Ryu let out a silent sigh of relief. The two most dangerous individuals in the world—Danzo Shimura and Orochimaru—had finally left. He wondered, "If I hadn't been gravely ill, I would be drafted to Root, just like Kabuto." His brief respite ended abruptly when Dr. Yuki's voice, sharp with annoyance, cut through his thoughts: "What are you doing in my private office?"
Ryu braced for the inevitable scolding. "I just wanted to read. Proper books with actual knowledge, not the children's fairy tales Hiroto gave me earlier."
Dr. Yuki looked at him with surprise and, after a moment of silence, said, "Kid, go play outside and don't create trouble for the elders. This is not the right time for you to pursue knowledge," she added as she got up.
Ryu sighed. "Right time? I don't have any kind of time, Dr. Yuki." He looked at her, his voice unwavering and full of confidence. "Knowledge is the answer to most of our problems. If nobody has figured out a solution to a problem, then nobody has tried well enough yet. The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing." He quoted the famous Einstein from his old world. Yuki blinked, momentarily stunned by the conviction in the small boy's voice.
"You talk big for a brat," she finally said. With a speck of sadness, she reminded him, "You heard them. You don't have much time left."
"I already knew it. But I want to look for answers." His stoic acceptance of the grim reality surprised Dr. Yuki, who was accustomed to witnessing despair.
"How can you be so calm about this?" she asked, her voice a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Most children your age would be..."
"Scared? Crying?" Ryu finished for her. He shrugged, a gesture that seemed oddly mature on his small frame. "Being afraid won't change anything. I'd rather use the time I have left to learn, to understand my condition."
Yuki then replied, "Then you already know that all the possible treatments have failed."
Ryu looked at her. "Nothing has changed, even on my deathbed. Curiosity, the greatest fuel, never runs dry." He quoted another famous mathematician from his old world, Dr. Evelyn Walsh.
Dr. Yuki's eyes widened, impressed by Ryu's insight and the world of thought he represented. With a faint smile, she remarked, "You are quite the philosopher." She then started leaving the room, and while at the door, she said, "Do what you want, kid."
As Dr. Yuki ventured out of her office, she carried with her a newfound admiration for Ryu, a young soul facing the inevitable with bravery and an insatiable appetite for knowledge.
She left him to his own devices and, immediately, located the caretaker, who quickly explained that he had granted Ryu access to the office, saying the boy was "deadly serious about learning." The caretaker also mentioned Ryu's keen deduction powers. Already surprised by the boy's calmness in the face of impending doom, Dr. Yuki now found herself marveling at his intelligence.
"How long has he been like this?" Dr. Yuki asked, her voice low.
The caretaker answered, "I don't know, really. At first, we thought it was just shock from his illness, but... his eyes are different. They look right through you, like he's seeing a dozen moves ahead. There's something special about him."
Dr. Yuki nodded and said, "Keep a close eye on him. And let me know if you notice anything else unusual."
The next day, the Root Ninjas arrived promptly to collect the carefully chosen children for their rigorous training. Anxiety and excitement were mixed together in the air. The children, overjoyed to finally feel like they belonged somewhere, were unaware of the terrible fate awaiting them under the harsh rules of Root Division. Children gave each other farewell hugs while some fought back tears and others laughed. The Root Ninjas stood waiting, their masked faces showing no emotion.
Dr. Yuki watched from the window of her office, her hands clenched into fists. She was overwhelmed by sadness, all too aware that the Root Division's demanding trials would strip these gullible kids of their innocence. Every fibre of her being screamed to intervene, to protect these young souls from being molded into emotionless weapons. But she knew, with a sinking heart, that such action would only bring more suffering.
The reputation of Root Division was known everywhere. Their training was the hardest and most gruelling, designed to push members to their physical and mental limits to produce resolute, emotionless warriors prepared to sacrifice anything for their mission.
Ryu could hear one of the kids who wasn't selected saying, "I wish I was also selected. I also wanted to be a ninja." Ryu thought, 'This kid dodged a bullet. Joining the Root Division means risking your life and losing your freedom. The civilian life may be challenging, but at least you retain your autonomy and safety.'
One child, Mikasa, was among those selected by the Root Division. She moved toward Ryu, forcing a brave smile that didn't quite hide the fear in her eyes. "Don't worry, Ryu. I will become strong for the both of us. Strong enough to ultimately lead the life I desire." Her voice wavered slightly. Ryu felt his heart tighten, acknowledging the courage in her words. Weak don't get to choose how they live or die. Ryu's previous words clearly lingered in her mind. He watched, shocked and saddened, knowing that Root would soon strip her of her emotions, turning a good kid into a compliant tool—a killer who only followed orders, assuming she survived the graduation.
Ryu was powerless at the moment. Unable to alter her fate, he could only offer silent prayers for Mikasa's well-being, hoping she would endure the dehumanizing process that awaited her.
Before the Root Ninja led her away, Mikasa hesitated, tears finally winning the battle as she rushed into Ryu's embrace, her sobs dampening his worn shirt. Ryu held her tightly, feeling her small body shake. He couldn't hold back now. Crying, he whispered, "The next time we meet, I will be strong. I'll be a man." She pulled back, tears streaming but a genuine smile breaking through. "Idiot, you already are a man."
Ryu stood silent, a witness to the harsh realities of their world. In that fleeting moment of parting, a silent vow was made—a promise to become stronger and wiser. As Mikasa was led away, Ryu watched her go, his heart heavy with the weight of his promise. He knew the odds were against him, but in that moment, he made another silent vow—to fight, to survive, to find a way to keep his word.
Dr. Yuki silently observed the torrent of emotions, concealing her sorrow beneath a stoic mask. She turned back and told the caretaker to watch over the remaining children. With a heavy heart, Yuki retreated to her office, avoiding the children's gaze to hide her tears. Once alone, she allowed her composure to crumble. Tears streamed down her face as she slumped into her chair, the weight of her helplessness crushing down on her. Whispering to the empty room, she expressed her deep regret, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect all of you."