The stranger who had accompanied Yuki to the orphanage had a face that immediately caught Ryu's attention. He was drawn to the man's features, noticing the similar eye and hair color—the distinct shade seemed to reflect in one of the man's eyes, to be precise. It was like glimpsing an older, possible version of himself, a future he had never planned for.
The newcomer was equally stunned, staring at Ryu with an intensity that mirrored the boy's own perplexity.
Yuki entered the hall, having heard the commotion but choosing to let Ryu handle the conflict with Kaito. She cleared her throat and spoke first: "Ryu, this is Dan Hamura. An old friend of mine."
She then turned to Dan, gesturing toward the boy. "This is Ryu."
Ryu's mind immediately focused on the name. "Hamura…" The name echoed in his thoughts, stirring a profound sense of recognition deep within him.
Meanwhile, Dan's attention was fixed on the emotional intelligence he had just witnessed. He thought, "Such encouraging words, directed at the very person who bullies him daily. The boy possesses an almost unnatural depth of understanding."
As Dan and Yuki felt the scrutiny of the children, Yuki clapped her hands once. "Everybody finish your plate and go to sleep. Don't let me find anyone out of bed." She turned to Ryu. "And you, when you're done eating, come to my office."
Yuki and Dan walked toward the private office. As they moved away, Ryu felt an inexplicable pull toward Dan, as if an invisible, powerful thread connected them across the dining hall.
In the Private Office
Inside the office, the door clicked shut. They took their seats, and after a moment of silence broken only by the settling of dust, Dan finally spoke. "You weren't kidding. The boy is certainly something," Dan remarked, his voice edged with respect and awe.
Dan paused, a shadow crossing his face as he recalled their earlier conversation.
.../Flashback Start/...
"No," Dan stated, his jaw tight with pain. "I can't."
Yuki's voice was gentle but firm. "Dan, the boy needs you. You're the only family he has left."
Dan's gaze softened momentarily. "You know I lost my son and daughter-in-law in the Nine-Tails attack," he said, the words heavy with two decades of sorrow.
"I know," Yuki affirmed.
"Then you know why I can't do this," Dan insisted, shaking his head. "I can't go through that pain again, watching my family... die."
The silence was suffocating. The thought of opening his heart to a child with a death sentence was a burden too crushing to contemplate.
"You still want me to look after the boy," Dan challenged, his voice cracking slightly, "knowing he will die soon, leaving another gaping hole in my heart?"
Yuki leaned forward, her expression resolute. "Dan, the boy is the only thing left of your elder sister, Tsuki."
The name hit Dan with physical force. He stumbled back, gripping the desk for support. "Tsuki…" he breathed out, the name both a long-forgotten memory and a fresh wound.
Dan steadied himself, looking at Yuki with disbelief. "Are you sure about this?"
Yuki presented her evidence. "Meet the boy. The resemblance is uncanny. I already searched the hospital birth records. The boy's name is Ryu, and the mother's name is the same as Tsuki's child. It cannot be a coincidence." Yuki was convinced the boy was the grandson of Dan's long-lost sister, Tsuki, who had been banished years ago.
"Even if he is her grandchild," Dan said, hardening his resolve, "I won't do it."
"Dan, please," Yuki pleaded, her voice quiet but strained. "This isn't about you or me. It's about giving a child a chance to know his family, even if it's just for a short time."
Dan, desperate to avoid the emotional rollercoaster, held up a hand. "Don't make me do this, Yuki. I can't lose another child."
Not giving up, Yuki used her final move. She invoked the name of his long-lost sister once more.
"If you won't do it for me, do it for Tsuki. Just meet the boy once. If you refuse, I'll write a letter to the Hokage stating you are not mentally fit for active missions."
Dan was genuinely shocked.
She continued, her voice low and uncompromising. "You think I don't know you came out of retirement and are taking dangerous missions with the excuse of needing money? As your friend, I cannot let you throw your life away."
Dan's face paled, the threat hitting home. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered, but the uncertainty was clear.
"I would," Yuki replied, her voice solid as steel. "Because I care about you too much to watch you commit suicide by mission."
Dan sighed, his resistance breaking. The memory of his lost son resurfaced. Reluctantly, he said, "Fine. I'll go with you, but don't think for a second I'm agreeing to adopt the boy."
With a heavy heart and doubt clouding his mind, Dan hesitantly agreed to meet the boy, his resolve having finally crumbled under the weight of Yuki's persistence.
.../Flashback End/...
Ryu's quiet presence broke the prolonged silence as he walked into the office. The shared bloodline instantly washed a wave of familiarity over Dan.
Ryu's eyes, sharp and intelligent, darted between the two adults, sensing the heavy atmosphere. "Mother Yuki," he asked softly, "is everything alright?"
Dan was captivated. Ryu's earlier display of deep emotional understanding—comforting the very boy who had been his tormentor—was something Dan hadn't seen in years. It challenged his entire view of a world defined by conflict and loss.
As Dan gazed at the boy, his breath hitched. The familiar sparkle in Ryu's eyes and the distinct shape of his face mirrored his long-lost sister, flooding Dan with memories. Then, in the boy's calm demeanor, he saw an echo of his deceased son.
At that moment, Dan asked the pivotal question. "Why did you say those words to him?"
Dan's voice was low, heavy with emotion, his gaze locked onto Ryu. "I heard he bullies you. It wasn't necessary to cheer him up. Why did you do that?"
Ryu's brow furrowed slightly in thought, his young face taking on an adult seriousness.
He looked up at Dan, his eyes wise beyond his years. "Because," he explained slowly, "everyone deserves a chance to be better than they were yesterday."
Ryu continued, his conviction absolute. "He needed to be set free. Words can be both liberating and enslaving; they can be teachers or tyrants. Kaito wanted to be a ninja like his father. After Root rejected him, he was trapped by shame. I needed him to be free from those emotional shackles and to give up on his dreams on his own terms."
Dan and Yuki were utterly stunned by the clarity and philosophy of his statement.
As Dan listened, a spark ignited—a flicker of hope and possibility. The undeniable, uncanny resemblance to Tsuki, the echoes of a shared history reverberating through time, finally broke his resolve.
Dan closed his eyes, the image of Ryu's calm, defiant face overlaid with his sister Tsuki's mischievous smile, and then, his own son's determined gaze. The boy was not just a reminder of his loss; he was a living, breathing fusion of his entire lost family. He wasn't risking a new wound; he was embracing the only piece of what he'd already lost.
He turned to Yuki, a finality in his posture. "I will do it."
Yuki's eyes widened, a desperate hope blooming in her chest. "You mean...?"
"Yes. I'll take him in." Dan nodded, his gaze unwavering on Ryu. "For however long he needs me, I will be there for him."
"What is going on?" Ryu asked, his confusion now clearly visible as he peered between the two emotional adults.