"I think that we should hire him as my retainer." Kureigu declared.

The Hyūga head narrowed his eyes. "I do not see the point in that" he responded deliberately, "and I have my doubts about your impression of the boy."

"You told me once that the Hyūga used to always bring in retainers to protect the clan heirs, back before the ninja villages were founded. Weren't you sooo worried about my safety yesterday? I mean, that kid's already defended me once."

Truthfully, it was almost pure coincidence that Kureigu recalled that particular bit of clan history as he tended to space out during his father's lectures. The only reason he remembered that the Hyūga once hired retainers was because it had been previously brought up to him by Batāzu, of all people, during one of their breaks at the Academy.

Kureigu's father furrowed his brow before replying, which the boy took as a sign that he was at least giving the notion some thought. "The retainer position is outdated, Kureigu. The branch family took over that responsibility generations ago. We must increase our vigilance, but I am not willing to outsource that protection over one incident."

Two pairs of pale orbs locked in on the other as the Hyūga patriarch and his son deadlocked in an unspoken staring contest. Kureigu initially interpreted his father's gaze as a challenge, assertively staring back to meet the look. However, as the seconds dragged on, the boy found that he could not read whether the man's expression was actually hostile or in earnest. He decided to continue making his case either way.

"Think of it this way, Father: it would be good practice for when my time comes to lead the clan. If I am going to be responsible for a lot of people when I'm in charge, then this seems like a good place to start."

"I see the points you are making," the man replied purposefully, "but there is far too much we do not know about the boy. My answer is no for now; when the broader picture is clear I will give it some consideration. Assuming, of course, that your supposed defender is not detained after his questioning."

While his face betrayed little emotion, Kureigu felt that the conversation had gone better than he had expected it to. Having little more to add to his points, he decided to hold his tongue and wait for the evaluation from T&I.

/

With the Mind Transmission jutsu underway, Yamanaka Inoichi began parsing through the life of the boy called Tweek. Given the age of and lack of background information surrounding the target, the cognitive interloper elected to start from the boy's earliest memories. Although the Mind Transmission could reveal memories forgotten by the technique's target, the hazy recollections from this era were still few and far between. In spite of this, the ninja did not search long before making a major discovery .

The "picture" was blurred around the edges of the vision, but he could clearly make out that the young boy was playing at home in a humble dwelling. Despite Tweek being the point of view, no shakes or jolts interrupted the flow of the memory.

A woman with light brown hair came into and out of frame continuously. She occasionally engaged with the child, but for the most part kept to her own affairs. A bit of time passed before a man with curly brown hair burst hurriedly into the abode, immediately escorting the woman into another room. Although the boy did not make out the adults' back-and-forth whispers from his position, the clear agitation of the man made it evident that some great event had occurred— or perhaps befallen them. He motioned to the child several times, piquing the boy's interest, but Tweek did not move closer.

Although he did not realize in the moment, the boy's life had irrevocably changed the second that the hushed huddle was broken. The two adults scurried through the house like ants, here and there gathering small things and hastily packing them up. In just a few minutes they had left their dwelling and were traveling on the open road, but not before taking the precious last possession.

Tweek was small enough to be carried easily by the woman, while the man bore most of their packings. The boy could not understand why the two were acting as they were, nor did either of them reply to the simple questions which hurried out of the child's mouth.

As they moved down the road the trio was soon accompanied by a loose collection of people, the number of which seemed to increase with each settlement or dwelling they passed by. Most of the coalescing crowd looked to be in similar shape to Tweek's party, haphazardly dressed and owning no more than what they were able to carry. Some groups had taken pets along with them, either carried on their shoulders or walking alongside, and one lucky family had pack animals.

At some point Inoichi saw a pod of six to seven blurs pass overhead in the treeline. Based on their reactions, he believed that no one in the memory's "present" had taken notice.

Eventually, the forest cleared and the human tide crested in sight of a great ravine. There was a tremendous bridge that spanned the chasm, whose majesty was marred by myriad explosions up and down the length of the overpass. Numerous clashes of hypersonic intensity played out, only fully perceived by the Mnemonic foreigner. Perfectly understood by the civilians were the aftermaths of the small conflicts: fireballs burst out, imperceptibly-fast projectiles whizzed above their heads, and the earth itself shifted and shook.

The disorderly nature of the crowd precluded an easy reversal of momentum. The skirmishes drew closer as the civilian company struggled to start their retreat. As the bottleneck finally began to clear the crowd was assailed by horrid noises; lives were ceased with no more ceremony than a wet thunk as stray knives met unintended targets.

The boy, now on the ground, was overwhelmed with the primal instinct of flight and took off alongside the panicked mob.

Repressed since by the child and unheard by the larger crowd, the intruder alone recorded the two nearby thunks which sounded out that day.

/

Back in the physical world, the ninja's grip on the boy momentarily loosened. Naomi opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it; something in her comrade's expression discouraged her. An instant passed, and then another. Finally, her companion broke the stillness, speaking while he resumed his hold on Tweek.

"Date of birth unknown, homeland looks to be near Kusagakure based on local vegetation. Civilian upbringing. Separated from caregivers during a shinobi battle; subject's age at the time suggests Third Great War. Current estimated age: 10-13 years."

Without waiting for his partner's response the man dove back into the orphan's mind.

/

Expert practitioners of the Mind Transfer could hasten the information gathering process tremendously, scouring huge swaths of the target's memories rapidly and pinpointing the most crucial information for closer analysis. The present man was only moderately proficient at the technique, knowledgeable in a few areas but locked out of the most skillful applications of the jutsu. By single-mindedly honing in on certain criteria, he could hasten through many months of the child's life far, far faster than when they had been lived.

Even at whirlwind pace, the Leaf ninja could make out that the bridge skirmish's aftermath for the boy was a stream of various camps, vagrant settlements, transient lodgings, and occasionally chance protectors: a mouse living on the outskirts, only acting out in the open when predators were nowhere to be found.

Such events were not the target of the man's methodology, however. They were formative for sure, but the moment he was looking for was an inflection point, an instant in time which would mark a fundamental shift in the child's entire life.

Inoichi pressed faster on, compressing months into minutes, until finally he discovered the scene he sought after, the scene which promised to shed light on the most pressing questions of his investigation. He had found the moment when Tweek had first manipulated his chakra in combat.

The scene opened midway through the action; the ninja could vicariously feel the pain and exhaustion Tweek had already accrued in the fight. Tweek molded his chakra primitively, merely using it to increase his physical speed in order to avoid an attacker's blow. He was fighting a single opponent who was significantly, but not grossly, larger than himself. Despite the size difference, the other boy appeared to be not far off in age from the mousy blond.

Inoichi took a little while to notate the showdown's surroundings. The untiled floor was surrounded by a compact circular wall uninterrupted by any decoration or door. He estimated the space to be perhaps one-third the radius of the fighting arena back in the Hidden Leaf, and the wall was noticeably shorter than the one back home. Surprisingly to the shinobi, both venues seemed to serve similar functions as he noticed a significant number of onlookers peering down on the fight from the raised floor beyond the wall. The crowd hollered and yelled at the match, but their words were indecipherable to the ninja; he could not glean much information about the audience beyond the basics. After all, Tweek was his frame of reference, and Tweek was far more preoccupied with the red-faced, red-haired ruffian before him.

Shifting his attention back to the fight, the shinobi observed that the battle was playing out similarly to how he had left it off. The rufous rival doggedly swung at his elusive opponent, frustration evident on his face as he failed to connect with his frail target time and time again. Tweek, for his part, seldomly applied chakra into his evasions and only when the speed was absolutely necessary to avoid a blow from his opponent.

The other boy's punches and jabs were flying increasingly close to Tweek's face and torso, drawing jeers and jibes from the crowd with each tantalizingly near miss. The ninja was certain that Tweek was playing some sort of long game— his movements and chakra usage were clearly not random— but with each dodge he could feel the boy's stamina draining away. As his energy ebbed, carelessness started to flow.

Quickly the red haired boy stepped forward with conviction, the openings of a right hook bringing immediate threat to Tweek's left side. Without hesitation the smaller boy pivoted his back foot in preparation of a quick jump up and to his right, his mind operating merely a hair ahead of his base instincts as Tweek struggled to keep up with the rigors of combat. Each minute of the fight demanded numerous split-second decisions from the boy, each of which came with potentially massive consequences to his efforts. In a moment of clarity Tweek realized that his opponent's right hook had in fact been a feint all along, but he was too far into his leap to be able to change his direction. As Tweek started to launch himself into the air, his opponent quickly sidestepped in the same direction, earning himself enough time to catch the wiry blond in midair with a jarring lariat.

A guttural noise escaped Tweek's lips as his opponent's arm crashed into his neck, violently curbing his momentum. His unimpeded lower half continued its trajectory, however, causing the boy to flip heels-over-head as he fell off of the outstretched limb onto the firm ground below. The crowd's roars at the long-awaited thumping were lost on the boy in the ring, who was desperately hanging onto consciousness. Spots swam into Tweek's vision as he lay on his stomach, barely able to process the blow he'd received in the midst of the continued fight. Miraculously, he managed to instinctively roll himself over right before the follow-up attack, scarcely avoiding a sandal to the back of his head. For his efforts, Tweek managed to get back up onto his feet and facing his enemy, albeit in a significantly hunched stance. The red-haired boy charged one final time upon seeing his vulnerable position.

As his competitor rushed closer, Tweek opted for evasion yet again, this time with one curious variation. Rather than dodge to the right or to the left, as he had been doing, Tweek instead chose to go upwards and over his challenger. Barely clearing the living hurdle and narrowly avoiding a grab, Tweek managed to land almost directly behind his opponent without further harm. He had even unintentionally pushed the other boy forward during the maneuver, whose momentum now carried him on a fast track to the approaching wall.

Inoichi experienced the boy turn around and rocket himself forward almost immediately, using up more of his chakra than at any point in the fight previously. Despite his small frame, the speed of his shoulder charge smashed his foe into the wall, stunning the other boy momentarily. Swiftly, Tweek reached up and took hold of the crown with both hands. Using what little strength he had left, the wiry boy shoved the other's head forward into the stone. He repeated the act once more before stumbling, dropping his crimson rival in the process.

/

To the future head of the Hyūga Clan, waiting wasn't the worst thing in the world. Waiting sucked, but it was manageable: you get it over with, and then you get to do whatever it was you actually wanted to do. It was simple.

No, it was not the act of waiting that had Kureigu so fed up at the moment, but rather the sheer amount of it that he'd had to put up with recently. Apart from the episode in the forest, the rest of the nearly two week trip was as boring as any other diplomatic mission he'd been on. Not even reaching Tanzaku Quarters had brought relief, as the clan heir was forced to endure drawn-out farewell ceremonies as the company formally split. The pale eyed boy wanted little more than to be able to hang out with his friends Tōrukin and Kuraido again, even if he would never admit it to the two.

Although he had pledged not to get too invested in the twitchy urchin's fate, Kureigu found himself outside of a nondescript office in the city, anticipating his father's decision with as much patience as he could muster. The lack of distractions afforded by the trip had given Kureigu ample opportunities to think over the potential outcomes of the interrogation, regardless of if he had particularly sought to or not.

Whether out of genuine curiosity or merely a desire to end the episode for good and get back home faster, the Hyūga prince put up with just a little more waiting.

Around an hour after he had entered, Kureigu's father finally emerged from the inconspicuous hideout. His countenance was akin to a manuscript written in an unknown language, where the characters and strokes are clearly present but their significance untold. It betrayed not even the slightest emotions or sentiments, the thoughts and emotions present wholly unreadable; it was the face of a true shinobi. Kureigu caught the man's gaze, returning a mostly blank expression of his own. While his face was not as unreadable as his father's, the boy was undoubtedly beyond his years in his ability to shroud his emotions.

The gray-robed figure broke the silence, speaking deliberately and reservedly. "It would appear that the child was a victim of… unfortunate circumstances. There was nothing malicious in the boy's presence in the forest."

Kureigu exhaled, using every last bit of effort not to snicker at the admission. He'd been fucking right, even if the old man wouldn't say it outright.

"Earlier, you requested of me to hire the boy as your retainer; I have given your proposal considerable thought. I'm telling you this because I do not want you to feel as though I have decided unfairly."

There it is.

Sorry kid, can't say I'm too surprised though. Fuck, we'd have been on the way home an hour ago if I'd just kept quiet and—

"I have sent a letter ahead to the village. As long as he clears their criteria and another background search, I anticipate that they will allow him to enter our employ."

Kureigu's mask broke while his father's remained. Bewilderment was evident on the prince's face, even as his voice remained as even-keeled as ever. "Wait, what?"

"Don't interrupt, Kureigu. I was not finished yet. There are several conditions to this arrangement, and they are non-negotiable. Firstly, he will be marked with the same seal as the branch family. While the intent of this hiring is for your development as a leader, I have final authority concerning the boy. I trust I have made myself clear on this point, as I will not be offering any reminders.

"Secondly, I believe that he will need to enroll in the Academy in order to act as your retainer, and you will be responsible for ensuring his timely graduation. If he does not become a genin at the same time you do, the consequences will fall squarely on your shoulders. I think you will find his combat skills to be the less worrisome part of his learning… He has no formal schooling, but a modest education nonetheless. Don't give me that look, Kureigu, this was your request. Accept the consequences gracefully.

"Thirdly, your first obligation is to find the boy and catch up to the rest of us on the road. T&I released him approximately two hours ago, by the way. I still expect your presence at dinner tonight; we'll be staying at the Waxing Moon inn. Good luck."

The pale-eyed child took a moment to process all of the information given to him. While he figured that there would be strings attached if his father approved, the academic requirement threw him for a loop. I'm not a damn tutor, what does he expect me to do? You better be a quick learner… whoever you are.

Did I seriously not get his name yet?

By this point the elder Hyūga had already begun walking away from the conversation. "Wait!" Kureigu called, catching his father's attention before he was lost in the crowds of passersby. "It'll be easier to find him if I have his name. They had to have told you that, right?"

At his son's words, the gray-robed man's frigid visage melted into a smart-assed smile. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" he chimed, before turning away once more.

Kureigu took to the rooftops in search of the soon-to-be hired help, grumbling to himself as he did so. Even with the Byakugan's help it would be difficult to locate a single stranger out of everyone in town, assuming that he was even still in the city. Kureigu did not believe that the boy would have left Tanzaku Quarters, but the thought of tracking the boy down in the open bothered him. The thought crossed his mind to concede and return to his dad alone if his search got to that point, but for now his focus was on the town itself.

He paused for a moment on the rooftop, trying to come up with a plan for the task ahead. A shitty search method would simply waste more of his precious time, which was the last thing he wanted. In a distant, sweeping viewpoint, his target's only really noticeable attribute would be the mess of untamed yellow hair atop his head. He'd probably stick out more to closer eyewitnesses, but that wouldn't really help Kureigu anyway. Even if they remembered seeing the twitchy vagabond, no one in the city would bother to find out his business. There was nothing in Tanzaku Quarters for the boy.

Maybe he would leave town after all? Shit, how long would it take him to get to the gate from here?

…

He'd probably get lost on the way, wouldn't he?

Kureigu decided to head for the city exit first. There had to be some official or watchman who could tell him if the hyperactive tramp had been seen there or not, so at least he'd know whether to search inside or outside the city. As he made his way across the rooftops towards Tanzaku's central gate, Kureigu brought his Byakugan to life. While he hoped to catch a flash of spiky yellow en route to the entryway, he also kept an eye out for any commotion or disturbance in the town. The mountain boy was still a wild card to Kureigu, and he did not put it past him to cause a scene.

Soon after activating the dōjutsu, Kureigu noticed that someone was trailing him around the edges of his vision. One of his clanmates was keeping up with him from the ground, not making any particular effort to conceal her presence. The supervision was not surprising to the Hyūga heir, but was insulting nonetheless.

Kureigu made it to the gate without incident, albeit slower than he had expected to. The streets were not mobbed, but still lively, and he'd overestimated how fast he could travel without losing track of all the passersby. There was a decent amount of open space in front of the exit, with a row of stalls forming a border across from the gate.

Describing his target to the guard on duty confirmed Kureigu's suspicions that the other boy had not left town. He thanked the man disingenuously and asked the guard to stop the kid from leaving if he showed up to the gate after Kureigu had departed. Even though the watchman had never even met the boy in question, the young Hyūga was not surprised when he accepted the request. He found it absurd how much fine clothes and having the right name could manipulate adults, but he certainly would not complain this time.

What Kureigu did want to complain about, however, was the fact that he still had barely any idea where the twitchy idiot was and no good way to track him. He exhaled melodramatically. I can't search the whole damn city all at once, and if I go section by section he might move somewhere I've already looked and then I'd be screwed. Gotta think logically here, what type of place would he be likely to go to?

… I actually have no idea how to answer that. Hell, has he even been in a city like this before?

"Excuse me," the watchman said politely, but Kureigu was too deep in his own thoughts to notice.

This would be so much easier if I had a dog or something that could track him by smell, although I guess I don't have anything with his scent on it. Probably for the best, actually… I don't remember seeing too many changes of clothes in that shack he was sleeping in…

"Excuse me, sir," the guard said again, slightly louder this time but no less ignored.

What the fuck does Dad even expect me to do here? Is this some sort of dumb training exercise for me? The Byakugan can't look at the whole goddamn city at once, does he expect me to just keep searching until I run into him? And then he has the balls to tell me to be back by dinnertime? This is really pissing me o—

"HEY DIPSHIT!" yelled one of the watchman's companions, frustrated at the scene before her. The Hyūga heir turned at the insult, shooting the offending woman a withering glare, the kind which leaves no uncertainty that an explanation better come, and that it better come fast.

"Isn't that the kid you were talking about?" she said, pointing past Kureigu and across the clearing. He reluctantly turned his head in the direction she marked, and was dumbfounded to see that the woman was right. Sure enough, there the boy was, slowly approaching the gate in his usual agitated manner.

Tweek's arms flung back and forth rapidly, as if drying his hands without a towel. When his arms weren't wildly gesticulating, they were tugging roughly at the neck of his tunic. Once or twice he did neither, time which Tweek used to grab clumps of his own hair and pull violently. He periodically dodged and ducked his body, usually to get out of the way of other passersby, although occasionally he swerved to avoid nothing apparent, like there was some unseen threat known only to the boy himself. As he drew closer it became apparent that he was speaking, or perhaps muttering to himself. The pale-eyed boy across the space held an unreadable expression as he took in the act before him.

Kureigu turned back towards the woman, thanked her, flipped her off, and pivoted again in the direction of Tweek, not in that order. Since the watchman's booth was situated off to the side of the wide entryway and burrowed in the circular wall, the Hyūga boy closed the distance horizontally more so than he did vertically. The primary effect of this was that his target remained wholly oblivious to his advance, even as Kureigu stopped just ahead and to the side of the approaching Tweek. Tweek, for his part, was absorbed in his own world, nearly walking past Kureigu before the robed boy reached out and grabbed him by his right wrist.

"AH! Oh gods!" Tweek exploded at the sudden hold, twisting his arm every which way in the hopes of getting loose. "What does everybody want with me all of a sudden? I don't know anything! Gods, they're gonna get me!"

"Dude, relax," Kureigu said, but in the midst of the other's mania his words fell on deaf ears. "Can you just… dude, stop that… calm down, ok… Can you shut up for a goddamn second?"

The last question finally succeeded in bringing the rambling to a halt. His attention grabbed, Tweek stared incredulously at the other boy, staying focused on Kureigu despite rapidly blinking eye-to-eye.

"Gah! It's you," Tweek said dumbly. His relative calm did not last long, however. "What are you doing here? Why did you ah— grab my wrist? Did I do something wrong? Ah! Jeez! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

"If you'd be quiet, and actually stay that way, I'll tell you why I'm here, stupid," Kureigu said matter-of-factly. The captive boy closed his mouth and listened, his usual tremors reduced to a minimum. Once Kureigu was satisfied that there'd be no more outbursts, he continued. "I stopped you here because I want to offer you a job."

Tweek's eyes ballooned out at the offer, stretching the tight skin around his temples. Confusion was more than evident on his face. "A job…? But I've never had a job before!"

"I figured," Kureigu stated, his flat voice contrasting with the other's shrill cries.

"What kind of job?"

"You would be my retainer."

"Wha-a-a-t's that?"

"It's kind of like a bodyguard, but you'd also have to do other shit I ask you to. Sometimes. Oh, and you'd probably have to go to school."

"That sounds like a ton of pressure… hah! I don't know, man…" Tweek trailed off, shutting his eyes tightly. Face scrunched, he looked like a young child trying to prove to their playmate that they weren't peeking.

By this point, Kureigu realized that he was still grabbing the other boy's arm. He dropped the limb semi-emphatically before shrugging.

"It's your call, dude," Kureigu replied nonchalantly. In the back of his mind, he did wonder what would happen if he told his dad that the boy had refused the offer. At least he'd be telling the truth, right? "But, like, what else are you going to do? Where were you even gonna go after leaving the city?"

Tweek rubbed his right wrist absentmindedly, his shakes mostly absent save for seldom, sudden jerks. He stared at the ground ahead, avoiding the gaze of twin milky orbs. "I'm— nnngh— not sure where."

"You're not sure," Kureigu repeated bluntly. "You're leaving town and you don't have any idea where to go?" Tweek glanced up sheepishly at the question, his silence providing the Leaf Village boy his answer. "That's really dumb."

"There's too many people in this city! It's hard to think here," Tweek protested. "I was gonna go outside where it's less crowded."

The Hyūga boy turned away from his prospective retainer towards the open gateway. He looked up for a moment, noting the sun's position in the sky. "Well, I'm heading out. You're free to go… wherever, I guess."

"No! No… I want the job. Ah! I think."

"Didn't you just say you can't think here?" Kureigu retorted, turning back as he did so.

"Yes, but no! I mean no, but not, I mean," Tweek flailed. He tugged on his tunic hard, as if he was trying to drag himself by the neck. Kureigu briefly wondered how the kid hadn't already torn the flimsy-looking brown fabric. "Ugh! It's complicated… but I've made my decision! I'll take the job."

Kureigu stayed silent a second or two, taking in the boy before him once more before responding. "Alright. We'll have to go kinda fast to catch up to my family. You can do that, right?"

"I… I think so."

"Good. Oh yeah… almost forgot. What's your name?"

/

In the evening comfort of his modest rented room, Hyūga Tōma sat. He grinded away an inkstick of his own creation against a small stone, a process which greatly appealed to him. Ink-making was an orderly endeavor; the quality of a stick varied in predictable ways depending on how the soot and adhesive were combined. What he valued so dearly about the practice of creating ink, however, was that within the orderly framework lay a vast realm of possibilities. The simple act of grinding the stick with water could be endlessly adjusted and tweaked to bring about whichever attributes in the ink he desired. Tōma often fixated on the minute differences in the concentration and tint and strove to accentuate those details in his works. On occasion he would even utilize his Byakugan as he made his ink, subtly altering the black substance in ways that would go unappreciated by the unaided eye.

Evening was one of Tōma's favorite times for doing calligraphy, as he enjoyed taking a reprieve between the burdens of the day and the social obligations of supper. The duties and expectations laid upon him as the front of the Hyūga Clan were onerous, although they became more manageable with experience. Fatherhood, in contrast, did not seem to come any easier to him even as the years went by.

There was no blueprint for how to raise children properly, no instruction manual he could follow to ensure his kids grew up well-adjusted and prepared to handle their lot in life. Parenting was not orderly or predictable like his inks, and mistakes in child rearing could not be fixed by stopping and starting the process over again. For as much thought as he put in on how best to handle Kureigu and Rubī, Tōma felt that he simply second-guessed himself as often as he came to a helpful conclusion, possibly even more frequently.

Tōma was further frustrated by the lack of clear metrics of success. He confided with his wife and conversed with close friends, but when all was said and done there would be no neat, little box to check that would confirm if he'd been a good parent. It was even hard to draw takeaways from the things he'd already done; if Rubī came out different in some way than Kureiga had, who could say which was preferable?

The clan head gave a soft sigh, barely mindful of the fact that he'd long since finished grinding the ink and had started adorning the pale, white paper. The man took a moment to re-firm himself; it would do no good to act without purpose. Tōma just hoped that he had made the right decision back in Tanzaku Quarters.

It was a few minutes from dinnertime when Tōma heard a familiar gait approaching in the hallway, followed by a familiar person in the doorway. He looked up at his son before addressing him.

"Yes, Kureigu?"

"I'm back. Hoheto let me know where Tweek's staying tonight. Did you have dinner yet?"

"Not yet."

"Cool. See you then" Kureigu deadpanned before taking his leave.

Tōma's stare lingered at the doorway for a moment or two before he started to pack up his work. While putting the various tools and materials away, each in their proper place, his mind wandered to the report he'd received from T&I earlier that day. Over the decades Tōma had become intimately familiar with the tolls and devastation of war, but even the cruelty of the shinobi world had not left his heart entirely immovable. He did not denounce his decision to bring the poor boy in for investigation— nothing in his mind took precedence over the safety of his family— but he did bemoan the circumstances that had spurred his hand. As he continued to recollect the earlier briefing, the tail end of the story played back in his mind.

"... which brings us to the day of the incident. The two boys noticed each other when your group entered the village, but your son is actually the one who first initiated face-to-face contact later on," said the blond shinobi, a man whom Tōma did not know personally, but recognized as belonging to the Yamanaka's ranks.

"Kureigu did?" Tōma questioned in a neutral manner.

"Correct. Although it seems that his main intent was to get a rise out of Tweek."

"Ah. That explains it, then," Tōma said airily. His tone was intended to be in jest, but he did not change his stoic expression. Slightly confused, the younger man brushed off the response and continued his recounting.

"After your son left, Tweek was approached by the missing-nin. No previous contact with the ninja. Tweek's actually the one who tipped him off that there was a Hyūga boy about… not intentionally, of course. The boy could not name any Leaf Village clans before all of this. Once the Stone-nin left, Tweek followed after him."

"Now, why would he do that?" interjected Tōma. "From what you have told me the boy is not the type to willingly put himself in the way of things. What spurred him to chase down someone like that?"

The corners of the Yamanaka's mouth curled ever so slightly upwards as he gave his answer. "Guilt, apparently. Your boy had given him food before he split, and Tweek felt awful about letting Kureigu's presence slip to the other ninja."

"Kureigu did that?" Tōma questioned, as much to himself as to the man across from him.

"Yes, sir. Probably saved his own life in the end, too."

By the time he stopped reminiscing, Tōma had finished gathering his various instruments and packing them away for the next day's journey. He left the room, heading towards the little roadside restaurant that was attached to the inn. While Tōma was by no means late to the family meal, a few of his clanmates had already seated themselves around the table, including his son. A simple thought passed through his mind as he took his own place at the head of the group.

Perhaps everything will work out in the end.