But he couldn't. He was just a six-year-old boy in their eyes. They would think he had a fever or had read too many adventure stories.
"I'm going for a walk," Yuji said suddenly, needing to escape his father's suffocating kindness.
"Sure, but don't go too far, okay," said Kaori, who had appeared in the doorway. "And wear your sandals!"
Yuji nodded, put on his sandals, and stepped out onto the streets of Konoha.
The world outside felt more real and more threatening. The air was filled with the hustle and bustle of village life. Merchants shouted their wares, housewives gossiped on street corners, and children ran around laughing. On the rooftops, shadows flitted by at unnatural speeds. Chunin and Jonin on their way to missions or reports.
To the villagers, it was a normal, reassuring sight. A sign that their protectors were always vigilant. To Yuji, every one of those leaps was a reminder of the immense power gap between himself and almost everyone around him. Those people could kill him with a flick of a finger before he even had a chance to blink.
He walked past a small training ground. There, a group of kids who were maybe only a year or two older than him were practicing under the supervision of an instructor. They threw kunai at wooden targets, some hitting the mark, others missing by a wide margin.
A boy with spiky hair managed to stick three kunai in the center of the target. He cheered, and his friends patted him on the back. The instructor nodded in satisfaction.
Yuji stopped and watched from a distance, hiding behind a post. His stomach churned. They were just kids. They should be playing tag or climbing trees, not learning how to stab people with knives. They were being trained to be weapons, to be pawns in the Kages' game. And they were doing it with smiles on their faces, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He remembered himself at twenty-three. He couldn't even assemble a bookshelf from IKEA without very detailed instructions and several curse words. These people, at twelve, were expected to risk their lives on C-rank missions.
This was insane. This whole world was insane.
He continued his walk, buying a stick of dango from a small stall just to do something normal. The sweet, chewy taste of the rice cake calmed him slightly, a remnant of simple pleasure in a sea of anxiety.
He sat on a bench near the river, watching the water flow. He tried not to think. He tried to just be a six-year-old enjoying his snack. But his mind wouldn't stay quiet.
What's the plan? he thought, David's cynical voice echoing in his head. You can't be a mask maker's son forever. When Pain's invasion happens, being 'the mask maker's son' isn't going to stop Shinra Tensei from flattening you and your entire block. You need a plan.
A plan. David Gerald was never good at making plans. His plans usually involved procrastinating until the last-minute panic set in. But here, the last minute meant death.
He could try to run away from Konoha. Go somewhere far and remote, where the ninja would never find him. But how? He was a six-year-old with no money and no survival skills. He'd probably be eaten by a wild bear before he even made it out of the Land of Fire.
He could try to remain a civilian. Keep his head down, not draw attention, and pray to whatever gods were listening that he'd survive every coming disaster. It was a gamble. A very big gamble. It was like living in a building you knew was going to collapse and hoping the pillar above your head would hold.
Then, there was the third option. The option that made him want to throw up.
He looked at his small, useless fists. Hands made for holding a paintbrush, not a kunai. Hands more familiar with a laptop keyboard than hand seals.
The fear was like cold water creeping up his spine. The fear of helplessness. The fear of seeing his kind parents get hurt because he couldn't do anything. The fear of being a nameless casualty in someone else's flashback.
And in the midst of that fear, a terrible, unavoidable realization began to form. A realization he had tried to suppress for six years.
If you can't beat them, join them.
If you live in a world full of monsters, you have to become a bigger monster, or at least be competent enough to run away from them.
The only way to have any small measure of control over his own fate in this cursed world, the only way to possibly protect his naive and precious new family, was to do the very thing he hated and feared the most.
He had to become one of them.
He had to enter the Academy. He had to learn to throw kunai and shuriken. He had to learn about chakra, about ninjutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu. He had to learn how to kill.
He had to become a ninja.
A goddamn ninja.
Yuji finished his dango in one last bite, the sweetness now tasting like ash in his mouth. He stood up, dust clinging to his shorts. His gaze returned to the Hokage Monument in the distance. The stone faces no longer looked majestic or ridiculous.
They looked like a challenge. A destiny he couldn't avoid.
He walked home, each step feeling heavier than the last. He no longer felt like the trapped David Gerald. He no longer felt like the confused Yamashita Yuji. He felt like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
When he arrived home, his father was still in the shop, carving a new mask with intense concentration. His mother was watering the flowers in the pots out front. Their peaceful, oblivious life felt so fragile.
Yuji walked past them, went into his room, and closed the door. He returned to the window, staring at those Hokage faces one more time.
"Damn it all," he whispered to the cold windowpane. "Fine. Whatever."
It wasn't a heroic declaration. Not a fiery promise. It was a sigh of defeat. It was the grumble of a man forced to do a job he didn't want because the alternative was so much worse. It was the most reluctant and pathetic agreement in the history of his two lives.
He was going to be a ninja. And he was going to hate every second of it.Last edited: Aug 8, 2025336DaarioAug 3, 2025Reader modeThreadmarks Threadmarks Chapter 02: Empty And Noisy Threadmarks DaarioAug 3, 2025#2Several weeks had passed since Yuji had reluctantly accepted his annoying destiny. Several weeks had turned into almost a month. And during that time, what had he done to prepare himself for a future filled with violence and life-or-death battles?
Absolutely nothing.
A big fat zero. Empty. Zilch.
Every morning he would wake up with the vague intention of doing something productive. Maybe a few push-ups. Maybe try to feel the 'chakra' that was supposedly flowing within him, as he remembered from the anime. Maybe just run around the block to build stamina. These were plans that sounded reasonable in the mind of a man who knew he had to get ready.
However, that intention would quickly evaporate as soon as he saw the comfort of his bed, or smelled the aroma of the breakfast his mother was making, or simply found a very comfortable position while lying on his room's floor.
Right now, he was doing the latter. Lying on his back on the cool tatami mat, his short brown hair splayed out, black eyes staring at the faded white ceiling of his room. There was a small crack near the corner, shaped like a map of a country he didn't recognize. He had spent the last twenty minutes trying to decide which country it was. Maybe Madagascar if you tilted your head and squinted.
"Training can wait until the academy starts," he reasoned with himself for the umpteenth time. "No point in getting too worked up now. It'll just burn me out. Yes. Energy management. That's the key."
It was a beautiful lie, a very convincing lie he had perfected over two lifetimes. David Gerald was a master of procrastination, and that skill seemed to have transferred perfectly into the body of Yamashita Yuji. This bad habit, somehow, was the only thing that made him feel grounded. In the midst of a crazy world with fire-breathing ninjas and giant monsters, his familiar laziness was his anchor. It was a reminder that deep down, he was still the guy who would rather marathon a TV series than face his responsibilities.
But even an anchor can feel like a weight pulling you down.
That feeling had been gnawing at him for days. A throbbing anxiety beneath the surface of his forced composure. His decision to become a ninja hadn't eliminated his fear; it had just given it a label and a start date. Every day he spent doing nothing was another day he got closer to a destiny he didn't want, completely unprepared.
The white ceiling began to feel like the walls of a coffin slowly closing in. The crack no longer looked like Madagascar; it looked like a mocking grin. The air in the room felt stuffy, laden with his yet-to-happen failures.
The pressure kept building. The weight of two lives, the anxiety of a brutal future, and the guilt of being a lazy son to such kind parents. It all swirled inside his small chest, looking for a way out.
And then, the cork popped.
"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!"
It wasn't a scream of fear. It wasn't a cry of anger. It was a pure, unfiltered roar of existential frustration, erupting from the lungs of a six-year-old with surprising force. The sound bounced off the walls of his small room, filled with the despair of a man who realized he might never be able to properly assemble furniture from IKEA, combined with the terror of a child who knew monsters were real.
The sudden silence that followed was even more deafening.
From downstairs, his mother's panicked voice called out. "Yuji?! Honey, are you okay?! What happened?!"
Yuji sat bolt upright, his heart pounding. His face flushed with embarrassment. Crap. He didn't mean for it to be that loud.
"I'm fine, Mom!" he yelled back, his voice a little hoarse.
"What was that? Did you fall?"
He needed an excuse. A quick one. Something weird, specific, and confusing enough that there would be no further questions.
"I just... I thought I saw a spider!" he improvised, "And he had eight legs, and I only have two! It felt mathematically unfair! I needed a moment to process the inequality!"
A moment of silence from downstairs. Yuji could just imagine his mother standing at the foot of the stairs, blinking in confusion.
"...Alright, sweetie," Kaori finally replied, her voice laced with uncertainty. "Come down if you need... a hug... or a calculator."
Yuji slumped. Perfect. Now his parents probably thought he was having an arachnid-induced mathematical crisis. He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. He couldn't keep this up. Lying in his room, waiting for his sanity to erode bit by bit.
He had to get out. He needed fresh air. He needed a distraction from his own toxic thoughts.
"I'm going for a walk!" he shouted towards the door before his mother could offer any more mathematical support.
He quickly put on his sandals and rushed out of the house, past the shop where his father was meticulously painting the details on a kitsune mask. Kenji just raised a brief eyebrow at his son's speeding form, too focused on his work to comment.
The afternoon air in Konoha was cool against his skin. Yuji walked aimlessly, letting his feet take him wherever they wanted. He passed through the bustling streets, the aroma from various food stalls—dango, yakiniku, ramen—wafting through the air. He saw other children playing, their laughter ringing out cheerfully. For a moment, he felt normal. Just a boy taking a walk in his village.
But then he would see a Chunin leap from roof to roof, or catch sight of the Uchiha clan symbol on someone's back, and reality would come crashing back down.
After walking for a few minutes, he found himself in a small, rather secluded park. It was quiet; most of the children had probably gone home for dinner. There were a few benches, a slide, and a set of swings.
On one of those swings sat a small figure.
A ball of orange fluff. That was the first description that came to Yuji's mind. The figure wore an oversized orange jacket, and his spiky blond hair looked like a small explosion of sunshine. The figure was swinging slowly, back and forth, head bowed. Even from a distance, the aura of loneliness and sadness was so thick it felt tangible.
Yuji stopped in his tracks, his heart beating a little faster. He didn't need to see the face to know who it was.
Uzumaki Naruto.
His rational mind—the cynical, survivalist voice of David Gerald—immediately screamed in panic inside his head.
'Alright, here we go. A major plot point. Turn around now. Leave. Run if you have to. That kid is a disaster magnet. Befriending him is the equivalent of painting a giant target on your back. You want a quiet life? A life where you don't have to fight immortal snake ninjas or puppets controlled by a red-haired guy? Then stay away from the Nine-Tails Jinchuriki.'
It was very good advice. Logical. Smart. The perfect survival plan.
Yuji was all set to obey it. He started to turn, his feet ready to carry him as far away from that swing set as possible.
But then, Naruto lifted his head slightly, and Yuji caught a glimpse of his face. The whisker-like marks on his cheeks, and his blue eyes—the same blue eyes that should have been full of spirit and mischief—looked dim and wet with unshed tears.
And Yuji's traitorous heart did something he didn't expect. It ached.
'Oh, come on,' another voice in his head groaned, a voice that sounded far less cynical and far more tired. 'He's just a kid. Look at him. He's probably the same age as you. And he's all alone on a swing, looking like someone just told him ramen ceased to exist. You can't just leave him like that. It's... it's not right.'
'Not right?' the cynic retorted. 'What's not right is dying at sixteen because you got dragged into a fight against chakra-eating aliens! Priorities, man! Priorities!'
Yuji stood there, frozen, caught in a civil war inside his own head. Leaving was the smart choice. Approaching him was the... kind choice. Since when was he a 'kind' person? Kindness hadn't helped him pay rent in his previous life.
He looked at Naruto again. The boy was kicking at the dirt with the tip of his sandal, raising a small cloud of dust.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
With the heaviest sigh he had ever heaved, Yuji gave in. His rational brain might be right, but his stupid, traitorous heart was apparently more stubborn.
He walked closer, each step feeling like he was treading through quicksand. What was he even going to say? "Hey, I know you've got a giant fox monster in your belly, but don't worry, you'll be a superhero someday"? No, definitely not.
He stopped a few feet from the swing. Naruto didn't notice him, too lost in his own sadness.
"Uh..." Yuji began, his voice sounding awkward even to his own ears. "Nice... swing."
Naruto flinched in surprise. He looked up at Yuji with wide, wary eyes. This was clearly not the reaction he usually got from strangers. It was usually cold glares or whispers behind his back.
"Who are you?" Naruto asked, his voice small and suspicious.
"I'm Yuji," he replied, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. "I live nearby. At the mask shop."
Naruto just stared at him, saying nothing. An awkward silence enveloped them. Yuji felt the urge to run. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
He reached into his pocket, a nervous gesture he wasn't aware of. His fingers brushed against something hard and paper-wrapped. A lemon candy he had bought earlier and forgotten to eat.
An idea—or perhaps desperation—struck.
Without thinking, he held out his closed fist. "Want one?"
Naruto looked at Yuji's hand, then back at his face, confusion written plainly there. "What is it?"
"A candy," Yuji said. "Lemon flavored. It's a bit sour at first, but then it gets sweet." He opened his fist, revealing the brightly wrapped yellow candy.
Naruto hesitated. He stared at the candy as if it were some kind of trap. No one ever gave him anything for free, except for looks of disgust.
Yuji just kept his hand outstretched, waiting with a patience he didn't know he had. "Take it. I'm not a big fan of lemon anyway." A small lie.
Slowly, very slowly, Naruto reached out and took the candy. Their fingers brushed for a fleeting moment. He looked at the candy in his palm as if it were a treasure.
"For me?" he whispered, as if in disbelief.
"Yeah," Yuji said, feeling a slight sense of relief. "It's... just a candy."
Naruto carefully unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. His eyes widened slightly as the initial sourness hit his tongue, then his expression softened into a small smile as the sweetness came through.
And then, as if the candy had opened a floodgate, it all came pouring out.
"Wow! This is super good, dattebayo! I love sour and sweet stuff! I'm gonna be Hokage someday, you know! I'm gonna be the greatest, better than all the ones on that mountain! And everyone's gonna have to acknowledge me! They'll all know my name! And I'm gonna eat ramen at Ichiraku every single day! Old Man Teuchi makes the best ramen in the whole world! You gotta try it! Do you like ramen? What's your favorite flavor? Mine's miso with extra char siu! And..."
Yuji just stood there, slightly stunned, as the tsunami of words hit him. The boy who had been sullen and sad was now a vibrant ball of energy, talking nonstop about everything and anything, jumping from one topic to another with lightning speed.
He had... just given him a candy.