The walk to the Senju compound was a silent affair, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle from the little boy whose hand was currently fused to my torn shirt.
Hashirama... The name echoed in my mind, a footnote from a previous life now made it strangely real.
The future God of Shinobi. Currently a snot-nosed liability.
My new escort, the scarred man named Saito, led the way, his eyes constantly scanning the trees. The other shinobi formed a protective perimeter around us, their postures rigid with a tension in the air. This wasn't a walk home; it was a tactical retreat.
"Aniki," Hashirama mumbled, his voice still thick with tears. "Are you really strong? You hit the bad guy so fast."
I glanced down at him. His huge, dark eyes were wide with a hero-worship that was as misplaced as it was irritating.
It was a fluke, I wanted to say... Stop looking at me like that.
Instead,I gave a noncommittal grunt. The less I said, the better. My mind was already racing, calculating. This was a high-level clan. Dangerous. The opportunities for a spectacular, noble death had just multiplied exponentially. A training accident. An assassination attempt on the clan head. A full-scale battle. The possibilities were endless.
Saito fell into step beside me. "You have a name, child? What clan hailed you?" His voice was low.
I stood there for a fraction of a second. A name. I had nothing. I couldn't give my old one. I looked down at the ground, letting my shoulders slump. Let them think the trauma had stolen my voice. Well they will assume I was another orphaned casualty of this endless war. It was the perfect cover.
Saito's gaze softened.
The trees began to thin, revealing our destination. The Senju compound. It was a fortress. A grim palisade of sharpened logs taller than three men, topped with watchtowers where archers stood silhouetted against the setting sun. The air smelled of pine, smoke, and the faint, metallic scent of forged steel. It was a place of war.
Hashirama, however, perked up immediately. "We're home! Father will be so happy to see you, Aniki!"
Hmm.. Father huh, the clan head- Butsuma Senju.
We passed through the main gates into a bustling, yet orderly, encampment. Shinobi in various states of repair nodded at Saito, their eyes lingering on me and the clan heir with open curiosity. We were led to the largest building, a long hall that smelled of old wood.
Inside, seated on a raised dais, was a man who looked like he was carved from the same timber as his walls. Butsuma Senju. His face was all hard lines and grim severity, his eyes holding the cold weight of a man who had sent too many to their graves. This was not a man who appreciated accidents or mysteries.
Hashirama broke free from my side and ran forward. "Father! Father! I'm back! Aniki saved me! He was amazing! He beat the bad guy all by himself!"
Butsuma's gaze swept over his son, checking for injury, before settling on me. Those sharp eyes felt like it was, dissecting me, searching for a threat.
Saito stepped forward and gave a crisp report. "We found the heir with this child standing over the body of a Kusagakure shinobi, sir. He acted to protect Lord Hashirama."
'Protect' is a strong word, I thought. I mostly just fell over.
Butsuma's silence was heavier than any shout. This was my chance. Maybe he'd seen through me. Maybe he'd perceive my calculated existence as a threat. I straightened my back slightly, meeting his gaze without flinching. Yes. See a threat. Order the execution. Do it.
His eyes narrowed. But he didn't see a threat. He saw the steely resolve of a child who had faced death and hadn't broken. He saw the "courage" Saito had described.
"Kusagakure filth," Butsuma finally grunted, his voice a low rumble. "The Senju pay their debts. You saved my heir. You will have a place here. From now on you are a senju."
The disappointment... was so acute it was a physical pain. Another door to death, slammed shut. I just bowed my head, the picture of grateful submission.
As we were dismissed, a young woman entered from a side room, holding a squirming bundle. A shock of white-red hair caught the light.
Hashirama gasped, his previous ordeal forgotten. "Tobi! Aniki, look! That's my baby brother, Tobirama!"
My eyes locked onto the infant. A baby. Fragile. Helpless..
Suddenly I had hope.. A perfect catalyst for a future, tragic, noble death. My mind began to spin with new plans.
Then, the baby stopped fussing. His head turned, and a pair of startlingly bright, intelligent red eyes focused directly on me. He didn't smile. He didn't coo. He just... stared. With an intensity that felt utterly alien in an infant. It was like being scanned, analyzed, and filed away for future reference.
This one, I thought with sudden, unnerving certainty, is going to be my ticket for achieving a nobel death...
Hashirama beamed, misinterpreting the silence completely. "See! Tobi likes you too, Aniki!"
That night, lying on a thin cot in the children's barracks, I listened to the sounds of the compound settling down. My mind was a whirlwind of revised plans. New targets. New strategies.
A soft whimper cut through the dark. Then another. Hashirama was having a nightmare, it seems.
Not my problem, I thought, rolling over. Let the future god deal with his own problems.
The whimpers grew into quiet sobs.
Suddenly the dormant System appeared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Secondary Objective: Comfort Senju Hashirama to ensure emotional stability and prosperity.]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I cursed the System with every fiber of my being. With a sigh of utter exasperation, I dragged myself out of my cot and knelt beside his.
I didn't know what to do. I awkwardly patted his head. "Hey. Stop it."
To my astonishment, he calmed almost instantly. His hand shot out in his sleep and grabbed mine, holding on with a grip that was shockingly strong for a toddler. He had a small, peaceful smile gracing his features.
I was trapped. Kneeling on the cold floor, my hand held hostage by a sleeping four-year-old.
This, I thought, staring into the darkness with a sense of profound resignation, is going to be much, much harder than I thought.