; it is as if the biochemical pathway for stress has been surgically excised or suppressed by an external force. His body is repairing his tissues, but his mind remains in a state of absolute, synthetic equilibrium. Do you understand the implications? It is biologically impossible for a human brain to maintain such stability under this level of physical assault."

Gaara felt a cold sensation in the center of his chest. He remembered the blood, dark and sluggish, flowing from the wound on Naruto’s forearm earlier. Naruto hadn't flinched. He had continued his training with the same rhythmic, calculated intensity, his gaze unfocused, his movements devoid of the erratic spark that usually characterized his existence. It wasn't the silence of a man at peace; it was the silence of someone whose internal self had been hollowed out and replaced by a cold, efficient void. Remembering pain is part of what keeps us human, Gaara thought, the realization settling over him like a suffocating shroud. If that memory was stripped away, or denied access to the conscious mind, then what remained of the man he called his friend?

He watched Sakura’s hand as she pointed to a specific graph showing stagnant levels, her finger tracing the flat, horizontal line that represented Naruto’s lack of autonomic response. The precision of her movement underscored the gravity of the situation. Every action she took, every piece of data she gathered, seemed to tighten the net around a truth they were only beginning to grasp. The sterile room felt smaller, the walls constricting as the weight of the deception became clearer. As his eyes landed on the final page of the summary, a heavy, tabulated file highlighting the psychological profile of the phenomenon, Gaara finally comprehended the sheer, terrifying scope of the manipulation.

The sterile environment of the Konoha hospital office stood in stark contrast to the dust and heat of the training ground where the events of earlier that day had transpired. Gaara sat perfectly still in the wooden chair opposite Sakura, his hands resting on his knees over the dark fabric of his Kazekage robes. The air in the room smelled of antiseptic and aged paper, a clinical sharpness that prickled at the back of his throat. He watched Sakura move behind her desk, her motions precise and practiced as she organized a series of medical charts. A few hours had passed since the incident at the training fields, yet the image of Naruto’s hollowed-out smile remained burned into his memory, a static, unyielding expression that lacked any hint of humanity.

Gaara studied Sakura’s face. She looked tired, the shadows beneath her eyes suggesting many sleepless nights, but her expression remained anchored in professional composure. He found it difficult to reconcile the woman before him—a healer dedicated to the preservation of life—with the knowledge that something fundamental was being stolen from one of their own right under their noses. "Sakura," he began, his voice low and measured, cutting through the rhythmic shuffling of documents. "I came here because of what I saw today. Naruto… he is not himself. He is operating with an efficiency that is both alien and alarming. He does not react to injury. He does not react to strain. It is as if he is a machine executing a programmed sequence."

Sakura paused, her fingers lingering on the edge of a thick folder. She looked up, her green eyes meeting his with a flicker of hesitation before she sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of her unspoken concerns. "I know, Gaara. I have been running tests for the past week, trying to find a physiological basis for this detachment. I wanted to believe it was just exhaustion, or perhaps some lingering side effect of the last mission, but the reality is becoming impossible to ignore."

She picked up a stack of papers and pulled one to the front, pointing to a series of analytical charts. "Look at these levels," she said, sliding the file across the desk toward him. "I checked his blood work immediately after the initial reports of his behavioral changes. Under normal circumstances, any shinobi undergoing such extreme physical training—especially with open lacerations—would show elevated levels of cortisol and markers of acute stress response. It is a biological necessity. The body screams when it is damaged; it demands rest. It requires the chemistry of resilience to heal."

Gaara leaned forward, his eyes scanning the data, though the technical terminology felt secondary to the chilling implication of what she was saying. "And you found nothing?"

"Nothing," she confirmed, her voice dipping into a whisper. "There is a complete absence of stress hormones. It is not just that he is suppressing his response; it is as if the biochemical pathway for stress has been surgically excised or suppressed by an external force. His body is repairing his tissues, but his mind remains in a state of absolute, synthetic equilibrium. Do you understand the implications? It is biologically impossible for a human brain to maintain such stability under this level of physical assault."

Gaara felt a cold sensation in the center of his chest. He remembered the blood, dark and sluggish, flowing from the wound on Naruto’s forearm earlier. Naruto hadn't flinched. He had continued his training with the same rhythmic, calculated intensity, his gaze unfocused, his movements devoid of the erratic spark that usually characterized his existence. It wasn't the silence of a man at peace; it was the silence of someone whose internal self had been hollowed out and replaced by a cold, efficient void. Remembering pain is part of what keeps us human, Gaara thought, the realization settling over him like a suffocating shroud. If that memory was stripped away, or denied access to the conscious mind, then what remained of the man he called his friend?

He watched Sakura’s hand as she pointed to a specific graph showing stagnant levels, her finger tracing the flat, horizontal line that represented Naruto’s lack of autonomic response. The precision of her movement underscored the gravity of the situation. Every action she took, every piece of data she gathered, seemed to tighten the net around a truth they were only beginning to grasp. The sterile room felt smaller, the walls constricting as the weight of the deception became clearer. As his eyes landed on the final page of the summary, a heavy, tabulated file highlighting the psychological profile of the phenomenon, Gaara finally comprehended the sheer, terrifying scope of the manipulation. «The Forgotten Pain», part 2. Fanfiction — Naruto.

A Medical Discrepancy. The Forgotten Pain — Naruto fanfiction | Fanfica

A Medical Discrepancy

Hidden Leaf

After the war, Gaara notices something wrong with Naruto's relentless optimism. The darkness that once defined him is gone—erased by a forbidden jutsu that slowly strips away his painful memories. But without the pain, Naruto is losing his humanity. Gaara must convince him to remember the trauma that shaped him, even if it breaks the fragile peace. Can he save his friend before Naruto becomes a hollow shell?

The Forgotten Pain — A Medical Discrepancy

Part 2: A Medical Discrepancy