The Morning After
The sun crept through the thin paper windows of the Nara household, casting pale shafts of light across the wooden floor. The smell of rice and miso soup lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy scent of morning dew. At the table, Megumi sat hunched forward, devouring his meal with uncharacteristic eagerness, chopsticks clicking against the bowl in a steady rhythm.
Across from him, Kaede sat rigidly, her fingers loosely gripping her own untouched cup of tea. The dark rings under her eyes betrayed the restless night she had endured. She had returned from the Hokage's office long after midnight, but not even exhaustion could dull the gnawing questions that haunted her.
Her son was growing—too fast, too strong, too strange.
"Megumi," she said suddenly, her voice so calm it felt unnatural. "Tell me about your summons. How many do you have?"
The words struck like shuriken. Megumi almost choked on his food, coughing before reaching for water. Kaede, ever the mother despite her unease, quickly poured tea into his mug and pushed it toward him.
"Why are you asking me this while I'm eating?" Megumi protested between gulps. "Let's at least have some table manners, okay?"
Kaede's lips twitched—not quite a smile, not quite anger. "Answer my question… or I'll make you."
The shift in her tone silenced him. Megumi set his chopsticks down, feeling the weight of her gaze press against him. He knew that look. There was no hiding now.
"My summons come from the Ten Shadows Technique," he admitted. "Right now, I can only call three of them. Maybe when I'm older, I'll be able to unlock the rest."
Kaede's brows drew together. "Only three? And you expect me to believe that's all?"
Megumi hesitated. He could have left it there, but something in her stare demanded truth. His mother wasn't just worried—she was afraid. Not of him, but for him. And yet… she had to know.
Closing his eyes, he let out a slow breath. For a moment, Kaede thought he had shut her out, refusing to share more. But then he opened them.
The whites of his eyes were gone. Black, bottomless voids stared back at her. A shiver crawled up her spine. For the briefest instant, Kaede felt she wasn't looking at her son anymore, but at some unfathomable abyss peering through his flesh.
Megumi lifted a finger to his left eye. "These eyes let me surpass human limits."
Her instincts as a kunoichi screamed at her to prepare, to act, to draw a blade. But she forced herself still. "If we fought… do you think you could defeat me?"
A dangerous grin tugged at Megumi's lips. "Why would I fight you, Mother? But if it was life or death…"
His body blurred. By the time Kaede blinked, every strip of meat in the serving bowl had vanished, already stacked on his plate.
"I can only hold it for about five minutes," he said flatly, his eyes returning to normal. "Are you satisfied now?"
Kaede leaned back slowly, her arms folding across her chest. She was speechless. Strength was one thing. But his detachment—his almost playful disregard for danger—terrified her more than any ability.
Her silence stretched until finally she exhaled. "You're going to join the other clan children for academy preparation training," she announced firmly. "And when you do, you will not act like an adult. Don't stand out, Megumi. Don't reveal your eyes. Do you understand?"
She rose, walked to his side, and cupped his face in her hands. Her touch softened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. For a moment, she let herself believe he was still her little boy.
Megumi, however, knew otherwise. His summons and his eyes had already created trouble—trouble that couldn't be ignored.
---
The Training Ground
The following day dawned with the restless hum of cicadas in the trees. The Nara clan's training grounds stretched wide, the earth scuffed and hardened by years of drills. Dust clung to the air as dozens of children sparred under the sharp eyes of supervising chunin. The cries of exertion, the dull thud of wooden practice weapons, and the occasional cheer blended into a chaotic chorus.
Megumi stood apart, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His half-lidded gaze swept over the field with disinterest, his expression unreadable. His mother's words whispered in the back of his mind: Don't stand out.
So he didn't. He kept silent. Watched. Waited.
But his silence only made him a target.
"Hey," a mocking voice called. "You're Megumi, right?"
The tone was sharp, cruel. A sneer wrapped in sound. Megumi didn't need to look to feel the killing intent pressing against his skin like cold steel.
He sighed. "What a drag."
Naosuke stepped into view, a tall chunin with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. He wasn't just any supervisor—he was Elder Tsunayoshi's loyal hound, notorious for bullying those weaker than him under the guise of "training."
He shoved Megumi hard, forcing him a step back. "Pretty boy, you think you're better than everyone else? That face tells me you've never suffered a day in your life."
Megumi clenched his jaw. His mother's warning rang like a bell. Don't stand out. Don't fight back.
He stayed silent.
Naosuke's smirk widened. "Oh, I see. Too good to answer, huh? Let me remind you how things work here."
The air thickened. Without further warning, Naosuke struck. His movements were sharp, honed by years of combat. His fists cut the air, aimed mercilessly at Megumi's vital points.
Megumi's reflexes carried him through the storm. He bent, twisted, ducked—his body a blur as he narrowly avoided the worst of the blows. But he couldn't dodge them all.
A vicious kick slammed into his ribs. Pain flared white-hot.
Before he could recover, a fist crashed into his chin, snapping his head back. The world spun as his body hit the dirt hard.
The sharp sting of pain shot through his arm as he landed awkwardly. He tried to rise, but Naosuke's boot came down, crushing his arm against the ground. Megumi gasped, his face contorting as pressure threatened to snap bone.
Then came the barrage. Kicks, stomps, fists—each impact reverberated through his body until his breath hitched and his vision blurred.
Blood filled his mouth. He coughed, spitting crimson into the dust.
It didn't stop.
"Enough!" another supervisor finally barked, rushing forward. He yanked Naosuke back, horrified at the sight of the limp boy beneath him.
Naosuke shrugged him off, eyes still gleaming with cruelty. "This is just a taste," he hissed. "The rest comes tomorrow."
The other children stood frozen, their eyes wide with fear. None dared move, none dared speak. To oppose Naosuke was to invite the same fate.
Megumi lay there, chest heaving, his arm throbbing like fire beneath Naosuke's stomp. His vision darkened at the edges. He tried to push himself up, but his strength failed.
Blood trickled from his nose, staining the dirt beneath him. He coughed again, each breath ragged and shallow.
With the last of his strength, he forced his body upright—just enough to rise onto his knees.
But the world tilted. His legs buckled. The earth rushed up to meet him.
And then, silence.
Darkness swallowed him whole.