The group was heading toward the old watchtower, Mizue and Aika leading the charge, whispering about rumors that the tower was haunted — that it lured children in and swallowed them whole.
As they drew closer, the tower loomed out of the mist.
It stood crooked at the edge of the district, half-sunk into vines and storm-stained stone. Its bell had long fallen silent, a green-mouthed relic of wars past. Children said it rang on its own during lightning storms, and that ghosts climbed its stairs, counting trespassers on their fingers.
Daichi slowed, his voice tight. "I don't think we should get any closer, guys…"
Aika smirked. "Oh, come on, Daichi. Stop being a wuss. First one to the top wins. Last one buys lunch!"
Before anyone could protest, she bolted. Mizue cursed and sprinted after her.
Raizen blinked, caught off guard, then broke into a grin and gave chase. Daichi trailed reluctantly, stomach tight with dread.
Inside, the tower was damp and cool, light falling in dusty shafts. Halfway up, Aika stomped on a rotted plank, making Mizue shriek, then laugh. Daichi hunched his shoulders, waiting for the shove he half-expected from Raizen… but it never came.
Raizen brushed the wall as he climbed. For a heartbeat his left eye sparked — not sight, but a strange static blur. Shapes of chakra flickered like smoke at the edge of his vision. He gasped softly, and the vision vanished.
"Raizen?" Daichi asked.
"Nothing," Raizen said quickly, forcing a smile. They kept climbing.
At the top, the storm stretched across the sky in full glory. Kumogakure sprawled below, terraces of slate roofs and snapping banners. Mountains pierced the clouds, their peaks silver with old lightning scars. The air smelled of rain waiting to fall.
Aika spread her arms wide. "We own the village!"
"Until a jōnin catches us," Mizue muttered, grinning anyway.
Raizen leaned against the railing, the storm's rhythm pressing against him like a heartbeat. His left eye throbbed faintly — blind, but never still. He touched it without thinking.
That was when the board beneath Aika split.
She shrieked as her foot plunged through. The bell rope snapped loose, whipping across the platform. Daichi froze. Mizue screamed.
Raizen didn't think — he moved.
He caught Aika's wrist before she toppled over the edge. The rope lashed past, grazing his cheek. For an instant his left eye flared again, and he swore he saw threads of chakra twisting through the air, bright and dangerous. Then it was gone.
Aika clung to him, wide-eyed. "You—"
Boots thundered on the stairs. A jōnin stormed onto the platform, scar across his cheek. His eyes swept the scene — the broken plank, the loose rope, four guilty faces.
"You four," he barked. "Off the tower. Now."
No one argued.
At the bottom, the jōnin pinched the bridge of his nose. "This tower isn't maintained. People die falling from it. And you—" his gaze locked on Raizen's pale eye, "—what technique was that?"
Raizen's stomach tightened. "N-Nothing, sir. Just… caught her."
The jōnin studied him too long. Then, flatly: "Name."
"Raizen Tsukihana."
Recognition flickered in the man's expression. A calculation. "Report to your clan compound. There will be questions."
He turned and left.
Aika shoved Raizen's shoulder, trying to mask her relief. "Thanks for saving me. But you're still buying rice cakes."
Mizue grinned, looping her arm through his. Daichi lingered on his other side, silent, watching him as if seeing him for the first time.
That Night
Raizen sat cross-legged in his room, lamp burning low. His reflection stared back at him from the polished mirror stand: one sharp black eye, the other a pale, empty moon.
He leaned closer, whispering to himself.
"This eye… it's strange. For a second I saw chakra threads, clear as daylight. But I can't see through it. I'm blind."
He pressed his fingers against the lid.
"If it's some kind of dōjutsu, why doesn't it work? If it were the Byakugan, wouldn't I have access to it already? Maybe it's connected somehow. Or maybe it's just… broken."
His hand curled into a fist. "This blindness is my greatest weakness. It'll hold me back from becoming a shinobi — from changing anything. But… maybe I can work around it. Sensors exist. People find ways to fight without eyes."
He exhaled, shoulders shaking once. "No. I won't let it stop me. I won't just survive in this world — I'll thrive."
Outside, thunder rolled across the peaks. His blind eye caught the flicker of the lamp's flame, a ghost of light in a sea of white.
Elsewhere
In the next room, Lord Jairo Tsukihana read the report of the day's incident, expression grim.
"This eye…" he murmured. "It resembles the Hyūga's cursed eyes. And yet… it isn't. Could this be a new mutation?"
Taro stood at his side, arms folded. "The jōnin said he felt a chakra spike — from the boy's eye. I believe it's dormant. Adjusting to his body. Perhaps a mutation, yes… but not an impossible one, given our clan's distant ties."
Jairo exhaled heavily. "Whatever it is, it's doing him no good. He's blind in one eye. Even the clan doubts if he'll survive the Academy."
"Sir," Taro said carefully, "let him grow. See if he has the drive. If not, forcing training will only do harm. Tomorrow is his birthday. Focus on cherishing that. You only get those moments once."
Jairo's jaw tightened. "And his behavior? Have you noticed?"
Taro nodded slowly. "It's no secret the boy used to flaunt his name. He bullied his friends, humiliated them to feed his ego. But today… that side never showed. Perhaps… he's changing."
Jairo said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the wall between their rooms.
The Next Day — Raizen's Birthday
The Tsukihana compound was alive with sound and stormlight. Lanterns glowed. Servants carried trays of rice cakes and grilled fish. Children darted through the courtyard, laughter cutting through the rumble of thunder.
At the center sat Raizen, dressed in ceremonial gray robes lined with silver stitching. His pale left eye caught the light strangely, a blind moon that made people avert their gaze.
The old Raizen's cruelty lingered in memory. Some children flinched when he glanced at them. Even adults smiled stiffly, uncertain.
"Happy birthday, young master!" Taro boomed, carrying a lacquered box to him. "A gift, from Lord Jairo."
Gasps rippled through the guests. A gift from the clan head was no small thing.
Raizen lifted the lid. Inside lay a silver ring, etched with a spiral, set with a pale-blue stone that shimmered faintly in the lantern glow.
Whispers rose. Envy. Suspicion.
Taro's deep voice carried over them. "This ring is an heirloom of our clan. Its meaning has been passed down through generations. Guard it well, Raizen."
Raizen's hand trembled as he slid it onto his finger. The band was cool, the stone faintly warm. For a moment, the noise around him dimmed — he felt something in it, a weight, a quiet promise.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Later, under the courtyard eaves, he sat apart, watching lanterns sway. Children still avoided him, but Daichi approached shyly with a rice cake wrapped in cloth.
"You didn't shove me today," Daichi said.
Raizen laughed awkwardly. "Guess I'm changing."
Daichi studied him for a long second, then sat beside him.
Raizen looked at the ring, the spiral glinting in the stormlight. Above, thunder rolled over the peaks.
He clenched his fist. Maybe I don't have to live in his shadow. Maybe this is something more.