"Could someone tell me why he is here?"
Reiji didn't bother lowering his voice. He didn't need to. The irritation had already settled too deeply to hide, coiling between his shoulders and jaw, tightening both. He leaned back slightly on the wooden bench, one arm resting against the table, his eyes fixed on the blond across from him.
Minato blinked.
Actually blinked—slow, confused—glancing left, then right, as if checking whether someone else had been addressed.
Something in Reiji's temple twitched.
Unbelievable.
Nawaki had 'invited' him. That had been the point. A small, controlled step—something normal. Dango after the exercise. Nothing complicated. He'd accepted it, even tolerated the idea of Kushina being there, maybe Mikoto too.
That would have been manageable.
This—
This was not.
The table was full. Worse, it was loud. Movement everywhere. Tsume leaned across the table to steal from Kasumi's plate; Kasumi barely reacted, shoulders slumped like she might fall asleep face-first into the dango at any moment. Arata chewed like he hadn't eaten in days. Nawaki sat slightly turned away, using Arata as a physical barrier while pretending not to hear anything directed his way.
And Minato—
Sitting directly in front of him.
Calm. Relaxed. Present.
Reiji exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Why? What's the problem?" Arata asked from the side, not even looking up from his food.
Reiji shifted his gaze just enough to acknowledge him, his expression flat.
"It was supposed to be a celebration," he said. "We won. The losing team has no place here."
Arata swallowed, then shrugged.
"But I'm from the losing team too, though."
Reiji didn't hesitate.
"Exactly. So fuck off too."
"Hey!"
"So me and Kasumi should also leave, Reiji?"
The voice came from the other side—quieter, but sharp enough to cut through the noise.
Reiji froze.
Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head.
Kushina was looking at him, one brow raised, thoroughly unimpressed.
Reiji held her gaze for a second, then exhaled, lifting a hand in a small, conceding gesture.
"…That's not what I meant."
It was—but arguing that would only make it worse.
The table didn't quiet. If anything, it settled into a more comfortable chaos now that the initial tension had broken. Tsume laughed at something Kasumi muttered without lifting her head. Nawaki leaned further away from Reiji, suddenly very interested in Arata's plate. Mikoto sat across from him, elbow propped on the table, chin resting in her hand, watching everything with a faint, satisfied smirk.
Kushina, beside her, didn't bother hiding her amusement.
And Minato—
Still sitting there like none of this concerned him.
What a disaster…
Kushina sighed, shaking her head.
"Seriously, Reiji… you should stop antagonizing Minato. What's your problem with him, anyway?"
"Ah! See? I'm not the only one noticing it!" Arata added immediately, leaning forward with interest.
Reiji closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that might ease the pressure building there.
"I don't have a problem with him."
"Then act like it."
"I am."
Kushina's gaze flattened.
"Reiji," she said, "you glare at him like he insulted your entire bloodline."
Reiji opened one eye slightly.
"That's just my face."
A pause.
"…That's worse."
Nawaki snorted, barely holding it in.
"Yeah, no, she's right. You look like you're planning a murder half the time."
Reiji turned his head just enough to look at him.
"I usually am."
A brief, uncomfortable silence followed.
"…He's joking, right?" Nawaki asked, glancing around.
"No," Kasumi muttered, her head still resting on the table.
Mikoto leaned forward slightly, her smirk sharpening.
"Just admit it," she said. "You're jealous."
Reiji didn't look at her at first.
"Of what?"
"Minato." She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "He's stronger, smarter, and people actually like him."
That got his attention.
Reiji turned fully this time, meeting her gaze.
"And yet here you are," he said evenly, "talking to me."
A small silence followed.
Arata choked mid-bite.
Kushina pressed her lips together, shoulders shaking.
Mikoto's eye twitched.
"You—"
Reiji didn't let her continue.
"You should stop doing that, Mikoto."
"Doing what?" she snapped.
"Trying to get my attention." His tone didn't change. "I'm not interested in loud girls with no self-control."
Tsume barked out a laugh.
"Damn."
Mikoto flushed instantly, her posture snapping upright.
"I am not—! You—! And you look like a girl!"
Reiji raised an eyebrow, unfazed.
"Then you should feel right at ease."
Nawaki lost it, laughter spilling out without restraint. Arata doubled over beside him, nearly dropping his skewer.
Mikoto opened her mouth again—then hesitated, clearly searching for something better and finding nothing.
The moment stretched—
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Mikoto-san."
The voice cut in smoothly.
Too smoothly.
Reiji's attention shifted immediately.
Minato.
Still smiling.
Warm. Polite. Perfectly placed.
Everyone turned.
"Rejection happens to everyone," Minato continued, his tone gentle—almost encouraging. "What matters is how you handle it."
A pause.
"You just have to keep trying."
Tsume turned slowly toward Mikoto.
"…Oh."
Kushina followed, eyes widening slightly.
"…Wait."
Arata grinned immediately.
"Yeah, Minato's right. Don't give up, cousin. You might succeed one day."
"You—! Shut up!"
Mikoto rounded on him instantly, flustered, furious, completely thrown off balance.
Reiji leaned back slightly, watching it unfold with quiet satisfaction, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.
Then—
He looked at Minato.
Minato met his gaze immediately.
And smiled.
Not the same one.
Not the soft, clueless one he'd been wearing until now.
There was something else in it—faint, almost playful.
Reiji's eyes narrowed.
…What a two-faced bastard.
Reiji let the conversation settle after the laughter, giving it just enough time to feel natural. The noise around the table softened into something looser, more unfocused—Nawaki still grinning to himself, Tsume picking idly at her food, Kushina chewing with more force than necessary.
It was the kind of moment most people would leave alone.
He didn't.
"So… why were you the carrier?"
Kushina paused mid-bite, her hand stopping halfway to her mouth. She blinked once, caught between chewing and answering.
"What do you mean?"
Reiji didn't look at her. His gaze stayed lowered, idly tracing the grain of the table as if the question hadn't been directed at anyone in particular.
"Did you volunteer," he said evenly, "or did they put you there?"
A brief pause—just long enough to register hesitation.
"I volunteered."
That made him look up.
His head turned past her without delay, his attention locking onto Minato.
"Then why give it to her?" His voice flattened, losing what little casualness it had carried. "You should've held it yourself."
Minato was already watching him. He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the question rather than reacting to it.
"Like you giving it to Enji made sense?"
Reiji's eyes narrowed.
"You know that's different."
"Do I?"
Reiji leaned forward a fraction, forearms resting against the table now, his posture shifting—subtle, but deliberate.
"You were the strongest on your team," he said. "The safest option was obvious."
"Hey." Kushina's voice cut in, sharp and immediate. "I'm right here."
Reiji didn't glance at her.
"Giving it to her cost you the mission."
Minato didn't move.
"She wanted it."
That slowed him—just slightly.
"…What?"
Minato scratched the back of his head, easy, unbothered, like they weren't even having the same conversation.
"She asked. So I gave it to her."
Reiji's gaze slid sideways.
Kushina had suddenly found her skewer very interesting.
"…You forced him?" Nawaki snorted, already leaning back with a grin. "That's just sad."
"Shut up!"
Reiji didn't linger on them. His attention snapped back to Minato.
"And you agreed."
"Yes."
A small pause settled between them, tighter now.
Reiji's eyes sharpened.
"Why?"
Minato met his gaze without hesitation.
"Why not?"
There it was again.
That tone.
Unbothered. Certain. As if the answer were obvious.
Reiji felt his jaw tighten, just slightly.
"Because it wasn't the best decision."
Minato didn't react.
"And who decides that?"
Reiji stilled.
For a moment, he simply watched him, scanning for anything—hesitation, doubt, a crack in the surface.
Nothing.
He means it.
"…You're serious," Reiji muttered.
Minato didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Reiji clicked his tongue softly, irritation threading through the motion.
"Your decision lost you the mission."
"Maybe we made a mistake," Minato said easily. "We'll do better next time."
Reiji's fingers tapped once against the table—a small, controlled movement.
"Your mistake," he said, quieter now, more focused, "or theirs?"
That landed.
The shift was immediate. The small movements around the table stopped—Nawaki's grin fading, Tsume's hand going still, even Kushina pausing.
Minato didn't look away.
"We're a team," he said. "So it's ours."
Reiji leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"Even if they slow you down?"
"They didn't."
A beat.
Reiji exhaled quietly through his nose—something close to a scoff, but restrained.
"Stop pretending."
Minato's gaze shifted—just a fraction.
Subtle.
But Reiji caught it.
"You see it," he pressed, his voice lower now, more precise. "You know you're better."
The air around them tightened, conversation at the other tables fading into background noise.
"And yet you act like you're not."
Minato didn't answer.
Reiji tilted his head, studying him, irritation sharpening into something colder.
"I hate that."
That did it.
Not much—but enough. Something moved behind Minato's eyes, a slight shift in focus, a tightening that hadn't been there before.
Then—
"…Then why are you here?"
Reiji stilled.
Minato's tone hadn't changed. Still calm. Still controlled.
"If everyone around you is beneath you… why sit with them?"
Silence.
Reiji didn't answer.
Didn't blink.
He just stared.
Minato held the gaze without shifting, the space between them tightening into something heavy and quiet—
"—Oh my god, both of you are insufferable."
The sharp crack of wood against the table snapped the moment apart.
Kushina slammed her dango stick down, leaning forward, her eyes blazing between them.
"Seriously—what is wrong with you two?"
Reiji didn't move.
"This doesn't concern—"
"It does!" she cut in immediately. "You've been talking like I'm not even here!"
A beat.
"You're arguing about me, idiot."
Reiji's gaze shifted to her at last—slow, deliberate.
"Then explain it," he said. "You took a role you couldn't handle."
Kushina leaned in just as much, meeting him without hesitation.
"So what?"
Reiji frowned.
"So what?"
"Yes, so what?" she shot back. "It was one exercise."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
Reiji's voice sharpened.
"You failed. That has consequences."
Kushina's eyes flashed.
"And what? I'm supposed to never try anything unless I'm already the best?"
"Yes."
Silence.
Then—
"That's stupid."
Nawaki choked on his drink beside them, coughing into his sleeve while Tsume let out a short laugh.
Reiji didn't react.
"It's efficient."
Kushina scoffed, shaking her head, strands of red hair shifting with the motion.
"It's cowardly."
Reiji rolled his eyes, already looking away—but she didn't stop.
"You talk about being strong all the time," she continued, her voice rising, "but all you do is stay where you're already good."
A brief pause, just long enough for it to settle.
"That's not strength."
Reiji's gaze snapped back to her, sharper now.
"It is."
"No," she fired back instantly. "That's fear."
The table went completely still.
Even the background noise seemed to dip.
Reiji's expression hardened, something colder settling behind his eyes.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then explain it."
He didn't.
Didn't even try.
For a moment, nothing moved—no one spoke—
Then—
"She wanted to try."
Both of them turned.
Minato hadn't shifted. Still seated the same way. Still calm.
"And I trusted her."
Reiji scoffed lightly.
"And that trust lost you the mission."
"Maybe."
A pause.
"But next time, she'll do better."
Kushina blinked.
Once.
Then her eyes narrowed.
"…Can you not do that?"
Minato tilted his head slightly.
"Do what?"
"Talk like I'm not here."
A beat.
"I didn't ask you to answer for me."
Minato didn't push back. Didn't explain. Didn't defend.
"…That's fair."
Kushina exhaled, frustration easing slightly as her shoulders dropped.
"And stop acting like everything's fine," she added, gesturing vaguely between them. "It's annoying."
Minato blinked once.
"…I don't think it is."
"You look like you do."
A small pause.
"…Then I'll fix that."
No resistance.
No defensiveness.
Just acceptance.
Kushina stared at him for a moment, thrown off by how easily he yielded, her irritation losing some of its edge.
"…You're both annoying."
She pointed at Reiji.
"You're too stiff."
Then at Minato.
"And you—stop trying to smooth everything over. It's irritating."
A brief pause.
"…You're too nice."
Silence stretched again, looser this time, the tension bleeding out in uneven pieces.
Reiji leaned back in his seat, arms folding loosely across his chest as his gaze drifted away from her.
"…What are you," he muttered, voice low and dry, "our mother?"
Kushina stared, her expression caught somewhere between irritation and disbelief. She didn't snap back immediately this time. That alone was enough to register.
"…I mean…"
Nawaki hesitated, scratching the back of his head, his eyes flicking toward Kushina again.
"…Kushina, you kind of sound like a mom right now."
Arata choked immediately, coughing into his sleeve as he tried—and failed—to hold it in. Tsume let out a short, sharp snort, not even bothering to hide it.
Kushina's head snapped toward Nawaki.
"I do NOT—!"
He flinched, one hand lifting instinctively as though it might shield him from the reaction.
"I'm just saying!"
Reiji leaned back slightly, the tension at the table finally loosening in a way that felt natural this time—laughter bleeding into the space, voices overlapping again, the sharp edges of the earlier exchange dulling into something lighter.
He didn't add anything.
He didn't need to.
The moment had already shifted.
Conversation fractured into smaller pieces after that. Tsume resumed talking over Kasumi, who looked no more awake than before. Arata kept laughing under his breath, occasionally throwing in comments that only made Kushina more irritated. Nawaki tried to recover, speaking faster than usual now, as if he could smooth over something that had already passed.
Reiji let it all happen without joining in.
Then his focus turned inward.
…He'd pushed it too far. Again.
It was a familiar pattern, one he recognized the moment it settled into place. Being around Minato did that. It pulled something out of him that he didn't entirely keep under control. The conversation stopped being about anything useful and turned into something more personal. A test. A challenge.
Pointless.
He'd had a clear objective in coming here. Something simple. Sit. Eat. Talk. Close the gap with Nawaki—build something that might actually matter later.
Instead—
Same result.
He'd antagonized them. Pushed until someone reacted. Forced the dynamic into something confrontational.
And then Kushina stepped in.
Reprimanded him.
The thought settled poorly.
Reiji's jaw tightened slightly, faint tension running along its line before he forced it still.
Unnecessary.
He shifted his gaze.
Minato was already looking at him.
Of course he was.
He gave a helpless smile, shoulders lifting in a light shrug, as if to say there wasn't much to be done about it.
Reiji scowled.
It came instinctively.
Then he looked away, cutting off the contact without hesitation and folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the bench again.
Reiji noticed it before anyone said anything.
Minato's posture changed—subtle, but clear if you were watching for it. His shoulders drew in, his expression tightening just enough to break the easy calm he'd been holding all evening. He dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath that didn't quite reach the table.
Reiji blinked once, his attention sharpening, then followed the direction of Minato's gaze.
A man had just stumbled into the stall.
Early twenties, maybe. Too loud for the space, laughter spilling out of him as he walked, one arm slung around each of the women at his sides. His steps were loose and uneven, but there was no hesitation in them—only the careless confidence that came with being too drunk to notice anything around him. The smell reached their table a second later, sharp and unmistakable.
Reiji frowned slightly.
He knew that face.
He'd seen it before—somewhere. Not often, but enough for it to register. Not a civilian. Not random.
Before he could place it, the man stopped mid-step.
His head turned.
Locked onto their table.
Then he moved.
Straight toward them.
Minato visibly shrank.
Not metaphorically—actually shifted back into his seat, shoulders curling in, as if making himself smaller might let the problem pass him by.
Reiji's eyes narrowed slightly.
Interesting.
"Ooooh—! Isn't that my dear disciple!" the man boomed, already too close, his voice cutting through the surrounding noise. "What are you doing here? Out with your girlfriend?"
His gaze slid to Reiji.
Then back to Minato.
He winked.
What did he just say?
"Uh… sensei," Minato started, his voice tighter than Reiji had heard before, "they're my classmates. And this person is… well…"
A beat.
"…a boy."
The man—Jiraiya—blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His eyes moved between them again, slower this time, reassessing.
Then he nodded, slow and thoughtful.
"Well… I'm not one to judge," he said, resting a heavy hand on Minato's shoulder with exaggerated seriousness. "As long as you're happy."
Reiji stared at him.
Flatly.
I will kill him.
"Jiraiya-niisan?"
Jiraiya froze.
The shift was immediate. His body stilled before his head turned—slow, deliberate, as though he already knew what he was going to see and didn't want to confirm it.
Nawaki.
Recognition hit.
Then something else.
"Oh… Nawaki. What a surprise," Jiraiya said, his voice trembling. "How are you today? Ah—and Kushina-chan too, of course."
Kushina narrowed her eyes, her earlier amusement gone, replaced by something sharper. More suspicious.
"…Fine," she said slowly. "Why are you here? And who are they?"
Jiraiya straightened at once, his posture snapping back into something far more controlled.
"Who? Them?" He gestured vaguely at the two women still clinging to him. "Ah—just friends, you know. I helped them earlier, and they insisted I join them. Completely innocent. Purely amicable."
He glanced down at them.
"…Right?"
They blinked, clearly not following—
"Actually," Jiraiya cut in quickly, already pulling out his purse, "why don't you find us a place? Food's on me."
Coins clinked as he pressed them into their hands.
The women exchanged a look.
Then smiled.
Knowing.
And left without another word.
Jiraiya watched them go, his posture holding for exactly one second—
Then he sagged.
Jiraiya straightened again just as quickly, his expression shifting into something more serious as he stepped closer to the table and placed a hand on Nawaki's shoulder.
"Nawaki."
"…Yes?"
"You love your big brother, right?"
Nawaki blinked.
"You mean Orochi-niisan?"
"No—me!" Jiraiya snapped, genuinely offended. "Anyway, that's not the point. It's very important that you don't tell your sister you saw me today."
Nawaki tilted his head.
"…Why?"
Jiraiya leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing something critical.
"You know your sister. She misunderstands things. Gets jealous easily. If she hears I was out with other girls…"
He shuddered, dramatic enough that even Kasumi paused to watch.
Nawaki stared at him, unimpressed.
"…It's fine, though? She doesn't like you like that. You're a friend. On a good day."
Silence.
Jiraiya clutched his chest as if he'd been struck.
"How could you say that to your future brother-in-law!?" he demanded. Then, just as quickly, he leaned in again. "Anyway—promise me."
Nawaki hesitated.
Then shrugged.
"…Sure."
"Good."
Jiraiya exhaled again, visibly relieved, before straightening and finally looking around the table.
"Now then—introductions?"
"Sure," Nawaki said, more at ease now. "That's Jiraiya—one of my sister's teammates."
"I'm also this blondie's sensei," Jiraiya added, pointing at Minato with a grin.
Minato let out an awkward laugh.
"…Yeah."
"These are my classmates," Nawaki continued, gesturing around the table. "You already know Arata. The rest are Kasumi Nara, Tsume Inuzuka, Mikoto Uchiha—and Homura Reiji."
Jiraiya blinked.
"Homura?"
His attention sharpened immediately.
"You're Homura-senpai's son?"
"My name is Homura," Reiji replied flatly. "So yes."
Jiraiya squinted slightly, studying him now.
"…Soichiro's kid? Mitokado's grandson?"
"Yeah. What of it?"
Jiraiya leaned back a fraction, something like surprise crossing his face—quick, but real.
"…Huh. Nothing. Just didn't expect it."
His gaze moved over Reiji again, slower this time, more deliberate.
"You don't really look like them."
Reiji held his gaze without shifting.
"I take after my mother."
A brief pause followed.
Jiraiya stared a moment longer.
Then—
A slow grin spread across his face.
"…Yeah," he said. "I can see that."
Another beat.
"…Maybe a bit too much."
Reiji's eyes narrowed.
"You look like a girl."
Silence.
Reiji blinked once.
Slow.
The scowl came immediately after.
Jiraiya snapped his fingers, laughing.
"Ah! There it is! That's the Homura face right there!"
He burst out laughing.
"Sensei…"
Minato's voice cut in, quieter now.
Jiraiya glanced back over his shoulder, already stepping away.
"Ah, I get it," he said easily. "I know when I've overstayed my welcome."
His gaze swept across the table, lingering a fraction longer on Minato before flicking briefly to Reiji—sharp, measuring, and gone just as quickly.
"Enjoy your lunch, kids."
He winked.
Then turned and walked off toward the far side of the stall, disappearing into the crowd where the two women had gone.
The noise of the place filled the space he left behind almost immediately.
Minato exhaled.
A long, quiet breath—his shoulders dropping as whatever tension had been there bled out of him.
Reiji watched that.
Filed it away.
"So," he said after a moment, his tone neutral, "you have a sensei?"
Minato let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
"…Yeah."
There was still a trace of embarrassment there, but it didn't linger.
"He's… a bit much sometimes," he admitted, glancing briefly toward where Jiraiya had disappeared, "but he's good at what he does."
There was no hesitation in that last part.
Reiji noted it.
He didn't respond immediately.
Instead, his gaze lowered slightly, his attention turning inward as he replayed the interaction—Minato's reaction, the familiarity, the ease beneath the embarrassment.
A teacher.
The thought settled heavier than expected.
It explained things.
Minato's level—his control, the consistency in his execution, the way his fundamentals never slipped—had always been clean. Too clean to be entirely self-taught.
Reiji had assumed talent.
He still did.
So he wasn't alone…
His fingers shifted slightly against the table, a small, unconscious movement.
Someone taught him.
"…I didn't know Jiraiya-niisan was your teacher," Nawaki said.
Minato shrugged lightly.
"Yeah. I don't really advertise it," he said. "And it just… never came up."
A brief pause.
"He's busy most of the time anyway. He's not in the village that often, so it's not like I get constant training or anything."
Reiji nodded once, slow.
Still enough.
"Even so," Nawaki added, "having him as a teacher explains a lot."
Across the table, Mikoto leaned forward slightly, curiosity slipping through.
"Why?" she asked. "He's that good? Who is he exactly?"
Before Minato could answer, Nawaki spoke again, more comfortable now.
"He's one of the Hokage's students," he said. "Like my sister."
That shifted the weight of the conversation immediately.
"He's not around much," Nawaki continued, "always outside the village, doing missions or whatever—but he's the real deal."
Kushina crossed her arms, her expression tightening slightly.
"I don't like him," she said bluntly. "Tsunade-neesan always told me to be careful around him."
Reiji glanced at her briefly.
Noted.
Mikoto turned back to Minato.
"So how did he end up being your teacher?"
Minato's posture shifted again—subtle, but there.
His gaze dipped briefly toward the table before lifting again.
"He… knew my father," he said.
A short pause.
"I asked him to teach me. After…" He trailed off, then finished more simply, "after everything."
Silence settled.
No one pushed.
Mikoto nodded once and leaned back, letting it drop.
The conversation moved on after that—lighter, scattered, overlapping again.
Reiji didn't follow it.
***
The noise of the stall faded gradually behind him as Reiji moved through the village streets. The evening air was cooler now, carrying the faint scent of grilled food and smoke still clinging to his clothes. The sky had begun to darken, the last light of day slipping between rooftops and stretching long, uneven shadows across the path ahead as lanterns flickered to life one by one.
His steps remained steady, measured, unhurried—but his thoughts refused to settle with the same discipline.
That had been a first.
Reiji's gaze lowered slightly as he walked, his attention drifting inward without losing awareness of his surroundings. He had eaten outside before—quick, practical stops between training sessions or errands, meals reduced to function rather than experience. That wasn't unfamiliar.
But this had been different.
A table. Noise. Voices overlapping without structure. Movement in every direction. Distractions he hadn't chosen—variables he couldn't fully account for. People. Too many of them, too close, each acting without restraint or pattern.
His fingers shifted faintly at his side, a small, unconscious adjustment.
He didn't know what to make of it.
He hadn't enjoyed it—not in any way he could clearly define. It had been inefficient. Chaotic. Unpredictable in ways that served no purpose.
And yet—
He hadn't hated it either.
The food had been good. Simple, but well made.
The company…
…tolerable.
That alone made him slow slightly, the thought settling where it didn't quite belong. His gaze shifted briefly toward a window as he passed, catching the faint reflection of lantern light against the glass.
No stares.
No lowered voices.
No tension directed at him.
He hadn't felt it—not once.
Reiji's pace slowed by a fraction more, the realization sharpening as he examined it. The absence stood out more than its presence ever had.
…Normal.
The word didn't sit right.
It lacked weight. Definition.
He wasn't used to it.
Was it because of them? A Senju at the table. An Uchiha. Others tied to names that carried their own gravity. Or was it simpler—just children, still too removed from the village's deeper currents to care?
His jaw shifted slightly.
…Or had he misjudged it before?
The thought lingered longer than he allowed most things to, circling once, twice—then shifting without warning.
What would it be like?
His steps slowed again, barely noticeable, but enough that his awareness caught it.
To sit like that—
Across from his father.
No instruction. No correction. No expectation pressing down between words.
Just… that.
The image felt foreign. Ill-fitted.
Unrealistic.
And yet, for a brief moment, he didn't dismiss it outright.
That alone irritated him.
Reiji exhaled quietly through his nose, cutting the thought off before it could settle further—
Then he stopped.
It wasn't a conscious decision. His body halted first, instincts tightening before his thoughts aligned with the reason.
Someone was ahead.
Leaning against the wall at the edge of the street, positioned just where the lantern light failed to reach. The crowd had thinned without him noticing—fewer voices, fewer footsteps. The space had opened, leaving the street quieter, more exposed.
Too controlled.
Reiji's eyes narrowed slightly as he advanced a few more steps, closing the distance just enough to resolve details without entering reach.
Male.
Older—not just in years, but in presence.
Black hair, worn simply. A scar marked his chin—clean, deliberate, not the kind earned carelessly. His right eye was covered, wrapped beneath bandages that extended across part of his face. The remaining eye was fixed on him with a steadiness that lacked any pretense of casual interest.
Shinobi.
Not just in attire—but in the way he occupied space. Still. Economical. Nothing wasted.
And watching him.
Not idly.
Not by coincidence.
With intent.
Reiji stopped a few meters away, his weight settling evenly, posture aligning without thought. His breathing remained steady, controlled, his gaze locking onto the man's with equal precision.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice flat, direct, stripped of anything unnecessary.
The man raised an eyebrow.
Then smiled.
Slow. Lazy.
He lifted a hand in a loose wave, almost casual.
"Nothing," he said easily. "Just wanted to meet my disciple's son."
Reiji blinked.
Once.
"…What?"