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Obito's POV:
When I was first told that I would be the guardian of young master Reizan, it was the happiest day of my life.
I owed everything to Master Soran. My life. My name. My place in this world.
I was an orphan with nothing, not even a family name to bury me under, and he gave me all of it. A home.
Training.
Purpose.
A reason to wake up in the morning that wasn't just survival.
So when he told me I would be protecting his youngest son, I didn't see it as a duty.
I saw it as the chance I'd been waiting for. The chance to repay even a fraction of what I'd been given.
Young master Reizan was two years old when I first saw him.
I remember the day clearly. I'd been stationed on the rooftop overlooking the eastern wing, where the young master's quarters were. Standard guard rotation.
Observe.
Protect.
Report anything unusual.
I was expecting a baby. Who does normal baby things like crying, babbling, and throwing things around.
What I got was silence.
He was sitting in his room. Alone. Staring at the ceiling. Not moving or making a sound. Just... existing.
I thought he was sleeping with his eyes open at first. Some children do that. It's unsettling but not uncommon.
But no. He was awake. His eyes were staring at the wooden beams above him, moving slowly from one to the other, like he was counting them. Or maybe just looking for something to look at because nothing else in the room held his interest.
A two-year-old, sitting perfectly still, with a blank expression.
Like he was looking at the world and finding nothing in it worth reacting to.
It unsettled me for some reason, I could not explain.
I told myself it was nothing. Children are strange and they go through phases. He was probably just tired, or sick, or having a quiet day. Every child has quiet days.
But the quiet didn't end.
As the months passed, I watched him carefully. That was my job, after all.
And the more I watched, the more I noticed.
He never cried.
When he fell, he didn't wail. He got up quietly, brushed himself off with his tiny hands, and kept walking. No tears. No fuss. Like falling was just another thing that happened, no different from breathing or blinking.
When he was hungry, he didn't scream for food the way his siblings used to. He just waited until someone noticed and brought him something to eat. And when they did, he ate without complaint and without joy.
When adults spoke to him in that high-pitched cooing voice they all seemed to think was mandatory when addressing anything under the age of five, he just… stared at them. With those crystal blue eyes, which unnerved them. That lasted until the adults got uncomfortable and left.
It was, honestly, one of the weirdest things I'd ever witnessed.
He even started speaking frighteningly early. Full sentences by the time he was one. The servants whispered about it. Called him a prodigy. A genius. And, with his massive cursed energy reserves, it was fair to call him that.
But I watched him closer than the servants did.
And what I saw wasn't genius.
It was an absence of emotions.
He said what needed to be said and nothing more. He answered questions but never asked them. He acknowledged people but never sought them out.
He followed instructions without complaint. Ate when he was told. Slept when he was asked to. Went where he was led. Did what he was asked.
But he never asked for anything.
Never once.
Not a toy. Not a sweet. Not a story before bed. Not to be held. Not to be played with. Not even to be spoken to..... That's a lot of 'Not's'.
I'd seen children who were quiet, children who were serious, and even children who were mature beyond their years, forced to grow up fast by circumstances that should never have been forced on someone so young.
But young master Reizan wasn't any of those things.
He wasn't quiet because he was thoughtful. He wasn't serious because he was focused. He wasn't mature because life had hardened him.
He was simply empty.
Like a lantern with no flame inside. A hollow thing, waiting for something that might never come.
I reported my observations to Master Soran once.
I chose my words carefully. I didn't want to alarm him. It was my duty after all.
Luckily, Master Soran listened. He didn't interrupt me. He listened with that calm expression he always wore when he was thinking deeply about something.
When I finished, he was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, simply, "Give him time."
So I gave him time.
Two years of it.
Two years of watching a child move through the world like a ghost. Present but untouched. Alive but not living.
Lady Fuyomi held him every day. Kissed his forehead. Called him snowflake like always. Read to him. Sang for him.
And he let her. He didn't pull away. But he didn't lean in, either. He just sat in her arms, like a stone being held by a river. Unchanged by the current.
Young master Ryu dragged him everywhere. Talked at him constantly. Challenged him to games Young Master Reizan had no interest in playing. Told him stories. Made him laugh, or tried to. Sometimes, rarely, he'd get a small reaction. A twitch of the lips. A short exhale that might have been amusement if you were generous.
But never a smile.
Young mistress Fuyuka was gentler. She sat with him in silence, seeming to understand that words weren't what he needed. She'd place a cup of tea beside him, or a flower she'd picked from the garden, and leave without saying anything. And sometimes, he'd look at the flower for a while.
But he never smiled.
I started to wonder if he would ever change. Or if young master Reizan would simply grow into a man and always be the same, hollow being?
I, too, started to accept it.
And then, today happened.
We were standing on the plains outside the town walls.
Young master had asked me to take him outside the walls. I'd hesitated, but he'd insisted. And I'd learned, in the short time since his eyes had awakened, that arguing with young master Reizan was like arguing with a polite, blindfolded wall. He'd hear you out, acknowledge your concern, and then do what he was going to do anyway.
So I brought him out.
And then he pulled off his blindfold.
My heart nearly stopped. I lunged forward, certain he'd collapse the way he had when his eyes first awakened during young mistress Fuyuka's demonstration.
But he didn't collapse.
He stood there. Eyes closed. And then, slowly, he opened them.
And I watched his face.
It happened slowly. Like watching the dawn break over a valley that had been dark for a very long time.
The blankness faded.
Light began to shine.
Something rose up behind his eyes. Something I'd never seen there before. Something warm and alive and startled by its own existence, like a bird realizing for the first time that it has wings. (Bars)
He whispered, "It's beautiful."
And then he said it again, like once wasn't enough.
And then..... he smiled.
I had served in this clan for years. I had seen Master Soran's rare, quiet smiles, the kind that appeared for half a second and vanished before you were sure they'd been there at all. I had seen young master Ryu's reckless grins. I had seen young mistress Fuyuka's composed, knowing expressions, the subtle curve of lips that said she understood more than she let on.
But, young master Reizan's smile moved me the most.
When he smiled, standing in that field with the wind in his hair and the mountains behind him, it was the most gentle thing I had ever witnessed.
Soft. Surprised. Like he didn't know his own face could make that shape.
"I want to live a long life," he said, looking at the mountains. "In this beautiful world."
I stood behind him, saying nothing.
Because there was nothing to say.
I just watched. And I made sure to remember every detail I could.
The lantern had finally caught fire.
And I would die before I let it go out.
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A look into what was MC's from the outer perspective.