Hi, what's up?
How was your week?
HUGE shout out to WOLF-GOST, champblaze, and LeviDragon. And to everyone that's still keeping up with this story. You guys are so incredible :)
I was supposed to post this yesterday, but I overslept after getting back from work. Totally my fault. I apologize.
Note: Shinjiro is Naruto, and Naruto is Shinjiro. They're the same person. I'll only use one or the other depending on the situation and context. Also, even though Tailed Beasts are basically sentient chakra, I'll be calling them "demons" as well, just because.
One particular scene at the very end is inspired by a movie I enjoy. I assure you; you won't be able to guess which movie. Also, I want your opinion on something by the end of this chapter.
That said, enjoy…
CHAPTER 6
The students of Class 1-F buzzed excitedly, restless and chittering as they sat on the ground of one of the outdoor training grounds with their legs crossed, some hugging their knees to their chest and barely keeping themselves still.
All one hundred of them were sitting around a fairly large, circular mat marked with red designs on its edge and a large red dot at its centre. The discomfort of sitting on the hard ground was far from their minds.
A tall, portly man with a prominent potbelly waded through the sitting students, bumbling through and carelessly stepping on knees, hands, and feet until the children wizened up and cleared a path. The man's torso looked like a lowercase "b", with his large stomach trembling with each heavy step and his brow sopping with sweat from the harmless, early morning rays of the sun.
His chunin vest looked about ready to explode. He retrieved a handkerchief from a pocket of his baggy brown and white camo pants, muttering a huffing apology to a young boy as he yelped as the grown man's shinobi boots stepped on the child's notebook, barely able to pull his hand away from the boot and saving himself from a broken hand.
He finally got to the mat in the middle of the gathering, messily tucking his handkerchief into the back pocket of his pants and running a hand through his short brown hair. He took a moment to look around at the dozens of eyes blinking at him, tapping his chin and muttering something under his breath, then he clapped, creating a brief shockwave that rippled out from under his feet and harmlessly passed under the students, who entered a frenzy of hyperactive hooting.
"Morning!" he called, speaking in a scratchy voice that somehow sounded loud.
The class chorused in reply, "Good morning, Sugito-sensei!"
"That jutsu you just felt now is what happens if you dedicate yourself to years of service and diligent training." He jabbed a thumb at his chest and turned around, making sure to address everyone. "It took me five years before I could do that without using hand seals. I started, like all of you, from the basics." He held up his hands and turned a little, calling for some quiet when the tempo of the murmuring increased, and he waited a moment for silence, continuing, "Hand seals are the basic foundations of all Ninjutsu." he held up a finger, setting his left fist on his hip. "Who can remind me what these hand seals are?"
A wave of hands bolted up.
He pointed at a girl with short blue hair styled into two pigtails, and she happily shouted. "Twelve hand seals, sensei: Ox, Tiger, Snake, Rat, Horse, Monkey, Hare, Dragon, Bird, Dog, Boar, and Ram."
"Excellent!" the girl preened under his praise, and the teacher turned around. "Hand seals are a way we guide our chakra from our cores," he touched his chest with the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand, trailing down from his heart to his left palm, "and manifest jutsu. Hand seals help us shape our chakra and help us visualise the jutsu." He spun around, dramatic, and held up a finger. "What happens when we don't properly practice our hand seals before channelling chakra?" This time, he pointed at somebody. "You."
"Uhm." Shinjiro faltered for a second, caught off-guard before blurting out, "Our chakra could backfire on us."
"Wonderful!"
The Tsuchikage's granddaughter lightly bumped her shoulder against Shinjiro's, and the boy gave her a crooked smirk.
The boy was one of the students who sat at the back, so the teacher wanted to test how much he paid attention in class. For someone who taught Basic Ninjutsu to half of the Academy's First Years, it was remarkable that Sugita was able to remember the faces of all his students. The teacher's attention went off Shinjiro and Kurotsuchi's harmless teasing, though; he whipped around and announced, "Split up into groups of five and spread out. Practice your hand seals; the best three groups get a surprise. Hop to it."
There was general mayhem, friends tackling each other, getting dragged away, or in some cases, the children wandering to the outskirts of the pandemonium, hands in their pockets and slouched. They didn't move to join any group, just waffling around pointlessly until the dust settled.
Sugita wanted to test them if they practised their seals over the weekend as he told them to last week.
Many couldn't thread through the twelve seals.
Shinjiro took hold of Kurotsuchi's elbow, keeping his grip loose but possessive. The girl didn't move to shake him off, rather she distractedly hooked their elbows and waded through the scrummage of students, Her eyes lit up when she caught her friends waving for her attention. "We only need three more, right?"
"Yup." Naruto nodded, fighting the wild smile that wanted to curl up on his face. "You don't mind?"
His answer was a scoff and a roll of her eyes, tugging Shinjiro's cap down onto his face.
With a strong posture, she flagged for her friends to meet her outside of the crowd. When they got to them, about seven of them, Kurotsuchi gave them a stern look at the way they tried not to laugh, seeing her walking lockstep with Shinjiro; the boy that audaciously spoke to her the other week.
"Don't start." She warned them, She stopped and dropped Shinjiro's hand, realising their proximity for the first time and stepping away from him. He let go of her hand with a humming smirk, scuffing the hard ground with his heel and putting his hands behind his back. She pointed at three other girls, speaking in a commanding voice. "We're getting that surprise. You boys'll slow us down."
A round of sputtered huffing ensued from the boys, and gloating looks from the chosen girls and Kurotsuchi shook her head rigorously, holding her right hand forward.
"It's done. We're doing this."
The boys didn't seem too keen on moving away, or admitting that they weren't the sharpest tools in the box.
"Why's he have to stay then?" a friend said, pointing at Shinjiro, who was absentmindedly strolling toward one of the girls that had arrived beside Kurotsuchi, drawing a quick and wide-eyed look from the apparent leader of the group, ruffled when Shinjiro harmlessly tucked his hands into his pockets. "He's not even smart."
A chorus of "yeah" sounded from each of the offended boys.
Shinjiro tilted his head to the side a little, confusedly creasing his temple. "I am smart." On the surface, the boy was unmoved, but his eyes crackled. He shrugged stiffly, trying to seem relaxed. "Way smarter than you."
"What'd you say?" Another boy spat. He was a bit older than the rest, and madder than the others. "Who's this kid anyway?"
Kurotsuchi came to Shinjiro's defence. "Don't listen to them; they're just salty." Hiding his taunted them with a secret smile, and Kurotsuchi threw her face away from Shinjiro. "You guys don't know anything." Like a spirit, Shinjiro quietly and slowly walked behind Kurotsuchi, his hands balled into hard fists in his pockets and his smile low and tight, barely keeping back a snarl as he lingered over Kurotsuchi's shoulders, while the girl tiredly pleaded for the boys to move on. "Get moving. We'll meet for lunch later."
A few of the boys made to speak again but stilled when they caught sight of Naruto.
His eyes were red and predatory, and his mouth was pulled back, baring serrated teeth that leaked with venom and acid. His expression was contorted, hatefully demonic, with a light shadow cast over his face. The aura about him resembled a towering wall of blackness, looming behind Kurotsuchi and baring down on the boys with a wicked growl.
Their faces paled and their mouths abruptly sealed shut, and Kurotsuchi whirled around.
Shinjiro's face snappishly reverted to normal, and he blinked at her with confused blue eyes, shrugging in bewilderment at the odd look she was giving him. "What?"
"N-Nothing…" she muttered, scrunching up her face. "I felt a chill just now."
He smiled jokingly, and the morning sun unnoticeably heated up. "You're funny; today's not even cold."
The girl flushed and hmphed, turning her face away and grabbing his sleeve. She pulled him away from the shaken boys, and the girls followed suit. Shinjiro giggled at her pouting.
"You better pull your weight, funny boy." She didn't look at him, finding their group a nice spot on the training ground away from the other groups, saying, "Don't make me regret picking you."
The humour on Shinjiro's face lessened a little, and he nodded. "We've got this." He forced them to a stop, with her not snatching her fingers from his sleeve. The girl glanced at him, her shoulders slouching and a weary sigh escaping her mouth. Shinjiro gave her a sunny grin and two awkward thumbs up. "Trust me."
The girl closed her eyes and stepped away again, realising once more that she was standing close to him. Her stance swelled up and her eyes opened, fiery with determination. She wordlessly nodded.
The other girls spectated, not sure how to inject themselves into the bubble around Kurotsuchi and Shinjiro until the Tsuchikage's granddaughter ushered them into a spacious circle.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Sugita casually patrolled the groups. His walking posture was slouched, as if his stomach was weighing him down, and his hands were behind his back. His eyes were raptly watching the students flick their hands through hand seals, not channelling chakra but forcing themselves to get through the motions; muscle memory was essential to mastering hand seals.
In many other Hidden Village Academies, like Kumo, Konoha, and Kiri, the bare basics of hand seals were taught to children before their First Years in school, either by parents, relatives, friends of the family, tutors, or they learnt it on their own from observing ninjas or from television shows. They at least had a good idea of how to manoeuvre their fingers through seals.
Iwa's economy didn't permit anyone to be idle, so parents and the like didn't have plenty of time to teach their children anything, leaving instructions to the Academy while the adults worked. Things like reading, writing, and Sex Ed were pushed entirely on underpaid and overwhelmed Iwa teachers.
Sugita and Kouno-sensei—the First Year Basic Genjutsu instructor—were one of the lucky few who were passionate about teaching, and passing their vast knowledge and experience onto the next generation. Many other teachers in the Iwa Academy didn't help matters, like the Basic Shinobi Coding instructor.
A student is only as smart as the opportunities for learning they are given, Sugita mused, trying to keep his expression pleasant for the nervous students throwing looks at him as they fumbled through hand seals. Only talented geniuses who can scrape by on their own make it out of the First Year of this Academy. It's sickening.
He stopped and turned a bit, looking back at the quiet thirteen-year-old trailing behind him. Sugita gave the boy a cheery, humming smile, and the boy's sullen face lifted a little, trying to smile back at the kind teacher but only looking sadder. The boy was gripping his right hand to his chest, trembling fearfully with each subdued step. The child wrenched his eyes away from his teacher and looked down.
"Don't look so down, Usagin," Sugita said, taking a hand away from his back and ruffling the child's hair, returning his hand to his back. "It's not your fault, ok?"
The boy had barely been convinced to come to school that morning, traumatised by whatever had broken his wrist; he still didn't say who, what, or why did that to him.
The child nodded, still trailing after his teacher, as he had been instructed.
Usagin had repeated his First Year four times. Some of his first classmates were already shinobi. His younger brother was going to graduate by the end of the year.
It wasn't that he was any bad at being a student. Yes, he could be rowdy in class and he was mischievous to some of the better teachers, but he was still passing classes; he was only failing two classes, thus disqualifying him from moving to the next class. Classes like Basic Shinobi Coding and Basic Mathematics. The connection between the classes he failed and the terrible teachers who taught them was obvious.
In every other class, he was doing fairly well. He wanted to be a ninja extremely much, and a few ignorable failed marks were holding him back.
Looking at the child now, Usagin was different from the person he was a week ago; he was sullen, and his face was grey and downcast. His eyes were heavy from lack of sleep and he walked with a slow shuffle of his feet, hanging his head down and shaking at the slightest movement from his classmates.
Sugita hummed reflectively and turned back to watching his other students.
He got to the Tsuchikage's granddaughter's group and peered in on them.
Kurotsuchi, flushed with irritation, was correcting Shinjiro's finger placement as it was in the tiger seal. The boy muttered apologies and Kurotsuchi stepped away, motioning for their group to go again, threading through the sequence of seals until one of the other girls, an eight-year-old with blue hair and pigtails named Yue, stumbled when she got to the dragon seal.
Sugita just about caught Shinjiro, whose fingers were already in a perfect dragon seal, moving two of his fingers out of place and into entirely wrong positions. Kurotsuchi groaned angrily and stomped to the boy, even as she had noticed Yue's mistake first, forcibly taking the boy's hands and pushing them together into the seals. His clear blue eyes drooped to their hands, casually glancing up at the girl as she murmured her frustration at him.
The boy's eyes might have been shaded by his ballcap, but Sugita caught this immediately.
The teacher's temple creased.
Shinjiro didn't have much of a presence in class.
He took notes in class, paid attention to his teachers, read his second-hand textbooks, and did his best to keep his clothes clean. He always wore a ballcap, with his hair shaved into a low buzzcut, and kept to himself except for a few offhanded words to his seatmates. It was only this week that he and Kurotsuchi were actively talking to each other.
Among a crowd of a hundred students in a Class 1-F and a year of about six hundred First Years in the school, Shinjiro was a drop of water in a vast ocean.
But Sugita was certain of something anytime he saw Shinjiro's blue eyes peering at him in class.
There was a spark of deep awareness and intelligence in those eyes. Then as soon as the teacher saw it, the boy hid it behind several layers of innocent curiosity and intrigue, fervently writing notes and tapping his chin with his pencil.
It wasn't anything like the awareness and intelligence of an adult.
The best comparison Sugita could think of was Minato Namikaze in his younger years.
"Shinjiro," he snapped, and the boy jumped in surprise at the shockingly mad tone of the teacher, ripping his hands away from Kurotsuchi's grasp and lifting the infuriating veil of innocence over his face. The girl too turned in amazement at Sugita's outburst and the maddened frown on the man's face. "Take this seriously." He faced Kurotsuchi, still angry, and snapped at her too. "You too, Kurotsuchi. Stop enabling him. You're supposed to be setting an example for the others, and all you're doing is joking around."
"Y-Yes, sensei," the pair stammered. "Sorry, sensei."
"Hand seals are life or death for ninjas." Sugita chided them, crossing his arms and hardening his resolve against his baser instinct to let them off with a warning. The other students were beginning to take notice, whispering distractedly. Usagin, although a far distance from Kurotsuchi's group, gaped at his jolly teacher's eruption. "If neither of you are going to take this seriously, then I'll split both of you up."
"Sorry, sensei."
"Good." He nodded, and then he jutted his chin at Shinjiro. "Now, let's see you do it properly. Don't even think of pretending, or I'll take away your break time for this whole week." When the boy frowned, quietly gritting his teeth and looking around at his spectating classmates, the teacher reared up and barked. "Do it!"
Shinjiro's brow twitched, the shadow cast by his cap covering his simmering stare.
He brought his palms together before his chin, exhaling slowly through his nose and blinking his eyes up to his expectant teacher. The man narrowed his eyes down at him and Shinjiro grunted, seamlessly and fluidly flicking his hands through each of the seals.
Ox, Tiger, Snake, Rat, Horse, Monkey, Hare, Dragon, Bird, Dog, Boar,and Ram.
Kurotsuchi's jaw dropped and Shinjiro turned away from her, letting his hands fall and defiantly staring up at his teacher, who gradually brought his posture back down and smiled at the boy.
"Was that so hard?" he raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"
Speaking through clenched teeth and tight lips, Shinjiro answered, "…No, sensei."
"Good boy." Sugita patted the boy on the head and waved his hands to the students, all shocked at the masterful display. "Everybody, get back to work." The man chuckled amicably. "Don't forget about the surprise~."
The students steadily scrambled back to practising their hand seals.
"See me in the Teachers' Lounge after school," the man said to Shinjiro, walking off before the boy moved to respond, flagging for Usagin to follow.
While Shinjiro stared burning hatred at the back of his teacher's head, trying to ignore Kurotsuchi jostling his shoulders to keep him from doing something regrettable, Usagin watched Shinjiro from afar with eyes as wide as dinner plates.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The monster he had been so scared of was just another kid.
Usagin clenched his right hand, holding it to his chest with his left, and levelling Shinjiro with a wrathful look. He jogged past Shinjiro, passing the younger boys turned back as Kurotsuchi pushed Shinjiro to show them how he pulled off his rat hand seal.
To the heavens, the earth, and anything under the earth, Usagin swore under his breath. "I'll make you pay."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Forty minutes after the final bell
On the fifth floor of one of the First-Year buildings and inside the teachers' lounge, the tired instructors began packing up for the day and heading home.
However, Sugita stayed in his seat and leaned back, looking at the boy sitting on the corner of his desk, refusing to look at him and wearing a fierce scowl on his face.
"Listen, Shinjiro," the man made it a point to use his student's name, getting a grunt in response. The man sighed. "I apologise for…exploding on you." The boy scoffed, sniffing dryly and facing the door of the lounge, idling himself by swinging his legs and watching the teachers gather their things. "You just remind me of someone I was acquainted with…. A pen pal I had a long time ago. Before the Third War." The man looked past his student, his mind briefly tumbling back into a memory. "He held himself back, pretending to be an imbecile to make someone else look smart, then…I was made to understand he reached a boiling point, and he stopped holding back." He looked at Shinjiro with a contemplative look. "His true colours began to show. I didn't recognise him anymore, and he ended up doing something that truly broke my heart."
Shinjiro looked at his teacher from the corner of his eyes, meeting the man's kind face. "What's that have to do with me?"
"I see so much intelligence in your eyes, like…like my former friend's," the man admitted wholeheartedly.
"I thought he was your acquaintance." Shinjiro derided in a low, mocking voice.
Sugita simply chuckled, holding up his hands and conceding. "My point is that even though your eyes look so much like his, I see that there's hope for you before you end up like him."
Shinjiro squinted his eyes uncertainly, glancing at his teacher. His question was almost pleading. "Do you really think so?" the man nodded earnestly. "What do I do, sensei?"
"For starters, don't be afraid to be the smartest person in the room."
The boy stilled, turning away from his teacher and absentmindedly bowing to his Basic Genjutsu teacher as she left the lounge to go home. He didn't say anything for a long moment, fixing his eyes on the closed door and screwing his mouth to the side. Then he whispered in such a quiet voice that Sugita strained to hear him, saying, "What if…it scares people…?"
"Intelligence can scare some people. That's natural. That former friend I mentioned was scary smart when he forgot to hide it, and it honestly surprised me. But I got used to it. Same way with time, people will get used to how smart you are." The man laced his fingers and leaned back, setting his hands on the top of his large stomach, under his chest. "Believe me."
"What if…I'm no good?" Shinjiro's blue eyes slithered to the left, looking at the man. The veil of innocence fell and the child's face was nearly expressionless, except for the ghost of a smile that glimmered on the corner of his lips. "What if I'm not normal?"
Sugita winked. "Normal's boring."
A toothy grin grew on the boy's face, and his expression became cheery. "Thanks, sensei."
"It's no problem." The man swivelled his chair back into his desk, riffling through the papers on it, and summarily handing the boy a thin book. The boy took the book with hesitant hands, looking at it. The title was Ninjutsu Theories for First Years, Eighth Edition. "Write a one-page report on that book and bring it before the weekend."
Shinjiro groaned. "But sensei…"
"Before the weekend." The teacher repeated himself firmly. "Am I clear?"
The boy released a longer, more petulant groan, slumping his shoulders and flopping his head back. "…Fine."
"Hm?"
"Yes, sensei." The boy grumbled, hopping off his teacher's desk and shoving the thin book into his schoolbag, hiking it up his shoulders and adjusting it on his back. "Can I go?"
"Sure. I'll see you in our next class."
"Yes, sensei." Shinjiro waved and frustratedly slinked to the door, he threw open the door and forced down the urge to slam it shut, but not before he called out. "Bye, sensei."
"Goodbye, Shinjiro." The man replied, reading a textbook and fixing a pair of wired earpieces connected to an old, palm-sized stereo system. He placed a CD into it and took his mind away from his hyper-intelligent student.
The boy turned around with a huff and stopped when he found Usagin waiting for him outside the door.
Shinjiro swept his eyes up and down his classmate, looking at the older boy's pallid face, his tired black eyes, his ruffled clothes, and then lifting his eyes back to the bandaged wrist Usagin was dearly holding to his chest with the support of his other hand. The boy was also shaking. The taller, older boy towered over the seven-year-old, and Shinjiro curiously knit his brows at the prolonged silence from his classmate.
"Hi." Shinjiro nodded. His eyes dipped to the healing injury that had stopped Usagin from joining a hand seal practice group during class, saying, "I'm glad your wrist is okay."
"…Are you sorry?" Usagin breathed, visibly trembling.
Shinjiro steadily raised his gaze from the wrist to Usagin's eyes, tilting his head to the side. His answer was an unapologetic, "I'm not." The boy watched the older student slowly shake his head, retreating a step and staring hard at the teachers' lounge, then at the nearly vacant fifth floor they were on; besides the Class Representative of 1-A exiting the teachers' lounge, there was no one else in sight. Shinjiro turned around and made for the stairs, saying over his shoulder, "Next time, don't annoy me."
Directly across the long stairwell was the floor's bathroom, The Class Rep of 1-C came out, wiping his hands on his pants. He regarded Shinjiro once, before waiting at the top of the stairs for the other class rep to catch up, giving the younger boy a passing nod and getting one in return.
Usagin quickly rushed to Shinjiro.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Shinjiro's eyes widened when he felt someone's hands planted firmly on his back, pushing him hard enough for him to lose his footing and topple down the hardwood stairs.
The crack and crunch of his bones snapping were drowned by the horrified screams of the other two children at the top of the stairs, until Shinjiro was halted abruptly by the wall, smacking the back of his head wetly against the cement wall. The one that pushed Shinjiro looked down at him with hesitant hatred, watching the broken boy propped up at the bottom of the stairs by the wall.
Shinjiro's neck was broken, the back of his head oozed blood, his dislocated shoulders and fractured arms were riddled with purple and red scars, and his legs were bent in gruesome angles.
The boy at the top of the stairs hugged his healing wrist to his chest, shaking a little and breathing raggedly at what he had done.
At what he was seeing.
Then his heart sank when Shinjiro's eyes fluttered open, flicking straight at him.
Shinjiro's neck snapped back in place and his legs popped, connecting the fractured bones and fusing the tissue till they returned to normal. His legs jerked and his knees bent, setting the soles of his feet squarely on the ground and sticking them to the hard ground with a sheen of chakra.
Without using his hands and with the noisy crackle of his spine resetting, Shinjiro jerked to his feet. His bent back corrected with a gnarly crack, and his broken arms wound back once and attached again.
The smashed-open back of the boy's head hissed as it closed, though the blood and welts on Shinjiro's body didn't heal as quickly.
All the while, his blue eyes didn't leave Usagin's fearful own.
The class reps fell into terrified silence at the display, covering their mouths with horrified looks on their faces.
"No, no, no, no, no," Usagin repeated under his breath.
Shinjiro's face contorted and darkened, his blue eyes flickered to bright orange and vulpine. He stood at the bottom of the stairs in ominous silence, the windless atmosphere in the building stifled the air, making it hard to breathe for everyone. The lights of the stairwell popped, delving the stairs into inky blackness. Shinjiro's silhouette could barely be seen in the darkness, and his orange eyes glowed in the dark.
There wasn't an inkling of murderous intent in the air.
Until, in a split second—
Shinjiro flickered and bound to the top of the stairs as if he was flying, his enlarged, clawed left hand catching Usagin by the face and a normal right hand gripping the older boy's neck, crashing into the bathroom with him, all in one fluid motion.
Usagin didn't have any time to scream.
The class reps just about caught the Shinjiro's beastly appearance; a pair of red triangular ears were at the top of his head, his nose and mouth were a bit prolonged, and his mouth was full of daggered teeth. The three markings on his cheeks were deeper and a sheen of red chakra cloaked his form.
A jarring sequence of crunches followed, punctuated regularly by a demonically guttural rumbling.
Five seconds later, Shinjiro stepped out of the bathroom, cleaning his bloody hands on his white shirt. His face and body reverted to normal. Except, blood tracked down Shinjiro's mouth and chin. He smacked his lips in satisfaction, distractedly fixing his askew cap back onto his head. He didn't seem to mind the handprints of blood on his shirt and arms.
The boy then froze, and his blue eyes slowly turned to the two trembling class reps, quietly tilting his head to the side and humming with furrowed eyebrows. He sounded almost pitiful. "You saw." He closed his eyes and sighed. "You should have run."
A minute later, Sugita popped his head out of the teachers' lounge, looking left and right at the empty floor.
Everyone had gone home.
Nothing was amiss.
Authors note
Next time on Things Get Dark…
Shizune brought her hands up again, this time letting her sleeves fall back a little to reveal her hands, touching her pointer fingers to each side of her lips and forcing herself to smile. Though her eyes were still dark with her insecurities. He says I'm precious. I'm his little star.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kushina's radiant smile echoed in her mind, and a single tear crept down Tsunade's right eye.
A memory of Junior as an infant floated to the surface of her mind, of him peacefully cooing in his crib while Kushina and Tsunade quietly argued that that wasn't their child.
That thing wasn't human.
Tsunade didn't see what they saw, but Junior's parents saw it clearly in their infant son's crystal-clear blue eyes, and his restless fidgeting in his sleep.
That thing wasn't human.
Tsunade made the mistake of loving that boy, even when Minato sent the boy to Suna.
Done
The next chapter features how much Konoha has industrialised, a closer look at Tsunade prepping to meet Junior, and her motivation behind becoming stronger.
Now, I want your opinion on something; would you prefer uploads twice a week (Friday and Monday/Tuesday) but at 3k words per chapter, or once a week (Friday) at 5k words per chapter? I might be speaking too soon, but I have a bit more control of my schedule and planning to make either happen.
That said, stay safe, stay hydrated, and tell your sleep-paralysis demon that El Jefe is back in town. They'll know what that means.
I'll see you when I see you.
Foy.
