Renji lay in the quiet room, his gaze softening as it rested on Indra's sleeping face. His little brother's arms clutched the blanket tightly, chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm.
'What if I die in this war…?' The thought gnawed at him, surfacing again and again like a splinter lodged in his mind. 'Who will stay by his side then? Who will protect him?'
The unease tightened in his chest, and he exhaled slowly. He could only pin his hopes on Nawaki. That boy's cheerfulness, his helpful nature—it made Renji believe, if only for a moment, that maybe Indra would still have someone reliable when he was gone.
'Why can't more people be like him?' Renji wondered bitterly. 'Why can't people simply… avoid war, live in peace, laugh together?'
But deep down, he already knew the answer. Such ideals had no place in their world. War was nothing more than a gambling table, and shinobi were the currency. If your village rolled the dice right, you won lands, borders, resources. If not—your men died, and you lost everything.
Borders. That was what these battles were for. Borders that dictated which village could feed its people, and which would starve.
Renji's mind turned, recalling the records he had studied in the clan library, records that only those with the three-tomoe Sharingan were permitted to access. They spoke of Madara Uchiha failing to take the title of Hokage, Hashirama Senju instead rising to that position. Hashirama had tried to prevent wars, handing eight of the nine tailed beasts to other nations, as though scattering power could preserve peace.
But in Renji's mind, a different vision flickered. What if one village held them all? What if all nations were united under one banner, ruled not by fragile alliances but true control? Wouldn't that stop the endless wars?
The idea felt dangerous. The more he thought it, the more uneasy he became.' If I rise too high, if I grow too famous on the battlefield… won't they start targeting me?'
He reached out and gently ruffled Indra's hair, forcing the thoughts away. His brother stirred slightly but didn't wake. Renji smiled faintly.' I'll think of something… I have to.'
For the first time in a few days, he felt a small sense of peace, and soon sleep claimed him.
...
Morning sunlight crept into their home. Renji rose quietly from the futon, careful not to wake Indra. He stood for a moment, watching his brother's sleeping face, and his heart softened all over again.
(Guys, question. Is a futon also called a bed?)
He washed up quickly, tied on an apron, and stepped into the kitchen. The pan hissed as he poured in oil, the sound filling the house.
Szzz!
An egg cracked neatly onto the hot surface, yolk settling in place. He sprinkled salt, flipped it with practiced ease, then repeated the process until two sunny-side-up eggs sat on separate plates. Soon, bacon strips sizzled in the pan, their aroma rich and savory. He placed four slices on each plate and arranged the meal neatly on the table.
"Indra!" he called out.
…No response.
Renji rolled his eyes slightly. Louder this time: "Indra!"
"Uh… coming!" A drowsy voice answered back. A few moments later, Indra shuffled past him, hair messy, heading straight into the washroom.
Renji chuckled to himself and set the plates down. By the time Indra returned, his eyes clearer, they sat together to eat.
Halfway through the meal, Renji spoke, "Indra, today we'll go meet Nawaki-senpai. All right?"
Indra paused, chopsticks in his hand, before nodding. "When?"
Renji replied. "After the academy."
They finished eating together, and then Renji walked his little brother all the way to the academy gates. Kneeling down to Indra's height, he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Indra smiled brightly and gave one back without hesitation.
Renji stood, watching him walk toward the building. His voice was steady, even if his heart wasn't. "Study well, Indra."
And with that, the day began.
"Yes! Nii-san!" Indra called out brightly, waving to Renji before turning toward the academy.
He pushed open the classroom door just a crack, then slipped inside—only to feel every pair of eyes snap to him at once.
The air was heavy. Several students lay groaning on the floor, and at the center of it all was a girl with fiery red hair whipping through the air, her fists clenched.
"Umm…" Indra's voice wavered as his nervous gaze darted around the room. Noticing kushinas gaze he stepped back"Maybe… wrong class?"
"Indra!" Noboru half-yelled, half-whispered, his expression pale.
Indra blinked, confused. He walked over to his friends, Carefully. only to find Minato and Noboru's faces drained of color. Kushina's eyes, however, remained locked on him, sharp and unrelenting.
"What's wrong…?" he asked, voice cautious.
Minato swallowed hard before whispering, "Someone told Kushina… that you said her hair looks like a tomato."
Noboru added nervously, "And… that you called her a barbarian."
Indra froze. "…What? How could I ever say that? You don't actually believe that rumor, do you?"
Neither Minato nor Noboru dared reply. Their eyes shifted past Indra, filled with silent warning.
Indra's shoulders slumped. "…She's behind me, isn't she."
A heartbeat later, a fist crashed down on his head. A lump the size of a goose egg rose instantly, and Kushina snorted, flipping her hair as she marched back to her seat.
Silence spread across the classroom like fire on dry leaves. No one dared laugh.
Indra rubbed his aching scalp, muttering under his breath, "This world… shall know pain…"
Minato leaned toward Noboru. "Did you hear that?"
"Poor guy…" Noboru whispered back, both casting him looks of pity.
The door slid open with a skrrrt. Daiki strode in, his sharp eyes immediately catching the battered kids and then narrowing at Kushina, who sat smugly with her arms crossed.
Suppressing a sigh, Daiki clapped his hands. "Everyone, take out your math books!"
"Today's question—twenty-five divided by two!"
"Ten!"
"Twelve!"
"Thirteen!"
The room erupted in chaos, answers flying everywhere. Daiki ignored them and called out, "Kushina. The answer?"
"...Twelve point five," she replied, deadpan.
"Correct," Daiki said with a nod before throwing another challenge. "Now then—one hundred eighty divided by three! Whoever gets it right will receive… a special reward."
The word "reward" lit up the room. Excited murmurs filled the air.
"Seventy!"
"Ninety!"
"Eighty!"
"Hundred twenty!"
"Sensei, it's sixty," came Indra's calm voice, almost drowned beneath the chaos.
Daiki raised his hand. "The correct answer has been spoken."
Gasps spread through the class. Kids started arguing, but Daiki silenced them with a glance. "The correct answer was given by Uchiha Indra. Repeat it, please."
"Sixty."
Daiki nodded. "Good. Now then—whoever struck Indra earlier will sit outside for the entire class and lose their outdoor practice privileges."
Indra rubbed the lump on his head, considering. Then he asked, voice almost polite, "Kushina… would you tell me who spread that I insulted your—beautiful—hair?"
A faint blush colored Kushina's cheeks before she jabbed a finger at the culprit.
"Sir! It was Haruto!" Indra called out instantly.
Daiki's gaze snapped to the chubby boy. "Haruto. Out."
Haruto stood, glaring daggers at Indra as he stomped toward the door.
Watching him leave, Minato muttered, "So in some way… you actually won against Haruto."
"Technically, he won," Noboru added quickly.
Indra smirked. "I'm the best. No need to tell me twice."
Indra's eyes darted to the haruto leaving the classroom' what an idiot...didn't even argue back, he surely didn't hear what the sensei spoke'
Indra shrugged 'its not got anything to do with me anyway...'
---
When the academy ended and the students spilled into the streets, Indra turned to his friends. "Minato, Noboru—no training today. You two go on without me."
"Awww…" Noboru slumped. "It'd be better with you."
Minato gave a faint smile. "We'll manage."
And with that, Indra headed home, the faint throb on his head reminding him of the chaos called Kushina Uzumaki.