Chapter 25 – Quiet Words
The sun had barely risen when Jiraiya called Akira out beyond the village walls. The morning air was cool, damp with dew, and the forest still carried the weight of night.
"Focus," Jiraiya's voice cut through the silence, calm but firm. His massive frame was crouched against a tree, arms crossed, sharp eyes on Akira. "Don't just throw chakra around. Feel it. Control it. Your power isn't some wild storm — it has to bend to you."
Akira stood at the center of a small clearing, golden Byakugan active, sweat dripping down his brow. His chakra swirled around him in waves, pulling leaves and dust into spirals.
He grit his teeth, pulling that force inward, compressing it against his will. Slowly… painfully… the wild currents bent, forming into a calm sphere around him.
Jiraiya smirked, nodding once. "Good. You're learning fast. Faster than most."
Akira exhaled, his chest heaving. "You make it sound easy," he muttered, though his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a grin.
Jiraiya laughed, loud and rough. "Of course it's not easy! Nothing worth doing ever is. But remember this, kid — power isn't just about crushing your enemies. It's about deciding why you fight."
Those words lingered in Akira's mind long after Jiraiya dismissed him. By the time he walked back into the village and toward the academy, the morning sun was already bright above the roofs.
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The courtyard buzzed with restless voices.
"Did you hear? The White Fang's back!"
"They say he slaughtered a whole Iwa squad on his own!"
"Even the Sannin fear him, I heard—"
Akira paused as he spotted Kakashi among the crowd. His friend's face was unreadable as always, but Akira noticed the way his shoulders were too stiff, the way his hands clenched just slightly at his sides.
Without hesitation, Akira stepped into place beside him.
"...It bothers you," Akira said softly, his sharp gaze catching the flicker in Kakashi's eyes.
Kakashi's lips pressed thin. "They don't know him. They just talk."
Akira tilted his head, calm as ever. "They don't see the man. Only the weapon." His golden Byakugan dimmed as he blinked, his voice steady. "But you and I know better. Power like your father's… it's not for fear. It's for protection."
Kakashi froze, his chest tightening at the words.
Akira continued, sharp but not unkind: "Let them whisper. They've never carried a blade for others. They've never had to."
For a heartbeat, silence pressed between them. Kakashi turned his face away, but his voice was lower, quieter.
"...You talk too much."
Akira smirked faintly. "And you sulk too much."
A short, sharp breath escaped Kakashi — almost a laugh, though he'd never admit it. Together, they walked toward the academy building.
The whispers didn't stop. But for Kakashi, they no longer weighed as heavy. Somewhere inside, Akira's words settled like a shield — small, but strong enough to carry the burden of being Sakumo's son.
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