Chapter 4: A Friend in Need

The sun had already begun its slow descent behind the village walls by the time Masayuki finally stopped training. He had spent hours hurling kunai and shuriken at the makeshift targets he had set up, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion. Sweat clung to his skin, and his muscles ached from the strain, but there was a small sense of satisfaction that came with each weapon that struck closer to the mark.

Progress was slow, but it was progress nonetheless.

As he finally packed up his gear, a deep fatigue settled over him, heavier than the weight of the weapons in his hands. The training had been more draining than he had anticipated, and his stomach growled in protest, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. But despite his exhaustion, he knew he couldn't afford to rest just yet. He still had so much more to learn, especially when it came to taijutsu. The memory of Sasuke effortlessly planting him on his ass was living in his head, rent free. Ninjutsu would have to wait.

It was late afternoon now, and the streets of Konoha were starting to empty as people returned to their homes for dinner. Thankfully, it was the weekend, or Masayuki would have been in serious trouble for skipping the academy. The realization brought a small sigh of relief. He had completely lost track of time during his training, and if it had been a school day, Iruka would have given him an earful.

As he walked back through the village, he mulled over his options. Learning to throw weapons was one thing—it was a skill that could be taught to oneself with enough practice. But taijutsu was a different beast entirely. He needed a mentor, someone who could guide him and correct his mistakes, but finding such a person was easier said than done. Why would anyone take the time to mentor a ten-year-old orphan who had shown no previous talent or interest in becoming a shinobi?

The alternative was to visit the library and see if he could find any books or scrolls on taijutsu styles. It wasn't the most ideal solution, but it was the easiest option available to him. He could start there, at least. Even if it wouldn't be as effective as one-on-one training, it would give him a foundation to build on. The thought of heading straight home to collapse into bed was tempting, but he pushed the fatigue aside and set off in the direction of the library.

As Masayuki walked through the village, the sounds of life around him faded into the background as his thoughts turned inward. He could feel the calluses forming on his hands, a physical reminder of the effort he was putting in. He had never been the kind of person to back down from a challenge, and this was no different. He was determined to improve, to become someone who could make a difference in this world.

But as he passed by a narrow alleyway, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft sniffles and quiet sobs. He stopped in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat. The alley was shrouded in shadow, the fading light of the day barely penetrating its depths. His instincts told him to keep walking, to mind his own business, but he couldn't. He had never been able to ignore someone in need, not in his past life, and not now.

With quiet footsteps, Masayuki approached the alley, peering into the gloom. He could just make out a small figure sitting on the ground, their shoulders shaking with each sob. He moved closer, his eyes straining to make out the details in the dim light. As he drew nearer, the figure became clearer—a girl with familiar jet-black hair, her knees drawn up to her chest as she cried into her arms.

"Kira...?" he called out softly, his voice filled with concern.

The girl flinched at the sound of his voice, her head jerking up slightly before she quickly turned away, hiding her face from him. "Ma-kun... what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Masayuki felt a pang of guilt as he recognized the voice. It was Kira, the same girl who had asked him to join her for dango the day before, the girl he had turned down. He knelt down beside her, his heart aching at the sight of her trembling form. She was clearly in distress, and something inside him told him that this was more than just a passing sadness.

"I should be asking you that," he replied gently. "Are you okay? What's the matter?"

Kira didn't respond immediately. Instead, she seemed to curl in on herself even more, as if trying to make herself disappear. But when Masayuki reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, she began to cry even harder. Her sobs were muffled by her arms, but the pain in them was unmistakable.

Masayuki's concern deepened. He gently placed a hand under her cheek and turned her head toward him, despite her initial resistance. When he finally saw her face, his breath caught in his throat. There, on the right side of her face, was a large, dark bruise—a black eye that was so severe, even the dim light of the alley couldn't hide it.

"Kira..." he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock and anger. "Who did this to you?"

Kira quickly looked away, pulling her face out of his hand. "It's none of your business," she muttered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Masayuki's heart ached at her words. He could see the pain and fear in her eyes, and it killed him to know that someone had hurt her like this. "Kira, please," he pleaded, his voice soft but insistent. "Let me help you. Who did this?"

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why?" she asked, her voice rising slightly as she tried to hold back her sobs. "Why would you help me? You didn't even want to walk home with me yesterday. You didn't care then, so why now?"

Masayuki felt a wave of guilt wash over him. She was right—he had turned her down, not realizing the desperation in her voice when she had asked for his company. He had been so focused on his own problems, on his own training, that he had missed the signs that she needed help. "I'm sorry, Kira," he said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't know. If I had known, I would have—"

Kira interrupted him, her tears flowing freely now. "It doesn't matter," she said, her voice breaking. "You didn't know because I didn't tell you. I didn't want to burden you. But... last night, when I got home... he was waiting for me. My father... he hit me. Hard. And this morning, he hit me and my mother again. He was drunk, and he lost all our money gambling. There's nothing left. Nothing. And there's nothing I can do to stop him... he's a shinobi, and my mother and I... we're just civilians."

Masayuki's heart twisted painfully at her words. He could hear the hopelessness in her voice, the fear and despair that came from living in a home where she was never safe. The thought of a young girl like Kira, living in constant fear of her own father, filled him with a deep, burning anger. How could anyone treat their own child like this? How could anyone make a child feel so unsafe, so unloved?

"I'm so sorry, Kira," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry. I should have been there for you. I should have—"

"Stop," she interrupted again, her voice trembling. "Just... stop. I don't want your pity, Ma-kun. I just want to be safe. I just want to feel safe..."

Masayuki felt tears prick at the corners of his own eyes as he watched her cry. He wanted to help her, more than anything, but he didn't know how. He wasn't strong enough to fight her father—he had seen firsthand how outmatched he was in taijutsu. And going to the authorities... that was a joke. The Konoha Military Police Force had been wiped out along with the Uchiha clan, and he had no idea who he could trust among the remaining shinobi. There was no way he could get an audience with the Hokage, and even if he could, what would he say? That he was a ten-year-old boy trying to protect his friend from her abusive father?

As his mind raced, searching for a solution, his eyes landed on a small sack lying beside Kira. It was stuffed to the brim, the fabric bulging with whatever she had managed to pack inside. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks—she had been planning to run away. She had been planning to leave her home, to live on the streets rather than face another beating from her father.

His heart broke at the thought. What kind of monster would force a young girl to choose between the safety of the streets and the terror of her own home? It spoke volumes about the life she was living, about the hell she was enduring, that running away seemed like her only option.

He clenched his fists, his anger boiling over. He couldn't let this continue. He couldn't let Kira suffer like this, not when he had the power to do something about it. He wasn't strong enough to fight her father, but there had to be another way to protect her, to keep her safe.

"Kira," he said quietly, his voice filled with determination. "If you have nowhere else to go... you can come stay with me. My house is mostly empty, and there are a couple of spare rooms. It's safe there, and you wouldn't have to worry about your father. Plus... it's been pretty lonely living there by myself. It'd be nice to have some company."

Kira looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with surprise. For a moment, she seemed too shocked to respond, her eyes wide as she processed his words. "You... you really mean that?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope.

Masayuki nodded, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah, I do. You can stay with me for as long as you need to. We'll figure something out, I promise."

She hesitated, her eyes flicking between him and the sack beside her. But after a moment, she finally nodded, a tiny, tentative smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Ma-kun," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you..."

Masayuki stood up and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. She was still self-conscious about the bruise on her face, but she seemed relieved that it was mostly hidden by the bandages he had applied. Together, they walked out of the alley, Kira clutching her sack of belongings as if it were a lifeline.

As they made their way to Masayuki's house, the streets of Konoha were quiet, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows on the ground. The village was beginning to settle into the stillness of the evening, and the two of them walked in silence, the weight of the day's events hanging heavily between them.

When they finally arrived at Masayuki's house, Kira looked around with wide eyes, taking in the sight of the quaint one-story building. It wasn't much, but it was a safe haven compared to the hell she had just escaped. Masayuki silently thanked his parents for having been well-off enough to afford such a house.

Masayuki tried to show her around the house, pointing out the different rooms and offering her a tour, but he could tell that she wasn't really interested. She was tired—exhausted, really—and he didn't blame her. She had been through so much in such a short amount of time, and all she needed now was a place to rest.

He pulled out a spare futon and placed it in one of the empty rooms, setting up a comfortable space for her to settle down. He showed her where she could shower, provided her with toiletries, and even gave her a bag of ice for the bruise, hoping it would help reduce the swelling. But as much as he wanted to do more for her, he knew that what she needed most right now was time alone.

"Take your time," he said gently as he handed her the ice pack. "If you need anything, I'll be right down the hall."

Kira nodded, her expression a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. "Thank you, Ma-kun," she whispered again, her voice so soft he almost didn't hear it.

Masayuki left her alone to settle in, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what she had endured. As he walked back to his own room, he couldn't help but think about how close he had come to missing the signs, how easily he could have walked away and left her to suffer in silence. The thought made him sick to his stomach. How could he ever hope to become a shinobi, to save lives, if he couldn't even help a friend in need?

The problem of living expenses crossed his mind—he knew that taking Kira in would mean more mouths to feed, more money that he didn't have. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, all that mattered was keeping her safe. He would find a way to make it work, no matter what. He had always been a do-first, think-later kind of guy.

After they had both showered and shared a simple dinner of instant noodles—a meal that made Masayuki chuckle as he remembered how he used to berate Naruto for his love of instant ramen—the two of them retreated to their rooms for the night. But as Masayuki lay in his futon, trying to find sleep, he couldn't ignore the sound of soft sobs coming from Kira's room.

He sighed quietly, his heart aching for the girl who had been through so much. He knew she didn't want his pity, but he couldn't just leave her alone in her pain. She was scared, vulnerable, and in desperate need of comfort.

Without a second thought, Masayuki got up and grabbed another spare futon, silently thanking his past self for having packed and rearranged everything earlier. He quietly made his way to Kira's room and set up the futon next to hers. When she looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from crying, he offered her a small, reassuring smile. No words were exchanged, but there was an understanding between them—an unspoken agreement that they would face whatever came next together.

Kira's sobs gradually died down as she curled up in her futon, her breathing evening out as she finally began to relax. Masayuki lay down beside her, his presence a silent promise that she was no longer alone, that she had someone who cared about her.

And as the two of them drifted off to sleep, the house, for the first time in a long while, felt a little less lonely.

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