Pain snapped him awake.
It speared through his forehead without warning as he shifted under the blankets – sharp, acute, and burning enough to drag a sound of protest out of him. Yohei tried to groan, or maybe mutter an instinctive 'ow', but his jaw snapped shut instead, and teeth met flesh.
He hissed through clenched teeth as the pain flared again, brighter and more immediate this time. Reflex took over. He rolled onto his back, one hand flying up to cover his mouth.
For a few painful, disoriented seconds, there was nothing but the ache in his head and the sting in his tongue.
Then the world slowly bled back in.
The low, constant hum of his electric fan filled the room, its uneven whirring coming from the nightstand beside the bed. Cool air brushed against his face. He blinked blearily, eyes struggling to focus, and the familiar shapes of his bedroom swam into place – the ceiling, the wallpaper on the walls, the dark blue curtains…
'…my room?'
The thought came sluggishly. He hadn't come up to bed, had he? The last thing he remembered was lying in his mother's lap, exhaustion pulling him under mid-thought.
He let his head sink back into the pillow, tension easing out of his shoulders.
'Mom must have carried me in.'
She must also have given him a bath while he was out of it, he realized, because instead of the dirty clothes and disgusting biological remains he'd been wearing when he fell asleep, he now felt clean and refreshed – and was dressed in a proper pair of pajamas.
With most of the confusion dispelled, he shifted slightly and flicked his tongue, making a face as the taste of iron bloomed in his mouth. Blood. Not much, but enough to leave a metallic tang clinging to his breath. He pressed his tongue carefully against the inside of his teeth –
– and froze.
Something wasn't quite right.
Tentatively, he took his hand away from his mouth. With cautious fingers, he touched one tooth, then another, until the change became impossible to ignore.
They had elongated. Not by much, but definitely enough to be noticeable – and they were sharper than they should have been, tapering into subtle points.
"Huh," he muttered with mild amusement, the sound half-lost against his tongue.
He pressed a fingertip against one experimentally.
The skin split with almost no resistance.
His eyes widened, and the sudden sensation made his Chakra Circuits – whose existence he hadn't yet gotten accustomed to – flare alive. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and deliberately relaxed, calming the flow of chakra through his new Chakra Network until it went dormant again.
Once it was done, he brought his finger up to his eyes, staring at the bead of blood welling on it, the color seeming to almost glow in the light of his room.
"This is going to take a while to get used to, won't it?" he asked himself sarcastically, half-chuckling when his voice came out a little strange. His tongue moved awkwardly inside his mouth, struggling to work around the new size of his teeth. "Just like wearing braces."
Except Yohei had never worn braces. Didn't even really know those were a thing.
Nicolas, however…
He closed his eyes in quiet contentment.
'It feels good to acknowledge his name.'
His mom was right, like – almost – always.
He couldn't let her know. She'd be insufferable.
Pushing his hands against the mattress, he moved to sit up, propping his pillows behind his back against the wall. Stretching his arms above his head, he drew in a deep breath and released it in a relieved sigh, his brain pleasantly flooded with the feel-good haze that came from finally getting some well-deserved rest.
A pulse of pain from his head dulled some of that good humor. However, it was curiosity rather than irritation that made him lift his hands and carefully trace his fingers along the source of it – a pair of lumps right where hair met forehead. The skin there was thin and irritated, and even the lightest brush of his fingertips left a trail of burning discomfort that made Yohei hiss softly.
He might have been worried about what they were if he didn't remember exactly what he'd been doing before he fell asleep.
'Well, can a demon even be a demon if they don't have horns?' he asked himself with a grin, before scowling faintly. 'Dunno why it has to hurt so much, though. The Horn Creation Technique sure doesn't.'
His ears twitched.
'Since when do my ears twitch?'
Outside the room, he heard footsteps approaching, and he relaxed when he recognized the weight and cadence as his mom's.
That was a neat trick he hadn't really noticed until relatively recently – even when he wasn't using the Thousand Sound Perception jutsu, he still had a baseline of heightened awareness. It wasn't anywhere near as sharp as when he deliberately stripped away the filters his brain placed on sound, but… it was fairer to say that he'd simply learned to pay attention, to listen better, to recognize patterns.
He turned his head as the door opened, but something about the sight made his brows knit together, the motion tugging lightly at his sensitive skin and making him squint.
The light from the hallway seemed to layer itself over the light inside his room, bathing things in a faint, white-yellowish tint.
'The fuck is that?' he wondered.
It was only when his mom stepped inside with a food tray and flicked the switch, flooding the room with the same oddly filtered colors, that understanding began to dawn.
He let out a low hum, looking down at his hands.
"Well, hello there, sleepyhead," his mom said as she approached, pulling his chair closer to the bed and sitting down. "Something wrong?"
Yohei turned the back of his hand toward the light, staring in quiet fascination as his palm, instead of falling into shadow, remained perfectly clear to his eyes. "I think I can see in the dark."
"Night vision?" Nanami asked, tilting her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I suppose that makes sense, considering the whole… theme of your transformation. That's useful."
He shook his head slowly. "No… I think rather than night vision, it's more like the dark just doesn't affect my sight. I don't need light to see."
Nanami blinked, frowning. "Well. That's problematic."
Yohei nodded just as slowly. "I guess not being able to tell when and where it's dark, and when it's bright, would be a pretty big hurdle when trying to be sneaky, wouldn't it?"
Nanami huffed. "To say the least. Can't you see any difference at all?"
"Things are a bit… brighter in the dark. Like they're all just producing their own colors. The light paints things with a tint. It's muted with electric light, but I think it'd be more noticeable with light from a fire, or something like that," Yohei replied.
"Well, that's something at least," Nanami said with a sigh, before giving him a small smile. "We'll have to train your awareness of it, you know that, right?"
Yohei groaned and let his head tip back. "One more thing for the list. Yay."
She giggled at that, and he found himself smiling at the sound. Turning toward her, he finally focused on the rather delicious smell coming from the tray she'd carried in, which was piled high with food.
"Is that for me?" he asked, inching closer.
She stopped him with a finger pressed lightly to his forehead, smirking teasingly. "Of course not. I brought the food so I could eat while watching you sleep."
Yohei rolled his eyes, then darted forward, playfully snapping his mouth near her finger. She quickly pulled her hand back, and he took the opportunity to snatch the tray from her lap and set it on his own, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before digging in.
She laughed at his theatrics, leaning back in the chair and propping her head up with one hand as she watched him eat.
Something caught her attention, though. A glimmer lit her eyes as she leaned forward, slipping her fingers into his curls and brushing them back behind his ear.
His ear flickered.
Yohei froze mid-bite.
"…What was that?"
Nanami smirked.
"What, this?" she asked, running the tip of her nail along the top of his ear. It flickered again, and Yohei tilted his head reflexively.
He jolted, turning sharply to stare at her with wide eyes as he clapped his hands over his ears. Slowly, he traced his fingers over them, his own touch provoking far less of a response than hers. They had changed shape – the upper rim tightened and pulled upward, losing its curve and straightening until it ended in a tapered, triangular tip.
'Oh no,' Yohei thought in dread. 'I became an elf.'
"Why that face?" Nanami asked, amused by the exaggerated expression of horror twisting his features.
He turned to her in dismay, spitting the words like poison. "I just became an elf."
She raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "Is that from…?" she trailed off.
Yohei nodded gravely.
"And what's the problem with being an elf?"
He tried to articulate an answer, making a few half-hearted gestures before his arms dropped limply to his sides.
"They're elves," he said simply.
Now it was Nanami's turn to roll her eyes.
'No, wait,' Yohei told himself. 'I also have horns – well, the beginnings of horns – and… quasi-fangs. That means I'm not an elf, I'm a…'
"Tiefling," he said aloud, eyes empty, voice hollow.
Nanami mouthed tiefling to herself, mirth dancing in her eyes as she struggled to hold back her laughter at the parade of emotions crossing his face.
With tears brimming in his eyes at the realization that he'd turned into the second most edgy race – surpassed only by the drow – Yohei went back to attacking his food, at least until something else caught his attention.
On his nightstand, his alarm clock showed the time as well past the afternoon. Blinking in surprise, Yohei turned to his right and tugged the curtain aside.
The sight that greeted him was definitely trippy.
Rather than being bathed in shadows, the whole village seemed to have come alive. He couldn't even compare it to how it looked in daylight. There were no shadows, and there was no glare of light to make him squint. Every "darkened" corner was perfectly visible to him, and the rainbow of colors present in the village's unique architecture was only more entrancing now, when it seemed as though everything carried its own light.
Above it all, he could see the sky as he never had before – an infinity of stars and nebulae, so vivid and vast it looked more beautiful than any painting he had ever seen. His mouth fell open, and he was only dimly aware of a tear sliding down his cheek.
"Wow…" he murmured in awe.
"How does it look?" Nanami asked quietly, having scooted closer so she could share the view.
"I can't – I don't… I don't have words to describe it, Mom," he whispered, still dazedly staring up at the sky. "I wish you could see this."
She hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Who knows? Maybe one day."
"I'll find a way," he promised, never taking his eyes off the stars.
Nanami chuckled softly. "I'm sure you will."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence.
Nanami leaned back in the chair and pulled one of his manuals from her pocket – the Practical Reading Comprehension Handbook – and began reading, while Yohei continued to watch the world outside, absently eating.
He only realized something was wrong when he lifted empty chopsticks to his mouth and bit straight through them, quickly spitting out the splintered wood.
Nanami glanced up from her book and laughed as he brushed his tongue with his fingers, grimacing.
Once Yohei was done, he blinked, suddenly remembering the thought he'd had before getting lost in the view.
"Right," he said, smacking his fist into his palm as he turned to his mom. "Why did I sleep so much? That never happened before."
Nanami hummed thoughtfully. "It might be a matter of degree. This transformation seems to have been the most intensive one yet, from what you told me, so perhaps it simply took more out of you than the others. There's also your previous fatigue to consider – you'd just finished a mission and didn't get any time to rest your body or mind afterward."
Yohei nodded, thoughtful. "I guess… but even so, it shouldn't have–"
He stopped short, his hand rising to his neck before he looked down, only then noticing that he wasn't wearing his prayer beads.
"Here," Nanami said, pulling them from her pocket and handing them to him before panic could set in.
"Oh, thank the Sage," Yohei said in relief, immediately slipping them back on. He then looked at his mom curiously as she shrugged.
"I know what they can do – that's why I took them off. I wanted to make sure their effect wasn't being prejudicial. You've been using them to train more, haven't you?" she asked in a knowing tone, prompting him to nod. "I thought so. From what I could tell, they don't have any negative side effects, so there's no problem using them like that in the short term. But while they do help you recover your body and mind's energy, they don't do much to actually heal injuries or deal with mounting stress. So make sure you give yourself proper rest at least once a week, okay?"
Yohei pressed his lips together, silently calculating how many training hours he'd lose because of that. The seriousness in his mother's eyes made him relent.
He let out a sigh. "Okay."
Nanami smiled, patting his head and making him close his eyes as she scratched through his hair. "Thank you, sweetie."
Yohei snorted in amusement. "You're thanking me for agreeing to do something that's good for me?"
"No," she corrected gently. "I'm thanking you for easing my worries." She paused, then added, "Speaking of being worried, your team visited while you were sleeping."
Yohei frowned, opening his eyes. "We didn't have anything planned for today, though. Hayama-sensei told us to take the weekend off."
"Idiot," she said fondly, giving his head a light chop. "They came to check up on you. They didn't even come together, so that was all of them individually, not something coordinated."
Yohei smiled without meaning to, then frowned again. "Did they see…?"
Nanami nodded easily. "Of course. That was the intention, after all." Then she grinned. "Hayama-san was the first one here, early in the morning. Do you know what he said when he saw you?"
Yohei looked at her expectantly. Her smile widened.
"He asked if we wanted his help keeping it a secret, and promised he wouldn't report anything unless you asked him to."
Yohei huffed a laugh. "Yeah, Hayama-sensei is like that. Even back then…" He trailed off, smiling to himself before shaking his head. "We're not keeping this under wraps, though, are we?"
"Nope," Nanami said, taking the food tray from his lap and setting it on the table. "What we want is for you to be able to be more open about your situation. There's no reason to hide your change when that's the key to our whole game plan."
Yohei nodded. "So… what now?"
"Well," Nanami said, sighing as she crossed her legs, "you could just go on as if nothing happened. Don't try to hide anything – just acknowledge the 'awakening' of your Kekkei Genkai. That alone should be enough. But I think it would be more advantageous for you to register yourself as the founder of a new clan."
"Wait – what?" he asked, a little stupefied. "I can just… do that?"
Nanami nodded. "It's the prerogative of any shinobi of Konoha who develops a Bloodline Limit."
She noticed the troubled look in his eyes and tilted her head. "You're worried about Ren-kun, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Yohei admitted, grimacing. "I mean, his family's been trying to become a clan for generations now. It's his whole dream for the future. It doesn't feel right that I can just skip all the work he's putting into it because I got lucky."
"Sorry to say, dear, but if you're looking for fairness in this world, you're going to be sorely disappointed," Nanami said with amused bluntness, making him snort. "That said, I don't think you need to worry about it."
"Really?" Yohei asked, unconvinced.
"Really," Nanami confirmed with a grin. "Did you know Ren-kun has a cousin who's just a year older than him? He was very eager to tell me all about her – and even left me some photographs. Want to see?"
Yohei slapped a hand over his face, struggling to keep the relieved smile from breaking free. "He's an idiot."
Nanami laughed.
"What about Souma?" Yohei asked, noticeably more relaxed when it came to his other teammate. "How did he react?"
"He had stars in his eyes the whole time," Nanami said, confirming his suspicions. "He stayed by your side for a few hours, but he was practically vibrating, eager to go train. I'm fairly certain you should expect to be challenged to a fight the moment you see each other again."
"I figured," Yohei said with a snort. "Back to the clan stuff, though – what are the benefits?"
"Well, to start with, the biggest one is that you're granted a right to secrecy protected by law. That means people generally can't – or at least shouldn't – ask questions about, or try to investigate, your techniques and related matters."
"Nice," Yohei said with a nod. "Is that a consequence of the old clans not wanting anyone poking their noses into their business, with the law having to apply broadly to new ones too, or is it something independent?"
"Definitely the first," Nanami said. "Konoha never would have been founded if the Uchiha and the Senju hadn't promised – and written it into the village's very foundations – that the secrets of any clan would be protected and would belong solely to them."
Yohei nodded in understanding.
"Beyond that, there are other things. The village provides a monetary fund – basically an allowance – that scales with the number of descendants you have. You're also allowed certain privileges civilians and regular shinobi aren't, like purchasing land inside and outside Konoha's walls, rather than what's effectively long-term leasing. You also have the right to a seat on the council alongside the Hokage and the other clan heads, though that doesn't apply to you yet, since another prerequisite is being a jōnin. And, of course, you're granted a measure of self-governance in matters concerning your own clan, which is why the Hyūga are even allowed to essentially enslave their own members, despite slavery being outlawed both in the village and in the wider country."
"I'd be willing to give that up if it meant the Hyūga got their shit together," Yohei said dryly.
"You and me both," Nanami murmured as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I have a friend in the hospital from the branch house. She never says much about her clan, but it's easy to see the tension in her shoulders whenever they're even mentioned."
Yohei didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, lips pressed together.
'To think I was so pissed at the slavers outside the village while forgetting about the ones living inside those walls…' Yohei thought with a frown. 'What the hell am I even going to do about the Hyūga?'
He was pulled from his thoughts when his mother gently brushed the hair back from his forehead, her eyes narrowing as she examined the small lumps where his horns would eventually grow.
She ran through a series of hand signs, and her hand was soon enveloped in a sphere of blue chakra. She brought it close to his skin, and a cool wave of relief spread through him, easing a low, constant burning pain he hadn't even realized was there until it faded.
"How are you feeling, Yo-kun?" Nanami asked quietly as Yohei groaned in relief.
He hummed, eyes closing as he considered the question. How was he feeling?
"…Powerful."
"Is that so?"
"Mhm," Yohei confirmed. "It's like the first time I used Total Concentration Breathing all over again. I can feel my chakra better than ever before, and my reserves are at least twice what they used to be – and that's with them not even being full yet."
"The Circuits are still filling up?" Nanami asked, curious.
"They are," Yohei said with a grin, "but that's not even what I'm talking about."
Nanami paused. "…I think you're at the point where you can make use of Shadow Clones, then."
Yohei's eyes widened as he turned to look at her. "Really!?"
Nanami chuckled. "Really. But don't get too excited. That method you told me about – using clones to speed up training – that's not something a normal person can do. Shadow Clones are primarily meant for infiltration and information gathering, with combat as a secondary use. Try to train ninjutsu through them and you'll very quickly drain yourself of chakra, with nothing to show for it. And even if chakra weren't an issue, the mental load of having dozens and dozens of memories shoved back into your head…" She shook her head. "Most people would become catatonic from something like that."
"I can still use them to study," Yohei said, no less eager than before.
Nanami smiled, amused. "That's true. It won't be long, then, until you're ready to start learning iryoninjutsu. And I want you to begin that as soon as possible."
Yohei blinked. "I mean, sure? Healing magic is the best magic, and I'm really eager to learn it too – but why the rush?"
"Because of Lady Tsunade," Nanami said simply, then immediately barreled past the topic before Yohei could press her on it. "Now, what about your body? That was supposed to get a significant increase as well, wasn't it?"
Knowing that if his mom didn't want to talk about something it was either because she had a very good reason or because she hadn't yet prepared herself for the conversation, Yohei let the matter rest.
Answering her question, though, he smirked and stood up from the bed, immediately noticing the familiar sensation of "weightlessness" he'd felt while training his Warframe: Oni. Leaning forward, he let himself "fall," catching his weight in a one-handed handstand.
"Good balance," Nanami praised.
Still smirking, Yohei flexed his fingers, shifting his weight so that he was holding himself up with them instead of his whole hand. Nanami clapped, giving a theatrical, "Oh~!"
On a whim, Yohei pushed it further. Five fingers became four as he curled his thumb. Then two, balancing on only his index and middle fingers. Then only one.
"You're not using any chakra?" his mom asked, her voice equal parts clinical and amused.
"Nope!" Yohei said easily. He lowered himself until he was just above the ground, then fully extended his arm in a sharp burst, using the momentum to spring back to his feet.
Unfortunately, the floor didn't quite agree with that much force applied in a single point. Though the maneuver succeeded, it left a small crater in the wooden planks beneath him.
"…Shit," he muttered, embarrassed, while Nanami laughed.
"So," she said once she recovered, "we know how you adapted to darkness, and we've seen the increase in your body and chakra – though we'll need to examine those more thoroughly later. That only leaves one thing, right?"
"Right," Yohei agreed. "Dark Release."
Nanami nodded, smiling, and settled in to watch him.
…
Yohei stared back at her flatly. "I have no fucking idea how to do it."
Nanami giggled. "So you don't just know everything immediately, huh?"
Yohei shrugged. "Even the things I 'know' are mostly my own observations – gut feelings and bias more than anything else. Nothing really comes with a mental tutorial or instruction manual."
Nanami hummed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a square sheet of paper about the size of her palm, which she offered to Yohei.
'Oh. Chakra paper.'
"I've never heard of Dark Release, but since it's a Nature Transformation-type Bloodline Limit, the litmus test should at least give us some clues," Nanami said.
Yohei nodded, taking the paper and eagerly flowing chakra into it.
…It went soggy.
Yohei stared at it, lips pressed into a thin line.
Nanami chuckled at his expression, taking the paper from his hand and examining it more closely. "Well, that's no different from the last time you tried this, so it seems your chakra natures are still Water and – presumably – Yang."
"I know there are Nature Releases that are just one of the five taken to a higher level instead of being mixed with another," Yohei said dryly, "but somehow I really doubt Dark Release is just an advanced form of Water."
"For some reason, I get the feeling you're right," Nanami replied teasingly. "I suppose the remaining options are that it's a form of Yin and/or Yang Release, or that it exists completely outside the framework of the five base natures. Just try concentrating while kneading chakra and see if anything different happens."
Yohei nodded thoughtfully, sitting down on his bed and crossing his legs as he formed the Seal of Confrontation.
As his chakra began to stir, he focused inward, letting the world outside fade away as his breathing evened out.
'Just see if something happens, huh?' Yohei repeated his mom's advice to himself with a faint smile. 'I guess that makes sense. I had to practice a lot to learn how to create Water chakra; and no matter how much better I get at it, kneading Yang chakra is always a struggle of stuffing too much Physical Energy into too little Spiritual Energy. But Bloodline Limits are supposed to be as instinctual as breathing, so…'
He kept molding chakra, 'watching' the process closely, trying to see if it shifted on its own in any way.
Nothing happened.
It continued being produced as usual – the only difference being that part of it was being siphoned into his Chakra Circuits instead of simply pooling into his Network.
As he focused on that, however, he noticed something else.
Tenketsu were small – no larger than the tip of a needle. So small, in fact, that even the Sharingan, which could 'predict the future' by observing minute shifts in posture and musculature, couldn't see them.
Unless someone possessed godlike chakra control and awareness, it was impossible to perceive individual tenketsu. At best, one could sense clusters of them, or infer their locations by following the paths chakra took through the body.
The sole exception were the Eight Gates, which were far larger than normal tenketsu and could be learned and sensed through training.
And now, as Yohei truly paid attention to his Network, he realized that he had a new pair of tenketsu – ones as large as the Gates, if not larger – and they were located in his head.
Or, more accurately, on his horns.
Curious, and fairly certain this had to be related to his Demon Bloodline at the very least, Yohei guided a measure of chakra toward those unfamiliar tenketsu and prodded them.
Hunger.
He was seized by hunger immediately.
A hunger unlike anything he had ever experienced – deeper than any need for sustenance he had ever known.
It was like a bottomless, gnawing void had opened inside his body – one that could never be filled or sated – and for a moment his mind was consumed by nothing but the need to consume.
"Yohei?"
He opened his eyes and saw his mom's face hovering over him, creased with worry. Somehow, just seeing her made the hunger lose its absolute, overwhelming urgency.
"You're glowing," she told him, relaxing as she saw his expression soften, the pain – and that other, stranger thing that had twisted his features before – fading away.
Yohei blinked, then tilted his head, managing a slightly strained smile. "You too."
Nanami raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her arm, frowning when she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Yohei chuckled weakly. "It's… your chakra. I think I can see it."
"How well?" Nanami asked, curiosity immediately overtaking her concern.
Yohei lifted a hand, turning it slowly from side to side as if comparing angles. "Not that well. It's more like a hazy glow than anything like what the Sharingan or the Byakugan can see."
Nanami hummed thoughtfully. "Still useful. That's another thing to look into."
Yohei nodded, then hesitated. "What about me?"
Nanami smiled and reached for the mirror on his nightstand, holding it up in front of him.
Reflected back at him, his eyes were glowing with a soft cyan light – and so were the small bumps on his head that would one day become horns.
"Cool," he said, grinning.
Then his gaze shifted, drawn to the light radiating from his mother's body, and the unnatural hunger surged back to the forefront of his awareness – a sharp, hollow ache, like a stomach growl amplified a hundredfold, resonating deep within him.
"Oh," he said slowly, realization dawning. "I think I'm supposed to eat chakra?"
Nanami looked at him in surprise, but after a moment of thought she lifted her hand, chakra gathering in her palm until it became visible to the naked eye.
Another pang of hunger hit Yohei, sharper than before. Hesitantly, he brought his own hand closer to hers – and when the distance closed enough, he felt something click.
Nanami gasped as she felt her chakra being pulled from her, immediately cutting off the flow.
They both watched as the stolen chakra was drawn up into Yohei's hand, coalescing into a pale-blue, flame-like sphere.
Without hesitation, Yohei brought it to his mouth and swallowed it.
It tasted like lightning – and life. A sharp, spicy tang that made his tongue tingle. And it tasted like love, worry, fascination, and a thousand other feelings and impressions, all of them gone far too quickly as the chakra rushed toward the emptiness of the tenketsu in his horns and vanished within.
The hunger wasn't sated in the slightest.
Still, a new instinct surfaced within him, and without stopping to think, he sent his own chakra after it. He didn't know what he expected to happen, but he felt it soon enough.
His mother's chakra and his own began to knead together, merging and refining, until within seconds he was left with something new – something denser and more powerful than anything he had ever felt before.
At the barest prompting, that new chakra surged forward – down through his head and neck, into his shoulder and arm. Where it passed, it felt like liquid fire racing through his veins. And the comparison proved more than apt, because what erupted from his hand was a conflagration of azure flames.
The name came to him like a memory he'd somehow always had, surfacing fully formed and unquestioned.
"Dark Release: Demon Fire."
The flames didn't last long. Within seconds – before Yohei could even think of shaping or directing them – they vanished, having completely exhausted their fuel.
"Wait, that's it?" he asked incredulously.
Nanami – who had been staring wide-eyed at the flames – promptly chopped him on the head.
"We're not testing this inside the house again!"
Yohei just chuckled.
-~=~-
After that, his mom decided they were done with tests for the night, and they spent the remaining hours with her helping him write up his report from the C-Rank mission, finishing just before it got late enough for her to head to bed.
And that was when Yohei discovered another side effect of his new bloodline.
Insomnia.
Or… something like it, at least.
The thing was, throughout the entire night he felt brimming with energy, like his body was begging for activity. The result was him tossing and turning in bed for hours on end, until he finally – well, he didn't so much sleep as he took a nap.
When he woke up, instead of feeling refreshed, he felt more lethargic than he had during the night. That wasn't the same as being tired or weak – he was still keenly aware that he felt much stronger than he had two days ago – but there was also a constant sense that this wasn't his peak. Like his body was running below optimal conditions.
It got worse the moment he stepped outside and was bathed in the light of the early morning sun. For a brief instant, all he wanted to do was turn around, go back inside, and curl up beneath his covers.
Knowing what was causing it was enough to push through the sensation, though. Yohei barreled past the impression of weakness and marched toward the Academy, waving good morning to his neighbors along the way. Most of them stared openly at his new features, curiosity plain on their faces.
Once he took to the rooftops, it didn't take long for him to reach his destination. With practiced steps, he headed toward the administrative wing of the building – but instead of turning toward the familiar direction of the Mission Desk, he made his way to a room he'd never been to before.
Inside, three thoroughly bored-looking ninja were poring over thick scrolls, making notes and occasionally sharing comments with one another.
It took them a while to notice Yohei standing there at all. When they finally did, it was like a jolt ran through the room. And when the one in the middle – a girl with short black hair and green eyes – asked what his purpose was, only for him to answer that he wanted to fill out the registration papers for a new clan…
They nearly tripped over themselves trying to decide who would take the job.
Yohei had the distinct feeling that he was the most interesting thing that had happened to them in months.
The registration process itself was easy, if time-consuming, but he really couldn't complain. For him, it took a little over an hour. For others, it took an entire lifetime – plus the lifetimes of their descendants.
It was unfair.
But it also made sense.
Clans were, at their core, treasure keepers, the treasures being their Secret Techniques or Bloodline Limits – tools unique to them, and of strategic, political, and cultural importance to the village. The benefits granted to clans were both incentives to keep them appeased and loyal, and measures to protect them and ensure their strength didn't wane.
Because of that, being recognized as a clan wasn't really a measure of merit for a family of ninja.
It was simply an acknowledgment that they were the holders of one such "treasure."
This distinction is easy to make when it comes to Bloodline Limits. They are identifiable mutations in an individual's physiology, granting abnormal physical traits or unique chakra characteristics.
But it isn't quite the same when it comes to Secret Techniques, is it?
At first glance, there's nothing inherently different between a clan's Secret Technique and a jutsu any regular ninja could learn. They follow the same principles, rely on the same systems, and don't require any biological or spiritual deviation to be used.
And yet, something is clearly different.
Two words are the key to understanding it: Refinement and Affinity.
A Secret Technique is born when a particularly talented individual – or group of individuals – creates a powerful jutsu, or a collection of jutsu, that share a common theme and underlying mechanics. They then devote their entire lives to practicing and improving it.
When they have children, they teach them those techniques. Those children, in turn, dedicate their own lives to mastering, developing, and refining them, passing the results on to their own offspring. And so it continues, again and again.
Over generations, new variations are created. The techniques are made more efficient. Better training methods are discovered. Tools, environments, and even substances that enhance performance are identified and incorporated.
This process is Refinement.
There is a trade-off, however. With each passing generation, the Secret Technique grows increasingly complex – harder to learn, harder to use – until, by all logic, it should take an individual their entire lifetime to master it.
That's where Affinity comes in.
The Ninja Arts – and indeed, any sustained use of chakra – leave traces within the body of an individual.
At first, these traces are subtle and barely noticeable. Over time, however, they accumulate to the point where the corpse of an experienced shinobi can be examined to determine not only which techniques they used in life, but also insights into their mechanics, their training methods, and even what substances they habitually consumed.
This is why it is of paramount importance that the body of a fallen shinobi be either recovered or destroyed – so it cannot be seized by enemies and analyzed for the village's secrets.
But this phenomenon isn't purely negative. Clans, in particular, make deliberate use of its positive aspects.
Those traces left behind by chakra do not act solely on a phenotypical level, but on a genotypical one as well. In other words, a portion of them is passed down to future generations.
Normally, this doesn't amount to much. The traces are usually too small and too diffuse to have any noticeable effect on a child.
But what happens when an individual spends their entire life practicing only a single technique?
The diffusion is far weaker.
And what if both parents have done the same?
The effect on the child becomes significantly stronger.
Repeat this process over multiple generations, and the result is that descendants are born increasingly predisposed to those Secret Techniques. They learn them faster, use them more effectively, and intuitively grasp concepts that would take outsiders years to understand – counterbalancing the growing complexity born from Refinement.
In this way, a family can artificially recreate the exclusivity of a Bloodline Limit.
The problem is… that kind of thing is hard to measure. It isn't an exact science, so you can't quantify it purely by time. Technically, you could hand a technique's scrolls to an outsider and see whether they can learn it – but doing so goes directly against the entire concept of a Secret Technique in the first place.
Because of that, a set of requirements exists that an aspiring clan must meet in order to be formally recognized. A minimum number of generations since the clan's founding. A minimal number of active members. A point system based on completed missions, meant to measure their contributions to the village. And, of course, a demonstration of power – generally accepted to mean that the family must have produced at least one elite jōnin, proving the effectiveness of their techniques.
It was a lot of work.
Which, once again, Yohei was very glad he didn't have to go through.
Instead, he was handed three stacks of forms to fill out.
The first dealt with personal information – his name, date and place of birth, ninja registration number, rank, team assignment, elemental affinities, specialties, and so on.
The second concerned the clan he intended to found. First, it asked for the clan's name, which he decided to keep as Kuroyama. Then it requested a sketch of its kamon, the clan crest – something he answered by showing the markings on his hand. After that came a question on whether he was claiming sole founding membership, or if others were to be included.
Funnily enough, since his mother didn't possess the Bloodline Limit, she could only be listed as an adopted member of the clan. Legally speaking, Yohei would be recognized as the Clan Head – and, technically, as her direct superior.
They both found the notion hilarious. Nanami informed him with a smile that she would tan his hide if he ever forgot who his elders were.
The third stack was the most comprehensive – and by far the thickest. It concerned the details of his Bloodline Limit.
It began, once again, with the name, which he kept as Kuroyama no Akuma – Demon of the Dark Mountain. This earned him a dry look, until the clerk reviewing the paperwork took a second look at his face and decided it was fair enough.
Next came the classification. He was asked to categorize it as one or more of the following: Elemental Fusion; Dōjutsu; Physical Mutation; Chakra-Based Trait; or Other – with multiple options allowed. For every category selected, an entire sheet was provided, where he was required to go into some detail to justify his choices.
There, he described most of the observations he had made so far regarding the Demon of the Dark Mountain Bloodline, alongside the Forever Fangs, and included a minor note suggesting that his Yang affinity might be related to it. He also mentioned that the physical transformations he was undergoing might not yet be complete.
Other aspects – like the Shinsōgan, the Ever-Blooming Essence, the Reptilian Affinity, and the altered Chakra Circuits – were conspicuously absent. Explaining how he already knew about them would be a pain in the ass, and there was no need to draw even more attention than the emergence of a brand-new Bloodline Limit already guaranteed.
After that came the easier questions.
When did it first manifest?
Were there any early signs?
What conditions had triggered it?
Followed by some rather uncomfortable questions – such as whether the applicant had produced any offspring, whether the Bloodline had manifested in any of them, how
inheritable it seemed to be, and whether there were any conditions attached to its inheritance.
And then came the truly uncomfortable ones.
What was the chakra consumption rate of the abilities granted by the Bloodline?
What physical and mental side effects had been noted so far?
What degree of innate control was present?
Were there any inherent weaknesses?
He was left alone to answer those, but the ninja assisting him with the paperwork explained that he wasn't expected to go into detail – especially not about information that could be used against him, or things he had no way of knowing, such as how inheritable his Bloodline truly was.
At most, he was to give a general overview, enough for the Hokage, who was the only one who'd have access to those documents, to analyze and for basic countermeasures to be planned – if his Bloodline were ever stolen from the Village by Konoha's enemies.
And just as the man said, once Yohei signaled that he was finished, he was handed an envelope to seal the papers inside, keeping them out of view. They never left his reach during the process.
After that, he was required to give a demonstration of his Kekkei Kengai, which was done quickly and satisfactorily. Then, all that remained was for him to sign and swear a vow while being recorded.
"I, Kuroyama Yohei, acknowledge my role as the founding member of the Kuroyama Clan, and swear by my blood, loyalty to Konohagakure no Sato and the Land of Fire. I, and my successors after me, will endeavor to be the shield that guards it against its enemies, and the blade that cuts them down," Yohei said solemnly.
"And… we're done!" Shizumo announced as he turned off the camera, removed the tape, and placed it inside the box along with the rest of the documents Yohei had provided.
Yohei stretched his arms over his head and yawned, cracking his neck. "What now?" he asked.
"Now I'll take all of this to the Hokage so he can examine it, and soon enough you'll receive an answer on whether your application has been accepted or not – though…" He glanced at Yohei's ears and horns and grinned. "I don't think you need to worry about that."
"Indeed," came an amused elderly voice from behind them.
They both jumped and turned around, bowing respectfully.
"Hokage-sama!"
Hiruzen chuckled softly. "Hello there. Forgive the fright, but I heard some gossip that our Village might be gaining a new Bloodline and found myself overtaken by curiosity."
Pipe in his mouth, the man walked over to the box. After leafing through the papers, he retrieved a stamp from within his sleeve and pressed it down firmly.
He turned back, eyes crinkling as he looked at a stunned Yohei. "Well, let me be the first to congratulate you on your new position, Kuroyama-dono," the elderly man said with the slightest nod of his head.
Yohei's shock – already mixed with his surprise at the Chaos Scroll becoming active once more – only deepened when Shizumo beside him bowed as well, lower this time, though with a teasing smile.
"Congratulations, Kuroyama-dono."
Yohei let out a distressed sound. "Ah – thanks! Uh, Hokage-sama, please don't bow! There's no need to be so formal either!"
"Ah, is that so?" Hiruzen said with a chuckle. "In that case, could we have a word, Yohei-kun?"
Caught off guard, Yohei blinked, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do or say in a situation like this. Refusing would, of course, look suspicious – and he didn't really have a reason to do so anyway. Not wanting to hesitate for too long, he ended up blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
"Sure! Can I pick the place?"
This time, it was Hiruzen's turn to be surprised.
-~=~-
"Do you ever come here, Hokage-sama?" Yohei asked as they both took a seat.
Hiruzen hummed, a note of nostalgia entering his gaze as he looked around. He touched a finger to his pipe, lit it, and took a long drag before releasing a cloud of smoke that the wind quickly scattered. "Not these days, no. But I used to come here all the time when I was your age. Lord Second used to call me 'Saru,' because I was always climbing and jumping around like a monkey."
"Wasn't it because of your Clan? Or your name?" Yohei asked, curious.
"That may also have been it!" Hiruzen replied with a chuckle.
They were seated atop the carved head of Hashirama Senju, overlooking Konoha as it basked in the golden light of the morning.
Hiruzen rested a hand against the stone beneath them. "What about you, Yohei-kun? Do you often come here?"
Yohei nodded easily. "Yeah. At first, I thought it would help me with training…"
"Did it?"
"Not really," Yohei admitted, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. "I wanted to go somewhere high to train my breathing, but this place isn't actually high enough. Even so…"
He turned his gaze back toward the Village.
In the sunlight, he couldn't say it was as breathtaking a sight as it had been at night. Still, seeing everything painted in gold, with hardly a shadow in sight…
That was beautiful too.
"…the view made me keep coming back."
Hiruzen chuckled softly. "I can certainly understand that."
Yohei turned back to him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry for the detour, Hokage-sama – and thank you for humoring me. What did you want to talk about?"
Hiruzen waved the apology away. "Don't worry, don't worry. I must say, this has been quite a pleasant morning." He smiled, puffing out another trail of smoke. "As for what I wanted to ask you… well, I've seen and studied many things throughout my life as a shinobi. They didn't call me The Professor for nothing, you know?"
He laughed lightly before continuing. "Bloodline Limits are, of course, included in that. They are as varied as the people who possess them. Some require specific triggers, while others do not. Some are inherited by every family member, while others skip entire generations. Some affect only chakra, while others bring changes to the body." He gestured toward Yohei, who grinned in response, revealing his sharp teeth – earning another chuckle. "Of them all, something I've noticed is that those requiring emotional triggers often leave marks on an individual's psyche, while those that affect the body tend to alter the mentality of their users. Since you've shown signs of both, I became concerned."
Hiruzen looked at him steadily. "I wanted to make sure you were well, Yohei-kun. But this conversation has already eased my worries."
Yohei made a small sound of surprise. "Oh! Uh – thank you for your concern, Hokage-sama."
Hiruzen shook his head. "To be Hokage means to see the whole village as your children, and it is only natural to worry about your family."
Yohei nodded in understanding – then paused.
Hiruzen turned to him. "Is there something you would like to ask me, Yohei-kun?"
"…There is," Yohei said after a moment of hesitation. Then he looked at the man squarely. "Sir, why did you decide to grant leniency to Shizuka?"
Hiruzen nodded, as if he had been expecting the question. "Allow me to answer your question with one of my own, Yohei-kun. If you were in my place, what would you have done? Shizuka Hibiki has been quite thoroughly investigated, and he has told us everything about his past in great detail. A broken child, raised by a sick man, in a sick place, who never even had the chance to learn what was right or wrong – having all the worst parts of his nature incentivized while living his entire life under the threat of slavery."
"That's horrible," Yohei said firmly. "And no child should ever be raised that way. But while it explains his behavior, it doesn't justify it. It doesn't lessen the pain he inflicted on others, and it doesn't excuse the hundreds of innocents he was willing to let die just to make things easier for himself."
"It doesn't," Hiruzen agreed easily. "Should I order him to be executed, then?"
'Yes.' Yohei thought immediately. 'That would be for the best.'
He was about to say exactly that when his mind flashed to the memory of his last meeting with Shizuka – the boy behind bars, the false cheer on his face, the emptiness in his eyes, his hand trembling with fear as Yohei had stood there, ready to kill him.
Yohei clicked his tongue, jaw tightening as he frowned.
He took a breath, then let it out slowly before speaking. "...Maybe not. But that doesn't mean he should go unpunished."
Hiruzen hummed. "Should he be sent to Hōzuki Castle, then? Or should we keep him in Konoha's prison until he is old enough that his death won't leave a bad taste in the mouth?"
Yohei pressed his lips together.
Hiruzen smiled faintly. "If the goal is only to delay his death because of his age, then he may as well die now, no? Otherwise, letting him live implies that you see some worth in his life – worth beyond what his blood grants. But how can that worth ever be realized if he is never given the opportunity to do something worthy?"
"But – just giving him freedom?" Yohei asked, frustration seeping into his voice. "Letting him go on as if nothing he did mattered? Why not put him in a mental institution? Make sure he can never hurt anyone again?"
"A mental institution?" Hiruzen repeated, raising an eyebrow.
'Those don't exist here?' Yohei asked himself before mentally slapping himself. 'Of course they fucking don't. This is ninja land, where the only therapy you'll ever get is being spanked by a blonde kid.'
"Like a hospital for the mind," Yohei said wearily. "To help heal and deal with people with psychological issues."
Hiruzen let out a surprised laugh – warm, genuinely amused. "A hospital for the mind? My… the new generations truly do come up with the most marvelous ideas. I'm sorry to say that I have never heard of such a place." He paused, then shook his head lightly. "Perhaps, in the future, you will be the one to create such an institution. But for now, the best I can do is ensure that Shizuka Hibiki will have weekly appointments with a Yamanaka minder so that his loyalty and behavior stays in check, that he will always remain under surveillance, and that he will never be allowed to leave the Village. And, of course, that it is made very clear to him that this is his last chance. If he ever tries to harm the people of Konoha…" His eyes hardened just a little. "…then it will be the last thing he ever does."
Yohei looked quietly down at the Village, unsure whether that was a good solution or not – if there even was a good solution to a problem like this in the first place. In the end…
"I guess this is the best we can get," he said with a sigh.
"Sometimes we must make do with good enough," Hiruzen replied gently, "until we have the wisdom, the power, and – more importantly – the courage to make a better option."
Yohei let out a weak chuckle. "I think I'm lacking all three, to be honest."
"Whyever would you say so?" Hiruzen asked calmly.
Yohei took a moment, eyes dropping to his own hand.
"This whole… change. It's not something new," he said slowly. "It's been happening for some time now. I'm not sure for how long, but at least since my last days in the Academy. The thing is, I'd been ignoring it. But after accepting the headband… there's a promise involved in that act. A vow to uphold the Will of Fire. To protect the Village. To put everything you have into the defense and betterment of Konoha. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and all that."
"I think I'll be stealing that," Hiruzen said with a hint of humor.
Yohei huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, sure…"
He clenched his fingers, and with a familiar flex of will his chakra began to stir, kneading itself into Yang Release and suffusing his muscles as they subtly grew under his eyes.
"When I became a ninja, I resolved that I wouldn't run away from it," he continued. "But what ended up happening is that the more I grew… the more I changed… the more I started to hide."
"Why?" Hiruzen asked, his tone gentle and unpressing.
"Do you know the difference between a Good Death and a Happy Death?" Yohei asked instead.
Hiruzen shook his head.
Yohei extended one hand. "A Good Death is what someone gets when they die fighting for something bigger than themselves. When they die seeking righteousness. When they die protecting their loved ones, or for a cause. It's the kind of death a person can accept with a smile on their face and contentment in their heart – because even if they have regrets, they can still feel fulfilled as they pass on to the Pure Land."
Then he extended the other hand. "A Happy Death, though… that's something special. That's when you die old, after doing everything you ever wanted to do. On a bed, surrounded by your family and the people you love. Seeing your children, your grandchildren, maybe even your great-grandchildren."
He let his hands fall, gaze distant.
"I'm sure at least a few shinobi in history have managed to have Happy Deaths," Yohei said quietly. "But of those… has there ever been a prodigy among them?"
Hiruzen stayed quiet.
Yohei let out a sigh. "Honestly, I'd rather just live forever if it's all the same, but everything ends sooner or later, and I'd really much rather have a Happy Death than not. But my sensei told me something… he reminded me that hiding away my talents could end up not only in my death, making the whole point moot, but also in the death of my precious people. And I realized then that if that ever happened, I'd never be able to die happily. The weight of that guilt, that regret… it would weigh me down forever. So I decided to be truthful…" He scoffed. "Or that's what I thought. In truth, I was just showing what I unconsciously decided was 'enough' to protect myself and my friends."
Yohei scowled. "Which turned out not to be enough at all. Because, apparently, I'm the kind of idiot who isn't satisfied protecting just those who are close. I want to be able to fight off any evil I see in front of me, to save everyone in my sight. I couldn't do that back in the Village, and I hated myself for that. And I hated my weakness. But it wasn't until Shizuka pointed out how similar we are that I started hating my cowardice as well and decided to just… let go."
He released Extreme Muscle Assault, shaking his hand as he watched his arm diminish back to its normal size. He turned to Hiruzen. "I think the reason my bloodline isn't messing with my head is that I didn't change into something else. I just stopped hiding who I am."
Hiruzen hummed to himself, lowering his pipe. He took out his hat, turning it slowly in his hands as he looked at the symbol of 'Fire' written on the front.
"Fearlessness," he said, "is the opposite of bravery. Fear is a response to the possibility of loss, and it is directly proportional to the value you attribute to the thing that is being threatened. A person who has no fear is a person who doesn't value anything, and in my experience, those people are the ones who were so afraid of loss that they forced themselves to stop caring. I pity such people… and I'm disgusted by them."
Hiruzen looked at him. "Despite your fears and your desires, you have continuously chosen to take the hardest path available to you. You could have refused to become a ninja, but you didn't. You could have chosen not to care about your teammates, but you didn't. You could have chosen to be unaffected by the plight of those outside those walls, but you didn't. Every new individual you meet and choose to care about becomes a new bond, a new chain of responsibility around your neck, pulling you away from the idealized freedom of your ideal death. And yet you keep accepting them nonetheless. I don't believe those are the actions of a coward."
Yohei didn't know what to say in response to that, so he only smiled thankfully before averting his misty eyes toward the village, swallowing the knot in his throat and coughing softly.
Hiruzen chuckled. "You know, Yohei-kun… for the longest time, I feel like I've been running after a Good Death. But these days…" His voice softened. "I think I would have enjoyed a Happy Death as well."
Surprised by the grief in his voice, Yohei turned to look at him. For a moment, he didn't see the Hokage – God of Shinobi and living monument of the Village, the man who had survived to be an elder in a profession where even the best die young. All he could see was a tired old man who had accumulated too much pain and too many regrets over the years.
"What are you talking about, Hokage-sama – no." He corrected himself as he stood up. "What are you talking about, Old Man? You have a son and a grandson, and if the gossip is to be believed, soon enough you might have a daughter-in-law and maybe another grandchild on the way. And you said you see the whole Village as your children, right? Look at yourself!" Yohei said, pointing a finger at him. "If that's the case, then you're the Village's grandpa! It would be shameful for every one of us, as your children, if we made you fight in our place. Just take it easy and enjoy your life! Leave the battles to the young, or we'll end up getting lazy! Soon enough, there'll come someone who can take that hat from your head!"
Hiruzen looked at him in shock, eyes wide open. Yohei's new senses caught a faint noise on the stone nearby, but his attention was pulled away as the Hokage began to chuckle, the sound growing until it turned into loud, full-bellied laughter.
"Yes, yes, I suppose you are right. It's about time to let the new generation take care of things…" He shook his head with a smile, then looked at Yohei and did something that sent him straight back into panic again, grinning as he bowed his head. "In that case, I'll be in your care, Yohei-kun."
As he hurriedly tried to get the old man to raise his head, Yohei almost slipped when he felt the Chaos Scroll come alive once more.