How did it come to this?
Standing before the Memorial Stone, Shiraishi Gisei couldn't help but wonder. He'd only meant to go for a walk, but somehow his feet had carried him here.
He sighed softly, his eyes scanning the stone until they found the familiar names.
"I start at the Ninja Academy tomorrow," he murmured. "You'd probably be happy if you were still alive. Everything's fine at home, it's just… emptier. Uncle Rongze has been a drunk these last two years. Sometimes I don't see him for days. If he drank himself to death somewhere, I probably wouldn't even know…"
After rambling for a while longer, Shiraishi Gisei fell silent.
How had things turned out this way?
After realizing he'd been reincarnated into the world of Naruto, Shiraishi Gisei thought he'd be punching the Third Hokage and kicking Obito in no time. He even imagined spitting at Uchiha Madara's feet.
"Do you also want to dance?"
"No, no. I just want to dig up your ancestors' graves."
He had the whole script planned out, but he never expected to be born so early.
It was currently the 15th year of Konoha, and he, Shiraishi Gisei, was six years old. Sarutobi Hiruzen had only been the Third Hokage for two years. As for Uchiha Obito… his father probably hadn't even been born yet. And Uchiha Madara was definitely still alive, though who knew if he'd awakened the Rinnegan.
But those were small details. The most important thing was that Shiraishi Gisei had discovered his own background was a huge problem.
The Butterfly Clan?
Who could tell him what the hell that was? Shiraishi Gisei racked his brain but couldn't recall any ninja clan by that name in Konoha. When he was just born, he wondered if his clan was related to the Akimichi clan, since they were the only ones he remembered being associated with butterflies.
As time went on, he realized he'd overthought it. The Akimichi clan's connection was their Butterfly Mode secret technique. His clan, on the other hand... well, they were just a bunch of people who played with butterflies, exactly like how the Aburame clan played with bugs. The only difference was that butterflies were prettier.
But the Aburame clan had a place among the Konoha 11 in the original story. His clan…
Heh. A clan that didn't even get a cameo was probably just cannon fodder.
His theory was confirmed quickly. Less than a year after he was born, his grandfather—the one who liked to poke him with his beard—died on a mission, leaving behind only a name on the Memorial Stone.
With his grandfather's death, the Butterfly Clan went berserk. Clansmen began to disappear in groups, and then the First Shinobi World War broke out. Only a few people from the entire clan survived, and luckily, his parents were among them. He thought the worst was over and that things would be smooth sailing from then on.
But his parents didn't die on the battlefield. They died during a routine mission. Only one person survived: his uncle, Shiraishi Rongze.
The story was that he'd fled the battle, abandoning his parents to save himself.
Although Shiraishi Gisei didn't believe it, his uncle's attitude toward him—the look in his eyes—had clearly changed. Their relationship now was hard to put into words.
After standing before the Memorial Stone for another half an hour, Shiraishi Gisei turned and headed home.
In the empty courtyard, he began practicing with his shuriken. He was very accurate; after all, he'd been practicing since he was three. As for chakra cultivation, Shiraishi Rongze had only taught him last year. After a year of practice, Shiraishi Gisei was certain he was no genius; the amount of chakra in his body was pitifully small.
As for Taijutsu, Shiraishi Gisei decided he couldn't handle the intense training, so he didn't bother.
Just as he was getting into a rhythm with his shuriken, the main gate creaked open. Shiraishi Rongze had returned, reeking of alcohol.
Shiraishi Gisei glanced up at the midday sun. "Something wrong?" he asked.
His uncle usually came back late at night or early in the morning. This was the first time in two years he'd seen him at noon. And, looking at his eyes, he seemed surprisingly sober.
"Yeah," Shiraishi Rongze said, walking over and sitting on the steps. "There's something I want to ask your opinion on."
Shiraishi Gisei just stared at him. The two locked eyes, and an awkward silence fell between them.
Finally, Shiraishi Rongze spoke. "You're starting at the Ninja Academy tomorrow?"
Shiraishi Gisei grunted in confirmation. "You actually care about that?"
Another uncomfortable silence.
Shiraishi Rongze had a headache, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Ever since returning from that mission, he'd been stripped of his ninja status. But whether he was a ninja or not didn't matter to him now. What mattered was the child in front of him—the future of their clan.
But with their relationship having soured so much, some things were hard to bring back.
He decided to get straight to the point. "Someone found me today. They want you to join the Anbu training class. The things they teach at the Ninja Academy are basic. You'll learn more in the Anbu."
Anbu training class?
Shiraishi Gisei's mouth twitched. "Can I ask who this person was?" he said, his face blank.
"Shimura Danzo."
"Who?"
"Shimura Danzo."
When the name left his uncle's mouth a second time, Shiraishi Gisei helplessly pressed a hand to his forehead, cursing silently. It wasn't that Danzo was interested in him, but rather in the Butterfly Clan's secret technique. The thought made his stomach turn.
Shiraishi Gisei practically gritted his teeth. "Did you agree?"
Seeing the look of pure hatred on his nephew's face, Shiraishi Rongze narrowed his eyes. "Not yet. Has Danzo done something to you?"
Shiraishi Gisei breathed a sigh of relief. "I am absolutely not going to any Anbu training class," he said, enunciating every word. "I am going to the Ninja Academy."
With that, he turned and walked away, afraid of what other bad news might come out of his uncle's mouth. He stormed back to his room, leaving Shiraishi Rongze sitting alone in the courtyard, lost in thought.
Time ticked by. Shiraishi Rongze remained motionless on the steps until evening. When Shiraishi Gisei came out to make dinner, his uncle finally stood up.
"Do you want to learn the clan's secret technique?" he asked.
"If you're willing to teach, I'll learn. If not, then forget it."
It was an honest thought. Shiraishi Gisei had always felt the Butterfly Clan's secret technique wasn't very useful. No matter how beautiful the butterflies were, a single fire jutsu could burn them all to a crisp. Besides, a grown man playing with butterflies felt effeminate and embarrassing. He remembered a man from the clan named Shiraishi Sheng. He was a big, rough-looking guy with a fierce face, and seeing him play with butterflies always struck Shiraishi Gisei as incredibly strange.
"Follow me."
Shiraishi Rongze led him to the Butterfly Clan's compound. Standing in the center of the clan hall, he began forming hand seals so fast it made Shiraishi Gisei's head spin.
"Open!"
With a low shout, a hole slowly opened in the ground. Layers of stairs led down into darkness, and gusts of cold wind billowed up, making the entrance seem particularly eerie.
As they descended, lights flickered on one by one. The uneasiness in Shiraishi Gisei's heart faded with the growing light, and he began to examine his surroundings. The stairs ended in a corridor with five wooden doors on each side.
He tried to push one open. An unpleasant smell rushed out, choking him and sending him into a coughing fit. Inside, the room was bare except for a few bookshelves and a desk with a chair.
"Shiraishi Rongze's voice came from the doorway. "This used to be where we stored ninjutsu scrolls and notes on cultivation. Your father put everything away."
Shiraishi Gisei pushed open another door and found it furnished exactly the same. He didn't bother with the rest. Everything inside had probably been cleared out by his father. With the clan's decline, it was no longer safe to store such things here.
Beyond the corridor was a large hall. In its center stood a pentagonal altar. For some reason, the moment he saw it, the hair on Shiraishi Gisei's arms stood on end. He felt a deep sense of dread.
"Stand on it."
Shiraishi Rongze's voice, quiet but firm, came from behind him.
"Huh?"
In that instant, a dozen terrible images flashed through his mind. He swallowed hard. "This… this isn't a good idea… You're my uncle, and I'm your nephew. Our relationship isn't great, but it's not broken. We're the only two left in the clan…"
Shiraishi Rongze just stared at him with a faint smile. Shiraishi Gisei turned and ran.
His uncle didn't move. Only when Shiraishi Gisei was about to escape the hall did he slowly form a hand seal.
"Body Flicker Technique!"
He appeared just in front of Shiraishi Gisei, blocking his path.
"What are you running for? Don't you want to inherit the clan's secret technique?"
Shiraishi Gisei shook his head frantically. "Absolutely n—I mean, I think it's too early. Can we wait until I'm older?"
"That's not what you said a minute ago."
Shiraishi Rongze picked him up like a small animal and placed him on the altar, ignoring his pitiful, nervous expression. He formed a seal with both hands and slammed them onto the ground. The sound of rattling chains echoed from beneath the altar.
A cross?
Shiraishi Gisei's eyes went wide. What kind of messed-up secret technique was this? Was he sure it wasn't a sacrifice?
Shiraishi Rongze tied him to the cross. Looking at his struggling nephew, a complex expression crossed his face. "Don't be nervous. The inheritance of our clan's secret technique just hurts a bit. That's why I have to tie you up."
Standing below the altar, he stroked his chin thoughtfully. In the past, the inheritance ritual was performed on clan members at the age of ten, and it required five Jonin to create a barrier to ensure it was safe. But now, only the two of them were left. Shiraishi Gisei was young, and his chakra was weak.
There was a risk, but unfortunately, he didn't have time to wait. His nephew's strange reaction to Danzo's name had given him a sense of crisis. It couldn't be helped.
"Ninja Art: Summoning Jutsu!"
With a puff of smoke, five butterflies appeared, dancing around Shiraishi Rongze.
"So it is Lord Gisei's time. I didn't expect him to have grown so big," one of the blue and white butterflies said, startling Shiraishi Gisei.
He knew summoned beasts could talk, but there was a big difference between knowing it and seeing it with his own eyes. And why did that butterfly's voice sound so familiar?
Before he could place it, a red butterfly spoke, and its voice was one he knew all too well—it was his mother's.
"Lord Gisei isn't ten years old yet. Isn't this a bit early?"
His mother had been dead for two years, her name carved on the Memorial Stone. What was going on? Why did this butterfly sound exactly like her? He looked at his uncle, hoping for an explanation.
Shiraishi Rongze ignored him. He took a small box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a wiggling larva inside. He jumped onto the altar. "Help me set up the barrier," he ordered the butterflies. "I will perform the inheritance."
The five butterflies began to fly in a circle around the altar, and a semi-transparent blue barrier gradually formed, enveloping it.
Shiraishi Rongze removed Shiraishi Gisei's shirt, then held the box and let the larva crawl out. As it neared the edge, he tilted the box toward his nephew's chest. "Endure it," he whispered.
At this point, if Shiraishi Gisei still didn't understand what the so-called "inheritance" was, he might as well have given up. It was obvious: they were going to let that thing enter his body, and he would have to raise it.
How was that any different from the Aburame clan?
A sharp pain suddenly shot through his chest as the larva began to bite him. He clenched his teeth, cold sweat breaking out all over his body. The larva chewed a bloody hole in his chest and slowly crawled inside.
"Secret Technique: Twin Life Jutsu!" Shiraishi Rongze suddenly formed a seal and slapped a palm onto his own chest.
An even more intense wave of pain washed over Shiraishi Gisei, and he couldn't hold back any longer.
"Ahhh! Shiraishi Rongze, I'll—"
His eyes rolled back into his head, and Shiraishi Gisei passed out from the pain.