Scene opens with soft sounds of running water, wind and insects ---- a peaceful riverside.
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The water whispered softly over smooth stones, catching flecks of early sunlight like shards of glass floating downstream. A breeze rolled off hills behind Konoha, gently and cool, nudging the long reeds along the bank into a slow , sleepy away.
Aki dangled his feet just above the river's edge, bare toes flexing occasionally as dragonfly hovered nearby, indecisive about where to land. His fishing rod leaned against his shoulder, held loosely in his small hand like an afterthought. He wasn't really focused on it. Not today.
The rock beneath him was flat and sun-warmed , moss-lined in places with little dips where rainwater had settled during last night's drizzle. His hair - long, soft and wavy - clung damply to back of his neck from the morning fog. He hadn't bothered tying up. The mist always made everything feel heavier, like the world still half-asleep.
Across him father- Hiroshi - crouched silently at the water's edge, a length of fishing line looped around his calloused fingers, a kunai gripped delicately between his teeth while he tied a complicated knot. Aki watched the way his fingers moved - precise, fast, but calm. That calmness Aki couldn't copy , even if he mimicked the motion.
Hiroshi was one of those adults who didn't talk unless meant it. And when he did, his words had this quiet rumble behind them - like distant thunder you didn't realize you'd been hearing until it stopped.
The air smelled like wet earth and wild mint. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a woodpecker tapped rhythmically against a dying tree. Closer frogs croaked from under the thick water reeds, lazy and unbothered.
Aki yawned and rested his cheeks on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, still watching the dragonfly. It buzzed near his face, darted, hovered again. He reached for it slowly - not to catch it, just to see if it would land.
It didn't.
Instead, his fishing line jerked once .
He blinked.
"Oh", he murmured "I thinkI got a fish".
The rod wobbled. The dragonfly vanished.
Tjen nothing.
The line came up clean , the bait gone.
Aki signed.
"I was just being polite, " he muttered, settling the rod back down.
"He didn't have to steal it".
Hiroshi snorted - just once - and went back to tying the knot.
Aki let the fishing rod rest again, watching the way the current slipped around the mossy rock below. A leaf bobbed past, caught for a moment in an eddy before spinning away. He followed it with his eyes until it disappeared under the reeds.
The morning breeze pressed against his cheek, cooler now, carrying the smell of damp bark. Somewhere upstream, a heron gave a low, hoarse call, the kind that seemed too big for such a thin bird.
His gaze drifted back to his father. Hiroshi had set the kunai aside and was working another knot, the line pulled tight between his fingers. In the slant of light, Aki noticed the pale lines along the back of his father's hands, the ones that disappeared under the rolled cuffs of his shirt. Some were thin, barely a whisper in the skin; others looked older, stubborn, like they'd decided to stay no matter how much time passed.
"Dad?" Aki asked, leaning forward slightly.
Hiroshi hummed in response, not looking up.
"Why do you have so many scars?"
The fingers paused mid-twist. For a heartbeat, only the river spoke. Then Hiroshi glanced at him, a corner of his mouth twitching like he'd almost smiled but changed his mind.
"I was a jōnin," he said, matter-of-fact, as if it explained everything. "Before I started my construction business."
The words hung there, steady but heavy, like stones dropped into still water. Aki watched the ripples in his father's expression — there and gone again — and thought about all the things a person might do to earn that many scars.
Aki let the thought roll around in his head. Scars weren't bad, exactly, but on a face they were hard to ignore. He imagined a hundred ways to avoid them — maybe he could wear one of those cloth masks like Kakashi-sensei, the kind that made people guess what you were hiding. Or something heavier, metal, like the ANBU.
Then it struck him — something grand, something impossible to miss.
"Dad," he said suddenly, "I'll wear a metal mask like the ANBU… but with the skull of an oni. Imagine it."
Hiroshi's shoulders lifted once, a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. "It would make you scary," he said, tying the knot with a sharp pull. "Because with your delicate face, I bet even if you had mountains of muscle, you'd still look like a girl."
Aki grinned, unbothered. "Indeed. I am fabulous like that." He flicked his long hair over one shoulder with a practiced flourish — the same little toss his mother used to do without thinking. Hiroshi glanced at him, and for a second, the quiet rumble in his chest sounded suspiciously like amusement.
The river kept whispering between them, as if it too had been listening.