Stepping closer, Eichi paused.
There it was—faint.
A presence.
No... multiple presences.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing. Chakra signatures. Not just one, but several. All tangled together, sealed within the box like whispers buried under centuries of silence.
His expression hardened, and he closed his eyes.
Activating Kagura's Mind Eye, he reached deeper, letting his senses stretch into the box like invisible threads. The space within was far more complex than it appeared—layered with barriers, seals, and something... something breathing.
Isshin and Shino exchanged a glance but said nothing. They had seen enough ancient remnants to know better than to interrupt. Especially one tied to a Shinobi legacy.
Especially one that had killed before.
Because it had. Many had tried to open the box over the centuries. And many had paid with their lives—drawn by dreams of forbidden knowledge or unmatched power.
Shino bit her lip, growing restless. Finally, she broke the silence. "Something wrong?"
Eichi opened his eyes slowly, his face unreadable. "Yeah... I don't really know," he admitted.
Isshin stepped closer. "What do you mean, Eichi-san?"
Eichi didn't answer right away. His gaze remained fixed on the box, as if it might move at any moment.
"There's something living inside of it," he said finally. "Not a person, not exactly. It's not just a seal or a stored technique either. It's... alive. A living thing, still pulsing with chakra."
He looked at the two of them, his voice low.
"I don't know how it's stayed alive for this long. Maybe it's tied to time itself. Maybe Kamakeru sealed a part of his own soul. Or something new."
Shino's eyes widened. "Are you saying it's aware?"
Eichi nodded slowly. "Possibly. Or... it's waiting. Watching. It's hard to tell."
Isshin frowned. "Could it be a guardian? Or a trap?"
"Both," Eichi replied. "And that's what worries me. This kind of Fuinjutsu—it's beyond anything I've ever seen. Even for our clan."
A cold silence followed.
Then Eichi took a deep breath, stepped closer, and raised two fingers.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu."
In a puff of smoke, a perfect copy appeared beside him. Without needing a word, the clone moved forward while the original stepped back, watching carefully.
The clone reached the box and slowly opened it.
Then froze.
"What... what the actual fuck," the clone muttered, voice shaking.
Eichi frowned. "Something wrong?"
The clone didn't take his eyes off the box. "Boss... you need to see this yourself."
Eichi stepped forward cautiously. As soon as he saw inside, he stopped cold.
Charred pieces of flesh. Blackened, dry. Like it had been cooked from the inside out. And in one corner of the box—piled, flaking skin. Dried. Shriveled.
"Just a dead lead, huh," Eichi said quietly, disappointment deep in his voice.
But the clone didn't move.
"No," he said. "You need to see it. The way I did."
And in the next moment, Eichi felt it—memories crashing into his mind as the jutsu connected their thoughts. His eyes snapped shut, body stiffening.
It had been alive.
Not human, not anymore. But it moved. Pale, almost translucent flesh pulsed weakly beneath the dead layers like something barely holding on.
Then, it burned.
Not with flame—but with heat. Dry, absolute, consuming. Like Scorch Release, one of the rarest and most dangerous elemental chakra forms. It drained all moisture, all life, leaving behind only ash.
And right before the burning, there it was—a scroll. Buried in the flesh. Thin threads of chakra wrapped around it like veins. They pulsed with energy... then flared, and burned to nothing along with the body, leaving the scroll intact.
Eichi's breath caught in his throat.
"That... wasn't just a corpse," Eichi said slowly, eyes still fixed on the box. "It maybe was a living seal."
Isshin stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "You're saying it sacrificed itself?"
Eichi nodded. "Again, maybe. It burned the moment it was exposed. Like it had a command—destroy the contents if opened by the wrong hands... or maybe even by anyone at all."
Shino furrowed her brow. "The contents... they're gone?"
Eichi shook his head. "No. There was a scroll inside. It's still there."
Isshin blinked. "Still there? But the seal burned everything, didn't it?"
Eichi moved closer again. "Not everything. The seal destroyed the body—whatever that thing was—but the scroll survived."
Shino leaned in, trying to see. "Why would a scroll survive something that burned the rest?"
"Because it wasn't just sealed," Eichi explained. "I would take a guess that it was protected. Preserved. Maybe the threads weren't only supplying chakra—they were guarding knowledge. Waiting for someone like me... or maybe just someone with Uzumaki blood."
He knelt by the box, chakra flowing from his palm as he hovered it near the scroll. The seal didn't reject him. Instead, faint threads of chakra responded to his presence.
"The guardian died, but the message remains. Now... let's see what it says."
Eichi carefully reached in, fingers brushing the edge of the scroll. It felt warm, pulsing like a heartbeat. He drew it out slowly, watching as the last of the protective threads dissolved into dust.
Symbols danced across the surface, shifting and aligning themselves into words he could understand. Ancient Uzumaki script—elegant and flowing, like rivers of knowledge carved into paper.
Then, without warning, a sudden gust of smoke burst from the scroll, engulfing Eichi in a dense, swirling cloud.
"Eichi!" Shino cried out, panic in her voice.
Isshin stepped forward, arm raised to shield his face as the smoke thickened.
And then—it began to fade.
What emerged left all of them speechless.
There, in the center of the basement, seated in a lotus position, was a man. Not just any man—Kamakeru Uzumaki.
His presence was undeniable.
He wore the old Uzumaki battle armor, its plates worn and dented from countless wars, yet his body showed no wounds. No scars. Nothing to suggest the passage of time had touched him.
His long red hair was tied neatly into a high ponytail, letting his aged yet dignified face remain fully visible.
Lines of wisdom marked his features, but there was no weakness in him—only stillness, like that of a sleeping storm.
His hands rested peacefully on his knees. His eyes were closed. But chakra radiated from him—old, heavy, and suffocating.
Alive... or something close to it.
"...Is that really him?" Shino whispered, barely able to breathe.
Eichi didn't answer.
He stepped forward slowly, heart pounding, unsure if what stood before him was a miracle... or a trap.
Then, the man stirred.
His eyelids lifted with quiet grace, revealing deep purple eyes—shrouded in shadows, yet filled with depth that felt endless.
His voice, when it came, was smooth and resonant. Each word carried weight, like it had traveled centuries to be spoken.
"So... you, too, have become bound to this place?" he said. "How curious. The wheel turns, and still, the blood returns to the flame."
Eichi's breath caught in his throat.
"Kamakeru-sama... do you remember me?" Eichi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with a mix of awe and quiet desperation.
Memories rushed back—of the final moments before the Space-Time seal activated, of the chaos, of the enemy closing in.
He had believed Kamakeru perished then, slain by one of the pursuers before the technique had fully taken effect.
And yet, here he stood.
But even as hope stirred in his chest, Eichi's mind whispered the truth he had long buried.
This wasn't the Kamakeru he knew. Not entirely.
The presence before him was likely a clone—an ancient one, created long before Eichi had even drawn breath in the Shinobi world. A safeguard. A relic.
So even as he asked the question, part of him already knew the answer.
This Kamakeru might not know him at all.
But still... he hoped.
The old man studied Eichi with calm, knowing eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was soft but carried the weight of time.
"Do we ever truly know ourselves, young one?"
Eichi opened his mouth to respond, but the man raised a hand gently.
"Save your words. It matters little now."
There was no bitterness in his tone—only peace. Acceptance.
"I thank you," Kamakeru continued, his gaze distant. "You gave me something valuable, if only for a moment. That alone is enough. At least now, I know I've returned home..."
A pause followed.
"However," he said, a faint smile flickering across his weathered face, "I don't have much time. My chakra is nearly spent."
The air grew heavier. As if the very room understood that time was slipping away.
Isshin stepped forward at last, voice low, reverent. "Kamakeru-sama... if you truly are him, then your return marks more than just a moment. You've brought answers with you. Warnings, maybe. We've been in the dark for too long."
Kamakeru turned to him, nodding slowly. "And that darkness has only grown deeper. The world is not as I left it. The threads have frayed... and the storm that once passed will rise again."
Isshin's brow furrowed. "You knew this would happen."
"I feared it would," Kamakeru replied, eyes closing for a moment, as if reliving a memory centuries old. "That is why I placed a clone within the seal. Not to survive—but to wait. To watch. And to speak, should someone reach me."
Behind them, Shino remained quiet. But her thoughts raced. Her heart thudded with a mixture of fear and awe.
This is real. He's real. The man from all those stories, the one who vanished before the records began. The Red Sage... alive in front of us.
She glanced at Eichi. The way he looked at Kamakeru... it was different. More than admiration. Almost like grief.
He knew him. Not just as a legend... but as family.
Shino felt small in that moment—like she was witnessing something not meant for her, something personal. And yet, she was a part of it now. Whether she understood it or not.
Kamakeru's voice drew her back.
"This moment is brief," he said, his tone both weary and solemn. "But I will not waste it. Ask what you must. I will answer what I can... before I fade."
"Is there... is there a possibility that you brought us here instead of to Konohagakure?" Eichi asked, his voice tight, his fist unconsciously clenched at his side.
At that, Kamakeru's brow furrowed. "Konohagakure? You must speak clearly, Uzumaki. What are you implying?"
Eichi took a breath and steadied himself. "Did you... did you perhaps discover a way to cross worlds? Even if you don't have the answer now, if your original self succeeded in returning to the Shinobi world, would he have preserved the knowledge?"
Kamakeru went quiet, closing his eyes briefly before responding. "I cannot say for certain if my original completed his task and returned home. But if I am here, and you know of me... then it is likely he did. You knew him, didn't you? Or..."
Eichi nodded once, his voice low. "Yes, Kamakeru-sama. You are right. While centuries passed in this world since you arrived, only decades went by back home. And by the time of your return... Ninja villages were established, and Uzuchio was already standing, ready to welcome you."
Kamakeru blinked at that. A flicker of genuine surprise passed over his weathered features.
"How curious... So the world moved on. Did Tobirama speak the truth, then? When he claimed his brother wanted peace by uniting with the Uchiha?"
Eichi raised an eyebrow. "You knew the Second Hokage?"
"Hokage?" Kamakeru echoed, the word foreign on his tongue. Then he chuckled softly, the sound dry. "Ah... yes. We were both enthusiasts of Fuinjutsu—especially the complexities of space-time theory. While I pursued it for knowledge's sake, Tobirama sought it to neutralize a single Uchiha clansman he could never best in direct combat."
He exhaled slowly, his gaze turning distant. "The Uchiha were always at the heart of everything. Feared for their power. Hated for their pride. Hashirama may have reached for peace... but a peace built on fear never lasts."
Eichi gave a soft, humorless snort. "It didn't. And contrary to what you might assume, it wasn't the Uchiha who broke that peace. If anything, had Madara been made Hokage... there would have been no more wars."
"Madara Uchiha..." Kamakeru's eyes lit with recognition. "Ah yes, the one who bewitched Hashirama into dreaming of unity."
He let out a light laugh, shaking his head. "Time truly is a cruel trickster. Still, indulge me—what did Madara do to this so-called Konoha?"
"He tried to unite the shinobi world. That was his goal."
"Typical Uchiha," Kamakeru muttered. "Arrogant... but dangerous enough to believe he could actually do it."
There was a pause.
"But in the end," Eichi said softly, voice growing cold, "if they—no, if we—had followed his vision... we wouldn't have been hunted down like dogs."
The air in the chamber shifted, growing still and heavy. Cold.
Kamakeru's expression darkened as he lifted his gaze. "What do you mean... hunted? Us? Uzumaki?"
Eichi nodded once. "Indeed. Three great nations—working together—launched a coordinated strike against Uzushio. Thousands of shinobi, united for a single cause: our extermination. They feared our techniques. Our knowledge. Our bloodline."
"And this Konoha?" Kamakeru asked, though the answer seemed already written across his aged face.
"They watched." Eichi's voice was low, bitter. "They watched it burn from afar. Not a single hand raised in our defense."
The silence that followed was tense, suffocating.
"So the ones we called allies... the ones who shared our blood..." His voice was tight with restrained anger. "They stood aside."
"The Senju's power waned in Konoha, instead emerged a new faction within it, leaded by a sarutobi and some minor clans. They may have built the village with the Uchiha, but when the time came, only a few of the Uchiha and senju went rogue—to help us. The rest... they obeyed orders. Followed the same leaders who labeled us a lost cause."
"I remember teaching some of them," he murmured. "They were young... proud... flawed, yes, but brave. I never thought their descendants would betray their own friends."
A long breath escaped him as he reached into the folds of his armor, pulling out a scroll wrapped in thick sealing threads. "But that matters little now... here."
He extended the scroll to Eichi.
"This is the result of my research—my life's work, conducted in this alien world, to find a way back to our Kami-forsaken homeland. You may not seek that path today... but one day, you might. And when that day comes, you'll need this."
Eichi took the scroll with reverence, the aged parchment still warm with residual chakra. As he gently began to unroll it, Kamakeru spoke once more.
"This is the product of decades—nights bled into years. Every line carved by desperation, hope, and pain. The theories may be dense, the seals complex... even by our standards. Space-time traversal remains a mystery—too vast even for the Uzumaki."
He looked directly into Eichi's eyes.
"But perseverance is the key. That's what I want to leave behind."
Eichi's fingers hovered over the first array on the scroll, each character pulsing faintly like a living thread.
Behind him, Shino and Isshin remained silent, watching as if witnessing the handover of a sacred torch.
Eichi finally spoke, low and respectful. "I'll study it. Protect it. When the time comes... I'll act."
Kamakeru gave a faint, satisfied nod. "Then my work was not in vain."
The old shinobi shifted slightly, his form beginning to flicker at the edges. Chakra unspooled from him like mist caught in wind.
"It seems my time has come."
Shino took a step forward, unsure. "Wait—what will happen to you?"
He offered her a faint smile. "I was never meant to awaken. This moment... was borrowed. The seal that held me here was not for living—it was for passing on. And I have."
Eichi clenched his jaw. "You deserve rest. But if we meet your original, then I'll tell him... the clone fulfilled its duty"
Kamakeru raised a hand gently. "I thank you, however, if it was the case, he may receive the memories. May the Sage of Six paths be with you, child."
And with that, his body dissipated into pale threads of chakra, rising like smoke—no pain, no sound, just silence.
Only the scroll in Eichi's hands remained warm.
"Uzumaki-san," Isshin spoke, adjusting the front of his blue kimono, "I would like to extend an invitation—for you to attend the next Clan Head Summit."
Shino blinked, still reeling from everything she'd just witnessed. Her voice came out more like a breath. "Father...? There were Clan Head Summits before this?"
Isshin didn't respond immediately. But before he could, Eichi spoke.
"I go by the name Uzuchi now," he said. "Taking on the Uzumaki name again might carry some advantages, especially now that I understand the history behind it. But you and I both know, Isshin-sama..."—his gaze sharpened—"that human greed doesn't rest easily."
Isshin gave a slow nod. "Of course. But I urge you nonetheless. The clans have been walking a fine line lately. Tensions mount, and unity grows thinner with each passing year. The only thing holding us together are the threats from the outside."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "But now, with one of the original architects of Shinobi life reappearing, even if briefly, your presence will carry weight. No one will dare speak against you—especially not someone of your caliber."
Then, turning his eyes to Shino, his tone shifted. Less formal, but no less stern.
"And as for the Summit—yes, it has always existed. But as much as it pains me to admit, you were once too reckless. Rebellious to a fault. I feared you wouldn't be able to maintain composure when real threats closed in."
He paused. "Especially while you were still so easily manipulated by the so-called Hero way of life."
Shino stepped forward, her voice filled with disbelief. "But... what threats? The world's at peace. You told me yourself, ever since the Second World War, no Shinobi duties remained. Some even said Shinobi had faded into legend."
Isshin gave a tired exhale, the weight of long-hidden truths pressing on his shoulders. "The Chinese and Korean sect incursions," he said grimly. "That's what kept us from collapse. We may have expanded our economy and adapted to the times, but the Shinobi way of life would've vanished completely if not for those persistent threats. We still train, we still gather, because danger never truly sleeps. Without it, we would've already faded into history."
Chinese sects...? Koreans? Shino's thoughts raced.
They existed?
Her entire life she had believed the Shinobi world was a lost cause—an inheritance of chakra and bloodlines passed down through shadows. But Chinese sword sects? Martial cultivators? Those only ever appeared in manhua and online stories. Wild tales about divine swords, Qi, flying blades, and monstrous levels of power.
Fantasy.
After all... even with her father's incredible stories, those kinds of beings are too exaggerated.
Isshin folded his arms, his gaze never leaving his daughter.
"I kept it from you because you weren't ready. We exist in the margins now—on the edge of being forgotten by a world obsessed with capes and quirks. But the real threats? The ones who never gave up their roots in blood, blade, and discipline? They never stopped watching us."
Eichi finally spoke as he rolled the scroll closed and tucked it carefully.
"He's right. Even in our world, where powerful individuals walk like gods, if they sense an opportunity for greater strength—they'll take it. Here, Jutsu may seem like little more than schoolyard techniques, but even the basics hold deadly utility in the right hands. And with the level of Kenjutsu I saw from your father earlier, combined with refined chakra control... it's easy to imagine that other clans guard similar secrets—coveted ones."
Isshin gave a small nod before turning his gaze back to Shino.
"Have you ever wondered why the Shinobi never tried to rise again in public? It's not just suppression. It's tactical. If we stood openly, we'd be hunted. Not only by those who fear us... but by those who'd tear apart our traditions for their own gain."
Shino's voice came faint, uncertain. "So... all this time, we've just been hiding?"
"No," Isshin said, his voice like iron. "We've been at war. Quiet. Relentless. Since the rise of quirks, we've been under constant pressure. When new abilities began appearing in the general population, many were able to disguise themselves as quirks—tools of heroism, or villainy. And those with deeper roots? They came in broad daylight, wearing the mask of the one of them."
He continued, eyes dark.
"Some of the so-called villains you've heard about abroad? They were ours. Agents made to wear the title so the world wouldn't see the clans alive. Others—those from the outside—have done the same. It's a silent war of legacy versus legacy. Of Light versus Shadows."
"So the villains... weren't always villains?"
"Some weren't," Isshin said, "The world needed explanations... neat categories. Villains and heroes. Right and wrong. But us, Shinobi and Sects... we don't fit into those boxes. We never did."
A silence fell again, heavy with old truths.
Then Isshin added quietly, "We protected the system by becoming its shadow and receiving their contracts. Even if that meant sacrificing our name, our pride, and our dead."
"And now," Eichi muttered, "with that legacy returned... You hope that I will change the balance."
Isshin turned to him. "The Clan Summit must be called. I hope you'll attend it—as Uzumaki."
Eichi let out a slow sigh. "Fair enough," he said. "But before that... there's another matter. One that can't wait."
Isshin's brow furrowed slightly. "And what matter would that be?"
"There's another threat," Eichi said calmly. "One not born of quirks... or foreign sects. Something more familiar."
Isshin's frown deepened. "Explain. In detail, if you would."
It was Shino who spoke then. "The people who came with Eichi—they established something. A Shinobi organization in Mexico. They call themselves the Bloody Mist."
Isshin's expression darkened. "Do they serve a leader? Or an ideal?"
"They serve as mercenaries, at least that what I think," Eichi replied. "And the belief that Shinobi must rule from the shadows, not protect."
Shino shivered. "We saw what they did to the cartel. They don't kill recklessly, but they do kill, and without hesitation."
Isshin's hand tightened into a fist.
"So," Isshin muttered, "what you want... is manpower."
Eichi met his eyes. "Indeed. And while I'd like nothing more than to begin the hunt immediately, I can't move freely. Eyes are on me. So in the meantime"—he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write with steady strokes—"train the most promising individuals in this region. When the time comes, I'll assess who is fit to move forward."
When he finished, he handed the paper over.
It detailed a rigorous regimen: physical conditioning for long-distance travel on foot, endurance under harsh terrain, and the basics of shinobi discipline. It listed primary specializations—sensory, medics, kenjutsu, reconnaissance—and criteria to identify aptitudes early in training.
Isshin read it, his face unreadable. But there was a faint glint of respect in his eyes.
Then Eichi asked, "That technique earlier, how did you channel chakra outside your body like that? Was it a quirk?"
He had yet to meet someone capable of projecting chakra beyond their body unless it was linked to an ability labeled as a quirk.
Isshin gave a wry smile. "No. Fortunately, I was born without one."
Eichi's brows drew together slightly. His theories were aligning—quirks, he believed, were simply mutations born from chakra. Twisted evolutions of what was once pure energy. But here, it was the so-called 'quirkless' who still held the most potential... just like the bloodline clans of his old world.
"So," he asked slowly, "quirkless individuals have greater compatibility with Jutsu's?"
Isshin raised an eyebrow. "So you've already figured that much out."
Isshin folded the training scroll and slipped it into his sleeve before responding.
"The truth is," he said, his tone dropping into something heavier, "when quirks began appearing generations ago, they spread like wildfire—flashy, convenient powers that anyone could grasp without discipline. The world welcomed it. But for every generation born with quirks, fewer and fewer were born able to access true chakra."
He tapped his chest lightly with two fingers. "Eventually, quirkless people were seen as inferior. But some of us... we knew better. Chakra wasn't gone—it was just buried. Suppressed, either by evolution or by intention."
Eichi leaned slightly forward. "Intention?"
Isshin nodded. "We believe there was a suppression—a forced mutation, likely triggered during the early scientific breakthrough. Someone, or something, tampered with the natural development of chakra in humanity. The result was quirks. A shortcut. A deviation."
Shino's eyes widened. "So quirks were never supposed to exist?"
"Not in their current form," Isshin said. "They're a patchwork. Chakra made manifest, but without balance. Without understanding. And the more people rely on them, the further they drift from the core."
Eichi glanced at his hand, flexing his fingers slowly as if feeling the very energy beneath his skin. "So the few quirkless people left... they're the key to bringing true Chakra back."
Isshin met his gaze. "They're the last fertile soil in a world overrun with weeds."
There was a long silence before Eichi finally asked, "How many of them remain?"
Isshin sighed. "Not many. Less than twenty percent of the global population. But they're out there. Some mocked. Some disregarded. Some... murdered."
Eichi's expression darkened. "Then they suffer for the strength they unknowingly carry."
"They do," Isshin confirmed. "And most of them don't even realize what lies dormant within them. Decades of cultural conditioning taught the world that without a quirk, you're broken. But we—those who remember the truth—know better."
Shino looked between them, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then why haven't we done something until now?"
Isshin gave her a long look. "Because power without guidance is dangerous. We've had to be patient, wait for the right moment—and the right leaders. You may not have realized it before, but this moment... you're standing in it."
Eichi sighed. "As much as it pains me, there's not much I can do. True chakra knowledge is dangerous. My world proved that — not even ten years of peace passed without another war spreading across the continent. This world, while it has its own battles, hasn't seen anything like that. Even with quirks, the number of people who've died over hundreds of years is less than what two decades of war caused in mine."
Isshin gave a slow, understanding nod. "Then perhaps that's why you were brought here, Eichi. Not to repeat history—but to change its rhythm."
Eichi looked to the ceiling, as if hoping for an answer to fall from the heavens. "Even if I were to teach them, how many could bear the burden of true Chakra? Of wielding something that doesn't simply act, but responds to the heart?" He shook his head. "Power like that... it destroys those without purpose."
Isshin stepped closer, his voice softer, yet firmer. "And yet, purpose can be taught. Unlike quirks, Chakra is not gifted—it is earned. That's what separates us from them. We bleed for every ounce of strength."
Shino, quietly absorbing every word, finally spoke. "So if we do awaken them... what happens when they start looking for a purpose beyond peace?"
Eichi turned to her. "That's why I won't spread it widely. That's the price of passing on the old way. You don't just hand someone a sword. You teach them when to draw it — and when not to. We all admire the Sage of Six Paths, but even his teachings helped create the shinobi culture. And as long as there is a shinobi culture, true peace will never be in order."
Isshin's gaze grew heavy, the weight of Eichi's words drawing silence into the room like a vacuum.
"I lived throught it all," Eichi answered. "I watched peace crumble because ideals weren't enough. Strength gives birth to fear. Fear breeds control. Control demands resistance. And so, the cycle renews. The Sage of Six Paths... he dreamed of balance, but his dream became the blueprint for war."
Shino stepped forward slightly, her voice cautious but curious. "Then why teach it at all? Why not let it die with the past?"
Eichi's eyes didn't waver. "Because our enemies haven't let it die. The sword still exists — and pretending it doesn't won't stop it from being used. That's why I'm telling you this. I need help. Sometimes, the only way to fight fire is with a brighter one."
Isshin sighed. "So this is why you want manpower."
Eichi nodded. "Exactly. I don't need an army. Not yet. I need people who can walk the old path, but see it differently."
Isshin's fingers tapped against his arm, thoughtful. "And if the fire you awaken spreads out of control? What then?"
"Then I'll be the one to put it down," Eichi said coldly. "I'm not training saviors. I'm not creating a hidden village. I'm gathering those who can shoulder the truth without being consumed by it."
Isshin finally stepped forward, placing the paper Eichi had given him earlier onto the low table between them. "Alright then."
"And the quirkless?" Eichi asked.
"I'll make inquiries," Isshin replied. "But we'll have to move carefully. Many of them are lost... desperate. If we bring them in without structure, we'll breed another quirk war."
Eichi nodded. "Then we give them structure. Purpose. Brotherhood. And for those who survive the training... we give them a name."
Shino raised an eyebrow. "A name?"
"Simple," Eichi said. "ANBU."
"ANBU?" Isshin asked.
"Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai," Shino replied slowly, her voice serious.
Isshin's eyes darkened. The name lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. "The Special Assassination and Tactical Squad... While the name itself is unusual, I don't see it as a foundation to rally people or build conviction. It feels more like the creation of emotionless tools. Which, frankly... is already what we shinobi are doing now."
"But wait," Shino cut in, turning to Eichi. "Didn't you say you had no experience in that kind of unit?"
"I did," Eichi admitted. "But this isn't about my past. We need a scouting unit. One that can go up against that organization stirring in Mexico. For logistics, we'll operate under the guise of another mercenary group—off the radar."
Shino frowned slightly, but didn't argue. It was Isshin who spoke next.
"But that still leaves the biggest issue," he said. "How do you give people the courage to carry out missions like that? Some of our experienced shinobi are adults, yes, but a lot of them... they're still just kids."
"That's true," Eichi said. "But a trained child shinobi can easily take down a group of untrained adults. What matters isn't their age—it's their resolve."
He paused, his eyes steady. "And as for our purpose... it's simple. We fight for Japan. For its people, and for our way of life. Even in the face of unimaginable danger and sacrifice... we, as shinobi, will do what must be done to keep the shadows from swallowing the light."
Shino, too, remained still, her expression unreadable. Something in Eichi's declaration stirred the long-suppressed instincts in her blood. Duty. Loyalty. Sacrifice. Not as a fantasy from storybooks—but as a living burden.
Finally, Isshin exhaled. "You sound like the old era's ghosts," he muttered, "but perhaps that's what we need now." He sat down slowly beside the scroll and the training draft, resting his hands on his knees. "If this is truly to be done... then we will do it properly. The children will be tested. Not only in skill—but in will. And they will not be sent to die without knowing what they're dying for."
Eichi nodded. "Thank you."
Shino's gaze lingered on him. "And what if the world starts to notice?"
Eichi met her eyes, silent.
"We may not be widely known to the public," Isshin started, "but the government… they know. We've worked with them. Contracts, quiet requests. They look the other way when we make problems disappear. And in return, they help cover up certain... accidents."
"Wait," Shino said, blinking. "Contracts?"
Isshin looked to her. "Of course. You think we've survived this long just off the grid?"
He crossed his arms. "We're not outlaws, Shino. We're just not officially part of their system. Sometimes they need results that heroes can't deliver. That's where we come in. Clean, silent, efficient."
"But not always clean," Eichi muttered. "There's blood. There's always blood."
Shino looked between them, something shifting behind her gaze. "Then I want in."
Isshin turned sharply. "Shino—"
"I want in," she repeated. "You said I wasn't ready before. That I was too reckless. Maybe I was. But if this is the path forward... I want to walk it."
Eichi stared at her for a moment, then gave a sigh. "I feel a sense of deja-vu somehow. Alright, let's go now."