The shadow had become a part of his life. Every morning, Ryu would wake and feel its presence, a cold, constant weight on his existence. The Root Anbu was a ghost perched on a nearby roof, a faceless observer in the market, a silent testament to Danzo's unblinking interest. This suffocating watchfulness forced Ryu to adapt, to weave a life of even deeper deception. The game had changed.
So, on this day, his strategy was reversed.
In the quiet of his room, he created two shadow clones. They stood before him, perfect, silent copies. To one, he passed a scroll on fire style. To the other, a primer on the confusing art of genjutsu. As they flickered away to their secret tasks, the real Ryu put on the mask of a normal five-year-old and headed for the Academy. It was time for a public performance.
The classroom was a dull, familiar hum. He chatted with the clones of his friends, their conversations lacking the usual spark of life.
"Not joining us today?" Itachi's clone asked, its voice a perfect but soulless imitation.
Ryu leaned back in his chair, putting on a convincing show of being tired. "Nah, I'm still beat from our last spar. Think I'm just gonna take it easy today. I'll be there tomorrow, promise."
The excuse was accepted without question. Later, during a break, Ryu approached Daikoku-sensei with a carefully crafted look of earnest passion. "Sensei," he asked, "I want to learn kenjutsu. I want to know how to fight with a sword."
The teacher, impressed by the boy's unyielding drive, readily agreed to find him a proper instructor. The performance was a success. He had played his part well, the part of a driven but otherwise normal student.
The walk home was his moment to drop the act. As the village began to glow under the setting sun, Ryu found a quiet alley and released the jutsu.
The world tilted for a second as a day's worth of experience crashed into his mind. He felt the phantom heat of a successfully executed Fireball Jutsu, the memory of his clone's singed eyebrows a comical but useful lesson. He felt the dizzying, circular logic of genjutsu theory, a confusing headache that promised a powerful tool if he could ever untangle its knots.
These memories were layered over the real reason for his exhaustion. His mind flashed back to the morning before, to the raw, untamed power of his new technique. He could still feel the crushing chakra drain that had left him too weak to even walk. He had a name for it now, something as grand and ridiculous as the power it held: Secret Technique: Lightning Release Majestic Devastation version 1.
He was so lost in this sea of secrets, jutsu, and exhaustion that he almost didn't register opening his own front door. He stepped inside, his mind still a world away, and was immediately enveloped in a tight, desperate hug.
His mother. And she was crying.
His blood ran cold. The complex world of a reincarnated shinobi vanished, replaced by the simple, primal fear of a child. "Mom? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice cracking with panic as he struggled to see her face. "What happened? Is Dad okay?"
She just clung to him, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Just as his fear reached a fever pitch, she pulled back. Her face was a mess of tears, but she was smiling—a brilliant, radiant, tear-filled smile.
"No, no, my baby, nothing is wrong," she said, her voice thick with joy. "These are happy tears."
She took his small hand, her own trembling slightly, and placed it gently on her stomach. Ryu looked at her, confused.
"You're going to be a big brother," she whispered.
The words landed, and the entire world shifted. All the secrets, all the lies, all the weight of the future—it all dissolved in the face of this one, simple, beautiful truth. An orphan in his last life, he was now going to be an older brother. His family, the anchor of his new existence, was growing.
A joy so pure and overwhelming it stole his breath flooded through him, and his own eyes filled with tears. Kizashi appeared, his face a perfect match of his wife's teary grin, and pulled them both into a massive, enveloping hug. Tucked safely in the warmth of his family, surrounded by a love he once thought impossible, Ryu felt, for the first time in a long time, completely and utterly home.
The hug felt like it lasted a lifetime. Tucked between his parents, with the scent of his mother's happy tears and his father's proud laughter all around him, Ryu felt a joy so pure and simple it almost hurt. When they finally broke apart, his mother's face was still glowing, and his father looked like he might burst with happiness.
"A big brother!" Kizashi boomed, his voice echoing in their small home. "Ryu, you're going to be a big brother! We have to celebrate properly!"
The celebration wasn't a grand party. It was something much better. Mebuki brought out a small, rich chocolate cake she had been saving for a special occasion, and Kizashi made a pot of sweet, warm tea. They sat around their small kitchen table, the single slice of cake with three forks looking like the most wonderful feast in the world.
Kizashi was already making plans. "We'll need to add a room! Or maybe we can find a bigger place! A house with a real yard! A boy needs a yard to practice his jutsu in, you know! And a girl, well, a girl needs a yard to… also practice her jutsu in!"
Mebuki just laughed, a sound like soft bells, and placed her hand over her husband's. "Slow down, dear. We have plenty of time."
Ryu ate the cake, the rich, sweet taste a perfect match for the moment. He watched his parents, truly watched them. The way his father's eyes kept crinkling at the corners with his constant, beaming smile. The way his mother would unconsciously rest a hand on her stomach, a look of serene, quiet wonder on her face. This was happiness. It was real and solid, and it was his.
But with this new joy came a new, heavier weight. Before, his goal had been to protect his parents, two capable former shinobi. Now, a new life was coming. A tiny, helpless baby who would be completely dependent on them. On him. The timeline in his head, the one that was relentlessly counting down to the night of the Nine-Tails attack, suddenly felt much shorter. The danger felt much closer.
Later that night, tucked into his bed, he stared at the ceiling. The word echoed in his mind, over and over.
Big brother.
He had a new title. And it was the most important one in the world.
The next morning, the air was cold and sharp before the dawn, but Ryu felt a fire burning in his chest. His training was different now. It was no longer just for him, or even just for his parents. It was for a future he could now see more clearly, for a tiny, unknown face he already loved with a fierce intensity.
Every push-up was a promise. I will be strong enough.
Every breathless lap around the clearing was a vow. I will be fast enough.
He stood before a large training log, his hands held out. He focused, molding his fire chakra, remembering the flicker of success. He pictured a tiny hand gripping his finger, a baby's trusting gaze. The image fueled him. He took a deep breath and let it out.
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!"
A torrent of brilliant orange flame erupted from his mouth, much larger and more powerful than any he had managed before. It slammed into the log, engulfing it in a searing inferno and leaving a deep, charred crater in the wood. He panted, the smell of smoke and burnt pine filling the air. This power wasn't for glory or for fighting games. It was for protection. It was for his family.
He met his friends at their secret training ground that afternoon. He had shared his news with them at the Academy, and the excitement was still buzzing around them.
"I can't believe you're gonna have a little brother or sister!" Hana said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Can I be the first one to teach them how to throw a punch?"
"A new life is a blessing," Itachi said with a rare, gentle smile. He, of all people, understood. He placed a hand on Ryu's shoulder. "You and I will have to exchange notes on being a good older brother."
The warmth of their friendship was a comfort. It made his secret burden feel a little lighter. He knew he was using them, in a way, pushing them to get stronger for a fight they knew nothing about. But looking at their trusting faces, he also knew he was protecting them. They were his friends. His pack. His precious people.
He took a deep breath, the image of his parents at the kitchen table, a slice of chocolate cake between them, clear in his mind.
"Alright," Ryu said, a new, harder resolve in his voice. "Let's get to work."