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Chapter Text

1.

Kyoko Kyriū was not easily impressed.

As a seasoned kunoichi, she had faced things that would have broken lesser warriors—survived battles where hesitation meant death. Yet, as she stood frozen at the doorway, an unfamiliar sensation crawled up her spine.

Fear.

Not of danger, but of something far more unsettling.

Her one-year-old daughter sat on the tatami floor, back straight like a doll carefully placed on display. In her tiny hands, far too large for her delicate fingers, was a chakra scroll. It should have been a toy, something for her to grab, to chew on, to crumple in childish curiosity.

But Yuzuki Kyriū was not like other children.

Her deep emerald eyes, glowing with eerie intensity, scanned the symbols on the parchment—not with the distracted wonder of an infant but with purpose. With understanding.

Kyoko’s breath caught in her throat.

This was impossible.

A child this young should barely be forming coherent words, let alone deciphering the intricate writings of shinobi techniques. And yet, Yuzuki’s gaze followed each character with precise focus, her tiny brow furrowed in something dangerously close to comprehension.

Her fingers twitched.

Then, in a movement far too deliberate to be dismissed as chance, she lifted a hand and traced an invisible curve in the air.

A perfect curve.

The exact pattern drawn on the scroll—a diagram illustrating chakra circulation.

Kyoko felt a chill creep over her skin.

“Satomi,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her husband, occupied at his workbench grinding herbs, barely glanced up.

“Come here.”

There was something in her tone—an urgency that made Satomi pause. He wiped his hands on his apron and approached, following her gaze to the child sitting so still, so utterly absorbed in her task.

And then he saw it.

Yuzuki frowned, her expression twisting in frustration.

With a tiny exhale, she adjusted the way she traced the invisible line in the air. She corrected it.

Refined it.

Satomi let out a slow, shaky breath.

“It’s just coincidence,” Kyoko muttered, but even she could hear the hollowness in her own words.

Because coincidence did not explain the way Yuzuki was looking at them now—how her piercing green eyes met theirs with unsettling clarity. Not like a child.

Like someone watching them.

Like someone studying them.

Her tiny lips parted slightly, as if about to speak—except she had never spoken before. She was still too young.

But there was something in her eyes. Something Kyoko had seen in the most dangerous shinobi.

“She understands.”

Satomi placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, though his own fingers trembled slightly. He was not a ninja, not a warrior, but even he knew this was far beyond natural.

“No.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“She sees .”

2.

Too loud, too loud, too loud….

The little girl grabbed her hair, fingers digging in her scalp and pulling at the strands as they closed. Her eyes were painfully shut, her face scrunched up.

The more she learned… the more she thought. The more she learned, the more words, the more concepts, the more knowledge… her mind fused. Ideas upon ideas piling up and developing next to each other, rolling and rolling like scrolls and getting tangled up because everything kept rolling it never stopped, make it stop !  

She was only two years old when she ended up in a hospital.

Yuzuki shifted uncomfortably on the cold chair, her tiny legs dangling over the edge, unable to reach the floor. Her wide emerald eyes flickered cautiously between her parents and the tall figure in the white coat. Voices hummed around her, low and tense, like bees trapped inside a jar. She gripped her small fists together, fingers digging into her palms as she strained to hear.

"…certainly advanced for her age, but physically there’s nothing abnormal. Her reflexes, her senses—all perfectly normal." The doctor’s voice was steady but puzzled, his dark brows knitted together over concerned eyes.

"But she cries, she screams… she pulls at her hair, doctor," her mother whispered urgently, her voice strained and pleading, the worry in her tone a sharp sting in Yuzuki’s chest. "She’s hurting and we don’t know why."

Her father stood silently beside her mother, his hand squeezing tightly on her shoulder, trying to anchor them both. He looked at Yuzuki, his eyes gentle yet clouded with anxiety. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t pain—not exactly. It was something else, something overwhelming. The words crowded in her throat but never made it past her lips, tangled in the ceaseless whirl of thoughts, scrolls upon scrolls unfurling endlessly in her mind.

The doctor sighed softly, closing his chart with finality. "I'm truly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Kyriū. Her scans show a perfectly healthy brain. There's no physical explanation. Perhaps you could consult a Yamanaka—"

"We… we can’t," her father interrupted quietly, a tremor of frustration slipping into his calm demeanor. "We’re civilians."

"I see," the doctor murmured, his expression softening with sympathy, "then meditation, quiet environments, maybe reduce stimulation. Honestly, at this point, it's the best we can recommend."

Yuzuki’s gaze dropped to her lap, frustration simmering beneath her skin. Her mind raced, scrolls multiplying and unraveling, entangled with the buzzing of voices, theories, worries… She squeezed her eyes shut, the sensation of the scrolls turning relentless, the noise deafening even in the silence of her own head.

Then a gentle touch brushed her shoulder. Her mother knelt down, her face lined with concern, a soft, forced smile gracing her lips.

"We’ll find a way, Yuzuki. I promise," her mother whispered, brushing Yuzuki’s hair back with trembling fingers.

Yuzuki opened her eyes slowly, her tiny chest rising and falling with a shuddering breath. She nodded, unable to voice the confusion, the chaos. Her father’s warm hand wrapped around her own, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. They stood to leave, and as she followed them out into the hall, one thought pierced clearly through the storm in her mind:

There was nothing wrong with her body, she knew that. It was her mind. And if they couldn’t help her, she would simply have to find a way herself.

This morning, her father had woken her up, a gentle hand shaking softly her shoulder, and as soon as consciousness came to her, so did the scrolls . She blinked, watching her father’s mouth move with words she didn’t catch, barely awake and conscious of her surroundings.

Clothes were put on her, her father’s soft voice talking to her. Standing up seemed to push sleepiness away as she tried to focus on her dad and what he was saying. “- … will be fun, I’ll show you all of my plants, and I prepared a comfy bean bag in case you take a nap” he chatted, nervous energy radiating from him.

Her mother was not here anymore to take care of her, so now, her father had to take her place. She didn’t really understand what she was doing in her job, but she was really busy, being a kunoichi, and she had just taken a break after her birth.

“Is it okay Yuki ?” her dad snapped her back from her thoughts, and she focused on letting go of the scrolls that were invinding her mind with thoughts about her mother’s job, her father, the chakra scroll she had read last time… And tens of others that were jumbled in each other, preventing her from reading it, letting her confused instead, bordering on the start of a headache.

She looked at the soft sweat-shirt her dad had made her wear, light blue and big on her, and she nodded. She liked the peaceful color.

A breakfast and some teeth brushing later, she was in her dad’s arms as he walked in the streets to go to his workshop. She didn’t like how noisy it was, didn’t like how smelly it was, and she buried her face in her father’s shoulder to shield herself.

The scrolls were piling up on each other rapidly, unrolling on top of others and jumbling up her line of thought. She started to inspire, count to seven . She kept the air in, count to five . She exhaled, count to seven . That was what her mom told her to do, she called it meditation . Yuzuki didn’t do well for now, but she had only started two days ago.

She focused on her breathing, and especially focused on ignoring the scrolls, letting them unroll by themselves. It was a fascinating concept to her, to simply ignore them . If she ignored them well enough, they ended up disappearing, storing themselves away somewhere she didn’t see.

She came back to herself when she was dropped into something that seemed to swallow her , and she jerked her head toward her father with alarm, but he only smiled softly.

“It’s comfy isn’t it?” he asked her, and she looked down where her body had dug inside the gigantic… pillow ? It was light blue, just like her sweat-shirt, although two shades down.

She closed her eyes, and started to breathe slowly again, trying to get the scrolls away, but something seemed to make new ones come everytime one left. It was strange, she had managed in the noisy streets outside, why didn’t it work now that it was silent ?

It was after a fifth breath that the smell registered. It broke the little dam she had barely built, letting the scroll pile up with a vengeance. Not smell. Smells . Each one belonged to a different plant, and from the… bean bag , she could see the workshop where her father was grinding herbs given away in a glasshouse, sunlight reaching inside from the roof, and lighting dozens of different plants.

She shut her eyes again when the scrolls piling up started to unroll around her, confusing her and splitting her head in two.

Focus . Breathe seven five seven , her mother had told her.

So she did. She vaguely registered her father telling her something, but she couldn’t catch it under the scrolls and the focus to meditate.

She ate, her father putting each spoon in her mouth, the only way to get her to eat because she couldn’t see outside of her mind, she couldn’t interact with it, and her dad was here to do it for her, as her mother did before him, although not like him.

Her mother would make her eat. She would put the spoon in her hand, would move her hand to the plate, then to her mouth. It was extremely uncomfortable and unnatural for her to be moved around this way, and she liked the difference with her dad.

At the end of the day, she hadn’t really improved that much with meditation, but she thought she might have found a clue when a scroll in particular unrolled. Letting her dad feed her, passive, letting things go around her…

She needed to let go of her thoughts. Not ignore, not push… Let go . To let go, she had to acknowledge .

3.
Satomi knew his daughter was special. Special as in intelligent, smart, brilliant… And any other adjectives that meant this.

He was also terribly worried it would mean she would be in perpetual pain, overcome by her own too powerful mind. But of course, Yuzuki was quick to show him the opposite.

The first day he took her with him to work, he had been vaguely horrified to see her sitting in the bean bag for the whole day, unmoving and unresponsive to external stimuli. When it had been time for lunch, he had to feed her by hand, her eyes glazed over staring in empty space.

The second day, he would catch her looking at him, and it was new and unsettling . Her eyes would glaze over in moments, but when she looked at him, he felt a weight , pressing on his shoulder, something purely instinctive sending waves of discomfort.

He got used to it the more she stared, for each passing day seemed to sharpen them a little more until they were piercing emeralds that seemed to study you like an interesting painting… Or bugs.

Still, the second week, she rose from the bean bag, walking to him with unnatural grace for a child her age - Satomi saw enough children running in the village to know that she should be more waddling around than walking, she was only two years old, going on three when June would come.

She was looking at the plant he was moisturizing with a spray with undivided focus. The serious face on her terribly cute face was a funny sight, making his lips twitch upward. It was funny when she wasn’t looking at you .

“It’s called Silverleaf Sage,” he informed her when she didn’t make any other move while she scrutinized the named plant. “It has a calming effect on the mind and body, and you can recognise it with their silvery-green leaves that shimmer in the sunlight. They need it a lot , or they will wither.”

His little girl looked up to him, her eyes glazing over briefly, her little eyebrows frowning before she relaxed, her gaze sharpening on him again.

“Tell me more, please,” she asked him softly with her little childish voice.

Satomi couldn’t say no, (her eyes were a little too intimidating), and he was more than happy to share his knowledge and passion with his daughter. If he was honest with himself, he hoped she would take an interest.

What would she do? What would she become, if she learned about plants and medicinal herbs ? Would she become a pharmacologist like him?

The man shook his head softly, ruffling the matching hair of his daughter and turning back to the Silverleaf Sage.

4.

Yuzuki was overwhelmed but obsessed . Each plant in the glasshouse attenant to the workshop had a name, various properties that were extracted with heat, grinding or cutting or boiling. It was fascinating . 

There were a lot of books in her father’s workshop. Shelfs covered each wall, various glass jars, vials, books and scrolls filling it up to the bream in a secretly organized way.

On first glance, it seemed messy, mixed up, especially without any labels to guide someone. It took a few minutes for her to understand how it was organised, and once she did, she grabbed a big leather book, pulling it with difficulty, compressed between two other voluminous books.

“Let me help you, Yuki,” her father’s soft voice reached her ear as he was bending to grant the book she wanted, and she let go, watching him pull it away with ease. “It’s a little too heavy for you, how about I set it on your desk for you?”

Her father had bought her a little desk he had placed next to her bean bag, letting her rest comfortably and work on her letters.

It was a little boring to learn how to write, but reading had come to her naturally, writing meant movements , and movements were.. hard. Something inside of her compelled her to do it again, and again, and again, and… And then it would stop when it was the perfect way to do it .

It was a little troublesome, especially when you learned to write a language that had hundreds of different letters.

As months passed, more and more books ended up in her hands. Some were larger and heavier than she was, needing her father’s help to move them to her desk, while others seemed made for her, small notebooks filled with the studies of brilliant minds. She read them all, fascinated by the thoughts of others.

She loved the small ones better. Her mind was quieter when she read these notebooks. She was intently focused, her mind morphing to suck up dry knowledge the way it was intended to be transmitted by the writer.

Through hours each day practicing writing, meditation and learning about plants with her father, her mind seemed to nudge . It was hard to describe this kind of sensation. It felt like she was standing on the edge of something, and she didn’t know if she felt small the way it felt when she looked up to the towering figures of her father, or if it was the kind when she was in his arms, looking down and the ground too far.

She was on the edge of something, and she came closer and closer the more she learned.

Her third and fourth birthday passed by, but the concept of time was still a little hard to grasp to her, too often in her own mind to know what was going on around her. She would go outside one day with her father and think : Oh, it’s already winter?

She was so busy she tended to forget her mother. She was barely in the house since she went back to work, and she isolated herself in her room when she was here, pushing her away because she was tired.

It was a little disconcerting to know that her mother didn’t like her, and she didn’t know why. Her father told her he loved her all the time, and it only made more apparent the lack of love from her mother.

When her fingers landed on a notebook in the back of a shelf in the workshop one day, lacking a title like the good ones were, she was surprised to open it and find it… empty. An empty book among hundreds of ones filled with information.

“Oh, it’s one of the notebooks I bought when I was developing a new fever reducer,” her father said behind her shoulder, wiping his hands on a washcloth, smearing it with streaks of green when he dug his fingers in the fabric, probably from a medicine he just made. “It could be yours, if you want it.”

She looked back at the blank pages and her mind shivered, back on the edge.

The first golden scroll of her mind appeared when she was four. It was her thirst to write her own study books. Her own notebooks that would one day be bought as a reference in the field. A golden phrase appeared on top.

Thirst for Knowledge.

This one never disappeared.

5.

Akamaru was the first to smell something unusual. Kiba’s best friend yipped, nose in the air, then barked before running in the surrounding forest, his ears batting in the air.

The Inuzuka clan lived away from the city, closer to the wall than most, and hectares of forest surrounded the compound.

By nature, the clan members were sensitive to smell and noise, and the city was full of both.

It meant it was an absolute novelty to the four years old boy to know an outsider was close to his clan’s compound as he followed after the little dog, calling out for him to wait. His friend’s small size allowed him to pass through bushes easily, while the boy had to push away the branches in his way.

When he came across yet another bush, he discovered an old training field, clearly abandoned as weeds grew in the hard dirt, eating away at the corners and spreading in little tuffs here and there across the field.

There was also a girl.

She was sitting in seiza, her hand resting by her side, her eyes closed, face bare to the rays of sunshine that filtered through the trees and clouds. Her hair was brown in her back, but when the sunlight reached around her head as clouds parted, they were reddish, like a sunrise.

Kiba felt his heart stutter before restarting full speed, his fingers tingling from the force of each thump. Kiba hadn’t seen many girls before, since he tended to play with groups of boys in the village, and for the first time, he found one pretty .

Then Akamaru was jumping on her laps with a friendly yip, and Kiba woke up from his daze, walking to them.

She startled when his friend landed on her, intense green eyes looking down to the pup on her lap, blinking and extremely confused.

Kiba felt his heart thump louder at the peculiar expression and then her eyes were on him, pinning him in place.

There was something in her gaze that froze him up. Her gaze was so intense he had a hard time looking away as she sized him up. It was like an oppressive weight on his shoulders, the back of his neck prickling as his hairs stood on his arms.

He should have felt angry. The girl sized him up while kneeling in front of him ! He didn’t learn that much about body language in his clan yet, but he knew it was a dominant action. And Inuzukas were more sensitive to this than most, inhabited by animalistic instincts.

He should be mad, but instead, he wondered if she would be satisfied.

Then she blinked, looking again at Akamaru and patting his head like it was the first time she ever did this, her movements hesitant and clumsy.

“I’m Kiba, and this is Akamaru!” He introduced them with a hesitant smile, Akamaru barking upon hearing his name in greeting.

She blinked again, her face as peaceful as when he first saw her, if not inexpressive .

She was still looking at him intensely, and it made him take a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders.

It also allowed him to take in her smell, which was extremely unusual. He was used to these kinds of smells on his clan’s members, since their nose was sensitive, they favored organic care products to avoid the smell of chemicals.

She smelled of various plants, all soft to his nose, and he couldn’t help but associate her smell to pack . He was still too young to rely less on his animalistics instincts.

“Yuzuki,” she finally said. “Are you an Inuzuka?”

The boy nodded, not really surprised she knew, since his clan’s marking on his face was a rather obvious telling point.

“Do you know how to meditate?” she asked.

6.

It was coming together. The little girl was nearing her fifth birthday, and it felt like this year lasted longer than it was. It felt like it was at least five years.

She learned. So. Much .

She knew she was nearing madness. She didn’t think of it in those exact terms, but her mind was spiraling out of control with new knowledge, and meditation was no longer enough.

The golden scroll .

It all became unbearable after it appeared.

In a daze, she spent weeks studying herbs, filling page after page of drawing and notes, soon it was not enough to watch, she needed to taste.

Her father taught her about every single one of them, so she knew which one was safe to taste without supervision. She wrote down the results in a section she had left blank next to each herb in her notebook.

The others, that were not as safe, she did with her father. He was extremely supportive in what she wanted to do, and she was more than happy for his participation.

She felt safe to try whatever she wanted.

And so, it started.

Yuzuki’s fingers brushed over the serrated edge of a leaf, her emerald eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“This one, Dad?” she asked, holding up a sprig.

Satomi Kyriū smiled, wiping his hands on his apron before crouching to her level. “Hm… Yarrow. It helps wounds heal and can stop bleeding.”

Yuzuki nodded solemnly, absorbing the information. “And the taste?”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Bitter. A little peppery.”

Without hesitation, she plucked a leaf and popped it into her mouth. Almost instantly, her nose scrunched up, and she fought the urge to grimace. “Ergh… Peppery and bitter, indeed.”

Satomi burst into laughter. “Told you!”

But she wasn’t done. Every day, she tested new plants, challenging herself to predict their effects before her father spoke. Some burned her tongue, others left an unexpected sweetness. Sometimes, she spat out a stem with a sharp shake of her head while her father chuckled at her reaction.

“This one makes my tongue tingle!” she exclaimed one afternoon, chewing a tiny green leaf.

“Well, that’s wild sorrel. It’s full of oxalic acid. Not too much, alright?”

But Yuzuki was insatiable. She wasn’t just learning about plants—she wanted to understand them, to know how they worked together. Soon, she was filling pages of notebooks, sketching each herb with meticulous notes, drawing connections between their properties and their flavors.

She did her first creations, suggested by her father. He didn’t think she was ready yet to try her hands on making medicine, and so, he challenged her to make soaps first, then hydrating oils, then toothpaste - which she did with peppermint and white clay.

Her father watched, pride and amazement mingling in his gaze with each of her successes.

He bought her a second notebook to write down recipes, and started to teach her basic medicine, letting her experiment when he was busy preparing orders from pharmacies.

When it came to chakra though, he didn't help much. It was something that kept grating her mind, scrolls piling up where she discarded them to focus on her study. They never left, they just kept appearing one after the other, until she could not ignore it anymore.

She needed to know. She read about chakra. She read about the concept of chakra, and could feel the chakra when she meditated, one type occupied way more space than the other. The Spiritual Energy was overflowing, where her Physical Energy wasn’t much to look at. She was even surprised it summed up to this amount upon closer inspection.

A scroll landed among the others, opening up.

Some of the books she read mentioned some effects the herbs had on ninjas. Some were physical stimulants that made their body produce Physical Energy. It was supposed to be coupled with physical training, but she didn’t have the time yet.

While most plants in the greenhouse didn’t have stimulant properties, some of them interacting together - she had tasted a few everyday, could have this kind of effect.

It was interesting to know, and she already had started to think of medicines that would emulate physical stimulants. First, she wanted to explore the field about chakra, and she had pushed it back too much to ignore again. But her father didn’t want to let her practice.

Since he was a civilian, he didn’t know much about it in the first place, and he was scared she would hurt herself without guidance.

Her mother was extremely busy with her job, going on mission after mission, and resting on her days off.

Her mother didn’t have time. But it was okay, her father was always here.

Still, it left her in a bind. Dad said no. Mom didn’t say no but didn't have time to teach me.

…

Why should I obey?

The black scroll landed abruptly in her mind, other scrolls sent flying around.

It felt like something in her mind shattered. The binding of the knowledge that she was not supposed to do something suddenly lifted. There was no guilt, no hesitation—only the exhilarating clarity of a new path to knowledge.

She asked to play outside.

Chapter Text

7.

She found the perfect spot upon the fifth day of exploration of the surroundings.

Konoha was huge, forest, farms and city forming a fascinating sight, one she could barely take in with the numerous scrolls piling up with each detail. 

She disliked the city's noise—too many people, too many voices, too many thoughts invading her mind. It wasn’t just annoying; it was almost painful.

It guided her into the closest forest, decided to find a peaceful spot. She navigated in the forest for a while, forcing herself to focus on her surroundings so she could find her way back. She found a hidden training ground, vegetation eating away the borders of the hard dirt, bare of any equipment.

It was perfect.

She spent a few hours every day moving her body in controlled movements, creating sequences to follow to develop her muscles and precision at the same time.

It left her sore with a whirling mind looking for the best way to move. She loved it. She would spend another half of an hour meditating to observe her progress and the effects of different stimulant herbs she ate had.

Barely a week after her discovery, she met Kiba and Akamaru.

After a rather awkward introduction - it was the first time she met someone else. A scroll rolled down.

They were the absolute perfect opposite of her. Perfect in the way she lacked Physical Energy while they lacked Spiritual Energy.

She taught them how to meditate, her hand resting upon each back. Akamaru, since he was a special breed, was smarter than the average dog, and was able to use chakra. He was the fighting partner of an Inuzuka after all, even though for now, they seemed more like simple friends.

They were still young after all. Even her mom told her it was useless to start training now since she was too small.

The contact allowed her to feel how the Spiritual Energy was forming inside of them.

She had to compromise though. Kiba and Akamaru agreed to meditate with her, but she had to play with them.

She didn’t really mind, since it was still physical training to run around, but she still set boundaries.

Since they came as soon as she arrived, she was okay to give them an hour of her time, but she had her experiments to do.

They would play on the side while she practiced her sequences. She didn’t speak much with them, she had a hard time talking because of her whirling mind of scroll and endless thoughts, and they didn’t seem to mind it that much.

Still… it would be nice to calm her mind enough to connect to her surroundings.

The golden scroll suddenly covered the others.

Thirst for Knowledge.

Oh. Of course. She already consumed herbs as stimulants to produce Physical Energy. Why not mix up some properties together in a new herb that would calm her mind and stimulate her body . It would seem like an odd mix, but it was not like a stimulant needed to agitate her. The interesting properties of the herbs she ate were not acting on her mental activity, they acted on the way molecules in her body produced Physical Energy, speeding up the process.

She was set to work, her father buying her books about herbology with a new notebook for her first own project.

The first days, she spent her mornings selecting the plants she would use for her project. With trial and errors, she completed her datas on their properties and their interactions with each other.

Once she had found compatible plants, she spent the next weeks grafting them with eachother, monitoring the progress of the growing new plant.

Once it grew enough to test out, she was left disappointed by her first failure. The result was too weak, the percentage of properties that calmed down her mind was insignificant.

It didn’t stop her. Learning from her mistakes, she focused on amplifying the calming properties, and added a new plant to the mix.

It took another two weeks to test out the result, and she frowned. It was still not enough. One of the stimulant properties clashed surprisingly with the amplifying properties of the newly added plant.

Each afternoon, as she trained and spent time with Kiba and Akamaru, she would be deep in thoughts. The scrolls kept rolling and stretching, listing plants, known interactions, potential interactions, biology…

Another month later, and two other failures left her in front of the fifth new plant. She had to ask her father to buy new plants for the glasshouse. The ones he had were of various properties, but they were too weak, used mostly in civilian medications. She needed shinobi.

It was extremely expensive, and her father made her promise to take great care of them. They were hers. Her dad even took the time to free a spot in the glasshouse that would belong to her, and she really enjoyed taking care of her first plants.

The finished product was a plant with yellow-green leaves with denting borders, the plant growing taller and taller, leaves sprouting from its branches generously. Then, buds started to cover the branches, opening in deep dark red flowers the size of an adult’s tumb.

After testing out the various properties the plant had, she sighed. She already knew when had added the Ennetsu -one of the plants her dad agreed to buy her, that the release of the calming effects would be possible by ignition . The flowers contained an almost invisible resine that, upon heating, released three extremely interesting properties : chakra circulation enhancing, concentration and alleviating headaches.

To this was added more basic plants for the stability and the duration of effects, physical stimulants - it had been the tricky part, since various stimulants didn’t react well with heat.

That was it. She called it Shizukusa. Peaceful Plant.

She already knew her parents would not accept that she smokes Shizukusa. She had read one of the few books about smoke and lasting effects on the pulmonary system. She didn’t care to damage her lungs if she could finally control her mind.

The black scroll landed on top of the others.

Why should I obey?

When the black scroll unrolled, the plan was formed in barely seconds as scrolls rolled open, stretching one after another.

“Dad," she called her father as she approached him at the counter of the workshop.

“Yes, Yuki ?” Her father answered with a smile, the surname flowing out with habitude.

“I would like to try woodwork. I saw some birds yesterday and I would like to make them a house,” she explained, her eyes focused on his face as he micro reacted to her words.

He smiled.

Phase A. Success.

It was hard work. Yuzuki frowned as she looked at her scorched fingers. Manipulating wood and tools to make a birdhouse was hard on her soft fingers.

Still, it was pleasant to struggle. It was a rare occurrence after all. It was not that her mind had a hard time forming perfect drafts of the birdhouse or the various steps necessary to accomplish it… it was her hands.

She read and wrote, sure. But she didn’t do much manual labor. She was clumsy. Her brain needed to learn movements. Or, rather, the best way to do each move.

It meant trial and error until she could do everything perfectly. At least she had time to train before crafting her long smoking pipe.

“It’s beautiful, darling!” Her father ruffled her hair, admiring the birdhouse by her side.

It took a week and a lot of discarded wood -some she kept stashed in her bag for her pipe project, but the result was gratifying.

The birdhouse was big, with three holes leading to three separated rooms. Each room on the extremities had holes to accommodate a small bowl, one for food, one for water.

She painted the house in soft green tones so it blended nicely in the tree she would put it on. 

She painted a waterproof paint once the color paint was dry.

By the end of her project, Yuzuki had carefully collected all the necessary materials to craft her long smoking pipe. She had gained enough experience from building the birdhouse to confidently and swiftly shape the wood and handle the tools precisely. Yet, unlike before, this was something she couldn't openly display; secrecy had become crucial. She waited patiently for the quiet hours when her father was busy or asleep, quietly slipping into the workshop to meticulously carve, sand, and assemble each part of the pipe under the dim glow of a small lantern. Her fingers occasionally trembled—not from lack of skill, but from the thrill and caution of doing something forbidden, carefully erasing any trace of wood shavings or dust before dawn broke through the workshop windows.

Her long pipe was ready, and Shizukusa had enough flowers to take some of them with some leafs -they held the stimulant properties, drying them carefully before stashing them in an ermetic bag that she sew on the inside of the sleeve of her larges hoodie she wore most of the time. To this she added straps around her forearm, fixing her long pipe and hiding it in her sleeve in turn.

She was barely a few meters away from the border of the forest when she sat herself at the foot of a tree to light up her pipe, Shizukusa stacked in the bowl in the extremity.

She cracked a match beneath her foot and lit it up, pressing her lips on the black mouthpiece she had spent a lot of time carving. She inhaled.

Oh.

The scrolls trembled, ink shaking and smearing and…

Peace .

There was only a scroll left. Only one. If she really wanted to, she could make more… If she wanted to.

How marvelous. She could look around her and see . She could simply look without scrolls flooding her mind!

Shizukusa worked.

8.

It was like night and day.

Yuzuki was a really silent playmate. To be honest, Kiba didn’t understand why he kept coming back to her every day.

He liked to be loud, he liked to be physical. When he went to the playground, he would play ninja with other children and they would mocke fights and scream.

His new friend was silent, intense… every time he met her eyes, he felt exposed. It was like nothing he ever felt before, not even when his mother was ultra mad at his father her angry glare wasn’t as impactful as the piercing gaze of Yuzuki.

Akamaru seemed to like her a lot. He would trail after her when she did what she called sequences, trying to mimic some of her moves.

Yuzuki didn’t seem to mind that much, but she didn’t react. Weirdly enough, her permanent silence never bothered them. There was something she casted around her, an aura, that was hard to ignore for Akamaru, being a dog and sensitive to people’s emotions, and Kiba, who had instincts that could rival his dog counterpart.

That something around her didn’t exactly scream sickness, but there was definitely something wrong with her.

Maybe he couldn't help coming back to her because a part of him wanted to help. He didn’t know how, didn’t even know what was wrong to begin with… so he stayed around, he tried to make her talk sometimes - she had a way with her words… It seemed clinical, like an automatic answer, not a human's one…

She was late. He arrived with Akamaru, expecting to see her warm up while waiting for them to play tag… the training ground was empty, her scent lingering but dating from yesterday.

And then, there was a new scent. It was sweet, it almost seemed to relax his mind and oh.

Oh.

It wasn't the scent that made him feel relaxed. It was her.

Their eyes met, and for the second time, his heart stuttered before restarting in a loud bump against his chest. His fingers tingle.

She looked at him.

Before, the way she looked at him was intense, focused, it was like she was looking at an interesting object.

Not this time. She was utterly relaxed, looking at him with soft emerald eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

It was the most expressif he ever saw her.

“Good morning, Kiba, Akamaru,” she greeted them.

A voice was soft, sounding happy , or more like… content? He didn’t know, but she sounded… human.

Akamaru ran up to her, jumping in her arms. He never did this before, since he knew she would probably not catch him, but… she did.

It was still clumsy, the way her arms shifted many times around the pup was a pretty clear evidence that it was the first time she held an animal.

His friend sniffed at her fingers, contorting in her arms, and making questioning noises.

“A new herb I made in a study,” she told him, her smile widening a clear indication she was happy with the result. 

The fact she reacted to social cues with such flawless natural made Kiba blink.

It was like night and day.

9.

“A little more” she encouraged the small white dog.

He was stretching a front paw and back paw up, but his back leg wasn’t high enough.

The dog trembled but his leg rose more.

“Good, now let them down slowly with control on your movement,” she instructed, scrolls rolling slowly in her mind as she observed his form.

Now that her mind was under control, she could focus on her friends. Once she noticed Akamaru’s interest for her sequences, she decided to create some for him.

The little dog was ecstatic, jumping around her when she told him.

Kiba asked for the same, and here she was, creating sequences after studying their body, the way they moved for different positions, their speed…

It took a long time, as she was creating two different sequences simultaneously, but it was good practice for managing multiple scrolls at once.

Now that she had control, she could train to open more and more at the same time.

At home, she started to study anatomy, muscles, and bones, focused on creating the perfect sequence for them.

For herself, she always went through trial and error, adjusting her moves until it felt like it was the best way to do it. Then she didn’t need to think to execute it like she wanted to.

She couldn’t do the same with Kiba, nor with Akamaru. They were different. They didn’t think that much. They wouldn't be able to do it.

It was clear in the way they were confused when she tried to explain her study on herbs.

The training ground was quiet, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through the trees. Kiba sat on a fallen log, lazily scratching Akamaru behind the ears while Yuzuki knelt in the dirt, her notebook open across her lap. A faint scent of herbs clung to the air, mixing with the damp earth and crushed leaves beneath them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yuzuki said, not looking up as she scribbled a new equation in the margins of her notes. “If I isolate the active compound in Shinpaku leaves and stabilize it with a mild catalyst—perhaps powdered ginseng—it should enhance cellular regeneration without increasing metabolic strain.”

Kiba blinked. “…What?”

She barely paused, flipping to another page. “It’s about energy efficiency. The body prioritizes injury recovery over other functions, but if I can create a blend that directs chakra to targeted healing without unnecessary depletion, it could be a significant improvement over standard medical pills.”

Silence.

“…Yuzuki.”

She finally glanced up. Kiba was staring at her like she’d just spoken in an ancient forgotten language. Akamaru, sensing his partner’s confusion, tilted his head in sync, mirroring the same dumbfounded expression.

“What?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

Kiba made a face. “You just said a bunch of words, but none of them made sense.”

Yuzuki blinked, processing his statement. “But—” She stopped, realizing he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t pretending to be confused. He was confused.

The scrolls in her mind shifted uncomfortably. He doesn’t know.

Of course, he didn’t. Why would he? Kiba understood chakra, training, instincts, but this? This was her world. Plants and formulas, chakra flow manipulation, biochemical interactions—these were things she saw as clearly as the dirt beneath her fingers, but for Kiba, it was like trying to grasp mist.

She looked at him—truly looked at him. He was still Kiba, loud, brash, always moving, always speaking his mind. And yet, she had expected him to follow her reasoning as if he were just like her. As if he could see what she saw.

She lowered her pen slowly, staring at the half-finished formula in her lap.

I am different.

She had always known she was smart—her father told her all the time. But this was different. It wasn’t just intelligence. It was perception. The way her mind connected ideas, the way her thoughts stacked and layered, creating intricate structures that others couldn’t seem to follow.

Kiba wasn’t stupid. He was just… Kiba. And she was her.

“…Never mind,” she said, shutting her notebook with a quiet thud.

Kiba relaxed, relieved to be free from the headache of whatever she had just tried to explain. “Great. Now can we do something that doesn’t involve weird plant words?”

Yuzuki let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and nodded. “Yeah… Let’s train.”

And for the first time, she didn’t feel frustrated that he didn’t understand.

She simply understood that he wouldn’t.

Because she was different.

Her parents were different too. She never noticed before the way her father’s eyes seemed a little lost sometimes when she talked about her ideas. But he seemed so proud and happy to hear her that she never took a second glance at the scroll that drifted away under others.

Her mother didn’t even try. She would tell her she was tired and it was the signal for her to leave her alone.

Still, Kiba and Akamaru listened, and she slowly started to shift the way she spoke to be understood. She stopped talking about herbs, instead she spoke about chakra, and they were very much interested . They wanted to be ninjas after all.

10.

For her sixth birthday, her mother was on a long term mission and wouldn’t be back before another few months, so it was only her and her dad.

Yuzuki sat at the kitchen table, methodically turning the pages of her notebook as her father stirred a pot on the stove. The rich aroma of simmering broth filled the small space, but her mind was elsewhere—on the training ground, on the way Akamaru’s small paws kicked at the dirt when he pounced, on Kiba’s sharp laughter when she finally agreed to chase him.

“They don’t meditate properly yet,” she murmured, tapping her pen against the edge of the table. “Kiba gets distracted too easily, and Akamaru just copies whatever he does. But I think I can train them. If I adjust the method and use shorter intervals…”

Her father chuckled, turning to lean against the counter, ladle in hand. “You talk about those two more than you talk about your studies lately,” he mused, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think my little scholar has made some real friends.”

Yuzuki blinked, processing his words. Friends? She supposed they were. They were the only ones who didn’t feel like an interruption to her thoughts.

“They’re interesting,” she admitted, flipping a page. “Kiba’s chakra is wild, unrefined. Akamaru’s is steadier. They complement each other.”

Satomi laughed, shaking his head. “You analyze them like they’re another experiment.” He wiped his hands on a cloth before sitting across from her. “Yuki, have you thought about inviting them over?”

She tilted her head. “Over?”

“For your birthday,” he clarified. “It’s in a few days, and I don’t think you’ve ever had a real party. It might be nice to have them here, don’t you think?”

Yuzuki hesitated. The idea of a birthday party had never really occurred to her. Her father always gave her books or materials for her research, and she was content with that. But inviting Kiba and Akamaru… She imagined Kiba running through the house, Akamaru sniffing at everything, the inevitable chaos.

She thought about Kiba’s broad smile, the way Akamaru nuzzled against her when she got lost in her thoughts.

“…I’ll ask them,” she said finally.

Satomi grinned. “Good. I’ll make something special.”

She watched as he returned to cooking, humming to himself.

Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Of course, they said yes.

11.

“Happy birthday Yuzu!” Kiba greeted her, Akamaru barking his own greeting from the top of his head.

“Thank you, come in!” She smiled, she was a little excited to introduce them to her dad. They were her only friends after all.

Her father stood up from a chair around the table when they entered the living room, a smile stretching his lips.

“Hello, Kiba and Akamaru, right? I’m Kyriū Satomi!” His father greeted them, shaking hands with Kiba and then shaking one of Akamaru’s front paws.

Kiba’s face was an interesting mix of feelings, to say the least. A few scrolls were already unrolling as she studied his expression.

He seemed surprised, then his surprise shifted into something closer to amazement.

He then looked at her, then at him a few times.

She lifted an eyebrow.

Her father and her shared the same hair and eyes. Her face was more of a mix of her mother and a feminine version of her father.

But she knew they very much looked alike.

“Sit down. I’ll bring the cake,” her father smiled as he left to the attenant kitchen.

Once they were sitting at the table, Akamaru in Kiba's lap, he spoke.

“Your dad is super cool,” he finally said. “Mine left a few weeks ago, mom made him run away with all her screaming…”

Oh. Yuzuki’s fingers twitched as a dozen of scrolls took up her mind, making her freeze.

He seemed sad the previous weeks. She did notice, but his sadness seemed to go away every time they started to interact.

So she didn’t think much about it. She was already busy working on the scrolls for the sequences, she had to adjust them as they grew and gained in strength and flexibility.

She had created three separate sequences. One for strength, one for flexibility, and one for control.

She focused back on Kiba. She knew now. He never really spoke about his home, but to be fair, she didn’t either, she didn’t think it mattered.

She discovered it could .

She took his hand across the table, his eyes snapping up to look at her with surprise.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were unhappy. I will do better. I’m here for you, you can speak to me about anything. And you can come at my house sometimes if you are in a bad mood, we can play games with my dad.”

He was close to tears when she stopped talking, but the sheer gratitude he was exulting and his unshed tears pierced her heart in an unknown feeling.

Maybe it was guilt.

She never wanted to feel it again.

Chapter Text

12.

The grave was as simple as it was beautiful. There were curves all around forming flowers.

Kyriū Kyoko was written in beautiful and lacquered letters.

Her mother died on her long term mission. It took a while before her body was brought back to Konoha.

She was already dead weeks before they learned the truth.

She blinked as her father cried. She didn’t feel sad. Her mother… She never really knew her. She was barely here, and when she was, she didn’t want to spend any time with her.

She was a stranger living in their house.

“Let’s go home,” her father finally said, and they left.

13.

She was still confused about the concept of death and grief. She didn’t know if she was grieving or if she didn’t care.

This question obsessed her. She knew she was different, but she was still human. Although emotions confused her because she didn’t feel them that much, she still felt . She loved her father, she liked Kiba and Akamaru very much… Just… Not her mother.

The next day she was back at the cemetery. She looked at the grave intently, deep in thought. She let her long pipe slide from under her sleeve, filling it with Shizukusa before smoking.

She sat in front of the grave, her focus renewed. She didn’t feel anything. No sadness, no grief, no longing. The scrolls unrolled rapidly, each one asking the same question: Why? Why didn’t she mourn like others did? Why did she feel… nothing?

She had read about grief. Seen it in others. People cried, held onto memories, spoke of their loved ones in hushed voices. But for her, there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing to remember, nothing to miss.

But had she ever felt sad about her mother? The scrolls shifted, rewinding, searching for memories. And there it was—those countless times she had approached her, only to be met with a weary sigh, a turned back, a quiet dismissal.

‘Not now, Yuzuki. I’m tired.’ ‘Maybe later.’ ‘Go to your father, I need rest.’

She had felt it back then, a hollow weight in her chest, an ache she hadn’t understood. She had wanted something—attention, warmth, acknowledgment. And every time, she had been pushed away.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t grieving. She simply had no grief left to give. She had mourned long ago, after one final rejection, when she had chosen indifference over pain.

She had let go of her mother while she was still alive.

And so, she stood up, dusting off her knees. There was nothing more to say. Nothing more to feel.

Once out of the section of the cemetery, her eyes landed on a young man facing the Memorial Stone. His shoulders were slumped.

She decided to approach him, intrigued. He was a ninja in the way he was clothed, altough he had a mask, and he had the same jacket as her mother.

She had never interacted with a ninja before. Kiba, while from a ninja clan, wasn't one himself, and her mother never interacted with her.

He was the first she approached, and she wanted badly to touch him. Feel his chakra. How would it be ? How much difference made training and practice for at least a decade?

She didn’t touch him, obviously. Before she was allowed to go play outside, her dad had sat in front of her and explained to her what she could and could not do.

No touching strangers, no talking to adults, no following home people, no accepting food… and so on.

Most of the rules were absurd to her but she still listened. But again, the black scroll landed.

Contrary to the golden one, it just popped sometimes, mostly when a rule was refraining her from doing what she wanted. It was like a pertinence check to follow the rules, pros and cons confronted until she reached a conclusion - mostly breaking the rules.

“Is it true ninjas can walk on walls?” She asked him.

His head snapped to look at her. His headband was falling on one of his eyes, leaving only one grey eye analysing her.

“Yes,” he finally said, turning his head away again.

Yuzuki knew it meant he wanted to be left alone, but she didn’t really care.

“How?” She asked.

He didn’t turn her way, pretending he didn’t hear her.

“Is it ninjutsu or does it rely on chakra control?” she asked again.

He turned his head again. But he didn’t speak. He was telling her to develop her thoughts. She felt her chest tingle at the attention, and wasn't it strange ? She never felt that much for her own mother, a stranger that clearly didn’t want to be disturbed still listened . In that case, why did her mother never…- no, she didn’t care, she was dead, she would never get an answer.

“I read about how chakra is formed inside the body, and since I have yet to be ready to mould chakra with my Physical et Spiritual Energies, I can't test out how it works. It is frustrating.”

He blinked. Then he crouched in front of her, his hand landing on her hair.

“You are ready to start, though?” He said, his voice low.

It felt like he was empty inside. His voice was unnaturally calm. With this new proximity, the temptation to feel his chakra grew stronger. Her hand went for his chest, his own hand tensing in her hair, but he didn’t stop her.

She stopped breathing. Hundreds of scrolls crashed on her like a tsunami, her eyes opening wider.

She jerked away, finger reaching for her pipe and stuffing the bowl with Shizukusa, but her hands were trembling, whe couldn't light the match.

Her head started throbbing. She couldn’t track the scrolls, she couldn't think, too much, stop stop stop…

There was a small flame at the fingertip of the Shinobi. She inhaled .

“Are you okay?” The ninja asked her, hovering over her awkwardly.

He seemed to want to bolt, but couldn't because he was worried. She could finally control her thoughts again.

“I never felt developed Elemental chakra before, I overloaded,” she explained, tapping her pipe to let the ashes fall before she tucked it away in her sleeve again.

“You could feel it?” The ninja questioned her, his only visible brow frowning.

“Yes, it’s pretty easy for me to feel someone's inside,” she said.

The man seemed disturbed by her words, puzzled, and then he laughed. It wasn't like her father, cracking and belly deep, it wasn't like Kiba either, high pitched and loud…

It was soft, like he forgot how to.

“Well, next time, don’t touch someone without asking,” he told her with an eye smile.

“But you touched me first, sir,” she replied, unimpressed.

“Right,” he smiled again.

He ruffled her hair and left. Or rather, disappeared. She blinked as scrolls started to pile up again.

The golden scroll was shining in her mind. She was ready to start using chakra.

Chapter Text

14.

Yuzuki frowned, her deep focus broken once again. Something was wrong.

She took a deep breath, listening to the discrete movements of Kiba and Akamaru as they went through their sequences, the ruffling of leaves in the surrounding trees, the rare tweeting of a few birds…

Without Shizukusa, she wouldn’t have been able to do so. Now, meditating was easier, almost natural. But as she gathered Physical and Spiritual Energies to mix them in a slow circle… Something broke her focus.

Rotating her Energies didn’t seem to work, her body reacting badely each time.

Her mind was swirling among the scrolls, looking for any relevant knowledge to find a solution, but it came back empty.

For the first time in her life, she had reached a wall that seemed insurmountable.

Failure.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she broke away from her musing, looking behind her shoulder where Kida was kneeling, a worried expression on his face.

“Are you okay, Yuzu?” he asked her once their eyes met.

“I… Don’t know…” she confessed.

Kiba let himself land on the dirt, letting go of her shoulder to press his hands behind him as support. She herself sat more comfortably, unfolding her legs from her seiza position to let them rest on the side, using a hand for balance.

“Is it… about your mom?” her friend asked softly, Akamaru sitting beside her with a worried yip.

“No…” she denied instantly, but Kiba didn’t seem convinced, and she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

She was still new to the concept of friendship. She had slowly learned to care about her friends, or rather, how to care for them . She could guess the same way she had felt sorry for him when his father left, he was sorry for her mom’s death.

“My mother was barely present in my life, I had already grieved for her before she died,” she explained to him, and he nodded slowly, accepting her explanation. “I don’t… I failed to gather chakra. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t seem to work,” she explained.

“Huh… You’re trying to mold chakra? We’re still young, you know,” Kiba told her with a shrug. “Why don’t you keep training for now?”

“I’m ready,” Yuzuki told him with certainty. The Ninja had said as much, and she trusted someone that was that powerful. “But I keep on failing,” she added softly, the words leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

Kiba blinked, and then, slowly, a smile creeped on his face. Yuzuki was confused by the peculiar expression. She was not expecting this kind of reaction to her failure.

“It’s the first time, am I right?” Kiba asked her, his smile stretching impossibly large. “Welcome to the world of normal dumb humans!” he entoned, spreading his arms as if to hug her.

“I don’t think you’re dumb, Kiba,” she informed him hesitantly, out of her depth.

“That’s not the point, although I have to say I do feel dumb , when I hang with you,” he informed her, but his smile didn’t waver and he didn’t seem to care about it. “But that’s okay, that’s not the subject. You know what you have to do to resolve your problem?”

She shook her head.

“Well… Ask for help,” he told her with a shrug.

She blinked.

“I see,” she said slowly. Indeed, it would be simpler to ask for guidance from the Ninja once more. “You are my only friend Kiba, and I don’t think you're dumb,” she still insisted. “I’m just different”

“Whatever,” Kiba let her words go like he didn’t need reassurance, which was probably the case. “Feeling better?”

Indeed, she felt better. Failure didn’t seem that huge of a wall now… She just needed to borrow a ladder.

“Thank you Kiba,” she still said.

“Don’t sweat it,” was his answer.

“I’m not-”

“-it’s a figure of speech,” he interrupted her.

“Oh.”

15.

She took a deep breath, her Energies slowly mixing. She took her time to feel how to balance out both.

Slowly she started to rotate it in a continuous movement, deciding which direction to make it turn by observing the production each position resulted, before going point by point across her body.

She took a deep breath, feeling the chakra slowly filling her body. She needed to release it, guide it properly, or it would become unstable. She thought back on a few days earlier as she was discussing chakra with the Ninja on their second meeting.

“You’re overthinking it,” he had said, eyeing her with that lazy amusement of his. “Chakra flow is like breathing. If you force it, it stiffens. Let it move naturally.”

She had frowned at that, skeptical. Natural movement wasn’t something she relied on—everything in her mind followed precise sequences.

But now, as she focused on molding chakra, she tried to let it flow instead of forcing it. With a deep controlled breath -seven in, five keep, seven out, she let go of the tight control she had over what was happening in her body. The difference was immediate. It was smoother, easier to direct. It was a little like giving out an order. You didn’t take the person to make her go somewhere, you just told her where she had to go.

The next step was identifying her elemental chakra affinities. She had found much information in her mother’s stuff, and one was in an old manual from the Academy that explained Hand Seals. It also explained that ninjutsu’s techniques had elemental affinities, and she needed to find out which one she had.

She focused on herself. Memories of the buzz of electricity in the Ninja's body she met previously invading her mind.

After a long introspection, she finally felt it. Wind was more prominent, but there was also water and … it wasn't one of the five elements. It was black.

Yin chakra, a high Energy that came from Spiritual Energy. She shouldn't have been surprised, but when she saw where it flowed naturally, she paused.

It flew to her mind. She didn’t know what it meant, and couldn't understand. Why was it going there ? Did her too busy mind need Yin chakra to keep going?

Later, once she understood what it did, she would try to explain her thoughts to her father.

“I don’t understand, Yuki,” he admitted, rubbing his temples. “You think about dozens of things at the same time?”

She nodded. “It’s like… too many voices speaking at once. But Yin chakra organizes them. It’s like having scrolls instead of a tangled mess.”

Her father chuckled. “You really are something else, my little genius.”

Now, as she let Yin chakra flow through her mind, she felt it again—that subtle, constant healing. It kept her thoughts from overwhelming her, letting her function with clarity. Without it, she wasn’t sure she could exist the way she did.

It was utterly fascinating. She wished she could speak to someone about it but she knew no one…

The Ninja.

She needed to find the Ninja again.

16.

“How do you control Yin chakra?” She asked him when she found him in the same spot, in front of the Memorial Stone.

He threw her an unreadable glance.

“Why do you ask?” He asked in return slowly.

“Because mine is doing things without needing any action from me,” she explained slowly.

He frowned, and his hand reached for his headband before freezing.

“Turn around,” he told her.

She didn’t ask why and simply obeyed. There was the shuffle of textile, and silence.

“You can turn back,” he told her.

She faced him again, waiting for his explanation.

“I don’t know what it does, but it seems connected to your brain. You told me you overloaded . What did you mean?”

She let herself rest in seiza, drawing her long pipe out of her sleeve. He looked at it with curiosity. He didn’t ask last time, and neither did he now.

“Before I learned how to manage it with meditation, my mind used to entertain hundreds of lines of thought simultaneously,” she explained slowly.

He blinked, but seemed focused on what she said, so she started to pack the bowl of her pipe.

“With permanent meditation, I managed to reduce it to fifty, more or less. It left me able to think clearly, but it prevented me from connecting to my surroundings.”

She turned her eyes to him, and pushed her pipe against his fingers. He was still standing in front of her. He chuckled lowly at her prod, and soon, a small flame was lighting the tip of his finger.

She inhaled. Shizukusa burned fast. A slow, steady intake was enough to get her mind calm and her body tingling with energy.

She tapped the ashes to the ground and put the pipe back in her sleeve, exhaling a cloud of white smoke.

The sweet scent of the plant was nice. Kiba didn't say anything about it, and Akamaru didn’t prod more than the first time he had smelled it. The Ninja didn’t seem to mind either.

“So I created a… medication, of sorts. One that would calm my mind enough to control how many thoughts I want to follow at the same time.”

“Maa, we have so many prodigies in this village,” the man said with a sigh, letting himself plop down on the ground in front of her. “But I’m pretty sure I never heard of someone like you before.”

She shruged at that. Weirdly enough, it hurted her a little to know no one was like-minded. But Kiba and Akamaru showed her that being different wasn't a bad thing. Everyone was different in the end. She had just a little extra difference.

“As for the Yin chakra, I can only tell you what I know, and I do not have any practical experience,” the Ninja spoke again. “Yin chakra comes from Spiritual Energy, and acts on what you imagine. Since I never managed to use it, this is all I know.”

She almost regretted smoking before he told her. She would have loved nothing more than dozens of scrolls working on this new information.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, nudging at something in her mind, and slowly, scrolls started to unroll. It was just a little more work to nudge her mind as she wished, and when it really started, she felt her lips twitch with satisfaction.

The amount of Spiritual Energy she produced by simply being awake was overflowing. It wasn't that far of a stretch to think that Yin chakra, since it was produced only by Spiritual Energy instead of a mix with Physical Energy, was one of her affinity.

“There is a clan that uses Yin chakra,” the Ninja informed her. “They can control their shadow”

She hummed softly in answer, cracking her eyes open to look at him, but she was too focused inside on the scrolls defiling.

“They think they do,” she answered back, over the flow of scrolls.

The Ninja cocked his only visible gray eyebrow at her reply, and she let go of her thoughts, scrolls diminishing until there was only less than a dozen left.

“You told me yourself that Yin chakra acts on what someone imagines. It would then make sense to think that this clan doesn’t literally control shadows, but that they trained to use Yin chakra a specific way.”

The man chuckles, letting his hands rest behind him as his eyes drift to the sky.

“If I had doubts, I guess they’re cleared. I’m feeling dumb in front of a what? Five years old?” The man said with a derisive tone, throwing her a look that made her blink.

It was similar to the look her father gave her sometimes, something close to amazement.

“Six, but it doesn't mean much,” she answered carefully. “We are different, there is no point to compare”

“And mature,” the man said drily. “Hatake Kakashi,” he introduced himself.

“Kyriū Yuzuki, nice to meet you” she answered politely with a small smile, just like her father taught her to introduce herself.

He snorted. She blinked.

17.

Shikaku Nara raised an eyebrow. He saw Hatake Kakashi pretty often, after all he was a jōnin and as such, took on numerous missions.

As the head of the Department that took care of distributing the missions and the Jōnin Commander, he often briefed jōnins on sensitive information that were not disclosed on the mission scrolls.

Except the man in front of him didn’t come for a mission but for a request.

It was extremely unusual, especially when he asked him to run a background check on a civilian child .

But Kakashi was not the kind of man to ask something randomly. There was a purpose behind it. He didn’t explain much, he just said he wanted to know about her family.

It turned out there were interesting details that came out when Shikaku accepted his request and did a background check.

The Kyriū family… It was a family that came to live in Konoha only two generations before. Barely fifty years ago.

They came from the Water Country, more precisely from Kirigakure.

The couple were civilians, and there was no doubt about it since they checked when they asked for the right of residence that they really didn’t have chakra.

Their daughter became a promising kunoichi that ranked up at the respectable age of seventeen as a jōnin.

She was killed on mission a few months before, and left behind a husband and a daughter.

Daughter that, one way or another, had managed to intrigue Hatake Kakashi.

She didn’t go to the civilian school, and spent most of her time with her father, except when she left to go out to play.

That was what observed the chūnin he sent. He didn’t ask him to follow her more than necessary, since there was no solid ground to justify it. It needed to be run with the Hokage first, it was a civilian child after all, a child of Konoha.

It was one of the first Decrees that had been signed with the Fire Damyio when Konoha had become a village : The civilians are the people of the Damyio and shall be respected as such, following the Regulations.

Said Regulations were fancy phrased sentences that told them to respect their privacy unless it was absolutely necessary not to. Shikaku was not one to break the rules, since the side effect was a lot of troublesome paperwork .

He pushed the Civilian Department counterpart to send someone to check on the father and daughter. She was supposed to go to school when she was four, since she was a civilian, or her father needed to fill out a form to homeschool her. They did neither.

A few days later he was frowning. What came back was unexpected but explained everything.

The child was a genius . At age five, she had already created new medications that were designed for child’s physical development. After observing the effects of various plants on herself, meaning she already had the ability to sense her chakra to the point of being able to tell minimal differences in its flow.

He was flabbergasted. Of course his father wouldn't send her to school. She could die of sheer boredom. She needed special attention to develop, or rather, a freedom she wouldn't have at school among other children.

A true prodigy.

Hatake Kakashi seemed pleased with himself when he shared with him the results of his investigation.

“Should we scoot her early?” he asked him seriously.

The man eyesmiled. If this child was already promising at age five without any close instructions from ninjas, how would she bloom under their attention ? Judging from Kakashi’s intervention, he had laready decided to guide her in some mesures.

“She doesn’t seem to have any interest in becoming a ninja, she just wants knowledge, ” he told him, and his tone seemed to convey amusement.

“I see,” he said. “I will send one of the academy’s teacher then.”

“You should brief them. They need to stay factual, or she will lose interest in the exchange. She thinks… differently. It means she needs stimulation to stay focused on something.”

Shikaku sighed. What a drag.

18.

Yuzuki observed the way her father tensed when someone entered the workshop.

It was open to the public, even though it was generally shop owners that came to buy in batches, but still, it was not unusual.

Except there already had been one visit. A well dressed woman asked her father why she didn’t go to school.

It never occurred to her she had to go. She was fine with Kiba and Akamaru because they had chakra in common. At least, that was the reason at first.

But they grew on her, and she appreciated their presence. She missed them when she didn’t see them.

But other children? She pointedly ignored them when she left the workshop to go to the Inuzuka Forest. They were loud, and seemed unable to focus as they played around.

She couldn’t imagine sitting on a chair being taught… taught what?

She had asked the lady as much, and she smiled at her.

“You would be taught how to read, write, count…” she told her with a cheerful voice like it was something great.

“You need to teach that?” She gasped.

It made her realize once again how much she was different. Her father huffed, she could see the laughter in his eyes as his lips pinched.

“My daughter is too smart for school. She knew how to read before she could walk, without the need to be taught.”

The woman frowned, eyes wide looking at her in a new light.

They spent some time showing her all her side projects (Shizukusa was a secret, something only for her). She made some pills for Kiba and Akamaru to help them grow as they did her sequences. It had been an interesting new project to say the least, eating away at her mind with dozens of scrolls as her father bought her new plants for her side in the greenhouse. He even joked about buying her her own workshop and greenhouse, and a part of her thought it would be nice. Although she liked to have her father around, he couldn’t help her that much anymore, but he was a good listening ear, and had experience backing him.

Anyway, her father watched the man coming to the counter where she sat with her notebook in her hands. This one was meant for her ideas.

It was the only one her father couldn’t read. It was jumbled up in a way that only her mind could decipher. It was keywords that took back scrolls of previous ideas and development, mixing them with accuracy across the pages as they fusioned into a new scroll.

It was something she started to do once she was able to push Yin chakra in her body. She consciously produced it with her overflowing Spiritual Energy.

It allowed her to do new things with her mind, and she enjoyed it. A lot.

19.

Umino Iruka stood in front of the Kyriū workshop, a thin folder tucked under his arm and a familiar tension building between his shoulders.

He had been briefed.

Yuzuki Kyriū wasn’t like the others.

Highly intelligent. Unpredictable. Not particularly sociable.

Shikaku had been clear: keep it short, keep it factual, don’t oversell. Observe her, analyze her. Don’t assume anything.

He exhaled, then slid the door open.

The air inside smelled of herbs and old wood. Warm light filtered through the slats in the shutters, casting soft patterns on the polished floor.

The first thing he saw was a small girl sitting on the counter. She was scribbling something furiously in a thick notebook, her posture perfectly balanced, movements fast but oddly precise. The symbols she was writing didn’t look like any standard script—somewhere between diagrams and encryption.

Behind her, a man, presumably her father, was writing in a thick sales ledger. He looked up and offered a polite smile.

“I’m Umino Iruka, from the Ninja Academy,” Iruka said with a respectful nod.

“Satomi Kyriū,” the man replied, closing his book. “I suppose this is about Yuki.”

“It is.”

Satomi gestured for him to follow, leading him to a back room that seemed to serve as a break area. There was a low table, a few cushions, and a kettle warming on a small stove.

Yuzuki followed them, still writing, and sat down with quiet ease. She didn’t speak, didn’t fidget. Just waited.

Iruka sat as well, setting the folder on his knees.

“Yuzuki Kyriū,” he began, voice measured. “Your name has come to the attention of the Academy. We believe you’re… uniquely gifted. The village would like to support your development, and we’d be honored to have you join our ranks.”

Silence.

She looked up at him, and the moment their eyes met, something shifted.

It wasn’t like looking at a child. Her gaze was sharp, almost unsettling in its intensity. It wasn’t cold—it was simply… analytical. As if she were dissecting his words before he even finished saying them.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she said flatly, like stating the weather.

Iruka blinked.

Satomi stepped in, as if to soften the moment. “It’s not the same school as before, Yuki. It’s a place to learn chakra control, combat—like your mother.”

“My mother died,” Yuzuki replied. “At twenty-seven. That’s not impressive.”

The air grew still. Iruka had been warned, but hearing it directly felt like a punch to the chest. Satomi didn’t react beyond a small shrug, accustomed to this kind of detachment.

“Perhaps you could explain a bit more about the curriculum?” Satomi asked, gently guiding the conversation back.

Iruka nodded, refocusing.

“At the Academy, you’ll learn chakra basics, taijutsu, shurikenjutsu, tactical analysis, medical fundamentals, survival techniques. There are also courses on the history of the village, cooperation, and teamwork. We build strong, balanced shinobi—mentally and physically.”

She closed her eyes. And for a moment, he saw her disappear inward—like she was scrolling through a hundred thoughts all at once.

When she opened them again, there was a subtle shift in her expression. Focused. Grounded.

“I’ll join the Academy,” she said.

Pause.

“But not now. I want to enter when I’m eight. Kiba and Akamaru will start then. I want to go with them.”

Iruka was momentarily stunned. Not by the refusal, but by the reasoning.

He watched her closely. This wasn’t procrastination. It was loyalty—unshakable, personal, deeply rooted.

To her, connection didn’t come easily. But once formed, it was absolute.

If she was going to take a step toward something as uncertain as a shinobi’s life, she would do it with the people who mattered most to her. That kind of loyalty wasn’t something you taught.

It was something you were born with.

He offered her a small smile.

“That’s acceptable. We can defer your entry. I’ll need you and your father to sign a commitment form, confirming that you’ll join the Academy when the time comes.”

He pulled the paper from his folder and laid it on the table.

Satomi read it carefully, glancing once at his daughter—already writing again in her notebook, as if the conversation had never happened.

He signed.

Iruka gathered the form, stood, and bowed politely. “Thank you. You’ll receive the rest of the paperwork soon.”

He stepped out of the workshop, the air outside brisk against his skin.

And let out a slow breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Bonus

Mission Report – For the Attention of Nara Shikaku

Filed by: Umino Iruka

Date: 12th of September, Year 226

Subject: Recruitment Evaluation – Yuzuki Kyriū

Overview:

Initial contact with the Kyriū family completed. Subject: Yuzuki Kyriū, female, 6 years old.

Meeting conducted at family-run workshop. Both Yuzuki and her father, Satomi Kyriū, were present.

Behavioral Notes:

• Subject exhibits highly atypical behavior for her age.
• Displays intense focus, emotional detachment, and advanced cognitive processing.
• Body language is unusually composed and efficient. Movements are deliberate, controlled, and fluid.
• Eye contact is penetrating; gives the impression of constant internal analysis.

Response to Recruitment Offer:

• Declined immediate entry to the Academy.
• Expressed willingness to join at age 8, to do so alongside companions Kiba Inuzuka and his ninken Akamaru.
• This request is strategic, not emotional. Indicates strong social loyalty to select individuals, likely one of few stable emotional anchors.
• Loyalty appears to be a key value to the subject—once formed, attachments are treated with long-term priority.

Parental Response:

• Satomi Kyriū showed initial hesitation but agreed after brief consideration.
• Commitment form signed. Deferred entry confirmed for two years from the current date.

Conclusion and Recommendation:

• Subject should be admitted to the Academy at age 8, as requested.
• Due to her unusual development (emotional, intellectual, and physical), regular evaluations are advised.
• Recommend quarterly observational follow-ups prior to enrollment, with a particular focus on emotional health and social integration.
• Subject presents high potential but may require specialized handling.

End of report.

— Chūnin Umino Iruka

Chapter Text

20.

Kakashi didn’t know why he came back at the same hour every Thursday.

He could smell Shizukusa- as she named it, and knew she was already waiting for him.

He never stayed too long, only an hour, and she would mostly talk. He usually wouldn’t bother to listen to a little girl for so long, even if he was paid he would manage to fake it instead of actually doing it.

Still, he listened to her. Because it was as fascinating as it was horrifying. He met her three months ago. Three months ago, she had never moulded chakra.

Now, it was overflowing in her body, flowing along with each move she made. Three months. Only three months and she did something that should take years .

“Oh, right! Look!” She suddenly stopped her long monologue about creating a new chakra pathway for Yin chakra . She took out a notebook from her pocket, opening it and showing him.

It was… gibberish. He frowned, focusing on the strange writing until he noticed it was a superposition of various letters.

“Since I improved the flow of my Yin Chakra, I can now synthesize thoughts to create concepts inside my knowledge!”

He rolled his eyes, although she could only see one of them, and let himself rest on his hands.

“You don’t make any sense you know,” he informed her dispassionately.

“I’m sorry. I still can’t find the right words to explain how my mind works,” she softly conceded. “But anyway, I guess what I tried to explain could be summarized by : I can think even better now.”

Kakashi snorted. To him, it didn’t seem like she needed to improve on that. Why did she seem obsessed with it… Maybe it was linked to her capacity. Her thirst for knowledge seemed to shape her into something always hungry for new information.

“Anyway, what was it about the new Chakra Pathway System you’re working on?” He oriented her back on tracks. The sheer concept was astounding, and sounded like wishful thinking. But she talked about it like it was almost already done.

“It’s kind of the result,” she replied, tapping the gibberish on her notebook. “I started to create a new flow dedicated to Yin chakra so it is conducted faster to my brain.”

“I see. What about learning to walk on trees? Did you start working on that?”

Kakashi observed Yuzuki as she spoke, her tone as composed as ever.

"Right. I can already walk on trees, Kakashi."

He blinked. That was… fast.

"Since when?"

"Six days after our second meeting."

That was a while ago. He let that sink in for a moment.

"It wasn’t difficult," she added. "I just had to adjust my chakra output."

Kakashi exhaled slowly, watching her carefully. Most students spent weeks on this exercise. Even prodigies like Itachi had required a structured approach. She, on the other hand, had apparently figured it out on her own in less than two weeks.

"Of course you did," he muttered, eyeing her with reluctant amusement.

She tilted her head slightly, as if gauging whether his response was approval or mild exasperation. He wasn’t entirely sure himself.

21.

“I think this is it,” Yuzuki declared after a close inspection of Akamaru after he ate the new pills. “Tell me if anything seems strange in the next few days. If you notice anything that is not like it’s supposed to be, do tell.” 

Akamaru nodded his head, and she patted his head, scratching the spot behind his left ear that made him wagging his tongue as his back paws scratched in the air.

“Thank you” Kiba said, taking Akamaru in his arms. “There is a guy we used to play with that always ate, and my mom told me it was because people of his clan need high calories to use their techniques. Do you think you could create high calorie pills?”

Yuzuki blinked. How interesting. A clan that needs calories to use their Jutsu? Why? Did their Jutsu consume a high amount of calories? Did it mean their technique relied on body extension, since they consumed calories? Or maybe strengthening that consumed a high amount of calories? The scrolls kept piling up to the point she almost took out her pipe, stopping herself just on time.

Since she got used to doing it in front of Kakashi, it was harder and harder to not do it in public.

She took a deep breath, focusing on her mind until she could see the Chakra Pathway System she was still working on. It was not done yet. If she didn’t actively conduct the Yin Chakra, its flow didn’t stay a steady source.

She channeled it with intent, and soon she seemed to zoom out , seeing all the scrolls side by side instead of piling up in a headache.

“I could, but I need someone from his clan to try them,” she informed him. “Do you think I could meet the boy that you used to play with?”

“I guess… Where will we meet up?”

Kiba didn’t seem thrilled, but since he was the one that asked, he couldn’t really refuse. She had to wonder why. He liked to play with other children, but he didn’t like it when they stopped them in town when they were going to the workshop.

More specifically, he didn’t like it when she talked to someone else.

Yuzuki didn’t really care.

“We can meet at the park,” she suggested.

This is where they went when they hung around her place, the Park in question wasn't far, and Kiba didn’t like to spend too much time indoors. He was more of a rolling in the dirt kind of guy.

He shrugged.

22.

Kiba , Akamaru and Chōji arrived at the park, and Kiba could already see Yuzuki sitting on their usual bench, writing in one of her notebooks.

Akamaru jumped from his shirt with a happy yip, running to her and getting her attention, her emerald eyes looking up with a thin smile.

She tucked her notebook in her pocket and rose, catching Akamaru in her arms with fluid ease when he inevitably jumped.

He heard Chōji glup on his side, making him smirk.

Chōji was a loner, the last time Kiba played with him was a year ago, and it was because he was kicked out.

Girls used to mock him for his weight, and Kiba could easily read his shyness in his corporal language.

“Good afternoon. I am Kyriū Yuzuki, it’s nice to meet you,” she greeted him with a slight polite bow, her voice soft.

Kiba felt a pang, jealousy showing its ugly head, and Akamaru jumped from her arms to go back to him, making him smile.

“A-Akamichi Chōji, nice to meet you!” Chōji stuttered, his shoulders squared, his arms stuck along his body in an unnatural way.

She nodded.

“It could be rebarbative if Kiba already told you, but I would like your help to develop high calorie pills. Pharmacology is a fascinating subject, hence I took interest in the challenge. In the end, it will be a win-win situation since I get to work on an interesting project, and you get a nice booster adapted to your clan’s techniques.”

Chōji blinked, bewildered by the continuous flow of words going out of her mouth in a long monologue.

It was pretty funny to observe Yuzuki interact with someone else, Kiba realized. He knew her well, he was used to her weird quirks, used to know that he was really dumb compared to her, and learned to be fine with that.

Yuzuki was different, but different didn’t mean bad. She was special, and being her friend made him feel special too.

“Hum… Okay…” was his hushed answer.

Then he froze. Kiba glanced at his friend and felt his heart jump. It had been a while since he last saw such an intense stare. He wasn't even the one she was looking at, and yet, he couldn’t help being caught in her gaze.

He remembered how unnerving it was to get her full, undivided attention. He smelled the air, and sure enough, the sweet scent that usually covered her was a little faded. Kiba knew she took some sort of medicine even if he never saw her taking it, and knew it had something to do with how she acted.

With trembling fingers, Chōji opened his frontal pouch and took out a chip, offering it to her.

Yuzuki blinked, a slow, confused expression taking over her neutral features.

Kiba stifled hardly his laugh, and couldn't help how funny it was to see Chōji so flustered and intimidated by Yuzuki to the point of offering her food . Even with the small amount of time Kiba had spent with the other boy, he knew how much he hated sharing his food, and especially his chips.

“Maybe a warning before your first analysis would have helped,” Kiba quipped playfully, a large smile pulling on his cheeks. “She doesn't want your chips Chōji,” he clarified for the other boy.

Chōji flushed a surprising shade of red, putting the chip back in its bag and muttering a flustered apology.

It was so awkward, and Kiba loved it .

A part of him felt reassured to know he was special to her. He was the only one who wasn't fazed by her unique quirks.

“What do you usually eat throughout the day?” she asked.

Oh boy, here it comes, Kiba thought. She was going full interrogator mode now. He knew how unbalanced it made one feel, since she shot question after question barely waiting for the end of the answer.

It forced to think fast, and it was unnerving to feel slow.

"Uh… Well… In the morning, I usually have a big bowl of okayu with pickled plums, sometimes with grilled fish or tamagoyaki. Then… uh… for lunch, I like to have something heavier, like tonkatsu with rice, or maybe oyakodon. If I’m out, I grab onigiri or yakisoba from the food stalls… and, uh, I always have some senbei or dango for snacks.” Chōji seemed to forget the situation the more he talked, enthusiasm rising his voice as he was talking about one of his favorite things.

“Dinner depends, but… usually, we have sukiyaki or shabu-shabu with plenty of meat and vegetables. And miso soup, of course. Sometimes ramen… or soba… or— uh—” he interrupted himself, getting flustered again when he realized he was a little too passionate about the subject.

“W-wait… Am I talking too much?” He shyly asked, dropping his gaze as he flushed for the second time in barely a few minutes.

He threw a hesitant glance to Kiba, looking for reassurance, and Kiba only smirked as an answer, enjoying the way he squirmed.

“It was a really thorough answer, thank you,” was Yuzuki’s factual answer before throwing her next question without any empathy (or rather, a lack of social skills as Kiba knew). “Is there some type of food your clan can digest easier, or on the contrary, harder?”

Chōji blinked, clearly not expecting such a question. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Kiba as if hoping for help, but he just shrugged.

"Uh… I dunno? We eat a lot of meat and rice… Stuff that makes us strong. My dad says fatty food is good for us, like pork belly or unagi. And miso soup. We have that all the time."

He paused, trying to think.

"But… uh… I guess things like natto or gobo aren’t great? They’re kinda hard to eat. And tofu is weird. It doesn’t really fill me up." Chōji frowned, suddenly aware of how serious he sounded. He rubbed the back of his head, mumbling : "Why are we even talking about this? This is weird…”

Yuzuki didn’t answer immediately, seeming to ponder on what Chōji told her. Kiba couldn't start to guess what was going on inside her head.

She always surprised him. The first time she showed concern for him had made him so happy and flustered he felt like he was floating in a cloud.

Then, there were small intentions that showed him she cared , like this time she changed the composition of his strengthening pills to accommodate his taste when he never said anything about it.

It made him realize that, slowly but surely after her birthday party, she learned to care.

Or this time she surprised Akamaru with a new brush for his fur. She had spent time looking for the perfect one for him. Had taken time to study the different kinds of brushes that were available before picking the best one. All of this because she had noticed he was losing his fur.

She was still strange and socially inept most of the time, but since Kiba met her, she had made clear progress.

“If I want to develop the pill, I need data,” she finally answered, her intense stare feeling a little. “If you invited someone to eat, you would ask him what he likes,” she added, and it was pretty on point, Kiba thought.

Once again something she had learned to do thanks to him. Since she was often blabbering about her projects, Kiba was on the receiving end of what sounded like gibberish most of the time, she used words he didn’t learn, words that sounded very scientific. She had learned to tone down her vocabulary for his benefit.

Again, it was another example of her evolution toward someone a little more “human”.

Chōji nodded his understanding, and once again she shot another question : 

“How does your clan metabolize your food intake?”

Chōji shuffled, mumbling a “I don’t know…”.

Yuzuki nodded. It was something that Kiba liked about her. She never made you feel dumb, at least, not in her behavior. If Kiba didn’t understand something, she explained, or if he couldn’t answer one of her questions about his body - she frequently asked updates since the strengthening pills needed to be adapted along his growth, she just gave up on the answer and tried to find out by herself without even a sight of a frown.

“May I touch you?” She then asked.

“Ye-W-What?” Chōji stuttered, stepping back and blushing again.

“I would like to analyse your chakra,” she explained with an even voice, waiting for his permission.

“S-sure…”

She flattened her hand on his sternum and closed her eyes. Chōji shuffled then stopped, unnaturally motionless. Kiba supposed he was worried about disrupting her. 

Which he would not, she analyzed his and Akamaru's chakra when he did their sequences after all.

She opened her eyes and dropped her hand by her side.

“Can we meet here next week at the same hour? I would like to make you eat various foods but first I need to create a Jutsu to read your metabolism,” she asked.

Chōji’s eyes lit up at the mention of food and he nodded twice with enthusiasm, earning a soft smile from Yuzuki.

“See you next week, thank you for your cooperation Chōji-san,” she slightly bowed with fluid movements.

They said their goodbyes, and Kiba followed her with Akamaru to her home.

In the end , Kiba thought, it wasn't that terrible to see Yuzuki meet new people .

Chapter Text

23.

Yuzuki was positively overworked. Her Yin Chakra Pathway was finally complete, and she could now manage to wait six hours between her Chizukusa intakes. She still needed it, of course, but she had a better control over her mind thanks to the Yin chakra, extending the duration of the effects.

This week had been intense. She had fifty active scrolls at all times throughout the day, mulling over the way to make a Jutsu that would read the metabolism in someone and translate it in datas on a mind scroll.

She was combining learning how to cook with studies and scientific books about the different types of fats, proteins and the way certain types of aliments acted on digestion to create dedicated clan’s recipes.

She discovered that different types of food had drastically different effects on the body's ability to absorb and utilize energy.

Fat-rich foods, such as braised pork belly and grilled eel, provided long-lasting energy, as fats were slowly metabolized into a stable energy reserve. Meanwhile, mochi acted as a sustained energy source, releasing glucose gradually, preventing sudden energy crashes.

She noted that proteins were not equal in their effects. Chawanmushi (savoury egg custard) and shabu-shabu (thinly sliced beef in hot broth) were easy to digest and quickly converted into muscle support and endurance, whereas tougher meats required longer digestion times.

Carbohydrates varied in efficiency too. Miso seemed to enhance digestion and metabolic function, while burdock root stir-fry and natto (fermented soybeans) slowed down digestion, requiring more energy to process than they provided.

Water-heavy foods, like tofu or congee, proved nearly useless in high-energy-demand situations, as they were low in calories and digested too quickly to provide lasting sustenance.

The challenge was to find the right balance: maximizing energy absorption while avoiding foods that either taxed digestion unnecessarily or failed to provide enough fuel. If she could pinpoint the ideal nutrient composition, she could create specialized dietary formulas that optimized physical performance and recovery. 

Her father and Kiba tasted what she made to give her feedback on the taste - she didn’t ask them, they just had decided to do it, and it was not really relevant to her but still, she indulged them and adjusted her recipes, although she pointedly ignored the lack of salt complaint. Salt was not good in high amounts for the body and Chōji consumed enough with chips, salt helped to hydrate, digest and strengthen muscles but that was based on a reasonable intake.

Which meant less salt, and to Kiba and her father a lack of it.

She was advancing way faster on cooking and creating adapted recipes based on her studies. Recipes which would need adjustment after she ran an Analysis Jutsu on Chōji while he ate and the next few hours.

Analysis Jutsu she had a hard time creating. She knew she theoretically needed nature chakra, Kakashi had told her about it in one of their meeting, but since he couldn’t use it -it was something that needed time and practice apparently, she didn’t start on her study.

She knew she would need a full undivided focus on it, and it would take time she didn’t have right now with all her projects, although she had already completed the four of them, Kiba gave her a new one that became four new projects in their turn.

She needed to learn how to cook it was more about creating muscles memories which took time , to study the human metabolism  which she was almost done , to study aliments  and again, she was pretty much done , to create a new jutsu she was nowhere near being done, additionally while she were at it, she created adapted recipes, and all of this was preliminary to the different ways to extract properties from various types of aliments and herbs to create a high calorie pill.

She almost sighed but she was buzzing with some kind of high, she was in control of her mind after all, and she progressed fast and steadily . She loved the way scrolls would reach the end with a definitive answer, loved the way Yin chakra allowed her to store them by type in her own mind library, at her beck and call.

It felt like years and like seconds, like timelines adding up to the other once they reached a conclusion. It was disconcerting but thrilling, headache inducing yet softening her brain.

Yin chakra was her best discovery, the fuel to her mind, her very own strengthener making the impossible possible, adapting to her intent…

A new golden scroll landed abruptly.

Shape the Unseen.

She forgot to breath as her mind erupted scrolls, taking a step back from the stove.

Thankfully, her father and Kiba were playing a card game in the living room. She quickly opened the window and stepped outside with a small impulse with chakra to jump without making any sound.

Kiba had really good hearing and she didn't want to show him yet that she smoked. He wasn’t a tattletale, but she wasn't a hundred percent sure that he wouldn't tell her father out of worry for her health.

She knew she was damaging her pulmons but she smoked the long pipe to limit it at best as she could the damage since the smoke had time to freshen while it travelled to her mouth.

She was working on a new herbal extract to inhale once mixed with hot water that would act on the burns of her pulmons, but it was a far project that she would do when she was not busy with more interesting matters.

She cracked a match on the wall and lit up her pipe after filling up the bowl. She had a little compartiment in her sleeve that she sewed last year to transport Shizukusa without it being noticed.

She deeply breathed in. Then she breathed out.

The raving scrolls in her mind faded out, slowly but surely scattering. 

Shape the Unseen.

Yes, that was it. Yin chakra was the answer from the beginning. Nature chakra was chakra filtered from any elemental chakra. It was extremely unnatural to create and harmful if mishandled, and it necessitated an extremely high chakra control. Even for her, it would take months.

Yin chakra was a part of her body, and could literally do what she wanted . It meant creating a new type of hand seals sequences that would allow her to make it flow outside but to stay connected with her mind . It would allow her to cast the Analysis Jutsu and get the data in a mind scroll.

With a sight, she tapped the ashes out of her pipe and stored it away in the holster attached to her forearm.

She was almost done with cooking, and even if there was still room for improvement, just like the pulmonary healing oil, it wasn’t a priority.

It was just about technique and movements. She still got the result she wanted anyway.

She climbed back up in the kitchen and landed in a crouch… Landed eyed to eyes with Akamaru.

The small dog sniffed her, cocked his head with a soft inquiring yip and she shrugged.

“It’s my medicine to be part of the world,” she explained softly.

Her canine friend nodded slowly and nuzzled her extended hand, and she scratched him behind the left ear with her other hand.

It wasn't like Akamaru could tell on her.

Chapter Text

24.

Contrary to the first time she met Chōji, he was almost relaxed. Kiba had told her multiple times how her gaze could be disturbing or intimidating when she was too deep in her thoughts.

She knew exactly when her gaze became intense. It was when she opened up at least forty scrolls at the same time.

Since the second golden scroll arrived, much like the first scroll, she had a hard time keeping a strong grip on her mind, new concepts and ideas surging in permanence.

She ended up smoking more and more.

Kiba and Akamaru greeted respectively Chōji with a wave and a bark.

She herself bowed slightly with a : “Good afternoon Chōji-san, I hope you are hungry.”

“Hi!” Chōji saluted them cheerfully. “I am always hungry!” he added with a smile.

She had understood from their first interaction that Chōji loved food. He loved to eat as much as she liked to study, which meant a lot .

They started to walk toward her house. She had already prepared everything and it was stored in bento boxes that she had put in an insulated bag to keep the heat. She did the same in another bag for cool food.

“What will I eat by the way? Did you get takeout from the main avenue?” Chōji asked excitedly.

Kiba snorted loudly, a smug look on his face.

“Man, you have no idea what’s waiting for you,” Kiba said knowingly. “You’re going to cry.”

That made Chōji lose all enthusiasm, looking at her the same way he looked at her last time, with a mix of fear and shyness.

“Kiba is lying,” she informed him. “I cooked you twenty different dishes and snacks I adapted from various recipes to match your nutritional need.”

“Oh…” Chōji mumbled. He seemed unconvinced. “Are there -huh, vegetables?” The way he said the word sounded oddly taboo, making her blink and pause.

“Only the ones that are pertinent for digestion and fat absorption. Most of the dishes contain meat or a few kinds of fish. I also did five types of mochi with fillings adapted to your diet for snacks, but I will need to study them separately, so you won’t be able to eat each of them successively. I also did different drinks, same process than the mochi’s.”

The more she spoke, the more Chōji perked up again. He was almost skipping for the rest of the way, munching on chips.

Her father was at the workshop so the house was empty when they went in. Chōji looked around curiously as they went into the living room, and he sat at the table with Kiba while she opened the first bag to take out a dozen bento boxes still hot to the touch.

She opened them in front of him, the aroma swiftly traveling in the air and enveloping the room in various food scents.

She took out a glass bottle containing one of the drinks she made, this one an Endurance Brew made with hazelnut milk, fermented sticky rice, brown sugar and cinnamon. It helped store energy faster and improved endurance over time.

Chōji’s eyes lit up with amazement, his hand trembling when he reached for the chopsticks she was handing him.

“Can I start?” He asked cheerfully.

“Wait,” she ordered softly.

Her hands started to form hand seals successively as she conducted her Yin chakra slowly from her mind to her fingers until it slowly passed her skin to flow toward Chōji.

Her hands had cramped multiple times when she created the hand seals sequence, unused to form so many of them, but she needed them for now.

She didn’t have a good enough control yet to do without, and it took time to improve her control.

Still, she was highly satisfied at the result, since the Analysis Jutsu was extremely polyvalent. She just needed to focus while she did the sequence on what she wanted to know. Metabolism.

Once it connected with the target, a scroll per information would form, meaning she could study the effects of the dishes separately even though he ate them successively.

Sure enough, she obtained a first scroll analyzing his metabolism after eating chips on the way.

“You can eat,” she allowed him once she was done with the hand seals.

“Thank you for the food!” Chōji happily said before starting to eat.

Her eyebrows knitted into a frown. He ate fast . Which meant scrolls apparated in a quick succession, each tracking the different meals and the consumption amount.

The speed in which the scrolls unrolled was a little dizzying. There was a lot of information flooding her mind each second.

She sat herself in seiza and closed her eyes. Until she cancelled her technique, Yin chakra would continually leave her body to aliment it on the target in a thin stream.

She slowly oriented her Yin chakra to her Yin Chakra Pathway, while simultaneously keeping her technique powered.

It was one of the hardest exercises she ever did with Yin chakra control.

When her scrolls stopped updating food intakes, she opened her eyes and stood up, discarding the empty bento boxes and taking out the mochi boxes.

“It was delicious! It missed salt to my taste but I feel so satisfied that it’s not that bothersome,” Chōji declared happily.

Kiba had left with Akamaru while she had closed her eyes, probably bored.

“From the right to the left : Chestnut paste and giant bee honey filling, purple sweet potato purée and roasted nuts, black azuki bean paste and lotus seed oil, wild cacao and pumpkin seed purée, chakra-infused berry compote and crushed almonds.”

Some of the ingredients, such as giant bee honey or chakra-infused berries, were imported from different countries, respectively from the Land of Flowers and the Land of Grass. They were pretty expensive, but her father had a good income with his workshop, and her mother had piled up a generous amount of money from the numerous high rank missions she did before her death.

“You can pick one to start, but you will have to wait thirty minutes before eating another kind. And you can only eat one with chakra-infused berries because it’s meant to be eaten once every six hours minimum,” she explained.

Chōji nodded seriously at her instructions and opted for the honey one first.

“It’s really good!” Chōji quipped happily. “It has a nice creamy texture, sweet and a little earthy with the chestnut.”

She nodded at the feedback, finding it a little more pertinent from him than from Kiba of her father. She could only hope Chōji's food taste was a clan generality.

The new scroll dedicated to the mochi was already stretching with data.

She would have to take her time to study all the data she had accumulated to adjust her recipes.

“Today we will only do calm activities such as playing cards or reading. Next week, we will do physical activities, I need to analyze your metabolism in various situations,” she declared, and Chōji’s cheeks stretched far in the happiest smile Yuzuki ever saw on someone’s face.

“There will be a next time?” He softly asked with wonder.

“At least four other times, then it will depend on the results,” she explained. “I take it you agree?”

Chōji nodded vigorously. She smiled.

25.

The scent of grilled meat and sizzling oil greeted Shikaku as he stepped into the familiar restaurant. The dim lighting, the hum of conversation, the faint clatter of chopsticks against ceramic—it was the perfect setting for an easy evening.

As expected, Chōza was already seated, a plate of steaming food in front of him. Inoichi was just settling in, waving lazily at their friend as he took a sip of tea.

Chōza, still chewing, gave a grunt of acknowledgment before swallowing. “Shikaku,” he finally greeted, nodding toward the empty seat.

Shikaku sat down with a sigh, stretching his arms behind his head before reaching for the menu. “Another long day?” Inoichi asked, smirking.

Shikaku exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead. “Yoshino’s decided that Shikamaru and I are too lazy for our own good. She’s been on a mission to make us clean the house from top to bottom instead of ‘lounging around like stray dogs.’”

Inoichi laughed openly, shaking his head. “That sounds like her.”

Chōza offered a sympathetic nod between bites. “She just wants to keep you both in check, you know. No offense, but you are a little lazy.”

Shikaku grunted. “That’s the point. Why fight it?” He waved down a waitress and placed his order. Chōza, naturally, ordered a second round of food.

As they settled in, Inoichi leaned back and casually steered the conversation toward his own family. “Ino’s been a handful lately,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “She’s getting more assertive, more independent. Sometimes, I feel like she’s running circles around me. A few years ago, she was just a kid clinging to my leg. Now she’s already bossing people around.”

Shikaku smirked. “Get used to it. Women have a way of doing that.”

Inoichi shot him a knowing look but didn’t argue.

Shikaku then turned his attention to Chōza, an eyebrow raised. “Speaking of kids, I hear Chōji won’t stop talking about a girl.”

Chōza’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so you’ve noticed too?” He leaned forward eagerly. “Her name’s Yuzuki. Chōji’s absolutely fascinated by her. She’s a genius, Shikaku. And I don’t mean just book smart—I mean beyond anything I’ve seen.”

Shikaku stiffened slightly at the name, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to sharp interest.

“She’s developing high-calorie pills for our clan,” Chōza continued, clearly amazed. “Not just copying existing recipes—creating new ones, ones that match our nutritional needs perfectly. She’s done more research in a few months than most would in years.”

Inoichi, arms crossed, gave him a skeptical look. “That’s quite a claim. Are you sure you’re not exaggerating? Kids are impressionable, and Chōji might be talking her up.”

Shikaku exhaled slowly. “No, Chōza isn’t exaggerating. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of her.” He took a sip of his drink before adding, “The first person to mention her was none other than Kakashi.”

That caught both of them off guard.

“Kakashi?” Inoichi repeated, frowning. “Hatake Kakashi?”

Shikaku nodded. “He’s been keeping an eye on her.” He glanced at Chōza. “Everything you said checks out. She’s been studying plant properties, how they affect shinobi bodies. She’s already created new medications that enhance physical energy and muscle growth in children.”

Chōza whistled, visibly impressed. Inoichi, however, narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Shikaku,” he said, voice quieter now, “I have to ask. A girl like that… Do we really understand what she’s capable of?”

Shikaku met his gaze, his own expression unreadable. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Chōza, shifting uncomfortably, added, “She’s still just a kid. Maybe she’s just… different. There’s no harm in that.”

Inoichi didn’t look convinced. “It’s not just about intelligence. It’s about control. If she’s this capable now, imagine what she’ll be in ten years. If she doesn’t follow Konoha’s rules, if she starts making her own…”

Shikaku sighed, rubbing his temple. “That’s exactly why we need to decide how to handle this.”

Chōza frowned. “You’re talking like she’s a threat.”

Shikaku shook his head. “Not yet.”

Silence settled over the table, the weight of the conversation pressing down on them.

Finally, Shikaku straightened, rolling his shoulders as he made his decision.

“I need to see her for myself,” he murmured. “Talk to her father. Figure out what’s going on in that mind of hers.”

His friends nodded, though there was still uncertainty in their expressions.

Then, with a sigh, he muttered under his breath:

“This is such a drag.”

26.

The scent of dried herbs clung to the wooden shelves, mixing with the faint bitterness of brewing tinctures. Satomi Kyriū had always found comfort in routine—the steady scrape of mortar against stone, the quiet precision of his work, the predictable flow of customers seeking remedies for ailments both common and rare.

But today, something unsettled him.

A presence.

He wasn’t sure when he first noticed the man outside his shop, leaning against a wooden post with arms crossed. He wasn’t looking directly at anything, but Satomi knew the difference between idle loitering and deliberate observation.

He forced himself to finish grinding the mixture, set the mortar aside, and wiped his hands on his apron. A breath, slow and steady.

The door creaked open.

Satomi looked up just as Nara Shikaku stepped inside.

The dim light of the workshop cast deep shadows over the sharp lines of his face. He moved with an ease that didn’t belong to a civilian—shoulders relaxed, posture loose but controlled. The kind of man who never needed to raise his voice to be heard.

Satomi kept his expression neutral. A man like this doesn’t walk into my shop without reason, he thought.

Shikaku’s eyes flicked over the shelves, the parchment-covered counter, the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling. He wasn’t interested in them. He was taking in the space, the details, him.

Satomi let the silence stretch, waiting.

Finally, the man spoke.

"Kyriū Satomi?"

Satomi inclined his head. "That’s me."

A pause. Then— "I came to talk about your daughter."

Satomi didn’t react immediately.

His hands remained at his sides, fingers pressing lightly against the edge of the counter. Not tight enough to tremble. Just enough to keep steady.

So, it had happened.

He had known this day would come. Kakashi’s interest alone had been a warning, but it was easy to forget since he was barely mentionned by his daughter. He remembered feeling relieved that someone as competent as Kakashi decided to teach her about chakra. It meant his girl would be safe while she explored this subject. But hearing it aloud, from someone like Nara Shikaku, made the reality settle like a cold stone in his gut.

He exhaled slowly.

"Yuzuki?"

Shikaku nodded, stepping further inside. "She’s drawn attention. From multiple sources."

Satomi didn’t like the way that sounded.

He chose his next words carefully. "Attention," he repeated.

Shikaku’s gaze was unreadable. "Exceptional talent doesn’t go unnoticed."

Satomi felt something tighten in his chest.

"I’ve seen my fair share of prodigies," Shikaku continued, tone even, deliberate. "But this… this is something else."

The words lingered, heavy with implication. Satomi said nothing. He wasn’t sure if speaking would make it better or worse.

Shikaku studied him for a moment, then spoke again.

"I want to understand her. Not as a future shinobi. As a person."

Satomi inhaled slowly, letting the words settle.

He knew what this was. He wasn’t naïve. This wasn’t curiosity. It was assessment.

A flicker of something—annoyance, protectiveness—curled in his chest. But still, he answered : "She’s intense."

It was the simplest, most honest way to put it.

Shikaku didn’t interrupt, so he continued.

"Once something interests her, nothing else exists. She will pull it apart, examine it from every angle, push until there’s nothing left to discover. She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t know how to."

He thought of the birdhouse she had painstakingly built, down to the precise placement of each tiny nail. Thought of her notebooks, filled to the brim with observations about herbs, sketches of chakra pathways, theories that most trained medics wouldn’t grasp.

He thought of Kiba and Akamaru, how she had adjusted their training sequences with calculated precision, yet still indulged them when they insisted on playing.

He thought of Chōji, how she had taken his clan’s unique metabolism as a challenge to solve, not for gain, not for recognition, but because the problem itself fascinated her.

"She is kind," he said at last. "In her own way."

A brief silence.

Then—

"And the Academy?" Shikaku asked. "What does she think of becoming a shinobi?"

Satomi sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She hasn’t expressed much interest in it."

A beat.

"She doesn’t reject it, but she doesn’t chase it either. Not like others her age."

Shikaku remained silent. Waiting.

Satomi hesitated, then admitted the thought that had been troubling him for years.

"She wants to understand chakra, yes. She wants to experiment, push the boundaries of what’s possible. But serving the village?" He shook his head. "That’s not what drives her."

His voice lowered slightly.

"Her mind… doesn’t work like ours. She doesn’t think in terms of duty or loyalty. She thinks in knowledge, in cause and effect, in patterns. I can’t say for certain that she’ll ever truly understand Konoha’s values."

He wasn’t sure if that was a dangerous thing to say. But it was the truth. And judging by the lack of surprise in Shikaku’s expression, it was a truth he had already suspected.

Shikaku let out a slow breath.

"That," he said finally, "is precisely the concern."

Satomi frowned.

"A genius like your daughter is a double-edged sword," Shikaku continued. "The brighter the flame, the more shadows it casts. And whether she intends to or not, she is already casting one."

Something cold settled in Satomi’s stomach.

"People are watching," Shikaku went on. "Not just me. Not just Kakashi. Others."

Satomi’s fingers curled against the counter, this time tight enough to tremble. He understood. This was beyond him now. He was a civilian. He had no influence, no way to stand against the decisions made behind closed doors.

If they decided she was an asset, if they decided she was a tool—what could he do?

Nothing. That realization wrapped around his ribs like steel wire. Shikaku seemed to see it, because he sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Relax," he said, though his tone wasn’t particularly reassuring. "No one is making decisions for her. Not yet. But if she keeps walking this path, she won’t have the luxury of avoiding them forever."

Satomi swallowed hard.

"So what do you want from me?"

Shikaku met his gaze.

"Prepare her."

Simple words. But they felt impossibly heavy. Satomi didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could. Shikaku took his silence as understanding. 

He turned toward the door but paused before stepping outside. Without looking back, he said—

"Do not underestimate what it means to be noticed, Kyriū-san."

And then he was gone.

27.

Yuzuki’s fingers traced idle patterns in the dirt, eyes half-closed, letting the afternoon sun gently warm her skin. The distant laughter of Kiba mixed with Akamaru’s playful barking, a soothing soundtrack to her thoughts.

Returning home, the peaceful feeling faded abruptly. Her father, usually calm and quietly absorbed by his own projects, sat at the kitchen table, hands folded tightly, his expression heavy, shadowed by worry.

“Dad?” she asked hesitantly.

Satomi looked up, startled as if caught deep in thought. His forced smile did nothing to ease the knot forming in her chest. Scrolls in her mind twitched, a clear signal of discomfort.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said gently, but his voice betrayed unease. Yuzuki frowned slightly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, carefully observing him.

Her father sighed and looked away briefly, gathering his words. “I had a visitor today. Nara Shikaku, from the village leadership.”

She tilted her head, scrolls instantly multiplying in her mind. Nara Shikaku, known for his intelligence and strategic mind. Why would someone like him visit their modest home?

“What did he want?” she asked carefully.

“He wanted to know more about you—your personality, your interests.” Satomi paused, meeting her intense gaze. “He said your potential has drawn attention from high-ranking individuals in Konoha.”

A strange feeling tightened in her chest. Yuzuki never considered herself someone who would attract attention. Her world revolved around knowledge, herbs, chakra theories—not recognition from others.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked cautiously.

Satomi reached out, gently placing a comforting hand on hers. “No, of course not. But your intelligence, your discoveries… they come with expectations. Expectations from the village.”

She pondered this quietly. Expectations were abstract, difficult to measure. The scrolls in her mind churned slowly, creating new patterns, questioning motives and consequences. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the notion of someone else’s expectations defining her actions.

“What did he ask exactly?”

“He wanted to know how you felt about joining the Academy, becoming a shinobi. Serving Konoha.”

She tilted her head slightly, uncertain. “I told you already, I’ll join the Academy when Kiba and Akamaru go. I’m not opposed to it.”

“I know,” Satomi nodded gently, “but Yuzuki, it’s more complicated than that. Becoming a shinobi isn’t only about knowledge or understanding chakra. It's about obedience, discipline, loyalty... They will expect you to dedicate yourself to the village. To put its needs above your own.”

Her fingers tightened unconsciously, her thoughts spiraling with discomfort. Loyalty, obedience… those were words she knew but never truly internalized. She lived through curiosity, through exploration—how could she commit blindly to something she didn’t fully comprehend?

Satomi seemed to sense her internal turmoil, his eyes softening with empathy. “I won’t force you, Yuki. But you must understand this clearly: your abilities make you valuable, and valuable people rarely control their own destiny entirely.”

“I don’t want to be controlled,” she replied quietly, a new scroll unfurling sharply with determination.

“I know,” Satomi answered, his voice gentle yet somber. “That’s why I need you to understand. When you enter the Academy, it won't just be another experiment or another project. It will define your path, your future.”

Yuzuki took a deep breath, processing his words. The weight of what he implied settled into her bones, unfamiliar and heavy. Her mind spiraled with possible scenarios, outcomes, obligations.

Finally, she looked up, resolve steadying her voice. “Then I'll be ready. I'll learn what I must.”

Satomi smiled softly, relief mixing with a lingering sadness in his eyes. “Good.”

Yet, despite her confident words, an unsettling thought lingered in her mind. For the first time, Yuzuki wondered if readiness alone would ever truly be enough.

Chapter Text

28.

Yuzuki sat quietly on her bed, the soft glow of moonlight illuminating the room through the window. Tomorrow was her first day at the Academy, and sleep felt impossibly distant, crowded out by relentless thoughts.

She closed her eyes, memories unfolding gently like familiar scrolls.

Kiba and Akamaru appeared first, their bright, energetic presence filling her chest with warmth. She remembered clearly the day they first met—their laughter echoing through the trees, the unspoken ease with which they’d accepted her peculiarities. They didn't expect her to be like them; they simply allowed her to exist, comfortably different.

Kakashi, too, had carved his own place among her thoughts—a quiet, unobtrusive presence, casually guiding her discoveries without ever pushing too hard. Somehow, he had become a reassuring figure, his disinterest oddly comforting because she knew it wasn't apathy—just a gentle respect for boundaries she didn’t fully understand yet.

Her mind drifted further, landing softly on Chōji. The memory surfaced with ease—the Akimichi home, warm and filled with delicious aromas. His parents had welcomed her with genuine kindness and gentle curiosity.

“Welcome, Yuzuki-chan!” Chōji’s mother greeted her warmly, guiding her into their spacious dining room filled with the enticing scent of grilled meats and fresh spices. “Chōji has told us so much about you.”

Chōji stood beside his father, beaming brightly, his excitement barely contained. She placed her carefully packed boxes on the table, meticulously opening each lid, revealing carefully crafted dishes designed specifically for their clan.

“What are these?” Chōji’s father asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Meals tailored for optimal chakra absorption and metabolism,” Yuzuki replied calmly, her voice measured and confident. “The rice is enriched to enhance energy reserves; the grilled eel and pork belly are balanced precisely for your specific nutritional requirements.”

Chōji eagerly picked up a pair of chopsticks, hesitating only a moment before diving in. His face lit up instantly.

“This…this is amazing!” he exclaimed between mouthfuls, excitement shining in his eyes.

She watched carefully, feeling quiet satisfaction as his parents tasted the food, exchanging looks of amazement and pleasure.

“And these snacks?” his mother asked softly, indicating a small tray of carefully arranged mochi.

“Mochi filled with chestnut paste, imported honey from the Land of Grass, and chakra-infused berries from the Land of Flowers. They're designed as energy boosters between main meals.”

Chōji reached eagerly for one, chewing with delight before beaming at her. “This is amazing, Yuzuki!”

“Thank you,” she replied, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest.

Finally, she produced a small vial, carefully presenting it to them. “And this is a high-calorie pill I designed specifically for your clan's metabolism. It’s compact, portable, and should immediately replenish your energy reserves during combat or training.”

Chōji’s father eyes widened, gleaming with genuine admiration. “You made this just for us?”

She nodded simply, unsure why his excitement made her heart feel oddly lighter.

“We’re truly grateful, Yuzuki-chan,” his mother said earnestly, eyes gentle and sincere.

That moment stayed with her. Chōji’s bright, grateful smile. His parents’ genuine appreciation. It had felt good—comforting in a way few things did.

Yet, as the memory faded, her thoughts darkened. Amid their warmth and acceptance, she had glimpsed a troubling truth—the uncertainty of belonging, the heavy burden of expectations she didn’t fully understand.

She inhaled deeply, letting the memory settle back into the ordered scrolls of her mind, its gentle warmth mingled uneasily with lingering shadows.

Yet beneath these gentle memories, darker currents tugged persistently at the edges of her consciousness.

She remembered clearly the confusion she'd felt over the past year, grappling to understand her place within Konoha. Its rules, expectations, and ideals swirled around her like mist—tangible, yet impossible to grasp fully. Loyalty, duty, obedience... Words that sat strangely on her tongue, concepts too abstract for her analytical mind to internalize comfortably.

It was during this confusion that another scroll appeared in her mind—black, starkly different from the gold ones she cherished:

They see what I show.

She had stared at it for days, uncertain and uncomfortable, turning the concept over and over in her thoughts until clarity finally settled over her like cold water.

She understood what it meant.

To protect herself, she needed to show the village what it wanted to see. Outwardly, she would embrace their expectations, reflect their ideals, and behave as they wished her to behave. Internally, she would remain true to herself—curious, analytical, detached.

The revelation was unsettling. It felt unnatural, alien.

But necessary.

With a soft sigh, Yuzuki finished packing her bag for tomorrow. Her fingers lingered briefly on a notebook, the pages blank and waiting to be filled with new knowledge.

Excitement flickered quietly at the thought of new discoveries. Yet anxiety simmered alongside it, a nagging unease at the thought of being surrounded by children so vastly different from herself. Could she endure their confusion, their questions, their slow pace?

She shook the thought away, breathing deeply.

Tomorrow would come, and she would face it as she always had: observing, learning, adapting.

Only now, she had one more skill in her arsenal—one she wished she never needed.

She had learned how to lie.