The Cold Between Wars ( Naruto OC )

[TheSoulFrost]

---



In a small clearing near the Academy, a ring had been scratched into the packed dirt for sparring. Young students circled the boundary in a loose crowd, whispering and watching. Two teachers stood to the side—one acting as referee, the other observing in silence—while, at the center of the ring, two boys faced each other.



The blond-haired boy wore a simple shirt and shorts, his posture light, knees loose, ready to spring. The dark-haired boy stood in a loose kimono, sleeves shifting as he raised his arms in guard, black eyes fixed with an intensity that made the air feel tighter.



"Alright, you two," the instructor said. "Salute each other."



They lifted their right hands and formed the Seal of Confrontation.



"Ready…"



The blond crouched slightly, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. The boy in the kimono didn't lower himself at all—he only tightened, like a drawn bow.



"…Go!"



The kimono-clad boy moved first, dashing forward before the last syllable had properly left the teacher's mouth. In an instant he was in front of his opponent, fist driving toward his chin.



The blond ducked low, the punch grazing his hair, and swept a leg out to trip him.



The sweep landed and the kimono boy's footing vanished—but he didn't panic. As he fell, he caught his opponent by the shoulder and used the grip to pivot, rolling over him in a smooth, practiced motion.



He landed an inch from the ring's edge.



Too close.



Without wasting a heartbeat, he hauled hard on the shoulder he'd gripped, trying to drag the other boy out with him. The blond reacted with a shocking burst of agility twisting free and slipping out of his shirt so quickly it looked as though he'd vanished for a blink then springing back inside the line bare-chested.



The abandoned shirt remained in the kimono boy's fist.



A click of annoyance escaped him. He tossed the shirt aside and lifted his guard again.



They began to circle, dust scratching beneath their feet. The blond wore a calm, analytical expression, eyes flicking over his opponent's movements. The black-haired one stared with an intensity that was almost hungry.



The blond moved first this time, closing the distance in a blink.



The kimono boy answered immediately. A jab skimmed past his cheek; he slipped inside it and returned a short hook. The blond checked it with his forearm, stepped out, and snapped a kick toward the ribs. The kimono boy caught the leg at the shin for half a beat—then the blond twisted free, as if he'd already expected the grip.



The rhythm broke when the blond drove a clean strike into the kimono boy's jaw.



The impact jolted his head, and for a fraction of a second his footing lagged behind his mind. He didn't see the sweep that followed.



The next instant, he was on the ground.



He barely turned his head aside as a foot slammed down where his face had been, dirt jumping with the impact. He rolled away to create distance, but the blond stayed on him, not letting him stand. A moment later, the bare-chested boy was on top, trying to pin him flat to the dirt.



The kimono boy's fingers dug into the ground.



His fist opened.



Sand and dust snapped up into the blond's face.



The blond squeezed his eyes shut instinctively and raised his arms—just long enough for the kimono boy to seize his shoulder and drive a crushing headbutt into his nose.



Now the bare-chested boy was the one on the ground, blinking hard through pain and grit, disoriented. The dark-haired boy pounced and began to rain down punches, fast, relentless, while the blond shielded himself as best he could with his forearms.



Soon the blond's guard began to slip. His arms sagged as he weakened.



The kimono boy's eyes lit up. He drew his arm back to finish it—



The blond snapped his eyes open.



Blue. Clear. Far too clear for someone who was supposed to be dazed.



He caught the incoming punch mid-strike.



The kimono boy froze for the briefest instant, stunned and in that instant, the blond yanked the captured arm, pulled him off-balance, and twisted his hips. His feet drove into the boy's stomach.



The dark-haired boy flew.



He landed on his feet like a cat, already preparing to launch a counterattack—



"Stop!" the instructor shouted.



The boy froze and looked down at his feet.



With a strange, complicated stare, he saw the line in front of him—his toes just scratched the line.



He lay in the dirt outside the ring, chest heaving.



"Reiji is out of bounds," the teacher announced. "Minato wins!"



---



Reiji sighed, ignoring the cheers and clapping Minato received.



"Yeah, Minato!"

"Did you see his face?"

"That's what…five times in a row now?"

"Well, Reiji was pretty close this time…"

"What? In your dreams. Minato had it in the bag!"



The teacher acting as referee glanced between them, then nodded approvingly. "Good match. Minato, excellent move at the end. But you can't allow yourself to end up in that position. Be more aggressive next time. Go to the infirmary and have your nose looked at."



Minato nodded seriously, wiping at the blood under his nostrils. The teacher turned as if to continue but stopped when he saw Reiji already walking away.



"Reiji," he called, voice stern. "Do the sign of reconciliation before leaving."



"Yeah, yeah, I know," Reiji muttered, rolling his eyes. He dusted himself off as he walked back toward the ring.



The teacher's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything only shook his head. Minato, bloody-nosed and with awkward face, offered a sheepish grin.



Reiji stopped in front of him and raised his hands without a word. Minato raised his own, and their fingers met in the simple sign.



"It was a good match," Minato said.



Reiji's eyebrow twitched. "I don't need your pity. Next time I'll win."



Minato blinked. "Eh? But I don't—"



Reiji turned away before he could finish and started to leave the ring.



Classmates brushed past Reiji to crowd around Minato, bombarding him with congratulations and questions. Minato, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of attention, could only smile awkwardly and scratch the back of his head.



Reiji watched the scene, his gaze hard to read.



"What?" a boy with short dark hair said beside him, wearing an arrogant smirk. "Jealous nobody's here to console you?"



Reiji didn't even look bothered. "Why, Enji? Do you need a flock of people around you every time you lose to me?"



The smirk slipped from Enji's face. He shrugged, trying to sound casual. "At least I've got friends who care about me."



"They care about you," Reiji replied coolly, "or they care about your father being Hokage?"



Enji's eyes darkened. "You—"



"Give it up, Enji," another boy cut in, stepping closer. The Uchiha crest stood out on his back as he patted the young Sarutobi's shoulder, side-eyeing Reiji. "Nothing good ever comes from associating with this guy."



Enji's shoulders slumped. "You're right, Arata. Come on." He threw Reiji one last bitter look before leaving with the others.



Reiji didn't follow. He headed back to the classroom alone, uninterested in the rest of the matches.







---

When the school day finally ended, students flocked toward their parents waiting at the gates. Reiji didn't slow. He passed through without looking left or right and continued into the streets of Konoha, walking with a steady, decisive pace, eyes fixed straight ahead.



People noticed him anyway. Some glanced curiously, some with recognition, others with pity. A few stepped aside as he passed, as if keeping distance was safer.



Not long after, he reached a quieter neighborhood in the north of the village where traditional houses stood in neat rows. He stopped in front of a high wall and an ornate gate leading to a carefully kept garden and a mansion beyond. Taking a breath, he stepped through.



"I'm home," Reiji called as he slid the door open.



"I'm in my study," a voice answered from deeper inside.



Reiji removed his sandals and walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the wooden floor in the otherwise silent house. He stopped in front of a door and knocked softly.



"Enter."



He slid the door open and stepped inside.



The first thing that caught his eye was the garden. Open panels across the room led onto a narrow terrace; beyond it were trimmed shrubs, pale stones, a small pond, and a single tree stirring gently in the breeze. Cool air drifted into the study, carrying the scent of greenery and water.



Only then did the rest of the room come into focus. Along one wall, a built-in library stretched from knee height to the ceiling, packed with worn books and carefully stacked scrolls. Near the open doorway positioned to catch the daylight sat a desk.



Behind it sat a man in his late twenties, reading a scroll in one hand. His long brown hair fell past his shoulders, slightly loose, as though he'd stopped caring when it was last tied. He was handsome in a worn, tired way.



He didn't look up right away. Reiji waited, head bowed, hands still. After what felt like too long, the man finally lifted his gaze from the scroll and settled soft brown eyes on the boy.



"Sit."



"Yes, Father." Reiji lowered himself into seiza in front of the desk.



"Tell me about your day," his father said, still reading. "How was school?"



Reiji hesitated. "It was okay. Nothing special happened."



"Wasn't it sparring class today?"



"Yes…"



"And?"



Reiji's mouth moved before he could stop himself. "So what?"



His father's eyes rose, one eyebrow lifting. "Do you not understand, or are you avoiding the question?"



Heat rose in Reiji's cheeks. "I lost," he mumbled.



"What?"



"I said I lost," he repeated, louder this time, shame tightening his throat. He refused to meet his father's eyes.



His father didn't answer immediately, letting the silence press down until it felt like weight.



"…Was it that boy you told me about?" his father asked at last. "Minato?"



"Yes."



"So you lost to an orphan."



Reiji's teeth clenched. "Minato isn't just an orphan! He's the best in the class by far!"



"That changes nothing," his father replied, disinterested.



Reiji looked up, incredulous. "What do you mean? I'm the strongest in our class if you don't count Minato. I beat the Hyūga, the Uchiha, the Sarutobi… I even beat that Senju."



His father didn't blink. "If they lose to an orphan too, they're nothing special."



Reiji opened his mouth, but nothing came out.



"Even if Minato is special—maybe even a once-in-a-generation genius," his father went on, "he's still an oprhan. He doesn't have access to training like you do. He doesn't have a father guiding him every day. So what's your excuse?"



Reiji said nothing, head bowed to hide the sting in his eyes.



"It's true you beat most of your classmates, even children from important clans," his father said, voice steady. "But you're still at the start of your education. Beating them now doesn't mean they'll stop improving. Soon you'll graduate, and each of you will get a jōnin instructor. When Minato has someone guiding him personally, he'll leave you behind if you stop progressing. Do you understand?"



"Yes," Reiji whispered.



His father's gaze sharpened. "Then why did you lose?"



Reiji's fists clenched. "He tricked me."



"He read you," his father corrected. "He let you believe what you wanted to believe, like a true shinobi."



He sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was slightly gentler. "Losing isn't the problem. It can even be useful, if you learn from it. But consoling yourself by saying it can't be helped because he's the strongest right now is the wrong approach. You must think. 'Why am I still losing to him? What is he doing that I'm not? What will I try next time?' Those are the questions you should be asking."



Reiji swallowed and steadied himself. "I understand."



His father studied him one last time, then nodded. "Good. Your dinner is waiting in the kitchen. Dismissed."



Reiji bowed, rose, and left the study.



---



He ate alone, in silence, the sound of his chopsticks too loud in the empty house. The food had flavor he could tell it did but it didn't reach him today.



'Even if I beat him one day… it'll be the same.'



When he beat the others, his father only said it was normal. That it meant nothing. That arrogance was for children who wanted to die early. But when he lost when he slipped once suddenly it mattered.



'Why?'



'Why does he never praise me?'



'Does he not love me?'



The thought tried to rise higher, to become real, but something in Reiji refused to give it shape. He swallowed another mouthful without tasting it and stared at the lacquered wood until his eyes blurred.



When he was done, he cleaned his place. Then he moved through the corridors in silence and slid the doors open onto the garden.



Cold air rushed in, carrying the smell of wet stone and trimmed leaves. The training area waited where it always waited: hard-packed dirt, a few posts, practice dummies. A lantern hung under the eaves, its light weak against the darkening sky.



Reiji stepped into the yard.



For a moment he just stood there, fists half-clenched.



Then his feet shifted into stance on their own.



He began to punch.



Wood thudded. The dummy rocked. He kicked low, then high, heel snapping back into guard. Again. Again. The motions had been carved into him young, hammered in until they lived under his skin. His limbs struck with a clean, violent sound that filled the quiet garden.



There had been a time when he cried when he hit. When his knuckles split and the sting made his eyes burn. When his father's voice didn't soften and the training didn't stop until the ground beneath him was speckled dark red.



Now his hands didn't cry.



Now they only went numb.



'First in my class should've been easy…'



It wasn't arrogance. Not to him. It was fact.



He had trained since he was little until his hands bled, until his lungs burned, until he learned to swallow pain like water. While other kids played at being shinobi, he had been working. Every morning. Every night. Every day.



So beating them was normal.



They were predictable soft, loud, emotional. They fought like children and thought like children. They wore their clan names like armour and called it strength.



Reiji had always seen through it.



'They're inferior.'



His fist drove into the dummy again, harder.



'So why isn't it enough?'



The answer came like a slap, bitter and immediate.



'Because he beats me.'



Not a clan heir. Not some prodigy from a famous bloodline.



A nobody.



Worse an orphan.



Minato didn't have a name people whispered with respect. He didn't have a father drilling him into the dirt. He didn't have some gift waiting in his blood.



And still every time Reiji thought victory was there, one breath away Minato slipped out of it like it didn't matter. Like Reiji's effort was something he could step around.



Calm.



As if winning wasn't a struggle at all.



Reiji's breath came faster. He struck again, then again, the rhythm turning rough, impatient. Images flashed behind his eyes Minato's calm face, that stupid friendly smile, the crowd swarming him like he was already someone worth celebrating.



Reiji tasted something bitter and realised his teeth were grinding.



'I can't accept it.'



And worse…



He pictured his father in his study with his back turned, scroll in hand, voice quiet and distant.



His stomach twisted.



'I couldn't meet his eyes.'



Not after losing again. Not after training harder than everyone else and still coming up short. Not after promising himself over and over that he would never be weak.



He wanted to hate Minato. It would be easier if he could.



But hate didn't fix the problem.


Winning did.



He stopped for half a heartbeat, chest rising and falling, and looked at his hands.



Small hands. Already marked red at the knuckles, a thin split where he'd hit wrong. Not enough to bleed much.



Not enough.



'I have no excuse.'



He struck the dummy again, and again, until the wood squeaked under the abuse. His forearms began to tremble. The numbness in his hands grew heavier, spreading upward like ice crawling across skin.



'Stronger.'



'Smarter.'



'Faster.'



He didn't need praise. He didn't need anyone's hand on his head saying, 'good job'. That was for children who could afford softness.



He needed results.



He needed to become something his father couldn't ignore.



If he became good enough, Father would have to be proud. If he became good enough, people would stop looking at him with pity stop moving aside like he was cursed, stop whispering about what happened to their family.



And if he became good enough—



'No one would ever dare to sacrifice me.'



The thought came sharp and clear, and it frightened him because it felt true.



His fist slammed into the wood one last time. Pain finally sparked bright and hot through the numbness. He welcomed it. Pain meant he was still moving.



He leaned his forehead against the dummy for a second, eyes closed, breathing hard.



Then he pushed away, wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve, and straightened.



"I'll be better," he whispered to the dark garden, to the silent house, to the father in the study who would never hear it. "Better than him. Better than all of them."



The sound of flesh hitting wood continued long into the night.



---

 

[TheSoulFrost]

He woke groggily, numb all over, but forced himself to sit up. His limbs felt heavy, as if he'd been filled with wet sand overnight. After a moment of blinking at the ceiling, he swung his legs over the edge of the futon and sat there until the room stopped tilting. The air was cold against his skin. He rubbed his face once, hard, then stood.

A basin waited near the corner. He splashed water over his hands and neck—and hissed quietly as it hit his knuckles. The skin there was split in thin lines, bruised purple and red from yesterday's training. He flexed his fingers once, ignoring the sting, then wiped the water away.

His hair had come loose in the night dark strands falling into his eyes so he gathered it back with practiced motions, combing it through with his fingers until it lay flat, then tying it high enough to stay out of the way. When the knot held, he pulled a loose kimono over his shoulders and tightened the sash, smoothing the fabric down like he could press the weakness out of it.



Only then did he leave the room.



His father was already eating when Reiji slipped into the kitchen, posture straight, eyes on the table. A second tray waited at Reiji's place rice still warm, a small bowl of miso, a piece of grilled fish, pickled vegetables set neatly to the side steam already thinning. Reiji murmured a greeting. His father answered with a brief nod without looking up.

Reiji sat, took up his chopsticks, and ate in silence not disturbing is father across from him, the only sounds the soft clink of porcelain. When the last mouthfuls were gone, he gathered the dishes, rinsed them clean, and moved through the rest of his morning without speaking, as if words would only get in the way.



At the door, as he reached for his sandals, his father's voice finally came.



"Take care."



Reiji paused. He turned and saw only his father's back, seated with a scroll in hand, already absorbed in reading.



"You too, Father," Reiji replied, then left.



Outside, the streets of Konoha were already awake. Reiji walked at a hurried pace, eyes forward, not meeting anyone's gaze. He didn't want greetings. He didn't want questions. He didn't want to be looked at.



"Reiji?"



The voice stopped him cold.



He froze, then turned.



A man stood a few steps away tall, white-haired, wearing a jōnin uniform: a green flak jacket over a dark blue shirt and pants. His presence felt calm and sharp at the same time, like a blade resting in its sheath. His face was handsome in a mature way, but there was something weary behind it too.



"Yes…?" Reiji answered warily.



The man blinked, then smiled. "Ah. You don't remember me. You were very young the last time I saw you. That's normal."



He approached without pushing, then crouched so he was eye level with the boy, smile still gentle.



"I'm Sakumo Hatake," he said. "An old friend of your father. Nice to meet you, Reiji."



Reiji frowned and took a small step back. "If you're a friend of my father, why has he never mentioned you? Also, my father has no friends. So stop lying."



For a second, Sakumo just stared—then let out a short laugh. "Ouch. That's a pretty harsh thing to say about your dad, don't you think?"



"It's true," Reiji said, arms crossing stubbornly.



Sakumo's smile didn't fade. His gaze lingered, amused. "If you say so… Still." He tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure you're not a girl? You don't resemble your father at your age."



Reiji's teeth clenched. "Watch your mouth. I'm a boy."



Sakumo laughed again, brighter this time. "Alright, alright. Sorry. You don't have his face, but you have his personality."



Reiji froze.



His voice came out smaller than he wanted. "How… how was my father before?"



Sakumo blinked, as if the question surprised him. Then he looked aside, thinking. "Your father?" He hummed. "Well… I don't know if I should say that to an child even less is son but he was the biggest asshole I knew, for sure."



Reiji was already turning away.



"But," Sakumo added quickly.



Reiji stopped.



Sakumo smiled, and it was softer now. "I couldn't have asked for a better teammate to watch my back."



He reached out and ruffled Reiji's hair.



"I'm sure it'll be the same for you too."



Reiji slapped his hand away, cheeks hot. He bowed quickly. "I'll be late to school. Sorry."



Then he left at a near run, as if staying one second longer would make his chest feel too tight to breathe.



Sakumo watched him go, a sad look settling on his face. Only when the boy disappeared from view did he stand and continue walking, expression unreadable.



---



When Reiji arrived at the Academy, he had barely stepped through the entrance before someone blocked his way.



"Hey, Homura!"



A boy his age with short brown hair stood with his arms crossed and a determined expression, planted like he owned the doorway.



Reiji stopped and looked at him with a guarded stare. "What?"



"Don't think you can ignore me now just because you beat me," the boy snapped. "I'll win next time."



Reiji smiled slightly no warmth in it at all. "In your dreams, Senju."



He shoved past him with his shoulder and walked on. Behind him, the boy sputtered in outrage at being dismissed.



The classroom was already packed, filled to the brim with the chatter of children. Reiji scanned the room for a place. In the center, a group had formed around a blond boy. As Reiji's gaze landed on him, the boy turned.



For a couple of seconds, they stared at each other in silence.



Then the blond boy smiled and gave him a small nod.



Reiji scowled and moved to the other side of the room.



He stopped at a desk that was already occupied.



"Move," Reiji said. "That's my seat."



The boy turned around, already starting to protest—then froze. "Ah… wha—" He swallowed. "Oh. Yes. Sure…"



He got out immediately and retreated.



Reiji sat down and slumped forward, arms folded under his head as if he were sleeping. Around him, voices whispered anyway.



"Seriously, who does he think he is…"

"Poor guy…"

"Why doesn't anyone do something?"

"Well, go tell him."

"No, I'm fine."

"My parents told me not to talk to him…"

"Apparently his father…"



Reiji burrowed deeper into his arms.



"Attention, everyone," the teacher said. She was a young woman in her early twenties wearing a chūnin uniform, and her voice cut through the room cleanly. "Today is a special day. You have a new classmate."



Reiji lifted his head and blinked.



A young girl with round cheeks and bright red hair stood nervously beside the teacher.



Red hair… that's rare.



"Well," the teacher said kindly, "introduce yourself."



The girl nodded, stepped forward, and for a moment looked like she might shrink into herself. Then she straightened, as if she'd gathered every nerve she had into one breath.



"My name is Uzumaki Kushina!" she declared. "I will become the first woman Hokage! You better believe it!"



Reiji raised an eyebrow, watching the way she shouted like it could hide her nerves.



'Uzumaki… where have I heard that name before?'



Suddenly someone stood up.



Reiji rolled his eyes the moment he saw who it was.



"My name is Namikaze Minato," the blond boy said, with a smile and a hand on his heart. "My dream is to become a Hokage who is respected by everyone in the village."



Kushina blinked, confused, while most of the class looked at him with something close to admiration.



'What a bunch of sheep.'



Reiji scoffed loudly. Several students shot him dirty looks.



"Okay," the teacher continued quickly, "Kushina-san, now that you're introduced, you can sit…" She scanned the classroom, then hesitated when she realized only one place remained. "…in the back. Next to Reiji."



Kushina nodded and started walking, while a few students watched her with pity.



She sat beside him and offered a shy smile. "Nice to meet you, Reiji-chan. I hope we can be friends."



Reiji side-eyed her. "Call me Homura. And no."



A hurt expression flashed across her face. "Huh? Why?"



"Do I need a reason?"



She went stiff, anger flickering on her features. Reiji noticed her fists trembling slightly. He shrugged and turned his attention forward as class resumed.



The lesson continued as if nothing had happened. Chalk scraped across the board. The teacher's voice rose and fell in a steady rhythm.



Kushina sat beside him like she didn't know what to do with her own limbs. She shifted in her seat, straightened, then slumped, then straightened again. Every few minutes she glanced at him and snapped her eyes forward as if she'd been caught. When she tried to follow along, she looked half a step behind, brow furrowed, lips moving silently as she copied down notes she didn't fully understand.



And her foot wouldn't stop tapping.



At first it was quiet, a nervous little beat under the desk. Then it found a rhythm and kept it. Tap. Tap. Tap.



Reiji's pencil paused. His jaw tightened. He didn't look at her, refused to on principle, but the sound wormed its way into his skull anyway, steady and stupid and endless, until it felt louder than the chalk.





When break was announced, a group of girls flocked to Kushina's side, questions piling on top of each other. The later seeing that retreated on herself in surprise.



"Hey, Kushina, where did you live before?"

"Why did you enroll now?"

"Is that your real hair?"

"Can I touch it?"



Kushina was surrounded so quickly she could barely answer one question before another hit her. A black-haired girl stepped in and waved them back.



"Leave her alone," she said. "You're scaring her."



Impressively, that did the trick. The exited girls rapidly calmed down and stepped back permitting for the red head girl to sight in relief and relaxed.



The new girl smiled at Kushida. "Hi. I'm Uchiha Mikoto. If you have trouble or don't understand something, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll help you."



She gestured to the others nearby, introducing them quickly, like she'd done this a hundred times.



"This is Kasumi Nara," she said first.



A girl with dark hair tied back in a lazy ponytail lifted sitting on her desk raised a hand without standing, eyes half-lidded like she might fall asleep mid-sentence. "Yo."



"Tsume Inuzuka," Mikoto continued, smiling a little wider.



Tsume grinned, wild brown hair spilling around her face, and beside her a small dog popped its head out from behind her legs, tail wagging like it had its own opinion about everything. "Hey! Don't mind him he likes new people. Right Kuromaru ?"



The dog sniffed the air in Kushina's direction and let out a tiny yap.



Finally, Mikoto pointed to the last girl. "And that's Aya Shirakawa."



Aya had soft, light-brown hair and warm eyes, and she waved with both hands like she was trying to make up for being for her small stature. "Nice to meet you, Kushina!"



Kushina blinked at the sudden pile of names, then nodded quickly, smiling shyly as she tried to keep up. "N-nice to meet you all…"



Kushina glanced toward Reiji nervously.



Mikoto followed her gaze and snorted. "Don't worry about him, Kushina. He's an idiot and he's mean to everyone. Don't take what he said to heart."



"Watch your mouth, crow-head," Reiji muttered, not even looking up. "Before I shut it myself."



Mikoto rolled her eyes. "See? Just like I said."



Kushina blinked, then blurted without thinking, "Guy? Reiji's not a girl?"



A few heads snapped their way.



Kushina barely had time to realize what she'd said before a hand clamped on the top of her head and turned her. She found herself staring straight into black eyes framed by long lashes.



"I am a boy," he said flatly. "Got it?"



Her cheeks went hot. She nodded dumbly, brain failing to process what happened.



He released her, stood up, and walked away. The girls instinctively parted as he passed in surprise. A few of them watched him like they expected him to do something worse then he stopped at another desk and looked down at the student sitting there.



"Hey," he said to the student, "give me your desk now."



"Y-yes!"



Kushina sat stiff as stone. Mikoto exhaled. "You're lucky it stopped at that."



"Huh?"



"The last person who called him a girl left with a nasty bruise," Mikoto said.



Aya stared. "He really is a savage…"



"Yeah…" Kushina murmured, still absent-minded.



"Well…" Tsume shrugged, eyes half-lidded. "He's still pretty cute."



Everyone looked at her.



"What?" she said blandly. "It's true."



Mikoto shook her head. "Anyway, I suggest you don't approach him. Like you saw, he's not friendly."



"Why is he like that?" Kushina asked, curious despite herself.



"Who knows," Mikoto replied. "But even in the village, his father and he aren't very liked."



"Really?"



"Yeah. Apparently his father shamed the village or something." Mikoto hesitated. "I don't know. I just heard my parents say it once."



Kushina nodded slowly and dropped the subject. Soon the girls shifted into lighter conversation hobbies, family, anything that made the world feel interesting to a group of young childrens.



Their voices blurred into background noise, names, laughter, the scratch of sandals on wood. Reiji let it wash past him without catching. He'd learned young that most conversations were just people filling space.



Reiji, meanwhile, was thinking about something else entirely.



We're even in strength and speed, but somehow it's always me who loses.



Why?



Is it my style? Is it not compatible with his? There's nothing obvious about him. He seems normal, and yet somehow, he always responds faster than me right before I land a winning blow. It's like he has a sixth sense…


It didn't leave him.



---

Later that day, sparring class began again. Outside, the students lined up in front of the teacher.



"Okay, everyone," she said. "Like always, I'll call the students and they will perform in the ring. You know the rules, but I'll repeat them: only taijutsu. Jutsu and weapons are forbidden. If I see someone cheat, they will regret it. Sparring lasts until someone surrenders or is knocked down. Understood?"



"Yes!"



"Good." The teacher's eyes moved to the red-haired girl. "Because it's your first day, Kushina-san, if you please."



Reiji had taken a spot at the edge of the clearing, back against a tree trunk, arms folded as he watched with half-lidded eyes the young red head step nervously in the ring.



"Yes!" Kushina stepped into the ring, trying to look brave as she waited for her opponent.



The teacher tilted her head, considering. "Hmm. Because I don't know how well you perform…" Her gaze found a student in the line. "Sato, you're up!"



"Yes!"



A tall boy with dirty-blond hair stepped into the ring.



Reiji eyed the boy's confident stance… then the red-haired girl beside him, shifting her feet nervously.



'Hope it won't be boring… or at least it ends quickly.'



"Alright. You two do the sign of confrontation."



Sato stepped forward and formed the hand sign without hesitation. Kushina blinked, confused, then copied him a half-second late.



"Ready?" The two nodded.



"Begin!"



Sato lunged immediately.



A sharp kick slammed into Kushina's stomach before she even understood he'd moved.



Her eyes went wide. Spittle flew from her mouth as the air left her in a single brutal burst. She folded with a choked cry and dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach.



Reiji blinked.



'Well… I didn't have expectations, but still…'



"You can do it, Kushina!" Mikoto called out, worry obvious in her voice.



"Yeah, get up—hurry!" Tsume joined in.



Kushina trembled, trying to inhale. With effort, she pushed herself up using her arms, teeth clenched like she was forcing her body to obey.



Sato smirked, circling like he'd already won.



"Ah, you should stay down, tomato-head."



A few students giggled.



Even Reiji's lips twitched when he saw Kushina's scarlet face go even redder.



'I'll give him that… it's a fitting insult.'



Kushina's head lifted slowly. Her eyes were wide, then narrow. Her voice dropped low.



"What… did you call me?"



Sato blinked. "Huh?"



He shrugged, still smiling. "Tomato-he—"



He didn't finish.



Kushina exploded forward.



She tackled him so fast it looked like she'd been launched. Sato's back hit the ground with a thud, and suddenly she was on top of him like a storm given fist.



For a second, the class didn't even react.



Then it became chaos.



Kushina's punches rained down with wild precision. If Sato tried to cover his head, she drove her knuckles into his ribs. If he moved his arms to block his body, she snapped a hit into his forehead. When he tried to swing back, she took the blow with a grunt like it barely mattered and answered with twice the violence.



The confident grin vanished. His breathing turned ragged.



"I—" 'crack' a punch to the side of the head.



"I—" 'thud' an elbow into the stomach.



"Surren—!" he tried, voice cracking.



His words came out mangled, half-choked by panic and the angle of his head. Kushina leaned in, and when his mouth moved again, she slapped a hand over it mid-syllable and kept hitting him anyway.



The sound echoed flesh on flesh followed by gasps from the crowd. One girl actually squeaked.



"THAT'S ENOUGH!" the teacher barked.



Kushina froze.



Arms still raised, chest heaving, hair half-fallen into her eyes, she looked like she'd been caught in the middle of being something feral.



The teacher stepped between them, voice hard. "He surrendered."



Kushina slowly lowered her fists. She stood without a word.



The moment she moved off him, Sato curled into himself, whimpering. He didn't even try to sit up just clutched his stomach like he was afraid it might fall apart.



The teacher crouched beside him, exhaled through her nose, did a quick check, then looked up.



"Is there any volunteer to take him to the infirmary?"



No one moved at first.



Then two boys stepped forward stiffly, avoiding Kushina's eyes. They helped Sato up like he might shatter if touched wrong and guided him off the ring. Sato's face was pale; his gaze kept flicking back to Kushina with something between fear and disbelief.





The class reaction was a mess.



Mikoto and her little group clapped, half-proud and half-stunned, rushing to Kushina the moment she stepped down. Most of the others didn't know whether to laugh, stare, or pretend they hadn't just watched a beating.



Reiji covered his mouth with his sleeve, poorly hiding his shoulders shaking.



'I don't know if we can really call that sparring… but it was hilarious.'




Kushina turned—



And suddenly locked eyes with Reiji.



Her glare hit him, furious, embarrassed, cheeks burning red.



Reiji raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, expression flat.



'What?'



For a split second, Kushina looked like she wanted to jump him next.



Then she snapped her gaze away and focused on the teacher as she approached.



"Good fight, Kushina," the teacher said, tone wary. "You took advantage of an opening. That part was smart. But—" She rubbed her eyebrow like her head hurt. "Next time you interrupt someone trying to surrender, you'll have problems. Understand?"



Kushina's shoulders sagged. "…Yes, sensei," she mumbled, head bowed.



She turned quickly and hurried back to Mikoto and the others still stiff with anger and embarrassment, the smallest shake in her hands that only someone paying attention would notice.



After Kushina stepped down, the teacher kept the matches rolling.



Names. Bows. "Begin!"



Reiji watched the first few seriously out of habit more than interest. He tracked foot placement, breathing, the way kids telegraphed punches before they even moved. It took him less than ten seconds per fight to decide the outcome.



Too slow. Too stiff. Too emotional.



Most of them fought like they were trying to impress their friends instead of trying to win.



Reiji sighed and rested his cheek in his palm.



'Boring.'



The next spar started. Someone charged. Someone panicked. Someone tripped over their own feet.



Reiji almost yawned again.



'This class…'



Then the teacher called a name that actually mattered.



"Minato, you're up. And Enji, you're with him."



The room changed.



Even the loud ones quieted down.



Minato stepped into the ring calm and polite, like always. Across from him, the Sarutobi kid stood tall, jaw clenched, trying to look fearless.



They bowed.



"Begin!"



Enji moved first, fast and aggressive. Minato didn't meet force with force. He simply wasn't there when the strike came, slipping aside with clean footwork like he'd seen the attack before it happened.



No wasted motion. No noise. No heat.



Just efficiency.



Reiji's eyes sharpened despite himself.



'…Of course.'



The Sarutobi pushed harder. Minato adjusted once, twice always one step ahead, always just out of reach until the other boy's movements grew heavier, angrier, predictable.



Then Minato ended it.



One clean angle. One controlled sweep. One clean strike on the jaw.



The teacher called stop before it turned humiliating.



Applause burst out. Some students even leaned forward to better see.



Minato helped his opponent up with that same polite smile, like he hadn't just dismantled him in front of everyone.



Reiji didn't clap.



He didn't smile either.



But his boredom was gone.



And that annoyed him more than anything.



He's the only one here who isn't trash. The thought appeared, unwanted, and he hated it for existing.



His fingers tightened around his sleeve.



Because Minato wasn't his opponent today.



Not today. Not in this stupid rotation.



And worst of all, Reiji could feel it, sharp and sour in his chest.



He wanted it.



He wanted to fight him.



He wanted his revenge.



The idea tasted bitter, like admitting something he refused to say out loud.



So when the next matches started, Reiji's interest died again even faster than before.



Someone else stepped in. Someone else shouted. Someone else flailed.



Reiji stared past it, eyes half-lidded, already numb with boredom.



'If it's not Minato… it's nothing.'



Then the teacher's voice cut through.



"Next! Arata and Reiji—your turn today!"



Reiji finally lifted his head.



Across the ring, the young Uchiha was already looking at him, determined and ready.



Reiji's mouth curved into a small smile.



Fine, he thought, standing. If I can't have Minato today… I'll settled for this.



---

 

[TheSoulFrost]

--



Reiji walked into the ring with an easy, unhurried pace, as though he had all the time in the world. He was smiling too which, in Reiji's case, was never a comforting sign.



Arata was already waiting. He held his stance with practiced discipline, eyes steady and expression controlled.



They stopped a step apart and stared.



"Why are you smiling?" Arata demanded at last, as though Reiji had committed some unforgivable breach of etiquette.



"What?" Reiji blinked innocently. "I can't smile now?"



"Stop it. It's disgusting."



"I don't want to," Reiji said pleasantly. "I'm in a good mood right now."



The teacher opened her mouth probably to remind them of rules, sportsmanship, and the general principle that Academy students were not supposed to maim each other before lunch but both boys raised their arms at the same moment, as though they'd made an agreement without words.



She narrowed her eyes, then decided to let them get on with it. "Ready… Go!"



Nothing happened.



They simply stood there, measuring each other with their eyes.



Seconds stretched. The class began to fidget.



"Arata, go!"

"What are you waiting for?!"

"Reiji, are you scared?!"



Reiji looked, if anything, more relaxed. Arata, on the other hand, began to show tiny signs of strain an adjustment of the feet, a faint tightening in his jaw.



Reiji lifted an eyebrow. "We don't have all day," he said. "I'm getting bored."



"Why should I move first and give you the advantage?" Arata snapped. "You move."



Reiji sighed loudly, as if burdened by the stupidity of the situation, and then did something that even made the teacher blinking.



He spread his arms wide.



It was not a stance. It was not even pretending to be a stance. It was the posture of someone inviting a hug.



"Fine," Reiji said, grinning. "I won't move from this position."



Arata stared. He knew, quite clearly, that this was a trap. The trouble was that traps were much easier to avoid when a crowd wasn't shouting your name behind you.



His teeth clenched.



Then he dashed.



He got as far as three steps before Reiji flicked his foot up and kicked a neat little cloud of dust straight into Arata's face.



It was not, strictly speaking, a powerful attack. It was not impressive. It was not even clever.



That was the point.



Arata stumbled back, eyes squeezed shut, arms snapping up defensively. He braced himself for the blow that should have come next.



It did not come.



He blinked through the stinging grit, rubbed his eyes, and looked up.



Reiji was still there. Arms still spread. Smile unchanged.



"I told you," Reiji said lightly, "I wouldn't move."



A heat rushed up Arata's neck so fast it was a wonder it didn't catch fire. He lunged again, this time with real anger, and threw a quick feint into a pivoting kick.



Reiji raised his knee and met it as though he'd been expecting it all day.



Arata hissed, shook the pain out, and tried to force the pace with a flurry of kicks, jabs—anything to make Reiji stop looking like he was enjoying himself. But Reiji moved with infuriating calm: a palm here, an elbow there, a tilt of the head that let a fist skim past his hair.



Arata's frustration spilled out of him. He launched into a flying kick.



Reiji caught it.



For a brief moment, Arata's leg was locked under Reiji's arm like a trapped branch. Arata, to his credit, didn't panic. He planted a hand, twisted, and snapped a counter-kick toward Reiji's head.



Reiji blocked it with his free arm. The impact loosened his grip just enough for Arata to wrench himself free and retreat, breathing hard.



Reiji didn't chase him. He watched, relaxed, as though Arata were the one being assessed.



"Why aren't you attacking?!" Arata shouted.



"Why am I obliged to?" Reiji replied. "I'm enjoying myself."



"Stop mocking me! Take it seriously!"



"I don't want to," Reiji said—and because he was Reiji, he stuck his tongue out.



"Reiji," the teacher snapped, "stop taunting your opponent and take this spar seriously."



Reiji sighed, the long-suffering sigh of someone being asked to complete a chore. "Fine."



He finally began to set his feet properly.



Arata saw the opening and threw himself forward at once, fist aimed for Reiji's jaw.



The pain that shot through Arata's knuckles was immediate and shocking.



Reiji had blocked the punch with his forehead.



Before Arata could decide whether this was brave or stupid, Reiji caught his wrist, stepped behind him, and kicked the back of his knee.



Arata hit the dirt on one knee.



Reiji twisted his arm behind his back and pinned it tight, tight enough that Arata's shoulder screamed in warning.



Arata struggled, teeth clenched. Reiji's grip did not loosen.



Then Reiji leaned close, voice low.



"You said yesterday," he murmured, "that nothing good happens to people who associate with me, didn't you?"



Arata's breath caught.



He didn't get to answer.



Reiji kicked him sharply between the shoulder blades. Arata lurched forward, thrown toward the edge of the ring, stumbling certain he was about to be ejected.



And then, at the last second, fingers grabbed his collar and stopped him right on the line.



For half a heartbeat, Arata hung there, balanced between falling out and being dragged back, his humiliation paused like a cruel joke.



Reiji's voice came again, quiet as a knife sliding free.



"You're right," he said.



His grip tightened.



"I don't associate with losers."



And he yanked.



Arata was dragged back in and hurled toward the center so hard the world spun. He hit the ground, scrambled up on instinct—



—and found Reiji already there.



A foot filled his vision.



There was a thud, bright and final.



Arata's thoughts vanished.



---



The ring stayed silent for a beat then the teacher's voice cut through it.



"Reiji. My office. Now."



The teacher's expression gave nothing away.



Reiji lifted an eyebrow, but he didn't argue. He only nodded, as if the order didn't concern him.



He stepped out of the ring.



The students parted as he passed. Nobody spoke to him; they simply watched him with wary eyes some angry, some frightened, some pretending very hard they weren't looking at all.



Someone blocked his path.



"Are you happy now?"



Reiji turned.



Mikoto was standing there, her face tight with anger. Aya Shirakawa hovered at her side, tugging at her sleeve with a worried expression.



Reiji looked at Mikoto for a moment, inwardly amused.



"If you want to say something," he said, "say it. Don't beat around the bush."



Mikoto's hands clenched. "Why are you like this?"



Reiji's smile was small and irritating. "Like what?"



"Like… you." She made an exasperated gesture at him. "Why do you enjoy being mean? Why do you enjoy ridiculing your classmates?"



"Why not?" Reiji replied.



Mikoto blinked, thrown off by the simplicity of it. "Huh?"



Reiji shrugged, spreading one hand as if she'd asked an obvious question with an obvious answer.



"We're children being trained to kill people," he said calmly. "Not to cuddle each other and play at being friends. If you can't accept a bit of violence now, what do you think you'll do later?"



Mikoto's mouth opened, then shut again.



Reiji's gaze shifted past her over her shoulder to where Minato was still surrounded by people. Minato looked surprised to find Reiji staring at him. Reiji watched him for a second, expression sharpening.



"Don't you find it absurd?" he continued, voice still even. "They keep telling us to 'protect the village' and 'take care of our comrades'… but this entire system is built on making sure there are enough killers to send out when the village wants something done."



He paused, as though genuinely considering it.



"Who decided someone's life was worth less than the village's?"



Mikoto stared at him, momentarily speechless.



Reiji looked back at her, and his smile returned, arrogant, almost pleased with himself.



"You're angry because I humiliated your friend," he said, "not because humiliation is some great moral crime. You're angry because he's important to you. Because he the same name as you. Fine. I can understand that."



His eyes narrowed slightly.



"But don't play saint. If it were some random kid, you'd have looked away."



Mikoto's face flushed.



"And if that's really what this is about," Reiji added, nodding toward Kushina, "then you should be angry at her too. She did something far worse, and everyone clapped."



Kushina, who had been listening with the rest of them, went red from the roots of her hair to the tips of her ears.



Reiji tilted his head at Mikoto.



"I'm right, aren't I?"



Nobody answered.



Mikoto's hands lowered slowly, as if she'd only just realized she'd stopped him and still had no good way to finish this.



Reiji stepped past her, as if she were no more than a chair left in the wrong place.



"I like what I like," he said over his shoulder, voice almost bored now. "I hate what I hate. I don't need some profound reason for it."



He glanced back once—briefly, dark eyes calm.



"I just didn't like his face," he added. "Same way some of you don't like mine."



He stepped past her, already moving again.



Mikoto turned sharply, hair swaying with the motion, and stared at his back as if she couldn't decide whether to grab him or let him go. Her hands clenched at her sides.



"You think this makes you strong?" she hissed.



Reiji didn't stop. He didn't even look over his shoulder.



"It doesn't," Mikoto continued, voice tight. "It just makes everyone wait for the day you finally get what you deserve."



Reiji's pace never changed. Only his head tilted a fraction, as if he were listening to something mildly interesting.



"In this village," he said, "everyone gets what they deserve. Just not always from the person they expect."



He kept walking, sandals soft against the floor, leaving Mikoto and the others behind in a silence that felt uncomfortably loud. Then he disappeared into the school building, heading for the teacher's office.



---



The hours blurred into chores and scolding until the sun was gone.



It was already night when he finally emerged from the school building.



Reiji stretched, every muscle protesting. "Seriously," he muttered, rolling his shoulders, "making me scrub the entire floor at my age… don't they have any shame?"



The streets of Konoha were quieter now, the shops shuttered, the lantern light turning everything soft around the edges. Reiji wandered through the emptier lanes and, for once, didn't mind being alone. The village felt almost peaceful when nobody was whispering.



He was also, inconveniently, late.



Which meant he needed an excuse.



Reiji turned the problem over in his head as he walked, already hearing his father's voice—calm, disappointed, far worse than shouting.



Mikoto had still deserved it.



She had that irritating, polished sort of confidence like she'd been born knowing the correct thing to say at the correct moment, the perfect little role-model girl who thought being righteous was the same thing as being right.



And anyway—Reiji hadn't been trying to make a point. He wasn't trying to change the world.



He just enjoyed watching their faces when he said things they didn't know how to answer.



Sometimes, he wondered whether they were all idiots… or whether he was the problem.



He didn't like that thought, so he shoved it away.



But one part of what he'd said was true.



There was no grand meaning behind what he did.



No noble reason. No tragic excuse.



He did it because he wanted to.



Because he could.



And because, if he was being honest with himself, he was petty like that.



---



Soon he was standing in front of his house, turning his alibi over one last time before going in.



He slipped inside, removed his sandals without a sound, and started to creep toward his room as though the floorboards might betray him if he moved too quickly. Unfortunately, the kitchen door was still open and light spilled into the corridor in a way that made sneaking feel foolish.



Reiji sighed, abandoned the idea of escape, and stepped inside.



"Where were you?" his father asked.



He sat, as always, in the same chair, posture perfectly composed, gaze unreadable. In front of him were two sets of dinner—still hot, steam rising as if to prove the point.



Reiji bowed quickly. "Sorry, Father. I was practising my kunai skills outside and… somewhere along the way I didn't notice the time. I'll be more careful next time."



His father lifted an eyebrow, and something like amusement flickered across his face.



"Practising with kunai," he repeated mildly. "Stop me if I'm wrong, but your kunai set is still in your room. And today is not your weapons day at school."



Reiji's stomach dipped.



"I borrowed someone else's set," he said, grasping for the nearest excuse.



His father's eyebrow rose a little higher. "You have a friend who gave you his set willingly?"



Reiji frowned, as if offended by the accusation. "Huh… I stole it."



There was a pause.



"And where is the set now?" his father asked, tone unchanged.



"I lost it in the dark," Reiji said.



His father shook his head slowly, not in anger but in that calm, disappointed way that felt worse.



"You did not steal it from a young Uchiha named Arata, did you?"



Reiji froze.



He looked up, eyes a little too wide, and tried very hard to appear innocent. "Huh… no?"



His father regarded him for a moment, then sighed.



"It's good that you're beginning to train in deceiving people," he said, almost conversational. "It's an important part of a shinobi's skillset. But you're still too immature to fool me."



Reiji's shoulders dropped. He bowed his head, guilty. "Sorry…"



"Sorry for what?" his father asked.



Reiji hesitated. "For… shaming you with my actions?"



"No." His father shook his head. "For not thinking of the bigger picture. Of the future."



Reiji blinked. "The future?"



"Yes." His father's eyes sharpened slightly. "When you graduate, you'll be assigned to a team. There's a very real chance that the people you look down upon will become your teammates. The people who will protect you if you're in danger. Who will watch your back."



Reiji's mouth tightened. "I know," he said, and then added, "but they're so boring. And weak. I just… I can't comprehend them."



He lowered his voice, as if the walls might be listening.



"And they say mean things about you."



For the first time, his father's expression softened.



"They're children," he said quietly. "Repeating what their parents say. They don't understand what they're saying." His gaze held Reiji's.



"But I'm a child too!" Reiji protested, before he could stop himself.



"Yes," his father replied. "You are."



He said it plainly, which somehow made it worse.



"But you are also special," he continued, voice steady. "You are more talented and more intelligent than the average student in your class. So, it becomes your burden to be more patient with them."



Reiji's hands curled in his lap. "I… I really can't," he admitted. "I did try, believe me. But they aren't like me. I can't sympathise with them."



"They treat training like a game," Reiji said. "Then they're shocked when it hurts."



His father's eyes narrowed slightly. "And that makes them unworthy of you?"



"It makes them stupid," Reiji said flatly. "They spend all day worrying about silly things, saying silly things… and when I say something true, they get mad."



"Because you say it to wound," his father replied, calm as ever.



Reiji looked away. "Even when I try to talk normally, it's boring. It's… nothing."



His father watched him for a moment. "Then stop looking for entertainment," he said. "Look for value. You don't need to like them. You need to know who can help you when it matters."



His father was silent for a moment, then asked, "And Minato? Does he not get along with his classmates?"



Reiji's face scrunched up as if he'd been forced to swallow something bitter. "Yes," he said. "But I can't be like him. It's practically torture just watching it."



His father let out a long sigh.



"Is it really the curse of the Homura family?" he murmured, more to himself than to Reiji. "Where did I go wrong…"



Reiji shrank in his seat.



"Reiji."



He jumped at the sudden firmness in his father's voice.



"Yes?"



"When I was your age," his father said, "I thought like you. I believed teammates would only drag me down. That I was better alone."



Reiji leaned forward slightly, listening despite himself.



"But I was wrong," his father continued. "Somewhere along the way, you will need someone. You can't achieve anything alone. You must create bonds with people."



His gaze settled on Reiji—direct, unflinching.



"It is because of those bonds that you are here with me now," he said quietly, "alive. Never forget that."



Reiji's eyes trembled. Something complicated moved across his face—understanding, reluctance, and the discomfort of being touched by a truth he didn't like.



"I know," he said, voice small. "I know."



His father's tone eased, just slightly.



"I'm not asking you to respect your classmates," he said. "I know that's too much to demand of you. But at least pretend. Try." He paused. "Or try befriending Minato. He could be a valuable ally later."



Reiji nodded without looking up.



His father watched him for a moment, then gave him time to breathe.



Finally, he gestured toward the steaming plates.



"Enough about that. Eat." Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "Tell me about your day. Did anything unusual happen apart from the incident with the Uchiha boy?"



---

 

[TheSoulFrost]

---



"Well… there was a new classmate today."



"A new classmate?" Homura didn't look up from his bowl, but Reiji heard the attention in the pause.



"Yes. I wanted to ask—have you heard the name Uzumaki before?"



Homura's chopsticks stopped. That alone was answer enough.



"Uzumaki," he repeated. "Your classmate is an Uzumaki?"



"Yeah. Uzumaki Kushina." Reiji frowned. "I swear I've heard it somewhere. I assumed it was a famous clan."



"It is," Homura said quietly. "Some would argue they mattered almost as much as the Senju and the Uchiha when Konoha was founded."



Reiji blinked. "If they're that important, why have I never seen any?"



"Because they don't live here," Homura replied. "They never did. Their home is Uzushiogakure—an island nation off the western sea, with whirlpools so thick ships learn to fear the coast."



"Then why aren't they in the village if they're a founding clan?"



Homura exhaled through his nose, as if the question annoyed him. "Because 'founding' doesn't always mean 'belonging.' The Uzumaki are allies. Not citizens."



He studied Reiji for a moment. "Have you heard of Mito Uzumaki?"



Reiji's eyes widened. "The First Hokage's wife."



"Exactly." Homura's tone stayed even. "They're known for their vitality and large chakra reserves. But more than that…" His gaze sharpened slightly. "Their fūinjutsu."



"Sealing," Reiji said at once.



"Yes. Few clans can claim to rival them in it." He paused, then added, almost unwillingly, "They also tend to be a bunch of redheads."



Reiji's mouth twitched. "So it was with their help that the First Hokage sealed the tailed beasts."



"And later used that power as a political tool," Homura corrected calmly.



Reiji scowled. "I still think giving them away was stupid."



Homura's eyes lifted—soft, but warning. "Do not speak lightly of men who held the world together with their hands. It is easy to judge a decision when you know what came after."



Reiji lowered his gaze. "…Right."



Homura nodded once, satisfied, and continued. "The Uzumaki are one of the few clans that never bent themselves into a hidden village. They are a nation in their own right. Powerful enough that they don't need to hide."



Reiji absorbed that, then looked up again. "And now one of them is in my class."



Homura's stare held on him a fraction too long. "Tell me—this Kushina. She is a girl?"



"Yes."



"I see." Homura looked away, but something complicated moved in his expression—something tired, almost sad. "So it's time."



"Father?"



Homura's voice lowered. "Be kind to her, Reiji."



Reiji frowned, unsettled. "Why?"



"Because the world was not kind to her," Homura said. "And it will not suddenly become kind now."



He set his chopsticks down. "Also… she may be useful to you later. Understand?"



Reiji hesitated. Then he nodded. "Yes, Father. I'll try."



"Good."



They returned to their meal, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before.



When they finished, Homura added, "Get up at dawn tomorrow. We're going outside."



Reiji's eyes lit up. "You'll train me personally?"



Homura nodded once. "Yes. It's time you learned an essential technique for a shinobi."



Reiji leaned forward. "What is it?"



Homura's gaze stayed on his bowl as he asked, "Tell me, son—do you like climbing trees?"



---



They woke before sunrise.



Reiji dressed in silence, pulling on his kimono, wrapping his hands with bandages, and fastening his ninja pouch at his waist. After a brief hesitation, he strapped a second pouch higher on his thigh, hidden beneath the folds of his clothes.



When he stepped outside, his father was already waiting.



Homura stood with his cane planted in the dirt, the early breeze tugging at the empty sleeve where his right arm should have been.



"Let's go," he said.



They crossed Konoha while it was still half-asleep. The streets were mostly empty—only a few merchants were awake, setting up their stalls with sleepy faces. Lanterns made small puddles of light on the ground.



Homura walked neither too slow nor too fast. Too fast for a man who needed a cane, perhaps—but still measured, deliberate. His right leg spasmed faintly when it struck the ground, and his gait had an awkwardness that made the effort visible.



Reiji noticed anyway.



He always noticed.



Soon the village gates rose ahead of them—huge and imposing, framed by high walls that swallowed the dawn. Two guards stood posted on either side. They nodded as the two passed, but their eyes lingered a fraction too long on Homura's face—long enough to be impolite, short enough to pretend it wasn't.



Neither Reiji nor his father reacted.



They continued down the road for a while, the air cold and clean, until Homura suddenly veered off the path.



He slipped into the forest without warning, cane tapping against roots and stone, and Reiji followed without hesitation.



The trees closed around them. The sounds of the road disappeared, replaced by damp earth, rustling leaves, and the steady rhythm of Homura's steps.



After a few minutes, the forest opened into a small clearing, trunks standing close on all sides.



Homura stopped.



"Here," his father said.



Reiji felt the question rise and forced it back down. He waited, standing in the center of the space with the trees pressing in around them like silent witnesses.



Homura turned slightly, his gaze settling on him.



"Show me what you've got."



Reiji blinked. "What?"



"The basics," Homura said, as if Reiji were being slow on purpose. "Start from the beginning. Don't disappoint me."



Reiji's mouth tightened. "You dragged me into the forest to watch me do henge?"



Homura's cane tapped once.



A kunai whistled through the air.



Reiji barely had time to register the glint before he threw himself sideways, heart slamming into his ribs. The blade sank into a tree trunk behind him with a dull 'thunk.'



He spun back, furious. "What the—!"



"Shut up," Homura said calmly. "It's serious."



Reiji stared at him, breathing fast.



Homura's expression didn't change. "I won't move from here," he added. "And I won't use anything beyond what the Academy teaches you. Bunshin. Henge. Kawarimi. Weapons. Use what you've got."



Reiji's eyes narrowed. "What, you think I'm afraid of a crippled man?"



Homura's gaze flicked over him, cool and unimpressed. "I am still an adult. And I was an active shinobi before I was injured."



He lifted his cane slightly, as if it were merely an extension of his hand.



"You're lucky," he continued. "Later, you won't get sparring partners who care if you live through the lesson."



Reiji gritted his teeth until his jaw ached.



Fine.



If it had to be serious, then he would be serious.



He reached into his pouch, snapped two smoke bombs to the ground at his feet, and in the same motion sent a pair of kunai flying toward his father.



Smoke erupted in a thick grey bloom, swallowing the clearing—turning Homura into a shadow with a cane.



Homura did not cough. He did not flinch.



Reiji heard the steady tap of the cane, then the dull 'clack' of metal as the kunai were batted aside casually—like unwanted insects.



Reiji moved through the smoke fast and low, feet light, trying to keep his breathing quiet. He slipped around to the side, then farther, then—



A voice cut through the haze.



"Good," Homura said, as if speaking to the air itself. "Now you're taking it seriously."



Reiji didn't answer.



Instead, he formed the seal and sent an Academy bunshin darting out of the smoke to the right—loud on purpose, kicking up dirt, snapping branches.



At the same time, Reiji went left.



The bunshin charged, reckless and obvious, kunai raised high.



Reiji stayed low, silent, circling toward where Homura had been.



Three.



Two.



One—



The smoke thinned. The clearing returned in pieces: tree trunks, early light, scattered kunai in the dirt—



—and Homura standing exactly where he'd been at the start, not a single step taken.



Listening.



The bunshin lunged first, kunai driving straight for Homura's chest.



Homura didn't even look at it.



His head turned, eyes already fixed on the real threat.



On Reiji.



Reiji's stomach tightened.



'He knows.'



Reiji struck from behind, kunai in hand, driving for the gap beneath the ribs—hard, fast, precise.



For a man with a cane, Homura moved with sudden, unsettling speed.



*Clack.*



The cane snapped up and knocked Reiji's blade aside.



At the exact same moment, the bunshin's kunai passed through Homura like mist.



It vanished with a soft *poof* behind him, as if embarrassed to have existed.



Before Reiji could recover, Homura's good leg swept low and cut his footing out from under him.



Reiji's breath hitched as the ground vanished.



The cane hooked the front of his kimono—fabric caught at an angle that turned it into a lever—and Homura hauled him forward as if he weighed nothing.



Not thrown.



Placed in front of him like a shield.



A kunai whistled in from the treeline—one Reiji had thrown earlier, timed to arrive through the thinning smoke.



For half a heartbeat, everything slowed.



Reiji's breath caught.



Homura didn't blink.



The kunai slammed into Reiji's chest—



—and there was a sharp *poof.*



A log replaced him.



The blade buried itself in wood.



Reiji was no longer there.



He was crouched in the brush ten metres away, heart pounding, fingers tight around another kunai.



*I got out.*



On the log, a second kunai lay almost unnoticed—its paper tag already hissing at the edge.



Homura's eyes flicked to it instantly.



The cane tip lifted—already moving.



He leaned in and, with one precise movement, sliced the burning tag clean off the kunai.



The paper spun into the air.



Homura flicked his wrist.



The tag shot toward the bushes—fast and neat, straight at Reiji's hiding place.



"Rule one," Homura said calmly, "don't hide near your own blast."



Reiji's blood went cold.



He sprang sideways on instinct, throwing himself out of the bushes and onto the bare dirt just as the paper flared.



*BOOM.*



The explosion punched dirt and leaves upward, swallowing the edge of the clearing in a thick brown cloud. Heat licked past him. Pebbles and grit stung his cheek and forearms.



He rolled once, came up low, coughing, eyes watering.



"What a merciless son," Homura's voice said mildly, from directly behind him. "You could have killed your father, you know."



Reiji didn't jump—only because he refused to give him the satisfaction. He kept his eyes forward and scoffed.



"Yeah," he muttered. "Like that could kill you."



He glanced back, wary despite himself. "And you say that after what you just did?"



Homura looked at him as if Reiji had asked why water was wet.



"If you had died from that," he said evenly, "it would have proven my incompetence."



He paused just long enough to let the next words land.



"And afterward, I would have killed myself in shame."



Reiji stared at him.



Then, because this was his father—and because the world was unfair—Reiji found himself rolling his eyes instead of arguing.



"So?" he demanded. "Are you satisfied?"



Homura studied him for a moment, gaze sharp, assessing him.



"It was within my expectations," he said at last.



Reiji felt his shoulders loosen despite himself.



"It is," Homura added, "acceptable."



Reiji exhaled through his nose and nodded like it hadn't mattered.



Homura stood silently to the side, watching his son collect himself.



"So," Reiji said at last, still breathing hard, "are you going to tell me why you brought me here? Don't tell me it was just to see if you could excuse murdering your son while teaching him."



The corner of Homura's mouth twitched, faintly amused. "As entertaining as that notion is, no. Unfortunately, this is for academic purposes."



Without another word, he walked to a tall tree at the edge of the clearing. Then, in front of Reiji's stunned eyes, he stepped onto the trunk.



He didn't jump. He didn't lunge. He simply placed his foot against the bark as if the ground had decided to follow him upward.



His cane tapped the trunk as he climbed, as though it helped him ignore gravity. It didn't. The tapping was just habit. Control. A reminder of what he lacked, and what he still had.



He continued up, steady and deliberate, until he reached a thick branch. He stepped onto it, turned calmly—like a man crossing a hallway—and looked down.



"Do you see why it's important now?" he asked.



Reiji, still staring, could only nod. A few seconds later he managed, "How did you do that? Is it a jutsu?"



"Not quite." Homura's voice stayed even. "It's an application of chakra."



"My chakra can do that?" Reiji frowned. "How could I never notice it before? My feet never stuck to walls."



"Ratio," Homura said.



"Huh?"



"Your chakra circulates evenly through your body," Homura explained. "But you can control it—move it, shape it, release it. The Academy drills you with the basics. I've drilled you with the basics. You should be capable of this now."



Reiji's eyes glittered. "So if I control the amount of chakra I gather under my feet, I can do it too?"



"Exactly." Homura began to descend, walking back down the trunk with the same maddening ease.



Reiji watched him drop to the ground. "How much should I gather?"



"It depends on the person," Homura said. "Height, weight, constitution, chakra reserves. Everyone's body is different. There's no number I can give you. You'll learn through trial and error." He paused. "I estimate it will take you about a month to master it."



Reiji rolled his eyes. "It's just manipulating chakra. How could it take a month? Give me a day and it's in the bag."



Homura's expression stayed calm, but there was quiet amusement in his eyes. "Some people can learn it in a day," he said. "But you? I doubt it."



Reiji flushed. "You'll see."



He stormed toward the tree Homura had climbed. Up close, it looked taller—less like a tree and more like a wall. He glanced back and saw Homura already making himself comfortable, lowering himself against another trunk with care, cane planted beside him. He pulled out a book as if this were a peaceful morning stroll.



Reiji gritted his teeth and faced the bark.



He drew a slow breath, then closed his eyes and turned his awareness inward.



He found his chakra the way he always did—in the pulse behind his ribs, in the warmth of his breath, in the invisible current that ran through him like something separate from blood. It felt cold, but not freezing. Cool in a way that kept his head clear even under the sun.



It moved in him constantly, circulating like small rivers returning to the same places—stomach, chest, head—then spreading again.



Reiji furrowed his brow and guided that current down toward the soles of his feet. He gathered it there, concentrating, compressing, forcing it to stay—



Then he stepped.



The moment his foot touched bark, the chakra surged.



He snapped back a step as if the tree had rejected him.



He blinked and turned toward his father.



Homura didn't look up from his book. "Too much," he said. "Lower."



Reiji tightened his jaw and tried again.



He stepped.



*Boom.*



The bark cracked under his foot and he jolted back.



"Lower."



Again.



*Boom.*



"Lower."



Again.



*Boom.*



Reiji's breathing sharpened. The trunk bore new marks where he'd failed.



"Low—"



"I know," he snapped at last, flushing with embarrassment.



He inhaled hard, forced the heat down, and tried again—this time with as little chakra as he dared.



He placed his foot carefully.



*Step.*



It stuck.



Reiji's eyes widened. A grin spread across his face and he turned—



—and the instant his attention shifted, his foot slipped and he dropped back to the ground.



Homura's voice was dry. "It's not something you can do while thinking about something else."



Reiji scowled and faced the tree again.



*Step.*



*Step.*



He managed a second step—barely—face strained as he wrestled his chakra into place. But inside him the chakra fought back. It didn't want to sit still. It wanted to return to its circulation, to flow the way it always flowed, like his body rejected stillness.



His concentration faltered.



He slipped again.



Homura closed his book with a soft sound.



"You're trying to control chakra like it's stone," he said. "It's water."



Reiji blinked. "What?"



"Does your chakra lie still in your body?" Homura asked.



"…No."



"Of course not." Homura's voice stayed calm. "Like blood circulating in your veins, chakra circulates through your pathways. If it stopped, you'd die."



Reiji went pale.



Homura watched him for a beat, then added, almost impatiently, "Don't worry. You're not capable of doing that by accident. Nobody is. The body protects itself—like how it stops you from biting off your own fingers."



Reiji swallowed.



"You have to let it flow," Homura continued. "Don't try to make it sit still. Match its rhythm. Its speed. Guide it where you want without trying to strangle it."



Reiji nodded, understanding settling in his eyes.



He tried again.



And again.



And again.



But every time he thought he had it, he slipped.



The sun climbed. His legs started to burn. Sweat dampened the collar of his kimono. His pride burned hotter than his muscles.



*Why is it so hard?!*



Eventually Homura spoke again. "Come. It's time for breakfast."



Reiji turned, breathing hard. "Father… why can't I do it?" he demanded, frustration breaking through. "Am I that untalented? How can someone master this in one day, let alone just accomplish it?"



Homura studied him for a moment. Then he said, quietly, "It's a curse that comes with being blessed, son."



Reiji frowned. "What?"



"It's true some people can master it quickly," Homura said. "But it's much easier to tame a small stream than a raging river."



Reiji stilled.



"Having large chakra reserves is a gift," Homura continued. "And it is also a burden. The larger the flow, the harder it is to control precisely."



Reiji's mouth twisted. "You set me up."



Homura's eyes narrowed slightly. "If your head weren't so big, you wouldn't be fooled so easily."



Reiji scratched the back of his head, awkward, and didn't argue.



Homura's tone returned to its steady severity. "This exercise will teach you control. With your reserves, control matters more, not less. So take your time. Don't rush because of something as stupid as pride." He paused. "When you tell me you've mastered it, I want you to be able to do it without thinking. Under stress. Half-asleep. Do you understand?"



Reiji's frustration didn't vanish—but something sharper replaced it. Interest. Challenge.



He nodded, eyes bright. "Yes."



"For not forgetting where arrogance leads," Homura added, "you'll cook lunch today."



Reiji slumped. "You could just say you're lazy…"



---

Hello everyone!

I'm new here and thought I would start sharing my story here as well. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Thank you for taking the time to check it out! And tell me what you think !

 

[bunny0512]

I'm really enjoying this fic It's unique, especially since there aren't many stories set in Minato's era. I really hope you go into depth with the Third Shinobi World War

 

[TheSoulFrost]

---



Two weeks passed.



The forest had taught him.



What had once been a struggle, chakra slipping, balance breaking, had become something close to instinct. Now he could run up trunks without thinking, stop sideways on bark like it was flat ground, and leap between branches with the kind of lightness that made it feel unfair.



He enjoyed it more than he admitted.



He moved through the trees like he belonged there feet sticking, body turning, the world tilting beneath him until up and down meant nothing. For a few minutes at a time, he could almost forget his father's voice, the Academy, Minato's stupid face. There was only the rush of air, the snap of leaves, the grip of chakra under his soles.



Then he reached for a branch.



It was too thick.



His fingers slid over rough bark, failing to close properly and the next second the world dropped out from under him. He hit the ground hard enough to steal his breath, palms stinging where they scraped against dirt and stone.



He lay there for a moment, blinking up at the canopy, jaw tight.



So his feet could cling.



So what?



His father had told him to master it. And he still had two weeks left.



Reiji sat up slowly, flexed his hands, and stared at them like they'd insulted him.



If he could control chakra in his feet… why should he stop there?



Hands came next.



It would be less difficult than the feet had been, his hands were already used to chakra control from basic techniques but "less difficult" didn't mean easy. It still demanded precision. Still demanded patience.



And Reiji liked an new challenge.



---



On the way to school, he saw it again.



Kushina walking with Nawaki Senju.



He'd noticed it before, so it didn't surprise him anymore and after learning what "Uzumaki" meant, he could guess why.



The Academy had changed around her, too.



After that first day, nobody called her "tomato head" anymore. Nobody treated her like she was harmless. Sparring continued like normal, but the way they looked at her had shifted less mocking, more cautious.



When Kushina wasn't nervous, she wasn't bad. Sometimes she was even good for her age Reiji thought. She lacked finesse and couldn't match the best in the class, but she was stubborn in a way that was almost irritating. She didn't stay down. She got up again and again, like the floor didn't have the right to claim her.



Reiji understood that kind of stubbornness.



Strangely, he still hadn't sparred with Minato again. The teacher kept pairing him with boring opponents.



Normally that would have bothered him.



Today, he barely cared. Training was consuming him entirely.



He stopped mid-step when he saw Minato at the Academy entrance accompanied by a stranger.



A tall young man with long white hair, wearing a kimono, stood with him near the gate, speaking quietly. Reiji couldn't hear what they were saying from here, but he saw Minato smile and nod before the two parted ways.



Reiji watched the man's silhouette disappear around the corner of the street.



Adopted? He'd never seen Minato talking to an adult outside of class.



He knew Minato lived at the orphanage in the south of the village he'd gone there once out of curiosity. A small building, children running around, and the person in charge had been a woman. Not this man.



Maybe a caretaker. Someone from the village. Someone… new.



Reiji shrugged.



It wasn't his business who Minato spent his time with.



Good for him, I guess…



---



Class began.



As always, Reiji sat in the back. As always, no one sat near him.



He glanced toward Kushina with a complicated expression.



She was chatting happily with Mikoto Uchiha and Aya Shirakawa—full of motion even when she was still, hands moving, head tilting, voice too loud for a classroom. Nearby, the Inuzuka girl talked with her dog, laughing like the world was simple, while the Nara girl slouched over her desk, sleeping like always.



Reiji stared a little too long at the Inuzuka girl chatting with her dog before shaking his head and looking away and thought of his predicament.



Father wants me to befriend her.



Impossible.



Not counting the fact Kushina hadn't tried to sit with him again or speak to him after his rejection, Reiji couldn't bring himself to approach her. She was a walking disaster of noise and energy, and just imagining a conversation with her made his head hurt.



Then he paused.



Minato while talking to his friend kept stealing glances at Kushina.



Poorly hiding his curiosity.



Reiji's mouth twitched.



Ah. He wants to befriend her too ?



A sharp, petty thought flashed through Reiji's mind: I could her friend first.



For half a second he pictured Minato's face defeated, polite, trying not to show it.



Reiji blinked.



What the hell was that?



He shoved the image away like it was embarrassing.



And returned to the real problem.



His classmates' value.



After his discussion with his father, Reiji couldn't ignore it anymore. His classmates were stupid, loud, and yes… inferior.



But they were also future teammates.



And a teammate who hated you was dangerous.



The problem was, after humiliating Arata and giving that little speech, the class avoided him even more than before. Some whispered when he passed. Others stared too long, like they were waiting for the next incident.



Normally he would've been pleased.



Now it was inconvenient.



He needed… something.



A first step.



Reiji scanned the room, searching for a target and his gaze settled on Arata Uchiha, talking with the Hyūga twins.



An idea formed.



It was a terrible idea.



That didn't stop him.



Reiji stood abruptly and walked over, ignoring the startled looks that followed him.



He smiled wide.



"Hey, guys," he said brightly, waving like he belonged there. "Beautiful day, right?"



Arata stiffened like someone had pressed a bruise. The Hyūga twins blinked at him.



"…Not really," one of them said.



"Hello," the other added, polite by reflex.



Reiji kept smiling. "Huh? Of course it is. Look at this beautiful sun hanging in the sky— huh…"



"Hiashi," the first Hyūga corrected flatly. "Did you forget our names?"



"What?" Reiji laughed. "Of course not. You're just so identical I didn't know which one was who. Hahaha."



The second twin opened his mouth. "Well, what's my na—"



"Anyway," Reiji cut in smoothly, "what were you guys talking about? It sounded interesting."



Arata's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"



"What do you mean?"



"Why are you talking to us like we're friends?"



Reiji's smile twitched, but he held it. "Because I said it sounded—"



"We don't want to talk to you," Arata snapped. "Leave us alone."



Reiji's smile sharpened, too bright. "Come on. Don't be like that. We should let bygones be bygones, right?"



The Hyūga twins looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.



"Bygones?" Arata crossed his arms, chin lifting. "Sure. Let's do that. Apologize. Now."



Reiji blinked. "Huh? Apologize for what?"



"For what you did to me when we were sparring!"



"What did I do?"



Arata's face reddened. "Don't make me say it, you—"



"Beat you?" Reiji said lightly. "Come on, it was nothing. You're not so petty you're still sulking over a bruised ego, right? I expected something more mature from an Uchiha."



Arata's teeth clenched. "You—"



"Leave Arata alone, Homura."



Enji appeared beside them, flanked by three other classmates, his expression sharp with satisfaction like he'd been waiting for this.



Reiji's smile vanished.



He sighed, long-suffering, then lifted his hands as if surrendering to stupidity.



"Suit yourself."



He turned and walked back to his desk, leaving behind a cluster of tense, confused stares his classmates watching like they couldn't decide if they'd just witnessed a joke or a warning.



---



Nothing interesting happened for the rest of the morning apart from Arata staring at Reiji with an almost impressive amount of anger. He did it in class, in the hallways, even during drills, like his eyes were trying to carve a bruise into Reiji's back.



Reiji ignored him.



Mostly.



By afternoon, the instructor's patience had worn thin. The class had been loud all morning restless, distracted, still buzzing from whatever tension lingered between Uchiha pride and Reiji's mouth. So when they filed out onto the yard after lunch, the teacher didn't bother with warm-up lectures or neat lines of theory.



He pointed at the far side of the training grounds.



"Parkour course," he said. "Now."



The groans were immediate. Someone muttered a complaint. Someone else brightened, thinking it meant fun.



The course wasn't impressive compared to real shinobi training, but it was enough to filter the weak from the merely average.



A low stone wall marked the start. Beyond it, a staggered set of platforms rose like broken steps—wooden planks nailed to posts at uneven heights. Past that came the balance rail: a long beam running over packed sand, narrow enough that one mistake meant eating dirt. Then ropes hung in a row like vines, followed by a stacked crate climb and, at the end, a slanted wall leading up to a watch platform where a bell hung from a post.



It was meant to teach flow. Momentum. Decision-making.



Most of the class treated it like an obstacle course.



Reiji treated it like a ranking.



The instructor clapped once, sharp.



"Rules are simple.No touching. No pulling sleeves, no tripping, no shoulder-checking, no 'accidents.' You run your own line. Also no chakra to help you pass it easier just your physical abilities. If I catch anyone sabotaging someone else, you're off the course and you'll be doing laps until dinner."



A few students sighed dramatically. Kushina bounced on her toes like she couldn't wait. The Inuzuka girl whispered something to her dog.



Reiji's gaze drifted sideways.



Arata was already staring at him. His expression had changed since morning—less anger now, more cold intent, like he'd decided parkour was another spar.



Enji stood near him, arms folded, mouth curled faintly as if he'd been waiting for a chance to see Reiji lose in front of everyone.



Nawaki rolled his shoulders once, serious, focused.



And then—



Minato.



Standing like he didn't care whether he won or not, which somehow made it worse.



The instructor's voice cut in again.



"First group. Reiji. Arata. Enji. Nawaki. Minato."



A ripple went through the class at that—whispers, glances, the unspoken *oh, that's gonna be good.*



Reiji didn't look at them.



He stepped to the starting wall.



Arata joined him a moment later, close enough that Reiji could feel the heat of his irritation. Enji took the other side, smiling a little too much. Nawaki cracked his neck once and exhaled. Minato simply settled into place, calm as ever.



Reiji's eyes flicked to Minato's face.



Minato wasn't smiling. He wasn't tense either. His gaze was steady, attentive like he was watching Reiji the way you watched a problem you meant to solve.



Not judgment.



Curiosity.



Reiji hated it.



The instructor raised his hand.



"On my whistle—"



Reiji leaned forward slightly, weight on the balls of his feet.



A stupid, familiar excitement stirred under his ribs.



Don't be mediocre.



The words weren't his. They were his father's cold and familiar sliding into his skull like a knife.



The whistle shrieked.



They launched.



Reiji hit the stone wall first one step, palms, and he was up and over in a smooth vault. The platforms came next: uneven heights, spaced just far enough to punish hesitation.



Enji took them carefully, fast but cautious.



Nawaki went brute-force, landing heavy, making each jump count.



Arata pushed hard, angry energy feeding his speed.



Reiji barely heard them.



He landed light, foot placement exact, balance already shifting into the next move before the last one ended. He didn't need chakra to stick. The wood had enough grit. His control did the rest.



A shadow moved in his periphery.



Minato kept pace.



Not behind. Not chasing.



Beside.



Reiji's mouth tightened.



They hit the balance rail.



Most students slowed here. Arms out. Crouched stances. Panic.



Reiji ran.



His feet drummed the beam in a clean rhythm, shoulders steady, eyes forward.



Minato ran too , like the beam wasn't narrow at all.



Arata tried to match them and nearly slipped, catching himself with a sharp jerk that cost him a heartbeat. Enji hesitated for half a second, and Nawaki's heavy steps made the rail creak.



Reiji didn't look back.



He reached the end, dropped into a roll, came up already moving and took the rope section without swinging like an idiot.



He jumped, caught high, pulled once, and used the rope as a pivot to fling himself to the platform.



For a split-second he thought he'd made space.



Then Minato landed near-silent at the edge of his vision, as if he'd been there the whole time.



Reiji's stomach sparked with irritation.



'Of course.'



Crate climb.



Reiji skipped the footholds and went straight up—hands gripping wood, sandals finding edges. It was faster, sloppier, and it made his muscles burn.



He didn't care.



He crested the top—



—and Minato arrived at the same moment from a cleaner route, like he'd wasted no energy at all.



Below them, Enji was still climbing. Nawaki was almost there. Arata was pushing hard enough his face had gone red.



Reiji didn't spare them more than a flicker of thought.



Final wall.



A slanted stone surface leading up to the watch platform and the bell.



The safe way was the ladder set to the side.



The fast way was the wall.



Reiji took the wall.



He sprinted up the incline, fingers catching shallow gaps between stones, feet finding grip through sheer control. He felt the burn in his calves, ignored it, and reached for the top ledge—



Minato's hand appeared there too.



They pulled themselves up almost together.



Reiji's fingers brushed the bell rope—



—and he tugged first.



The bell rang sharp and bright.



For half a second, the yard went quiet.



Then noise spilled back in all at once—sharp breaths, startled murmurs.



Someone actually clapped—once—before stopping like they'd committed a crime.



Enji's smile had gone stiff.



Arata's face twisted, like the sound of the bell had scraped something raw inside him.



The instructor barked, "Reiji, first. Minato, second."



Reiji stood at the top, chest rising once, refusing to breathe hard. He looked down at the course like it was beneath him like he was above being bothered by a single bell.



But his eyes found Minato anyway.



Minato glanced over, faintly amused, like he'd enjoyed it.



Reiji looked away first.



Behind them, Nawaki hauled himself up with a grunt, Enji close after. Arata arrived last of the group, hands shaking with effort, eyes locked on Reiji with something uglier than morning anger.



Reiji pretended not to notice.



He told himself it didn't matter.



Still… he couldn't deny he enjoyed it.



Running, sliding, climbing—feeling someone close enough that he couldn't completely relax. It brightened an otherwise dull day, even if the person doing it was "just an orphan."



Why can't I just graduate already? Or quit altogether?



The Academy felt like a waste of time. If he didn't have to sit through lessons meant for idiots, he'd have mastered tree-walking in half the time maybe less. Instead, he was stuck in a class where only one other student was worth anything.



And that was… worrying, if he thought about the village's future.



When class finally ended, the students scattered. Reiji, as usual, didn't linger. He made a beeline for the forest.



---



The trees swallowed the village noise after only a few minutes. The air was cooler here, the ground softer, the silence honest.



Reiji stopped in front of a tall trunk and set his palms against the bark.



"Okay," he muttered. "Here we go."



He pushed chakra into his hands until they gripped like glue. Then, using only the force of his core, he lifted his lower body into a flag, feet balanced in the air and began to climb with slow, controlled movements.



Not even a minute later, he lost his rhythm and tumbled down.



He recovered mid-fall, twisted, and landed on his feet with a sharp grunt. His arms stung. His pride stung worse.



He straightened, ready to try again—



—and a voice cut through the clearing.



"What, so you were practicing like a monkey?"



Reiji turned.



Arata stood a few paces away, wearing a mocking smile. Three others flanked him.



Reiji's eyes swept over them in a single breath. Older, taller closer to graduation than him at least. All wore the Uchiha crest.



His gaze dropped to their waists and thighs: pouches, straps…. ninja tools.



Reiji didn't carry his. He kept them at home for today.



He smiled anyway.



"Hey, Arata," he said lightly. "Finally calmed down? Came to play with me?"



Arata chuckled. "Play with you, yes. Just not the kind you're imagining."



Reiji's smile sharpened.



"Good," he said. "I was getting bored."



---

 

[TheSoulFrost]

---

"Hey, Arata," Reiji said lightly, as though they had bumped into each other by accident and not in the middle of a forest clearing with three extra boys lingering nearby like a bad idea waiting to happen. "Finally calmed down? Came to play with me?"

Arata's mouth curled. "Play with you, yes. Just not the kind you're imagining."

Reiji kept his gaze on the older boys rather than Arata, his expression relaxed even as his attention measured them one by one. The taller one stood slightly ahead of the others, shoulders squared, while another drifted off to the side as if trying to close the space. Not random, then. Reiji let his smile sharpen faintly. "Oh, I think I've got a pretty good idea." His eyes flicked back to Arata. "I always thought you were pathetic, but you've reached a new low today. Is this what the Uchiha preach now? Ganging up because you don't have the guts to accept you're trash?"

Arata's teeth clicked together. He didn't answer.

One of the older Uchiha stepped forward, boots crunching lightly over dry leaves. He was taller and broader than the others, the kind of boy who probably believed a glare alone made him intimidating. "This has nothing to do with the clan," he said coldly. "You've been humiliating my little cousin day after day. You don't even try to hide it." His eyes narrowed. "Today you learn a lesson. Maybe you'll think twice before crossing him again."

Reiji shrugged, shifting his weight slightly as he felt the uneven forest floor beneath his sandals—roots pushing through the dirt, leaves sliding underfoot. "Call it whatever helps you sleep," he said. "It's still cowards propping up someone who can't take a loss."



They stopped talking.

They began to circle.

The forest clearing tightened around them as the boys spread out, boots crunching lightly over leaves and roots. Reiji shifted backward step by step until rough bark pressed against his spine. The tree behind him was thick and old, its trunk wide enough that three boys could not easily surround it without exposing themselves. He registered it instantly—one solid anchor at his back, the others forced to approach from the front.

Arata stood directly ahead, breathing through his nose, anger bright in his eyes. The three older boys spread to the sides like hunting dogs trying to cut off an escape route.

Reiji smiled at him.

"Come at me, weakling."

They rushed him all at once.

Reiji moved the instant their weight shifted forward. His palms slapped against the trunk behind him, chakra surging into his hands and feet as easily as breathing. The bark caught him like glue. For half a heartbeat he clung there, body compressed like a coiled spring.

Then he released.

His legs snapped forward as he pushed off the tree, both heels driving straight into Arata's face.

The impact landed with a dull crack of bone and air. Arata's head snapped backward and his body lifted off the ground entirely, thrown several meters back through the leaves before he collapsed onto the forest floor in a stunned sprawl.

Reiji didn't watch him fall.

His hands were already gripping the trunk again as momentum carried his body sideways. Chakra anchored him as he swung around the tree in a tight arc, feet skimming the ground. One of the older boys lunged toward where Reiji's head had been a moment earlier, his fist cutting through empty air.

Reiji cleared the strike by inches.

Still mid-swing, he tucked his knees briefly toward his chest, then extended both legs forward. His heels slammed directly into the stomach of the attacker approaching from the right.

The boy folded instantly. Air burst from his lungs in a broken wheeze as his body doubled over and staggered backward.

Reiji released the trunk and dropped lightly onto the forest floor, knees bending to absorb the landing. Leaves crunched under his sandals as he straightened.

Two opponents still stood.

The third was on the ground clutching his stomach.

Their earlier confidence had cracked. Reiji could see it in the hesitation of their steps.

"What?" Reiji spat, the grin gone now, replaced by something colder. "Come on. You absolute losers."

They charged again.

For a moment the fight became clean and simple—two against one.

One boy swung wide toward Reiji's head. Reiji lifted his forearm and redirected the blow past him, the impact sending a brief numb shock through his arm. The second attacker drove a kick toward Reiji's ribs. Reiji lifted his knee to intercept, absorbing the strike through his shin before stepping sideways to slip out of their combined reach.

Their movements were sloppy. Angry.

Reiji watched their shoulders, their hips, the direction of their weight.

'No coordination,' he noted calmly.

One lunged again.

Reiji ducked beneath the swing and seized the attacker's ankle as it passed him. A sharp twist of his hips pulled the leg sideways.

The boy lost balance and slammed flat onto his back.

Reiji turned immediately to finish him—

—and Arata crashed into him from the side.

The impact drove Reiji half a step sideways. Arata's shoulder slammed into his ribs with desperate force, his earlier humiliation burning through every movement.

Reiji planted his feet instantly. Chakra flooded into his soles, gripping the ground like roots sinking into soil.

They bounced off him.

Arata staggered back.

Then a fist came for Reiji's face.

Reiji twisted his head just in time, the punch grazing his cheek instead of breaking his nose. As the attacker's arm passed him, Reiji lunged forward and sank his teeth into the boy's forearm.

Hard.

Blood flooded his mouth instantly, hot and metallic. The boy screamed.

Everything froze for half a second.

Even Arata stared.

Reiji released the bite and kicked Arata in the chest, shoving him back across the leaves. The bitten boy stumbled away clutching his arm, eyes wide with horrified disbelief as blood ran down his sleeve.

Reiji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

His teeth were red now.

He smiled.

"What?" he asked pleasantly. "Don't tell me you're scared."

He scanned them quickly.

One groaning on the ground. One scrambling to his feet. One staring at his bleeding arm. Arata rigid between rage and something dangerously close to fear.

"Are you crazy…?" Arata whispered.

Reiji tilted his head slightly.

"You're the crazy one. I'm the only normal one here." His voice cooled. "What did you think would happen? That numbers would suddenly make you strong?"

He stepped forward.

"One weakling or four weaklings. Same result."

Another boy charged again, furious.

Reiji spat blood straight into his face.

The boy recoiled instinctively, eyes wide in disgust.

That hesitation was enough.

Reiji jumped forward and drove a flying kick into the side of his head. The impact snapped the boy sideways and dropped him immediately.

The forest fell quiet except for ragged breathing.

"Like I said," he muttered. "We're shinobi. Why are you getting scared over a little blood?"

Reiji glanced at the remaining boys with something like disappointment.

'No tactics. No feints. No coordination,' he thought.

'If they had any sense they'd have tried to force distance… or gone for weapons immediately.'

He could have escaped earlier. The trees above offered perfect cover. A single leap and he could have vanished into the canopy.

But he hadn't wanted to.

He wanted them to understand something.

Numbers meant nothing.

Movement flickered at the edge of his vision, Reiji moved—

Steel flashed.

Pain tore across his shoulder.

He landed a step away, breath steady.



A thin slash had opened in his kimono. Blood seeped slowly through the black cloth.



"Who said I was afraid of blood?"

Reiji raised his head.

Arata held a kunai.

His hand trembled.

His eyes did not.

The Sharingan burned red.

A single tomoe rotated slowly in the crimson iris.

Reiji felt something shift inside his chest—not fear, but something warmer, sharper.

Excitement.

'So that's it.'

He grinned slowly.

"Now we're talking."

He lifted his hand and curled his fingers in a come-here gesture.

Arata inhaled sharply.

The kunai aligned with Reiji's chest.

Not a warning.

A killing line.

Arata lunged—

—and a blur of red and brown slammed into him from behind.

He crashed face-first into the dirt.

Nawaki twisted Arata's arm behind his back, forcing the kunai hand upward. Kushina dropped onto Arata's legs with surprising strength, pinning him down.

"Let go of me!" Arata snarled, twisting against the grip that pinned his arm behind his back. "

I had him!"

"You want to murder him?!" Kushina shot back, her voice sharp with disbelief as she struggled to keep Arata's legs trapped beneath her weight. Her hands tightened reflexively as he jerked again. "What is wrong with you?!"

That word—murder—cut through the clearing like cold water.

Arata froze.

For a moment the tension drained from his body as if someone had pulled the strength out of him. His expression twisted, horror replacing the anger that had been driving him only seconds earlier. Slowly, hesitantly, as though his fingers no longer trusted themselves, he opened his hand. The kunai slipped from his grip and dropped into the dirt with a dull, final sound.

Nawaki exhaled in relief and loosened his hold, though he stayed close enough to grab Arata again if he tried something stupid. Kushina followed a second later, pushing herself upright but keeping a wary eye on him, as if she still expected him to lunge for the weapon again.

Reiji hadn't moved the entire time.

He simply watched the scene unfold, standing a few steps away with his weight balanced lightly over his feet, as if someone had interrupted a match he had already decided the outcome of. The wind stirred faintly through the trees overhead, rustling the leaves and carrying the smell of damp earth through the clearing.

"What are you doing here?" he asked flatly.

Kushina's gaze flicked away for a second, irritation crossing her face at being forced to explain herself. "We saw Arata talking to those guys earlier," she said. "We heard what they were planning, so we followed." Her eyes dropped briefly to the kunai lying in the dirt, her mouth tightening in visible disgust. "We didn't want to interfere… but when he pulled that out—"

Nawaki nodded once, jaw set. "Fights between classmates are one thing," he said, his voice quieter now but edged with anger. He looked down at Arata where the boy sat on the ground. "This is different. Why did you do it?"

Arata dragged an arm across his eyes, covering them as if the forest suddenly felt too bright. When he spoke, his voice cracked slightly.

"I… I just wanted him to regret his words for once." He swallowed hard. "I don't know what came over me."

Nawaki looked past him toward the older Uchiha boys who were slowly pulling themselves together, then back at Arata. His voice hardened.

"I'm not saying anything about what I saw today," he said carefully, each word measured. "But if you ever do this again, I will tell. Understand?"

Arata gave a small nod without lifting his arm from his face.

The upperclassmen wasted no time. They hauled the unconscious boy upright between them and began retreating quickly through the trees. Arata followed after a moment, throwing one last look back toward Reiji before disappearing into the forest with the others.

Reiji only smiled back.

The moment they vanished between the trees, the tension drained out of his shoulders. He let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Then he looked up—and found Kushina standing directly in front of him.

She had moved closer without him noticing. Her red hair filled half his vision.

Her eyes dropped immediately to his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she demanded, her tone sharp with urgency. "You need to treat that immediately."

Reiji glanced down at the cut.

The fabric of his kimono had been sliced open just enough for dark blood to seep through the cloth. The sting had dulled slightly now, settling into a steady, burning ache along his shoulder.

His mind began turning quickly.

'If I go home like this, Father will ask questions.'

'If I go to the hospital, they'll notify him.'

'And if he finds out I failed to "get along" like he told me…'

Reiji suppressed a quiet sigh.

"…Do you know someone who can heal me," he asked carefully, "without asking questions?"

Kushina and Nawaki exchanged a quick glance. It was the sort of silent conversation that lasted only a second but contained far more discussion than words ever could. Nawaki's expression shifted almost immediately into the look of someone who had just been handed responsibility he absolutely did not want.

Kushina, on the other hand, nodded eagerly.

Nawaki resisted for exactly one second.

Then he sighed.

"My mother can heal you," he said reluctantly.

Reiji's first instinct was to refuse.

Then an idea formed—quick and precise.

'Perfect, actually.'

---

They walked back toward the village as though nothing particularly serious had happened. The illusion was helped greatly by Reiji's black kimono, which swallowed most of the blood into its folds and shadows. From a distance he looked merely rumpled, like someone who had taken a fall and decided it wasn't worth mentioning.

A few shinobi passed them along the path leading toward Konoha. Some glanced briefly at the tear in Reiji's sleeve or the dried stain along the fabric, their eyes lingering for a moment before moving on. None of them stopped. In a village full of shinobi, people developed a very reliable instinct for minding their own business.

The silence between the three of them stretched longer than it should have.

It felt tight, uncomfortable, like a bandage pulled too hard.

Reiji cleared his throat.

"So… your mother's a healer?" he asked, trying to sound casually curious rather than desperate to break the silence.

Nawaki blinked once before nodding. "Yeah. She works at the hospital." He scratched the back of his head. "Today's her day off though, so she should be home." After a brief pause he added, "With my father."

Reiji considered that quietly as they walked.

Visiting a Senju house uninvited felt like the sort of decision that could become very inconvenient very quickly.

"…Is this really okay?" he asked. "Me showing up like this."

Nawaki stopped so suddenly that Reiji nearly walked straight into his back.

"Of course it's not—why would you think it's— ow!"

Kushina's foot connected cleanly with Nawaki's chin.

The kick was fast and practiced.

Nawaki staggered backward, clutching his jaw while his eyes watered in protest. Kushina, meanwhile, looked completely unbothered, as if she had simply adjusted her footing on the path.

He recovered quickly, pride arriving faster than common sense.

"I mean—" he said loudly, straightening his back as if the kick had improved his posture, "of course it's okay. A Senju always helps someone from Konoha!"

Reiji's gaze drifted toward Kushina.

She had already started walking again, her face turned slightly away. The tips of her ears were faintly pink. When she noticed him watching, she didn't explain anything. She simply continued forward with determined stubbornness, as if the moment had never happened.

Reiji didn't fully understand why she insisted on helping him—especially after their past interactions—but his father's voice echoed quietly in his thoughts.

'Be closer to your classmates.'

'Make yourself useful.'

'Make yourself connected.'

And if those classmates happened to include the heir of the Senju clan and the red-haired girl his father had specifically told him to befriend…

Then ruining it with a poorly chosen remark would be extremely stupid.

So he did something unusual.

He kept his mouth shut.

They climbed the cliff where the Hokage faces were carved into the mountain, the massive stone figures watching over the village below like silent guardians. Up close the scale was unsettling. The legends carved into the rock—Hashirama's calm expression, Tobirama's stern gaze—felt almost unreal compared to the very ordinary boy walking beside him who had just been kicked in the chin.

Reiji caught himself staring.

Nawaki noticed immediately and shot him a curious look.

Reiji shook his head.

Nothing.

He reminded himself of the rule he had decided on earlier: say nothing that might irritate this simpleton.

Beyond the monument the path narrowed into forest again. There was no proper road here—no signs, no gates, nothing to suggest that anyone lived nearby. Just tall trees, thick roots pushing through the soil, and the faint rustle of leaves shifting in the breeze. And yet Nawaki and Kushina walked with the casual certainty of people who knew exactly where they were going.

They stopped in front of a perfectly ordinary tree.

Reiji stopped as well, mostly because there was very little else to do when the people leading you suddenly decided that a tree was the most important destination in the world.

Kushina turned to face him.

She didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Give me your hand."

Reiji frowned. "Why?"

"Don't ask," she snapped, her voice carrying a strange mixture of impatience and embarrassment. "Just—give it."

Reiji hesitated for a moment, long enough to make it clear that he was not the kind of person who held hands without at least questioning it.

Then he lifted his arm.

Their fingers touched.

The world shifted.

Not dramatically—there was no flash of light, no obvious distortion like the crude illusions taught in the Academy. Instead the change felt subtle and precise, like a lock clicking open after the correct key had finally been inserted.

The forest blurred at the edges.

The air itself seemed to rearrange.

And then the trees that had surrounded them simply… weren't there anymore.

Reiji blinked.

A wide clearing stretched out before them, quiet and sunlit as though it had been patiently waiting to be discovered. Grass moved gently in the wind, and the scent of clean earth replaced the dense forest smell that had filled the air moments before.

In the center of the clearing stood a large traditional house.

It was built from dark polished wood, its wide roof curving elegantly over deep verandas. The structure looked peaceful—almost too peaceful—like something preserved outside the passage of time.

For the first time since the fight, Reiji forgot to hide his reaction.

"…So that's how it is," he murmured.

Kushina released his hand instantly, turning away as if the entire thing had nothing to do with her.

Nawaki, meanwhile, looked immensely pleased with himself.

"Welcome," he announced proudly, spreading his arms toward the house. "Senju residence."

Reiji didn't answer right away. He remained standing near the gate, studying the place carefully.

Nawaki chuckled under his breath. "I always like that face," he said. "People's reactions when they see it for the first time are always hilarious."

Reiji glanced sideways at him.

"Is this a genjutsu?"

"Tch. Not quite." Nawaki tilted his head smugly. "But you're close."

"Fūinjutsu then," Reiji said.

Nawaki blinked. "Huh. How do you know?"

Reiji shrugged lightly. "I guessed."

"You're boring," Nawaki muttered, rolling his eyes as he started up the path toward the house.

Reiji followed.

As they approached, the details became clearer. At first glance the house looked traditional, almost simple—but the closer he looked, the more irregularities he noticed.

Small seals were carved subtly into the wooden beams where a normal house would have smooth surfaces. Paper charms had been tucked carefully beneath the eaves. Even the air carried a faint pressure, something not quite chakra but close enough that his instincts recognized it.

Nawaki slid the door open without hesitation and called inside with impressive volume.

"Mom! Dad! We're home!"

Reiji flinched slightly at the noise.

Footsteps answered almost immediately from within.

A woman appeared in the hallway a moment later, moving with quick, practiced steps. She looked middle-aged, her black hair pinned back neatly, her violet eyes warm when she smiled.

"Well," she said gently as she stepped forward, "it was about time you two came back. Your father and I were starting to worry."

Before Nawaki could react, she pulled both him and Kushina into a quick embrace.

Nawaki stiffened immediately, his face contorting with visible suffering.

"Mo—Mom," he protested, voice strained, "not now. We have someone with us."

She released them and finally looked up.

Her gaze landed on Reiji.

He stood just inside the entrance, shoulders straight, posture carefully neutral.

"H-hello," he said.

It came out more awkwardly than he intended.

She didn't respond.

Her attention had already shifted.

Her eyes dropped immediately to his shoulder.

To the dark stain on the fabric.

To the way the cloth clung where the blood had dried.

The warmth in her expression vanished.

Her eyes narrowed sharply.

"What happened?" she asked.

This time it was not a polite question.

---

Reiji watched the green glow spread across his skin in quiet disbelief as the wound on his shoulder vanished. He had seen healing jutsu before—slow hands, careful chakra control, the uncomfortable pull of torn flesh knitting itself back together—but this was different. Faster. Cleaner. The chakra flowed through the cut like calm water over stone, erasing the injury with almost casual efficiency.

"It should be fine now," the woman said.

She was crouched beside him, her hand still faintly glowing as the last traces of chakra faded. Her tone was relaxed, almost cheerful, as if sealing a deep cut was no more troublesome than tying a bandage.

Reiji's gaze lingered briefly on her eyes—amethyst, steady, sharp in a way that reminded him unpleasantly of someone used to seeing through excuses. He looked away too quickly and muttered a quiet, "Thank you."

He wasn't entirely sure when he had sat down. One moment they had entered the house, Kushina disappearing down a hallway with hurried steps, and the next this woman had appeared in front of him as if she had been waiting for the scent of blood to reach her.

She had guided him to the couch without hesitation, pushed his sleeve up, and begun working.

Her movements had been practiced, efficient.

Her scent carried faint traces of antiseptic and something softer beneath it—flowers, maybe.

"Now," she said, still crouched beside him, her voice gentle but firm, "what happened? Tell me."

"It was nothing," Reiji said quickly. "I was training with kunai and… I messed up."

A small crease formed between her brows.

Two fingers reached forward and pinched his cheek.

"Ow—what was that for?"

"For lying to me," she replied calmly.

The smile on her face never disappeared, but the certainty in her tone left no room for argument.

"Do you think I can't tell the difference between a wound from a thrown weapon and one from a slash?"

Reiji turned his head slowly and glared at Nawaki.

Nawaki lifted both hands in surrender.

"Give it up," he said. "My mom works at the hospital. She'll know."

"She always knows," he added, as though that explained everything.

Reiji let out a small, annoyed breath before giving up the lie.

"It was a dispute," he said. "With some classmates."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Where are they now?"

Reiji lifted his chin.

"Gone."

He leaned back slightly against the couch, sounding almost satisfied.

"I beat them. So they ran."

She sighed quietly through her nose.

"Boys…"

Then her expression sharpened again.

"And why do you have a kunai wound if this was 'just' a dispute between classmates?"

"I beat them alone," Reiji replied matter-of-factly. "So one of them got angry."

He shrugged.

"Couldn't handle it."

He watched her closely, waiting for something—approval, perhaps, or surprise.

She gave him neither.

Instead she turned toward Nawaki.

"Who was it?" she asked. "That kind of behavior among Academy children is dangerous. I should speak with the teacher."

"No—don't worry, Mother," Nawaki said quickly. "I already handled it. He regrets it. It won't happen again, I guarantee it."

"No," she said.

The single word carried far more weight than his entire explanation.

"Tell me."

Nawaki's jaw tightened.

"I promised," he said. "I can't."

Her eyes flicked toward Reiji.

He shook his head once.

For a moment the warmth in the room cooled slightly.

"Honestly…" she murmured quietly, more to herself than to them. "What is happening to children these days? Trying to kill each other before they even graduate…"

Her gaze hardened.

"What are we—Kirigakure?"

Reiji flinched before he could stop himself.

"Tsukiko," a calm voice said from the doorway.

Reiji looked up.

A blond man stood at the entrance to the room, wearing a simple but well-kept kimono. His posture was straight but relaxed, his short beard neatly trimmed, his brown eyes calm and observant.

"Don't say that in front of them," he said gently. "You'll scare them."

"But Kiyoshi," Tsukiko replied sharply, turning toward him, "someone tried to stab him. Another child."

"That's serious."

"I know," Kiyoshi said.

His tone remained steady, controlled.

He looked briefly toward Nawaki and smiled slightly.

"But have some faith in your son. He said nothing will happen now."

He tilted his head toward Nawaki.

"Right, son?"

Nawaki brightened instantly, relief flooding his expression.

"Yes."

Kiyoshi spread his hands lightly.

"See?"

"Nothing to worry about."

Tsukiko rolled her eyes.

"Don't think I'm forgetting about this," she said. "Not knowing who did it—especially if they're in the same class as Nawaki."

She folded her arms.

"What would you do if they tried that on him?"

Nawaki waved dismissively.

"Ah, you don't have to worry. He just hates Reiji. He doesn't have anything against me."

Tsukiko stared at him.

Unimpressed.

Then she turned back to Reiji.

"Is that true?"

Reiji shrugged.

"More or less."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I'll still look into it," she said. "You may not be my child, but knowing something like this happened…"

Her hand rested lightly on his head.

"…I can't do nothing."

Then, softer,

"Were you scared?"

Heat crept up Reiji's neck.

"Of course not," he said too quickly.

"He didn't scare me."

Tsukiko's smile returned, small and knowing.

"Oh? Really?"

"Yeah," Reiji said, puffing his chest slightly. "He's nothing."

"You should see his face now."

Kiyoshi clapped his hands once, the sound crisp and decisive.

"Enough," he said. "That's settled."

His tone shifted smoothly.

"It'll be time to eat soon."

He looked toward Reiji.

"Would you like to stay with us?"

"I can send a message to your parents if you want."

The image came to Reiji immediately.

His father sitting at home.

Two plates set out.

Waiting.

His stomach tightened.

"No," he said quickly.

He steadied his voice.

"Thank you for the offer, but I should go."

He stood and bowed slightly.

"Thank you for healing me… Miss Senju."

Tsukiko made a soft, amused sound and ruffled his hair.

"Tsukiko," she corrected gently.

"And my husband is Kiyoshi."

Kiyoshi lifted a hand in greeting.

"It is always my pleasure to welcome Kushina—and Nawaki's friends—here."

Nawaki opened his mouth to say something.

Reiji caught his eye immediately and sent him a warning look.

Nawaki closed his mouth.

Reiji turned toward the door—

—and Kushina appeared beside them, stepping out from the hallway.

She slowed as she approached, her expression uncertain.

"Grandmother wants to meet you," she said quietly.

----


Thank you for taking the time to check it out! And tell me what you think

 

[TheSoulFrost]

I'm really enjoying this fic It's unique, especially since there aren't many stories set in Minato's era. I really hope you go into depth with the Third Shinobi World War

Click to shrink...

Thanks you ! And yes, i mainly write it to explore the shinobi wars, too much legendary characters that we had barely seen

 

[TheSoulFrost]

Reiji followed Kushina up the narrow wooden staircase in silence, the boards creaking faintly under their steps. The house was quiet in that particular way old places often were—every sound softened by thick walls and long years of habitation. The smell of herbs drifted faintly through the corridor above, bitter and medicinal, mixing with the scent of old paper and polished wood.

Why did her grandmother want to see him?

The question had been circling in his mind since Kushina had dragged him inside the house. Reiji could make a few guesses, but none of them were particularly comforting.

"I don't know," Kushina said suddenly, glancing over her shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs. She sounded defensive, as if she had sensed the question hanging behind him. "I told her I came back with a classmate who was wounded. She asked for your name, so I told her." Her eyes slid toward him from the corner, sharp and curious. "After that she told me to bring you to her. Do you have any idea why?"

Reiji did.

Or at least he had a fairly good suspicion what hearing his name had done.

"No idea," he replied calmly.

Kushina's brows drew together immediately. She studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, then huffed in irritation and turned forward again. "If you don't want to tell me, just say so."

"I don't want to tell you."

Her head snapped back around and the glare she sent him could have stripped bark off a tree.

They walked the last stretch of the corridor without speaking. The house grew quieter the farther they went, until even the sounds of the street outside faded away. At the very end stood a single sliding door, plain and closed, its wooden frame polished smooth by age.

Reiji felt himself straighten slightly before he even realized it.

Kushina stopped in front of the door and turned toward him, her face suddenly serious.

"Don't you dare talk rashly in front of Grandma," she whispered sharply. "If you do, I'll finish you."

Reiji's mouth twitched.

"Noted," he said lightly. "I never disrespect my elders."

Kushina stared at him for several seconds, clearly trying to determine whether that answer was genuine or mockery. Eventually she let out a slow breath, as if deciding she had no better options, and raised her hand to knock.

"Grandmother," she called through the door. "It's me. Reiji is here."

A moment passed.

Then a voice answered from inside, dry and rasping but steady.

"You may enter."

Kushina slid the door open and stepped aside. Reiji followed her into the room.

The smell struck him immediately.

Medicinal herbs. Bitter and sharp, strong enough to sting the back of his nose. The scent mingled with old paper and lacquered wood, the kind of smell that clung to rooms where people spent long hours reading or recovering from illness.

The room itself was simple but carefully maintained. A low table sat beside a raised bed against the far wall. On the table rested a steaming cup that carried most of the herbal scent. Shelves lined one side of the room, filled with scrolls and books stacked with quiet precision.

And sitting upright against the pillows was an old woman.

She held a book open in both hands.

At first glance she looked old—truly old. Not the exaggerated frailty of legend, but the natural wear of someone who had simply lived longer than most people ever did. Deep lines marked her face, and her gray hair had been gathered into two familiar buns, with the rest falling down her back in a thick curtain.

Yet something about her presence refused to match the fragility of the body.

On her forehead, unmistakable even from the doorway, rested a diamond-shaped mark.

Her eyes lifted from the page.

They were violet.

The same shade Reiji had seen before—Tsukiko's eyes—but sharper somehow. Clearer. Too awake for someone meant to be nearing the end of her life.

She smiled warmly when she saw him.

"Hello, young Reiji," she said gently. "Thank you for coming, despite the suddenness. I won't take much of your time."

Reiji inclined his head slightly, careful with his posture as he observed her. Frail, his instincts noted immediately. The arms were thin, the shoulders narrow.

But the eyes…

The eyes belonged to someone who had watched kingdoms rise and fall.

"Don't worry," Reiji replied evenly. "It's an honor to meet the First Hokage's wife in person."

Beside him, Kushina shot him a surprised look.

Mito chuckled softly, a low amused sound.

"Kukuku. A perceptive young one."

"It's nothing," Reiji said with a small shrug. "There aren't many people old enough to have lived alongside the Senju. And when an Uzumaki calls you 'Grandmother'…"

Mito nodded, clearly pleased by the reasoning.

"I see. Logical enough." A faint smile lingered on her lips as she set the book aside with deliberate care. "Being remembered only as Hashirama's wife by the younger generation… I suppose I can accept that."

Her gaze returned to him.

"My name is Mito Uzumaki. It is nice to meet you."

The violet eyes sharpened slightly.

"Homura Reiji. Correct?"

Reiji nodded once.

"Kushina speaks of you," Mito continued.

"Oh really?" Reiji replied mildly.

"Grandma!" Kushina blurted, her voice rising in alarm.

Mito waved a dismissive hand without even looking at her. "It's nothing, child. Don't be embarrassed."

Reiji turned his head just enough to see Kushina's face.

It was bright red.

He kept his own expression perfectly innocent.

Mito noticed the reaction immediately. Her eyes flicked to him and the smile on her face grew just a little more knowing.

"She speaks of you often," the old woman added calmly.

Kushina made a strangled sound somewhere between outrage and humiliation.

"Grandma—"

Mito ignored her entirely.

"She says you're quite handsome," she continued, voice pleasantly conversational, "and quite unpleasant."

Kushina looked ready to disappear through the floor.

"Stop!"

Reiji did not laugh. He only allowed the faintest hint of amusement to touch the corner of his mouth—a polite curve that somehow made the situation worse.

Mito studied him for a moment, clearly entertained.

"You shouldn't be ashamed, Kushina," she said gently. "I can already tell he will grow into a strapping young man."

Her violet eyes glittered with quiet mischief.

"Perhaps even more than my late husband."

Kushina said nothing.

She simply covered her burning face with both hands, her ears turning an even deeper shade of red.



Reiji tilted his head slightly, the faint smile that had lingered on his face fading as the conversation drifted away from Kushina's embarrassment. The playful tone of the room no longer held his interest, and the quiet weight of Mito's gaze made the air feel heavier than it had a moment ago.

"Not to say this isn't entertaining," he said at last, voice calm but edged with impatience, "but is there a reason you asked me here? Or did you only want to meet Kushina's classmate?"

Mito nodded once, as if she had expected the question.

"I wanted to meet you, yes." Her eyes remained fixed on him, studying his posture, the set of his shoulders, the tension in the way he held his arms at his sides. "Kushina and Nawaki speak highly of your talent. Is that true?"

Reiji didn't hesitate.

"It is."

Mito hummed quietly, as if storing the answer somewhere among many older thoughts. Then her expression softened, though the sharpness in her gaze never quite disappeared.

"Good. Then take care of Kushina and Nawaki, will you? You may not be socially inclined, but it warms me to see you speaking to each other." She paused, the faintest smile touching her lips. "You are family, after all."

Reiji's eyes rolled before he could stop them.

"With respect, Mito-sama…" he said, letting out a quiet breath through his nose. "I only have one family. My father. Nothing more."

Mito blinked.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, genuine surprise coloring her voice. "Nawaki and you are distant cousins. Did you not know?"

Reiji went completely still.

The words hung in the air like something misplaced.

"What…?" His voice came out flatter than he intended. "Me and Nawaki?"

"Yes." Mito leaned forward slightly, studying him more carefully now. "Your grandmother was a Senju, no?"

Reiji's eyes shifted away.

"I… don't talk about that much with my father."

Mito's expression tightened.

"He didn't tell you?" she asked quietly. "Not even your grandfather?"

Reiji's shoulders stiffened.

"I don't see my grandfather."

For several seconds Mito simply watched him. The compassion that slowly appeared in her eyes wasn't loud or dramatic. It was quiet, and somehow that made it worse.

"Kushina," she said gently, without taking her gaze off Reiji, "leave us for a few minutes, please."

Kushina blinked. "Huh? But why?"

"Something private."

Kushina hesitated, clearly unhappy with being dismissed, but she nodded eventually. Before leaving she shot Reiji a sharp warning look, the kind that promised consequences if he said something stupid.

Reiji only shrugged.

She stepped outside and slid the door closed behind her.

The room fell into silence.

"I didn't know it was this bad," Mito said softly. "If I had, I would have spoken differently. You have my apologies."

Reiji blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity.

"What are you apologizing for?" he asked. "You couldn't have known. And you couldn't have done anything about it."

Mito exhaled slowly, the sound carrying a fatigue that seemed deeper than age.

"I know your grandfather well enough," she said. "For him, the village is everything… and pride sits close behind it."

Her gaze lingered on Reiji.

"But he listened to me once. I should have said something then."

Reiji said nothing.

"I know it is difficult," Mito continued, "to grow in this village with the knowledge of what happened. Of what your father did."

Reiji's posture locked, every muscle in his shoulders tightening.

"But it should also be proof," she added quietly, "that your father loves you, even if your grandfather cannot accept it."

Reiji's throat tightened.

"Why does it matter why my father did it?" he asked, voice rougher now. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm here. That I'm a mistake he can't remove."

Mito watched him carefully.

"Hiruzen does not resent you," she said. "He would never place blame on a child who had no control over it. He isn't cruel like that."

Reiji looked up.

"But my father—?"

"Your father…" Mito paused, weighing her words carefully. "It is difficult, yes. But Hiruzen understands him. And you being here with him should be proof of that."

Reiji lowered his gaze again, jaw tight.

"I know," he muttered. "That doesn't make it easy."

"I know," Mito replied softly, and regret lingered in her voice. "And knowing that pains me to do this. But I must."

Reiji looked up again.

"Kushina told me what happened today," Mito said calmly. "Tell me, young Reiji—why don't you get along with your classmates?"

The change in topic struck him harder than he expected.

The room felt smaller.

For a moment he couldn't decide what kind of question this was.

Concern.

Curiosity.

Or judgment.

The weight behind it reminded him uncomfortably of standing before the Hokage's desk.

"I… don't know," he said slowly. "No specific reason. We just don't get along."

Mito watched him for a long time.

Then she said quietly,

"You should stop."

Reiji frowned.

"Stop what?"

Mito didn't raise her voice.

"I've lived long enough," she said, "to recognize the difference between defense… and malice."

Her gaze remained steady.

"And I can feel which one was in you today."

Reiji's jaw set.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do."

"I defended myself," he snapped, sharper now. "A group jumped me, and one of them was crazy enough to slash me with a kunai. Are you giving me a sermon for not letting myself get stabbed?"

Mito didn't flinch.

"You speak as if that isn't what you wanted in the first place."

Reiji froze.

Reiji's breath stopped for half a second before he realized it had. His fingers tightened slowly at his sides, nails pressing into his palms.

For a brief moment his mind went completely blank, the way it sometimes did when someone struck too close to the truth.

Mito's expression remained calm.

"It's strange speaking with you," she continued. "You sound mature for your age. Intelligent." Her fingers rested lightly on the blanket. "And yet you don't seem aware of your own nature."

Reiji forced himself to breathe.

His chest felt tight.

"I expected better from Mito Uzumaki," he said quietly. "Bashing a child without mercy."

Mito's lips curved faintly.

"You aren't a child in the way most children are," she replied. "I've seen those eyes before. Some only gain them after battle."

Reiji's hands curled at his sides before slowly loosening again.

Mito leaned back against her pillows.

"Answer me one thing," she said. "If Kushina and Nawaki hadn't stopped that boy today… what would you have done?"

"Defend myself."

"That's not what I asked."

Reiji narrowed his eyes.

"What did you want to do?" Mito continued. "If no one had interrupted you—where would you have stopped?"

Silence stretched between them.

"When you fight," she said softly, "do you want to win… or do you want to feel something?"

The question lingered in the now quiet room.

Reiji didn't answer.

His eyes dropped to the floorboards for a moment, following the grain of the wood without really seeing it.

Reiji remained still for several seconds.

Then he lifted his head.

"What do you ask if you already know the answer?" he said, scorn sharpening his voice. "You've spoken to me for minutes and you're already talking like you've grasped my whole being. Are you always like this?"

His stomach tightened.

The words came anyway.

"I almost pity the First Hokage. Winning wars just to lose his peace to you."

Mito chuckled quietly.

"Perhaps," she said lightly. "Hashirama was always easy to push around."

The amusement faded slightly from her eyes.

"Why did you come to this house tonight?"

Reiji scowled.

"Nawaki said his mother could heal me." He looked away. "Now I know I shouldn't have listened."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mito said.

"Don't," Reiji snapped. "You're just one of many who will say it."

"By your fault," she asked calmly, "or not?"

"Both."

His shoulders tightened.

"I can't stand people. Especially people like you—who think you know everything because you're old, or because your bloodline is prestigious." His gaze hardened. "Don't be arrogant just because you shared a roof with the First. Old goat."

Mito watched him quietly, the sadness in her expression sincere rather than offended.

"I pity you, child."

Reiji let out a short, humorless laugh.

"What did you think that would do? Saying that to me?"

"I'm not surprised," Mito replied calmly. "But you still haven't answered honestly."

Her eyes held his.

"Why did you come here tonight? Why didn't you go to the hospital… or home?"

Reiji hesitated.

"Because I didn't want my father to worry."

For a brief moment Mito's gaze softened.

Then the softness vanished.

"That answer is human," she said. "But it isn't whole."

She tilted her head slightly.

"You didn't come here only to spare your father. You came here because you thought this house would change something."

Reiji stared at her.

"Everyone wants something from someone else," he said flatly. "Friendship is the same. Why is that a problem?"

"Because what you want isn't friendship," Mito replied. "I told you already."

Her voice remained gentle.

But it carried weight.



"I can sense malice in people. Call it an Uzumaki trait if you wish. I've grown attuned to it."

Reiji's head lifted slightly. He studied her face, searching for any sign that she was joking.

"Malice?"

Her gaze didn't leave him.

"And you, boy…" Mito said quietly. "You feel no warmth toward my grandchildren."

Her gaze did not move.

"Not toward Kushina. Not toward Nawaki."

She paused slightly.

"You're simply using them."

Reiji scoffed.

"You really are crazy. I never wanted them harmed. What are you talking about?"



"Perhaps not harm," Mito said. "But not good, either."



Reiji shook his head.

"You're seeing things that aren't there."

Mito didn't react.





"You have my apologies," she said quietly. "I wanted this discussion to be different. Perhaps it could have been, if I'd had time."

Her fingers settled on the blanket.

"But you're right about one thing. I don't have much time left. So I needed to say it before it was too late."

Reiji's expression hardened.

"One thing you got right," he said. "It is too late."

He stood.

He hated that she sounded disappointed rather than angry.

He crossed the room and slid the door open.

"I hope we don't meet again," he added without turning around. "From what I see, it won't be difficult."

Behind him Mito's voice followed, quiet but final.

"If you cannot see Kushina and Nawaki as friends… and not as means to an end… then do not become closer to them, please."

Reiji didn't answer.

He stepped out and shut the door.

The wood struck the frame with a sharp, echoing bang.



---



He didn't remember what he had said to Kushina and the others before leaving. The words had blurred into noise the moment he stepped outside, already dissolving into something shapeless, as if his mind refused to hold onto them.

He only realized where his feet had carried him when the trees thinned and the wind struck his face.

The cliff overlooking the Hokage Monument stretched out beneath the night sky, the massive stone faces carved into the mountain watching over the sleeping village like silent judges. The air was colder up here. Wind moved freely along the ridge, rushing up the slope of the mountain and tugging at his hair, snapping softly at the loose sleeves of his kimono.

Reiji walked toward the edge without really deciding to.

The dark outline of the monument loomed beside him, the four Hokage gazing endlessly over the rooftops of Konoha. Lanterns glowed faintly between the streets below, scattered like small islands of gold in the dark.

'What the fuck does she think she is?'

The thought surfaced sharp and hot.

He wanted this? He wanted that waste of space to jump him? To wound him?

Don't make him laugh.

He had defended himself. That was all. He hadn't stabbed anyone. He hadn't ambushed anyone. The boy had tried to carve him open with a kunai and he had beaten him for it—fair and square.

If the brat couldn't stand that, too bad.

If he wanted respect, he could train until he earned it.

Until then he was nothing.

A weakling with a loud mouth and soft hands.

Reiji's jaw tightened as he stepped closer to the cliff's edge, gravel crunching softly under his sandals.

And that woman—Mito Uzumaki—had spoken to him for a few minutes and already decided what he was.

He had restrained himself in that house.

Stayed polite.

Even when she spoke like she understood him.

As if she understood anything.

The wind surged harder across the ridge, carrying with it the distant smell of the village below—wood smoke, cooking fires, damp earth, and the faint scent of the forest that surrounded Konoha on every side.

From this height the village looked small.

Roofs formed uneven clusters of shadow and lantern light. Narrow streets wound between them like dark veins. People moved down there somewhere, tiny shapes drifting through warm rooms and quiet houses, their lives distant and quiet.

Reiji stared down at it.

'You've spoken to me for minutes and you think you understand me.'

The anger in his chest twisted slowly, tightening into something colder and more focused.

He had lived his entire life inside the village's quiet disdain.

Sometimes it wasn't even spoken aloud.

It was simply there.

In the way voices dropped when he passed.

In the way doors closed a little faster.

In the way smiles stiffened.

He was used to it.

But hearing it from her—Hashirama Senju's wife, one of the founders of the village itself—landed differently.

It stung.

'No', he corrected himself immediately.

'Don't feel anything.'

She didn't know him.

And he didn't know her.

She is nothing.

A question surfaced in his mind, unwelcome and quiet.

'Do you fight to win… or to feel something?'

Reiji let out a slow breath.

A faint smile touched his lips.

'What a stupid question.'

The wind surged again, stronger this time, slamming against his chest and tugging at the ends of his hair like invisible hands trying to drag him forward.

He stepped closer to the edge.

Closer still.

Until his toes extended past the edge and empty air opened beneath them.

Then he turned his back to the drop.

The stone ridge was narrow beneath his feet, the edge sharp and unforgiving. Reiji slowly spread his arms, adjusting his balance the way a shinobi did when testing unstable footing—shifting weight from heel to toe, feeling how the stone responded beneath his sandals.

The wind pressed harder against his chest.

He leaned back.

And stepped.

The ground vanished.

For a single heartbeat there was nothing beneath him.

The sky stretched wide above, black and endless, filled with distant stars.

Then gravity took him.

The wind roared upward along the cliff face and struck him with brutal force. His stomach lurched violently as the world dropped away beneath him, the sudden fall wrenching the breath from his lungs. His kimono snapped violently in the rushing air while the cliff and forest blurred past in streaks of shadow and stone.

He fell fast.

Too fast.

But for a few seconds he did nothing.

His body hung suspended in the open air, the world roaring past him as gravity dragged him downward.

Weightless.

Free.

The anger that had burned in his chest moments ago vanished in the violent rush of wind and speed. Mito's voice, the argument, the humiliation—everything dissolved beneath the raw sensation of falling.

For those few seconds there was only motion.

Only air.

Only the cold emptiness of the sky.

And for the briefest moment he felt something close to peace.

Then instinct snapped back into place.

Reiji twisted sharply in midair.

His shoulders rotated first, hips following as he forced his body to pivot against the rushing wind. The sky vanished from view as he turned, the cliff face surging into his vision beside him. Stone streaked past in a blur—jagged outcroppings, cracks in the rock, thin roots clinging stubbornly to the mountainside.

His mind sharpened instantly.

Now.

Chakra surged through his body, flowing down through his legs in a controlled pulse. He forced it into his feet the same way he had practiced countless times on trees and training posts.

But this wasn't a tree.

And he was falling much faster.

He slammed both feet into the vertical stone.

The impact exploded through his bones like a hammer strike.

His sandals scraped violently against the rock as chakra flared outward, trying to anchor him to the cliff face. The contact held for only a fraction of a second before gravity tore him downward again, friction screaming beneath his feet as loose dirt and fragments of stone burst outward.

Too much momentum.

His body dropped again.

Reiji reacted immediately.

He threw his hands forward.

Both palms struck the rock.

Pain erupted instantly as the rough surface tore into his skin. Chakra surged through his arms, snapping into place the same way it had in his feet, forcing his hands to cling to the stone.

For a moment he was half-attached, half-sliding.

Gravity dragged him downward while chakra fought to hold him in place. His sandals scraped harshly against the cliff as his feet struggled to maintain contact, friction burning through the fabric and leather.

His arms trembled violently.

The strain tore through his shoulders and back as his muscles locked under the sudden force. His teeth clenched hard enough to make his jaw ache while his fingers dug against the rock, trying to stabilize the flow of chakra before his grip collapsed entirely.

The fall slowed.

Slowly.

The violent plunge softened into a grinding slide along the cliff face. His feet adjusted instinctively, shifting position as he redirected the flow of chakra through his legs. His palms dragged against the stone, leaving dark smears of blood as the friction continued to tear at his skin.

The roaring wind faded.

The blur of the ground below stopped rushing upward.

He slowed.

Slowed further.

And finally stopped.

Reiji hung there against the cliff face, chest rising and falling as he pressed his hands and feet against the vertical stone. His body trembled faintly with the aftershock of the fall, adrenaline and effort still burning through his muscles.

For several seconds he did nothing but breathe.

Cold night air burned in his lungs.

When he looked down he saw blood smeared across his palms where the skin had split open against the rock. His sandals were partially torn from the violent friction, dark scuff marks staining the stone beneath his feet.

And then—without meaning to—he smiled.



'So that old goat doesn't want me getting close to the tomato-head and the Senju brat…'



The smile widened slowly.





'Perfect.'



Now he wanted to do it even more.







A/N : Poor Reiji...

I swear this scene was supposed to be a normal conversation… but Mito decided to dismantle Reiji instead.

I'd love to hear your reactions to this chapter. Thanks for reading

 

[bunny0512]

I'm not sure if you're planning to give Reiji some pushback, but I'm waiting for him to face some real consequences. He's been rude to Kushina and Grandma, but everyone seems to let it slide because of his power. Strength shouldn't excuse his behaviour. I'd love to see some actual character growth where he realizes he can't treat people this way.

 

[TheSoulFrost]

I'm not sure if you're planning to give Reiji some pushback, but I'm waiting for him to face some real consequences. He's been rude to Kushina and Grandma, but everyone seems to let it slide because of his power. Strength shouldn't excuse his behaviour. I'd love to see some actual character growth where he realizes he can't treat people this way.

Click to shrink...

That's a fair point. Reiji definitely gets away with more than he should right now. He's still a kid who thinks being competent excuses a lot of things. Whether that keeps working for him in the long run… we'll see. Thanks for reading!

[/QUOTE]

 

[TheSoulFrost]

A week had passed since Reiji's conversation with Mito.

When he returned home that evening, his hands and feet had been torn open from the cliff descent. The cuts across his palms had split wide where the rock had scraped them raw, and the soles of his feet were no better—thin lines of blood drying in the dust that clung to his skin. By the time he reached the small house he shared with his father, the dull ache in his limbs had settled into something deeper, a steady pulse that flared whenever he shifted his weight.

He had simply told Homura it was the result of training.

His father had said nothing at first. Homura's sharp eyes had moved slowly over the injuries, taking in the torn skin, the grit lodged in the cuts, the faint tremor in Reiji's fingers from the strain of the fall. The silence had stretched for several seconds, then Homura had given a single short nod and reached for the medical supplies without asking another question.

They worked quietly at the table.

Reiji sat while his father cleaned the wounds ,the cloth stinging sharply whenever it pressed against exposed skin. The smell of antiseptic herbs filled the room as Homura wrapped his palms and soles in fresh bandages.

Neither of them spoke.

When the last knot was tied, Homura simply pushed the medical kit aside and returned to whatever work he had been doing earlier.

---

After that, life resumed as if nothing unusual had happened.

Reiji still attended the Academy each morning. He still trained every afternoon until his muscles burned and his breath came rough in his chest. And he still spent most of his time thinking about the same problem that had occupied his mind for days.

Friendship.

The word itself remained strangely distant to him.

He did not understand how other children formed bonds so easily. In the classroom and the training yard, conversations seemed to flow between them without effort.

Reiji watched it happen every day.

And he could not replicate it.

For him, none of that came naturally. If he wanted something like that—if he truly intended to follow the advice Mito had forced on him—then he would have to approach it the same way he approached every other obstacle in his life.

As a problem to solve.

Adapt and overcome.

That did not mean the solution would appear quickly.

Part of his determination came from simple stubbornness. Mito's words still lingered at the edge of his thoughts, and the idea of proving the old woman wrong held its own quiet appeal. But there was another reason as well—one he found more difficult to dismiss.

He wanted his father to be proud of him.

Even with that motivation, however, he remained stuck.

After the ambush incident in the forest, Kushina and Nawaki had returned almost immediately to their usual behavior and ignored him again. Reiji had expected that outcome. Helping someone once—or being helped once in return—was not enough to erase months of irritation or suspicion.

The opportunity he had been given inside the Senju house had slipped away as well. Nawaki's mother had unsettled him more than he expected, and the encounter with Mito had ended any chance he might have had to turn that moment into something useful.

Still, the experience had clarified something important.

Human relationships revolved around value.

People grew close to others because those people offered something they wanted. The exact reason depended entirely on the individual involved.

By that logic, Reiji's situation was simple.

He had nothing to offer anyone.

And no one had anything he wanted badly enough to pursue.

Earlier, he had tried imitation. He had attempted to observe the way other students spoke and behaved, then replicate those patterns himself. The results had been predictable. Even when he intended no harm, conversations often ended with someone irritated by something he said.

He still remembered the confused expressions. The sudden tension in the air.

It was exhausting.

So imitation was no longer an option.

He needed a different approach.

If he could not attract people with warmth the way Minato did—effortlessly, almost irritatingly—then he would have to attract them with something else.

---

Reiji sat quietly at his desk while the classroom gradually filled with students.

From the corner of his vision, he watched.

Kushina arrived as she always did, walking beside Nawaki. Her steps were quick and energetic, her long red hair shifting behind her with every movement. As soon as she entered the room, she drifted naturally toward the same group she always joined.

The pattern repeated itself.

Conversation began almost immediately—small complaints about assignments, bursts of laughter when someone said something amusing...

She was closest to Mikoto Uchiha.

The two spoke more often than anyone else in the room, their conversations flowing easily between serious discussion and amusement. After Mikoto came the others who orbited loosely around Kushina's attention: Aya Shirakawa, Tsume Inuzuka, and Kasumi Nara, who possessed what appeared to be a supernatural ability to remain half-asleep regardless of the situation.

Until recently, Reiji had not known most of their names.

He had known Mikoto's.

The rest had simply existed somewhere within her orbit before he started paying attention of them.

Another detail he had noticed involved Kushina's attitude toward training.

She was not weak. In fact, during physical exercises she was stronger than most of the class.

But she lacked the relentless focus Reiji associated with serious ambition.

For someone who loudly claimed she intended to become the first female Hokage, Kushina approached most tasks with surprising casualness. She preferred encouraging her friends or joking with them over pushing herself beyond what was required.

More importantly, she struggled during theoretical lessons.

Reiji had noticed something else as well.

After his conversation with Mito, Reiji had briefly wondered whether the old woman might warn her grandchildren about him. If that had happened, the curiosity would have vanished immediately.

But it hadn't.

Kushina and Nawaki still ignored him most of the time, yet they did not behave as if they feared him or suspected something darker.

So Mito had remained silent.

And according to Mito's own words, Kushina had once been interested in befriending him.

That made her an opportunity.

The only real obstacle was Reiji himself.

Still, obstacles existed to be worked around.

He simply needed to introduce something new into the relationship.

Something she wanted.

Something she needed.

---

The opportunity appeared during a theory exercise.

Reiji sat near the back as usual.

From there he could see most of the room without appearing to watch anyone directly. His posture remained relaxed, shoulders slightly forward over his paper, one hand resting loosely beside the page while the other moved steadily with his pencil.

Two rows ahead of him, Kushina sat hunched over her own sheet.

She had not written anything for several minutes.

Her pencil hovered above the page while her eyes scanned the same line again and again, as though staring hard enough might force the answer to appear.

Reiji lowered his gaze briefly to his own sheet.

The question Kushina had been staring at dealt with basic chakra theory—one of the subjects the Academy instructors insisted every student memorize before they were ever allowed to practice real techniques. The exercise asked them to explain the purpose of hand seals in ninjutsu and why molding chakra without proper control could cause a technique to fail.

It was the kind of question that required more explanation than memorization. Most of the class approached it by trying to repeat the instructor's words exactly as they had heard them during lectures.

Reiji had never understood why.

The logic behind it was simple.

It was basic theory.

But theory was exactly where Kushina struggled.

'Theory'.

'Of course.'

His eyes moved back toward Kushina for a moment.

Reiji tore a narrow strip from the edge of his paper.

The quiet rip of the page was barely audible beneath the scratching of pencils around the room. He wrote a few quick words on the scrap before folding it once between his fingers. Then, with a small flick of his wrist, he sent it sliding forward across the floor.

The paper skidded lightly over the wood and bumped against the leg of Kushina's desk.

She blinked in surprise when it appeared beside her hand.

For a moment she simply stared at it, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Then, with a quick glance toward the instructor at the front of the room, she bent slightly and retrieved it from the floor.

Reiji returned his attention to his paper as if nothing had happened.

Out of the corner of his vision he saw her unfold the note beneath the edge of her desk.

Having trouble?

Her head turned almost immediately.

Suspicion appeared on her face at once—sharp, immediate, and unmistakable.

Reiji did not look at her.

He kept his eyes on the front of the room, pencil moving slowly across his own paper as though he were entirely focused on his work.

A few seconds later something soft slid onto his desk.

He glanced down.

Another scrap of paper.

He unfolded it without hurry.

What do you want?

His lips twitched slightly at the corners.

Reiji wrote his reply carefully, keeping his movements slow enough not to attract attention.

Give me the numbers of the questions. I'll give you the answers.

He folded the paper again and flicked it forward with the same casual motion as before.

This time the response did not come immediately.

Even without looking directly at her, Reiji could almost feel the hesitation radiating from her desk. Kushina was thinking through the situation, weighing possibilities the way someone did when they suspected a trap.

For several seconds nothing happened.

Then another scrap slid across his desk.

Reiji unfolded it.

Three numbers had been written quickly across the paper.

He glanced at them once before reaching for his pencil again.

The answers themselves were simple enough, but he did not write them alone. Instead he added the method beside each one—short explanations broken into clear steps, simple enough to copy quickly but structured well enough that she could understand the reasoning behind them.

It took less than half a minute.

When he finished, he folded the note and flicked it forward once more.

Kushina caught it before it could fall to the floor.

Another brief pause followed.

Then her pencil began moving.

Reiji allowed his attention to return fully to his own work. The scratching of graphite against paper resumed its quiet rhythm as he continued answering the remaining questions.

A minute passed.

Then something landed lightly on his desk.

Another note.

He opened it.

You explain better than sensei.

Reiji stared at the sentence for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly before he picked up his pencil again.

That isn't difficult.

He folded the paper and slid it forward once more.

A second later he heard a small choking sound from two rows ahead of him—something suspiciously close to a laugh that someone was trying very hard not to make.

Reiji did not turn his head, but he felt the change all the same.

For now, that was sufficient.

Reiji kept his gaze directed toward the front of the room while quietly evaluating the result of the exchange.

His assumption had been correct.

If he could not draw people in the way Minato did—with effortless warmth and easy smiles—then he would simply offer something else.

Something practical.

Something useful.

And usefulness, unlike charm, was a language Reiji understood perfectly.

---

Later that afternoon, the class was brought outside for weapons practice.

Along the far fence, rows of wooden targets had been set into the ground. Each one carried a series of faded rings painted long ago, the wood around their centers darkened and scarred from countless strikes.

Kunai thudded into wood.

Students muttered under their breath as throws went wide. A few cursed quietly when their weapons bounced uselessly off the boards.

Every so often the instructor's voice cut sharply across the yard.

"Your stance is wrong."

"Stop throwing with your shoulder."

"Again."

Reiji stepped up to the throwing line when his turn came.

The metal of the kunai felt familiar in his hand—balanced, slightly worn from years of use. He rolled the handle once between his fingers, letting his weight settle evenly through his feet before beginning.

The motion was simple.

His rear foot pressed lightly into the ground, the push transferring through his legs and hips before flowing into his torso. His shoulder remained relaxed, his arm following the motion rather than forcing it. The final flick of his wrist guided the weapon.

The kunai left his hand cleanly.

It flew through the air before striking the center of the target with a dull, solid thunk.

Reiji drew another from the table and repeated the motion.

Again.

And again.

One after another the blades buried themselves near the center of the target, their handles vibrating faintly after impact.

When he finished the assigned number of throws, he stepped aside.

The instructor glanced briefly in his direction, eyes moving from Reiji to the target board. After a short pause, he simply gave a small nod and turned his attention toward the rest of the class.

Reiji didn't mind.

Standing idle meant he could observe.

He watched quietly as the next group stepped forward. Some students struggled immediately, their kunai drifting wide or striking the boards sideways. Others improved gradually after a few attempts.

Eventually his attention settled on Kushina.

She stood several places down the line with Mikoto beside her, the two of them sharing the same target board.

Kushina's throws were not terrible.

Better than most, actually.

Her arm was strong, and her instincts were good enough that the kunai rarely missed the board entirely. The problem lay elsewhere.

Reiji watched the motion of her arm carefully.

Her wrist remained too stiff during release. Her shoulder carried too much tension. Instead of allowing the movement to travel naturally through her body—from her feet through her hips and into her arm—she forced the throw with brute strength.

It was inefficient.

The result appeared exactly as expected.

One kunai drifted left, embedding itself just outside the painted circle.

The next flew slightly high.

Another dropped low, the blade striking the board with a dull sideways crack.

By the fourth attempt her frustration was obvious. Her shoulders tightened, and the next throw came harder than the previous ones.

Reiji watched one more throw before stepping forward.

He had barely taken two steps when Mikoto moved.

The motion was small but deliberate—a single shift of her stance that placed her directly between him and Kushina.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you want now?" she asked.

Reiji stopped a short distance away.

"Mind your own business."

Mikoto's gaze hardened.

"You should do the same," she replied evenly. "Why are you coming over here?"

Behind her, Kushina glanced between them.

Reiji kept his eyes on Mikoto.

"Because watching the same mistake five times in a row is irritating," he said. "I'm helping her."

Mikoto let out a quiet breath that carried no amusement whatsoever.

"How generous of you," she said dryly. "But I can help her."

"I can do it better than you," Reiji replied flatly.

Mikoto rolled her eyes.

"Yes, genius. Thank you for telling me. But why would you?"

Reiji felt the conversation beginning to rot.

"Because I know how."

Mikoto crossed her arms, her expression sharpening slightly.

"Funny," she said. "Arata disappears for days, and suddenly you're trying to help people."

There it was.

Reiji went still.

Arata had not returned to the Academy since the day of their confrontation in the forest. No explanation had been given to the class. The absence had become a quiet topic of speculation among the students.

More than once Reiji had noticed someone glance in his direction when the subject came up.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked calmly.

Mikoto met his gaze without hesitation.

"I mean it's strange."

"No," Reiji said quietly. "Say what you mean."

For a moment neither of them moved.

Around them the yard continued as before—kunai striking wood, students talking, the instructor correcting someone's grip—but the sounds felt strangely distant, as though the air between them had thickened.

Mikoto lifted her chin slightly.

"You humiliated him," she said. "We all saw how badly it affected him. And now he's gone."

Reiji felt the familiar flare of anger rise slowly in his chest.

Not because she accused him.

He was used to that.

But because of how quickly people always seemed ready to assume the worst when it came to him.

"That's a convenient accusation," he said calmly. "Do you have proof, or is that simply the conclusion you prefer?"

Before Mikoto could answer, Kushina stepped forward.

"Stop it, Mikoto. Reiji has nothing to do with that."

Mikoto turned toward her in surprise.

"Huh? And how do you know?"

Kushina opened her mouth.

Then hesitated.

Before the silence could deepen, another voice joined the conversation.

"It's none of your business, Mikoto."

Nawaki approached with his hands shoved casually into his pockets, his expression relaxed in a way that didn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders.

"If you're that curious," he continued, "why don't you ask your clan? He's one of yours."

Mikoto frowned.

"I tried," she said. "Every time I ask they just tell me not to worry and that he'll be back soon."

Nawaki shrugged.

"Then there you go."

"That tells me nothing."

"It tells you enough," Nawaki replied. "We can't say why he's absent because it's not our place. When the time comes, you'll know."

Mikoto muttered something under her breath, clearly dissatisfied, but after a moment she stepped aside.

The space between Reiji and Kushina finally cleared.

Reiji exhaled softly.

"So," he said, looking at Kushina, "can I show you now?"

Kushina blinked.

"It's genuinely painful to watch."

For a moment she simply stared at him.

Then, despite herself, she snorted.

Kushina rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she said. "Show me."

Mikoto made an outraged noise beside her.

Reiji stepped forward beside her without responding. The table of practice weapons stood between them , its surface scattered with dull-edged kunai that had already seen years of student abuse. He picked one up, turning it slowly between his fingers.

"You're forcing it," he said calmly.

Kushina blinked at him. "What?"

"You're trying to throw too hard."

Her frown deepened instantly, red brows pulling together. "I'm not—"

"You are."

The answer came flat and immediate. She looked personally offended by it.

Reiji didn't bother reacting to that. Instead, his gaze dropped briefly to her stance.

"Your feet first," he said, gesturing toward the ground with the kunai in his hand. "They're wrong."

And the lesson began.

"My feet are fine."

"They aren't."

"They are."

Reiji turned his head slowly and looked at her, his expression perfectly blank. "Do you want help or not?"

That stopped her. Not entirely—her mouth still twitched with the urge to argue—but the words themselves stalled in her throat.

With visible reluctance, Kushina shifted her footing where he had indicated. Reiji crouched slightly beside her,, and tapped the front of her sandal twice with two fingers.

"There," he said. "Wider."

She moved it another inch.

"More."

Her shoulders tensed as she shifted again. Under her breath she muttered something that sounded distinctly unflattering.

"Good," Reiji said anyway, straightening. "Now stop locking your shoulder."

Kushina lifted the kunai again. From where he stood, Reiji could see the tension gathering through the line of her arm before the throw had even begun. She was already fighting the motion.

"You're doing it again."

"I haven't even thrown it yet."

"You were about to."

She shot him a glare, but the tightness in her shoulder loosened anyway, if only slightly. Reiji lifted his own kunai in response.

"Watch."

The kunai left his hand cleanly before burying itself in the inner ring of the target with a sharp, satisfying thunk.

Reiji lowered his arm.

Kushina's gaze moved from the vibrating handle of the kunai to his face.

"Again," he said. "But don't fight the throw this time."

She inhaled slowly, clearly resisting the urge to say something argumentative. Then she set her feet the way he had shown her, her sandals shifting across the dirt until her stance was closer to what he had demonstrated.

Her arm came up.

Reiji watched the line of her movement carefully. The stiffness was still there, though less severe now that she was paying attention to it.

She threw.

The difference was immediate.

The kunai didn't fly straight, and the rotation wobbled slightly, but it struck the wooden board instead of slipping past it entirely. The dull impact echoed against the fence, the blade biting shallowly into the grain.

Kushina stared at the target.

Reiji watched her posture instead.

Still not good.

But better.

"Again," he said.

She threw a second time.

"Your release is late," Reiji said, folding his arms loosely. "Let go earlier."

Kushina clicked her tongue. "You say that like it's simple."

"It is simple for me," he replied. "That doesn't mean it's easy for you."

For some reason that made Nawaki bark out a laugh a few steps away.

Reiji glanced briefly in that direction. Nawaki had been half-watching the entire time, leaning against the weapon table with a grin he clearly wasn't trying to hide. Kushina turned her head just enough to glare at him.

Then she grabbed another kunai.

This time she adjusted before throwing.

The kunai spun cleanly.

It struck within the painted circle with a solid crack.

Kushina froze.

For a moment she simply stared at the weapon embedded in the board as if it had appeared there on its own.

Then she turned to Reiji so quickly that her long red hair swung with the motion, strands flashing briefly in the afternoon light.

"You could've said that earlier."

He met her glare without difficulty. "You never asked."

Behind them Nawaki laughed again, louder this time, and even Mikoto—standing a short distance away with her own kunai in hand—looked suspiciously close to smiling.

Kushina made a face at Reiji before she turned back toward the target.

And threw again.

And again.

Her attention had narrowed completely to the target ahead and the motion of her own arm.

Reiji stepped back half a pace, watching.

She learned quickly once something clicked in her head. That much was obvious. Her first instinct had been brute force—throw harder, push the weapon toward the target—but once she understood where the mistake was, she adjusted without much hesitation. Not elegantly, not yet, but honestly. Each throw improved slightly.

The target stopped punishing her for every attempt.

'Maybe she can be useful after all.'

After a while the instructor called for the class to rotate stations. The moment dissolved almost immediately. Students stepped away from the throwing line, collecting their weapons, talking over one another as they compared results or complained about missed throws.

Maybe, to everyone else, nothing important had happened.

But as Reiji turned to leave, Kushina's voice called after him.

"Hey."

He stopped and glanced back.

"Thanks."

Reiji studied her for a second.

The irritation still clinging to her expression. The curiosity in her eyes. The fact that, for once, neither came with mockery or open hostility.

He gave a small nod.

Then he turned and walked away.

It was not friendship.

Not yet.

But it was something.

And for now, something was enough.

 

[TheSoulFrost]

Morning had already settled over Konoha. Birds called from the trees beyond the compound walls, their songs drifting lazily through the quiet air. Sunlight spilled through the open window despite the early hour, washing the wooden floor in pale gold and catching faint motes of dust that drifted slowly in the light.

Reiji and his father sat across from each other at the breakfast table.

Rice. Grilled fish. Miso soup.

The meal was simple, quiet, and routine.

His father ate the way he always did—calmly, silently, without unnecessary movement. Chopsticks lifted. Food disappeared. The bowl lowered again. Everything measured, precise, and unhurried.

Reiji, however, seemed to be in a particularly good mood.

He chewed loudly.

Much louder than necessary.

"It's very good, Father," he said between bites, his voice bright with exaggerated appreciation. "There's something different about it today, no?"

"Not really," his father replied calmly without looking up.

"Really?" Reiji tilted his head thoughtfully, as if considering a complicated mystery. "Strange. It almost tastes… elevated somehow."

His father continued eating.

Reiji hummed thoughtfully, nodding as though confirming his own theory.

"Yes, definitely elevated," he continued. "The flavor really stands out from this angle."

"Is that so?" his father said evenly. "I am honored."

"Don't be so humble," Reiji replied cheerfully. "If we didn't live in a village of shinobi, I'm sure you would have become a cook."

His father paused.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his chopsticks onto the table.

A small drop of miso soup slid from the tip and landed softly against the wood.

Only then did his father lift his eyes.

Reiji was sitting on the ceiling.

Upside down.

His legs were crossed comfortably against the wooden beams, chakra holding him there as securely as if gravity had simply forgotten him. His bowl was tilted with careful precision so the food wouldn't spill as he continued eating as though nothing about the situation was unusual.

His father studied him for several quiet seconds.

Then he asked calmly,

"So… will you continue doing that much longer?"

Reiji grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

"I just thought you should know," he said proudly, "that I've mastered tree walking."

His father looked at him for a long moment.

Then he calmly picked up his chopsticks again and finished the last bite of his meal.

"Have you."

Reiji waited.

His father stood, lifting his bowl and placing it neatly beside the others.

"I will believe you," he said.

Reiji's grin widened immediately.

"Finally."

His father picked up his cane and walked toward the sliding door that opened onto the garden.

"Under one condition."

Reiji dropped lightly from the ceiling and landed on the floor with a soft thud, his sandals touching the wood with barely a sound.

"What condition?"

His father slid the door open.

Cool morning air drifted inside, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine. Outside, the garden lay quiet and still. The pond reflected the early sunlight like polished glass.

"Walk with me."

Reiji frowned slightly but followed.

They stepped onto the stone path that wound through the garden. His father moved slowly, the cane tapping softly against the stones as they passed the trimmed bushes and the quiet curve of the pond.

They stopped at the water's edge.

His father tapped the surface of the pond with the end of his cane.

Ripples spread outward across the still water.

"Well," his father said calmly, "if you can walk on walls…"

He glanced sideways at Reiji.

"…it would make sense that you can walk on water as well."

Reiji stared at the pond.

Then at his father.

"Oh."

A faint smile appeared on his father's face.

"Now," he said.

"Show me your chakra control."

Reiji stood still for a moment before finally stepping forward.

He placed one foot cautiously onto the pond.

The surface bent beneath his weight.

Water wasn't like bark or stone. It didn't hold shape. It shifted and flowed, pushing outward in ripples with every movement. His chakra spread from the sole of his foot instinctively, searching for something stable to grip.

Too little.

His foot sank slightly.

Reiji closed his eyes.

He focused on the flow of chakra through his body—and on the movement beneath him.

The water wasn't resisting him.

It was moving.

Constantly shifting, adjusting to every disturbance.

His chakra had to move with it.

Slowly, carefully, he adjusted the flow, matching the subtle rhythm of the water beneath his foot.

The sinking stopped.

His foot stabilized.

Reiji opened his eyes.

Then he took another step.

And another.

A few moments later he was walking calmly across the pond's surface as though it were solid stone. The water rippled gently beneath his sandals but never broke. He crossed the pond and stepped onto the opposite bank where his father waited.

"Easy," Reiji said.

One of his father's eyebrows lifted slightly.

Then the cane moved.

Tap.

"Ow—"

Splash.

Cold water swallowed him instantly.

Reiji surfaced a moment later, sputtering and coughing as water dripped down his hair and soaked into his clothes.

"Well," his father said calmly from the bank, "your control is acceptable for now."

He paused before adding,

"We will have to work on it a great deal more if you want to do it without thinking."

Reiji wiped water from his face and glared up at him.

"Can you not just let me have my moment?" he muttered. "I know you're impressed."

He reached for the stone edge of the pond.

His fingers touched the rock.

Tap.

The cane struck his knuckles.

"Hey—!"

Splash.

Reiji went under again.

He resurfaced moments later with a furious gasp.

This time he didn't reach for the stones.

Instead his palms slapped flat against the water.

For a brief instant they sank.

Then his chakra surged.

The water bent under his hands but did not break. Ripples spread outward as his chakra pressed down through his palms and distributed across the surface.

Reiji shoved downward.

His body rose smoothly out of the pond, water streaming from his clothes as he pushed himself upright. Chakra flowed through his knee, then his feet, stabilizing him once more on the surface of the pond.

He stood there dripping, glaring at his father.

His father observed him quietly.

"Hm."

Reiji crossed his arms.

"You did that on purpose."

His father rested his hand on his cane.

"Yes."

Reiji narrowed his eyes.

"You're enjoying this."

"Moderately."

---

The walk to the Academy was quiet.

The morning streets of Konoha were already busy—shopkeepers opening shutters, shinobi crossing rooftops, civilians beginning the slow rhythm of the day—but the space around Reiji remained strangely empty. Children walking in groups shifted aside when they noticed him coming. A pair of boys who had been laughing together suddenly lowered their voices as he passed. Conversations thinned, then resumed behind him in cautious murmurs.

Reiji noticed, of course. It was impossible not to. The slight hesitation when someone recognized him, the way people created just a little more distance than necessary. But he had long since stopped reacting to it. The feeling had become familiar—like walking through a patch of cold shade that never quite left him.

He ignored it and continued toward the Academy.

By the time he entered the classroom, it was already half full. Voices bounced softly around the wooden room as small groups of students talked before the instructor arrived. Chairs scraped against the floor, someone laughed too loudly near the back, and the faint smell of ink and paper hung in the air.

Reiji stepped inside and let his gaze sweep across the room.

Near the windows, he noticed a familiar flash of red hair.

Kushina sat with her usual group, leaning slightly over her desk while speaking animatedly with the others. Mikoto sat beside her, listening with quiet attention while the rest of the girls contributed occasional comments. The sunlight from the window lit the edge of Kushina's hair, making it stand out like a small flame among the darker heads around her.

Reiji walked past their group.

Then, without breaking stride, he said casually,

"Hey, Tomato Head."

Kushina spun around instantly.

Her fist shot forward with absolutely no hesitation.

Reiji caught it easily.

His hand closed around her wrist before the punch had fully extended, stopping it a few inches from his face. The movement was almost effortless, like catching a thrown ball.

"Woah," he said mildly. "What was that for?"

Kushina's face was already turning red.

"Stop calling me that!"

Reiji tilted his head slightly as he studied her, his expression thoughtful in the way of someone observing an interesting experiment.

"I'll stop," he said, "when you stop going red like that every time I say it. It's hilarious."

"You—!"

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"Careful," he added calmly. "The Boiling Tomato is about to explode again."

Kushina's eye twitched.

Her free hand clenched into a fist.

Before she could launch herself at him again, Mikoto sighed loudly beside her.

"Will you stop, Reiji?" she said, sounding tired already. "I really don't know why Kushina even bothers speaking to you. It's mean."

Reiji looked at her, genuinely confused.

"What? Why is it mean? It's true."

Mikoto rolled her eyes and turned back toward Kushina.

"You can't react every time he says something," she explained patiently. "That's why he keeps doing it. He's a bully. He's looking for a reaction."

Kushina's fists tightened again.

For a moment it looked like she might explode anyway.

Then she huffed loudly, turned her head away with visible effort, and refused to look at Reiji any longer.

Reiji shrugged and released her wrist.

Then he walked to his seat.

That had become their new dynamic.

Reiji genuinely wanted to get closer to Kushina. The intention itself was real enough. But being himself meant he couldn't resist provoking her whenever the opportunity appeared. Once he realized how easily she reacted—how quickly irritation flared across her face—the temptation had become impossible to ignore.

It was simply too amusing.

Still, things were better than before.

After their first real interaction—the day he had helped her during class—Reiji occasionally assisted her when the opportunity appeared. Sometimes it was with small things during lessons. Sometimes it was advice during training. None of it dramatic. Just enough that the distance between them slowly softened.

One afternoon during sparring practice, he ended up paired with one of her friends, Shirakawa Aya.

Normally Reiji would have ended the match quickly. Most of the students simply couldn't keep up with him, and he had little patience for dragging things out. But that day he held back deliberately.

Instead of overwhelming her, he corrected her stance mid-exchange, shifting her footing with a tap of his own and pointing out the way her weight was leaning too far forward. When the exercise ended, he even gave her a short piece of advice about her guard.

The girl had looked genuinely surprised.

She hadn't known what to say.

In the end she simply nodded and muttered a quiet "thanks" before walking away.

Reiji barely reacted.

But when he glanced toward Kushina's group afterward, he noticed she had been watching the exchange.

For a brief moment Kushina gave him a small smile.

It was quick, almost teasing, like she was acknowledging something she hadn't expected from him.

Beside her, Mikoto had been watching as well.

Her gaze lingered longer than the others. Thoughtful. Measuring.

As if she were trying to understand something that didn't quite fit with the picture she had formed of him.

Even without changing his personality—or becoming any more sociable than before—Kushina and her group slowly became more tolerant of his presence. The wariness that had once surrounded him had faded somewhat.

Which suited Reiji just fine.

Although Mikoto still watched him with occasional suspicious glances.

And even if things had improved slightly with Kushina, it wasn't quite the same with Nawaki.

The Senju boy was not the type to care about rumors or reputation. Social tension meant very little to him. What interested Nawaki was something much simpler.

Reiji was stronger than him.

That alone was enough for Nawaki to see him as a rival.

The few times Reiji tried to help him the way he sometimes did with Kushina, Nawaki refused immediately. His pride stiffened his posture every time the offer appeared.

A Senju didn't need help.

Which left them in an odd position.

Not hostile.

But not friendly either.

Outside of training they barely spoke.

Nawaki spent most of his time with Enji Sarutobi.

Reiji was willing to do many things to make his father proud.

But befriending Enji was not one of them.

And he preferred not to think too deeply about why.



---





The rest of the day passed without anything particularly remarkable.

Reiji followed the lessons with the same steady attention he usually gave them, though nothing demanded much effort. The hours passed quietly until the instructor finally dismissed them for the day.

By the time the students began gathering their things, the sunlight outside had softened toward evening. The long shadows of the buildings stretched across the courtyard beyond the windows.

Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags were gathered. Conversations resumed the moment the teacher left the room.

Reiji stood and joined the slow flow of students moving toward the corridor.

The Academy hallway filled quickly as several classes emptied at once. Groups formed naturally—friends leaving together, voices rising as the structure of the school day loosened.

Reiji walked with the others until he noticed something ahead.

The movement in the corridor had slowed.

A loose half-circle of students had formed, blocking the path.

Reiji stopped a few steps away.

At the center of the gathering stood Arata.

Murmurs rippled through the hallway as more students noticed him.

Arata hadn't been seen at school for days.

Mikoto stepped forward immediately, pushing through the edge of the small crowd.

"Arata?" she said. "Are you okay? Where were you?"

Arata rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Huh—yeah, Mikoto. Sorry." He shifted slightly, avoiding several curious stares. "I was… grounded."

"Grounded?" Mikoto repeated, her brows drawing together. "Why?"

Arata hesitated.

"Later, Mikoto. Sorry."

Then he stepped past her.

The students instinctively parted as he moved forward.

He stopped directly in front of Reiji.

For a moment he simply looked at him.

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

Then suddenly Arata bowed.

Deeply.

"Sorry!"

The corridor fell silent.

Even the students who had been whispering stopped talking.

Mikoto blinked in surprise.

Reiji blinked as well.

"Sorry for what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Arata did not straighten.

"For ambushing you," he said, his voice tight with embarrassment. "And for being a coward in the forest. I am ashamed of myself… and of shaming my clan."

Murmurs spread quietly through the watching students.

Reiji stared down at the bowed boy.

This was new.

Insults he understood. Threats, fights, challenges—those things were simple. They followed rules he knew how to answer.

But this?

Someone apologizing.

He had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

Part of him wanted to refuse immediately. The memory of the ambush in the forest was still fresh, and the apology did not erase the fact that Arata had tried to stab him.

But refusing would be… inconvenient.

Reiji's eyes shifted briefly to the surrounding students.

They were all watching.

Listening.

This was not a private conversation anymore.

He could already imagine how it would look if he rejected the apology—arrogant, vindictive, impossible to deal with. The exact kind of behavior that would reinforce the rumors people already whispered about him.

And he had just started making progress.

Kushina's group had begun tolerating him. Some of the students had stopped avoiding him quite so openly. Even small improvements mattered.

Rejecting Arata here would undo that.

It would isolate him again.

And isolation was the opposite of what he needed.

If he wanted allies… if he wanted connections… if he wanted to make his father proud of him for once…

Then he had to play this correctly.

Reiji cleared his throat.

"Well… it's good that you know that," he said slowly.

"I suppose… I forgive you?"

The last part came out sounding slightly uncertain, as though he was still deciding whether the words made sense.

Arata bowed even deeper.

"Thank you."

"That is kind of you."

The new voice came from behind Arata.

Reiji turned his head.

A teenager stepped forward through the gathered students. He was clearly older than the Academy children around him—taller, more composed. Dark hair framed a sharp, controlled expression, and a shinobi protector rested across his forehead.

A genin.

The Uchiha crest was stitched clearly across the back of his shirt.

"You are…?" Reiji asked.

"Fugaku Uchiha," the boy replied calmly.

His hand settled lightly on Arata's shoulder.

"This idiot's older brother."

Arata muttered something under his breath.

Reiji gestured toward him.

"So this was your idea?"

Fugaku shook his head.

"Arata confessed when he returned home wounded with his friends," he said. "Whatever differences you had, it doesn't excuse his conduct. He was grounded and had time to reflect."

Fugaku inclined his head slightly.

"I also apologize. It seems my parents and I did not raise him properly."

Reiji tilted his head.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asked. "You're his brother, not his parents."

Fugaku didn't seem offended.

"Being the older brother means acting like a parent sometimes," he replied calmly. "We are supposed to guide the younger ones. If he goes down the wrong path, then I have failed to correct him."

Reiji studied him silently for a moment.

Fugaku continued.

"Also… though it may not be pleasant to say, thanks to you my brother gained something valuable."

Reiji's gaze drifted toward Arata.

The memory of the forest returned clearly—the flash of red eyes in the dim light between the trees.

He smirked faintly.

"Well, that surprised me too," he admitted. "Good for him, I guess."

He glanced back at Fugaku.

"Is it rare to awaken it that young?"

"Yes," Fugaku answered.

Before he could elaborate further, Arata straightened and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"I awakened it earlier than my brother," he said with a small chuckle. "So… you could say it's impressive."

Fugaku gave his brother a brief look but didn't comment.

"Our father wished to apologize as well," he continued, turning back to Reiji. "And to thank you for what happened. Our clan considers it a debt. If there is anything we can do for you, tell us."

Reiji considered the offer for a moment.

Then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Well," he said, "why not? I'd like to visit the Uchiha compound sometime."

He looked at Arata.

"And maybe have a spar with him."

Then his gaze shifted back to Fugaku.

"Or with you. I'm curious about those famous eyes of yours."

Fugaku raised one eyebrow.

Beside him, Arata groaned.

"Told you," he muttered. "He's a fighting lunatic."

Fugaku ignored him.

"Very well," he said calmly. "Come to the entrance of the Uchiha compound on Saturday morning. We will welcome you."

"Perfect," Reiji replied with a smile.

Fugaku nodded once before turning away. Arata followed him, glancing back briefly before disappearing into the corridor.

The gathered students slowly dispersed once Fugaku and Arata left. Conversations resumed, quieter than before, the excitement of the scene still lingering in the corridor.

Reiji turned toward Mikoto.

"See?" he said with a smirk. "I'm innocent. You can apologize now."

Mikoto's face reddened instantly.

"That doesn't count!" she snapped. "You lied to me! You said you weren't the reason Arata was missing from class!"

"Maybe," Reiji replied calmly. "But you accused me of doing something terrible to him. As you just saw, I'm the victim here."

Mikoto opened her mouth.

Then closed it again.

Without another word she turned sharply and walked away.

Reiji watched her go.

"Ah," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"What a sore loser."

But even as he said it, he remembered the way she had looked at him just before leaving.

Not convinced.

Not fooled either.

Just… thinking.

Reiji tilted his head slightly.

Interesting.

---

Reiji returned home as the evening settled quietly over the compound.

The sun had already dipped low behind the rooftops of Konoha, leaving long shadows stretching across the garden stones. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and cooling wood, and the surface of the pond reflected the fading sky like a dull mirror of gold and gray.

His father was already outside.

Homura stood near the wooden veranda with his cane resting lightly against the ground. He seemed to be watching the garden, though whether his attention was on the water, the trees, or something else entirely was difficult to tell.

Reiji stepped onto the stone path.

"I'm back."

His father acknowledged the words with a single nod.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was simply the way things were between them.

Reiji shifted his weight slightly before speaking again.

"I will be visiting the Uchiha compound this weekend."

His father turned his head just enough to look at him.

"Why?"

"They invited me."

A short pause followed.

Reiji scratched the back of his head.

"Because I'm nice."

His father looked at him.

The silence that followed carried the quiet weight of absolute disbelief.

Reiji cleared his throat.

"Anyway," he continued quickly, "I'm going to spar with them."

His eyes brightened slightly as he said it.

"They have the Sharingan. It should be interesting."

The memory returned immediately.

The forest.

The sudden movement behind him. The flash of red eyes appearing in the darkness. The speed of Arata's attack the moment those eyes had awakened.

Reiji smirked faintly.

He wanted to see it again.

This time properly.

"Everyone says those eyes are incredible," he added. "I want to see if the rumors are true."

His father studied him for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"That will be a useful experience," he said calmly. "Whether you win or lose."

Reiji frowned slightly.

His father continued.

"You will better understand the Uchiha. And if you one day serve beside one of them as a teammate, that knowledge will matter."

Reiji shrugged.

"Sure."

His father reached into the sleeve of his robe.

When his hand emerged again, he was holding a small square of paper.

Reiji blinked.

"What's that?"

"Chakra paper."

Reiji straightened immediately.

"Wait—does that mean I'm going to learn a jutsu?"

His father inclined his head slightly.

"Yes."

Reiji's grin spread quickly across his face.

"But first," his father continued, "we need to confirm something."

Reiji tilted his head.

"I have a suspicion," Homura said calmly. "If it is correct, things may become… complicated."

Reiji's eyes lit up in sudden understanding.

"Do you mean—"

"Yes," his father replied.

"We will finally see."

He extended the small sheet of paper toward him.

"Affinities are, for the most part, hereditary. You may have the same nature as I do."

"Earth."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"Or the same as your mother."

Reiji flinched slightly at the mention.

"Or," his father finished, "a combination of both."

Reiji took a slow breath.

The paper waited between them.

Then he nodded.

"What do I have to do?"

"Take the paper," his father said, "and pour your chakra into it."

Reiji accepted the small square of paper between his fingers.

It felt almost weightless. Thin. Ordinary. Just a fragile sheet of fiber that looked like it would crumble if he pressed too hard. Yet he could feel faint traces of chakra inside it already, like a prepared surface waiting to react.

His father watched him quietly from the veranda, is hand resting on the handle of his cane.

Reiji focused.

He drew chakra from the center of his body, letting it flow down his arm and into his fingertips. The sensation was familiar now—like guiding a stream through narrow channels, careful not to let it spill or surge too violently. Chakra control was still something he had to think about, but it no longer felt unstable.

Slowly, he released the energy into the paper.

The reaction was immediate.

A thin tearing sound split the quiet of the garden.

The paper ripped cleanly down the middle, the tear running like a seam through the fibers. At the same time, moisture began spreading across the surface, darkening the sheet in irregular patches as though it had been dipped into water.

Reiji blinked.

He lifted the paper slightly, watching the dampness crawl outward through the fibers.

"Wind… and water?" he said slowly.

That part he understood. Chakra papers were supposed to react like this. Each nature produced a different effect. Wind cut. Water soaked. If both appeared, it meant he possessed both affinities.

But the reaction did not stop.

The damp paper stiffened between his fingers.

At first he thought it was simply drying in the cool morning air, but then the surface changed again. A faint white shimmer crept across the fibers, spreading slowly from the point where his chakra entered the sheet.

The air around his hand grew colder.

Reiji felt it immediately—the subtle shift in temperature brushing against the skin of his fingers, the quiet bite of cold forming around the paper.

Frost.

A thin layer of white crystallized across the damp fibers. The moisture froze where it lay, delicate patterns branching outward like tiny veins of ice spreading through the sheet.

Reiji stared at it.

The paper trembled slightly between his fingers as the frost continued creeping outward.

For a moment he forgot to breathe.

The garden had fallen completely silent. Even the faint sounds from the street beyond the walls seemed distant now, swallowed by the stillness around them.

His father had not moved.

Homura watched the frost slowly spreading across the paper, his expression calm but very still. His gaze lingered on the thin white layer forming over the damp surface, as though confirming something he had suspected but hoped not to see.

A long silence followed.

Reiji's thoughts raced.

Wind.

Water.

And then—

Ice.

His fingers tightened slightly around the paper.

He already knew what that meant.

Across from him, his father finally exhaled quietly.

"So that's how it is."

The words were calm, but something heavier sat beneath them.

Homura's eyes shifted from the frozen paper to Reiji's face. For a brief moment, his expression softened with something that almost resembled resignation.

"It seems," he said slowly, "you take after your mother more than I hoped."

The frost continued to spread across the paper in Reiji's hand.

 

[TheSoulFrost]

---


Reiji stared at the frost creeping slowly across the paper.

The thin sheet trembled slightly between his fingers as pale crystals spread through the damp fibers, freezing the moisture into delicate white veins. The air around his hand had grown colder without him noticing when it began.

A small knot formed in his stomach.

"Is it bad?" he asked, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

His father did not answer immediately.

Homura remained perfectly still beside him, the head of his cane resting lightly against the wooden floor of the veranda. His eyes lingered on the frost spreading across the paper as though confirming something he had suspected for some time.

"Frankly…" Homura said at last, exhaling quietly, "I don't know."

He lifted his gaze toward Reiji.

"There was always a possibility you inherited her kekkei genkai," he continued. "But I have no idea how to teach you to use it. There has never been a Hyōton user in Konoha. No teachers. No records. Not even scrolls describing techniques."

Reiji frowned.

The paper crackled softly in his hand as the frost finished spreading across it.

"So what do I do now?"

Homura fell silent again.

For a few seconds he seemed to be thinking, his fingers resting lightly on the head of his cane while his eyes drifted toward the quiet surface of the pond.

"Well," he said eventually, "even if you possess a kekkei genkai, at its root it is still a combination of wind and water."

His gaze returned to Reiji.

"So that is where you will begin. You will learn wind and water techniques like any other shinobi."

Reiji's shoulders sagged slightly.

"That feels like a waste," he muttered. "Shouldn't I try to learn Hyōton jutsu instead? It's in my blood. It shouldn't be that hard."

Homura raised an eyebrow.

"Who do you think you are?" he asked dryly. "The Second Hokage?"

Reiji blinked.

"Go ahead then," Homura continued calmly. "Invent new jutsu. I'm sure it will be easy."

Reiji opened his mouth, then hesitated.

His father tapped his cane lightly against the floor.

"If inventing techniques were that simple, every shinobi would be doing it," he said. "Entire clans spend generations refining their abilities."

He paused briefly.

"The Yuki clan did not devote centuries to mastering their kekkei genkai and creating techniques for it just so you could rediscover everything in an afternoon."

Reiji scratched the back of his head, his ears warming slightly.

"Well… when you say it like that, it sounds kind of dumb."

Homura nodded once.

"For now, focus on what you can actually learn. Konoha possesses one of the largest libraries of jutsu in the world. You would be foolish not to take advantage of that."

He looked at Reiji again.

"So. Which will you start with? Water or wind?"

Reiji frowned thoughtfully.

"Which one is more useful?"

"You want my advice?"

Reiji nodded.

Homura considered the question briefly.

"There is no element that is strictly superior to another," he said. "But if you are asking which you should begin with… I would suggest wind."

"Why?" Reiji asked. "Is water worse?"

Homura shook his head.

"Not at all. But wind chakra requires more delicate control. Learning it first will sharpen your chakra manipulation."

He paused before continuing.

"It is also extremely versatile in combat."

His eyes shifted briefly toward the trees beyond the garden.

"Water techniques can be powerful and easier to grasp initially. But mastering them requires significant effort. And large-scale techniques often depend on having water nearby."

Reiji nodded slowly.

"So what do I do?" he asked. "Are you going to teach me a wind jutsu?"

Homura shook his head.

"Using an elemental technique is different from the academy jutsu you already know."

He tapped the cane once against the floor.

"It requires something else first."

"What?"

"Nature transformation."

Reiji frowned.

"Nature transformation?"

"Yes."

Homura leaned down slightly and picked a leaf from the ground near the veranda. He held it flat in his palm.

"Before you can perform an elemental technique, your chakra must first take on the nature of that element."

Reiji stared at the leaf skeptically.

"Huh… what's the difference between normal chakra and wind chakra?"

Homura considered the question carefully.

"It is difficult to explain clearly," he said. "The shape of the chakra… and the way it flows."

"The shape and flow…" Reiji repeated quietly.

Homura's fingers twitched.

The leaf in his hand split cleanly in two.

Reiji's eyes widened slightly.

"So wind chakra cuts things?"

Homura nodded.

"You said shape and flow," Reiji murmured, already thinking. "So I need to shape my chakra into something thin and sharp."

He held his hand out thoughtfully.

"Like a blade."

He paused.

"Or maybe a thread."

A faint smile touched Homura's face.

"Exactly."

He handed the leaf to Reiji.

"As with your earlier training, there is no simple explanation. You must experiment. When you can cut a leaf using nothing but your chakra, you will have taken your first step."



Reiji nodded immediately and began trying.

He guided chakra into his palm, letting the familiar warmth gather beneath the skin. Slowly he tried to shape it, stretching it thinner and thinner, imagining the chakra sharpening into something narrow and precise.

A blade.

Or a thread.

The leaf rested in his hand.

Nothing happened.

Reiji frowned slightly and adjusted the flow of chakra, concentrating harder. He imagined the chakra twisting tighter, compressing into a sharper form.

Still nothing.

The leaf remained perfectly intact.

He tried again.

And again.

Homura placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"It should not take too long."



---



The pile beside him slowly grew larger as new leaves replaced the ones he had crushed, bent, or torn by accident.

But none of them had been cut.

Reiji stared at the latest leaf resting in his palm.

'Shape and flow…'

The words repeated in his mind.

Blade.

Wind.

His fingers tightened slightly.

If other shinobi could do it, then there was no reason he couldn't.

He pushed chakra into his palm again.

The leaf didn't split.

But Reiji tried again anyway.

Every afternoon he returned to the same spot in the yard behind their house. The training had quickly become routine: gather a handful of leaves, sit beneath the tree, and push chakra into his palm again and again.

At first he approached it with curiosity.

Wind chakra. Shape and flow.

That had been his father's explanation. Vague, but not useless. Reiji understood the idea well enough. If wind chakra cut things, then the chakra itself had to become thin. Focused. Sharp.



He guided chakra into his palm and stretched it outward, thinning it again and again. He imagined the energy narrowing to an edge so sharp it could slice through air itself.

The leaf trembled.

But nothing happened.

Not even a scratch.

The first day he shrugged it off.

Learning new things always took time. Chakra manipulation had never been effortless for him. The academy exercises alone had taken weeks before they became second nature.

The second day he tried harder.

He adjusted the flow of chakra, experimenting with different shapes, different levels of pressure. Sometimes he pushed too much chakra into his palm and the leaf simply crumpled under the force. Other times he reduced the flow until the chakra barely stirred the air.

Still nothing.

By the third day, the quiet curiosity had begun to fade.

The leaf remained perfectly intact.

By the fourth, irritation had settled in.

And by the end of the week, frustration had taken its place entirely.



---





It was Saturday morning when Reiji walked through the streets of Konoha with a scowl on his face.

'Why can't I cut this stupid leaf?'

The training was starting to get on his nerves.

Reiji didn't consider himself arrogant—at least not when it came to actual skill—but he knew when he was doing something correctly. His control was steady. His chakra flowed exactly as he intended.

Thin.

Sharp.

Focused.

He had followed every part of his father's explanation.

And yet nothing happened.

Not even the faintest mark.

Reiji glanced down at the leaf resting in his palm.

He pushed chakra through it again as he walked.

The leaf trembled slightly between his fingers.

Then it settled.

Perfectly whole.

"…Fuck."

He clenched his jaw.

Is it not thin enough?

Not sharp enough?

'My ass.'

It's thinner than a blade already. Practically a string.

And it still doesn't cut anything.

For the first time since he had begun training seriously as a shinobi, something unfamiliar crept into his thoughts.

Doubt.

He slowed his pace slightly as the thought formed.

Was he simply not talented enough?

The idea felt strange, almost ridiculous. Reiji had never been the best in the academy, but he had never been incompetent either. Every exercise he had attempted eventually made sense.

Tree walking had taken time.

The academy jutsu had taken repetition.

But there had always been progress.

Even small progress.

This?

Nothing.

And he was doing everything correctly.

Reiji exhaled slowly, trying to calm the irritation building in his chest.

Then another thought surfaced—one he liked even less.

Was he going to disappoint his father again?

The memory flickered unpleasantly in the back of his mind. His father's quiet expectations. The way Homura rarely raised his voice, yet somehow made failure feel heavier than any scolding could.

Reiji stopped walking for a moment.

No.

He shook his head firmly.

There had to be something he was missing.

A detail.

A feeling.

Some small piece of understanding he hadn't grasped yet.

Because if shinobi across the world could learn elemental chakra…

Then so could he.

He pushed the darker thoughts aside and lifted his head again.

Only then did he realize he had stopped in the middle of the street.

And that the tall wooden gates of the Uchiha compound stood directly in front of him.

Tall wooden gates marked with the red-and-white fan crest. Dark tiled roofs rose behind the walls, orderly and severe, like the clan itself.

Leaning against the wall beside the entrance was a boy with dark hair and a annoyed expression.

Arata.

"You're late," the young Uchiha said.

Reiji shrugged.

"Your brother didn't specify the hour."

"Well, yeah," Arata said irritated. "He said morning. Not just before noon."

Reiji rolled one shoulder lazily.

"Sorry. I was busy with something else."

He paused, then added with a small grin,

"Besides, it should be fine. I'm getting a little hungry too. I'm sure your family won't let a guest starve when it's time to eat, right?"

Arata's face tightened in irritation before he groaned and rubbed his face.

"God… this is going to be a long day, isn't it?"

Reiji's grin widened.

"You bet."

Yes, Reiji was frustrated with his training.

But the chance to trade blows with an Uchiha who had awakened their Sharingan?

That was exactly the kind of distraction he needed.



---



They walked deeper into the Uchiha compound, and Reiji looked around with open curiosity.

The district was far quieter than the main streets of Konoha, but it was far from empty. People moved through their morning routines as if nothing about the place was unusual. An elderly man swept the front of his house with slow, careful strokes while two women chatted beside a small vegetable stall. Further down the street, a group of children ran past them chasing a wooden ball, their laughter echoing between the houses.

A shopkeeper was arranging baskets of fruit outside his doorway. Someone else was hanging fresh laundry on a line stretched between two wooden posts. The smell of grilled fish drifted faintly from an open window.

If not for the red-and-white fan painted on several walls and hanging above doorways, Reiji might have believed he was simply walking through another quiet neighborhood of Konoha.

It looked… completely normal.

He had expected something… grander.

"It's really like any other part of the village," he said after a moment.

Arata glanced sideways at him.

"What do you mean?"

Reiji shrugged as they walked.

"I don't know. When I imagined visiting the district of the most famous clan in Konoha, I expected something… more."

Arata chuckled quietly.

"Don't say that in front of the Hyūga twins. They'd see red."

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"Why? It's true, isn't it? The Uchiha are more famous."

Arata's chest puffed up slightly.

"Of course we are. But those white-eyed freaks don't like admitting it."

Reiji slowly turned his head toward him.

"Heeey… I didn't know you were racist."

Arata snorted.

"Not racist. Just realistic. My mother says they can spy on people while they're bathing. Apparently they can even see through clothes."

He shuddered slightly.

Reiji blinked.

"That sounds extremely useful though."

Arata stopped walking for half a step and stared at him.

"…Of course you'd say that."

They continued walking until the path opened toward a large house.

It was a traditional wooden residence with a wide tiled roof and sliding doors facing a spacious courtyard. Carefully trimmed trees lined the stone walkway, their branches casting shifting shadows across the ground as the wind stirred the leaves. The house itself was elegant but simple—well maintained without being overly decorated.

It looked… surprisingly familiar.

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"Huh. I didn't know you were rich."

Arata shrugged casually.

"My father is the chief of the police force."

He said it like that explained everything.

Reiji rolled his eyes.

"Of course. And your father is also the head of the Uchiha clan, I suppose?"

Arata looked at him.

"Yeah."

Reiji muttered under his breath, deadpan.

"Well. That's convenient."

He glanced sideways at Arata again.

'Why are all the idiots around me the children of important people?'

A moment later another thought followed.

'I'm starting to really think this village is doomed.'

He shuddered dramatically.

Arata eyed him suspiciously.

"What are you thinking about? I know that look."

Reiji blinked.

"What look?"

"The look you always get right before you say someone is an idiot."

Reiji smiled pleasantly.

"You know me well."

Arata scowled but said nothing.

Instead he slid the door open and called into the house.

"Brother! He's here!"

The sound echoed briefly through the hallway.

A few moments later footsteps approached from deeper inside the house—measured and unhurried.

Fugaku appeared in the doorway, calm and composed as always.

"Ah, Reiji. Welcome. I hope my brother welcomed you properly."

"Well…" Reiji said slowly, noticing Arata stiffen beside him. "He wasn't very enthusiastic at the start."

He paused deliberately.

"But he was accommodating in the end."

Beside him Arata released a quiet breath of relief.

If Fugaku noticed anything suspicious in that statement, he chose not to comment on it.

"Our parents are already at work," Fugaku continued calmly. "But they said you are welcome in our home. Would you like something to eat before sparring with my brother?"

Reiji shook his head.

"No thanks. Maybe later. Right now I just want to see those eyes in action."

Fugaku's gaze shifted briefly toward Arata.

The younger Uchiha nodded with quiet confidence.

"Very well," Fugaku said. "Follow me."

They walked around the house toward the garden behind it.

The space opened suddenly into a wide clearing surrounded by tall, carefully maintained trees. Their branches formed a loose canopy overhead, letting shafts of sunlight spill across the grass below. A large pond occupied one side of the garden, its dark surface broken only by the slow movement of koi gliding beneath the water.

Near the center of the clearing the ground had been cleared of roots and stones, leaving a smooth patch of grass worn flat by years of practice.

Reiji glanced around, impressed despite himself.

"Nice place."

"Thank you," Fugaku replied calmly. "You will spar here."

Reiji rolled his shoulders, loosening the stiffness in his arms as he stepped onto the grass. The ground felt firm under his sandals, the earth compacted by countless previous matches.

"I suppose I should ask," he said casually, stretching one arm across his chest, "what the rules are."

"Taijutsu only for now," Fugaku answered. "And I will stop the match when I deem it necessary."

"And when is that?"

"I will judge that," Fugaku said flatly.

Reiji gave him a sidelong look but didn't argue.

Instead he turned toward Arata, who had just finished loosening his shoulders.

"You ready to kiss the ground again?"

To Reiji's mild surprise, Arata didn't react to the bait.

The boy simply adjusted his footing on the grass.

"Don't cry when you lose," he replied calmly.

Reiji tilted his head slightly.

'Oh?'

A grin almost broke across his face.

'You grew a spine now?'

But before he could say anything else, he noticed something far more interesting.

Arata's eyes changed.

The transformation happened in a single blink.

Dark pupils turned crimson red, and within them a single tomoe rotated slowly like a drop of ink suspended in water.

For a moment Reiji simply stared.

The effect was strangely mesmerizing.

'So that's the Sharingan.'

Excitement stirred immediately in his chest.

A grin spread slowly across his face.

Both boys lowered themselves into fighting stances.

Arata's posture was tense but steady, feet planted firmly on the grass as his gaze locked onto Reiji with unnatural focus.

Reiji's stance was looser, lighter.

Almost eager.

"Ready?" Fugaku asked.

They nodded.

"Begin."

Reiji moved first.

The grass bent beneath his foot as he pushed forward, closing the distance with sudden speed. His weight shifted smoothly from heel to toe as he drove into striking range, his right shoulder turning slightly as his arm shot forward. The punch was clean and direct, aimed straight for Arata's face.

It should have landed.

Instead, Arata's head slipped backward just before the strike arrived. The movement was small—barely more than a lean—but it was perfectly timed. Reiji's knuckles passed a breath from the boy's nose.

Reiji didn't pause. His momentum carried into the next motion as he pivoted on his planted foot and whipped a low kick toward Arata's thigh, aiming to disrupt his stance. Arata reacted instantly, turning his knee outward to intercept the strike. The impact sent a dull shock through Reiji's shin.

Reiji used the contact to spin his hips, converting the motion into an elbow aimed for Arata's ribs.

Arata twisted aside again.

The elbow sliced through empty air.

Reiji's foot slid across the grass as he adjusted his balance, his body continuing the rotation. A spinning kick followed immediately, his leg cutting through the space where Arata had just been standing.

But Arata had already moved.

The Uchiha stepped out of range with surprising precision, his crimson eyes locked on Reiji's movements.

They separated slightly, both boys shifting their footing on the grass.

Reiji's eyes narrowed.

Arata's gaze was strange.

The red pupils flickered constantly, tracking every small adjustment Reiji made—his shoulders, his hips, even the way his weight settled onto one leg or the other.

Reiji stepped in again.

This time he attacked faster.

A quick jab toward the chest.

Arata blocked.

A hook toward the jaw.

Arata leaned away.

Reiji stepped closer and drove a knee toward the stomach.

Arata twisted aside, the knee brushing his hip instead of striking cleanly.

They moved through the clearing as they fought, feet sliding over grass flattened by repeated steps. The pond beside them rippled slightly where koi shifted beneath the water, disturbed by the vibrations of their movements.

Reiji pressed forward with another short combination.

A straight punch.

A low kick.

A sudden elbow.

Each attack flowed naturally into the next, his body turning and resetting with practiced rhythm.

And yet every strike missed.

Arata moved before the attacks fully formed.

Sometimes he blocked. Sometimes he slipped aside. Sometimes he simply stepped out of range.

But every reaction came just a moment too early to be coincidence.

Reiji broke away and took two steps back, creating space between them. His breathing remained steady as he studied the boy across from him.

Arata smirked.

"What? Scared now?"

Reiji didn't answer. His attention was still fixed on the crimson eyes staring back at him.

Then his hand twitched toward the pouch at his hip.

Arata reacted instantly.

He jumped backward.

Reiji's grin widened.

'Interesting.'

"You were reaching for a kunai!" Arata said defensively.

"Really?" Reiji replied, lowering his hand again. "Must be your imagination."

Arata's jaw tightened.

Then he lunged.

Reiji shifted his stance as the distance vanished again, his weight settling lightly on the balls of his feet. Arata's punch came fast, aimed straight at his face.

Reiji tilted his head aside, letting the strike skim past his cheek, and countered with a jab toward the chest.

Arata blocked.

A kick followed immediately, snapping toward Reiji's ribs.

Reiji stepped back just far enough for the attack to miss, his foot sliding across the grass.

The exchange accelerated.

Fists and legs moved rapidly between them as they circled through the clearing. Grass flattened under their shifting steps as each tried to gain a better angle.

Arata's Sharingan tracked everything.

Reiji noticed it clearly now.

The moment his muscles tensed for an attack, the crimson eyes reacted.

Before the punch.

Before the kick.

Before the motion even began.

Reiji ducked beneath a strike aimed at his temple and slid to the side, his foot digging into the grass to stop his momentum.

'So that's how it works', he thought.

It reads the body.

Muscle movement. Shifts in balance. The intention behind the attack.

He drove a quick strike toward Arata's chest.

Arata blocked again.

'I'm faster than him.'

'But because he sees the attack coming…'

'We're stuck.'

Arata seemed to realize the same thing. A confident grin slowly spread across his face.

Reiji stepped back again, studying him carefully.

So that was the Sharingan.

It didn't make Arata stronger.

It simply allowed him to react before the attack truly existed.

'Impressive.'

But as he watched the boy adjust his stance across the clearing, a faint hint of disappointment crept quietly into his thoughts.

'…Is that it?'

For something spoken of with such weight—whispered about in the academy halls, praised in stories of legendary battles—Reiji had expected something more overwhelming.

The ability was useful, certainly. Predicting attacks was no small advantage. But it didn't make Arata faster. It didn't make him stronger. It didn't change the simple fact that every time Arata tried to press the attack, Reiji still slipped away before the strike could land.

Reiji rolled one shoulder slightly, loosening the tension in his arm as he considered the exchange.

If this was all the Sharingan could do…

Then the reputation of the Uchiha might be a little exaggerated.

Still, the thought lingered in the back of his mind as he watched those red eyes continue to track his movements with mechanical precision.

Useful.

But not invincible.

But as Reiji watched the boy move, something else caught his attention.

Arata's movements were changing.

Subtle adjustments in stance.

Cleaner steps.

Sharper angles.

The rhythm felt… familiar.

Reiji's eyes widened slightly.

'He's copying me.'

Reiji chuckled.

"What a copycat."

"You won't be smiling for long!" Arata snapped.

Reiji moved again.

A punch toward the jaw.

Arata leaned away easily, already preparing to counter the strike he had predicted would follow.

But the expected attack never came.

Instead, Reiji suddenly opened his hand and shoved his palm directly in front of Arata's face.

For a brief instant, Arata's entire field of vision was filled with fingers.

The Sharingan predicted a strike.

But there was no strike.

Only a hand.

That moment of confusion was enough.

Reiji's leg swept low across the grass, hooking behind Arata's ankles with precise timing.

Arata's footing vanished.

His body hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.

Before he could react, Reiji was already moving.

A fist struck his cheek.

His arm was seized and twisted sharply behind his back.

Reiji planted his foot firmly between Arata's shoulder blades, pressing him face-down into the grass and pinning him in place.

The clearing fell quiet again, broken only by Arata's irritated breathing.

Reiji tilted his head slightly as he looked down at him.

"You were saying?"



----

 

[TheSoulFrost]

****

The excitement of the fight still lingered in Reiji's chest long after the last movement had ended. The training ground behind the Uchiha compound had grown quiet again, the trampled grass still showing the marks where he and Arata had exchanged blows.

Across the clearing, Arata sat on the ground, breathing heavily. His hands rested on his knees as if he still expected them to move again, as if the fight might resume if he only steadied himself. But the outcome had already settled in his expression. Confusion mixed with frustration.

Reiji had beaten him.

Not easily. Not cleanly enough to feel effortless.

But clearly enough that even Arata knew it.

Fugaku had watched the entire exchange without interrupting. He stood a few paces away, arms loosely folded as he studied the ground where the fight had unfolded. His expression was calm, almost neutral, but Reiji noticed the subtle focus in his eyes. The older boy was replaying the movements in his head, measuring distances and reactions the way experienced shinobi did.

Finally Fugaku looked down at his younger brother.

"You rely too much on the Sharingan."

Arata blinked, caught off guard by the comment.

Fugaku continued in the same calm tone, neither harsh nor particularly gentle.

"The boost it gives you is addictive. Effective too. But that's exactly the problem." His gaze flicked briefly toward Reiji before returning to his brother. "If you start believing the dōjutsu makes you untouchable, you stop paying attention to the basics."

Arata frowned slightly, clearly not convinced.

Fugaku shook his head once.

"You need to stay calm. Keep your head clear. The Sharingan helps you read movement, but it doesn't win the fight for you."

The words hung in the air for a moment.

Then Fugaku shifted his attention back to Reiji.

"So," he said simply, "you next?"

Reiji blinked.

"Already?"

Fugaku nodded toward him.

"You sure you don't want to wait?"

Reiji rolled his shoulders, loosening the lingering tension in his arms. The fight with Arata had warmed his muscles but hadn't really satisfied him. The adrenaline was still there, humming beneath his skin.

"No," he said with a crooked grin. "I'm fired up. That was a good stretch, but it didn't scratch the itch."

Fugaku studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing something.

"I see," he said slowly. "What Arata said about you wasn't exaggerated."

Reiji smirked.

"That I'm awesome?"

A faint chuckle escaped Fugaku.

"Not exactly the word I would have used," he admitted. "But if that's what you prefer."

He straightened and let his arms fall to his sides.

"Alright. Let's fight now. We'll eat afterward."

He paused, then added evenly,

"But I'm sorry. No Sharingan from me. It would be too unfair."

Reiji rolled his eyes.

"You're a killjoy."

He tilted his head slightly.

"You're not going to refuse ninja tools and ninjutsu too, right?"

Fugaku raised an eyebrow.

"You're sure about that?"

Reiji shrugged.

After a moment Fugaku nodded.

"Alright. But dull blades only."

Reiji answered without speaking. He unclipped the pouch from his waist and tossed it across the clearing. Fugaku caught it easily and opened it, pulling out a kunai to inspect the blade. He turned it slowly in his fingers, running his thumb along the edge before nodding once.

Dull.

Exactly as promised.

He placed it back inside and tossed the pouch back.

"I see you came prepared."

Reiji caught it without effort.

"Of course," he said. "I've been waiting for that all week."

Fugaku shook his head slightly, amused.

Then he turned toward Arata.

"Go bring me mine as well."

Arata blinked at the sudden escalation. For a moment he looked like he might object, but instead he nodded and jogged toward the house.

While he was gone, Fugaku began stretching slowly. He rolled his shoulders, rotated his wrists, and loosened his neck with a quiet crack of bone. The movements were controlled and deliberate.

Reiji watched him carefully.

He's about twelve, Reiji thought. Maybe a little younger.

Twelve years old.

The son of the Uchiha clan head.

Not someone he could treat like Arata.

This was a genin.

An Uchiha genin.

A slow smile spread across Reiji's face.

You didn't get chances like this every day.

At this point he was almost convinced that Arata attacking him earlier had been a blessing.

---

They faced each other across the clearing, roughly ten paces apart. The ground beneath their feet was dry, packed dirt interrupted by patches of flattened grass from earlier training.

Neither of them moved.

Reiji let his eyes settle on Fugaku's stance rather than his face. Shinobi fights rarely began with the hands. They began with the feet. Weight shifted there first—tiny adjustments in balance that revealed intention before the strike ever came. If Fugaku leaned forward a fraction, if his heel lifted, if his center of gravity slid even slightly, Reiji would see it.

But nothing happened.

Fugaku stood balanced and relaxed, knees loose, shoulders easy, weight centered perfectly between both feet. The stance revealed nothing.

The silence stretched.

A breeze passed through the clearing, stirring the leaves overhead and rippling faintly across the pond behind Fugaku.

Reiji smiled.

Then he moved.

He burst forward in a low sprint, sandals scraping hard across the dirt as he closed the distance in two quick strides. His blade rose with the motion, angled toward Fugaku's shoulder in a fast diagonal cut meant to force an early reaction.

Fugaku adjusted with only half a step.

Steel struck steel.

The dulled blades collided with a sharp clack that sent a jolt through Reiji's arm. Fugaku's wrist turned at the moment of contact, redirecting the force of the strike instead of stopping it directly. The movement was subtle, but the effect was immediate—Reiji felt his own momentum slide past the target rather than landing cleanly.

Reiji let the recoil carry him into the next motion. His blade dipped low toward Fugaku's ribs before snapping upward toward the collarbone in a tight follow-up meant to catch the recovery.

Fugaku blocked both attacks with minimal movement. His forearms rotated just enough to intercept the blows, guiding them away rather than meeting them head-on.

Reiji stepped inside the guard, shifting his weight forward and thrusting straight toward Fugaku's centerline. The attack aimed for the narrow opening between their blades, forcing Fugaku to react immediately.

Fugaku intercepted again. His elbow dropped and his blade angled downward to catch the thrust before it could reach his torso. The counter came instantly—his wrist rolling through a quick return strike that forced Reiji to twist his shoulder and hop backward to avoid it.

Too smooth.

Fine.

Reiji flicked his wrist.

Three kunai left his hand in rapid succession.

One high.

One center.

One low.

The spread wasn't meant to hit directly. It forced Fugaku to track three attack lines at once, forcing movement and opening space.

Fugaku slipped through them easily. His head tilted aside just enough for the first blade to pass. His shoulder rotated slightly for the second.

The third—

He caught it cleanly in his hand.

Reiji grinned despite himself.

'Good reflexes.'

His hand dipped back into his pouch and came out with four shuriken. He snapped his arm forward, releasing them in a wide fan that spread across Fugaku's position. The blades spun low and fast, their angles uneven enough that none followed the same path.

Fugaku reacted immediately. His blade flashed once, knocking two aside with quick deflections. His wrist twisted again to redirect a third into the dirt.

The fourth—

Reiji disengaged.

Two quick steps backward opened distance as his hand slipped into the pouch once more. His fingers closed around the small sphere inside.

The smoke bomb hit the ground between them.

It burst with a sharp pop.

Gray smoke exploded outward in a rolling cloud that swallowed the clearing within seconds. Visibility vanished almost instantly as the haze spread low across the ground, blurring shapes and distance alike.

Reiji moved immediately.

"Bunshin no Jutsu."

Chakra surged through his coils and two clones formed beside him, their outlines solidifying before sprinting straight into the smoke. The academy technique produced only illusions, no physical bodies—but it will do for now.

Reiji's arm snapped forward again.

Three kunai sliced through the smoke.

One high.

One center.

One low.

The blades cut through the haze with sharp whistles, creating the sound and trajectory of a direct frontal attack. From Fugaku's perspective it would look like Reiji continuing the assault through the smoke.

Exactly what he wanted.

Reiji's fingers slipped to another kunai.

A thin wire ran through the ring at its base.

He hurled it wide.

The blade struck the trunk of a tree behind Fugaku with a dull thunk, biting deep enough to hold. The wire snapped tight between Reiji's hand and the tree.

He pulled.

The tension dragged his body sideways across the clearing as he pivoted around the smoke cloud. Dirt tore beneath his sandals as he used the wire to sling himself quickly across Fugaku's blind side. The maneuver carried him along the edge of the smoke instead of through it, placing him behind the target without revealing his movement.

The clones burst from the smoke first.

Both rushed straight toward Fugaku with blades raised.

Reiji followed from behind.

He closed the final steps quickly, shifting his hips and raising his blade high for a descending strike aimed squarely at Fugaku's back.

For a moment the setup looked perfect.

Then Fugaku vanished.

The body in front of Reiji dissolved into a block of wood.

Reiji's blade crashed into the training log with a dull crack, the impact running up through his shoulder as the strike buried into the surface.

"Kawarimi," he muttered under his breath.

Too late.

A shift of air behind him.

Reiji twisted instinctively, but a shadow had already dropped from the branches overhead. Fugaku landed lightly on the ground behind him, sandals touching the dirt with barely a sound.

Their blades collided again with a sharp clack as the fight resumed.

The smoke drifted slowly away across the clearing, thinning into pale strands that curled between the trees until the training ground came back into view. Reiji barely noticed it. The fight had tightened again, distance collapsing as he pressed forward, blade moving in short controlled arcs. His feet slid over the dirt and damp grass, weight shifting from heel to toe as he chained one attack into the next—feint, cut, thrust, recover—never allowing the rhythm to settle.

Fugaku absorbed everything.

Their weapons clacked together again and again, dull steel striking dull steel. Each block sent a jolt through Reiji's arm, the vibrations running through his wrist and elbow. Fugaku's movements were economical and precise; he turned his shoulders just enough, angled his blade just right, letting Reiji's momentum slide past him instead of meeting it head-on. He stepped slightly to the side when needed, never retreating more than a fraction of a step, never hurried, never off balance.

Just better.

Reiji shifted his stance and lunged again, twisting his hips to drive the strike harder. Fugaku caught the blade cleanly and rotated his wrist, redirecting the attack. The counter came instantly. Reiji barely brought his forearm up in time to block, and the dull blade slammed into the bone of his arm with a heavy thud.

Pain flared.

His fingers spasmed around the hilt as numbness crawled down his hand. For a split second he almost lost his grip. Reiji stepped back quickly, shaking his arm once to bring feeling back into it while drawing a sharp breath through his teeth.

'Damn'.

Even without the Sharingan, the difference was obvious.

But the pressure in his chest only tightened, that familiar spark of excitement that came when a fight finally demanded something real. His pulse hammered in his ears, lungs working faster now, body warming with every exchange.

'Yeah.'

'You didn't get this in school'.

Reiji surged forward again before the gap between them could widen. His left hand snapped to his pouch and two kunai flashed out mid-stride, spinning toward Fugaku's chest and shoulder. The throw forced Fugaku to shift aside, his body turning just enough to avoid the blades.

That moment was all Reiji needed.

He closed the distance immediately behind them, pushing off the ground with his back foot and raising his blade for a heavy downward strike meant to crash straight through Fugaku's guard.

But Fugaku didn't step back.

He stepped up.

His body coiled and then released, pushing off the ground in a light, effortless leap. He landed several meters away on the surface of the pond, chakra gathering beneath his sandals and spreading across the water like an invisible platform.

He didn't hesitate. The moment Fugaku landed on the water, Reiji redirected his own chakra downward, sending it through his legs and into his feet. The familiar pressure stabilized his footing as he stepped onto the pond as well. The water dimpled beneath his sandals before settling, faint ripples spreading outward across the glassy surface.

Fugaku's eyebrow lifted slightly.

Reiji rushed forward immediately, blade rising from below in a fast upward cut aimed at the older boy's torso. His foot slid across the water's surface as he pushed into the strike, hips turning to drive the motion.

Fugaku twisted aside.

Too fast.

But not fast enough to hide the flicker of surprise.

Reiji laughed under his breath as he recovered the blade, circling across the surface of the pond. Every step sent ripples spreading outward, distorting the reflection of the trees above them. The water shifted beneath his feet with each movement, forcing constant micro-adjustments in his balance.

His breathing had grown heavier now, chest rising and falling quickly as the fight stretched longer than the academy spars he was used to. But the sensation only sharpened his focus. His muscles felt alive, every movement precise, every reaction immediate.

He liked this.

The danger.

The movement.

The fight.

His grin widened as he leveled the blade toward Fugaku.

"Come on," he said. "Show me something."

The words hung between them for a moment before he added, voice edged with challenge,

"Is the son of the Uchiha clan head really that weak?"

Fugaku blinked.

Scarlet replaced the calm darkness of his eyes. Two tomoe rotated slowly into existence, the Sharingan settling into place as easily as a breath.

The air seemed to tighten.

Reiji felt it immediately. The difference wasn't visible in Fugaku's stance, but something about the way he watched now—about the quiet precision in those red eyes—shifted the entire fight.

Fugaku spoke calmly.

"I suggest that you plunge into the water."

His hands moved through seals with practiced speed.

Chakra gathered.

" Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu."

The flames erupted across the pond in an instant. A massive sphere of fire tore across the water's surface, heat slamming into Reiji's face like an open furnace. The reflection of the blaze turned the pond into a sheet of molten orange.

No time.

Reiji dropped.

Cold water swallowed him whole as the fire roared overhead. The sudden shock of the pond drove the air from his lungs and stole the heat from his skin in an instant.

Above him the water churned violently as the fireball tore across the surface. Light flashed red through the water, rippling across the distorted reflections.

Reiji kicked deeper, forcing himself downward until the worst of the heat passed. His lungs already burned from the sudden dive. The blade felt heavy in his hand as he swung it once beneath the water to test the resistance.

Slow.

The water dragged against every movement, thick and stubborn.

But usable.

He angled his body upward, eyes tracking the shifting silhouette above the surface where Fugaku stood balanced on the water.

Then he paused.

Reiji's hand slipped into his pouch.

Two kunai.

Timing mattered.

If he surfaced first, the Sharingan would read the motion instantly.

So he threw first.

The kunai burst from the surface of the pond in twin sprays of water, spinning upward toward Fugaku's chest. The blades cut through the air with a sharp whistle.

Fugaku reacted immediately, shifting his stance to the side.

Just enough.

That was when Reiji exploded out of the water.

The pond shattered around him as he surged upward, water cascading off his shoulders and hair. The cold air hit his skin as he launched himself forward with everything he had left.

Reiji laughed breathlessly as he rose.

"Ahaha—"

Water streamed from his hair.

"You're fucking crazy."

He lunged forward, blade cutting toward Fugaku's torso in a fast, committed strike.

But the Sharingan was already turning.

Fugaku moved first.

He stepped aside before the attack could finish and caught Reiji's wrist with a firm grip. His fingers twisted sharply, sending a bolt of pain up Reiji's arm. The blade slipped from his hand and splashed into the pond.

Fugaku's other hand drove into his shoulder, pushing through his balance point.

The world tilted.

Reiji crashed back into the water with a heavy splash. Before he could recover, Fugaku had already pinned his arm behind his back, forcing him face-down against the surface of the pond.

The fight ended in a single clean motion.

Silence settled across the water again.

Reiji lay half-submerged, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Water dripped from his hair and ran down his face while his shoulder throbbed where Fugaku had forced him down.

Fugaku released him and stepped calmly across the pond toward the bank, his balance steady as if the water were solid ground.

Reiji rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. His lungs burned, muscles aching from the fight.

Then he laughed.

Short.

Breathless.

Yeah.

You definitely didn't get this in school.




---



Reiji pushed himself up from the pond, water dripping from his hair and sleeves as he climbed onto the bank. His clothes clung heavily to him and his shoulder still throbbed faintly where Fugaku had twisted his arm and forced him down, but the lingering ache only made the grin on his face widen. The fight had left his muscles warm and alive, the lingering adrenaline still humming through his chest.

Arata stood a few steps away, staring at him as if he had just witnessed something that didn't quite make sense.

Fugaku was equally soaked but otherwise composed. He brushed some of the water from his sleeves before glancing at Reiji again, studying him with attention.

"You really are a monster," Fugaku said at last, his tone calm but thoughtful. "Are you really the same age as my brother? You're what… eight?"

"Nine," Reiji corrected, wringing water from his sleeve before running a hand through his damp hair. "I had my birthday not too long ago."

Arata blinked again, clearly still trying to process what he had just seen.

Fugaku folded his arms loosely as he continued observing Reiji, his expression thoughtful rather than impressed in any dramatic way.

"For your age," Fugaku said evenly, "you're impressive. I could even say I wonder why you're still in the academy."

Arata's head snapped toward his brother immediately.

"Brother, aren't you exaggerating a little?" he asked.

Fugaku turned his head slowly and looked at him the way someone might look at a student who had just missed something obvious.

"Did you not see that?" he asked flatly. "That is not something an academy student should be capable of."

He paused for a moment before adding calmly,

"Nobody— not even me—was that strong at his age."

Arata scratched the back of his head awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable under his brother's gaze.

"Well… he's not even first in the class," he muttered.

Reiji's head snapped toward him instantly.

"Ah?" he said sharply. "What did you say?"

Arata shrugged as if the answer were obvious.

"It's true. Minato is better. Everyone knows it."

Reiji scowled immediately.

"Will you all stop worshipping this guy?" he snapped. "He's not that great. I don't see the hype."

Arata stared at him for a moment, his expression turning curious.

"Why do you always blow up whenever we talk about Minato?" he asked. "Are you jealous or something?"

Reiji's gaze locked onto him with enough intensity that Arata instinctively took half a step backward. Fugaku shifted slightly as well, positioning himself just a little closer to his younger brother without making the movement obvious.

Reiji rolled his eyes.

"I just can't stand him," he muttered. "Parading around the classroom like he's some hotshot. Acting like a saint. Nobody's perfect. He's just putting on a front."

Arata snorted.

"Yep," he said dryly. "Definitely jealous."

He quietly shifted another step behind Fugaku.

Reiji inhaled slowly through his nose, then exhaled. The irritation on his face faded gradually as he forced himself to calm down.

After a moment he looked back at Fugaku.

"Hey."

Fugaku glanced toward him. "Yes?"

Reiji rubbed the back of his head, eyes briefly dropping toward the ground.

"So… you can use fire jutsu, right?"

Fugaku blinked once.

"Yes."

"That means you've mastered your nature transformation?"

Fugaku tilted his head slightly.

"There is always room for improvement," he said calmly. "But yes. More or less."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why?" he asked. "Don't tell me you already started training it."

"Well… yeah."

Reiji scratched his cheek.

"But I'm stuck."

Fugaku folded his arms again.

"Well, that's normal, isn't it? It was never meant to be easy—"

"No," Reiji interrupted, shaking his head immediately. "I know myself. I did it correctly. But it still doesn't work."

Fugaku regarded him with a slightly puzzled look.

Arata leaned closer to his brother and muttered under his breath,

"You see what I deal with every day at school? The ego on this guy."

Reiji ignored him completely.

His attention remained fixed on Fugaku.

"Could you show me how you do it?"

Fugaku studied him for several seconds, clearly searching his expression for any sign that he might be exaggerating or misunderstanding something. After a moment he sighed quietly and nodded.

He bent down and picked up a leaf from the ground.

"I assume you're doing the leaf exercise."

"Yes."

"Well…" Fugaku said slowly as he placed the leaf in the center of his palm. "I'm not sure how much this will help."

His fingers closed around it.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then thin wisps of smoke began curling out between his fingers.

When he opened his hand again, the leaf had turned black and brittle, its edges slightly curled from heat.

"The process is different for each element," Fugaku explained calmly. "What's your affinity?"

"Wind."

Fugaku nodded.

"As you saw, mine is fire. I compress the chakra first and then expand it to generate heat. That's the simplest way to describe it."

He shrugged lightly.

"So I can't really help you with wind itself. The nature is too different."

Then his eyes changed.

The dark pupils were replaced by crimson.

Two tomoe turned slowly within the Sharingan.

"But I can still look," he said.

Reiji blinked.

"The Sharingan? Why?"

"To see how chakra moves through your body," Fugaku answered simply.

Reiji glanced toward Arata with obvious interest.

'Damn', he thought. 'I underestimated those eyes.'

Seeing chakra directly…

The tactical implications ran through his mind instantly.

That's absurd.

He turned back toward Fugaku.

"I didn't know that," he said. "Is it because your eyes are different? You have one more dot than Arata."

Fugaku blinked once in mild surprise.

"You have good eyesight," he said. "Most people don't notice the difference."

He shrugged lightly.

"The Sharingan usually awakens with the first tomoe. That grants excellent vision and improved reflexes. The second tomoe allows us to perceive chakra clearly."

He paused briefly.

"The third improves things further, but I don't know much about that yet."

Reiji hesitated.

"…Is it okay to tell someone outside the clan that?"

Fugaku looked at him steadily.

"You're a shinobi of Konoha," he said calmly. "And the Uchiha are one of the founding clans of Konoha."

His tone remained even.

"We have nothing to hide from each other."

He shrugged slightly.

"And even if you know it, it does not make the Sharingan any less powerful."

Then his attention returned to the problem at hand.

"As I said, I can see your chakra flow. I might be able to tell what you're doing wrong."

Reiji crossed his arms.

"I already told you," he said stubbornly. "I did everything right."

Fugaku sighed softly.

"If you say so."

Reiji scowled but didn't argue further. Instead he bent down and picked up another leaf from the ground before placing it carefully in the center of his palm.

He focused.

Chakra flowed from his coils, down his arm and into the leaf.

Nothing happened.

The leaf remained perfectly unchanged.

Fugaku frowned.

His Sharingan focused more carefully.



----

Fugaku watched as Reiji repeated the exercise again.

The crimson of the Sharingan settled fully into place, the two tomoe rotating slowly as he focused on the chakra network beneath the boy's skin. The flow through Reiji's pathways was surprisingly clean. Each current moved with clear direction and control, circulating through the coils with a discipline that most academy students didn't possess.

Fugaku had seen grown shinobi with worse control.

Which made the result even stranger.

"Again," Fugaku said.

Reiji gathered chakra once more.

This time Fugaku followed the movement more carefully. The chakra condensed beneath the surface of Reiji's body, tightening as it should when a shinobi attempted to impose a nature transformation.

For a brief moment, the quality of the chakra changed.

Then the flow stopped.

Instead of being expelled outward through the hand and into the leaf, the chakra collapsed inward, folding back into the boy's network as if it had struck some invisible barrier.

Fugaku's brow creased slightly.

"Strange."

Reiji looked up.

"What is?"

"You are shaping your chakra correctly," Fugaku said. "And you clearly have no difficulty using it. The academy techniques prove that."

Reiji frowned.

"Then why does this fail?"

Fugaku watched the chakra flow once more before answering.

"Because when you attempt the transformation… your chakra never leaves your body."

Reiji blinked.

"That doesn't make sense."

"No," Fugaku agreed calmly. "It doesn't."

For a moment he remained silent, the tomoe in his eyes turning slowly as he observed the strange behavior of the chakra once more.

Finally he deactivated the Sharingan.

"I do not know why it happens," he admitted. "But your chakra behaves… differently."



******
A/N : Naruto fights are some of my favorite scenes to read in fanfics. Unfortunately… writing them is a whole different story. They're way harder to choreograph than they look. I hope this one turned out well.

Also, just to reassure anyone wondering: Reiji's chakra situation isn't meant to nerf him, and it won't drag on for too long. It's part of the setup for what's coming next.

And regarding the mystery around his chakra… I have a feeling most of you already have a pretty good idea of what's going on.

Curious to hear what you thought about the fight and thanks for reading as always !

P.S: Chapter 16 is already available on Patreon for anyone who wants to read ahead.

 

[TheSoulFrost]

******

The walk back home felt longer than usual.

Reiji kept his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his jacket as he moved through the quiet streets of the district, his pace steady but unhurried.

His body was sore in a dozen small ways that reminded him of the afternoon's spar. Fugaku had not held back. Reiji could still feel the lingering strain in his forearms where he had absorbed several heavy strikes. The muscles in his shoulders ached from repeated blocks, the dull burn of exertion spreading through them whenever he moved his arms. One of his ribs throbbed faintly beneath his clothes, the result of a well-placed hit that had slipped through his guard when he mistimed a step during their exchange. Each breath pressed against the bruise with a quiet pulse of discomfort.

Under normal circumstances he would have welcomed the sensation. The soreness meant improvement, meant his body had been pushed further than it had been the day before. It was the familiar, almost reassuring consequence of training hard enough to grow stronger.

His mind remained fixed on something else entirely.

Fragments of the conversation with Fugaku replayed themselves in his thoughts as he walked, the words repeating with stubborn persistence.

Reiji exhaled slowly as he turned onto the final street leading toward his home, his gaze drifting across the familiar buildings without really seeing them. The issue still made little sense to him no matter how many times he turned it over in his mind.

Chakra transformation was not a particularly advanced concept. It was one of the foundational steps of shinobi training—the method by which raw chakra was converted into an elemental nature. Even academy students eventually grasped the principle once their control improved enough. It was the gateway to elemental techniques, the necessary step between possessing chakra and actually shaping it into something useful.

Without it, a shinobi's options narrowed drastically.

Cripplingly so.

Reiji's lips pressed into a thin line as the thought surfaced again.

He will not tell his father.

Not yet.

The idea of explaining the problem to him created an unpleasant tightness somewhere deep in his chest. His father valued competence more than almost anything else. Discipline. Progress. Measurable results. Weakness was something to be corrected quickly, not something to dwell on.

What would he think if he discovered that his son could not perform something so fundamental?

Reiji slowed slightly as he walked, the question lingering in the back of his mind.

Perhaps it was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Perhaps he had approached the exercise incorrectly or overlooked some small detail in the process. Chakra manipulation often required subtle adjustments that only became clear through repetition.

There were still other methods he could attempt. Other approaches to test.

If necessary, he could continue experimenting quietly for a while before involving his father. There was no reason to report a problem that might resolve itself with enough practice. Only once he was certain—truly certain—that the issue was real would it make sense to bring it to his father's attention.

Until then, it remained his problem to solve.

As his thoughts circled the matter again, another part of the earlier conversation resurfaced in his memory.

Fugaku's suggestion.

---

The image came back with surprising clarity—the two of them sitting near the edge of the training grounds after their spar, Fugaku watched him with that measuring expression he often wore when thinking something through.

Reiji had been the first to speak.

"A Hyūga?" he had asked, unable to hide the faint note of confusion in his voice.

Fugaku had nodded once, slow and certain.

"Yes. Their dōjutsu would make them the most suitable for something like this."

Reiji had frowned slightly at that. "What does the Byakugan have to do with it?"

Fugaku had rested his forearms on his knees as he considered the question. "The Sharingan is excellent for reading movements and copying techniques," he explained calmly. "But when it comes to observing the internal flow of chakra, it is limited."

His gaze had shifted briefly toward Reiji.

"The Byakugan is different. A Hyūga can see the chakra network itself."

Reiji had remained silent, listening.

"They see the tenketsu," Fugaku continued. "The points where chakra flows in and out of the body. They can observe how chakra moves through the coils and pathways with a precision no other dōjutsu can match. If something about your chakra flow is abnormal… they would notice."

Reiji had considered that possibility quietly.

"And they would be able to tell why the transformation fails?"

Fugaku had shrugged lightly. "If the cause lies within your chakra network, they might."

The conversation had ended not long after that.





---



Yet the idea lingered.

Now, as Reiji approached the gate of his house, the thought returned once more. Seeking help from another clan was not something he particularly liked the idea of. Still, if the problem truly lay somewhere inside the structure of his chakra network, a Hyūga might be the only ones capable of identifying it.

He slowed as he reached the entrance.

Something unusual caught his attention.

Someone was sitting just beside the front of the house.

A man leaned against the wooden wall near the entrance, elbows resting loosely on his knees while his head tilted downward as though he had been waiting there for some time. The posture was relaxed—almost lazy—but there was a stillness about him that suggested patience rather than boredom.

Reiji frowned slightly as he stepped closer.

Loitering outside someone else's house was hardly appropriate behavior.

"Hey," he said flatly as he approached. "Don't slouch here. Go somewhere else."

The man lifted his head.

Silver hair caught the light of the fading sun.

Recognition came immediately.

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

The man's expression shifted just as quickly, the brooding look vanishing in an instant as a bright, easy smile spread across his face.

"Reiji!"

He pushed himself upright with casual ease, brushing a bit of dust from his clothes as if the whole situation had been perfectly normal.

"Just the man I needed."

Sakumo Hatake looked entirely too pleased to see him





Reiji frowned at once.

"Could you please not talk to me like we're close?" he said flatly, stopping a few steps away. "It's creepy."

Sakumo placed a hand over his chest in exaggerated offense, his posture straightening as if the words had struck him deeply.

"Come on," he said lightly. "Don't be like that. I know you're not that cold."

Before Reiji could react, Sakumo stepped forward and reached down, his hand ruffling Reiji's hair with casual familiarity.

Reiji's reaction was immediate. His hand snapped upward, slapping Sakumo's wrist away before the man could do it a second time. The motion made the bruise in his forearm protest sharply, a dull pulse of pain running up his arm from the earlier spar with Fugaku, but the irritation burning across his face outweighed it.

"Stop touching my hair every damn time!"

Sakumo burst out laughing.

The sound was loud and unrestrained, completely at odds with the quiet street around them.

"Ahaha! See?" he said between breaths. "Adorable."

Reiji stared at him in silence for a moment, the annoyance in his expression deepening as he tried to decide whether this man was actually serious or simply incapable of behaving like a normal adult. After a moment he let out a slow breath and forced the irritation down.

"What do you want?"

"Well," Sakumo replied easily, scratching the back of his head in a gesture that suddenly made him look like someone who had been caught doing something mildly embarrassing, "I came to see your father. It's been a while since we last talked."

Reiji glanced toward the house behind him, then back at Sakumo.

"Well, what's the problem?" he asked. "You're here. Just knock."

The smile on Sakumo's face shifted slightly. It didn't disappear, but something about it became more awkward, his shoulders lifting in a faint shrug as if he already knew how ridiculous the explanation was going to sound.

"Yeah… about that."

Reiji waited.

"Your father doesn't want to see me," Sakumo admitted after a moment.

Reiji blinked.

"He closed the door in my face when he saw me."

The silence that followed stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.

Reiji simply stared at him.

"Are you sure you're friends," he asked slowly, "and this isn't just a misunderstanding?"

Sakumo chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck again.

"Well… we are still friends."

He paused.

"Probably."

Another pause followed, longer this time.

"I hope so."

Reiji raised an eyebrow, studying the man's expression carefully. Sakumo didn't look particularly worried, which only made the situation seem more absurd.

"He just likes to play hard to get," Sakumo added quickly. "Just like you."

"Sure…" Reiji replied dubiously.

He turned slightly toward the door, already losing interest in the conversation.

"Well, that's certainly interesting, but—"

Sakumo suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders.

The movement was quick but not rough. Still, the sudden contact made Reiji stiffen slightly, his muscles tightening instinctively from habit more than fear. Sakumo's grip was firm, his expression abruptly serious in a way that made the shift in tone impossible to ignore.

"Please help me, Reiji."

His voice had lost its joking edge.

"This is really important. For me… and for your father."

Reiji studied his face for a moment, searching for the humor he expected to find there. None appeared. Sakumo looked genuinely earnest.

After a few seconds, Reiji sighed.

"Well… alright," he said finally. "If you want to get kicked out again, that's your problem."

He stepped forward and slid the door open.

The familiar scent of the house greeted him immediately—wood, tea leaves, and the faint lingering smell of incense from earlier in the day.

"Father, I'm here," he called into the house. "A suspicious man wants to see you."

"Hey—!" Sakumo protested behind him.

From deeper inside the house came his father's calm, even voice.

"Tell him I'm busy."

Reiji turned his head slightly and looked back at Sakumo.

"He says he's busy," he said evenly. "Sorry."

Sakumo stared at him.

The look on his face was completely deadpan.

For a brief moment neither of them spoke.

Then Sakumo suddenly raised his voice.

"Oy! Soichiro!"

His tone carried easily through the house.

"If you don't come out right now, I'm going to tell your son about that thing you did with that noble girl once!"

A beat of silence passed.

Then the door inside the house slid open sharply.

"Stop," his father said flatly.

A deep, weary sigh followed.

"I understand."

He stepped aside, his tired gaze landing directly on Sakumo with irritation.

"Come in, you buffoon."

---





Reiji prepared the tea in silence.

The small kitchen was quiet except for the soft sounds of water being poured and ceramic cups lightly touching the wooden table. Steam rose slowly from the kettle, carrying with it the faint, familiar scent of tea leaves that filled the room. Outside, the light of the afternoon slipped through the paper windows, casting a pale glow across the floorboards and the low table where the two men sat.

Behind him, his father rested in his chair with the relaxed stillness of someone completely at ease. One arm lay on the table, his chin supported by his hand as he watched the room with an expression that bordered on boredom. He had not moved much since entering the kitchen, his posture calm and composed in that controlled way Reiji had grown used to over the years.

Across from him, Sakumo Hatake sat in noticeable contrast and looked strangely uncomfortable.

He shifted slightly in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against his thigh before stopping himself. His gaze wandered around the kitchen, examining the shelves, the neatly arranged utensils, the clean floor, anything that might allow him to delay whatever conversation had brought him here.

"Nice house," Sakumo said eventually, gesturing vaguely around the room. "Very well maintained. Mine's a mess most of the time. Do you clean it yourself, or are you using your son—"

"Can you just tell me why you are here?"

Soichiro's voice cut through the room without raising in volume.

Sakumo stopped mid-sentence.

The silence that followed was heavier this time. Reiji placed the tray carefully on the table, setting the cups down one by one before stepping slightly aside, though he remained close enough to hear the conversation clearly.

Sakumo stared down at the steam curling slowly upward from his cup. For a moment he said nothing, as though weighing his words carefully.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm getting married."

Reiji saw his father's gaze lift slightly.

"That is… unexpected."

Sakumo let out a short breath that might have been a laugh, though it carried a hint of awkwardness.

"She's pregnant."

The words were spoken simply, without hesitation, yet Reiji noticed the faint stiffness in his shoulders as he said them.

His father blinked once.

"You?" Soichiro said.

"I always thought you were the prudent one."

Sakumo rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little less confident than the legendary shinobi people spoke about.

"I don't know if it's appropriate to say this in front of a child," he admitted with a crooked smile. "But… she might have jumped me."

Reiji's face twisted immediately.

"I really didn't need to hear that."

Soichiro sighed quietly.

"You brought him with you."

Sakumo laughed.

"Sorry. But it's true."

The brief moment of humor faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. Sakumo leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers still resting behind his neck as if the gesture helped him think.

"I never thought I would marry," he said after a moment.

"And even less that I would become a father."

For the first time since entering the house, there was a faint uncertainty in his expression. It was subtle, but Reiji noticed it immediately. He had been studying people long enough to recognize the shift.

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for that kind of life."

His gaze lifted again, steadier now.

"But this is where life led me."

A brief pause followed before he spoke again, his voice quieter.

"I'm afraid, Soichiro."

That seemed to catch his father's attention more than anything else Sakumo had said so far. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Knowing I will be a father… it makes me think about the life we live."

"We made our choice knowing that," Soichiro replied calmly.

Sakumo shook his head slowly.

"Can we really say that?"

"We were born into shinobi clans. There was never really another path for us."

The room grew quiet again.

Reiji stood near the table, watching them while keeping his expression neutral. He had heard discussions like this before, though rarely spoken so openly.

Sakumo stared down at his hands for a moment before continuing.

"My child will almost certainly become a shinobi," he said. "He'll be the sole heir of my clan."

"I have no one else."

He paused briefly, the words settling in the quiet kitchen.

"I used to be fine with that."

"But now… I'm terrified."

His gaze lifted toward Soichiro again.

"You understand that feeling."

"We may have peace now," Sakumo continued, "but we both know it won't last. The situation with Kirigakure was only the beginning."

"Almost every border is becoming unstable."

Soichiro's expression did not change.

"It is not time yet."

"I know," Sakumo replied quietly.

"But knowing my child will be born into this world…"

He hesitated.

"You remember how it was before the peace. Children were sent to war without hesitation."

"We may call ourselves a village now, but some things haven't truly changed."

His gaze shifted toward Reiji.

"I can see your son is already strong for his age. You are preparing him well."

Soichiro's eyes hardened slightly.

"Reiji knows his duty," he said.

"He has accepted it."

A brief pause followed.

"I may be a useless man now," Soichiro continued calmly, "but my son will not be a disappointment."

Sakumo glanced between the two of them, something uneasy passing through his expression.

"Don't treat him like an ignorant child," Soichiro added. "He knows what is coming. And he is prepared for it."

Reiji gave a small nod, acknowledging the words without speaking.

Sakumo looked at him for a moment.

There was something sad in his expression now.

"You have to stop punishing yourself like this," he said quietly to Soichiro. "It's been almost ten years."

Soichiro did not react.

"The Hokage pardoned my useless self despite what I did," he replied calmly. "I will repay that debt, even if it is the last thing I do."

Reiji returned to the table and carefully adjusted the cups, giving himself something to focus on as his father continued speaking.

"Reiji is my pride."

"And he will soon be one for the village as well."

For a moment Reiji froze.

The words settled somewhere deep in his chest, heavier than he expected.

He turned away quietly, pretending to adjust the plates on the tray. The faint sting behind his eyes disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Across the table, Sakumo exhaled slowly but said nothing.

The kitchen fell silent again, the quiet broken only by the faint crackle of the kettle cooling beside the stove.

Finally, Sakumo spoke once more.

"I came today to tell you I will marry soon."

He looked directly at Soichiro.

"And because of that…"

He paused briefly.

"I wanted to ask if you would become my child's godfather."

For the first time, Soichiro's calm expression faltered.



---

A/N : I've always been curious about Sakumo as a character. Since we don't know much about him in canon, I'm kind of exploring and building him alongside you.

It makes him really fun to write, especially in interactions like this.

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you thought of the chapter!

Also, I just released Chapter 17 ahead on Patreon for those who want to read in advance.

 

[chalicecharlie]

This is good

 

[TheSoulFrost]

This is good

Click to shrink...

Glad you like it

 

[TheSoulFrost]

For several seconds after Sakumo spoke, the kitchen remained completely still.

Soichiro sat across the low table, his gaze resting on Sakumo with the same calm, unreadable steadiness he carried into every conversation. The posture itself seemed relaxed—one arm resting against the table, his shoulders loose—but Reiji had learned long ago that stillness from his father rarely meant indifference.

Then, slowly, Soichiro shook his head.

"I… no."

The refusal came quietly, but there was no hesitation in it.

Sakumo blinked.

Soichiro leaned back slightly in his chair, the faint tension in his expression tightening as though the words themselves had drawn something unpleasant to the surface.

"I am already enough of a failure as a parent," he said, his voice low but steady. "I will not add another responsibility."

The words fell heavily into the room.

Reiji felt them immediately.

He still stood beside the table with the empty tray in his hands, suddenly unsure where to place it. His fingers tightened unconsciously against the wood, the familiar knot of discomfort twisting quietly in his chest. He kept his gaze lowered toward the tea cups so neither of the adults would notice his reaction, but the weight behind his father's words pressed down on him with an uncomfortable familiarity.

Across the table, Sakumo frowned.

"I have only you, Soichiro."

"Find someone else."

The response came without hesitation.

Sakumo's jaw tightened slightly.

"Shingen would have wanted that."

Soichiro froze.

The name hung in the air like something fragile.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his eyes lifted toward Sakumo.

"That," he said quietly, "is despicable of you."

A faint, humorless smile touched his face.

"I was beginning to think I was the only asshole between the two of us."

Sakumo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck again, the gesture looking far less confident than the relaxed bravado he usually carried.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But I'm a little desperate here."

His expression hardened slightly as he looked back at Soichiro.

"You're the only person I can count on."

For a moment Soichiro said nothing.

Then he spoke again.

"Did you forget your wife's side?"

His voice had cooled slightly, though the tension beneath it had not entirely disappeared.

"I'm sure you could find someone there."

Sakumo shook his head.

"Like I said, this happened suddenly."

A small breath escaped him.

"I don't regret marrying her."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"But I don't know her family or her clan well enough to trust them with something like this."

Soichiro's eyebrow lifted slightly.

"So she is from a clan, then?"

"Yes."

Sakumo leaned back slightly against the floor cushions, resting his weight on one arm.

"She's an Inuzuka."

A quiet chuckle escaped Soichiro.

For the first time since the conversation had grown tense, a trace of amusement appeared in his voice.

"Well… now I see how she managed to tame you."

He lifted his tea cup and took a small sip.

"They tend to be rather wild when expressing their feelings."

Sakumo laughed.

"Ahaha… yeah."

He scratched lightly at his cheek.

"Honestly, I still think she's an anomaly even among them."

Soichiro glanced at him.

"Not very nice to say about your wife."

Sakumo shrugged easily.

"That's what I like about her."

His smile softened slightly.

"So it's fine."

Across the room, Reiji remained quiet, watching the two men as they spoke.

The conversation had shifted again. The tension that had filled the room moments earlier had loosened slightly, replaced by something calmer, though the earlier exchange still lingered in the air like an echo that refused to disappear.

Especially the name Sakumo had spoken.

Shingen.

Reiji had heard it only a handful of times before.

Yet the way his father had frozen when Sakumo said it told him everything he needed to know.

Some wounds never truly closed.

Reiji's fist tightened slightly around the edge of the tray.





For a few seconds after the conversation faded into silence again, none of them moved.

The warmth of the tea slowly dissipated as the steam above the cups thinned and disappeared, leaving the kitchen wrapped in a quiet stillness broken only by the faint creak of wood settling in the evening air.

Sakumo glanced down at his empty cup before pushing himself up from the floor.

"Well," he said lightly as he brushed his hands against his trousers, "I managed to accomplish my objective."

His tone had returned to its usual casual ease, though the faint weariness around his eyes had not completely disappeared.

"So I should probably go now."

He scratched the back of his neck with a crooked smile.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable any longer."

Reiji watched him as he stood.

Across the table, Soichiro did not respond immediately. His father remained seated where he was, one hand resting against his chin while his gaze drifted downward toward the surface of the table. The earlier conversation seemed to have drawn him into his own thoughts, leaving his expression distant, almost melancholy.

Sakumo waited a moment before turning toward the door.

He had nearly reached the entrance of the kitchen when he suddenly stopped.

"Ah—before I forget."

He turned around again.

"Soichiro."

His grin returned instantly.

"Now that you're the godfather, you'll have to attend the wedding."

The effect was immediate.

The quiet contemplation vanished from Soichiro's face, replaced by open irritation.

"Fuck off."

Sakumo burst out laughing.

"Ahaha! I'll send the invitation soon."

He waved lazily as he stepped toward the door.

"Well then. Goodbye."

As he passed Reiji, his hand suddenly dropped down and ruffled the boy's hair.

Reiji stiffened in surprise.

By the time he reacted, Sakumo had already slipped away and was halfway through the doorway.

Reiji shot a withering glare at the back of the departing shinobi.

A moment later the door slid closed with a soft wooden thud.

Silence returned to the house.

Reiji stood still for a moment before finally speaking.

"I don't like him."

Across the room, Soichiro let out a quiet breath.

"Well," he said calmly, "he can have that effect on people."

But despite the words, the faintest hint of a smile lingered at the corner of his mout

Soon the small smile on Soichiro's face faded.

The faint trace of amusement vanished as if it had never been there, leaving behind the calm, measured neutrality Reiji knew so well. His father leaned slightly back from the table, the movement slow and controlled, before his gaze shifted toward him again.

"Enough about that," he said. "Tell me about your visit with the Uchiha. How was it?"

Reiji blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.

For a moment he simply rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing absently through his hair as his mind drifted back to the training yard from earlier that afternoon. He could almost feel it again—the rough packed earth beneath his sandals, the dry scrape of dust shifting under quick footwork, the sharp sting that had spread through his arms each time he blocked one of Fugaku's strikes.

"Well…" he said slowly. "Enlightening, I guess."

He leaned his hip lightly against the edge of the table as he spoke, replaying the spar in his mind.

"Arata—my classmate, I mean—wasn't that impressive," he admitted. "Even with the Sharingan."

The memory shifted almost immediately to the second fight.

Fugaku's movements had been different entirely. Faster. Sharper. Every step placed with deliberate control, every strike coming from an angle that forced Reiji to react instead of attack. Even now he could still remember the weight behind those blows, the jarring impact that had traveled up his forearms when he blocked them.

"But his brother Fugaku is the real deal."

A faint spark of excitement crept into his voice despite himself.

"I can see why the Uchiha are so famous," he continued. "Those eyes are damn useful."

Soichiro nodded once.

"That is true."

He studied Reiji quietly for a moment, his gaze sharp but unreadable.

"And did you win?"

Reiji scratched his head awkwardly.

"Well… against Arata, yes. Of course."

He hesitated slightly before continuing.

"But not against his brother."

He straightened instinctively as he spoke, a faint defensive edge creeping into his tone.

"I mean, he's already a genin—and the son of the clan head."

"That is normal," Soichiro replied calmly. "It is a valuable experience."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"Now you have seen it for yourself. Even young prodigies can be terrifying."

His gaze sharpened slightly as he spoke, the quiet warning in his voice unmistakable.

"The other villages are the same. They all produce prodigies."

"Perhaps even more talented than that Fugaku or Minato."

The room seemed to grow a little quieter.

"You cannot fall behind them."

A brief pause followed.

"Or you will meet an early death when the time comes."

His eyes settled firmly on Reiji.

"Do you understand?"

Reiji swallowed.

"I… I know."

For a moment neither of them spoke. Reiji's gaze drifted briefly toward the floor before the thought that had been lingering in his mind finally surfaced.

"Then why am I still in the academy?"

A faint frustration slipped into his voice.

"I would progress much faster if I just spent my time training with you."

He shifted his weight slightly, the wooden floor creaking faintly beneath his foot.

"Those people just slow me down."

Soichiro exhaled slowly and rubbed his brow between two fingers.

"I have already explained this."

"The academy is mandatory."

"Despite your results, the village still considers you too young to become a genin."

He paused briefly, his gaze drifting away for a moment as though considering something.

"Well… that may change soon."

The last words were spoken more quietly, almost like a passing thought, before his attention returned fully to Reiji.

"Reiji."

His voice softened slightly.

"You should treasure this time."

"You should find allies."

A faint pause followed.

"Friends, if you can."

His gaze remained steady.

"You will need them when the time becomes difficult."

"No one can stand alone forever."

"Everyone needs help eventually."

A faint breath escaped him.

"Even the Hokage himself."

Reiji lowered his gaze slightly.

"I know."

He hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"I'm working on it."

Then he lifted his head again, a small spark of confidence returning to his voice.

"I'm already getting close to some people."

"The Uzumaki girl I told you about… and some of her friends."

He thought briefly before adding,

"Even Arata—and his brother, I guess."

A faint smile appeared on Soichiro's face.

"Good."

For a moment the room grew quiet again.

The silence between them was no longer tense. Just calm. The faint sounds of the village outside filtered through the paper walls—distant voices, the soft creak of wood shifting in the evening air.

Then Soichiro spoke again.

"So."

"How is your training progressing?"

Reiji froze.

The reaction was small but immediate. His fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table, the wood pressing into his palm.

"I…"

His father's gaze rested on him expectantly.

For a brief moment, the memory of the afternoon returned with uncomfortable clarity—the failed attempts, the stubborn resistance of his own chakra refusing to change nature no matter how carefully he tried to guide it.

Reiji forced his shoulders to remain relaxed.

"Everything is fine," he said finally.

"I've made some progress."

Soichiro nodded, clearly satisfied.

For the first time in his life, lying to his father felt heavier than any blow he had taken during training.



----



The house grew quiet as the evening settled over the district.

After the conversation ended, Soichiro eventually retired to his room, leaving the kitchen empty. Reiji cleaned the cups in silence, the faint sound of water running against ceramic echoing softly in the small space. Outside, night had begun to spread across the village.

When the last cup was placed back on the shelf, Reiji dried his hands and stepped outside.

The small training yard behind the house lay still beneath the darkening sky. The earth was hard-packed from years of use, the ground uneven in places where countless steps and strikes had worn shallow grooves into the soil. A wooden training post stood near the far edge of the yard, its surface scarred with old cuts and dents.

Reiji walked toward it slowly.

His body still carried the dull ache from the afternoon spar. When he rolled his shoulders, the muscles protested immediately, a lingering soreness spreading through his arms where Fugaku's blows had struck. Even his ribs still throbbed faintly when he drew a deeper breath.

Reiji stopped a few steps from the training post and let the quiet settle around him.

He closed his eyes.

Chakra gathered.

The sensation came easily—familiar, controlled. It flowed through him like a steady current, circulating along pathways he knew by instinct now. There was no resistance in it, no instability. When he guided it downward toward his arms, it obeyed without hesitation, pooling smoothly into his palms.

Reiji exhaled slowly and narrowed his focus.

Then he twisted the flow.

The change was subtle at first.

A slight shift in texture. A difference in weight.

The chakra in his palm thinned, sharpening into something finer, more precise. The steady current lost its softness and took on an edge—something that felt less like energy and more like a blade.

Wind.

Reiji's eyes opened a fraction.

He didn't move immediately. Instead, he held the sensation in place, testing it, feeling the way the chakra behaved under his control. It responded cleanly, without instability, flowing exactly as he intended.

No mistake.

Then he reached into his pouch and pulled out a leaf, placing it flat against his palm.

The thin surface rested lightly against his skin, unmoving.

Alright.

He adjusted his stance slightly, one foot sliding half an inch across the dirt to ground himself more firmly. His shoulders loosened, posture aligning as he prepared to push the chakra outward.

Now—

The wind-nature chakra flowed forward, guided through his arm toward his palm. He compressed it slightly, refining the shape, narrowing it further as it approached the surface.

For a brief instant—

Everything aligned.

The flow was smooth.

The shape was correct.

The pressure built exactly where it should.

Then—

Nothing.

The leaf didn't move.

He increased the output.

The chakra surged forward, pressing harder against the point of release. He refined it further, thinning it again, sharpening the edge as he forced it toward the surface.

The sensation changed.

Not failure.

Resistance.

The chakra reached the edge of his palm—

And stopped.

Reiji felt it clearly this time.

Not a loss of control.

Not dispersion.

A blockage.

Like the flow had collided with something invisible.

The pressure built inside his arm, the wind-nature chakra gathering tightly, compressing against a point that refused to open. The more he pushed, the more it stacked there, contained but unable to pass through.

The leaf remained perfectly still.

No tremor.

No cut.

Nothing.

Reiji's fingers tightened slightly beneath it.

"…Again."

He released the flow and reset.

This time he focused on the transition itself, smoothing every fluctuation, removing any instability before it could form. The chakra sharpened into something almost threadlike as it flowed down his arm, precise enough that he could feel every fraction of its movement.

Then he drove it forward.

The leaf didn't react at all.

He stared at the leaf a moment longer, then drew in a slow breath.

Without a word—

He gathered chakra again and while doing that, Fugaku's proposition replayed in his mind.

The Hyūga.

Their eyes could see the chakra system itself—every coil, every pathway, every tenketsu point in the body.

If something was wrong…

they would see it.

Reiji clenched his hand slightly.

The decision settled quietly in his mind.

If he wanted answers, he would have to find them himself.

And for the first time since the afternoon's discovery, Reiji began to seriously consider going there.

****


A/N : A shorter chapter this time, I didn't have as much time when I was writting this chap .

The next one is a big one though, probably the biggest I've written so far, so I hope you'll enjoy it.

Also, a bit unrelated, but since I'm still new here, what fics are you reading right now? I'm looking for recommendations.
I've been reading A Real Human Being (Frieren), and it's honestly peak.

See you soon!

Also like always I just released the chapter 18 on my Patreon if you want to read in advance

Quote Reply

 

[TheSoulFrost]

Reiji waited near the narrow street that led out of the Uchiha district, leaning lightly against the rough wooden post of a fence while watching the morning traffic of students drift toward the Academy. Most of the children walked in small groups, talking lazily about assignments or training exercises, their voices blending into a low murmur that barely registered in Reiji's mind.

His attention remained fixed on the entrance of the district.

It did not take long.

Arata appeared among the departing Uchiha children, stepping through the gate with the easy posture of someone used to the area. Reiji pushed himself off the fence immediately, timing his approach so that he intercepted the other boy just as he cleared the entrance.

Perfect.

"Arata, my friend."

Arata stopped mid-step.

The reaction was immediate and unmistakable. His shoulders stiffened, and his eyes narrowed the moment he recognized who had spoken.

"What do you want?"

Reiji offered a faint, almost polite smile, though the expression never quite reached his eyes.

"I was hoping you could introduce me to the Hyūga twins."

"No."

The refusal came so quickly it almost overlapped with the request.

Reiji exhaled slowly through his nose, as if disappointed by the predictability of the answer.

"Come on," he said, tilting his head slightly. "You know my condition now. Don't you have any sympathy?"

Arata crossed his arms tightly over his chest but didn' say anything else.

"You already owe me for what happened in the forest."

"Yes," Arata admitted without hesitation, his tone calm and reasonable. "But this is different. Ask me for something else, I'm not introducing you to my friends."

Reiji blinked once, genuinely curious.

"Friends?"

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, as though searching through a distant memory.

"Wasn't it you who belittled them the other day? What did you call them again…"

He hummed quietly to himself.

"Ah, yes."

Reiji's voice softened with false recollection.

"Those white-eyed freaks."

Arata's reaction was immediate.

"That's not—" he sputtered, the color rushing to his face. "That's what my parents say! I didn't mean— I don't actually think that!"

Reiji raised one eyebrow slowly, studying him with clinical interest.

"Really?"

For a few seconds he said nothing, simply watching the other boy's flustered expression, measuring the reaction the way he might observe an opponent's stance during sparring.

"I didn't realize you were that hypocritical."

Arata's face reddened further, his jaw tightening as frustration built.

Reiji continued in the same calm tone.

"I wonder how they would react if I told them."

Arata's body went rigid.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would," Reiji replied lightly.

His gaze drifted upward as if imagining the scenario.

"They might even thank me. After all, I would simply be revealing what a bad friend you are."

He paused, as though considering a new possibility.

"Actually… that's not a bad idea."

A faint smile formed on his lips.

"I could even ask them for a favor afterward."

Arata stared at him, disbelief fighting with anger.

"I know what you're doing," he muttered through clenched teeth. "But it won't work. They'd never believe you."

Reiji shrugged lazily.

"I can be very convincing."

The silence stretched between them for several seconds. Reiji could practically see the calculation happening behind Arata's eyes: pride, embarrassment, the risk of the rumor spreading. Eventually the tension left the other boy's shoulders in a long, irritated breath.

"Fuck you, Reiji. You really never change."

Reiji tilted his head.

"Says the stabber."

The reminder landed exactly where he intended. Arata grimaced.

Reiji continued in a thoughtful tone.

"I'm actually doing this for your friends' safety. I have good intentions."

Arata rolled his eyes hard enough that Reiji almost respected the effort.

"Enough," he muttered. "I get it. I'll introduce you."

Reiji's smile widened slightly.

"Oh, Arata. I knew you would understand."

Before the other boy could object, Reiji casually draped an arm across his shoulders and began steering him down the road toward the Academy. Arata stiffened but didn't immediately shake him off, which Reiji interpreted as a small victory.

"We started on bad terms," Reiji continued cheerfully, "but I'm beginning to see you're actually a pretty cool guy."

Arata groaned.

"I'm already regretting this."

"You're funny too," Reiji said, completely ignoring the tone.

They walked in silence for several steps before Reiji spoke again.

"Anyway," he said casually, "what are their names?"

Arata stopped walking.

He turned slowly to stare at him.

"You seriously don't know the names of your classmates?"

Reiji waved one hand dismissively.

"Details."

Arata looked like he might reconsider the entire arrangement.

"We've been in the same class for years," he said flatly.

Reiji simply resumed walking toward the Academy, guiding him along with the same easy grip over his shoulder.

"Yes," he replied mildly.

"Details."

---

They entered the classroom together, Reiji's arm still resting loosely across Arata's shoulders as if the two of them had been walking side by side for years. The gesture alone was enough to disrupt the usual low murmur of conversation that filled the room. Several students stopped mid-sentence. A few heads turned. Others simply stared, trying to reconcile the image in front of them with everything they thought they knew about the two boys.

Reiji noticed the shift immediately.

Across the room, Mikoto and Kushina reactions were almost identical—eyes wide, expressions hovering somewhere between disbelief and confusion. Reiji met their gaze easily and lifted his free hand in a casual wave.

Arata, on the other hand, pretended the entire classroom had ceased to exist.

His posture had the stiff resignation of someone being marched toward an unpleasant obligation. Reiji allowed himself the smallest hint of amusement at the thought as he steered them deeper into the room, guiding their path between rows of desks until they stopped in front of the two boys seated near the window.

"Hey," Arata said flatly. "Hizashi. Hiashi."

Both twins looked up.

Their movements were almost perfectly synchronized, the subtle turn of their heads revealing pale, pupil-less eyes that fixed first on Arata and then slowly shifted toward Reiji. The quiet attention felt strangely intense, like standing under a cold beam of light.

Reiji studied them carefully.

He had seen them countless times before—everyone in the Academy had—but this was the first time he had truly taken the opportunity to observe them up close. The resemblance between them was unsettling. Long dark hair fell down their backs, even longer than his own, framing pale faces that remained calm and unreadable. Their white eyes were the most striking feature. Completely colorless. Empty in a way that made it oddly difficult to hold their gaze for too long.

Only one detail broke the symmetry.

One of them wore bandages wrapped neatly across his forehead.

Reiji filed the observation away without comment.

Despite belonging to one of the most prominent clans in the village, the twins had always been quiet presences in the classroom. They spoke when necessary, answered questions when called upon, and otherwise remained within their own small orbit of conversation. They interacted occasionally with Arata and a few others, but rarely sought attention themselves. Watching them now, seated side by side with identical posture, Reiji was struck by the impression that they existed slightly outside the normal rhythm of the class.

Almost like observers rather than participants.

Arata had just begun explaining why they had come when another voice cut through the conversation.

"Arata… what exactly are you doing?"

Reiji turned his head.

A few desks away stood Enji, his expression openly suspicious. The Sarutobi boy had been watching them since they entered the room, and now he had stepped closer, arms loose at his sides but his posture rigid with barely concealed hostility.

"Mind your business," he said. "I'm talking to my friend."

Enji blinked slowly.

"Your friend?"

His gaze slid toward Reiji, lingering there with open disbelief.

"You're joking, right? Since when do you have friends?"

Reiji smiled faintly.

"I actually have quite a few."

Enji ignored him completely, focusing instead on Arata.

"Seriously," he said. "What are you doing? You can't honestly associate with this guy."

Reiji tilted his head slightly, studying the other boy with quiet curiosity.

"And why exactly does that concern you?"

Enji frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you," Reiji continued calmly, "his boss? The one who decides who he's allowed to talk to?"

He let his gaze drift slowly over Enji's posture, noting the tension in the boy's shoulders, the tightening of his jaw.

"Well… I suppose I can understand."

His smile sharpened just slightly.

"Considering who your father is."

The atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. Conversations in nearby desks quieted. A few students leaned back just enough to see what was happening without appearing too obvious about it.

Reiji watched Enji carefully.

"Do you think of everyone as your lackeys?" he continued. "Is that it? You believe you're superior to them?"

Enji's jaw tightened.

"Careful what you say."

Reiji shrugged.

"Or what?"

He took a single step closer, close enough that the space between them narrowed to little more than arm's length.

"You'll go tell your father?"

Enji's fists clenched.

"You want to fight?" Reiji asked lightly. "Go ahead."

For a brief moment it genuinely looked as though Enji might accept the invitation.

His fists remained clenched at his sides, the muscles in his forearms tightening as his weight shifted forward almost imperceptibly. Reiji noticed the movement immediately. It was the same subtle preparation he had seen countless times during training—someone standing on the edge of a strike, pride pushing them toward a decision they might regret.

The classroom had grown noticeably quieter.

Several nearby students had stopped pretending not to listen.

Reiji held Enji's gaze calmly, his posture relaxed, making no effort to move or defend himself. He simply watched, waiting to see whether the other boy would actually commit.

A few seconds passed.

Then the tension broke.

Enji exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration flashing across his face as the reality of the situation seemed to settle in. Starting a fight in the middle of the classroom—especially with half the class watching—would only make him look worse.

His jaw tightened.

He threw one last glare toward Reiji, then shifted his gaze briefly to Arata as well, the look sharp enough to promise that this conversation was not truly finished.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his steps stiff with restrained irritation as he returned toward the other side of the room.

Beside Reiji, Arata muttered under his breath.

"…Fantastic."

He dragged a hand down his face in exhausted disbelief.

"This day just keeps getting worse."

Reiji glanced briefly between the two twins before speaking again, his tone lowering slightly so the conversation remained contained between them.

"We should talk later," he said. "After class."

Both Hyūga boys blinked almost at the same time.

The request clearly confused them. Their pale eyes shifted toward Arata as if searching for confirmation that this situation made sense. The reaction was almost synchronized, their identical expressions reflecting the same silent question.

Arata noticed immediately.

He let out a tired sigh looking as though the entire morning had already drained what little patience he possessed.

"Yeah," he muttered. "It's… a thing."

The explanation was vague at best, but apparently sufficient.

Hiashi and Hizashi exchanged a brief glance before nodding.

"Very well," Hiashi said calmly.

"We will meet you later," Hizashi added.

Reiji gave a small nod in return, satisfied. Then he turned away and headed toward his seat as the quiet murmur of the classroom slowly resumed around them.

Reiji had barely settled onto the wooden bench when a voice rose behind him, casual but probing.

"So…"

He didn't turn immediately. The classroom still carried the quiet hum of students resuming their conversations after the brief tension from earlier..

"Did you and Arata make up?"

Only then did he shift his head slightly, glancing sideways.

Kushina was leaning over the back of the bench behind him. Her expression held the kind of eager curiosity that suggested she had been waiting for the moment to ask. Her eyes were bright, almost gleaming with interest.

Reiji studied her for a moment before responding.

"Make up?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "You two looked almost friendly when you came in."

Reiji tilted his head a fraction, considering the statement as if analyzing a strange claim.

"I was extorting him."

Kushina blinked.

"…Right."

She lingered there for a moment, clearly unsure how seriously to take the answer. Her fingers drummed lightly against the back of the bench as she shifted her weight, then her curiosity found a new direction.

"And what's Enji's problem with you?"

Reiji did not answer.

The silence stretched just long enough for Kushina to narrow her eyes.

"Seriously," she insisted. "That looked like a personal vendetta."

She tapped the edge of the desk impatiently, the faint tok tok tok of her fingers echoing softly against the wood.

"I mean, you're pretty despicable," she added bluntly.

Reiji slowly turned his head toward her.

She ignored the look entirely.

"But that alone doesn't explain it," she continued. "There has to be some history."

Her gaze sharpened with interest, the way someone might lean closer to inspect a puzzle.

"Come on," she pressed. "What happened?"

"Stop Kushina."

The interruption came quietly from beside her.

Mikoto sat with her hands folded neatly on her desk, her posture composed as always. Her dark eyes flicked briefly toward Reiji before returning to Kushina.

"That's not something we should meddle in."

Kushina frowned.

"Why? Does it have something to do with—"

She stopped abruptly.

Her eyes shifted toward Reiji.

He sat there with the same calm, unreadable expression he always wore, his posture relaxed but his gaze steady. There was nothing overtly threatening in his demeanor, yet the stillness around him seemed to discourage further speculation.

The moment stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable.

"…Sorry," Kushina muttered awkwardly.

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you apologizing?"

Instead of looking at her, his attention drifted across the classroom.

Near the far side of the room, Enji Sarutobi stood speaking with Minato Namikaze. The two boys appeared perfectly relaxed, their conversation easy, even friendly. Minato nodded occasionally while Enji spoke, the exchange so ordinary that it almost felt absurd considering the tension from only minutes earlier.

Reiji watched them for a moment.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Then he leaned back in his seat, the wooden chair creaking faintly under the shift of his weight.

"He doesn't like my face."

Kushina frowned.

"That's it?"

Reiji shrugged lazily, as though the matter held no real importance.

"I don't like his either."

---

The four of them gathered in one of the quieter corners of the Academy courtyard, far enough from the other students that the usual noise of conversation blurred into an indistinct murmur.

Reiji stood with his back to the trunk of the tree, arms loosely folded while he explained his situation in detail. He spoke calmly, outlining the issue with his chakra control and the reason he believed the Hyūga's eyes might be able to reveal something he could not observe himself. As he spoke, he watched the twins carefully. Their pale, pupil-less eyes remained fixed on him without interruption, their attention steady and almost unsettling in its intensity. They listened without shifting posture, without exchanging glances, absorbing every word with the same composure they always carried in class.

Nearby, Arata stood slightly apart from the group with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He leaned back on one heel as if trying to distance himself from the entire situation while still remaining part of it. His expression suggested a mixture of lingering irritation and reluctant curiosity, though he made no attempt to interrupt Reiji's explanation.

When Reiji finished, the silence that followed lingered long enough for the faint wind to stir the leaves above them. For a moment the only sound came from students shouting somewhere across the courtyard.

Finally, Hiashi spoke.

"We will help you."

Reiji's attention shifted to him immediately. The response had come more quickly than he expected.

Beside him, Hizashi turned his head toward his brother with clear surprise.

"Brother… are you sure?"

His pale eyes moved back toward Reiji, studying him with a cautious intensity that suggested he was still weighing the situation.

Hiashi remained calm, his posture unchanged.

"I would make a poor classmate if I refused."

He regarded Reiji thoughtfully, the white eyes of the Byakugan giving nothing away.

"We have no personal grievance against you."

Reiji said nothing. He simply waited.

"So why not help?" Hiashi continued after a brief pause.

Then his expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious.

"But there are conditions."

Hiashi nodded once, as though acknowledging the point.

"We cannot use the Byakugan outside the clan grounds."

Hizashi added quietly, "It is a strict rule."

The words were delivered without apology, merely stating the reality of the situation.

"If we are to help you," Hiashi continued, "we must first ask permission from the clan."

Reiji considered that for a moment, shifting his weight slightly against the tree trunk. The bark pressed faintly through the fabric of his shirt as he nodded.

"That makes sense."

Hiashi continued in the same calm tone.

"And it is possible the elders could assist you better than we could."

He glanced briefly toward his brother.

"We are still learning ourselves."

Hiashi's gaze returned to Reiji.

"And besides…"

For a brief moment his eyes flicked toward Arata.

"You forgave him for what happened in the forest."

Arata shifted awkwardly at that, his posture tightening slightly.

Hiashi looked back at Reiji.

"You cannot be entirely unreasonable."

Reiji held his gaze for a moment, studying the boy the same way he would examine a new opponent during training.

Then he gave a small shrug.

"I try not to be. But anyway thanks."

For a few seconds the conversation seemed finished, but Reiji remained thoughtful. Something about the exchange stirred realization in the back of his mind. He tilted his head slightly as the idea settled.

"There's just one thing."

Both twins looked at him.

Reiji studied their identical features once more before speaking.

"Are you, by any chance, the sons of the clan head?"

The twins blinked almost in unison.

"Yes," Hiashi answered after a moment. "Why?"

Reiji stared at them for a few seconds, the pattern finally clicking together in his mind.

"Huh."

He rubbed the back of his head slowly.

"I'm beginning to see a pattern here."

---

Arata slowed as they approached the outer streets of the Hyūga district. The houses here grew quieter, the paths wider and cleaner, and the casual noise of the village seemed to fade as if the neighborhood itself discouraged unnecessary disturbance. A few more steps and the high walls of the compound would already be visible above the rooftops.

Then Arata stopped.

"I'm not coming any further," he said.

Reiji turned his head slightly, studying him. Arata avoided his gaze, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket as if the explanation itself irritated him.

"The Hyūga and the Uchiha aren't exactly… welcome in each other's compounds," he muttered after a moment.

His shoulders lifted in a small shrug.

"I'd just make things awkward."

Reiji watched him for a few seconds. The explanation made sense; clan pride ran deep in Konoha, and the relationship between the two dōjutsu clans had always been complicated. Bringing an Uchiha directly to the gates of the Hyūga compound would probably attract attention that neither side wanted.

He nodded once.

"Fair enough."

Arata seemed relieved the conversation ended there. Without another word he turned and headed back toward the busier streets of the village, his footsteps fading quickly into the midday bustle.

Reiji watched him go for a moment before turning back toward the compound.

The Hyūga district stood apart from the rest of Konoha.

Even before reaching the gate, the difference was obvious. The streets were quieter, the houses arranged with a careful symmetry that suggested long tradition and strict order. The compound walls rose high above the surrounding buildings, smooth pale stone that caught the sunlight in muted reflections. Large wooden gates stood at the entrance, reinforced with dark iron fittings that looked old enough to have seen several generations pass through them.

Everything about the place felt restrained.

Hiashi and Hizashi led him the final few steps to the gate. Just before reaching it, both twins stopped.

Hiashi turned toward him.

"Wait here."

Reiji gave a small nod. He had expected something like that.

The twins stepped through the gate without hesitation. The heavy wooden doors closed behind them with a dull, final sound, leaving Reiji standing alone in the quiet street outside.

Time moved slowly after that.

Reiji remained near the gate, leaning lightly against the stone wall while the distant sounds of the village drifted through the air.

He shifted his weight slightly, letting his shoulder rest against the wall.

From this position he could see little of the compound beyond the gates. Only the upper roofs of the buildings rose above the walls, their dark tiles forming clean lines against the bright sky.

A clan that guarded its privacy carefully.

Reiji folded his arms and waited.

Eventually the gates opened again.

The heavy doors moved with a slow groan of wood against metal hinges. Hiashi and Hizashi stepped out first.

They were not alone.

An older man walked behind them.

Reiji straightened slightly, studying him the moment he appeared.

The man's posture was rigid, every movement controlled with the quiet discipline of someone used to authority. His hair had begun to gray at the temples, though his body still carried the lean strength of an experienced shinobi. But it was the eyes that drew immediate attention.

Pale.

Featureless.

The same empty white of the Byakugan.

They settled on Reiji the instant he came into view.

The scrutiny was immediate and unblinking.

Cold.

Reiji understood what he was looking at before a word was spoken.

A clan elder.

The man stopped several steps away from him, placing himself naturally between Reiji and the compound gates. Hiashi and Hizashi remained slightly behind him, silent.

"We have been informed of your request."

The elder's voice was calm, controlled, carrying none of the hostility Reiji had half expected. It sounded more like someone delivering a routine judgment than addressing a stranger standing at the gates of his clan.

Reiji said nothing. He simply held the man's gaze.

"The Byakugan," the elder continued, "is a secret of the Hyūga clan."

A brief pause followed, just long enough for the words to settle.

"It will not be used for the benefit of outsiders."

The statement carried no emotion. It was delivered with the quiet certainty of a rule that had existed long before either of them were born.

Reiji remained still.

He had expected refusal.

Still, hearing it spoken so plainly left little room for argument.

Then the elder's gaze sharpened slightly.

"Furthermore," he continued calmly, "even if you were not an outsider, the Hyūga clan does not involve itself in matters surrounding… individuals whose standing within the village is already questionable."

His eyes flicked briefly toward the twins standing behind him.

"You will cease your interactions with Hiashi and Hizashi."

The implication was unmistakable.

The silence that followed seemed heavier than before. Even the faint noises of the street beyond the compound walls felt distant.

Reiji studied the elder for a moment, measuring the tone, the posture, the finality in his voice. The decision had already been made long before he arrived.

Arguing would change nothing.

So he simply nodded once.

"Understood."

No protest.

No anger.

Just acknowledgment.

Then he turned and began walking away from the compound.

Behind him, the heavy gates of the Hyūga estate closed again with a deep wooden thud, sealing the quiet courtyard and the watching eyes behind them.

---

Reiji walked slowly down the street, his pace unhurried as he moved away from the Hyūga compound. The tall walls disappeared behind him one step at a time, the pale stone gradually giving way to the quieter residential roads that surrounded the district.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation at the gate.

'What exactly was I expecting?'

The answer came to him immediately.

Nothing.

From the beginning he had known the chances were small. The Hyūga were one of the oldest clans in Konoha, a family built on tradition, discipline, and an almost obsessive protection of their secrets. Their dōjutsu was not something they shared lightly, and certainly not with someone standing outside their walls asking for help.

Helping him had never made much sense.

Reiji exhaled quietly through his nose, the breath leaving his chest in a slow, steady stream.

Still.

He shifted his gaze toward the street ahead, watching the sunlight stretch across the road in pale strips between the buildings.

People really did enjoy deciding who someone was before that person had the chance to do anything at all.

His father's reputation.

His origins.

The whispers that followed him through the village like an echo he could never quite outrun.

Everywhere he went, it seemed to arrive before him.

Reiji stepped over a shallow rut in the road, adjusting his balance automatically as his weight shifted forward.

It was always the same.

Different faces, different voices—but the judgment remained identical.

Some things, apparently, never changed.

---











"Himuro Reiji."

The voice reached him just as he turned onto the road that led toward the Academy.

Reiji slowed instinctively, his sandals scraping lightly against the packed dirt as he came to a stop. The street was still quiet at that hour of the morning

He turned.

At first his eyes registered the pale color.

Then the rest followed.

Long dark hair, neatly tied back. A calm, composed posture. And the bandages wrapped carefully around a forehead.

Reiji blinked in surprise.

"You?"

Hizashi Hyūga stood a few paces away in the middle of the road, perfectly still. The morning light caught faintly against his pale eyes, making them appear almost reflective.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Then Hizashi spoke.

"I will help you."

The words landed with such quiet certainty that Reiji needed a moment to process them.

"…What?"

Hizashi did not shift his stance or repeat himself with irritation. His expression remained composed, almost serene.

"I said I will help you."

Reiji studied him carefully now, narrowing his eyes slightly as he took a few steps closer.

"Why?"

Hizashi tilted his head very slightly, as if the answer were obvious.

"Because I want to."

"No," Reiji replied immediately.

He stopped a short distance away, folding his arms across his chest as he looked the Hyūga heir over more carefully.

"That's not a reason."

His gaze sharpened as he continued studying the other boy's face, searching for hesitation, uncertainty—anything that might reveal a hidden motive.

"There is no reason for you to risk helping me," Reiji said. "Your clan already refused. If they find out you're ignoring that decision, you'll be punished."

Hizashi did not react.

His pale eyes remained fixed calmly on Reiji.

The silence stretched for several seconds.

Reiji exhaled slowly through his nose and shifted his weight slightly, the heel of his sandal grinding faintly into the dirt.

"So why?"

This time Hizashi answered after a moment.

"If they had refused you because of who you are," he said quietly, "I would have understood."

Reiji said nothing, but his attention sharpened.

"There are many reasons the clan could have chosen to refuse you," Hizashi continued in the same calm tone. "And I would have accepted them."

His gaze did not waver.

"But that is not why they refused."

Reiji watched him closely now.

"They refused because of what you represent."

A faint crease appeared between Reiji's brows.

"You don't even know me," he said.

"Exactly."

Reiji blinked.

"Huh?"

Hizashi continued, his voice still steady and unhurried.

"They judged you not for who you are," he said, "but for where you come from."

A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the distant murmur of voices further down the street.

Hizashi's expression did not change, but something in his tone shifted slightly as he continued.

"Deciding the fate of someone the moment they are born…"

He paused.

"…is cruel."

The word hung in the air.

Reiji felt something stir unexpectedly in his chest—an unfamiliar sensation he couldn't quite name. It wasn't anger, and it wasn't amusement either. Something quieter than that.

For several seconds he simply stared at the Hyūga boy.

"So," Hizashi concluded, as if the matter were entirely straightforward, "I will help you."

Reiji remained silent for a moment longer before finally rubbing the back of his head with a faintly awkward motion.

The gesture felt strangely unfamiliar.

"Your name…" he said slowly. "It's Hizashi, right?"

Hizashi nodded once.

"…Right."

Reiji let out a quiet breath.

"Thank you, Hizashi."

For the first time since the conversation had begun, something softened slightly in the Hyūga heir's expression.

A small smile appeared.

"You're welcome."


***

A/N : I've been enjoying writing these more character-focused chapters and letting things unfold naturally.

I know there hasn't been a lot of fighting recently, but I'd love to hear your thoughts, do you prefer the fights, or the character interactions?
Thanks for reading and see you soon!

Also like always I just released the chapter 19 on my Patreon if you want to read in advance

 

[TheSoulFrost]

The training field behind the Academy had grown quiet by the time most of the students drifted back toward the village. The usual noise of children arguing, laughing, or throwing kunai had faded, leaving only the soft murmur of wind moving through the surrounding trees. Branches swayed gently overhead, and the breeze carried thin spirals of dust across the packed earth. The grass beneath Reiji's sandals was worn and uneven from years of sparring drills, patches of dirt exposed where countless feet had dug into the ground during practice.

He stood several paces away from Hizashi, arms loosely folded, watching the Hyūga boy with patient curiosity.

Hizashi had activated his Byakugan.

The change was subtle but unmistakable. Thin veins had risen around the pale edges of his eyes, spreading outward like faint cracks in porcelain. His gaze sharpened into something unnervingly focused. He was no longer simply looking at Reiji, but through him, tracing the hidden network of chakra coils and pathways that ran beneath skin and muscle.

For several seconds neither of them spoke.

Reiji shifted his weight slightly, one sandal grinding softly against the dirt as he adjusted his stance. The quiet stretched long enough that the rustle of leaves overhead became strangely loud.

Finally Hizashi spoke.

"…Your chakra reserves are large."

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"How large?"

Hiashi didn't answer immediately. His pale eyes continued following the currents of chakra circulating through Reiji's body, examining each pathway as though mapping unfamiliar terrain.

"Larger than most people our age," he said at last.

His gaze narrowed slightly as he focused deeper.

"Your chakra coils are also… well developed."

Reiji tilted his head.

"It's good no?"

Hizashi nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Reiji absorbed the comment without reacting outwardly, though the information settled somewhere in the back of his mind. Large reserves were useful, but that had never been the problem. For weeks he had been trying to solve something else entirely.

Hizashi's expression changed a moment later.

A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"But your chakra…"

Reiji straightened slightly.

"What about it?"

Hizashi leaned forward a fraction, concentrating more intensely as his gaze followed the movement of chakra through Reiji's coils.

"…It is strange."

Reiji crossed his arms.

"Strange how?"

Hizashi didn't respond right away. His eyes tracked the flow carefully, as if trying to reconcile what he was seeing with something that didn't quite fit.

"It feels… heavier," he said finally.

Reiji frowned slightly.

"Heavier?"

"Yes."

Hizashi's voice remained calm, though his attention did not waver.

"Denser, perhaps."

The explanation was vague, but the uncertainty in his tone suggested he was still trying to understand the observation himself.

Reiji let the comment pass. After a moment he lowered his arms.

"Watch this."

He inhaled slowly and gathered chakra.

The familiar sensation spread through his coils as the energy circulated naturally through his body, rising from his core and flowing along the pathways his father had taught him to control. Reiji focused, forcing the chakra to shift.

Wind.

The transformation came with the usual subtle resistance, like trying to twist something that didn't quite want to move.

Hizashi's eyes sharpened instantly.

Reiji guided the wind-nature chakra down his arm, directing it toward the tenketsu in his palm.

The chakra moved.

Then it slowed.

Then it stopped.

Hizashi leaned forward slightly.

"…There."

Reiji glanced at him.

"What?"

Hizashi didn't look away from the flow.

"When your chakra is neutral," he said slowly, "it moves normally."

Reiji pushed harder, attempting to force the wind chakra outward through the tenketsu.

The energy pressed forward.

Then stalled.

Like water slamming against a sealed gate.

Pressure built inside the pathway, the chakra refusing to pass no matter how carefully he adjusted the flow.

Hizashi spoke quietly.

"But the moment you change its nature…"

Reiji tried again.

The result was identical.

The chakra reached the tenketsu—

And stopped.

Hizashi frowned slightly.

"…It does not go through."

Reiji's brow furrowed as he released the technique and allowed the chakra to disperse.

"Why?"

Hizashi hesitated.

"…I don't know."

After a moment he deactivated the Byakugan, the veins around his eyes fading as the strange intensity left his gaze.

"But it is consistent," he added calmly.

Reiji remained silent.

Hizashi continued.

"It is like trying to force the wrong key into a lock."

The comparison lingered in the quiet clearing.

Reiji lowered his gaze to his hand.

Wrong key.

The words echoed in his mind as the pieces began rearranging themselves.

Wind had failed.

He had not even attempted water transformation yet, but suddenly the outcome felt obvious.

Fragments of his father's lessons surfaced in his memory.

Two natures.
One element.
Bloodline.

The realization formed almost instantly.

Reiji exhaled slowly.

Of course.

His fingers curled slightly as the conclusion settled into place with uncomfortable clarity.

A Kekkei Genkai normally did not prevent someone from using the base elements separately. In fact, most bloodline techniques were built on top of them.

Shinobi with Lava Release could still manipulate fire and earth individually. Those with Storm Release could use lightning and water without difficulty. The combined element was simply the product of merging those two natures together through a specific chakra pattern.

Which meant there had never been any reason for him to suspect the bloodline itself.

If anything, the opposite should have been true.

Possessing a Kekkei Genkai should have made learning the base elements easier, not impossible.

Every failure had pointed toward a much simpler explanation.

Bad control.
Poor execution.
A flaw in his own training.

So he had pushed harder, repeating the same exercises again and again, convinced the fault lay with him.

Now, replaying the image of his chakra stalling at the tenketsu, the pattern became obvious.

It had never been a matter of control.

His body simply refused to release the elements separately.

If his suspicion was correct, then only one path would function properly.

Hyōton.

The answer settled into place with quiet certainty.

For weeks he had been circling the problem blindly, forcing himself through exercises that had led nowhere. Now the shape of it stood plainly in front of him.

But he said nothing.

Hizashi watched him for a moment.

"…Do you understand?" he asked.

Reiji nodded once.

"Yes."

His voice had returned to its usual calm.

"My problem isn't chakra control."

Hizashi tilted his head slightly.

"No," he agreed.

"It is something else."

Reiji rubbed his temple briefly, letting the last pieces of the puzzle settle into place.

"…I need to tell my father."

Hiashi studied him for a moment before giving a small nod.

"That would be wise."

Reiji's attention drifted inward again.

Most shinobi could learn several elemental affinities with enough training—water, wind, earth, fire, lightning. But mastering multiple elements was not the same as merging them together. That ability existed only within certain bloodlines.

Take Mokuton.

Some shinobi possessed both water and earth affinity. With enough discipline they might master both elements separately.

But that alone would never allow them to create Wood Release.

That power belonged to a bloodline.

And apparently—

So did his problem.

Reiji stared down at the ground, the dust shifting beneath the tip of his sandal.

Why me?

The thought surfaced before he could stop it.

Why the hell did he have a defective Kekkei Genkai?

He had not even tested his other affinity yet, but the conclusion already felt inevitable. If his theory was correct, then the issue was not poor control or insufficient training.

His own chakra system was rejecting the elements themselves.

Only his Kekkei Genkai would function properly.

Reiji let out a quiet breath.

The air leaving his lungs felt strangely cool against his lips.

Well.

At least now he understood.

Which meant he could stop wasting time trying to solve the problem alone.

He had avoided telling his father about the issue until now, partly out of stubbornness and partly because admitting he could not master basic nature transformation felt too much like failure.

But if the limitation was structural—if it was something his body itself imposed—then hiding it served no purpose.

If he wanted a solution, he would have to involve his father.

They would find another way.

'Father must have noticed something was wrong.'

The thought lingered briefly.

If he had, he had chosen not to say anything.

That realization did not bother him as much as it might have before.

They would work around the limitation.

Reiji was not discouraged.

Not even slightly.

He knew what he was.

Talented.

Exceptional.

Better than most people around him.

A stubborn body or a capricious Kekkei Genkai would not stop him.

He looked back at Hizashi.

"So."

A faint smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Are you satisfied?"

Reiji considered the question before answering.

"…Yes."

His expression grew more serious.

"My thoughts were a mess before."

He exhaled slowly.

"Now my head is clear."

He inclined his head slightly in a rare gesture of sincerity.

"Thank you."

Hizashi nodded once, but the brief calm that had settled over him after the examination did not last. His expression tightened again, not outwardly enough for most people to notice, yet enough for Reiji to catch the shift.

"You will not speak of this to anyone," Hizashi said.

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm stupid?"

Hizashi ignored the comment with the same irritating composure he seemed to wear like a second skin. His pale eyes remained fixed somewhere slightly past Reiji's shoulder, as if meeting his gaze directly would only complicate what he was trying to say.

"My clan already suspects something," he said. "If they learn I helped you…"

He let the sentence die there.

He didn't need to finish it. Reiji understood enough from the way his jaw had set, from the careful control in his voice, from the fact that he was speaking about his own family the way other people spoke about traps in the forest.

Reiji gave a small nod.

"Don't worry," he said. "I owe you now."

Hizashi shook his head immediately, more sharply than before.

"Forget it."

Reiji blinked.

"…What?"

Hiashi looked away slightly, the movement so small it would have been easy to miss if Reiji had not already been watching him carefully.

"You can repay me," Hizashi said, "by ignoring me and my brother."

For a second Reiji simply stared at him. The request was so blunt, so devoid of politeness or pretense, that it almost circled back into something honest. A dry little laugh almost escaped him, but he held it back.

"I already disobeyed my clan once," Hiashi continued in the same even tone. "I will not dig my own grave further."

Reiji's gaze drifted briefly past him, beyond the Academy grounds and toward the distant direction of the Hyūga compound. He could not see it from here, only imagine high walls, neat courtyards, polished halls, rules layered over rules until a child had to weigh every word before he spoke it.

"They seem strict," Reiji said.

Hizashi did not respond.

Reiji tilted his head slightly.

"What is it like to live there?"

Hizashi looked at him for several long seconds.

"It is…" Hizashi began, then paused.

When he finally answered, the word came out measured, almost selected rather than spoken.

"…Peaceful."

Reiji watched him.

Hizashi's face remained composed, as unreadable as ever, but for the briefest instant something in his eyes had changed. Not fear. Not anger. Just a weariness that should not have belonged to a child their age.

Reiji filed that away and said nothing.

"Anyway," he said, as casually as if he were proposing another walk back to class, "wanna fight ?"

Hizashi blinked.

"…Huh?"

Reiji shrugged one shoulder.

"Come on. I know you want to."

The reaction was immediate. Hizashi stared at him as if the suggestion had arrived from some entirely unrelated conversation.

"We already have sparring lessons at the Academy," he said. "What would be the point of this?"

Reiji waved the objection away with lazy impatience.

"Yeah, but you never fight using your Byakugan."

Hizashi's expression tightened at once.

"I cannot," he said. "It is forbidden."

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"You've already disobeyed them once today."

That landed. Not hard, but enough. Hizashi's pale eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him, and Reiji could almost feel the boy reassessing the ground beneath the conversation, looking for where exactly it had begun tilting against him.

"…Why do you suddenly want to fight me?"

A slow grin spread across Reiji's face.

"I recently sparred with Arata and his brother," he said. "I saw the Sharingan in action."

He tilted his head a little more, letting the curiosity show because this time it was genuine.

"Now I'm curious about your eyes too."

That was the plain truth of it. The Hyūga childrens were forbidden from using the Byakugan freely outside their compound. Under normal circumstances, getting one of them to test himself honestly against an opponent would be nearly impossible. But now Hizashi stood in front of him, the dōjutsu still fresh in Reiji's mind, the possibility of it too close to ignore. He wanted to know how those pale eyes changed movement, timing, distance. He wanted to feel the difference with his own body.

Hizashi hesitated.

"I really don't know…"

Reiji watched him for a moment, then chuckled softly.

"Come on," he said. "I know that look."

Hizashi frowned.

"What look?"

Reiji smirked.

"The look of someone staring at someone weaker."

Hizashi's posture stiffened.

"I am not—"

Reiji raised a hand lazily to cut him off.

"It's fine. I'd be a hypocrite if I got mad at you for that." His mouth twitched faintly. "It's normal to think you're superior when you're born with something like the Byakugan."

Hizashi did not answer. He didn't need to. Reiji had seen enough tiny reactions by then—the way his shoulders had gone tighter, the fraction of stillness before he spoke, the control that appeared most when something actually bothered him. Pride. There it was.

"But aren't you curious?" he asked, lowering his voice just a touch. "I beat Arata while he was using his Sharingan."

He watched Hizashi carefully as he said it.

"Don't you want to know if you're actually stronger than that?"

Hizashi rolled his eyes, though not quite dismissively enough to hide that he had taken the bait.

"Arata only awakened his eyes recently," he said calmly. "From what I've heard, mine have been active for years."

His gaze hardened, subtle but unmistakable.

"We are not the same."

Reiji's grin widened.

"Well," he said, spreading his hands slightly, "we can find out right now."

He tilted his head again, just enough to make the next line more irritating.

"Or are you afraid of losing?"

Hizashi stared at him.

Reiji kept going, his tone easy, almost conversational, which only made the pressure worse.

"If you beat me, that proves your eyes are better than the Sharingan."

He paused, then added with deliberate carelessness,

"And it must have been frustrating, right?"

Hizashi's expression remained controlled, but Reiji caught the faint tightening of his jaw.

"To watch someone like me beat you and your brother during sparring."

Reiji shrugged.

"You were probably thinking the same thing." His eyes stayed on Hizashi's face. " 'If I had used my eyes, I could beat him.' "

"Right ?"

Silence followed.

The wind moved through the clearing again, louder this time, bending the tall grass around the edges of the field and making the trees creak softly overhead. Reiji said nothing more for a few seconds. He simply watched. That was often the useful part—after the words were thrown, after pride had been touched, after irritation had been given time to settle into something harder.

Then he spoke again, quieter now.

"So now that you have the opportunity…"

He spread his arms slightly.

"You're really going to refuse?"

Hizashi still said nothing.

Reiji let the silence hang for one more beat.

"To let loose for once?"

That did it.

Hizashi stood there for several seconds, outwardly calm, but the decision was already visible in the set of his shoulders and the stillness that came over him right before he moved. Then he let out a slow breath.

"…Fine."

He turned without another word and began walking toward the edge of the training field,

"Where are we going?"

Reiji smirked.

'Easy.'

****
A/N :
A bit of a setup chapter this time… yeah, I'm evil like that.

Things will start moving soon though.

I probably won't be able to post again until the end of the week — classes and exams are catching up to me.

As always, thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave a comment, I always like seeing your thoughts.

Chapter 20 is already up on my Patreon.

See you soon !

 

[TheSoulFrost]

They agreed to meet after class at one of the training grounds near the edge of the forest. The clearing was far enough from the Academy that few students bothered to use it at that hour.

It was quiet. Just the faint rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the village carried on the wind.

Reiji had arrived first.

He stood near one of the old wooden training posts, idly scraping the dirt with the tip of his sandal while he waited. A few moments later, footsteps approached along the narrow path that led through the trees.

Hizashi emerged from the forest.

Reiji straightened slightly, glancing at the position of the sun before looking back at him.

"You're late," he said.

Hizashi stepped into the clearing, his expression as calm and composed as ever.

"Finding an excuse that wouldn't make Hiashi suspicious was difficult."

Reiji snorted softly.

"You two really are joined at the hip, huh?"

Hizashi looked mildly confused for a moment before answering with complete seriousness.

"He is my twin."

The tone suggested that this alone explained everything.

Reiji stared at him for a second, then shrugged.

"Fair enough."

He pushed himself away from the training post and stepped closer.

"So," he continued casually, "what did you tell him?"

Hizashi's expression barely changed.

"Nothing important."

The answer came with a dismissive calm that suggested the subject wasn't worth discussing.

"He is probably suspicious already."

Reiji raised an eyebrow.

"Really? And you're fine with that?"

Hizashi's pale eyes settled on him.

"Why do you suddenly care?" he asked. "You are the one who manipulated me into coming here."

Reiji tilted his head slightly.

"Manipulated is a strong word."

He spread his hands lightly.

"Even if that were true, you still chose to come."

His gaze sharpened slightly as he studied Hizashi.

"So why?"

For a brief moment the Hyūga boy said nothing.

Then he answered quietly.

"You were right."

Reiji blinked.

Hizashi's pale eyes remained steady.

"It is time someone puts you in your place."

Reiji observed him carefully.

Hizashi's face was usually almost expressionless, calm to the point of being unreadable. But now something subtle had changed. The stillness in his posture wasn't the passive calm Reiji had seen before.

There was tension beneath it.

Determination.

And something else.

Excitement.

Realization spread slowly across Reiji's face.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You just want to let loose."

Hizashi did not deny it.

After a brief pause he said quietly,

"It is better to ask forgiveness later."

Reiji's grin widened.

"Now we're talking."

Reiji stepped into the open space of the clearing and rolled his shoulders once, feeling the lingering stiffness from earlier training loosen along his back.

Several paces away, Hizashi waited.

The Hyūga stood with quiet balance, his posture relaxed in a way that immediately drew attention to how controlled it was. One palm rested forward at chest level while the other hovered near his ribs, fingers loose, ready to move in any direction. His feet were angled outward slightly, weight resting lightly on the balls of his sandals so that his center of gravity remained mobile.

The Byakugan was already active.

Fine veins spread outward from the corners of Hiashi's pale eyes, and his gaze rested on Reiji with unsettling precision.

Reiji noticed immediately.

The realization sharpened his focus. The Hyūga's attention wasn't tracking his face, or even his posture. Hizashi's eyes were following something beneath the surface—something inside his body.

Before either of them moved, the Hyūga boy spoke.

"Just to be sure," Hiashi said calmly, "only taijutsu. That's what you said, right?"

Reiji nodded once.

"Yeah. Only taijutsu."

His eyes studied Hizashi's stance for another moment.

"The Hyūga are supposed to be monsters in close combat. I want to see why."

Hizashi regarded him quietly.

"Very well."

A brief pause followed.

"But do not blame me for what happens next."

Reiji's mouth twitched faintly.

"Fair warning."

Reiji didn't bother raising a formal guard.

Instead he allowed his arms to hang loosely at his sides, shifting his weight slightly forward as he studied the Hyūga's stance. His feet adjusted subtly against the grass, testing the traction of the ground while he measured the distance between them.

Curiosity stirred quietly in the back of his mind.

'Let's see what those eyes actually do in a fight.'

Hizashi moved first.

The distance between them vanished in a single smooth step.

His lead foot slid forward over the grass with barely a sound, hips following immediately behind it as his body aligned through the strike. His palm shot forward toward Reiji's shoulder, the motion direct and precise.

Reiji pivoted sideways the moment the strike entered range.

His forearm rose instinctively to intercept while his hips twisted through the movement, redirecting the incoming force away from his body rather than stopping it outright. The contact was controlled—almost soft—nothing like the blunt shock of a normal punch.

He countered immediately.

His right shoulder rotated through the motion, driving a sharp cross toward Hiashi's ribs.

Hizashi shifted with precise economy.

His torso turned just enough for the punch to skim past his body, the movement so efficient that Reiji barely felt resistance before his fist passed through empty air.

Reiji pressed forward before the Hyūga could reset.

His left hand snapped out in a quick jab aimed at Hizashi's face, testing the reaction. The moment the jab retracted, his right shoulder rolled again into a tight hook toward the jaw while his rear leg whipped low toward Hizashi's knee in a sweeping kick meant to disrupt the stance supporting him.

Three attacks.

Three angles.

Hizashi's hands moved like flowing water.

One palm brushed the jab aside with a subtle deflection that barely altered its path.

The hook passed through the space where his head had been a fraction of a second earlier.

The sweeping kick never reached its target.

Hizashi stepped forward.

Not backward.

Inside the arc of the attack.

The timing was effortless.

Before Reiji could fully retract his arm, Hizashi's palm touched his upper arm.

The contact felt almost gentle.

Then the sensation arrived.

A violent pulse exploded through the limb.

Reiji felt it deep beneath the muscles, somewhere inside the pathways carrying chakra through the arm. It was as if something had struck directly against the channels themselves.

The strength vanished instantly.

His arm didn't drop entirely, but the power inside it collapsed all at once. His fingers twitched weakly as the limb refused to respond properly, the muscles suddenly disconnected from the signals that normally controlled them.

Pain followed a heartbeat later—sharp and invasive, spreading through the limb like needles sliding beneath the skin.

Reiji blinked once.

'Well…'

'That's new.'

Even as the sensation spread through the limb, his mind had already begun dissecting what had happened. The strike hadn't been random. Hizashi's palm had landed at a precise point just above the biceps, exactly where several chakra pathways converged before flowing toward the shoulder.

Hizashi didn't give him time to think about it.

His palms moved again in tight arcs as he pressed forward, every step measured and balanced. The movement was fluid, economical—no wasted motion anywhere in the exchange.

One strike slipped through the space between them and tapped lightly against Reiji's ribs.

The impact barely carried force, yet the effect was immediate.

A wave of pressure burst inward from the point of contact, deeper than any ordinary strike could reach. Reiji felt the chakra circulating through his core stutter violently as the Hyūga's strike disrupted another convergence point in the network feeding the diaphragm and lungs.

For a brief moment his breath caught.

'If that lands deeper…'

'That could be bad.'

Another palm brushed across his shoulder a moment later.

The same pulse followed, sharp and invasive, pain spreading down the arm as the disrupted pathways sent erratic signals through the limb.

It still moved.

Barely.

But the control was fading.

Reiji stepped back half a pace, his sandal scraping through the packed dirt as he shifted his balance. His injured arm hung awkwardly at his side, fingers twitching faintly as sensation flickered through the limb.

Hizashi advanced again, pale eyes fixed on him with that unnerving stillness.

Reiji adjusted immediately.

If the arm wasn't working properly, it still had weight.

It could still get in the way.

He lifted the weakened limb just as the next strike came.

Hizashi's palm struck the arm instead of Reiji's torso. Pain flared through the damaged pathways, another spike of chakra disruption rippling through the limb—but the blow didn't reach his ribs.

Good.

Keep it off the torso.

Reiji stepped through the opening the moment it appeared.

His remaining fist drove forward in a straight punch, shoulder rotating through the motion as his hips followed behind it.

The blow landed clean.

Knuckles slammed into Hizashi's jaw with a solid thud that forced the Hyūga boy back half a step, the impact echoing dull against bone and muscle.

For the briefest moment the opening widened.

Hizashi's pale eyes sharpened.

His hand shot forward.

Two fingers struck the inside of Reiji's elbow with surgical precision.

Pain lanced up the arm instantly.

The chakra in the limb collapsed completely.

This time there was no resistance left at all. The arm dropped uselessly to his side, fingers curling weakly as the disrupted pathways refused to respond.

Reiji exhaled slowly through his nose.

'Ah.'

'That's worse.'

Both arms now hung partially useless—one barely responsive, the other completely numb.

Hizashi stepped forward to finish the exchange.

Reiji moved first.

He dropped his weight suddenly and twisted through his hips. His body spun low across the grass, one leg sweeping outward in a wide arc toward Hiashi's ankles.

The Hyūga hopped backward, sandals brushing through the grass as he cleared the sweep.

Reiji continued the rotation, letting the momentum carry him back upright.

His arms hung uselessly.

But his legs still worked.

Hizashi approached again with the same measured calm, palms raised and ready.

Reiji shifted his stance.

Without his arms to balance himself, he relied entirely on his core and footwork. His feet slid across the grass in slow circular steps, hips turning fluidly with each movement as he adjusted to the strange imbalance in his body.

A spinning kick snapped upward toward Hizashi's ribs.

Hizashi intercepted the strike with his forearm, but the force still drove him a half step back as the impact traveled through his guard.

Reiji kept moving.

The rotation carried him through another turn, his heel whipping upward toward Hizashi's head in a sharp rising arc.

Hizashi ducked beneath it.

His palms flashed forward.

Two quick taps struck the muscles of Reiji's thigh.

The sensation was immediate.

Pain spiked through the leg as the chakra pathways there jolted violently out of alignment.

His balance faltered.

The leg still held him upright—but the strength inside it was bleeding away, the muscles responding sluggishly as the disrupted chakra circulation failed to support them.

Reiji felt it clearly.

That one's going to give out soon.

He exhaled slowly.

The fight had become a race now.

His body was failing piece by piece.

He needed one opening.

Hizashi stepped forward again.

Reiji staggered deliberately.

His balance shifted unevenly, the damaged leg dragging slightly through the grass as though the limb had finally betrayed him. His shoulders tilted just enough to sell the movement.

Hizashi closed the distance.

That was the moment.

Reiji's remaining leg snapped forward with sudden force.

His heel drove straight into Hizashi's chest.

The impact landed solidly.

Air burst from Hizashi's lungs as he stumbled backward.

Reiji didn't hesitate.

He launched forward with the last of his momentum, twisting through the air as his legs wrapped around Hizashi's neck. His thighs locked tightly behind the Hyūga's shoulders as he squeezed down with everything he had left.

The hold secured instantly.

His hips twisted, tightening the pressure around the arteries in Hizashi's neck as his body dragged the Hyūga's posture forward.

Hizashi reacted immediately.

His hands shot upward and struck Reiji's legs in quick, precise taps near the joints of the knees. Chakra surged through the strikes as he attempted to shut down the muscles the same way he had crippled Reiji's arms and thigh.

The numbness spread instantly.

Strength drained from Reiji's legs just as it had from the rest of his body.

But the hold remained.

Even as the paralysis crept deeper through the muscles of his thighs, the pressure around Hizashi's neck didn't loosen. His ankles were locked high behind the Hyūga's back, the angle forcing the choke tighter the more Hizashi struggled.

Hizashi realized it moments later.

His fingers shifted from precise strikes to brute force. Both hands gripped Reiji's legs as he tried to pry them apart, forearms straining as he forced against the hold.

It didn't work.

The angle was wrong.

The more he pulled, the tighter the choke compressed around his neck.

Hizashi's breathing grew rough.

The strength in his arms faltered.

Seconds stretched as the pressure restricted the flow of blood upward, the world dimming slowly at the edges of his vision.

His hands slipped.

Then they struck Reiji's legs again—sharp, urgent taps.

Once.

Twice.

A third time, harder.

Reiji understood immediately.

He released the hold at once.

His legs slipped free and both boys collapsed awkwardly onto the grass.

Reiji landed flat on his back, staring up at the sky through the shifting branches above. His arms and legs refused to move. Every limb lay completely numb against the ground.

A slow grin spread across his face.

'That was educational.'

Hizashi stood a few steps away, his breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling as he forced air back into his lungs.

For a moment he simply stared at Reiji.

"…You really are crazy," Hizashi said at last.

His voice was rougher than usual.

Reiji turned his head slightly to look at him.

Hizashi dragged in another breath, one hand briefly touching the side of his neck where the pressure of the choke had been. The skin there was still flushed from where Reiji's legs had locked around his throat.

"Who fights like that?" he added.

Reiji blinked once.

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

Hizashi didn't answer immediately.

He was still trying to steady his breathing.

Reiji shrugged lightly and flexed his fingers, testing the strange numbness lingering through his arm. The movement felt slow and awkward, like the signals between muscle and nerve were still trying to reconnect.

"Well," Hizashi said after a moment, still catching his breath, "I basically paralyzed your entire body."

Reiji rotated his shoulder once, feeling the stiffness where several of his tenketsu had been struck. The joint protested slightly as sensation continued to return.

"Yeah," he admitted.

He lifted his arm a little, watching the sluggish movement with mild interest.

"But how exactly was I supposed to win a clinch against that?"

Hizashi blinked faintly at the question.

Reiji gestured vaguely toward him.

"You're attacking the chakra network directly," he said. "Half my body is a mess right now. If one of those strikes had hit a vital tenketsu, I'd probably be unconscious."

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"And I didn't even know that was possible."

Hizashi watched him quietly.

"If I'd known beforehand," he continued, " maybe I could've tried something different."

He paused briefly.

Then added with complete honesty,

"But in close quarters?"

He shook his head.

"Against that?"

A small grin appeared.

"Yeah. I had no chance."

For several seconds Hizashi said nothing.

The tension from the fight still lingered in his body. His breathing gradually slowed, but the surprise had not faded from his expression. He had entered the spar confident in the superiority of his clan's style. Once Reiji's arms had been shut down, the outcome had seemed inevitable.

And yet—

He had still lost.

His gaze remained fixed on Reiji.

For the first time since they had met, the look in his pale eyes had changed.

Reiji noticed it immediately.

The tension was still there. The pride too. But something else had appeared behind it now.

Respect.

Reiji's grin widened slightly.

Then Reiji's expression shifted slightly, curiosity returning.

"…Can someone learn that?" he asked.

Hizashi frowned.

" The Gentle Fist? "

Reiji nodded.

" Yes."

Hizashi shook his head.

"No."

"The style relies on the Byakugan."

He hesitated before adding,

"Without it, you cannot see the chakra pathways clearly enough to strike them."

Reiji nodded slowly.

"…Makes sense."

He glanced at Hizashi again, studying him in a new way now.

"That's a terrifying fighting style."

Hizashi did not deny it.

"So…" Reiji began.

Hiashi glanced down at him.

"Mmm?"

Reiji lifted one hand weakly, wiggling his fingers again as if testing whether they truly belonged to him.

"Could you help me?" he asked. "It was funny earlier, but now it's getting a bit depressing lying here like this. It feels like I'm the loser."

Hizashi stared at him for a moment.

"…Ah. Yes. My mistake."

He stepped closer and crouched beside him. His hand moved with practiced precision as two fingers struck several points along Reiji's arm and shoulder, the taps light but deliberate. Chakra pulsed briefly through the contact as he reopened the blocked tenketsu.

Warm sensation flooded back through Reiji's limbs almost instantly.

"Aaah," Reiji exhaled, stretching his arm and flexing his hand as the stiffness vanished.

"Much better."

Hizashi straightened slightly.

"Well," he said calmly, "it was an interesting fight. But now—"

He stopped.

Reiji's head had turned slightly toward the training path.

For a brief moment he didn't move, his eyes narrowing as he listened. The wind carried faint sounds through the trees—footsteps brushing through dry grass somewhere beyond the clearing.

Someone was approaching.

Before Hizashi could ask what he had noticed, Reiji's hand shot forward.

He grabbed Hizashi by the head and pulled him down sharply as he dropped into a crouch.

"Down."

Hizashi barely had time to react before the sudden force dragged him with him.

The two boys crouched low beside the thick trunk of an old tree that grew along the edge of the training path. The bark pressed rough against Reiji's shoulder as he leaned into the cover, the wide base of the trunk easily hiding them from anyone walking along the road.

Reiji raised a hand sharply.

"Shh."

Hizashi frowned, clearly annoyed.

"What are you doing?"

Reiji didn't answer immediately. Instead he tilted his head slightly and pointed down the path that cut through the training grounds toward the village.

"Look."

Hizashi leaned just enough to follow the direction of the gesture.

A blond boy walked casually down the road.

His stride was relaxed, almost lazy, his hands tucked behind his head as if he had nowhere urgent to be. The sunlight caught the bright color of his hair even from a distance.

Hizashi narrowed his eyes slightly.

"…Namikaze?"

"Yeah," Reiji murmured. "Looks like it."

Hizashi glanced back at him, confusion plain on his face.

"And what exactly are you doing?"

Reiji turned his head slowly, staring at him as if the answer should be obvious.

"We're following him."

Hizashi blinked.

"We?"

"Yes, we," Reiji replied impatiently. "Are you not curious?"

Hizashi looked back toward the road where Minato continued walking without noticing them.

"Curious about what?"

"What he's doing here," Reiji said quietly. "Obviously."

Hiashi observed the blond boy again before answering.

"…No."

Reiji frowned.

"He's probably just training," Hizashi added calmly.

"Yes," Reiji said, "but why here? He never trains here normally."

Hizashi turned back toward him, studying his face more carefully now.

"…Do you watch him often?"

Reiji stiffened slightly.

"No. Why would you say that?"

Hizashi held his gaze for a moment.

"…Nothing."

Reiji waved the comment away dismissively.

"Good. Now shut up and follow me."

He shifted his weight carefully and began moving along the tree line, staying low as he stepped over exposed roots and patches of dry grass. The ground was uneven here, the dirt packed hard where the path met the training field, but the line of trees provided enough cover to move without being seen from the road.

"We'll keep our distance," Reiji said quietly as he moved. "You'll use your eyes to track him."

Hizashi stopped walking.

He stared at Reiji with a completely blank expression.

"You want me… to spy on him with my Byakugan?"

Reiji glanced back over his shoulder.

"What good are your eyes if you don't use them?"

Hizashi sighed.

Softly.

"…What am I doing with my life."

But after a moment, he followed anyway.

---

They shadowed Minato through the trees at a careful distance, keeping to the thicker undergrowth where the trunks and low branches broke their silhouettes.. Reiji moved slowly, placing each step with deliberate control while keeping his eyes fixed on the blond boy ahead of them. Hizashi followed a few paces behind, quieter than Reiji had expected for someone still recovering from being nearly strangled minutes earlier.

Eventually the trees thinned.

The forest opened into a small clearing where the grass had grown thin and sparse from repeated use as a training spot. Minato walked to the center without hesitation and stopped.

He rolled his shoulders once, loosening his posture as if preparing for practice.

Then he raised one hand and formed a single hand sign.

Reiji frowned slightly from where he crouched behind a broad oak trunk.

"What is he doing?" he murmured.

Hizashi did not answer immediately. His pale eyes narrowed as the Byakugan focused on the chakra flow inside Minato's body.

Minato inhaled slowly.

The air around him shifted.

Reiji noticed the change a moment later. The wind that had been drifting lazily through the clearing began to stir more sharply, tugging at the leaves overhead and brushing across the grass around Minato's feet.

Then Minato's hand moved.

A sharp slicing sound cut through the clearing.

Reiji's eyes widened slightly as a narrow blade of compressed air shot forward. The wind struck the trunk of a nearby tree with a violent hiss, carving a thin line straight through the bark. The outer layer split apart with a dry cracking sound before several fragments of wood fell to the ground.

The clearing went quiet again.

Reiji didn't move.

"…What?"

Minato lowered his hand and stepped closer to the tree, leaning forward slightly to examine the cut. His expression turned thoughtful, and after a moment he scratched the back of his head.

"Hm… still a little unstable."

He stepped back into position.

Another hand sign.

Another slow breath.

The air stirred again.

A second blade of wind shot forward, shaving splinters from the damaged trunk. The bark flaked away under the invisible edge of the technique.

Behind the trees, Reiji stared without blinking.

For once, he had absolutely nothing to say.

An elemental jutsu.

A real one.

Not the harmless chakra tricks they practiced in the Academy. Not theory or classroom demonstrations.

Wind Release.

Hizashi spoke quietly beside him.

"He can already perform nature transformation."

Reiji didn't answer.

His eyes remained locked on Minato as the blond boy reset his stance again, adjusting the position of his feet slightly before trying the technique once more. Each attempt looked deliberate, patient, almost methodical.

A thought surfaced in Reiji's mind without permission.

'He's an orphan.'

No clan.

No family instruction.

No private training in some hidden compound.

And yet—

Reiji felt his jaw tighten.

Something twisted inside his chest. The feeling came quickly, sharp and unpleasant.

Jealousy.

He recognized it immediately.

But that wasn't all.

Minato repeated the technique again, adjusting the angle of his wrist as if testing the shape of the wind blade. There was nothing flashy about the way he trained. Just quiet focus, small corrections, steady repetition.

Another thought followed.

A colder one.

'Father would have liked him.'

Reiji imagined it for a moment before he could stop himself.

Minato standing in their small training garden.

Calm.

Disciplined.

Talented.

Exactly the sort of student his father respected.

The sort of son—

Reiji looked away abruptly.

At that moment Minato stopped moving.

The wind around him faded.

Slowly, he turned his head toward the line of trees.

"…You can come out."

Reiji stiffened.

Hizashi glanced sideways at him.

"Did he see us?" he whispered.

Reiji clicked his tongue under his breath before straightening and stepping out from behind the tree.

Minato blinked when he saw them.

"Oh. Reiji and… Hizashi?"

Reiji crossed his arms.

"You noticed?"

Minato smiled faintly.

"I sensed your chakra."

'The fuck ?'

Hizashi stepped out of the trees as well, brushing a loose twig from his sleeve as he joined them in the clearing. For a moment the three boys simply stood there.

Reiji's eyes drifted to the tree trunk.

The cut left by the wind blade was clean.

His jaw tightened slightly.

"You can already use Wind Release."

Minato rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well… I'm still practicing."

Reiji stared at him.

'Still practicing'

He turned away.

"…You're showing off."

Minato blinked in confusion.

"I wasn't—"

But Reiji was already walking toward the edge of the clearing.

"Come on, Hizashi."

Hizashi followed without protest.

Behind them, Minato remained standing in the grass, watching the two of them leave in silence.

Reiji kept walking without looking back, his hands tucked into his sleeves as the forest swallowed the clearing behind them.

His jaw remained tight.

'Just you wait'.

The thought settled in his mind with cold certainty.

Hyōton.

'I'll catch up soon.'
***
Not much to say today — hope you enjoyed the chapter !

As always, feel free to like and comment, I always appreciate the feedback.

Chapter 22 is already available on Patreon if you'd like to read ahead !

 

[TheSoulFrost]

After parting with Hizashi, Reiji did not linger at the training ground. His mind churned the entire walk home, replaying the conversation again and again. Every attempt he had made to transform his chakra. Every moment where the flow had simply… stopped. The strange resistance inside his tenketsu still felt unreal, like trying to force water through a sealed pipe.

By the time he reached the house, the sky had already begun to dim toward dusk.

Reiji stopped in front of the entrance and stood there for a moment. The familiar wooden frame of the doorway felt oddly heavy tonight. His chest rose slowly as he drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. He had already made the decision. Avoiding the truth any longer would only make things worse.

He slid the door open and stepped inside.

The house was quiet. The faint scent of ink and old paper drifted from the direction of the study, exactly where he expected his father to be. Reiji walked down the corridor and soon found him seated behind his desk, leaning comfortably back in his chair with a book open in one hand. The lamplight illuminated the room in warm yellow tones, reflecting off shelves lined with scrolls and archives.

"Good evening, Father."

Soichiro gave a small nod without looking up from the page.

"How was your day?"

Reiji hesitated. The words he had prepared suddenly felt much heavier now that he was standing here.

"It was good, Father, but…"

That was enough to make Soichiro lift his head. His eyes settled on Reiji immediately, sharp and attentive now that the hesitation in his son's voice had broken the calm of the room. After a brief moment, he closed the book and set it aside.

"Yes?"

Reiji felt the weight of that gaze press down on him. For a second he considered trying to soften the explanation, but that thought disappeared almost immediately.

He took a deep breath.

Then he dropped to the floor in a formal dogeza.

"I'm sorry, Father. I lied to you…"

From the corner of his eye, Reiji saw one of Soichiro's eyebrows rise in quiet surprise.

He began explaining everything.

The words came steadily now that he had started. He described the strange difficulty he had been encountering while attempting nature transformation, how his chakra refused to properly convert into wind nature no matter how precisely he followed the instructions. He explained the conversation with Fugaku, the attempts they had made to analyze the problem, and the growing suspicion that something unusual was happening inside his chakra network.

Then he spoke about meeting the Hyūga twins.

About what they had seen.

About the way his tenketsu seemed to resist the transformation itself.

Finally, he explained the conclusion he had reached—the hypothesis that the problem might not be lack of skill at all, but something deeper tied to his kekkei genkai.

Throughout the entire explanation, Soichiro remained completely silent.

When Reiji finished, the room fell quiet.

"I knew something was wrong," Soichiro said at last.

Reiji slowly raised his head from the floor.

"But I chose not to press you," his father continued calmly. "I understood how much pressure you had already placed on yourself."

His gaze studied Reiji carefully, measuring something.

"You did well with the tools you had. Exploring different possibilities before reaching a conclusion was correct. And seeking out the Hyūga was a clever decision from that boy Fugaku."

For a brief moment, Reiji felt a small flicker of relief.

Then Soichiro paused.

"But…"

Reiji felt his shoulders stiffen instinctively.

"You still should have told me," Soichiro said. His voice was not raised, but the disappointment in it was unmistakable. "I am your father. I am also your teacher. A son seeking help from his father, or a student seeking help from his teacher, is natural."

Soichiro sighed quietly.


"Do you think I would abandon you because something is difficult?"

"No!" Reiji replied immediately, the word leaving him before he could stop it.

He lifted his head fully now, meeting his father's gaze.

"Father, I just… I was afraid of disappointing you, that's all. It's not that I lacked confidence in you."

For a moment Soichiro simply looked at him.

Then he sighed quietly.

"Enough."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms against the desk.

"You said that when you attempt nature transformation, your tenketsu block the process. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"So you came to the conclusion that normal elemental transformation will not work for you. Neither wind nor water separately. Only your kekkei genkai."

Reiji nodded.

Soichiro leaned back again, his expression turning thoughtful as he considered the explanation.

"It is an unusual conclusion," he said slowly. "But it may have merit. Normally, possessing a kekkei genkai does not prevent someone from using the base elements that compose it. In fact, the opposite is usually true."

His brow furrowed faintly.

"Which makes your situation rather absurd. The very elements tied to your Hyōton—wind and water—appear to be the ones your body rejects."

Reiji frowned.

"So… you don't believe me?"

"No," Soichiro said calmly. "I did not say that. Like you did, we must consider every possibility. If your body truly rejects ordinary elemental jutsu, then we will have to test everything."

He looked directly at his son.

"But if you are right, then you already know what that means, don't you?"

Reiji lowered his gaze slightly.

"You won't be able to help me."

For the first time, genuine frustration flickered across Soichiro's face.

He rubbed his forehead slowly.

"Yes," he admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."

He leaned back in his chair again, eyes briefly drifting toward the shelves of scrolls lining the study.

"After your nature affinity was discovered, I searched through Konoha's archives. I even consulted a few clans like the Uchiha and the Yamanaka. But there are no useful records. The Yuki clan is small, secretive, and encounters with them are extremely rare."

His voice lowered slightly.

"The last confirmed battlefield record involving them dates back to the First Shinobi War."

Reiji hesitated before speaking again.

"Maybe Mother showed you once. Maybe she explained something."

The moment the words left his mouth, Soichiro went completely still.

For several seconds he said nothing.

When he finally answered, his voice sounded quieter.

"No."

He looked away briefly.

"There was never a time when she demonstrated it to me. And she certainly never explained how it worked."

His gaze returned to the desk.

"There was no reason for her to."

Silence settled heavily in the room.

Reiji swallowed slightly.

"Then… I'll have to develop it myself."

"Yes," Soichiro said.

"If your theory is correct."

He paused.

"Though I am inclined to believe you."

Reiji looked up again.

"Really?"

Soichiro nodded slowly.

"Hearing your situation reminded me of someone."

Reiji straightened slightly.

"Who?"

"The First Hokage."

Reiji blinked.

"Because he had a kekkei genkai too?"

"Yes."

Soichiro's eyes drifted slightly as if recalling something distant.

"His Mokuton was monstrous. Even today, no one alive could replicate the feats attributed to him in the records. His wood release was an anomaly. There was never any record of it before him, and none of his descendants inherited it either."

Reiji frowned.

"Sorry, Father, but I don't see what that has to do with me."

"Patience."

Soichiro leaned back in his chair.

"The First Hokage was a fascinating man. A great portion of his life was carefully documented, and reading about him is enlightening. But one detail always bothered me."

He paused briefly.

"There is no record of him using anything other than Mokuton."

Reiji froze slightly.

"Are you sure? Maybe it just wasn't recorded. I mean… Mokuton is far more interesting to write about."

"True," Soichiro admitted. "But even when I asked people who had known him personally, they said the same thing. Apart using summoning jutsu or fuinjutsu some time, they never saw him use any jutsu other than Mokuton."

Reiji's brow furrowed deeper.

"That could still be coincidence," he muttered.

"That is possible, maybe I'm just clinging to that idea to reassure myself." Soichiro said.

"We will not know until you prove you can use Hyōton."

His gaze sharpened slightly.

"And even then… the road ahead will not be easy."

After a moment of silence, he opened one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a scroll. Without much ceremony, he tossed it toward Reiji.

Reiji caught it instinctively.

"A scroll on water manipulation," Soichiro said.

"Start there. Good luck, son."

Reiji looked down at the scroll in his hands for a moment before lifting his gaze again. Determination had settled into his expression now, quiet but firm.

"I won't disappoint you again, Father."

Soichiro simply waved one hand tiredly, already drifting back into thought.

Reiji bowed once more before rising and quietly leaving the study.

As the door slid closed behind him, the scroll felt unexpectedly heavy in his hands.

If no one could teach him Hyōton…

Then he would have to learn it himself.

----

The house had long since fallen silent by the time Reiji returned to his room.

Only a small lantern burned on the desk near the window, its faint flame flickering gently and casting soft, wavering shadows across the wooden walls. Outside, the village rested beneath the quiet weight of night. The distant chirping of insects blended with the occasional whisper of wind moving through the trees beyond the compound.

Reiji sat down slowly and unrolled the scroll his father had given him.

Water manipulation.

The parchment crackled faintly as he flattened it against the desk. Carefully drawn diagrams filled the page—precise sketches of chakra circulation through the tenketsu, annotated arrows tracing the direction of flow through the coils. Detailed instructions explained how to soften the chakra's structure, allowing it to expand and move with the smooth, cohesive pressure of a current rather than the sharpened force used in wind transformation.

Reiji read the first section slowly, absorbing each explanation.

Then he read it again.

Wind transformation had always required sharpness. The chakra had to be compressed, refined, and divided into thin currents until the flow carried a cutting edge. The sensation was always tight and precise, like forcing a blade through narrow channels.

Water, according to the scroll, demanded the opposite approach.

Instead of compression, the chakra needed to spread and deepen. The instructions described widening the flow through the network, allowing it to circulate with the steady pressure of a slow river. Control came not from sharpness, but from cohesion.

Reiji closed his eyes and began circulating his chakra.

Immediately, something strange caught his attention.

The movement of chakra inside his network already resembled the patterns illustrated in the scroll. The current flowed smoothly through his tenketsu, expanding and folding back into itself like water moving through a riverbed. The transitions between coils felt stable, almost effortless.

The diagrams on the scroll matched what his body was already doing.

Too closely.

His brow furrowed slightly before returning at his task.

Hyōton was a fusion of water and wind.

If his body rejected the elements individually, then perhaps the problem was not incompatibility.

Perhaps his chakra expected both transformations simultaneously.

Reiji exhaled slowly and adjusted his posture.

Alright.

He began forming wind transformation inside his chakra network.

At the same time, he attempted to maintain the slower, heavier circulation pattern described for water manipulation.

The reaction was immediate.

The moment the wind transformation sharpened the chakra current, the wider water flow destabilized. The two patterns collided violently within the network, disrupting the circulation and dispersing the chakra before either transformation could stabilize.

The flow collapsed completely.

Reiji opened his eyes.

Annoyance flickered across his expression.

He tried again.

This time he attempted to divide the transformation across different sections of his chakra network.

Wind transformation formed along one route of circulation.

Water manipulation along another.

For a brief moment both patterns held.

Then the currents met.

The instant they touched, the incompatible flows crashed together chaotically and scattered through his network.

Reiji clenched his teeth slightly.

This wasn't like writing with two hands at the same time.

It was closer to attempting to play two completely different instruments while using the same hands.

The moment his focus shifted toward maintaining one transformation, the other destabilized instantly.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes drifting toward the scroll spread across the desk.

Then another idea formed.

If separating the flows inside his network was impossible…

Then perhaps he could separate them physically.

Reiji placed one hand flat on the desk and closed his eyes again.

He focused carefully.

Wind transformation began forming slowly in his right palm. The chakra condensed instinctively, sharpening into a tighter, more refined flow.

Then he tried shaping water manipulation in his left hand.

The strain hit immediately.

His mind had to maintain two entirely different transformation patterns simultaneously. One demanded compression and division. The other required expansion and cohesion.

The moment his concentration drifted even slightly, the patterns clashed and the chakra dispersed uselessly into the air.

Minutes passed.

Then nearly an hour.

The lantern burned lower, its flame shrinking until the room darkened around him.

Reiji's breathing grew heavier as fatigue slowly crept into his muscles. Maintaining two transformations at once felt like balancing opposing forces inside his own body.

Again.

Wind chakra sharpened in the right hand.

Water chakra circulated through the left.

Again.

The chakra collapsed.

Again.

The current destabilized and scattered.

His fingers trembled faintly from the strain.

Reiji lowered his head for a moment, breathing slowly as exhaustion pressed against the edges of his focus.

Impossible?

The thought surfaced briefly.

Then he shook his head.

No.

His jaw tightened slightly.

'I'm better than this.'

The words rose quietly but firmly in the back of his mind.

'I'm a genius.'

'Something this simple shouldn't stop me.'

His eyes hardened as determination pushed aside the creeping fatigue.

'Nothing will stop me.'

Reiji lifted his hands again.

Wind gathered in the right palm.

Water flowed through the left.

Then, slowly…

He brought his hands together again.

---

Morning light had only just begun to spread across the village when Soichiro stepped outside.

A thin veil of mist hovered over the ground, clinging to the grass and the wooden edges of the compound. The air carried the cool scent of damp earth and early dew, the kind of quiet stillness that existed only in the moments before the village fully woke. Soichiro held a cup of coffee loosely in one hand, letting the warmth seep into his fingers as he stepped onto the porch.

Normally he enjoyed this hour. The calm of the morning gave him space to think.

Today his thoughts refused to settle.

Reiji's explanation from the previous night replayed again and again in his mind. The possibility that his son's chakra network rejected elemental transformation entirely was deeply troubling. Such a condition would not simply complicate training—it could cripple a shinobi's development before it even truly began.

If that were true…

"Father."

Soichiro blinked and turned toward the voice.

Reiji stood a few steps away.

For a brief moment Soichiro didn't even recognize him.

The boy's posture remained upright, but the stiffness in his shoulders was unmistakable. Heavy shadows hung beneath his eyes, and the slight sway in his stance suggested the quiet instability of someone running purely on stubborn determination rather than rest.

"Reiji?"

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him.

"Why do you look like that?"

A short pause passed.

"Did you train all night?"

Reiji gave a slow, tired nod.

"I want to show you something."

Before Soichiro could respond, Reiji turned and began walking toward the small pond behind the house.

Soichiro watched him for a moment, confusion briefly crossing his expression, before following.

The grass beneath their feet was damp with morning dew, bending quietly with each step. The pond lay just beyond the edge of the garden, its surface calm and mirrorlike beneath the pale glow of the rising sun. A thin layer of mist drifted over the water, curling lazily across the surface.

Reiji stopped at the edge of the pond.

"Watch."

He brought his palms together slowly, fingers aligned as though forming a quiet prayer. His shoulders straightened slightly as he steadied his breathing, forcing his exhausted body to obey through sheer concentration.

Then he closed his eyes.

At first nothing happened.

Several seconds passed in complete silence. The faint rustle of wind through nearby trees was the only sound.

Soichiro watched, uncertain what his son intended to demonstrate.

Then he noticed it.

A faint thread of pale vapor escaping between Reiji's fingers.

Soichiro's brow furrowed.

The air around the boy's hands began to cool. It wasn't sudden—it spread gradually, like a subtle shift in temperature that brushed lightly against the skin. The faint mist thickened as the chill intensified, thin curls of cold vapor rising from the seam between Reiji's palms.

"What…?"

Reiji opened his eyes.

Without speaking, he slowly separated his hands and stepped forward toward the pond. The cold mist followed the movement of his palms like drifting smoke carried on an invisible current.

Then he plunged both hands into the water.

The pond surface rippled outward from the point of contact.

For a brief moment, nothing else happened.

Then frost began spreading.

Thin white lines raced across the water like branching veins of crystal, expanding rapidly from where Reiji's hands touched the surface. The frost thickened as it spread, hardening into pale ice that pushed outward in widening circles. Within seconds nearly two meters of the pond had frozen solid, the once smooth water transformed into a cloudy sheet of ice.

The surrounding air grew noticeably colder.

Soichiro stared.

"How…?"

His voice carried genuine disbelief.

"In one night?"

Reiji slowly straightened.

The moment the intense focus broke, his shoulders sagged slightly. The exhaustion he had been suppressing began creeping visibly back into his posture.

At the same time, the mist around his hands started thinning.

Soichiro noticed immediately.

The pale vapor drifting from his son's palms weakened gradually, fading into the morning air. The biting chill that had settled around them receded as well. The thin layer of frost coating Reiji's fingers began melting, droplets of water sliding down his skin as warmth slowly returned.

Within seconds the unnatural cold was gone.

Reiji flexed his fingers slowly, working the stiffness from the joints as sensation returned.

"The process is slow," he said quietly. "And I have to keep the wind and water chakra together."

He glanced down briefly at his palms.

"If the two flows separate, the effect disappears."

His voice remained calm, but the fatigue behind it was unmistakable.

"The moment I stop maintaining both transformations, the cold fades."

He exhaled softly.

"I can barely call it a jutsu."

Reiji turned to face his father.

"But it's a start."

A faint hint of pride flickered through his exhausted expression.

He lifted one palm slightly.

"I call it…"

"Hyōton: Hyōshō."

Ice Release: Ice Palm.

For several seconds Soichiro said nothing.

He simply stood there, completely still, staring at the frozen section of pond and then back at his son.

Slowly, he stepped forward.

Then he raised his arms and pulled Reiji into a quiet embrace.

"You really are my son."

Reiji didn't hear the words.

His body had finally reached its limit.

The moment the tension holding him upright disappeared, his eyes closed and the last of his strength faded.

Already asleep, he slumped quietly against his father's chest.

***

A/N :
So yeah, like I said before, I always wanted to write a Hyōton MC.

That was basically the core idea from the start—the bloodline and the techniques. Everything else came after.

I've got way too many ideas for it, not gonna lie. I'll try to keep it from turning into full power fantasy… but it's really tempting.

I could just have Reiji go around doing cool stuff and fighting Kage-level shinobi, but I'd rather build a proper story first.

So yeah—we're taking it slow.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!

I just posted Chapter 23 (my biggest one yet so far i think) on Patreon if you want to read ahead.

 

[peixe_do_dallas]

Great chapter and great story. The interactions are really good and realistic.