(AN: Hello gonna release 3 chapters its currently 12:45am and I'm tiered but wanted to get them out wanted to work on some other stuff later today lol)
The hallway was louder than the classroom.
In class, the noise had rules. A teacher's voice cut through it. Chalk scratched the board. Desks stayed in lines. Even when kids whispered, they whispered like they were supposed to.
In the hallway, everything spilled.
Feet pounded. Kids shouted names like throwing pebbles. Someone cried because they couldn't find their mother even though mothers weren't even inside. Someone else laughed too hard because laughing was easier than being scared. Bodies bumped and swayed, a moving river of elbows and backpacks.
Raizo walked beside Tsunade and tried to keep his breathing steady.
In with the wave.
Out with the tide.
He listened.
Not to every voice.
Not to every heartbeat.
He listened for what mattered.
Who watched him too long.
Who whispered his name.
Who didn't whisper at all—because they wanted him to hear.
Tsunade moved like a blade through the crowd, shoulders squared, chin lifted, daring the hallway to challenge her.
The hallway didn't.
Raizo kept close enough that her presence still helped, even if she pretended it didn't.
Behind them, Jiraiya was talking.
He had been talking since they left the classroom, like he'd swallowed a bell and couldn't stop ringing.
"So, okay, listen," Jiraiya said, voice too loud, "I think I did pretty good on the leaf thing. Except mine kept flipping over and then it tried to fly away, but that's because my chakra is strong, you know? Like, it doesn't want to sit still. It wants to—"
"Shut up," Tsunade snapped, not even turning around.
Jiraiya grinned like she'd complimented him. "No."
Raizo didn't look back, but he could feel Jiraiya's chakra bouncing, bright and messy. It didn't feel dangerous. It felt… restless.
Like a puppy that hadn't learned what "stop" meant.
Jiraiya leaned forward, voice dropping slightly but still loud enough to reach anyone nearby. "Where are you from, Raizo? Like, really. People were whispering."
Tsunade's shoulders tightened.
Raizo kept walking. "Uzushio."
Jiraiya's eyes widened like he'd just been handed a secret. "No way. That's real? I thought it was like—like a story."
"It's real," Raizo said.
Jiraiya whistled. "Whoa. Did you fight pirates?"
Raizo blinked. "No."
"Did you fight monsters?"
"No."
"Did you do seals already?"
Raizo hesitated.
He didn't like answering questions in a crowd.
But lying felt worse.
"A little," he said.
Jiraiya's grin stretched wide. "I knew you were hiding something."
"I'm not hiding," Raizo replied, more firmly this time.
Jiraiya laughed. "That's what hiding sounds like!"
Tsunade stopped so suddenly Raizo almost walked into her.
She turned and jabbed a finger into Jiraiya's chest.
"Stop," she said, each word sharp. "Talking. About. Him."
Jiraiya blinked, startled. "I'm not being mean."
"You're being loud," Tsunade snapped. "That's worse."
Jiraiya's mouth opened, then closed again. He frowned, genuinely confused. "How is that worse?"
Raizo watched him.
Jiraiya didn't understand.
Not because he was cruel.
Because he didn't know what it felt like to be listened to by strangers the way Raizo was.
Tsunade grabbed Raizo's sleeve again and pulled him forward. "Come on."
Raizo went.
Jiraiya followed anyway, still talking, just slightly quieter now like he was trying very hard and failing.
They reached the lunch yard.
It wasn't a big field. Just a patch of open space with a few trees and a fence line. Kids clustered in groups like magnets finding their own kind. Some sat with siblings. Some sat alone. Some tried to act like they weren't alone.
Raizo didn't know what kind he was supposed to be.
Tsunade didn't seem to care. She picked a spot under a tree near the fence, dropped down, and started unwrapping her lunch with the same expression she wore during training: serious, annoyed, and fully committed.
Raizo sat beside her and unwrapped his rice balls carefully.
He felt eyes again.
Kid eyes.
Not adult eyes that weighed him like a weapon.
Kid eyes that poked him like a bruise to see if it hurt.
He tried to ignore them.
He ate.
Tsunade ate.
For ten whole seconds, nothing happened.
Then Jiraiya showed up and plopped down on the other side of Raizo like he had been invited.
Tsunade stared at him. "Why are you here."
Jiraiya shrugged. "Because you're here."
"That's not a reason," Tsunade said.
"It's a reason," Jiraiya insisted, already opening his lunch. "Also, I don't know anyone."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "Good."
Jiraiya ignored her and took a huge bite, chewing loudly.
Raizo ate in silence.
He almost liked the quiet between them, even with Jiraiya's chewing.
Almost.
A shadow fell over their spot.
Raizo looked up.
Three kids stood there.
They were older than him—maybe eight, maybe nine. Old enough to have some confidence but not old enough to have earned any of it. The one in front had hair pulled back tight, eyes sharp, mouth already curled like he'd decided something about Raizo before he'd even walked over.
His friends hovered behind him, not brave enough to lead but brave enough to follow.
The front kid looked at Tsunade first.
His expression flickered with something like caution.
Then he looked at Raizo.
His smile sharpened.
"So," he said, voice casual on purpose. "That's you."
Raizo didn't answer.
He didn't like the way the boy's chakra felt.
Not strong.
Not messy.
Just… pointed.
Like a stick aimed at a bee hive.
Jiraiya, unfortunately, answered for him.
"Yep!" Jiraiya said cheerfully. "That's Raizo. He's from Uzushio."
Tsunade's head snapped toward him. "Why would you say that."
Jiraiya blinked. "Because it's true?"
The older kid's smile widened.
"Uzushio," he repeated, like he was tasting the word. "I heard about you."
Raizo kept his fingers on his rice ball and didn't look away.
Tsunade's voice was low. "Go away."
The kid ignored her.
He leaned a little closer, eyes fixed on Raizo like he wanted to see him flinch.
"They say Mito-sama keeps you on a leash," the kid said.
Raizo's stomach clenched.
The pressure behind his eyes rose, small but immediate, like a storm noticing lightning.
He breathed.
In with the wave.
Out with the tide.
His quiet space held.
Tsunade's fist tightened.
Jiraiya's mouth opened—then closed, like he wasn't sure what to do with the word leash.
The kid tilted his head. "Is it true? Or do you bite?"
His friends snickered.
Raizo's fingers curled around the rice ball.
He didn't want to hurt anyone.
He didn't want to be seen.
But he also—
He didn't want to be talked to like that.
Tsunade shifted forward, shoulders rising like she was about to stand.
Raizo's hand moved quickly and lightly.
He touched her wrist.
Not grabbing.
Just a touch.
Tsunade froze, surprised.
Raizo looked at her and shook his head once.
Don't.
Tsunade's eyes narrowed, anger still there, but she stopped.
The older kid noticed the movement and grinned like he'd won something.
"Oh, look," he said, voice syrupy. "Senju girl has to hold him down."
Tsunade's expression went dangerous.
Jiraiya leaned forward, suddenly defensive. "Hey! That's not—"
The kid's eyes flicked to Jiraiya. "Who asked you."
Jiraiya puffed up instantly. "I can talk if I want."
The kid shrugged. "Okay. Talk."
Jiraiya's mouth moved before his brain caught up.
"If he's on a leash," Jiraiya said, trying to sound smart, "then maybe it's because Mito-sama thinks he'll bite."
The words hit the air like a dropped stone.
Raizo went still.
Tsunade's head snapped toward Jiraiya so fast it was almost a blur.
Her eyes were wide with fury.
Jiraiya blinked, realizing too late that he'd done something wrong. "What? I'm— I'm defending him."
The older kid laughed.
Laughed like he'd been handed a gift.
"Did you hear that?" he called loudly, turning his head so other kids nearby could hear. "Even his friend thinks he bites!"
More eyes turned.
More whispers sparked.
Leash.
Bite.
Uzumaki.
Uzushio.
The rumor took shape right there, in real time, like watching a paper fold itself into a knife.
Raizo's breath stuttered.
The pressure behind his eyes rose, sharp.
His quiet space trembled.
He touched the breath-anchor tag hidden in his sleeve.
The tiny spiral seal hummed warm against his skin like a steady hand.
Raizo.
In with the wave.
Out with the tide.
He didn't move.
He didn't flare.
He didn't give them the storm.
The older kid watched him carefully, grin fading just slightly when Raizo didn't react the way he wanted.
Tsunade stood up slowly.
The air shifted.
Every kid nearby felt it.
Tsunade Senju, standing.
That meant something.
Her voice was low, controlled, and somehow more frightening than if she'd shouted.
"You don't get to joke about that," she said to Jiraiya.
Jiraiya's face flushed. "I didn't mean—"
"And you," Tsunade snapped, turning her gaze to the older kid, "you don't get to talk about him."
The older kid's grin twitched, stubborn. "Or what."
Tsunade stepped forward half a pace.
Raizo felt her chakra flare—dense, heavy, powerful for a child.
The older kid's friends shifted back instantly.
The boy himself tried to hold his ground.
Then a shadow fell across all of them.
A teacher.
The stern instructor from earlier stood a short distance away, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut.
"Problem," he said.
No one answered.
The instructor's gaze moved over them like counting pieces on a board. It paused on Tsunade, then on Raizo, then on the older kid, then on Jiraiya.
His eyes narrowed.
"Tomorrow," he said, voice flat, "there will be a micro-assessment."
Several kids swallowed.
The older kid's expression flickered with surprise.
Jiraiya looked excited instantly. "A test?!"
Tsunade's face tightened. "What kind."
"Chakra control," the instructor said. "Basic forms. Attention drills."
His gaze landed on the group again. "And behavior."
No one spoke.
The instructor's mouth tightened. "You are children. Act like it."
Then he turned and walked away.
The older kid hesitated, calculating.
Tsunade's glare did not move.
He scoffed, trying to recover his pride, and backed away with his friends.
But he didn't look at Raizo the same anymore.
Not like he was harmless.
Like he was… something that could become a problem.
Jiraiya sat down hard, cheeks still red.
"I was trying to help," he muttered, angry now because he felt stupid.
Tsunade didn't reply.
Raizo sat back down slowly, hands still shaking slightly under the table where no one could see.
He unwrapped another rice ball with deliberate care.
Jiraiya glanced at him. "Are you mad."
Raizo thought about it.
He wasn't mad.
Not in a hot way.
Not like Tsunade.
He just felt… watched.
More than before.
He met Jiraiya's eyes for a moment, then looked away.
"Don't say things like that," Raizo said quietly.
Jiraiya frowned. "Like what."
Raizo kept his voice calm. "Like I'm a dog."
Jiraiya's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry."
Tsunade grunted as if that was the only acceptable answer.
Lunch ended eventually.
The day kept moving.
But something had changed.
By the time the bell rang at the end of the afternoon and kids poured out into the streets, Raizo could feel it in the air—the rumor, already moving ahead of him like smoke.
He walked beside Tsunade again, quieter than ever.
Tsunade was still angry, but it wasn't pointed at him. It was pointed outward, at anyone who tried to make him into a thing.
Raizo touched the breath-anchor tag in his sleeve.
Raizo.
In.
Out.
Tsunade glanced sideways at him. "They'll keep talking."
Raizo looked ahead, eyes steady, voice calm.
"Let them talk."
Thanks for reading, feel free to write a comment, leave a review, and Power Stones are always appreciated.