The school bell rang, signaling the end of classes.
The last rays of sunlight slipped away from the office.
The oil lamp crackled, casting its light on Homeroom Teacher Kimura Shū's face, a mix of exhaustion and forced sternness.
A thin layer of sweat slicked his forehead, and his voice, deliberately lowered, enunciated each word with effort. "Ryo-kun. Unity and friendship are the Will of Fire. Sparring in Taijutsu class isn't a fight to the death. Minato-kun is still in the medical ward, with a dislocated shoulder, contusions under his ribs, and a mild concussion."
Kimura Shū lectured until his throat was dry, but the figure across the desk remained as stubborn as a reef.
This child's notorious reputation preceded him. Which teacher in the entire Ninja Academy didn't turn a blind eye to his antics? But this time, he had gone too far.
And Ryo?
His eyelids drooped as if he hadn't fully woken up, barely managing to keep his head from thudding onto the desk.
Faced with his unyielding demeanor, Kimura Shū was utterly helpless, only a sigh escaping him.
Kimura Shū waved a hand, tiredly rubbing his temples. "Alright, go home. Next time, next time, remember to keep your limits in mind."
"Got it," Ryo mumbled in response.
He grabbed the faded, worn-at-the-edges old schoolbag from the back of his chair, slung it carelessly over his shoulder, twisted the doorknob, and walked out without a backward glance.
His movements were as swift as if fleeing a plague.
The corridor was quiet, only faint shouts echoing from the distant training ground.
The school gate was mostly empty.
Just a few steps outside the school gate, a suppressed sob and a harsh burst of laughter reached Ryo's ears. Turning the corner into the shadow of the street, he saw a group of people gathered there.
A Genin, wearing a Konoha forehead protector, was pulling a small figure up from the ground by her fiery red hair.
It was Kushina.
Her small face was covered in dust, mixed with tears and despair, like a crumpled, dirty rag doll.
Several older students and the Genin laughed together. One of them pointed at Kushina's red hair, laughing so hard he doubled over. "Hahaha, look, Yamada-san, I told you so. She looks like a ripe, rotting tomato."
"It's this weird red hair." The Genin named Yamada's voice rose, filled with malice, his fingers twisting her strands of hair as if they were something filthy. "So ugly and red, you won't find a third one like it in all of Konoha." He looked around, seeking more agreement. "And her temper is absolutely awful. Isn't that right, little runt?"
Kushina hung suspended, her feet dangling, and the last spark of defiance in her light blue eyes completely extinguished.
Yamada's words, especially "tomato" — the explosion of laughter in the classroom a few days ago, the nasty taunts, the cold malice — like a tide, instantly engulfed her.
All her grievances, helplessness, anger, and self-loathing for her red hair burst forth.
"Waa… I… I…!" Kushina's voice shattered, no longer her usual stubbornness, but a wail of utter defeat, tears mixing with dirt as they streamed down. "I… I hate this red hair the most myself! Waaah!"
That desperate cry pricked a nerve in Ryo.
It wasn't just Kushina's red hair they were mocking. That was his own taboo, a taboo he had beaten the entire Ninja Academy into submission to suppress.
More than that, they were mocking Kushina herself, the only one who wasn't afraid to approach him, the little bandit classmate who dared to steal his rations, the troublesome friend he complained about but would secretly add an extra portion of food for at night.
Yamada was still grinning triumphantly, saying to those around him, "Did you hear that? Even she herself… huh?!" Before he could finish, his vision blurred.
The onlookers didn't even see how the figure rushed over. They only felt a gust of foul wind.
Ryo's face was as cold as frost, the chill in his eyes sharper than a blade.
He didn't even speak, that ferocious aura unreservedly crushing down. The older students who had been laughing a second ago instantly became like chickens with their necks squeezed, their smiles frozen on their faces as they instinctively took a few steps back.
"R… Ryo?!" The triumph on Yamada's face instantly turned to terror, his voice changing pitch.
Of course he recognized that face, that red hair. This was the Ninja Academy's most terrifying nightmare.
Damn it. Didn't they say it was a world of difference once you graduated and became a Genin?
The Chunin leading his team had thumped his chest, guaranteeing, "Ninja Academy students are like little brothers in front of Genin." That voice was still buzzing in his ears.
It was all nonsense. A monster was still a monster.
The brief surge of confidence from successfully becoming a Genin made him think he was capable. He had specifically returned to the Ninja Academy today to settle the scores from when he used to get beaten up.
But the nightmare itself was right before his eyes.
He wanted to let go, wanted to retreat. Too late.
Ryo's movements were as swift as a ghost.
His right hand shot out like lightning, not a fist, but five fingers gripping Yamada's wrist, the one still clutching Kushina's hair.
"Snap."
The crisp sound of bone dislocating was incredibly clear.
"Aaaagh!" Yamada's pig-like shriek almost tore through the twilight sky. The intense pain made him instantly release his grip.
Kushina fell to the ground as if her strength had given out.
Ryo didn't even glance at Kushina, his icy gaze fixed solely on Yamada's face, contorted with pain and fear.
The grip on his wrist didn't loosen in the slightest, even twisting cruelly.
Yamada felt his bones groan and shatter. He tried to break free, but found the strength from the hand gripping him was like an iron clamp, unmoving.
Ryo's other hand balled into a fist at his waist, his elbow slamming backward, striking Yamada squarely in the chest and abdomen without any fancy moves.
"Thud."
A dull, heart-stopping impact sounded.
Yamada's body arched sharply upward like a broken sack, his eyeballs bulging, his scream abruptly cut short, turning into a gasping, rattling sound as saliva mixed with suspicious acidic fluid spewed out.
A violent sense of suffocation and the pain of tearing internal organs instantly overwhelmed him.
Ryo's movements were as fluid as breathing.
His right arm, twisting the wrist, combined with the power from his waist and legs, used the momentum to forcefully slam Yamada against the cold stone wall beside them.
"Clang. Crash."
Yamada's body hit the wall squarely, without any cushioning.
A massive impact echoed through the alley, making people's eardrums throb.
Loose stones crumbled down from the wall.
Yamada slid down the wall like a flattened fly, collapsing onto the ground, his body twitching irregularly, unable to even whimper.
His brand new ninja forehead protector hung askew on one side of his forehead, the beautiful swirl symbol dull and lifeless.
The world fell silent.
The entire process took no more than five seconds.
The onlookers' faces were ashen, silent as cicadas, their eyes on Ryo as if looking at a true demon or Asura.
So strong. So ruthless.
A Genin? In front of the red-haired demon, he was like paper.
Only then did Ryo lower his gaze to Kushina, who had fallen to the ground, tear streaks still on her small face, but her mouth agape in shock, having forgotten to cry.
"Tsk." He pursed his lips and walked over.
"Get up." His tone was still stiff, without any comforting gentleness.
Ryo bent down, not gently but efficiently grabbing Kushina's arm, half-lifting, half-cradling her from the ground. Her knees clearly had scrapes, her hair was completely disheveled, covered in dust, and she looked utterly bedraggled.
Kushina was still shaken. When Ryo pulled her up, she stumbled, instinctively wanting to throw herself into his arms for a sense of security, but was frozen in place by Ryo's intimidating aura that warned people to keep their distance. She could only let him hold her arm.
Ryo frowned, looking at her state, especially her red, tear-stained eyes and the muddy streaks on her cheeks.
"Tsk." He clicked his tongue again, his impatience growing.
Kushina's heart clenched, thinking he was going to scold her for causing trouble.
But then Ryo, with a somewhat rough motion, raised his hand and used the inside of his own still-clean sleeve to haphazardly wipe her still-wet cheeks a couple of times.
His movements were awkward, making Kushina feel a little pain, and dislodging a few undried grains of sand.
But the dry, rough touch of the fabric, and Ryo's frowning yet genuinely wiping-her-face action, were like a faint but real spark of fire, unexpectedly piercing through the desperate, icy darkness in Kushina's heart.
He hadn't abandoned her.
He had beaten up that bad guy.
And now, he was helping her wipe her face.
Even if his technique was terrible.
Grievance, fear, and a little inexplicable warmth mixed together, making her nose sting and her tear ducts threaten to burst again.
"Don't cry." Ryo immediately glared at her fiercely. "You're too loud." But his voice unconsciously lowered a bit.
Scolded by him, Kushina sniffled and actually managed to hold back her tears, leaving only a pair of wet, red, wide eyes staring at him blankly and dependently.
Ryo turned around and half-squatted in front of her.
"Get on. I'll take you home." His tone left no room for argument.
Kushina froze, looking at the not-so-broad back in front of her, dressed in faded old clothes.
"Hurry up," Ryo urged impatiently.
Kushina flinched at the shout, instinctively and clumsily climbed onto his back, her arms carefully wrapping around Ryo's neck.
Her body was very light, but the moment she pressed against him, Ryo still frowned slightly. The soft, gentle feeling of a girl was unusually strange and awkward to him.
Kushina carefully lay on his back, her two slender legs supported by his strong hands.
As he stood upright, Kushina felt as if she was lifted from the ground by a solid force, and briefly lifted away from the terrifying nightmare she had just experienced.
She gently pressed her hot cheek against the spot just above Ryo's nape, where the stubborn and messy roots of his red hair were.
"Which way?" Ryo shifted her weight, his tone returning to its usual indifference.
"Um… um… turn left, go through two commercial streets, towards the old Senju clan compound…" Kushina whispered, her voice thick with a nasal tone and the hoarseness of someone who had just escaped danger. "Mito-baachan's house…"
Ryo started walking, completely ignoring the onlookers still frozen in place.
His pace was not fast, but very steady.
The evening breeze ruffled Kushina's messy red hair, and also brushed against Ryo's neck.
Kushina lay on his back, feeling the steady and slight jostling. The fear slowly receded, and a strange sense of security quietly crept into her heart.
She hesitated, then bravely whispered, "Ryo… are… are you very angry?" Her voice was barely louder than a mosquito's, carrying careful tentativeness.
Ryo's steps didn't falter. After a few seconds of silence, he grumbled in a muffled voice, "…It's fine."
"But that person, he seemed to say… he was… taught a lesson by you before?" Kushina remembered Yamada's terrified expression when he saw him.
Ryo snorted. "Too much trash, who remembers which pit they crawled out of?"
That was indeed the case. Minor characters like Yamada, who only deserved one punch before being sent packing, held no place in his memory.
Kushina fell silent.
After walking for a while, the dim streetlights at the corner cast long shadows of the two of them.
Kushina's voice softly rose again. "Ryo… just now… when that person was pulling my hair… I said I hated red hair… it was… it was out of anger." Her voice was a little urgent, wanting to explain clearly. "I… I don't really hate it… I'm just… just so sad… they always… always say 'tomato'… that's why I…"
Ryo continued walking, not looking back, only tossing out a blunt reply. "What's it to them? Can't even control their own mouths over someone else's hair?" He paused, then seemed to think his words weren't harsh enough, adding fiercely, "Next time anyone dares to run their mouth, you tell them my name. If that doesn't work, just point them out to me after I wake up."
These words were domineering and unreasonable to the extreme.
But to Kushina's ears, they sounded like an indestructible form of protection.
Grievance and unease surged again, but this time, she clung tightly to this unreasonable protection.
She buried her face deeper into Ryo's clothes, which carried a faint scent of sweat and dust, and mumbled a muffled "Mm."
On her cute little face, the corners of her mouth were secretly turned up.
Neither of them spoke again.
They walked past the brightly lit commercial street, the clamor of the crowd gradually fading away.
Ryo, guided by Kushina's occasional pointers, entered a quiet area.
Tall, traditional wooden houses were scattered about. This was the old Senju clan compound.
Finally, they stopped in front of a heavy, ancient wooden door.
"Are we there?" Ryo asked.
"Mm…" Kushina softly replied, her voice mumbling and still carrying a cute nasal tone.
Ryo's hand supporting her bent legs loosened slightly, preparing to squat down to let her off.
Just then, with a creak, the door opened.
The first to run out was Nawaki. He seemed to have just returned home from training, yelling, "Sis. Have you seen my kunai pouch…" Before he could finish, his gaze passed over Tsunade, who had opened the door, and he froze at the doorway as if struck by lightning.
In the last rays of the setting sun, the Red-Haired Tyrant, Ryo, known throughout the school and whom Nawaki himself tried to avoid, stood at their doorstep, carrying his family's new red-haired little sister, Kushina, on his back.
Their posture was awkward yet somewhat… how to describe it?
Strangely harmonious.
Ryo's face, usually either irritable or indifferent, showed no expression. Kushina was nestled against his back, her small face still buried in his clothes, only revealing a bit of her flushed profile and messy red hair.
Nawaki's eyes instantly widened more than his kunai, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg.
"Clang." The water bottle he was holding dropped to the ground, making a crisp sound. The water sloshed out, spilling all over the doorstep.
(To be continued.)
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