The heart of a parent is fragile when it comes to their children. The love they hold runs too deep to ever be fully expressed in words.
So great is the love they give. So vast the affection they pour forth.
Hardship and weariness lose their meaning so long as the laughter of their children, like the most beautiful melody, continues to echo through every corner of the home.
Does anything else matter?
Nothing holds greater weight than the children who fill their hearts with joy.
To smile. To laugh. To rejoice.
Three simple things, yet enough to wash away the exhaustion of those who raise the children they cherish.
"A sincere love, blessed by the world, may fall upon barren and desolate soil. Yet a love inspired by the divine shall guide children forward, ever chasing their dreams. A dream that begins from the sight of their parents' gentle smiles."
Such words were once spoken by a temple priest to a pair who had only just begun their life together.
It may not be as grand as the heroic tales sung in epics and legends.
Yet a simple phrase such as, rise, my child, can become strength for many.
Few understand the heart of a parent before they stand in that place themselves. The bond between parent and child is not always easily grasped.
Yet love and affection ease the burdens that lie between them.
The story of James and Irene did not begin with anything remarkable. Their meeting was simple, not the sort to be woven into the romantic tales so often told.
Yet their journey did not falter.
Their steps continued, day after day, within the village and the home they built.
James and Irene had walked a longer road than their children. They had known both joy and hardship, bearing witness to the path that led to the birth of their children.
What once felt like a shallow stream at the edge of a river, easily stirred and uncertain, had changed.
Fate seemed to have taken hold of them, binding them together until they arrived at this very moment.
Charlotte. Ian. Ryan.
Their love now flowed like a swelling river, branching outward, widening, forming new currents that became a part of themselves.
Their children were the proof of that depth.
----
Charlotte's chamber was adorned in shades of blue and grey. She did not favor colors that were too bright or striking.
She claimed such hues did not suit her dreams.
She was an unusual child for one so young. A little girl with a vast imagination, one that often left her parents concerned.
Yet she remained a young maiden still.
The wooden shelves and cabinets within her chamber were filled with various trinkets. Gifts from her parents, from her aunt, and tokens from her birthdays that had continued to gather over time.
Beside her bed, a large brown bear doll rested against the frame, as though keeping watch.
Meanwhile, upon the bed, Charlotte still lay unconscious.
James and Irene had carefully cleaned her wounds with warm water and tended to them with care.
***
James looked toward Irene.
He knew that his wife loved their daughter deeply. Yet what he saw now felt far greater than he had ever understood.
That realization stirred something within him.
He had never truly known the depth of another's feelings until witnessing it for himself.
All this time, he had believed that his own love for their children surpassed all others.
He had been mistaken.
From the moment they arrived, Irene's gaze had never truly left Charlotte. She continued to watch, to wait, as though afraid to miss even the smallest change.
Stories of a mother capable of anything for her child had once been nothing more than tales to him.
In his previous life, he had grown without knowing his parents. He had been raised within an orphanage, bearing only the family name of the one who had cared for him.
There had been no warmth such as that often described in tender words of love and sacrifice.
And yet now, he saw it with his own eyes.
His wife looked upon their daughter more often than she looked upon him.
Even so, from time to time, those green eyes would shift, resting upon their two sons with quiet care.
***
James held Ian in his arms. The boy's small body leaned against him, as though seeking comfort after the exhaustion that had built up within him. It did not take long before the child fell asleep.
Fatigue and the remnants of tension slowly wore him down. James allowed him to rest, waiting until he awoke to tell everything.
He did not yet know what had truly happened.
Yet he could already guess.
His daughter was injured and unconscious. That was no result of ordinary training. It was the aftermath of a fight.
A wild beast, or a human.
One of the two.
A slow breath left him.
He had not expected a day that seemed so ordinary to turn into this.
The memory of himself walking calmly toward the village, shopping without a care, now tasted bitter. Had he remained at home just a little longer, perhaps none of this would have come to pass.
----
A trench and several shallow craters marked the ground before James.
The remnants of ninjutsu.
A display Charlotte had shown to Ian.
James stood still, recalling each word Ian had spoken after waking from his brief rest.
"Sharingan..."
He murmured softly.
"To awaken it so soon… it reminds me of that shinobi."
"Itachi."
His thoughts moved swiftly, linking one conclusion to another.
Then he recalled Ian's account once more, and everything began to fall into place.
"Father… Sister saved me from that wicked woman. And then… after she struck her until she could no longer move, her eyes turned red…"
"And after that, she lost consciousness at once."
Irene looked startled upon hearing the explanation.
"Red?"
Fortunately, Ryan remained asleep in her arms. The child had been restless all this while.
She continued, her voice still filled with concern.
"You mean Charlotte's eyes turned red? Is that something dangerous?"
Such a reaction was only natural.
A change like that was rarely seen as a good sign. In many tales, such things were often tied to the unnatural.
Irene's gaze returned to her daughter, filled with worry.
James gently patted her shoulder.
"There is no need to fear. It is a part of me… and now, it has become a part of them."
He looked at his wife with calm certainty.
"I shall explain everything when she awakens. You shall hear it as well. I will keep nothing more from you."
"Keep your word."
"Of course."
Irene's gaze remained full of trust, though her curiosity continued to grow. She held herself back, understanding that this was not the moment to press further.
James wished to say that his daughter had collapsed from the strain of awakening her power, yet speaking so now would only invite his wife's displeasure, as though he were diminishing the severity of her condition.
He formed his conclusion from his son's account.
A final strike. A powerful one.
He began to assemble a brief simulation within his mind, yet his son's voice drew him back.
Ian, still resting in his father's arms, muttered softly. His voice was clear enough to be heard.
"Will my eyes become like that as well? Turn… red? It sounds remarkable."
James looked at his son.
"Time shall answer that. I do not know when it will come, but one day, you shall experience it."
"Truly, Father?"
Ian lifted his head, seeking certainty in the words he had heard.
"Yes."
"Are you certain it is not dangerous, James? I am worried… that it may bring harm to the children." Irene cut into their exchange, her voice laced with unease.
Both turned toward her.
"Be at ease. All shall be well. I will see to it that this change does not harm them in the slightest. They will learn to control themselves and to protect their own lives."
"I trust you. Do not hide anything from me. Tell me everything later."
"I shall."
***
"The woman has fled..."
James looked at the fallen log before him. Rough cracks and scattered splinters bore witness to a powerful impact that had only just occurred.
With the aid of the Sharingan, he analyzed the traces left behind.
Amidst the many marks of impact and the trails carved into the earth, one point stood out most clearly.
The final blow.
His daughter's finishing strike.
The force released there far exceeded the earlier attacks. Its effect was deeper, more destructive.
Signs of ruin spread across the area. Scratched tree trunks, split earth, and the shattered brush at the edge of the training grounds.
"She has only just departed..."
His voice was low.
"I can still sense her presence. Not far from here."
His gaze fixed upon a single direction.
"There."
He pointed toward the forest that stretched toward the mountains.
Without wasting another moment, chakra began to flow through his body, gathering within his legs.
A single step.
His form vanished from where he stood, leaving behind a trace so faint it was nearly imperceptible.
Through the forest thick with branches and towering trees, James surged forward at great speed. His movements were far too swift for ordinary eyes to follow, leaving only a faint rush of wind whispering through the leaves.
***
A woman with reddish-brown hair, her appearance disheveled and filthy, staggered across ground covered in dry leaves and broken twigs. At times, sharp stones struck her feet, until at last she could no longer restrain the curses slipping from her lips.
"That wretched little girl..."
"Such a foul mouth. Just wait, I will tear it apart and make sure she can never utter such insults again."
Her hand pressed against her abdomen. Her stomach, kidneys, even her intestines felt as though they were being stabbed without end. Every step brought a jolt that worsened the pain.
She came to a halt, both hands gripping the trunk of a tree to steady her unsteady body.
The damage within her abdomen was far worse than she had expected. This human body should have already perished. Even if the original soul could be restored through something like purification by a temple priest, wounds of this magnitude would never save the vessel.
But she was different.
She was not an ordinary human. She was an entity bound to this body. So long as the head remained intact, she would not truly die. Her life was tied to this vessel, wholly dependent upon the body she now occupied.
Even so, the kind of destruction required to end her would have to be far more brutal. Wounds to the chest or abdomen alone were not enough, though they still brought immense suffering.
Injuries of this severity slowed her movements. Even walking had become torment. To recover, she required a vast amount of life energy.
And that was a heavy loss.
She was now far enough from the village. Since rumors of her presence had begun to spread among the villagers, she had chosen to withdraw for a time. To wait until things calmed, until her name faded from memory, before drawing close once more.
Her throat itched. She coughed, then spat out a clump of dark red blood.
How many times had she coughed up blood like this? All because of that disgusting child.
"Damn... that foul-mouthed girl..."
"My chance to grow stronger lies with those two children. I need only wait for the right moment."
Her gaze drifted into the distance, as though piercing through the dense tangle of trees and crossing branches. That direction marked the safest path toward the village, one seldom traveled by its people.
"I must find another target before dealing with them again..."
Standing beneath the shelter of the trees, a false sense of calm settled around her. The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the creaking of branches stirred by the wind formed a quiet rhythm.
Yet the insult from that little girl could not be forgotten.
"One day, not only that girl... I will devour her father before her very eyes before tearing apart that filthy mouth of hers."
"And her brother as well. That small boy. I will torment him before ending him before her eyes."
A burst of laughter escaped her lips, an attempt to bury the humiliation and pain inflicted by a mere child of five years.
"A truly wretched ambition. As her father, I shall take my daughter's place in ending this evil."
The voice came from behind her.
The woman turned swiftly, forcing her legs to move despite the sharp pain that surged through her abdomen from the sudden motion.
"Who are you."
Before her stood a man with short black hair, his dark garments matching its color.
His gaze was sharp, as though it could pierce into the deepest parts of her being.
The brief flicker of surprise vanished, replaced by anger as she heard the next words. The tone felt all too familiar.
"How unfortunate that my daughter had to lay her hands upon something like you. Truly ill-fated. And you... reek of filth."
"Bastard... you are the father of that foul-mouthed girl."
The man shook his head lightly. Not in denial, but because he had no interest in prolonging the exchange.
He saw everything clearly. His crimson eyes captured the dark energy clinging to the woman. Her beggar-like appearance, her face twisted with anger, and those reddened, bulging eyes reminded him of something from the past.
An old memory that had never truly faded.
Nine years ago, he had stood in a similar situation.
Back then, his throat had been seized by a servant woman possessed by an entity like this.
A Ghost.
Similar.
Yet it was no longer mere resemblance. The woman before him had truly been possessed by a Ghost.
Her injuries were severe. The strike his daughter had delivered was far from ordinary.
Those blood-red eyes observed for a brief moment. The Sharingan captured the chaotic flow of dark energy, all of it converging within the woman's abdomen.
"Your ambition reaches too far. Let it end here."
"You... bastard!"
The woman cast aside her pain. Her body forced itself to move, preparing to lunge.
Yet before that step could be taken—
Piercing.
A wooden projectile shot through her abdomen at a speed she could not evade.
The sensation was all too familiar. An attack that came without warning, without a single opening to react. Just like the blow from that little girl that had struck her moments before.
Father and daughter... no different at all.
She had underestimated it. A mere branch like that could not possibly kill her. At most, it would deepen her wounds and worsen the pain already tearing through her body.
That belief lasted only an instant.
The man raised his hand. His fingers formed a seal, his index and middle fingers held straight before him.
Impaling stakes.
The wooden projectile, which had seemed harmless, suddenly changed. It grew wildly, splitting from within, forming sharp branches that spread in every direction inside her body.
"Argh...!"
The pain surpassed all limits.
Her body trembled violently.
It is over.
I am truly finished.
For the first time, she felt that her existence held no meaning before this man. That simple attack had brought forth the most terrifying destruction she had ever known.
Branches burst outward from her body, tearing through flesh, cracking bone from within.
A single strike... yet carrying such terror.
"Your vitality is most impressive. As a Ghost, your resolve is worthy of acknowledgment."
The man's gaze deepened, his crimson eyes seeming to swallow everything.
"Yet you laid hands upon my children... and even intended to kill them."
The woman could not respond. The pain had shattered her ability to move or even breathe properly. The wooden branches growing within her body left her nearly immobile.
"I had considered burying you alive."
His tone remained calm, yet each word carried weight.
"But then I recalled how my daughter and my son were made to suffer because of your filthy presence. Their skin was tainted by the filth you carry. That alone is enough to leave a mark upon them. Especially my daughter, who had to endure that foul stench of yours."
This man...
He is no better than that girl.
Father and daughter alike, both with foul tongues.
"Y-you..."
She could barely form words. Her jaw tightened, holding back the anger she could no longer release.
Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Pain and hatred mingled, eroding what little control she had left.
She no longer restrained the negative energy that gnawed at her mind.
The woman crawled forward. Her movements were erratic, like a wounded beast. The wooden branches jutting from her body dragged against the ground, carving long marks in the earth behind her.
"Disgusting creature... a curse upon mankind..."
"You should have remained where you belong. A Ghost that haunts, not one that seeks to inhabit the living."
The man's arm moved.
Piercing.
Another wooden projectile shot forward, driving through the woman's mouth and out the back of her head.
"Your end was decided the moment you bound yourself to that vessel. I merely hastened it."
His gaze remained sharp, without the slightest trace of hesitation.
"I am no different from my daughter. We despise creatures such as you. Your foul stench alone is beyond tolerance."
His hand formed another seal.
Impaling stakes.
From within her mouth, sharp branches erupted wildly, spreading in all directions without restraint. In an instant, her head was destroyed, leaving nothing intact.
Her body collapsed, the last of her strength gone. This time, death came without any chance of return.
James watched for a moment, ensuring it was truly over.
Flames soon consumed the body, leaving nothing behind.
Without waiting any longer, he activated his spatial technique.
Kamui.