-Chapter 7-
Narumi glanced up as the family she had noticed earlier entered the Hokage's office. The father was tall and stern, with dark hair combed neatly to the side, a few streaks of gray framing his sharp features. His eyes, a deep brown, held a weight of responsibility and exhaustion. He wore a simple, traditional shinobi uniform, but there was an air of dignity about him that suggested he came from an old, respected clan.
The mother, standing by his side, was shorter with delicate features, her long black hair tied in a loose braid. She had gentle eyes that seemed weighed down by constant worry, her lips pursed as though she had long ago run out of words to express her concerns. She stood close to her husband, her gaze occasionally flitting toward their daughter.
Their daughter stood between them, frail and pale, her large brown eyes downcast. She was a bit older than Narumi, with dark hair that hung limply around her shoulders. Her thin frame and soft, almost ghostly complexion made her seem fragile, like a doll that might break with the slightest touch. There was an unmistakable sense of vulnerability about her, as if she was weighed down by something far greater than her slight form could handle.
The father hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice steady but tense. "Hokage-sama, about the Kyuu—"
Before he could finish, the Third Hokage coughed loudly, cutting him off with a sharp glare. "This is Uzumaki Narumi," he said, gesturing to her. "She's somewhat of my assistant and a specialist here."
Narumi smirked lightly, raising an eyebrow. "So, I'm your assistant now?" she said, making her way to her usual chair by the Hokage's desk, her notebook in hand. She sat down, her attention already half-returned to her scribbling. Kakashi leaned against the wall, still absorbed in his book, not bothering to engage.
The father shot Narumi a glance, clearly uncomfortable with her presence. "Is it... appropriate for her to be here?" he asked, his voice tinged with unease. He had expected this to be a private meeting.
The Third Hokage waved his concern away. "No worries. As I said, she's a specialist. If it was a matter of confidentiality, I would have asked her to leave. But this is not such a case."
Narumi continued writing in her notebook, barely acknowledging the family's discomfort. She wasn't particularly interested in their issues—until the father mentioned something that piqued her interest.
After a moment of hesitation, the father resigned himself to Narumi's presence and addressed the Hokage. "Hokage-sama, we've come to petition for a special tutor for our daughter."
The Hokage leaned forward, his expression more serious now. "A special tutor? Why so soon? She's still in the academy, correct? There's time for her to improve with standard training."
"As you know, Hokage-sama, our clan specializes in genjutsu. It is our kekkei genkai," the father explained, his voice lowering slightly. "Our daughter, Yakumo, has inherited the full potential of our clan's abilities. But she was born with a weak body... and she cannot control her genjutsu. Sometimes she casts it unconsciously, and it's becoming more dangerous."
Narumi, who had been only half-listening, suddenly perked up. Genjutsu kekkei genkai? That caught her attention. She had been thinking about her own weaknesses recently, and genjutsu was at the top of the list. She had no defense against it, no counter. Maybe she could develop a seal that cross-checked incoming sensory data with her sensing seal. The idea intrigued her.
The Third Hokage looked deeply concerned. "I see. This is more serious than I thought." He folded his hands on the desk. "Genjutsu that strong... and uncontrollable? That could be dangerous for her and for others."
The mother nodded, her eyes filled with worry. "Yes, Hokage-sama. We're afraid she might hurt herself or those around her if this continues. We need a tutor who specializes in genjutsu, someone who understands how to manage abilities of this magnitude."
Before the Hokage could respond, a sudden flare of fire erupted in the center of the room. The flames roared up, growing larger in seconds, and everyone reacted instinctively. Narumi's eyes widened in shock as her reactive barrier—which should have activated instantly—did nothing. She hastily drew a containment seal in the air, but the fire ignored it, raging unchecked.
"What the—" Narumi muttered, realizing something was very wrong. Her barrier wasn't reacting because her physical body wasn't in danger. But the burns appearing on her skin told her otherwise. "It's a genjutsu," she thought, her heart pounding. "A dangerous one."
Just as panic began to rise in the room, the father quickly moved. He knocked his daughter, who had gone pale with terror, and the fire vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
"I'm... I'm so sorry," the father stammered, his voice filled with shame. "This is exactly why we need help. Yakumo sometimes unconsciously casts her genjutsu, and we can't control it."
Narumi stared at the spot where the flames had been, still processing what had just happened. So that's the Kurama clan's genjutsu? It was terrifyingly powerful. Her reactive barrier hadn't activated because the danger wasn't real—except it had been. Her body had still shown signs of burns, red marks forming on her skin, even though the fire was an illusion.
But her clothes… they were completely untouched. Not a single sign of burning or scorching. The fabric hadn't been affected at all, while her body had suffered the effects of a fire that didn't truly exist.
"How…" Narumi muttered under her breath, touching her arm where the burns had appeared. "The flames weren't real, but they left marks on me. And my barrier didn't react because it didn't register a real threat. But my clothes? Nothing."
The contrast between her injured skin and her unscathed clothing was eerie, like her body had stepped into two different realities at once.
This genjutsu was more dangerous than she had imagined. It blurred the lines between illusion and reality in a way she hadn't thought possible. Her mind raced with thoughts of how to counter it, how to prevent her body from falling victim to such an overwhelming, deceptive force. Could a seal protect against something this intangible?
"Fascinating… and terrifying," she whispered, already piecing together possible solutions in her mind.
"I didn't even realize I was in a genjutsu," Narumi thought, feeling a strange mixture of fear and fascination. "This could be a problem."
The Hokage, his expression now grave, nodded. "I understand the urgency. I will find a suitable tutor for your daughter immediately."
The family bowed in gratitude and left, the room falling into a tense silence once they were gone.
Narumi, still staring at the door, finally spoke. "Their kekkei genkai is absurd. She cast a wide-range genjutsu, and I didn't even notice I was trapped in it."
Kakashi, still leaning against the wall, closed his book with a soft thud. "It's dangerous. Stronger than any Sharingan genjutsu I've encountered."
The Third Hokage nodded. "It is. And it's unpredictable, which makes it even more concerning. Do you think you can create a seal to counter it?"
Narumi rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I have an idea... but I'll need time to research. I need to understand how their kekkei genkai works first."
The Hokage sighed. "Very well. For now, I'll focus on finding a genjutsu specialist who can help her control it. In the meantime, work on your seal theory."
Narumi nodded, her mind already racing with possibilities. She might be weak against genjutsu now, but that was about to change.
Narumi sat in her sanctuary, surrounded by the tranquil sounds of the forest. Her mind, however, was anything but calm. She was deep in thought, scribbling intricate seal designs on the scroll in front of her. The Kurama clan's genjutsu had rattled her more than she cared to admit, and that wasn't something that happened often.
She let out a sigh, recalling the strange burns on her skin from earlier. "A genjutsu that powerful…" she muttered to herself. The Kurama clan's kekkei genkai was unlike anything she'd ever encountered. It defied what she knew about genjutsu, bending reality itself—or at least making it appear so convincingly that her body reacted with burns, despite there being no real fire. Not even her reactive barrier had been triggered, and that was what concerned her most.
"How could a genjutsu bypass everything so effortlessly?" Narumi thought, frowning. Normally, her barrier would activate the moment anything physically harmful approached her. But Yakumo's attack had slipped through unnoticed, like her body had been tricked into thinking it wasn't in danger until it was too late.
Narumi tapped her pen against her chin, an idea forming. "If my barrier can't detect a threat because it's affecting my brain, then the problem lies with my sensory input." Her eyes lit up with excitement as the solution came to her. "What if I create a seal that crosschecks all incoming sensory data with my sensing seal? If something feels off, the seal could instantly disrupt my chakra flow to the brain or even reboot my senses."
She sketched the outline of a new seal on the scroll. It would be a dual-layered system. One part of the seal would constantly monitor her senses, checking if anything seemed abnormal or tampered with, comparing it to the real-world data her sensing seal gathered. The second part would trigger a temporary disruption in her brain's chakra flow, breaking the illusion by temporarily "resetting" her perception. "Like restarting a system to fix a glitch," Narumi whispered to herself with a smile.
"But that might not be enough," she murmured. Genjutsu wasn't just about tricking the mind—it was also about manipulating chakra flow. Yakumo's genjutsu could have influenced her chakra, making her body react to the illusion of burns. "I'll need another seal—something that monitors my chakra flow. If anything abnormal happens, like a sudden spike or dip, the seal can stabilize it before the genjutsu takes over."
Narumi's hand flew across the scroll, sketching designs for a chakra flow stabilization seal. It would be similar to her chakra regulating seal, but this one would focus on detecting any external influence over her chakra and stop it in its tracks.
Still, something gnawed at the back of her mind—Yakumo herself. The way Yakumo had unconsciously cast that genjutsu… it was frightening. But more than that, it was fascinating. Narumi's curiosity about the Kurama clan only deepened. She'd heard of powerful genjutsu users before, but this was different. There was something else at play here.
"Her kekkei genkai is unlike any genjutsu I've ever heard of," Narumi mused, her pen pausing mid-sketch. "How does it affect reality to the point where my skin had actual burns, but my clothes were untouched? Does her brain force the body to believe so strongly in the illusion that it reacts as if it's real?" The idea was unnerving, but it only made Narumi more determined to figure it out.
Then again, perhaps the burns weren't all in her mind. "Could her genjutsu actually manipulate the environment on a chakra level?" Narumi wondered. That would explain how the burns appeared on her skin despite her barrier remaining inactive. "But if it was chakra-based, my barrier should have sensed it. There was no direct physical attack…" She frowned. "It doesn't add up. That genjutsu… it defies logic."
She leaned back against the tree, her mind swirling with possibilities. "The only thing I can do for now is defend my mind by crosschecking sensory input. That might help me break out of weaker genjutsu, but for someone like Yakumo, who knows?"
Her thoughts drifted back to Yakumo. Narumi hadn't missed the nervous look on the girl's face earlier, how she'd barely spoken a word. For all her power, she seemed fragile, like a glass about to shatter. "How did she activate it? Why can't she control it?" Narumi wondered aloud. "A genjutsu is created when a ninja controls the chakra flow of a target's cerebral nervous system, affecting their five senses. But when Yakumo used it, it didn't feel like a typical genjutsu…"
There was something raw about Yakumo's power, as if it was linked more to her emotions than her will. "Maybe it's not about the technique itself, but about her emotional state," Narumi mused, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. "The more unstable she is, the more her genjutsu spirals out of control."
A small smile crept onto her face. "She has potential, though. I don't like to see potential wasted." Narumi tapped her pen on the page, deep in thought. "I'll observe her for now. See why she can't control it. And maybe… maybe I'll be able to help her in ways no one else can."
She turned back to her scroll, her focus returning to the seals she was crafting. Yakumo's kekkei genkai was dangerous, yes. But it was also fascinating. And for Narumi, that was enough reason to keep digging.
Yakumo sat in silence, her heart pounding as she and her parents made their way to the Hokage's office. The memories of her last visit to this place haunted her. She could still hear her parents' worried voices after she had lost control of her powers again. This time, it wasn't just her parents who had been affected—she had attacked the Hokage, his assistant, and even the blonde-haired girl in the room with them.
Narumi Uzumaki, the Hokage had called her. Yakumo didn't understand how someone so young could be a shinobi, let alone the Hokage's assistant. She looked like she was the same age as Yakumo, maybe even younger. But while Yakumo struggled with her body and her uncontrollable genjutsu, Narumi seemed perfectly at ease with herself—calm, confident, and, somehow, already a ninja.
Jealousy gnawed at Yakumo's heart. That girl had everything Yakumo wanted. She was strong, fearless, and didn't seem weighed down by any burdens. Yakumo, on the other hand, had spent her entire life shackled by her own weaknesses. Her body was frail, incapable of the physical training needed to become a proper shinobi. And her genjutsu—her clan's treasured Kekkei Genkai—was too dangerous to control. Every time she got emotional, it slipped through her fingers like sand, hurting everyone around her.
Her parents always tried to encourage her, but the look in their eyes spoke volumes. They were worried, unsure if Yakumo could ever live up to the name of the Kurama clan. She had the Kurama clan's full genjutsu potential, but it was a double-edged sword. She didn't just cast illusions—her genjutsu was strong enough to warp reality itself, something even seasoned shinobi struggled to do. But without control, it was a curse.
The worst part was that it happened unconsciously. Yakumo didn't always know when her genjutsu had activated. She hated it—hated how her mind betrayed her, turning her deepest fears and emotions into living nightmares. Her parents had always been careful around her, but she had hurt them before, just as she had hurt those people in the Hokage's office. Her only solace was in her painting. When she painted, she could escape. It was the only time she could channel her emotions into something constructive.
But this time, it wasn't enough. The damage had been done, and now she was being summoned again by the Hokage. What if they've decided I'm too dangerous? she thought, her heart pounding faster. What if they send me away? Or imprison me? Or... execute me?
She couldn't bear the thought of that. She didn't want to disappoint her parents even more than she already had. She wished she could be stronger, like the other shinobi. Like Narumi Uzumaki.
They entered the Hokage Tower, and Yakumo's stomach churned with nerves. She glanced at her parents, their faces solemn but hopeful. Her mother had always been gentle with her, but her father... he was stricter, more practical. He had been the one to petition the Hokage for help, asking for a tutor to guide her through controlling her powers. Yakumo knew he wanted what was best for her, but sometimes she wondered if he was as scared of her powers as she was.
The door to the Hokage's office opened, and they stepped inside. Yakumo's heart felt like it was in her throat, her palms sweaty. She looked up, expecting to see disappointment or anger in the Hokage's eyes, but instead, she found warmth. His gaze was kind, and somehow, that made her feel a little less afraid.
Then her eyes drifted to Narumi Uzumaki, who was seated in her usual chair near the Hokage. The blonde girl was scribbling in a notebook, seemingly unaware—or uninterested—in their arrival. She's not angry? Yakumo thought, surprised. After what had happened, Yakumo had expected Narumi to be furious or at least injured, but she looked perfectly fine. I need to apologize to her... she reminded herself, feeling the weight of her guilt once more.
But there was someone else in the room, too. A woman with long, flowing black hair and piercing red eyes. She looked calm, confident, like someone who had seen it all and remained steady through it. Her very presence was reassuring. Yakumo wondered if this woman was the special tutor her parents had been asking for.
"Welcome," the Hokage's voice broke through Yakumo's thoughts, drawing her attention back to him. "I've assigned someone to help you with your training, Yakumo. This is Kurenai Yuhi, a jounin and a genjutsu specialist. She will assist you in gaining control over your powers."
Yakumo's heart raced. A tutor... someone who can help me control my powers? It sounded almost too good to be true. She had been trying to control her genjutsu for years, and now someone would finally help her? She glanced at Kurenai, feeling a flicker of hope. Maybe, with the right guidance, she could finally learn how to control the destructive force that had plagued her for so long.
The Hokage continued. "Your abilities are dangerous, but with the right training, they can become a powerful asset. I've also asked Uzumaki Narumi to observe your progress. She's shown a keen interest in seals and may be able to provide additional support during your training."
Yakumo's eyes flicked to Narumi again, feeling that pang of jealousy returning. She's already a specialist? How good is she, really? The Hokage spoke of Narumi like she was someone to be proud of—someone accomplished. She's younger than me, and she's already that far ahead? Yakumo swallowed the bitter feeling and forced herself to stay calm. Focus. Don't lose control again.
Suddenly, Narumi stood up and walked over to Yakumo, extending a hand with a confident smile. "Hello. Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Uzumaki Narumi, genin. Nice to meet you. I'll be observing your training to see if there's anything I can help with."
Yakumo blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected Narumi to be so... direct. Her voice was calm, steady, and full of confidence. Yakumo felt her nerves bubble up again, and her throat went dry. "I-I'm... Yakumo Kurama," she stammered, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm in my last year at the academy. Nice to meet you too." She hesitated, then forced herself to add, "And I'm... I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I... lost control."
Narumi waved her hand dismissively, as if the incident didn't matter at all. "It's fine. Don't worry about it," she said casually, like it was no big deal.
Yakumo felt stunned. How could she be so unfazed? The jealousy simmered again, but this time, it was mixed with admiration. She's so calm... Yakumo thought. So confident. I wish I could be like that.
The woman, Kurenai Yuhi, stepped forward, smiling gently. "Hello, Yakumo. I'm here to help you gain control over your genjutsu. It's going to take time and patience, but we'll work through it together. I believe in your potential."
Kurenai's words eased some of Yakumo's tension. Her voice was soft, but there was a firmness to it—like she truly believed Yakumo could do it. For the first time in a long while, Yakumo felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, with the help of Kurenai and the Hokage's confidence, she could finally master her powers. Maybe she wouldn't have to be afraid of herself anymore.
Narumi, on the other hand, stood back with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp and analytical. Yakumo could feel her watching closely, and it made her feel both nervous and curious. What's she thinking? Yakumo wondered.
Yakumo felt a surge of determination rise inside her. I have to get stronger. I have to prove that I'm not just some weak, out-of-control failure. She glanced at Narumi, who had already returned to her notebook, scribbling away. Maybe... maybe we can learn from each other.
For now, she had to focus on the training ahead. With Kurenai by her side and Narumi observing, Yakumo felt a cautious hope stirring inside her, even as the anxiety of what was to come weighed heavily on her shoulders. Could this be the start of something better?
Yakumo stood in the training field, the morning light casting a soft glow over the grassy expanse. She could feel Narumi's eyes on her, observing from a distance, as if silently dissecting every move she would make. The weight of those eyes—calm, unflinching—made her stomach twist with anxiety. Why was Narumi even here? What was she hoping to see?
Kurenai's voice broke through her thoughts. "Yakumo, before we begin, I want you to take a deep breath. Relax. You're not here to be perfect, just to understand your power better."
Yakumo nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She appreciated Kurenai's kind and patient demeanor, but that familiar fear of losing control crept up once more. The flames always seemed to come when she least expected them, born from the chaos of her emotions. She glanced at Narumi again, who was sitting on a nearby rock, her head down, scribbling in her notebook. Unlike the others, Narumi didn't seem nervous or cautious around her. Instead, she looked distant, almost bored, as if nothing could faze her.
"I'm ready," Yakumo muttered, more to convince herself than anyone else.
Kurenai gave her a nod, stepping back to give her space. "We'll start simple. I want you to cast a Genjutsu on me. Something basic, just to test your control."
Yakumo swallowed hard, her throat dry. The problem had never been casting the Genjutsu—it was keeping it under control once it started. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm the storm inside her mind. Slowly, she began to weave her chakra, focusing on creating a simple image of Kurenai standing in a meadow, surrounded by a field of blooming flowers.
For a few moments, it worked. Kurenai stood within the peaceful illusion, the grass swaying softly in the breeze. But as soon as a flicker of doubt entered Yakumo's mind, her control wavered. Her heart raced, and the image started to distort—dark clouds formed overhead, and then, without warning, flames erupted. The once tranquil meadow was consumed by fire, the flames spiraling out of control.
"No… not again!" Yakumo gasped, her hands trembling as she tried to pull the flames back, but it was too late.
Kurenai swiftly dispelled the Genjutsu before it could spiral further. She approached Yakumo, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Yakumo. You're still learning. Don't let your emotions take over. This is part of the process."
"I-I'm sorry," Yakumo whispered, her head hanging low in shame. Her voice wavered with guilt. "I can't control it… it always happens. I just… don't know how to stop it."
Narumi, who had remained silent until now, stood up and walked over. Her gaze was sharp but not unkind, more like she was assessing the situation with analytical precision. "Your emotions are the trigger," she said bluntly. "The moment you started to panic, the Genjutsu shifted. It's not just about controlling your chakra; it's about controlling your mind. The second you let fear in, everything changed."
Yakumo blinked, looking up at Narumi in surprise. "My mind?"
Narumi nodded, continuing, "I've been thinking about how your Kekkei Genkai works. It's different from other Genjutsu—it doesn't just affect the mind; it warps reality in a way I haven't seen before. But your emotional state is the key. If you can stabilize that, you'll have more control over your power."
Kurenai raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What are you thinking, Narumi?"
"I've got a few ideas," Narumi replied, closing her notebook with a snap. "For now, Yakumo, you need to focus on staying calm. I'll work on something to help stabilize your chakra flow and prevent the Genjutsu from spiraling out of control. But that's only a temporary fix. You'll still have to learn how to manage your emotions on your own."
Yakumo stared at her, stunned by the calm and matter-of-fact tone. There was no sugar-coating, no soft reassurances—just the plain truth. For the first time, someone was telling her that she had to be responsible for controlling her power, not just the Kekkei Genkai.
"You think a seal can help?" Yakumo asked, her voice still trembling.
"Yes," Narumi replied simply, "but it's not a permanent solution. You'll need to master your own mind. The seal will just give you some extra time when things start to slip."
Yakumo blinked, taken aback by Narumi's practicality. No one had ever spoken to her so plainly before. It was oddly refreshing—there were no promises of instant solutions or pity. Just a straightforward plan and the acknowledgment that she had a long way to go.
Kurenai knelt beside Yakumo, her voice soft but firm. "Narumi's right. A seal might help stabilize the flow of your chakra, but ultimately, you need to learn to ground yourself emotionally. Your strength comes from within, Yakumo, and only you can fully control it."
Yakumo nodded slowly, her heart still heavy but her resolve starting to strengthen. She didn't fully understand it yet, but something in Narumi's detached honesty made her feel… less alone.
"I'll try again," Yakumo whispered, gathering her courage. She glanced at Narumi, who was already stepping back toward her spot under the tree.
Narumi's gaze was unreadable as she leaned against the trunk, crossing her arms. "Go ahead. I'm watching."
With Kurenai's guidance, Yakumo tried again. The tension in her body was obvious, but this time, the flames didn't come. She held the illusion for a little longer than before, her grip on her emotions still tenuous but improving.
Once the session ended, Yakumo sat down on the grass, exhausted but relieved. She looked up and saw Narumi sitting back down, scribbling in her notebook again. The silence between them wasn't awkward, but it was… different. Balanced, somehow.
For the first time, Yakumo didn't feel envious of Narumi. Instead, there was a flicker of curiosity, a shift in her perspective. Maybe Narumi wasn't the indifferent genius she had assumed. Maybe, in her own odd way, she was trying to help.
Before she could stop herself, Yakumo stood up and hesitated for a moment. "Thank you… for your help today," she said softly.
Narumi glanced up from her notebook, her expression neutral. "You're welcome," she replied casually, as if it was no big deal. Then she returned to her notes without a second thought.
It wasn't a grand gesture, but for Yakumo, it was enough to make her question her first impressions. There was more to Narumi than she had thought.
And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone in this struggle as she'd feared.
The training continued for weeks, with Yakumo slowly making progress under Kurenai's careful guidance and Narumi's observant eye. Her control over her Kekkei Genkai, though still far from perfect, was improving. The unconscious Genjutsu episodes became less frequent, and Narumi had even placed a seal on Yakumo's body to help regulate her chakra flow and stabilize her emotions. The seal worked like a dam, helping to control the overwhelming rush of chakra whenever Yakumo's emotions got the better of her.
Narumi's approach was always practical, rarely offering any words of comfort, but Yakumo could feel her effort. When she was observing or helping during training, Narumi was professional—almost distant. Yet, Yakumo had noticed something else in those quiet moments between sessions. Narumi could be different when she was around Kakashi or the Hokage. She seemed more playful, mischievous even, especially when she teased Kakashi, who always followed her around, reading his little orange book. Yakumo had learned his name through overhearing conversations, but she didn't know why he was always by Narumi's side.
Still, Narumi remained an enigma. At the academy, Yakumo had learned that seals were an incredibly complex art, one mastered by few, yet Narumi seemed to wield them with ease, often with a touch of pride. Yakumo tried to talk with her several times, hoping to understand her more, but Narumi often brushed her off with simple, direct answers. One day, curious about Narumi's endless note-taking and constant observation, Yakumo asked why Narumi was so interested in her training.
Narumi didn't even look up from her notebook when she replied, "You're interesting."
Yakumo's cheeks reddened at the words. Interesting? No one had ever called her that before. Weak, cursed, uncontrollable—those were the words she was used to hearing. But interesting? It was strange, and for some reason, it made her want to know more about Narumi. She didn't dare ask about Kakashi, though. The masked man was always nearby, watching silently, and Yakumo figured it was just another thing about Narumi she might never fully understand.
The weeks dragged on, and while her control had improved somewhat, the progress was slow and frustrating. Kurenai had introduced some physical training into the regimen, explaining that part of Yakumo's difficulty in controlling her Genjutsu came from her weak body. The idea was that if she could strengthen her body, her chakra control might improve too. But no matter how hard Yakumo worked, her physical strength never seemed to increase. Her body remained frail, and worse, her Genjutsu training seemed to reach a plateau. Despite Kurenai's encouragement and Narumi's constant monitoring, nothing was progressing as it should.
Yakumo started to notice the subtle changes in Kurenai's expression—small signs of frustration, hidden behind the kind words. It wasn't just Kurenai's frustration that weighed on her, though. Narumi's seal, which was supposed to help calm her emotions, was activating more frequently now, almost as if her body was starting to get used to it. She felt like a burden, a failure. No matter how hard they worked, no matter what Narumi or Kurenai tried, she couldn't break through the wall that stood between her and her Genjutsu control.
Each day felt like a repetitive cycle of effort, failure, and growing despair.
Narumi, ever patient, continued to observe from a distance, scribbling in her notebook as usual. But Yakumo could sense that even Narumi was starting to become distant. Kurenai began taking more missions, sometimes leaving for days at a time, and Yakumo couldn't shake the feeling that Kurenai was starting to give up on her.
The absence of training left her feeling more isolated, and she often found herself retreating to the solace of her paintings. Painting was the one thing she could control, the one thing that brought her peace. She would lose herself in the strokes of color, forgetting the frustration of her Kekkei Genkai, forgetting the weight of Kurenai's silent disappointment.
One afternoon, during a break from training, Yakumo sat in the field with her painting supplies. She painted herself, Narumi, and Kurenai in the training field, with the sun shining brightly overhead. It was a happy scene, the kind of day she wished they could all have. As she finished the painting, Narumi walked over and peered at her work.
Narumi glanced at Yakumo's painting, her voice casual yet sincere. "You're good at painting."
Yakumo blinked, surprised by the compliment. A small smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at Narumi. "Thanks... It helps me relax," she admitted, her voice quiet but warm. It was rare for someone to notice this side of her, let alone praise it.
Kurenai, who had been observing them both from a short distance, stepped closer. Her eyes softened as she studied the painting. "It's beautiful, Yakumo. You really have a gift." She paused, her tone gentle but tinged with something deeper. "You know, there's no shame in pursuing what makes you happy."
Yakumo's brush stilled, her heart beating a little faster. "What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly, feeling the shift in Kurenai's words.
Kurenai exhaled softly. "I know how hard you've been working, and I can see the toll it's taking on you. You're an incredible artist, Yakumo. Maybe... maybe this is where your true passion lies."
Yakumo's heart dropped into her stomach. "But... I want to be a shinobi. I want to prove that I can control my power," she insisted, her voice cracking slightly. The desperation she felt gnawed at her insides, a sharp contrast to the serene painting in front of her.
Kurenai's expression remained kind, but her eyes betrayed the worry behind her words. "Yakumo, I can see how much you're struggling. You're not like other shinobi. Your body is weak, and your Kekkei Genkai... it's dangerous. Sometimes, it feels like it's controlling you, instead of the other way around."
Yakumo's hands clenched at her sides. She felt a lump forming in her throat, her vision blurring. "But I'm trying," she whispered, as if pleading for Kurenai to understand. "I've trained so hard. I can do this, I just—"
Kurenai cut her off, though her voice was soft and full of care. "You've done everything you could, Yakumo, but sometimes... it's not about how hard you try. Some paths aren't meant to be walked. You could focus on painting, on creating a life that brings you peace. We could seal your Kekkei Genkai..."
Yakumo's breath hitched. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, twisting the knife of her deepest fear—that she wasn't good enough, that she wasn't meant to be a shinobi after all. Her painting blurred before her eyes, the image of the three of them together, the life she imagined for herself as a shinobi, slowly fading.
"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling as hot tears welled up in her eyes. "I don't want to give up..."
Kurenai's expression softened further, but Yakumo's world was already spiraling out of control. Her emotions surged like a storm breaking free, and before she could even realize what was happening, her Kekkei Genkai activated.
Dark clouds began forming in her mind, blotting out the peaceful scene she had tried to hold onto. And then, like a manifestation of her despair, a bolt of lightning appeared above Kurenai.
"No!" Yakumo screamed, realizing what she had done. Her heart pounded as panic set in, her body frozen in fear. The sky rippled with chakra, a real lightning bolt forming above Kurenai's head, ready to strike her down.
But before it could, Narumi was already in motion. Quick and deliberate, she slapped a seal onto Yakumo's forehead, instantly disrupting her chakra flow. The Genjutsu dissolved in an instant, the lightning disappearing as if it had never been there.
Yakumo's body went limp, her eyes rolling back as she collapsed unconscious, her last thought echoing in the empty space around her: I've failed again...
Kurenai stood frozen for a moment, staring at where the lightning had been. The air was still thick with tension.
Narumi exhaled, her voice calm but firm. "We need to stop this for today." She carefully removed the seal from Yakumo's forehead and looked at Kurenai. "We're pushing her too hard."
Kurenai nodded, though her face betrayed her worry. "You're right… Let's take her back and let her rest."
As they lifted Yakumo to take her back, Narumi glanced down at the unconscious girl in her arms. Despite everything—the uncontrolled Genjutsu, the near-disaster—there was no frustration in Narumi's eyes. Only quiet determination.
She's far from giving up, Narumi thought, observing Yakumo's peaceful face. Even if she doesn't realize it yet, there's something inside her that refuses to stop trying.
Narumi had been intrigued by Yakumo from the start, not just because of her unique and dangerous Kekkei Genkai, but because of the girl herself. As she had watched Yakumo struggle week after week, there was something else Narumi had come to respect—her perseverance. Despite the failures, despite Kurenai's frustrations, Yakumo kept pushing forward, even when her body failed her. And now, as Narumi stood over her, she realized something more.
Maybe it's time for a different approach, she mused, her thoughts shifting. This isn't just about stabilizing her chakra or controlling her emotions anymore. Yakumo has potential—a lot of it. It would be a waste to let it go untapped.
Narumi's mind raced with new ideas. Yakumo didn't need more conventional training—she needed something tailored to her, something that would give her a foundation beyond just brute strength or raw chakra control. Perhaps there was a way to approach Yakumo's condition that hadn't been explored yet, something to help her find stability in her unique power without suppressing it.
As they carried Yakumo off the field, Narumi made up her mind. She wouldn't let Yakumo's potential go to waste. She had to find a way to unlock it, not by forcing her into a mold that didn't fit, but by embracing the power that made her different.
She's interesting, Narumi thought with a small, rare smile. And I don't want to see that potential go to waste.
As they left the training ground, Narumi's mind buzzed with plans—seals to create, techniques to test. But more than anything, she was determined to do what she could for Yakumo, not just because of her Kekkei Genkai, but because of the person struggling underneath it.
-end-
Note: This is not yuri