Chapter 222: What Others Have, A-Mu Must Have Too
Obito pulled a carefully wrapped box from his pocket, flipping the lid open with the breathless reverence of a knight presenting a holy relic.
"I got my allowance today and made a beeline straight for the sweets shop," he announced, his dark eyes sparkling under the moonlight. "Look! These are the limited edition Seven-Colored Dango! I saw Asuma buy a skewer for Kurenai earlier, and all the girls in class were practically drooling with envy. I waited in line for hours just to get these for you. What others have, A-Mu must have too."
Stelle fell into a strange, heavy silence. The way she looked at the boy sitting across from her subtly shifted.
Do not be fooled by Obito's seemingly careless, loudmouth nature; he possessed an almost terrifying sensitivity to the gazes of others. Instantly noticing the complex shift in her expression, he blinked, his hands flying up to his forehead.
"What's wrong? Are my goggles crooked?"
Stelle slowly shook her head. "No one has ever said things like that to me so directly."
Usually, she was the one spinning such honeyed, manipulative lines to farm reactions out of others.
"Because it's A-Mu. I only say these things to A-Mu," Obito said, flashing a bright, entirely unshadowed smile.
That strange, unsettling feeling washed over her again. It felt as though their roles had been entirely reversed, and Obito was the one expertly playing the part of the emotion collector. He kept leaning into her space, radiating an earnest warmth. She didn't even have to lift a finger or spin a single lie; she only needed to stand still to get whatever she wanted.
Young Obito was as passionate and relentless as a blazing ball of fire.
[Host, do not get a bargain and then act like a spoiled brat. A Mood Value Saintly Body has willingly delivered himself to your doorstep, and you are so thrilled you secretly laugh into your blankets every single night. Yet, you still suspect he has a system? Please. In this world, I am entirely one of a kind.]
The System's mechanical voice carried a distinct edge of temper. Clearly, it felt deeply insulted that its absolute uniqueness was being questioned by its own host.
Stelle and Obito sat side by side near the tranquil lake. He eagerly popped the lid off the insulated food container he had smuggled over the wall, revealing the rich, steaming tomato beef stew he had promised to cook for her.
The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder under the night sky, happily stuffing their faces with sweet dango and savory beef.
Stelle was already uncomfortably full from dinner, but looking at the boy who had literally scaled a wall in the dead of night just to bring her a hot meal, she simply couldn't refuse. She forced down another massive pile of beef and sticky rice dumplings.
To his credit, the tomato beef stew Obito made was absolutely phenomenal. He was already shaping up to be an exceptionally qualified, domestic teammate.
They chatted idly for a while, the night breeze rustling the leaves above them, until the topic naturally drifted toward a certain silver-haired boy.
"A-Mu, is Kakashi actually easy to get along with?" Obito asked, poking at a piece of beef with his chopsticks. "Since you're living at his house now, does that jerk bully you?"
"He doesn't. Kakashi is actually a very gentle person."
"Kakashi? Gentle?!"
Obito practically leaped into the air, his goggles bouncing against his forehead. His brain violently rejected the idea of associating his eternal rival with a word like 'gentle.' He immediately launched into a passionate, breathless rant about how insufferably arrogant Kakashi was, how much the silver-haired brat loved to show off during their practical combat classes lately, and how annoyingly popular he was with all the girls.
Mid-rant, Obito froze. A sudden realization dawned on his face, followed by a slow, mischievous grin.
"Wait a second... Uncle Sakumo adopted you, right? Doesn't that technically make you Kakashi's older sister? Hahaha!"
Obito threw his head back and laughed heartily, thoroughly delighted by the technicality. To him, the mere thought of the arrogant Kakashi having to respectfully call her 'Big Sister' felt like a massive personal victory.
Seeing him so genuinely thrilled, Stelle chose not to burst his bubble by reminding him that, according to her carefully crafted alias, she was actually older than Obito as well.
Meanwhile, in the quiet courtyard of the Hatake compound, Sakumo Hatake leaned against the wooden sliding door. He cast a warm, knowing smile toward his son, who was currently plastered against the perimeter wall, listening in.
"Kakashi, you want to join them too, don't you?" Sakumo teased softly. "You could always try going to their little gathering next time."
"I do not."
Kakashi immediately pushed off the wall, turning on his heel and marching toward his bedroom. "Honestly," he grumbled under his breath, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Couldn't that idiot have said whatever he needed to say tomorrow morning? Climbing over our wall in the middle of the night... if he hadn't spoken up first, I would have thrown my shuriken."
The next morning, Stelle woke up feeling completely bloated. Because she had gorged herself on midnight stew and dango, the very thought of breakfast made her stomach churn.
Of the warm milk and freshly baked bread Sakumo had prepared for them, she only managed to sip the milk.
However, as she looked down at her clothes, a deep sense of dread washed over her. It was only when she opened her closet to change for the academy that the horrifying reality set in. It wasn't just the bedroom furniture and the bedsheets that were pink. Every single piece of clothing in the closet, the hair ties, the headbands resting on the vanity—everything was an aggressive, blinding shade of pink.
Stelle scratched her head, a phantom headache throbbing behind her temples.
[Host, so cute, so cute, so cute! I love it so much, ahhh!] The System practically shrieked in her mind the moment she slipped into the pink outfit.
Stelle:...
Stepping out onto the back porch, she found Kakashi already deep into his morning kenjutsu practice in the backyard. His dark eyes, which usually sat half-closed in a mask of lazy indifference, were now blown wide open. They carried the cold, calculating sharpness unique to a true swordsman.
Swish! Swish!
The cold edge of his short blade sliced through the morning air, letting out sharp, whistling shrieks with every arc. Just looking at the sheer momentum and precision of his strikes, one could already see the terrifying shadow of the White Fang of Konoha taking shape.
Sakumo watched his son's movements in silence for a few minutes before calling for a halt. He stepped down from the porch, handing Kakashi a small, worn notebook he had brought from the house.
"You've been practicing your basic blade techniques for a while now," Sakumo said, his tone shifting from a gentle father to a seasoned commander. "You should move on to the next stage. This is the training manual for that progression. Take a look."
Kakashi accepted the notes with both hands, immediately sitting cross-legged on the wooden deck to study them.
Taking the opportunity to hand Kakashi a clean towel, Stelle casually peeked over his shoulder at the open notebook. Her eyes narrowed slightly. The exercises detailed on the pages were specifically and carefully designed to correct the exact micro-weaknesses Kakashi had just displayed during his swings.
Did Sakumo just write this entire manual in the few minutes he went inside?
Stelle finally understood the unorthodox way Sakumo taught his son. But it begged the question: why didn't he just correct Kakashi's posture verbally? Why go through the exhausting trouble of writing a customized manual every single time?
"A-Mu, do you have any interest in learning the blade?"
Sakumo's voice pulled her from her thoughts. He looked at her thoughtfully, his gaze briefly lingering on her right eye—the eye that housed the Rinnegan. He knew her life was destined to be anything but ordinary. "I have some notes on basic blade techniques here as well. You can take them, read through them, and let Kakashi guide you through the forms."
Learning the blade?
Stelle looked down at her empty hands. With her current physical specs, she could easily master a dual-blade style right now if she wanted to.
She looked back up, feigning a look of hesitant insecurity.
"If you don't like it, you can just say so," Kakashi chimed in without looking up from his manual. "I'm very busy with my own training anyway. I might not even have the time to teach you."
He picked up the towel she had just handed him, pressing it against his forehead to catch the dripping sweat. His dark eyes flicked upward, sweeping over her entirely pink, overly cute attire. His hand paused mid-wipe for a fraction of a second before he quickly resumed drying his hair.
Stelle let out a perfectly timed, silly little laugh.
"I probably don't have an ounce of talent for swinging swords anyway, so let's just forget it."
She already despised the exhausting, blood-soaked reality of being a ninja; why on earth would she willingly learn kenjutsu? Naturally, she was going to strictly adhere to the harmless, civilian liberal arts route.
Yes, her fragile, weak persona absolutely could not break.
Seeing her gentle refusal, Sakumo didn't push the matter. He simply smiled, packed up his remaining gear, and left to open up his shop for the day.
Stelle sat patiently on the wooden floorboards, waiting for Kakashi to finish memorizing his new routine so they could walk to the academy together. She watched as he closed the manual, stood up, and immediately tested out the new set of blade techniques. He even paused to touch his own shoulder and wrist joints—the exact spots where his kinetic power had been misapplied just moments prior. As he realized the flawless accuracy of the corrections, his expression grew incredibly complicated.
Kakashi was far too sharp. He had likely already pieced together from a dozen different clues that his father was no ordinary cook.
It was just that between this particular father and son, one refused to speak of the past, and the other stubbornly refused to ask. It was a truly awkward, silent dance.
When Stelle and Kakashi finally arrived at the Ninja Academy and slid the classroom door open, they instantly commanded the attention of every student inside.
"Who is she? She's so cute! Do we have someone like that in our class?"
"I don't think so! I've never seen her before!"
"Did she wander into the wrong classroom?"
"But she walked in right behind Kakashi..."
Ignoring the loud whispers, Stelle kept her head down and walked straight toward the window seat at the very back of the room.
As she passed Genma Shiranui, who was casually leaning back in his chair with his signature senbon resting between his teeth, he suddenly sat up. Raising both of his hands, he formed a tight square with his fingers, framing her face in the air to block out her new pink aesthetic and isolate only her eyes.
A few seconds of intense scrutiny passed. Then, Genma slammed his hand down on his desk.
"I knew I wasn't mistaken!" he declared, grinning around his needle. "A-Mu! It's you, right, A-Mu?!"
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