The metallic resonance reverberated through the air, intertwining with the furious patter of rain soaking the grass. In the heart of this tempest, a young boy, adorned with spiky orange hair and deep crimson-red eyes, stood in trepidation, tightly cradling a small box against his chest. Before him, two figures loomed, their tall frames standing resolute against the storm. Kunai in hand, they skillfully deflected incoming projectiles, forming a protective bulwark against threats targeting vital organs. The contrast between the anxious youth and the steadfast defenders painted a poignant tableau amid the storm's tumultuous symphony.

"Mom… Dad… Why are they chasing us?" the little boy sobbed, his voice laden with confusion and fear, unable to comprehend the unfolding events.

"Son, they are misguided and lost," called out an older man with orange hair. A more rugged and feminine voice quickly followed, "Daisuke, no matter what happens, we love you very much, okay? Now run and don't look back!" The bewildered boy turned and sprinted as fast as his small frame and legs would allow across an open grass field. After covering some distance, he glanced over his shoulder only to witness a kunai lodged into his mother's neck, blood slowly trickling down, an audible gasp and splutter of blood going off, before her body crashed onto the grass.

"Reika! / Mom!" the son and father despaired.

"Kenseiken!" His father unleashed a furious scream, accompanied by a chilling killing intent that momentarily froze the opposing assailants in their tracks. In an instant, his kunai ignited into flames, and he sprinted toward the dozens of men scattered across the grassfield. In one moment his form seemed to flicker, before disappearing and reappearing behind one of the assailants. His crimson fire blade cut through his neck, before deflecting two incoming projectiles with two more assailants behind them. His speed remained true and his eyes burned hot red as he growled after every new kunai and shuriken lodged itself into his body. Soon his entire figure was filled with them, leaving him taking labored breaths as the assailants surrounded him. He locked his gaze with Daisuke for a moment, a slight tension around the corners and then a gentle smile.

Daisuke's gaze lingered on the fading figure of his father, rapidly receding into the distance, relentlessly pursued by their adversaries. As the dust settled, it unveiled the haunting image of his mother lying motionless on the grass. Igniting a surge of despair, Daisuke propelled himself into swift motion once more. Tears streamed down his features as he ran, each step etching more hurt into his heart and burning his legs.

After what seemed like an endless sprint, the young boy finally reached the edge of the field and plunged into a dense forest, where the trees stood thick and imposing. The pain that had been building within him overwhelmed the small boy, forcing him to collapse onto his knees. The frames of his parents' demise replayed relentlessly in his mind, unleashing a torrent of anguished sobs with his head tilted towards the rainy sky.

Clutching a small box tightly to his chest, the boy tumbled down as his despair and sadness slowly leaked out of him. Time continued to pass in a blur until a group of men suddenly descended from the trees, landing around the terrified boy. Each of them sported a headband adorned with an insignia of leaves and wore green flak jackets featuring a distinctive red swirling emblem on the back.

"Asuma, this kid," the black-haired man called out urgently, glancing at the emblem. "Were we too late?" The question hung in the air, prompting a frustrated nod and an audible exhale from the spiky-haired man. His tall, well-built frame seemed to bristle with tension. However, undeterred by the orange-haired kid's desperate plea to stay back, Asuma approached cautiously. "Stay back!" The child clutched a mysterious box, screaming in fear and anger. Ignoring the protest, the black-haired man commanded, "We'll have to take him with us and report back." The urgency of the situation pressed upon them as they prepared to depart.

Asuma approached the distressed orange-haired kid, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of understanding for the pain that seemed to emanate from the child. The spiky-haired man, empathizing with the fear etched across the young one's face, spoke with a soothing tone, "Hey, it's okay. We're not here to hurt you." His voice carried a genuine reassurance as he extended a comforting hand to ease the kid's evident anguish. Despite the desperate sobs and the tight grip on the mysterious box, Asuma continued. "We're here to help," he earnestly reassured, extending his hand in a gesture of trust. The sincerity in his words resonated, breaking through the walls of fear. Daisuke hesitated momentarily, then slowly grasped Asuma's outstretched hand, before suddenly dropping the box and wrapping his small arms around the man. A chill and shock surged within the spiky-haired ninja in response to the small child's visceral outcry and hurt. As he lifted the child, offering a sense of security, the little one tightly clung to him with all his strength.

Asuma nodded discreetly to one of his team members, silently instructing them to secure the small box. As the orders were conveyed, the team swiftly dispersed, blending seamlessly into the surroundings, leaving only lingering dust particles in their wake. The forest, once teeming with urgency and sorrow, now held an eerie stillness as the echoes of the young boy's cries lingered in the air.


An elderly man, his countenance weathered by the passage of time, calmly puffed on a pipe, exhaling wisps of smoke that danced in the air. Seated at a sturdy wooden table, a collection of documents carefully arranged before him, he exuded an air of seasoned wisdom. His skin, a lighter shade of brown, spoke of a life spent under the sun's watchful gaze, and his once-dark hair had embraced a distinguished shade of grey. The lines etched across his face bore witness to the countless experiences that had shaped him. In a deliberate and practiced manner, he began to shuffle through a stack of documents meticulously arranged on his cluttered table. The air hung heavy with anticipation as the soft glow of the lantern illuminated the room.

Suddenly, with a flicker akin to the swift dance of shadows, a group of silent Ninjas materialized before him. Their presence was as swift and seamless as the night itself, their faces still, and their eyes keenly focused on the elderly man. The room fell into a hushed stillness, and the elderly man's steady gaze met them.

"What news do you bring from Kakurekasa Isles?" the man prostrated himself.

"Kurotsume and Kagetsu clans have engaged in a full-blown war and while we monitored the situation we found a young boy whose parents were presumably killed in the conflict," Asuma reported as his features strained and twisted when he mentioned the young boy. This was not missed by the elderly man who slightly shifted himself forward with an inquiring look as he listened. "He held a small box in his person like his life depended on it and we have a reason to suspect that he might be someone of importance to the clans residing there. Given the circumstances, we felt it was wise to bring him into our village," Asuma finished with a sliver of weight in his voice that now spilled out enough to be visible in his eyes.

"And where is the boy now?"

"Staying with Kurenai," he quickly reported.

"Understood. The rest of you may take your leave. Asuma, a word before you leave," Hiruzen calmly nodded. The remnants of Asuma's team dissipated into the air, seamlessly blending with the unseen currents of chakra. Like specters vanishing into the shadows, each ninja flickered out of existence, leaving only a subtle disturbance in the air as evidence of their fleeting presence. A poignant silence settled over the room as father and son were face to face.

"Something is bothering you is it not?" Hiruzen calmly probed to which the spiky-haired Jounin remained

"Father, I wish to look after him," he declared, his resolute expression sending a shockwave through the elderly Hokage. He calmly inhaled smoke with his pipe before slowly releasing all of it while mulling his thoughts. "It is quite unlike you to request something of this magnitude," he mused, contemplating the implications.

"In that forsaken island, I finally grasped the meaning of your words—what it truly means to possess a will of fire and who we are protecting as ninjas," he declared, a flicker of fire blazing in his irises as he locked gazes with Hiruzen. In that poignant moment, the elderly father could only respond with a gentle smile.

"Very well, I can see that you have grown into a fine shinobi. The boy's paperwork will be done swiftly." The raven-haired man flickered and disappeared into the stillness of the night.


Asuma reached a modest apartment, where a vase of flowers adorned a specific window frame with precision. As he stood before the entrance, a spiky-haired man, he couldn't help but notice a subtle upward curve at the corner of his mouth. Swiftly, he entered, ascended the stairs, and arrived at a door. With a gentle knock, an immediate response followed. The door cracked open to reveal a pale, black-haired woman with a red-black eye, who fixed a stern gaze on him.

"You better provide a satisfactory explanation," she demanded firmly. However, the gravity and authority mirrored in Asuma's gaze made her recognize that something was awry. It was unlike his typical aloof demeanor.

"This is serious Kurenai," Asuma whispered as the two moved into the living room and kneeled opposite each other with their eyes firmly linked.

"The hurt and agony… I have never seen a boy in so much pain that he'd scream nearly the entire night before falling asleep. Asuma what the hell happened to him?" she questioned, her eyes now focused with a hint of strain and grit in her demeanor.

What followed was a long and demanding explanation that had the woman reeling from all the information. And at the end of it, she was left with more questions and answers. "Kagetsu and Kurotsume clans have always had a close bond with one another what changed? And why now of all times?" Kurenai questioned.

"Unfortunately our scouting efforts did not yield any meaningful insight into their internal politics. It was hard to observe them from distance let alone gain access to their village." The spiky-haired man calmly explained "None of us know what sparked the conflict and from my understanding, the Old man does not intend to find out. He declared the details surrounding the boy a high-rank secret and even permitted us to seal or even modify his memories should Yamanaka deem his mental state unst—" Asuma was quickly cut off.

"How can we even entertain such an idea? Not only has the boy lost everything he held hear, but we'd have his identity and heritage ripped away too. Asuma you can't be seriously considering this." Kurenai was now flared up, her eyes frowning in disillusion.

"I'm afraid we are left with limited options, and I prefer to withhold any judgment until we fully comprehend the extent of the boy's experiences and mental trauma," Asuma took a brief pause, adjusting his position. "At the moment, my primary focus is on the upbringing of the boy. I find myself uncertain whether I can manage it on my own or possess the necessary skills," he admitted. Kurenai's eyes widened in surprise as she gazed at the man, hearing words she never anticipated.

"Could you offer assistance?"


As Daisuke stirred from his slumber, the room enveloped him in an unfamiliar ambiance. The faint glow of dawn filtered through opaque curtains, casting an ethereal glow on the futon where he had rested. Battling the grogginess, he rose from the comfortable embrace of the sheets and ventured out into an open space that seemed to be a confluence of a kitchen and a living room. The seamless transition between the two areas caught him off guard as he surveyed the room's design. It was in this moment of exploration that he discovered a peculiar figure at the room's heart – a raven-haired woman knelt in quiet contemplation, and in front of her before kneeled a man with dark spiky hair, their hands entwined and their gazes filled with warmth.

The dazed boy, Daisuke, took a quiet step back, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. Before he could fully retreat into the shadows, a voice cut through the air, shattering the silence that enveloped him. "We know you were watching us, kid. Can't trick a ninja that way," Asuma declared with a tone that carried a blend of authority and amusement.

In the past couple of years, Daisuke found an unexpected home with Asuma and Kurenai. Despite the recent permanence of the dark-haired woman's residency, the trio's bond quickly evolved into something resembling a family. The orange-haired boy held deep gratitude for the spiky-haired man who adopted him. Understanding that he was abandoned by his village and had his memories erased before being found by Asuma. The initial sadness and sense of being unwanted lingered. However, the swift display of affection by the Jonin duo quickly dispelled all doubts.

Daisuke gingerly walked up to the spiky-haired man with a grumble as the pair observed the boy with a slightly amused look in their eyes before Asuma found himself chuckling. "Maybe you'll do better next time kid. Now hurry up before you miss out on your first day at the academy."

Daisuke adorned himself in a sleeveless black vest paired with matching pants and the customary standard-issue boots that ninjas had become accustomed to. Despite his height falling within the average range for his age, the young ninja's physique boasted a slightly broader build, imparting an unexpected sense of solidity to his frame. While his facial features retained subtle hints of softness, a discernibly well-defined jawline could be observed on closer inspection. Moving noiselessly through the bustling crowd, Daisuke inadvertently elicited curiosity and perhaps a touch of amusement from onlookers. The combination of his distinctive attire and unique physique drew attention to the young ninja-to-be.

Before long, the youth stumbled upon something that sent a chill down his spine. A yellow-haired boy sporting a pair of green goggles and an orange-sleeveless hoodie occupied a swing tethered to a tree branch near the academy entrance. Meanwhile, parents bid farewell to their children, consistently muttering the same phrase under their breaths, "Demon brat," spoken with such unwavering conviction and hatred that Daisuke found it difficult to fathom. It was perplexing to witness such intense disdain directed at a fellow villager, especially a young boy. The yellow-haired boy, seemingly puzzled, kept his gaze fixed on the grass beneath his feet as the children slowly made their way inside.

The orange-haired boy surveyed the scene before clenching his teeth and casually strolling over to the whiskered boy, hands tucked in his pockets. "Hey, what's up? Why aren't you going in?" he inquired, causing the yellow-haired boy to slowly tilt his head. His clear cerulean eyes met Daisuke's.

"What's the point anyways? No one wants me around," he sighed dejectedly before pushing himself off the swing. Slipping his hands into his pockets and slowly left as his gaze drilled into the sandy terrain beneath them.

The orange-spiky-haired boy was taken aback by the response and the blank look in the boy's eyes. Loneliness, sadness, and anguish were evident, yet there was no trace of anger or hatred. It left the youth perplexed, but he chose to set aside those thoughts for the moment, calmly proceeding towards the academy building.

Entering a hallway. Near its end awaited a classroom designated for him and a man with brown hair and a distinct scar on the bridge of his nose made his entrance. The man cast a glance in the orange-haired boy's direction, acknowledging his presence. "Ah, Kagetsu, right on time. My name is Iruka Umino. I'll be your teacher for the remaining 3 years," the teacher remarked with a nod of approval. He entered the classroom without further delay, leaving the door slightly ajar. Inside, he began addressing students taking note of participation. He called names one by one until he went quiet for a moment and frowned. "Naruto?" the teacher called once and then pinched the bridge of his nose with a frustrated groan. It was a quick and snappy reaction that came to an end when he gestured towards the orange-haired boy.

"Children, we welcome a new transfer student who will be joining our class for the remainder of your time in the academy," Iruka announced, directing everyone's attention toward Daisuke. As the nonchalant, boy strolled into the room, surrounded by his fellow students, many observed him with curiosity, some whispering to each other. One student, in particular, cast a cold and scrutinizing gaze upon him. With slightly spiky, black hair that freely hung down, partially covering his eyes, he exuded a brooding presence. Next to on both of his sides sat two pretty girls, one with long silver blonde hair and a girl with clear pink hair. Both of them seemingly stared at the brooding youth without breaking their gazes.

"My name is Daisuke Kagetsu. I hope we'll get along well," he politely introduced himself, though most students appeared indifferent to the newcomer. Glancing across the classroom, he could see a chubby boy eating chips in quick succession while another boy peacefully slept, his head against the table. "Interesting bunch of kids," Daisuke thought to himself internally. Undeterred, he made his way to the back, securing the only available seat next to a pale blue-haired girl who sat deep in thought, nervously pressing her fingers together.

Upon closer inspection, the girl's hair was short, framing a slender visage with a fair complexion. Seated slightly hunched, her soft lavender eyes seemed blank and unfocused. There seemed to be a sliver of moisture on them, creating a glint that for a moment drew the dazed youth's attention. Filled with concern, he leaned in and gently whispered, "Hey, are you okay?" The girl snapped out of her trance, and their gazes locked—pale lavender meeting fiery red. At that moment, the blue-haired girl stuttered, "I-I am okay." It became evident that she carried a reserved and shy demeanor. Yet, an unexplained curiosity stirred within the orange-haired boy, as if he was captivated by the enigma that surrounded the girl. According to Asuma blue-haired youth's eyes bore the bloodline limit of the Hyuga clan—one of the village's most notable. This unique ability granted its users unparalleled vision, allowing them to see chakra pathways, long distances, and, most crucially, a complete 360 degrees around them.

The day unfolded at a leisurely pace, marked by an absence of notable events. Daisuke discovered that he could easily navigate the day's curriculum, a feat made possible by the meticulous preparation work undertaken by Asuma and Kurenai during their moments away from missions and daily responsibilities. Despite their demanding roles, the Jonin duo spared precious time to equip Daisuke with the essential knowledge and skills needed for his education. Asuma, in particular, dedicated himself to training Daisuke in Taijutsu and the fundamentals of chakra molding, utilizing every available moment to impart his expertise. Even with their scarce time, the duo's commitment ensured the youth's smooth integration into the academy's routines and challenges.


As the day in the academy began ending, the students began slowly leaving the academy. The masses of students walk in the halls and through the exit. Daisuke followed in the back before something caught his eye; the blue-haired girl from earlier was walking toward the forest located next to the academy. Curiosity grabbed the orange-haired boy by the gut and he immediately relented and began tailing the girl to see what she was up to. Hinata with Daisuke tailing from a little distance away would make their way deep into the forest and eventually make it to a little opening where the yellow-haired boy was releasing punch after punch at a tree with no real pattern or rhyme to it; just raw visceral violence targeted at a tree as if he was releasing something he had kept within him.

The blue-haired girl had remained hidden between one of the trees merely observing the boy with a little glint in her lavender eyes. Daisuke quietly approached the girl making an audible noise to alert her to his presence. The girl in a surprise nearly opened her mouth to scream but was immediately muffled by the orange-haired boy who kept a finger on his lips. "Sorry about that. I don't want to alert him."

"W-why did you follow me?" the girl probed.

Daisuke responded with a wry smile, "Let's just say I was curious about your sudden venture into the forest, and there you were, staring at him." He pointed toward the yellow-haired boy in the distance.

"I-i wasn't stalking."

"I see. Is he your friend?"

"N-No."

"You must admit this seems a little susp–"

"B-But I want to be," the blue-haired girl blurted out, surprised by her admission to a boy she had just met that day. Something had compelled her to share this with him, yet she lamented her lack of bravery when it came to talking to Naruto. "I see. Then all you need to do is talk to him, right? Why aren't you?" the orange-haired boy mused, prompting the blue-haired girl to slightly tilt her head down. "I'm a-afraid he'd think I'm weird o-or maybe–," her voice barely above a whisper choked, the stutter momentarily getting the better of her.

Daisuke remained silent, encouraging her to continue. "I am not strong like him. W-why would he talk to a f-failure like me?" she finally managed to confess, and at that moment, Daisuke frowned. He did not know what had broken the blue-haired youth's spirit and confidence to this degree. All he could feel at that moment was unadulterated sadness for the girl.

"It's okay to be afraid, to have doubts. Being strong doesn't mean you're not scared of those things happening; it means you accept them and fight anyway," the orange-haired boy pointed to the yellow-haired boy. "Undoubtedly, he is afraid too. Terrified even, and yet here he is working his butt off to achieve his goals." Daisuke patted his chest with his fist, grinning widely as he delivered the words that left the girl agape. "You can be brave too, okay? And you can start by taking the hardest, the most meaningful step here and now," he gestured to the yellow-haired boy.

The girl with blue hair hesitated for a moment, letting his words sink in. "I- can't–," she gasped, her gaze now fixed on the grass beneath them. A gentle hand patted her head, and a whisper cut through the air, "Yes, you can," uttered the orange-haired youth. Time seemed to stretch for the blue-haired girl, enveloped in an indescribable warmth. She tilted her head upwards to see a warm grin that unlike the cold demeanor of her father or the boisterous attitude displayed by the yellow-haired youth was filled with unconditional kindness and care.

Something in the orange-haired youth had compelled her to speak, and now his actions encouraged her. As she ventured beyond the tree's cover, her legs faltered, and she stole a puzzled glance back at Daisuke. He signaled for her to continue, offering an encouraging nod.

Soon, the shy girl closed the distance to the yellow-haired boy and called out to him. At first, the whiskered boy appeared perplexed, but gradually, a warm aura enveloped them. Though unable to discern the details of their conversation, Daisuke observed a genuine smile on Naruto's face and noticed a blush on the blue-haired girl, indicating that everything had gone well. Satisfied, he swiftly propelled himself into the air, gracefully landing on a sturdy tree branch. From there, he seamlessly traversed from one branch to another, his movements graceful and precise.

Feeling the rush of air around him and the expanse of the blue sky with peacefully drifting white clouds, Daisuke absorbed the serene moment. The vibrant greenery beneath him transformed swiftly into an urban landscape dominated by towering buildings. Without hesitation, the orange-haired boy took to the rooftops, swiftly navigating the village with agile bounds.