Reiji watched the man eat.
Not casually. Not the way someone watched a guest at their table. His attention lingered on the small details—the steady rhythm of chopsticks, the way the bowl tilted slightly with each motion, the complete lack of hesitation in someone who clearly didn't feel out of place.
The Hokage sat across from them.
At their table.
Eating the meal Reiji had prepared.
The realization sat awkwardly in his mind, refusing to settle into anything normal. His father, on the other hand, showed no such difficulty. Soichiro ate as he always did and seemed unbothered. If anything, the presence of the most powerful man in the village had changed nothing about his posture or pace.
Reiji, meanwhile, had barely touched his food.
His fingers rested lightly against the edge of his bowl, unmoving, his gaze flicking once more toward Hiruzen. The man seemed entirely at ease, chewing without restraint, the faint clink of ceramic and wood the only sound breaking the quiet tension that had settled over the table.
Then—
A long exhale.
Hiruzen leaned back slightly, one hand rubbing over his stomach as a satisfied sigh escaped him.
"Aaah… much better."
His eyes shifted toward Reiji, warm, almost amused.
"That was excellent. You made it, didn't you, Reiji-kun?" he asked, gesturing lightly toward the dishes. "I'm jealous, Soichiro. Your son cooks better than my wife." A faint chuckle followed. "Don't misunderstand—I love her. But cooking was never her passion. She's married to her work… much like I am."
He shook his head lightly, the amusement lingering.
"My poor son has never even set foot in a kitchen. These days, I'm lucky if I'm not chased out of the house in the morning."
Reiji blinked once.
What…?
Reiji said nothing.
For once, he chose restraint.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Hokage-sama," Soichiro replied simply, his tone even.
"You should be," Hiruzen said without missing a beat, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Because of the two of you, I'm effectively exiled from my own home for the time being."
That—
Reiji frowned slightly.
He couldn't stop himself.
"You're the Hokage," he said, the words slipping out before he reconsidered them. "And you bow to a woman?"
A sharp silence followed.
Reiji saw it immediately—his father's hand rising to his face, fingers pressing against his brow.
Of course.
Hiruzen, however—
Laughed.
Openly.
The sound filled the room, deep and genuine, cutting cleanly through the tension before it could fully settle.
When it faded, he reached calmly for his pipe, lighting it with practiced ease before drawing in a slow breath.
"That," he said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke, "is the risk of being a remarkable man." His eyes glinted faintly. "You attract a remarkable woman… and occasionally find yourself at her mercy."
He tilted his head slightly, the amusement returning.
"There is always someone more terrifying than you. In my case—my wife."
Reiji stared at him for a moment.
"…That sounds horrible."
Hiruzen chuckled again, softer this time.
"You wouldn't understand yet."
"I don't think I ever will."
"Oh, you will," Hiruzen replied lightly, waving the thought aside. "Your father was quite the scoundrel in his youth. Not as handsome as I was, of course, but he managed well enough. He had no shortage of admirers."
Reiji glanced at his father.
Soichiro didn't look up.
Then Reiji looked back at Hiruzen.
"I don't think that's something I'll have to worry about," he said flatly.
Hiruzen's smile lingered, faintly amused.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Reiji shrugged.
"Doesn't sound worth the trouble."
A soft chuckle escaped Hiruzen.
"We'll see. The future has a way of changing people."
"So," Hiruzen continued, his tone settling into something calmer, more deliberate, "how are you feeling, Reiji-kun? Your injuries?"
Reiji straightened slightly.
"I've mostly recovered."
"Good." Hiruzen nodded. "I'm glad there were no lasting effects."
A brief pause.
Reiji hesitated.
Then—
"…What happens now?"
Hiruzen's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Mmm?"
"Kumo tried to kidnap Kushina and me," Reiji said, his voice steady despite the tension building under it. "So what does Konoha do about it?"
"Reiji," Soichiro warned quietly.
Too late.
Hiruzen studied him for a few seconds, silent, the faint curl of smoke drifting between them.
Then he exhaled.
"That," he said calmly, "is not something you need to concern yourself with."
Another pause.
"However… since we are on the subject, I do have a request."
Soichiro spoke first.
"You want us to keep what happened a secret."
Reiji's head turned sharply.
Hiruzen nodded.
"Yes."
There was no hesitation.
"What happened to you was… unacceptable," he continued, his voice measured now. "But if word spreads that a veteran shinobi betrayed the village, impersonated an instructor, and kidnapped children—" he paused slightly, "—it will create panic. Worse, it will erode trust."
His gaze drifted briefly, distant.
"In the village. In the clans. In our strength. We cannot afford to appear divided in front of our ennemies. Not now."
"…For whom?" Reiji asked.
A beat.
"Who exactly are we supposed to look strong for?"
The question landed cleanly.
Hiruzen watched him, something faintly amused flickering in his eyes.
"The better question," he said calmly, "is who we can afford to look weak in front of."
Reiji didn't move.
Hiruzen leaned back slightly, his tone quieter now.
"And the answer to that…" A thin stream of smoke escaped his lips. "…is no one."
A brief silence followed.
Reiji's expression didn't change, but something settled behind his eyes.
"…So we don't really have allies," he said.
Hiruzen's gaze lingered on him for a moment.
"Not in the way you're thinking," he replied.
Reiji nodded once.
"…I see."
"So," Hiruzen continued, the weight easing slightly from his tone, "will you honor my request, Reiji-kun? And keep what happened a secret?"
Reiji glanced at his father.
Soichiro gave a small nod.
Reiji nodded as well.
"…Fine."
"Good."
Hiruzen smiled again, warmth returning as if the previous conversation had never happened. He clapped his hands together lightly, the sound breaking the tension.
"Well! Enough of that," he said. "No need to burden children with such matters."
He stood slowly, adjusting his robe.
"You prefer something more interesting, don't you?"
Reiji didn't answer—but he didn't deny it either.
Hiruzen's smile sharpened slightly.
"Come," he said, gesturing outside. "Let's step out for a bit."
A brief pause.
"Show me what you can do."
***
The surfaceof the pond had frozen unevenly, a thin layer of ice spreading outward from where Reiji had stood moments earlier. It wasn't perfectly smooth—some sections were thicker than others, faint cracks running beneath the surface where the cold had spread too quickly without control. A light mist still clung to the air above it, slowly dissipating in the breeze.
Reiji stepped back to stand beside him, his breath still coming out in faint white plumes, the cold lingering in his lungs and throat.
Hiruzen hummed softly as he looked over the pond, he bent down and touched the ice with two fingers.
"Being told about it and seeing it in person are two very different things," he said quietly.
Reiji glanced at him.
"I was told you could use your gift without hand signs," Hiruzen continued, turning toward him with an impressed smile. "But to see it confirmed like this…"
Reiji scratched lightly at the back of his head, suddenly uncomfortable beneath the Hokage's attention. "Is that really impressive?"
"For an ordinary shinobi? Yes," Hiruzen said. "Very much so. Even I would not be confident using most techniques without hand signs, apart from a few I have favored for decades." His eyes returned to the frozen pond. "But kekkei genkai are always mysterious. A bloodline technique functioning without signs is rare, but not unheard of."
Reiji lifted his head. "Really?"
Hiruzen nodded. "There is a clan originally from Kiri. The Kaguya clan. Among their members, a rare few awaken a kekkei genkai called Shikotsumyaku. It allows them to manipulate their bones without hand signs."
Reiji frowned.
"That's creepy."
Hiruzen chuckled. "And very deadly, I assure you."
Reiji looked at him with more interest. "You fought them?"
"I had a few encounters with them in my youth," Hiruzen admitted.
Reiji hesitated.
The next question came before he could fully stop it.
"Then… did you ever fight members of the Yuki clan?"
Hiruzen looked at him for a moment.
Then his expression softened into something almost regretful.
"Unfortunately, no."
"Oh."
Reiji could not quite keep the disappointment from his voice.
"I understand," Hiruzen said gently. "The Yuki clan is elusive. They rarely step outside their borders, and if our information is correct, their numbers are not large. Your grandfather himself does not seem to enjoy the spotlight. If not for the death of the Second Mizukage, he would likely have remained content in the background."
Reiji looked back toward the pond, watching the mist drift slowly over the uneven ice.
Then another question pressed forward.
"What kind of person is the Mizukage?"
Hiruzen hummed thoughtfully. He did not answer at once. Instead, he studied Reiji for a moment, as if weighing how much to say.
"You really want to know?"
Reiji nodded.
Hiruzen fell silent again, his gaze moving back toward the frozen water. "I do not know as much as you might hope. He has lived a long time. He comes from the Warring States era, and I have only seen him personally once." His voice turned more measured. "He seemed serious. Reserved, perhaps. Not a man who wasted words."
Reiji listened carefully.
"All I can tell you for certain," Hiruzen continued, "is that the people who fought him rarely survived to speak of his jutsu. He guards the secrets of his clan closely, and from what little I have seen, he is a proud man." A faint smile touched his face. "Though, to be fair, most people who reach his level carry some pride with them."
Then he looked at Reiji again, this time with a teasing glint.
"To be honest, you remind me of him a little. Not only in appearance. You both seem to carry a great deal of pride."
Reiji blinked.
Part of him was still processing the information about the Mizukage. The other part was more surprised by how freely the Hokage had answered him at all.
Is the Hokage a nosy person?
He glanced up at Hiruzen's calm smile, then back toward the frozen pond.
It seemed he was going to learn many things about the Hokage today.
Hiruzen suddenly clapped his hands together.
"Enough about that. While being able to use your gift without hand signs is certainly useful, it is not without drawbacks."
Reiji looked up and listened.
"First, the obvious one," Hiruzen continued. "It can surprise opponents, and in battle that is valuable. But without hand signs, shaping chakra can become less precise. It may also waste more chakra than necessary if you rely on instinct alone. That is something you must be careful about."
Reiji tilted his head. "I never had a problem with that."
Hiruzen chuckled softly. "You have large reserves for your age. Very large, even. But trust me, the more powerful your techniques become, the more that cost will matter. Exhaustion kills shinobi just as surely as a blade does."
Reiji did not answer immediately. The warning was calm, almost gentle, but he understood the weight behind it. Chakra was not infinite, even when it felt that way during training. He gave a small nod.
"The other risk," Hiruzen continued, "is experimentation. Creating techniques without guidance can be dangerous. Most shinobi learn jutsu built by those who came before them, shaped through years of trial, failure, sacrifice, and study." His gaze settled on Reiji with quiet seriousness. "You do not have that luxury. Not with your Hyōton. So whenever you experiment, you must remember that you are walking without a path beneath your feet."
Reiji held his gaze for a moment.
"I understand," he said. Then, after a short pause, he added, "But I have a question."
"Go on."
"You said you would help me train my Hyōton." Reiji hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I do not want to sound presumptuous, but you said yourself that you have never seen Hyōton in action before. And since it is a kekkei genkai, you cannot learn it yourself. So how are you going to help me?"
Hiruzen stared at him for a second.
Then he laughed.
It was not offended laughter, at least. That was something. Reiji watched him with mild suspicion as the Hokage shook his head, amusement creasing the corners of his eyes.
"What? You don't think your Hokage can help you progress in ninjutsu?"
Reiji shrugged. "Well, show me then."
Hiruzen sighed dramatically. "Youth these days. Not an ounce of respect."
Reiji said nothing.
After a moment, Hiruzen coughed into his fist and straightened slightly, though the smile remained. "I may be a shinobi first, Reiji-kun, but I am also a scholar at heart. And while I do not wish to boast, there are very few people alive who know as many jutsu as I do." His gaze sharpened faintly. "Or as many ways to combine elements together."
Reiji straightened.
That caught his attention.
Hiruzen noticed, of course. His smile grew a little.
"So, no, I cannot use your Hyōton for you. I cannot feel it the way you feel it, and I cannot tell you exactly how your bloodline should move inside your chakra network." He raised one finger. "But I think i can already guess the principles behind it and nudge you in the right direction."
Hiruzen looked back toward the uneven ice covering the pond.
"Tell me—how do you form it? When you use your Hyōton, what exactly are you doing?"
Reiji scratched lightly at the side of his head, thinking it through as he answered.
"…I merge them," he said after a moment. "Wind and water. I push both out at the same time and force them together. It's not… precise. But it works."
He paused, then added, more honestly:
"I can't release anything else anyway. So I don't really have a choice."
There was a brief silence after that, the wind brushing faintly through the trees, stirring the leaves and carrying the smell of damp earth from the pond.
"…Do you think I really can't use anything else?" he asked, quieter now, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
Hiruzen didn't answer immediately. He watched him instead, exhaling another slow plume of smoke that drifted sideways and thinned into the air.
"Why does that matter to you?" he asked.
Reiji's gaze dropped for a second, settling on the ground where the grass thinned into mud near the water's edge.
"…Because it limits me," he said. "If I only have one thing, then everything I do depends on it. There's no variation. No flexibility."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"It makes me predictable. A one-trick pony."
"That's where you're wrong."
Reiji's head lifted at once, his attention snapping back to Hiruzen. The Hokage had already stepped forward, hands moving into seals as his stance settled.
"Mud release: Mud Tide."
He exhaled.
A thick stream burst from his mouth, dark and heavy from the moment it left him. A dense wave of mud rolled forward, thick and heavy, its surface uneven, dragging itself outward with slow, unstoppable force. It surged across the pond, swallowing the frozen surface in seconds, ice cracking beneath it with muffled fractures before disappearing entirely. The wave didn't splash—it pressed, spreading across the ground like a tide that refused to stop, coating everything it touched in a heavy, clinging mass.
He hadn't even processed the destruction of the pond when Hiruzen was already moving again.
New seals.
Faster this time.
"Mud Release: Mire Wall."
Hiruzen spat a compact mass of mud onto the ground in front of him.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then it expanded.
The mud surged upward, thickening as it rose, layers compressing violently as if the weight of earth itself was forcing it together. The surface hardened as it climbed, the wet sheen dulling into something denser, darker, almost stone-like. In less than a heartbeat, a massive wall stood before them—broad, compact, its surface uneven but solid, small cracks forming as the pressure inside it settled.
Reiji could almost feel the density of it just by looking.
Hiruzen turned slightly, looking at him now.
"The jutsu I just used are Mud Release," he said. "A combination of Earth and Water—no different in principle from what you're doing."
Reiji nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between the two results.
"Do you understand the difference between them?" Hiruzen asked.
Reiji hesitated, then answered:
"The hand seals helped you control them."
Hiruzen gave a small, acknowledging nod.
"They did," he said. "But that's not the answer I'm asking for."
He gestured lightly toward the pond.
"I used the same two natures. The same base."
His gaze sharpened just slightly.
"So why are the results different?"
Reiji went quiet.
His eyes moved again—this time slower, more deliberate, studying the details. The mud covering the pond was still shifting faintly, unstable, its surface sagging and flowing under its own weight. The wall, in contrast, stood rigid, its form holding without movement.
He frowned slightly, thinking.
"…The first one was more fluid," he said, his tone slower now, analytical. "It spread, like water. It didn't hold shape—it just moved."
His eyes shifted to the wall.
"The second one… it's closer to earth. It holds shape, it's more solid than liquid."
He paused.
"…Even if it's still mud."
Hiruzen didn't interrupt.
Reiji's eyes narrowed as the conclusion settled.
"So… you changed the balance," he said more confident now. "More water in the first. More earth in the second."
Hiruzen clapped his hands once.
"Exactly."
A small smile formed beneath the stem of his pipe.
"You may not be able to use anything outside of your Hyōton," he continued, "if what you said is true."
He took another slow breath.
"But that doesn't mean you only have one way to use it."
Reiji stilled slightly.
"…Ratio," he murmured.
Hiruzen's smile deepened just a fraction.
"When you combine two natures," he said, "one shapes the technique. The other gives it substance."
He tapped the stem of his pipe lightly.
"In your case, wind shapes it. Water gives it mass. You're using both—but you're not choosing how."
Reiji nodded slowly, absorbing it.
Then something clicked—and he looked up sharply.
"…How do you know how Hyōton works?"
Hiruzen chuckled, shaking his head.
"I don't."
He tapped the side of his pipe lightly.
"It's theory."
A thin stream of smoke escaped his lips.
"When you've used enough techniques, you start to see patterns. Different elements… same logic.
He looked back at Reiji.
"When you think you've reached a limit," he continued, "that's usually when you're just looking at the problem the wrong way. Change one variable, and the result changes with it."
Reiji stared at his hands.
Wind shapes.
Water gives mass.
So what happens if—
"…What if I use more water than wind?" he asked.
Hiruzen's eyes flickered with interest.
"…I'm curious too," he said.
"Show me."
Reiji brought his hands together slowly.
The motion was familiar now—chakra gathering, separating, then moving along each arm. But this time, he adjusted it deliberately. Instead of merging both natures evenly, he held back the wind, letting only a thin thread of it mix into the water.
The balance felt wrong.
He could feel it immediately—heavier, slower, harder to control.
Still—
He pushed it forward.
Cold spread across his palms.
But instead of forming solid ice—
It drifted.
Fine particles separated from his hands, carried outward by the faint wind. Light. Unstable.
Snow.
It fell in soft, uneven flakes, settling across his fingers, the ground, the remnants of the mud below.
Reiji stared at it.
"…Huh."
Hiruzen's voice came from beside him.
"This is the interesting part."
Reiji looked up.
The Hokage was smiling—not the calm, measured expression he had worn before, but something lighter, almost childlike.
"Testing," he said. "Trying something new when you think you've reached a dead end… and then seeing something unexpected come out of it."
He exhaled slowly, watching the snow fall.
"Rediscovering the joy of learning a new jutsu… that never gets old."
Reiji looked at him for a moment.
Then back at his hands, where the last flakes melted against his skin.
A small smile formed without him noticing.
"…Yeah."
He nodded once.
"You're right."
***
Not long after seeing that he was done Hiruzen stopped the lesson and announced he was leaving. Reiji walked Hiruzen to the door, stopping just short of the threshold while the older man adjusted his robe with an easy, practiced motion.
"Well," Hiruzen said at last, glancing back at him with a small, amused smile, "it's always enjoyable to teach a bright kid like you, Reiji. I expect that the next time I see you, you'll be an excellent genin."
Reiji folded his arms across his chest, leaning his weight slightly to one side.
"You could just make me a genin now if you really wanted," he said, tone flat. "Instead of having me go through a stupid punishment."
Hiruzen blinked once.
Then he laughed—openly, without restraint.
"You're a bold one, aren't you?" he said, shaking his head lightly. "You do realize you broke my son's arms."
Reiji didn't shift.
"You don't really look like you care that much," he replied.
Hiruzen's laughter faded, though the amusement didn't entirely leave his expression. He studied him for a second, then exhaled softly through his nose.
"…You really have no shame," he said. "And yes, I care. I'm his father."
A small pause followed, his gaze drifting briefly before returning to Reiji.
"But a few broken bones aren't the end of the world. It'll toughen him up."
Reiji's arms remained crossed, his posture unchanged.
"Then why am I still being punished?"
Hiruzen's expression didn't shift.
Before Reiji could react, Hiruzen flicked his forehead.
Reiji's head snapped back a fraction, more from surprise than forc. His hand came up immediately, fingers pressing against the spot with a faint scowl.
"Because I'm afraid of my wife." He laughing seeing Reiji expression.
"Admit it," Reiji muttered, lowering his hand, "you just don't have a real reason."
Hiruzen's smile returned, thinner this time.
"If you want the real answer," he said calmly, "it's because you're a rebellious little shit."
Reiji's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Having people who don't respect their superiors isn't a good look," Hiruzen continued, tone still light, though the words carried a quiet weight beneath them.
Reiji rolled his eyes, shifting his stance again.
"My performance speaks for itself."
Hiruzen didn't argue.
He simply watched him for a second, the silence stretching just long enough to register before he gave a small nod.
"Enjoy being a child while you can, Reiji-kun," he said. "There may come a time when you regret wanting to grow up too quickly."
He reached for the door, sliding it open with a smooth motion. Light from outside spilled into the room, brighter than before, outlining his figure as he stepped through.
Then, with a faintly mischievous glint in his eyes, he added over his shoulder:
"I hope you enjoy your new routine for the next six months."
And just like that, he was gone.
The door slid shut with a soft sound.
Reiji stood there for a moment, staring at it, his fingers still resting lightly against his forehead where the flick had landed. The sensation had already faded, but the irritation lingered—not sharp, not overwhelming, just present.
He exhaled quietly.
"…It can't be that bad," he muttered to himself.
Though, somewhere in the back of his mind, something told him it probably would be.