"Come here, Shiro. I'll take you back to your mother, don't worry, I won't hurt you." Daichi stretched his hands out slowly, approaching the black cat perched on the wall. Shiro's tail swished lazily, golden eyes half-lidded in boredom.
With only half a metre left, Daichi's lips curled into a grin. 'Finally… I'll catch him this time.'
He lunged.
Shiro blinked once, smugness flickering across his feline face. In the next instant, the cat vanished in a blur and reappeared neatly on the ground near Kazeo.
Daichi, who had already thrown himself forward, couldn't stop his momentum. He crashed face-first on the other side of the wall with a painful thud.
"Pfft—" Ren let out the faintest laugh before smothering it, his usual stoic expression snapping back in place.
Groaning, Daichi scrambled back on top of the wall, rubbing his forehead. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Shiro happily brushing against Kazeo's legs, purring like they were old friends.
"Damnit… why do we even have to take this stupid mission? He always goes straight to Kazeo for no reason. And seriously—who keeps a ninja cat as a pet if they can't even handle it themselves?"
Itachi's calm voice cut through Daichi's complaints. "How many times do I need to tell you? Control your tongue. That 'ninja cat' belongs to the Daimyo's wife. If anyone overheard your whining, the consequences wouldn't be small."
Ren chimed in, "Yeah, also—this is training. You've been chasing him for a week and still haven't managed to catch him once."
Daichi shot back, frustration in his tone. "How am I supposed to catch him? This freaky cat uses body flicker! And on top of that, we're forced to wear this seal that restricts our breathing. Only God knows where Kazeo even found this stupid thing."
The moment the word freaky slipped out, Shiro's fur bristled. The cat's ears flattened and it let out a sharp growl, glaring at Daichi like he'd just declared war.
Kazeo calmly crouched, patting Shiro's head. "Easy, Shiro, don't get mad. He's just upset because he couldn't catch you. Honestly, you should be proud—you're so fast that he can't even touch you."
The cat's demeanor flipped instantly. Shiro purred loudly, springing up onto Kazeo's shoulder and curling its tail around his neck.
Daichi pointed an accusing finger. "See, sensei? Look how he acts with Kazeo. When I try to pat him, he bites me! Kazeo's definitely feeding him behind our backs." His eyes narrowed suspiciously at his teammate.
Kazeo only shrugged, his usual easy smile in place. "What can I say? Animals just love me."
"Enough chatter," Itachi interrupted, his voice firm as he clapped his hands once. "The mission's over. We'll return Shiro to his owner. But until we reach the mission hall, not one of you touches the ground or the rooftops. Slip even once, and you'll be running five laps around Konoha before you go home."
The three genin immediately straightened. "Yes!"
Shiro let out a small meow, comfortably perched on Kazeo's shoulder, as if mocking Daichi one last time.
On the way back, Ren spoke up, his voice steady as always. "Sensei… it's been two months since we started training under you. When will we finally get missions outside the village? I think we're ready."
Daichi immediately chimed in, unable to hold himself back. "Yeah, sensei! We're more than ready. Just take us out already—I haven't even seen what it's like outside Konoha!" He leaned back dramatically while walking on the wall, only to lose balance. His arms flailed. "Ah—dammit, why me?!"
Before he could crash to the ground, Kazeo grabbed him by the collar with one hand. With the other, he pressed his palm down. "Wind Style: Gale Palm!"
A burst of air cushioned their fall, lifting both of them a meter above the ground. Kazeo twisted mid-air and released another blast to his left, launching them safely toward the nearest wall. They landed with a controlled thud.
Daichi let out a huge sigh of relief. "Phew… Thanks, Kazeo. You saved my skin again. I was already picturing myself running five laps alone."
Itachi appeared beside them, calm as ever. "Good reflexes, Kazeo." Then his eyes shifted to Daichi. "As for you… until you can catch Shiro on your own and fully master wall-walking, there will be no missions outside the village."
Ren clicked his tongue quietly. "Tch… not this again." His words were low, but sharp enough for everyone to hear.
Daichi froze, his head dipping. His voice came out softer than usual. "…I'll work on it, sensei."
Itachi turned to Ren, his tone sharper now. "Ren. He is your teammate. In real missions, he'll be the one standing next to you when things turn critical. He's slower than you, yes—but he will catch up. Don't dismiss him."
Ren's jaw tightened. "…Sorry, sensei." He sped up a step, running ahead.
Kazeo gave Daichi's shoulder a light pat before jogging after Ren. Daichi clenched his fists, then followed as well.
Soon, they reached the exam centre and handed Shiro back. The sixty percent of reward was split evenly between the genins and Itachi left for some work. In the meantime, Daichi couldn't help noticing the cat's reluctance. Shiro clung to Kazeo until the Daimyo's wife's trainer arrived. The moment the trainer appeared, Shiro's smugness vanished—his tail tucked in tight as he scurried back, ears flat with fear.
Daichi smirked for the first time that day, his mood lifting instantly. He turned to Kazeo. "You know, this is the only part of this mission I actually enjoy—watching him tuck his tail like that instead of giving me that smug look every time I fail to catch him."
Kazeo chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Come on, don't take it so personally. He's just a cat."
"Yeah, I know…" Daichi sighed, scratching the back of his head. "But it still stings. Every time I see his face after I mess up, it feels like he's mocking me. If it weren't for this damn seal, I swear I'd have caught him already." He tapped his chest for emphasis, puffing it slightly.
Changing the subject, Daichi leaned closer. "Anyway, I think I've gotten better at changing taste and smell—two senses down. What about you?"
Kazeo answered casually, "I can change two at once now. Tried it yesterday on a genin at Yakiniku Q."
Daichi's eyes widened. "Two? Already? Just a few days ago you mastered all three! …Wait, hold on. Didn't sensei warn us not to use it on other shinobi?"
Ren finally spoke up, his voice sharp. "Yeah, Kazeo. Sensei told us clearly not to mess with villagers or shinobi inside the village. Why'd you do it?"
Kazeo shrugged, looking unconcerned. "Relax. Sensei only said if we get caught, he won't cover for us during questioning. That genin was off-duty anyway, and I trusted myself. Even if he noticed, I could've slipped away."
Daichi let out a small laugh, half amused, half exasperated. "You really don't care about rules, huh… Anyway, enough training talk for today. Let's go to Domino's, I heard they had a new recipe again, let's try it—it's on me."
Kazeo shook his head. "Not today. Got some things to take care of." Without another word, he started walking home.
Daichi watched him leave and muttered to Ren, "Bet his 'things' are just more training. Sometimes I wonder if he even does anything else." He sighed after some seconds. "Well, guess I can't slack off either. If I do, I'll fall even further behind you guys. We'll eat out some other day."
Ren gave a small nod, and the two of them went their separate ways as well.
On his way home, Kazeo passed by the Domino's shop, surprisingly quiet in the afternoon. He thought, 'People still prefer homemade or traditional food for lunch, huh…' He glanced at the nearly empty tables and smiled to himself. 'Still, it became a hit almost immediately after launching last month, especially among the younger crowd. Good thing the Hokage managed to convince—or maybe force—Choza Akimichi to sign that contract. Conditions shifted a little, but mostly, it worked in my favor. At this pace, even a twenty percent cut could rack up an insane amount of money in a year.'
A few minutes later, he arrived home. As he stepped into his room, his clone was already waiting.
"Food's on the table," he greeted and said.
Kazeo nodded and started changing his clothes. "Any progress today?"
The clone shook its head. "No. We tried, but couldn't get past five strings. That training Itachi gave is… very precise. It'll probably take us nearly a month to control the next string."
Kazeo's brow furrowed. "A month, huh… The missions outside the village will probably start this month or next. Did you consider any additional exercises to increase the number of strings we can control?"
"I don't know. Anyway, my time's almost up. See if you can find anything useful in my memory," the clone said, then puffed into smoke.
Kazeo thanked him and braced for the slight headache, which lasted less than twenty seconds as all his memories reorganized. He remained seated on the ground, taking a moment to steady himself, then stood after a few minutes.
As he straightened up, his eyes fell on some drawing sheets sprawled under the dining table. He bent down and picked them up, muttering to himself, I told him before leaving to clean these up and put them inside the cover… Still, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. I can't believe I made these with just a little practice.
He flipped through each page, feeling satisfaction in the small strokes and careful lines. Now I can definitely say I have hobbies in this world. It's good that I started drawing last month.
Memories of how it all began came back. It had started randomly—he'd felt an urge to draw one of the black cats that had been visiting his home for the past few years. The first drawing had been decent, but nowhere near as realistic as his current ones. Recently, he'd started using his nearly photographic memory to observe and replicate every detail.
In the past month, he'd even challenged himself further, deciding to draw the mangas he had read in his previous life. He wasn't sure whether he would sell them or keep them for himself, but it was a start.
After carefully arranging the sheets, Kazeo took a bath, feeling the water wash away the fatigue from the day. Once refreshed, he made his way to the fuinjutsu department, ready to start learning some new seals from today.
-------
Same day, it was late at night. The houses along the street had fallen silent long ago, but Daichi was still in the backyard. A wooden tub of water sat before him, its surface catching the pale glow of the moon. He sat cross-legged, breathing steady, hands hovering above the water.
He raised one hand slowly. A strand of water lifted from the tub, stretching upward like a thin rope. His eyes stayed locked on it, fingers twitching as he tried to split it into finer threads—thin enough to wrap around the nearby tree trunk multiple times.
Itachi-sensei's voice echoed in his mind: "Make the water obey you like it's part of your body. Remember, your chakra reserves are low currently so focus on precision over power."
Daichi bit his lip. His chakra wasn't exceptional. Every morning, it drained from the day's training, and by the time it recovered, the sun had already set again. If he wanted to keep up, he had no choice but to practice in the dark like this—and even then, he couldn't push his chakra to the limit, or it wouldn't recover in time for morning.
The water wavered under his control, shaking. Sweat rolled down his temple as he gritted his teeth. 'Just a little more…'
Then something shifted. For a moment, he thought his own reflection stared back from the tub—but the face wasn't his.
The water surface rippled even though the night air was still. The faint shimmer of the moonlight bent, and for an instant, the clear water in the tub looked darker… heavier, like it was thickening.
Daichi blinked hard. His fingers trembled. "No… it's not…"
But when he looked again, the water seemed to darken, a faint reddish tint curling upward like smoke. His breath hitched, and the strand he was holding collapsed into a splash, wetting the ground.
He jerked back, his chest tightening as his breathing grew unsteady. He didn't want to look, but his eyes kept dragging toward the tub again.
The man's face was still there, floating just beneath the surface, mouth half-open like he was about to speak. The eyes didn't blink. They just stared.
Daichi's throat tightened. He tore his gaze away, squeezing his eyes shut. "No. It's not real. It's not real, it's just me," he whispered, his voice breaking.
But when he opened his eyes, for a split second the tub still looked like it was filled with blood. He froze, his whole body tense, before it cleared into nothing but water again.
He let out a shaky sigh and dragged his hands down his face. His palms were clammy, his heart still pounding.
"Why do I keep seeing him?" His words came out quiet, uneven. "He was a criminal… he hurt people. He deserved it. Then why… why won't he go away?"
It had started after that first kill. At first it was only echoes — muffled voices, pleas he could almost ignore. Then after Itachi had stopped covering their mouths, and Daichi had been forced to listen to every word, to see every desperate expression before the end.
Those eyes followed him now. Every time he touched water at night, every time he tried to focus. The blood, the pleading, the way they looked at him like he was the monster.
Daichi pressed his nails into his palm until it stung. His chest rose and fell in short bursts.
"Damn it…" He turned and slammed his fist against the tree trunk. The sound was dull, heavy in the quiet night. His hand ached, but it didn't make the image leave.
For a long moment, he stood there, breathing hard, his back to the tub.
Then he heard it — his father's voice calling from behind.
"Daichi!"
----
The small room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles flickering against the wooden walls. Incense smoke curled upward, carrying a faint fragrance that clung to the air. In front of a framed photograph, a man sat in silence, his broad shoulders slightly hunched.
That man was Kurogane Hiroshi.
His gaze lingered on the smiling face in the photo — a woman with gentle eyes. He pressed his hands together, whispered a prayer, and let out a heavy sigh.
"Hana…" His voice was low, roughened with guilt. "I don't even know what to say anymore. I feel like my bond with Daichi is slipping away. These days… we barely talk. He spends all his time training. Today, his neighbor friends came to invite him, and just like before, he turned them down. Said he didn't have time to play."
Hiroshi rubbed his temple, forcing a bitter smile. "I can't help but feel it's my fault. Always away, always busy with the shop… maybe that's why he's shutting himself away." He let his eyes wander around the room, then back to the photo. "The shop we built together here in Konoha is doing well. I should be satisfied, right? But no… I keep pushing, keep traveling, trying to expand. All so that one day, when Daichi is old enough, he won't have to struggle. He'll inherit everything. He'll live easier than I did."
His voice cracked. "But am I doing the right thing, Hana? Or am I just… losing my son along the way? Haah...If only you were here… you'd know what to say. If only that demon hadn't taken you that day…"
The words trailed off. His eyes grew damp, and he quickly wiped them with the back of his hand. Just then, a faint thudding echoed from outside — fists striking wood. Hiroshi stiffened, glancing at the clock: 10 p.m.
"This kid…" He exhaled, half in frustration, half in worry. "Still training this late?"
He wiped his face clean with a towel, straightened himself in the mirror, and headed out. His voice carried into the night air as he slid open the door:
"Daichi!"
No reply. He called again, louder this time.
Daichi's shoulders jolted. He had heard it, but his feet felt heavy, frozen. His mind raced: Did he see? Did he notice?
Slowly, he turned. "F-Father… you're still awake?"
"That should be my question." Hiroshi stepped closer, brows furrowed. "Why are you still training this late? You were just standing there like a statue. What's wrong?"
Daichi forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck without meeting his father's eyes. "Nothing… really. I was just thinking… about training."
Hiroshi studied him quietly. "Hm. Well, either way, it's late. You should sleep. Don't you have training tomorrow morning?"
Daichi lowered his eyes. "Um… tomorrow's Sunday. Sensei doesn't come."
"Oh." Hiroshi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So it is. Guess age really is catching up to me." He smiled, then grew serious again. "Even so, you should sleep early. The body doesn't recover without rest."
"I'll go in a little while, Father. I just want to finish this." Daichi sat back down, pulling water into a thin bubble.
Hiroshi watched for a moment, then turned back inside. But he stopped at the doorway, a weight on his chest he couldn't shake. He went back, quietly standing behind Daichi.
The boy was shaping a thin strand from the water bubble, face tense with concentration. A soft sigh escaped him. He couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. 'Stubborn… just like Hana.'
Hiroshi watched for a moment, then spoke.
"Daichi, your friends came again this evening, didn't they?"
Daichi flinched but kept his focus. "…Yeah. Shira and Mitsu."
"And you didn't go with them."
"No."
"Why?"
"I had to train," Daichi answered too quickly. "I don't have time to waste playing."
Hiroshi frowned. "Waste? Playing with friends isn't a waste, son. You're still twelve. Once you're grown, you won't get those moments back. Training will always be there. But playing with your friends? That's now, or never."
Daichi's hands tightened, and the strand of water collapsed back into the tub. "I said I'm fine. Please just… let me train." His tone carried a flicker of irritation.
Hiroshi stayed quiet, watching his son's hunched back. Then he crouched down, leveling himself with him. "Daichi," he said softly. "Look at me."
Daichi didn't move.
"Son. Tell me what's really going on. Why have you been pushing yourself like this for months now?"
"…I told you already. I just want to get better."
"Daichi." Hiroshi's voice was calm but firm. "I know when you're lying. Don't hide it from me."
The boy's hands trembled. He kept his gaze on the ground, lips pressed tightly together. The silence stretched.
"…There's nothing else," Daichi muttered, his voice thin. "I just don't want to stop training."
Hiroshi sighed, then moved closer, gently resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "You don't have to tell me everything at once. But I won't leave until you do."
Daichi's throat bobbed. His eyes grew wet, but he turned his face away quickly, trying to hide it.
Minutes passed in silence. Finally, his voice cracked. "Because… I can't fall behind."
Hiroshi blinked. "…Fall behind? Who?"
Daichi swallowed hard. His voice trembled as he whispered, "Ren. And Kazeo."
Hiroshi tilted his head. "Them? But they're your teammates, aren't they? Are they—" he hesitated, "—bullying you? Using their clan names?"
"No," Daichi said quickly. "Ren barely talks, and Kazeo's a civilian, just like us. They don't look down on me. But… they're still way ahead. I can't keep up with them."
Hiroshi frowned. "What do you mean?"
Daichi squeezed his fists. "They're… they're always better than me. Ren never loses in taijutsu… and Kazeo… he learns ninjutsu and genjutsu like it's nothing. And I—" His breath hitched. "I can't even make this stupid water move right."
His eyes welled up, but he quickly rubbed them with the back of his arm, as if ashamed.
Hiroshi's chest tightened. He didn't interrupt, letting the boy force the words out.
"I don't wanna be left behind, Father." Daichi's voice shook, "If I stop even for one day, they'll be ahead forever. And then… then no one will even look at me. I'll just be… nothing."
The last word broke something in him. His small shoulders began to shake as he fought to keep the tears in.
Hiroshi let out a long, quiet breath. He placed both hands on Daichi's shoulders, steady but warm.
"Daichi… listen to me." His tone was calm, firm enough to cut through the boy's trembling. "You are not nothing. You are my son. And no matter how far ahead Ren or Kazeo go, you'll never be worthless. Do you understand?"
Daichi shook his head, tears spilling now. "You don't get it! They're stronger, faster, smarter—everyone knows it! Even the sensei say it! I'm always the one catching up, always… always—" His words dissolved into sobs.
Hiroshi didn't stop him. He pulled Daichi closer, letting the boy's forehead press against his chest. The sobs were muffled now, dampening the fabric of his clothes.
Daichi tried to speak through his crying, but the words broke apart into hiccups. Hiroshi just held him tighter, letting the storm run its course.
Minutes passed. Slowly, Daichi's sobs had quieted, his breaths evening out against his father's chest. Hiroshi sat still, rubbing slow circles on his son's back, letting the silence linger before speaking.
"Daichi," Hiroshi said softly, his voice almost a whisper, "do you remember back in the academy, when you told everyone you wanted to join the elite class? Your friends… even our relatives… they all said it was too hard. That you wouldn't make it."
Daichi's small fingers tightened around his father's sleeve. He didn't lift his head, but Hiroshi could tell he was listening.
"But do you remember what you did?" Hiroshi leaned a little closer. "You went in, alone, and proved them all wrong. You earned your place in the elite class… right in front of all your friends."
"Ren, Kazeo… your friends will have their own strengths," Hiroshi continued, lowering his voice, as if sharing a secret meant only for his son. "But you, Daichi… your strength will always be this: you never give up. No matter how many times life pushes you down. If you can hold on to that, you'll be stronger than even you realize."
Daichi's lips trembled. A sniff escaped, barely audible. "…But… it hurts, Father. Every time I see them ahead of me… it hurts here." His tiny fist pressed against his chest, over his heart.
Hiroshi's own chest ached at the sight, but he smiled gently. "That hurt, son… it's proof that you care. And caring… that's what will push you forward. Let it drive you. Let it fuel you. But never… never let it break you."
Daichi slowly lifted his face, eyes swollen and damp. "…Will I really be enough one day?"
Hiroshi brushed the boy's hair back, his thumb wiping away the last of the tears. "You already are. You just don't see it yet."
The words seemed to soften Daichi's shoulders. His eyes fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, until he finally drifted off, asleep in his father's arms.
Hiroshi sat there for a long time, gazing at the boy's sleeping face. His mind replayed Daichi's trembling words — I don't wanna be left behind.
A quiet guilt settled over him. How many nights had Daichi been pushing himself like this, alone, while he was away on business? How many times had the boy broken down with no one to see it?
'Here I was… thinking only about his future, while I ignored his present. Hana… I've failed as a father, haven't I?' he thought and exhaled, a long, tired sigh.
"…No more," he murmured under his breath.
He tightened his embrace just a little, as if sealing his decision. "I won't leave you like this again, Daichi. Not for work, not for anything. Business can wait. What's the point of money if I can't even be here for you when you need me? From now on… I'll be here. Always."
The night was still, the only sound Daichi's steady breathing. Hiroshi leaned back a little, holding his son close, as if anchoring himself to the choice he had just made.
For the first time in years after his late wife's death, he felt that maybe staying home… was where he was needed most.
[ Thanks for supporting me Bin Wadid and Tsvetomir Dechev.
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