Nestled in a flat forest in the shadow of a short mountain range, the town of Tanzaku Quarters was renowned as a center of gratification in the Land of Fire. Much of its notoriety came from very certain types of establishments— various gambling halls, taverns, and brothels dotted the small city's layout— but the town also was known for its lively festivals and joyous celebrations. Even now, although there were no festivals running, the town undeniably possessed a genial spirit within its walls. In the streets children raced from stall to stall scanning the wares, here and there spending whatever small savings they had accrued. In the market men and women dutifully attended their booths, anticipating the moment when they could pack up their labors for the day and go out into the inviting nightscape of the city.
In a somewhat compact room, in a nondescript building towards the outskirts of the town, under the sight of the circular wall that enclosed the small city, one child was decidedly not in good spirits.
He still could not wrap his head around the circumstances he now found himself in, even though he had done little but anxiously assess his situation over the last few days. The pale-eyed ninja who had whisked him away from the mountains told him they were taking him for questioning, but that did not make sense to the boy. Why did they bring me here? What are they going to do to me? Why didn't they ask their questions already… gods this is so much pressure Icanttakeitanylonger!
The windowless little room was not well-lit, and the wall to the boy's back was steeped in shadows. No words broke through the space, yet the room was decidedly not silent. The involuntary jerks and shakes of the child dragged his chair forward and back in place, raising consistent creaking noises from the uncarpeted floor. The boy could not help but twitch in his vexed state, even though the motion caused the restraints at his wrists to dig irritatingly into his skin.
Opposite the boy across a wooden table was a figure of opposite composure. The youthful man was a veritable portrait of nonchalance, quietly humming to himself as he paged his way through a few scattered reports. The papers were orderly spread out across the table and his free arms moved purposefully from pile to pile, here and there marking the forms in a flowery script.
The man's eyes were green and he sported a blue band of cloth around his forehead which kept his long ashen yellow locks in place. The band's front displayed an engraved metal plate which depicted an odd symbol, akin to a diagonal arrow with the stem replaced by a swirl pattern. The mountain boy recognized the image— his captors had worn the same emblem— and he understood that such a headband designated the man as a shinobi. More knowledgeable suspects would easily identify it as the stylized leaf of Konohagakure, but the boy had no idea which of the ninja villages it designated.
Completely ensnared in his own thoughts the arrestee, despite looking directly at his questioner, failed to notice that the man had finished his activity and had been staring back at him for the last few seconds. When he finally spoke, the ninja's voice was professional, but had a hint of warmth to it.
"Alright, I believe that we can get started here now. I'm going to ask you some questions, the more you comply the easier things will be for both you and me. Do you follow?"
"I… I think so."
"Great! We'll start off with basic things and then build our way up from there, alright? First off, what is your name and rank?"
At the ninja's query the boy's shaking mostly ceased save for an occasional sudden jerk of his head. In stark contrast to his calmer body the boy's face had contorted into a twisted expression; the ninja across the table took particular interest in the wrenched visage, wordlessly jotting down a few notes at the sight of it.
"I don't remember!" the wiry boy finally blurted out. His interrogator blinked twice in response but kept the same expression as he had before, save for the emergence of an ever-so-slight half smile on his lips.
"If you're going to lie you should really make it more believable than that, you know," the man chuckled. The corners of the man's eyes tightened in as the ninja's gaze slightly intensified, but the smile did not leave his face. "In all seriousness, anything you say we will be able to cross-check. I'm not going to ask you to be truthful again. Is that clear?"
"It's not a lie, I swear! N-no one has called me by my name in years… they all called me Tweek. Because— gah because I twitch so much." As if to emphasize his point, the boy's wiry body was suddenly wracked by a violent spasm, almost causing his chair to tip over.
"...Seems like an apt nickname… I suppose we can take that for now and focus on more pressing details." For a moment the ninja turned his gaze past his subject towards the back wall, subtly refocusing after. "But you still haven't told me your rank yet."
"I erg— don't know what you mean, sir," the boy called Tweek wrenched out roughly, involuntarily blinking his left eye several times. The interrogator motioned to respond, irritation flashing on his face, but Tweek scrambled to elaborate at the sight of him. "Please, I'm telling the truth! I really don't know what you mean by my rank, I've never had something like that before! I don't know!"
If Tweek had been agitated before the interrogation, his prior demeanor paled in comparison to his current state of panic. His full-body shakes had returned stronger than before; the dragging chair once more spawned harsh creaks into the small room, but now those sounds mixed with the jagged breathing of the boy's hyperventilations.
Surprisingly, the distraught reverie was brought to a sudden halt by nothing more than a raised hand and a commanding shout of "Enough!" from the shinobi. By itself, the ninja's expression was still not hostile towards the boy, but he now possessed an aura of impatience around him which was targeted squarely at his respondent. The force of the man's demeanor was as tangible to the poor boy as gravity or friction; Tweek shrank back into his seat as the air itself suddenly seemed saturated with dissatisfaction.
Having achieved the desired result, the ninja slightly dialed back his pressure but maintained an undercurrent of insistence in the room. Taking an instant to compose himself, he motioned to one of the scattered documents on the table before speaking.
"I have multiple accounts of you using an advanced ninjutsu in order to neutralize a wanted criminal and former chūnin of the Hidden Stone. You can release the Gate of Opening and now you are trying to play so dumb that you don't even know what ranks are? What is your angle? What do you possibly hope to gain in this situation?"
With each of the ninja's questions, the invisible pressure of irritation crescendoed into open intimidation and hostile intent. Evidently some line had been crossed during the interrogation, for the shinobi made no attempt to soften his expression or present himself genially to his subject. In the eyes of the ninja there no longer was a child sitting before him, but an uncooperative suspect and threat of unknown potential.
"You were present when the life of a clan heir of the Hidden Leaf was threatened. If you do not provide the information we require you will be considered hostile and a possible danger to Konohagakure. Now tell me your damn rank!"
By this point the suspect was uncooperative indeed, as the boy called Tweek found himself unable to respond beyond a strangled series of "I don't know", repeating the mantra again and again as the throes of panic once again overtook him.
Seeing that forcefulness had achieved the opposite of his desired result the Leaf interrogator slumped back in his seat, sighing as he resigned himself to the next course of action. Although the shinobi's physically incarnate intimidation had ceased, the wild-haired blond remained in his own world, oblivious of his questioner even as the man began once more.
"Naomi," he called out, "would you mind stepping in here? I do not think we are getting anywhere."
Behind the boy's back the shadows that adorned the wall seemed to seep out, encroaching into the solace of the light until they began to take form. Tendrils of darkness revealed themselves as slender limbs cloaked in black; the umbra transfigured into the torso and head of a somberly dressed shinobi who bore the same plated headband as the man, decorated with the same stylized leaf. In one motion the woman surged forward and deftly struck Tweek from behind; hardly more than a second passed between the end of the man's request and the woman's precise blow. Tweek lost consciousness before he gained cognizance of the female ninja, although the kunoichi grabbed his collar before he could slump forward onto the table.
"Don't beat yourself up too bad, Inoichi, that wasn't the worst interrogation I've ever seen," she said, half-mischievously and half-reassuringly. "Certainly up there, though."
"Cut me some slack, will you?" Yamanaka Inoichi said glumly. "The kid is too skilled to have come from nowhere, but I didn't expect him to react like that to basic questioning. I've never had a subject quite like him before."
"I could have told you that the minute he was dropped off. By the way, there wasn't a single moment where he was totally still. I was looking for one, believe me," Naomi said playfully. In the ensuing silence the kunoichi turned her gaze back to the boy whom she still held by the collar, causing the woman's airy visage to condense into a pool of pensiveness.
She paused for a moment. Without shifting her gaze, she finally addressed her comrade again. "Didn't really seem like a threat when they brought him in, did he? I mean, he's not even listed in the Bingo Book."
"I know how you feel…" the interrogator said solemnly, "but we have to do our diligence. One wrong ninja slipping through the cracks could cause a whole lot of pain down the line. Now, please keep him steady so I can perform the Mind Transmission."
Naomi delicately placed the boy back upright before pushing in his chair. Once Tweek's posture had been assured the kunoichi released him. She did not return to the shadows she had spied in previously, electing instead to remain just behind the boy's chair as the interrogator reached out and gently placed his right hand on top of his head.
The female chūnin had seen the Mind Transmission Jutsu in action many times before, though she could not perform it herself; it was a hiden technique, a closely guarded secret of the Leaf Village passed down to only a select few ninja with the right connections— or birth. Naomi had, however, been brought to speed on how the technique functioned. In a moment her comrade would be sifting through their subject's memory itself, vividly peering through the boy's experiences as though he were a bystander in Tweek's very own life.
The moment he initiated the jutsu the male chūnin noticed that there were no mental blocks placed on the boy's memories, no protections to wall out or even merely hamper an intruder like him. Admittedly, the man had not expected to find them in this subject's mind— such precautions were rarely placed in someone so young— but their absence majorly decreased the likelihood that the boy before him was a deeply undercover ninja. A tide of discomfort ebbed and flowed throughout his mind, but the shinobi managed to press on through his misgivings, even managing to hasten his efforts. It was his job to be thorough, that was true, but for the moment he needed no further motivation than his own inquisitiveness. This boy, Tweek— christened after his constant convulsions, evidently— fascinated him, for there were so many gaps in his profile, holes in his story which clamored for answers.
How had this child, from whom every possible signal suggested was detached from the world of shinobi, incapacitated a veteran ninja and dangerous criminal? Who had taught the boy a jutsu which required such precise control of one's chakra, a technique so esoteric most chūnin were unable to perform it themselves? There was no way this Tweek could have actually forgotten his own name, was there?
Entering the domain of Tweek's earliest memories, the infiltrator forged onwards.
/
Reflecting back, Kureigu found his return to the waking world anticlimactic given what had occurred before and what would transpire later on. There was little grogginess in his mind even though he was pervasively exhausted, and his self-inflicted sleeping spell had produced no dreams. The most notable aspect of his awakening was an undisguised sense of being watched, like he was laid bare and meticulously observed down to the finest detail.
The feeling was not novel to the Hyūga heir. The boy did not bother opening his eyes to confirm his suspicions; there was little doubt in his mind who the perpetrator was. Had he been able, Kureigu would have preferred to go back to sleep.
In the absence of comforting slumber, Kureigu focused on his surroundings. The sleeping arrangements were comfortable enough for him, although there was no pillow at his head. Despite being laid flat he was undoubtedly moving forward, which meant that the company had resumed its journey. How much time had passed since the forest was completely unknown to the boy, although the absence of any notable incline meant the convoy must have put some distance between themselves and the mountain was only so much Kureigu could take in with his eyes shut, but he opted to keep them closed anyways.
He already knows I'm awake by now… if he wants to talk to me then he can start this shit off.
Sure enough, Kureigu did not have to wait long before a familiarly gruff voice addressed him. "Do you not have anything to say on your own behalf? Or did you exhaust yourself so horribly you can't even open your mouth to speak?"
There was a slight pause. "For diplomatic trips… you told me not to speak unless directly addressed, Father," Kureigu blandly replied, finally lifting his eyelids to meet the stare of the head of the Hyūga Clan. Physically, the father and son shared many similarities, but vocally, Kureigu sometimes wondered why they sounded nothing alike.
"Stop that. Don't hide behind decorum," his father sharply countered. "These are obviously extenuating circumstances. Now explain yourself."
"I wanted to get some exercise after being shut in all week," came the semi-truthful reply. "I didn't account for the possibility of random missing-nin hanging around remote mountain villages."
"You did not ask for permission to leave the town, and the clone you left behind means you knew exactly what you were doing."
Of course I didn't ask for permission, you would've sai—
"You knew that I would not give approval and so you chose to leave anyway. As a result you have endangered your own life, jeopardized the gift of our clan, and openly defied me in the presence of very important people. Is that not a fair assessment?"
"...I guess so," Kureigu replied reservedly. In moments like this the boy was thankful for his naturally monotone speech; an unvaried voice made it easier to tell adults what they wanted to hear, which in turn made it quicker to be chewed out by them.
In this instance, however, Kureigu figured that his dad wasn't going to let him off easily. The conversation fell into tense silence for a few minutes, but the son never got the feeling that the topic had been dropped. Kureigu eventually elected to break the quiet himself. Awkwardness notwithstanding, he did want to find out what had occurred while he was passed out.
"What happened to the missing-nin?"
"The outlaw was already incapacitated by the time we arrived. Hoheto and Iruha took him ahead to rendezvous with the Torture and Interrogation Force for questioning. He's not an issue going forward."
"And what about the village kid?" Kureigu followed up, voice flat as always.
"The boy will be handed over to them as well."
At his father's remark Kureigu moved to sit up, immediately regretting the action as a fresh wave of pain flowed through him. After the episode passed Kureigu, once again horizontal, responded with the slightest edge to his voice. "Why would you send that kid to T&I? You know he fought the missing-nin, right? That doesn't make any sense."
"It's a perfectly sensible precaution," the father reprimanded. His words carried a tint of exasperation, like a schoolteacher repeating themselves to an absentminded student. "That boy used a technique more advanced and more obscure than anything they've taught you in the Academy so far, did you know that? Don't you have any questions about where he learned it?"
As the clan head spoke he became increasingly heated but did not raise his voice in the slightest. Despite the dullness of his exhausted body Kureigu keenly felt the pressure emanating from the man's presence, the manifest force of will supplanting the atmosphere of the enclosed carriage.
"If you're not suspicious of strange children capable of taking down veteran shinobi then I am very worried for you. With that naivete you'll never even make it to chūnin, and I'm not talking about your chances in the exams. You are in line to inherit our clan… act with some self-preservation, Kureigu."
Many people, civilians and shinobi alike, found themselves unable to speak after drawing the ire of the Hyūga head. His son, however, was more steadfast. Setting off the parental powder keg was an acceptable risk when the boy felt slighted. Kureigu knew how strange it sounded, but he nevertheless felt compelled to offer his explanation in the face of accusation.
"I don't suspect that kid… because I don't think he could possibly be a ninja, even if he is using high-level techniques. I talked with him a bit before the incident… I can't describe it but it's like he's the total opposite of how a shinobi carries himself. We could just ask him anything we wanted to know and I bet that he would cave in right away."
Over the course of his defense, Kureigu's head had absentmindedly drifted away from his father and towards the carriage ceiling. When realization struck he paused for a moment before moving back to his original position. "Besides, the coincidence was just too great. Why would a ruthless ninja choose to starve in a village way up in the mountains?"
Instead of the cross retort he expected, Kureigu was met with silence from the Hyūga head. Even if he had the strength to activate his Byakugan, the boy would not have been able to read his father's expression as the man formulated his next words. Eventually, the man spoke. "Your belief in the boy's innocence is irrelevant," the father said, "because your thinking is wrong. You say that the boy would confess if we interrogated him ourselves, but we have no way to verify anything he says. You believe the boy cannot be hostile, but regardless of likelihood there is no reason to take chances with your safety. Let the interrogators determine his innocence, for that is precisely their role."
…
"So, what happens if they find out he's not a ninja? Being able to punch hard doesn't mean that kid is able to survive out in the woods."
"He'll be handed off for questioning in Tanzaku Quarters. If they deem the boy poses no threat, he will be released. There is certainly more opportunity for him in a proper town than a settlement up in the mountains."
Kureigu's brow furrowed at his father's words, his pale orbs contracting in contemplation. He had started to sit up again, but painfully earned experience made him reconsider. "But… Tanzaku Quarters is where we separate from the lords, why would T&I handle the kid there? That doesn't make sense."
"It is not good practice to kidnap children unexplained, nor is it prudent to tell nobility that a suspected foreign agent will be joining their convoy. As far as the magistrates are concerned the boy has been allowed to accompany us as a reward for alerting us of the missing-nin." At this the Hyūga head paused for half a second, the trace of a sardonic smile emanating from his face before he continued. "Congratulations, by the way, on battling a rogue chūnin to mutual knockout."
"You brought that kid along with us?" Kureigu questioned, his inquiry earning a slight nod of confirmation. "That's—, I mean, that's still not fair though. If he's not a ninja then he deserves an actual reward for what he did, not just being dumped off in a strange place."
"Perhaps it is not fair, but the protection of our family outweighs the plight of an urchin from the mountains. Someday, fortune willing, you will lead our clan. When that day comes, many people's lives, Hyūga or other, will depend on your choices and your ability to protect the Byakugan. Use this incident as a chance to learn; after all it was your recklessness that created this situation."
The boy's nostrils flared at his father's scolding, but he did not verbally respond. Don't put this shit on me, Dad. I might have snuck out at the wrong time but I'm not the one keeping a kid hostage.
Fucking asshole.
Kureigu lamented his current fatigue, if for no other reason than the fact that it made his movements too slow to be able to flip his dad the finger unnoticed. He absolutely could not stand how the man had finished his lecture, but by this point the tide of exhaustion was in, swamping his body in drowsiness. The boy decided the prospect of sleep was preferable to continuing to antagonize his father.
At least for the moment, anyway; the seed of a promising idea had already begun germinating in his head.
Kureigu reawoke feeling much more revitalized than he had the first time around, and was now able to shift himself to an upright position without difficulty. His father seemed to be preoccupied with some sort of writing: whether it was for official business or simply more of the man's calligraphy, Kureigu didn't particularly give a damn.
He had hoped to take the opportunity to get some thinking in, but his immediate focus was drawn to the question of sustenance. The further distanced from sleep Kureigu was, the more painfully aware he became of just how long it had been since he had anything to eat or drink. Somewhat ruefully, his mind wandered to the ration bars he had given away back in the mountains, wondering if they had even been of any use before the missing-nin fiasco. Fortunately, the boy quickly noticed some provisions in the carriage within arm's reach of his position. Kureigu could not recall whether they had been there during his first waking stint, and he did not bother to ask about it as he went to grab them.
After eating a little and taking a hearty swig of water, Kureigu set to work processing his situation. Thinking came naturally to the Hyūga heir, at least when he actually put his mind to it. Any predicament could be reasoned out, no matter how crazy it seemed— he just had to break things down to the basic facts and let rationality do the rest.
The conversation with his father played back in his mind, as did the events of the forest, uncomfortable as they were. Hyūga Kureigu would not let pain or embarrassment hold him back— he had a plan to make.
Let's see what we've got here. First… Dad's being an asshole. Shocker. The million-ryō question is how I'm gonna get him back for it.
Second… because my dad's an asshole, that twitchy kid's gotten put into a shit situation. Kinda fucked after he… after he took down that Stone ninja.
Third, my family is going to be watching me like a hawk for the rest of this trip. Anything I try will have to be up front with Dad, like it or not.
Once the facts had been established, Kureigu set to formulating his potential scheme. The seed which had been planted after his father's talk was rapidly sprouting out, blossoming even. If the Hyūga heir had to work through his father, he believed that he had come up with just the right request to make to suit his goals.
The planned appeal was desirable on several fronts, the first of which was that Kureigu knew his father would be too prideful to decline his challenge. It was one of the great things about adults: they simply could not let a kid get the better of them on any point, especially if you used their own words against them. Another benefit was how it could help out the weird kid; not only would it (hopefully) leave him in a better place than homeless on the streets in Tanzaku Quarters, but Kureigu believed it could somewhat shield the poor spaz leading up to his date with T&I.
The downsides to his scheme, however, were equally apparent. It was a major ask to make, which meant he could not exactly predict how his father would respond or how much it could impact himself down the line. Despite the missing-nin incident, the clan heir had serious questions about how far he was willing to stick his neck out for the mountain kid. Kureigu also admitted that, were his request accepted, it would essentially be playing with the strange boy's entire lifestyle, but he reasoned that it was acceptable in order to keep him off the streets.
Ultimately, the pale-eyed boy decided not to rush the decision. He could confirm how long they had to reach Tanzaku Quarters, so there was no point in showing his hand prematurely.
Kureigu spent the rest of the day's travel in much the same fashion as he had before the company's stop in the mountains. His thoughts occasionally returned to his proposed scheme, reweighing the pros and cons in his mind. He could always use another training partner…
The Hyūga prince did not encounter the mountain boy when the company stopped for the night, although he did catch sight of the shanghaied blond at dinnertime. Kureigu was surprised to find that the other boy was eating calmly, slowly, and, most shockingly, still. He puzzled for a minute, wondering what had happened to the constant convulsions he'd expected. He received his answer after noticing that two of his cousins— two kunoichi— were flanked on either side of him.
The human chakra system consists of exactly 361 minute nodes: chakra points too small to be seen by the naked eye but ripe for exploitation by those who wield the ocular abilities of the Byakugan. Surgically precise strikes to these chakra gateways could force them open or viciously seal them shut, wreaking havoc on the opponent's bodily systems. Kureigu figured that moving and lifting his chopsticks was probably as much as the kid was capable of during the meal.
Dinner was otherwise uneventful, as was the rest of the evening. Kureigu retired to bed early, partially to rest his still-recovering body but mostly due to his family's watchful pale eyes killing his chance at doing anything fun for the night.
The Hyūga heir felt better still the next morning, even to the point of hazarding the use of his Byakugan once the convoy was back on the road. His mind was mostly decided on making his planned request, but he did want to check the boy's physical potential before he officially went out to bat for him. Using its insight, the pitch–haired boy gave the mysterious spaz's chakra system a once-over before deactivating his Byakugan.
"The mountain kid looks to have a lot of chakra for someone so thin," Kureigu said, breaking the longstanding silence in the carriage. His father looked up from his work and studied him carefully, but otherwise did not respond. "And you told me that he already knows some high-level jutsu."
"Whatever you're getting at, Kureigu, just come out with it. Don't play such games."
"If that kid gets cleared by T&I," the nasally voice continued nonchalantly, "and I definitely believe that he will be… I think that we should hire him…
...as my retainer."
