Chapter LVI: Dark Roots
"Hey! All of you had better shut the hell up!" the belligerent Hidden Stone intruder bellowed with disgust, his spit flying from his mouth in all directions. His maniacal, bloodshot eyes darted wildly around the room, scanning the terrified faces of the children who were still screaming and crying. "Unless you all want to die today!" he added, a grotesque grin spreading across his chapped lips, revealing yellowed, chipped teeth.
Akane, standing resolutely at the front of the classroom, refused to let the intruder have his way. In a tremendous display of courage, the raven-haired instructor's hand darted down to the ninja tools pouch strapped to her right thigh, gritting her teeth at the man's heinous warnings. She pulled out a sharp kunai and pointed it directly at the hostile Stone ninja—a silent but unmistakable threat.
"I won't let you hurt them!" she said firmly, her fingers tightening around the handle of the deadly weapon. The bald man's vile gaze shifted from the terrified children to Akane, his smirk widening as he took in the sight. The woman's hands were trembling as they held onto the knife, and it was the same case for her legs, fidgeting where she stood. Not unlike a hungry shark detecting blood underwater, he took in the faint scent of fear clinging to Akane. To him, she was nothing more than an imminent casualty, a desperate woman just putting on a brave face. He took a menacing step forward, his shadow stretching across the classroom like a dark omen.
"Ohhhh. We have a hero in our midst," the Stone ninja cooed, his voice low and mocking. He reached an arm back, unsheathing a long, serrated sword that had been strapped to his back. The blade gleamed wickedly as he advanced toward Akane, step by ominous step. The children's cries grew louder, their pleas for help echoing through the room, but they would be forever unanswered and unheard. Unbeknownst to them, all of the higher skilled adults in the academy had already been effortlessly slain.
Young Gyatsō, his crimson eyes wide with fear, watched in dismay as Akane took up a defencive stance, her kunai held strongly in front of her. Her eyes burned with determination, but Gyatsō could see the obvious tremble in her hands.
"Akane Sensei! Please, get out of there!" the child begged, his voice breaking as tears started to sting his eyes. He was the only student still standing, the rest of his classmates huddled beneath their desks, trembling, praying for this nightmare to end. Akane's green eyes remained locked on the approaching threat, but for a fleeting moment, her gaze softened as it met Gyatsō's. Her intense expression melted into one of warmth and affection, a look the white-haired child knew all too well. Gyatsō's stomach churned as he stared back at her, his heart sinking under the weight of the unspoken message in her eyes.
For what felt like an eternity, Akane looked at Gyatsō with a fondness that spoke volumes. It was as if she were silently acknowledging what was to come, her expression filled with love and reassurance. Gyatsō's tears flowed freely now, his small frame shaking as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of the moment. He could feel the unspoken words she was conveying. Then, her lips moved in a hushed whisper that was easily drowned out by the chaos around them. But Gyatsō could read her lips perfectly, the two words forever searing themselves into his mind:
"Run, Gyatsō."
The older Gyatsō recoils at his teacher's tender words, his body stiffening as if struck by an invisible force. He forcibly turns his head away, unable to bear the sight of what he knows is to come next. For years, he had convinced himself that his past emotions were buried deep, locked away in some forgotten corner of his mind. But now, they surge to the surface with a vengeance, flooding every cell in his body with a raw, overwhelming intensity, a tidal wave of grief that threatens to drown him.
The man's anguished gaze remains fixed on the floor, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. The sounds around him are utterly unbearable: the heart-wrenching cry of his younger self screaming out Akane's name, the sickening thud of a body hitting the wooden floorboards, and the unmistakable, rhythmic dripping of blood pooling onto the floor. Each sound feels like a dagger twisting in his chest, but he can't bring himself to look—not yet.
It's only when the Stone ninja speaks again, his menacing voice cutting through the turmoil like his sharp blade, that Gyatsō is snapped out of his trance. Slowly, reluctantly, he turns his head to face the scene before him, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight that greets him is one he had tried so hard to forget, yet it's etched into his memory with painful breath catches in his throat, his chest tightening as the weight of the moment crashes over him. The emotions he had represses for so long are now impossible to ignore.
"Well, kids, this is what stupidity gets you!" the bald ninja had sneered, looking down at Akane's writhing body with an evil satisfaction. His ninja sword had deeply penetrated her through the back, the once silver blade turned dark crimson with her rapidly pooling blood. The soft cries and whimpers of the children seemed to excite the freak, his twisted grin widening as he reveled in their despair.
Akane laid sprawled on her belly, her emerald eyes dimming with each passing second, the light in them fading as her life slipped away. The Stone ninja's large hand wrapped around the hilt of his blade, and with a horrifying wet squelch, he yanked it free, raising the bloodied weapon into the air. Drops of crimson fell to the floor, staining the wooden boards beneath him.
Gyatsō's terrified eyes were locked on Akane's pale face, his young mind struggling to process the gruesome scene before him. Memories of her constant praises, her warm smiles, and her constant affection flooded his thoughts, each one a painful reminder of what he had just lost. The longer the child stares into his teacher's fading eyes, the more despair consumes him, bringing the boy closer and closer to a state of unparalleled misery.
'How could this have happened? Did I do something wrong to deserve this?' The questions raced through his mind, but there were no answers—only the crushing weight of guilt and grief. His chest heaved as sobs wracked his small body, and he fell to his knees, his hands trembling uncontrollably. The Stone ninja scoffed at the pathetic sight, clearly amused by the child's anguish. With a casual flick of his wrist, he flung the red liquid off his sword, as if Akane's lifeblood were nothing more than a mere inconvenience. In one smooth motion, he slid the blade into the sheath on his back, then turned to face the rest of the cowering academy students.
"Listen up!" he boomed, his voice echoing through the classroom and causing the children to flinch. "We of the Hidden Stone are staying in your weak little village for the time being! Right now, we're fighting against an army of Hidden Leaf shinobi! We're at war, you see!" he explained, one hand resting on his hip as if he were delivering a casual announcement rather than a declaration of terror.
Gyatsō found every word the man spoke to be venomous, heinous, a profound insult to his very being. The grieving child slapped his hands over his ears, his teary eyes squeezing shut as he tried to block out the horrors unfolding around him. He wanted to disappear, to cut himself off from the nightmare that had become his reality.
But the gesture didn't go unnoticed. The Stone ninja's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into an angry snarl as he spotted Gyatsō's ill-advised defiance. In an instant, he appeared in front of the child, his towering figure casting a dark shadow over the small boy. The ninja's teeth gritted, his expression one of pure menace as he stared down at the trembling child.
This must have been some kind of horrible genjutsu, right? One of the academy's skilled genjutsu instructors must have trapped Gyatsō in a deep, twisted illusion. Still reeling from shock, the boy hadn't even noticed the ominous presence of the Stone ninja looming directly above him. Gyatsō continued to sob quietly, his body trembling as he was forced to keep seeing Akane's warm and loving face, even through the suffocating darkness of his tightly shut eyelids.
'Why is this happening...? Akane Sensei is... no, this can't be real... Akane Sensei is alive... this is just... an illusion...' The thought looped endlessly in his mind, each repetition of the belief offering only a fleeting sense of comfort before the terrifying reality continued to break through.
"Whatcha coverin' your ears up for?! Huh, kid?!" the Stone ninja growled above the child, his voice like a rusty gate scraping against concrete. Gyatsō could just barely hear those vile, disgusting words, trying his hardest to write them off as genjutsu, a clever illusion designed to deceive and manipulate. However, what happened immediately next was undoubtedly no illusion, no trick of the mind. In a blur of motion, the Stone ninja suddenly threw a powerful knee forward, striking the white-haired child square in the temple with a sickening, bone-shattering crunch.
Gyatsō was sent flying back with frightening speed, his small body easily crashing through the wooden wall as if it were made of paper. He harshly skidded against the ground like a rag doll, his limbs splayed out in every direction. Before he could even process what had happened, the child was already fading in and out of consciousness, a grisly line of blood quickly running down his nose and tainting the wooden floorboards as it dripped down profusely. The sound of his own ragged breathing was the only thing that filled his ears, a stark contrast to the eerie silence that had now fallen over the room.
The present Gyatsō watched the chaos with an expression mixed between immense sadness and unreleased rage, his red eyes burning with a deep-seated anger. He slowly walked over to his injured younger self, standing above the child's body silently, as if frozen in time. He crouched down and reached his hand out slowly, wanting to aid the inconsolable boy, to comfort him and take away his pain. However, as his pale hand touched the child's, it phased right through him, as if he were a ghost. Gyatsō gasped at the sight, his eyes widening in shock, and then gritted his teeth once more, staring down at the child's bruised face with complete powerlessness.
"Hmph. Damn brat," the Stone ninja muttered under his breath, oblivious to the older Gyatsō's presence. For a few moments, he looked over at the white-haired boy struggling to even lift his head, then redirected his attention to the rest of the academy students, his cold, predatory eyes scanning the room. Most of them had forced themselves to be completely quiet by this point, their small, trembling hands slapped over their mouths to both suppress their terrified screams, as well as the contents of their stomachs from pouring out. The sight of Akane's gored corpse was an abysmal sight to the innocent children, a gruesome reminder of the brutality and violence that lurked in the ninja world. They wouldn't dare test the man's patience, not after what they had just witnessed. Gyatsō's whimpering off to the side served as a grim lesson to them, a warning of what would happen if they dared to cross the ninja.
"Good, stay nice and quiet, kids," the bald man started, before his lips twisted into an even more sadistic grin. "Don't get any funny ideas, I don't wanna slaughter all of you," he continued, his words laced with a sinister intent. "Instead... I'll just leave your village's pathetic little army to use you all as cannon fodder." The despicable thought seemed to gratify him, and he let out a menacing cackle, clearly amused with the fear that still radiated from the children. As he took in their horrified expressions, his grin only grew wider. The students were frozen in place, their teary eyes fixed on him with a mix of fear and revulsion. They were unsure of what to expect, and the ninja's unpredictable behaviour only added to their anxiety.
The ninja's sudden movement — as he had quickly turned on his heel to face the damaged entryway — caused some of the students to tense up again, flinching out of frightened instinct. They didn't know if he would suddenly attack them just as he had done to Gyatsō. The white-haired boy in question let out a strained groan as he finally managed to raise his head from the wooden floor, and then slowly, his chest. It took all of his strength just to sit up on his elbows, and he looked around his surroundings with a dazed expression, blood still quickly trailing down his nose.
The bald man cast one last, disdainful glance at the academy students as he strode toward the entrance, glaring at them over his shoulder. "One more thing," he muttered menacingly. "I suggest you Grass brats stay right here. I might just run into you outside..." The threat lingered heavily in the air, an overbearing heaviness that seemed to hang over the room. His cruel, dark chuckling echoed down the hallway, gradually fading as he walked away, leaving behind a trail of fear and uncertainty.
Once the ninja was out of sight, the students remained frozen, processing the horror of what had just transpired. A sense of dread still clung to the room like a thick fog, and their minds raced with a mixture of confusion and fear. Gyatsō, struggling to sit up from where he laid, looked around the room with a furious, yet sorrowful expression contorting his young face. He burned with a desire for revenge, the image of the ninja's threatening smirk clouding every fiber of his mind. But his body, too weak and exhausted, betrayed him, and he collapsed back onto the floor, unable to rise.
The students, still reeling from the encounter, slowly started to move again, their gazes filled with concern as they fixed their eyes on Gyatsō. They weren't sure how to act, their instincts battling with the lingering terror from the invader's words. The threat still hovered over them, an invisible shadow that left them feeling extremely vulnerable. They all knew that the ninja was still out there, and none of them truly knew what he was capable of.
As the minutes passed, the tense silence in the room began to break. The students, shaken but determined, gradually began to regain some composure. Though the fear in their eyes remained, they could feel their resolve growing, little by little. They knew they couldn't let the ninja's threats control them. They were the future of the Hidden Grass Village. They would stand strong, no matter the cost, even if it meant confronting the darkness that had been forced upon them.
A tall girl with violet hair tied into a long ponytail sprang into action, leaping out from beneath her desk with newfound determination. Her onyx eyes, sharp and focused, locked onto Gyatsō, who lay sprawled out on the floor, breathing heavily. Without hesitation, she landed gracefully next to him, her gaze full of concern as she knelt down beside the injured boy.
"Stay still, Mataba. I can help," she whispered urgently, placing both palms gently on his chest. She scooted closer, her fingers trembling slightly as she leaned in to steady herself.
For a few tense moments, silence filled the room. Then, a faint green glow began to emanate from her hands, pulsing gently at first before gradually intensifying. Despite only being a young, inexperienced academy student, the girl had already mastered the basics of medical ninjutsu, a skill far beyond her years. Though her technique was still developing, and her control was far less than perfect, the healing chakra in her hands began to work its magic.
Gyatsō's ragged, panicked breathing slowly shifted into more controlled, shallow gasps. The blood that had been pouring from his nose turned to slow, sluggish drips before eventually ceasing altogether. His body, once trembling in pain and fear, began to relax under the soothing warmth of the medical chakra, and the tension in the room eased, if only slightly.
One of Gyatsō's crimson eyes slowly fluttered open, his vision still nothing more than a collection of blurry shapes and vague figures, the result of the brutal blow to his head. His mind swirled in a fog, struggling to focus, until, at last, his sight gradually cleared. And there, hovering above him, was the face of a familiar classmate—Keiko Fujita.
Her violet hair framed her face, and her teary eyes locked onto his with an intensity that matched her usual stern demeanor. Gyatsō immediately recognised her: Keiko, the tall, no-nonsense girl who commanded respect with her sharp gaze and serious expression. She had always been his academic rival, consistently scoring just barely beneath him in every test and assignment. Yet now, she was here, looking down at him with something far more vulnerable than the usual cool confidence she always projected.
As Keiko's tears fell in gentle drops, landing softly on Gyatsō's pale face, he couldn't help but weakly chuckle. The sight of the normally stoic girl, so clearly shaken and emotional, was so out of place that it almost seemed surreal. Keiko's eyes suddenly widened in surprise at the boy's small laugh, her grip on his chest tightening instinctively, her fingers trembling as if trying to steady herself in the face of the unexpected sound.
"Mataba... what's so funny?" Keiko muttered softly, as more tears slipped down her cheeks, continuing to fall onto his face. Her brows furrowed in confusion, her usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of the moment. Her face, normally a mask of calmness, was now etched with worry and fear, her onyx eyes searching his for answers.
Gyatsō slowly managed to open his other eye, his vision still blurry but focused enough to see Keiko clearly. He gazed up at her, offering a faint, almost imperceptible smile—one that was soft, genuine, and filled with gratitude. The sight of the usually stern Keiko so vulnerable stirred something deep within him. Despite the pain coursing through his body, the warmth of her presence offered him a fleeting sense of comfort. He felt a sense of peace wash over him, a sense of being understood and cared for.
"...Thank you, Keiko," he whispered, his voice raspy and weak, but sincere. His words were barely audible, but they were filled with a deep emotion, a sense of appreciation and gratitude that he couldn't express in any other way. As he spoke, his crimson eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the only sound being the soft falling of her tears onto his face.
The moment was fragile, fleeting, and yet, it was a moment that would stay with Gyatsō forever. It was a moment of connection, of understanding, and of comfort, and it was a moment that would give him the strength to carry on, even in the face of the overwhelming pain and adversity that was sure to come soon. As he lay there, surrounded by the darkness and the silence, Gyatsō felt a sense of hope, a sense of possibility, and it was all because of Keiko, and the tears she had shed for him.
Keiko hesitated for a moment, her tears still glistening on her cheeks as she looked down at him. His words, though faint, were enough to cause her heart to skip a beat. She had never seen Gyatsō so vulnerable, so fragile. The usually composed and quiet boy—who always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone—was now lying on the floor in front of her, broken and bleeding.
Her grip on his chest loosened just slightly, the weight of his body beneath her palms reminding her of how close to death he'd come. She could still hear the sounds of the chaos—the cries of her classmates, the harsh echo of the Stone shinobi's threats—and yet, in this moment, it felt as though everything had paused. The weight of the world outside the classroom faded, leaving only the two of them, locked in this delicate exchange.
"Mataba," she said again, her voice softer now, almost as though she were trying to convince herself that this was real. "You... you're still here. You're okay." The words barely left her lips before she felt the sob catch in her throat. The weight of everything that had happened in such a short span of time—the violence, the fear, the uncertainty—it all rushed back, crashing down on her like a tsunami. She had tried to be strong for him, tried to heal him, but the truth was, the girl was terrified.
Gyatsō's smile grew faint, though his exhaustion was clear in the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The blood had stopped dripping from his nose, but his body was still heavy with the toll the encounter had taken on him. His crimson eyes, usually intense and full of fire, were now dulled by pain and fatigue. Yet there was a flicker of gratitude there, a light that seemed to say more than his words ever could.
"Just... keep going, Keiko," he murmured, his young voice barely more than a whisper. "You're... stronger than you think."
Keiko's hand trembled slightly as she wiped away another tear from her cheek, her heart aching at his words. She hadn't known he could still be so calm, even in the face of everything that had just happened. Despite the blood, despite the terror, Gyatsō still had that quiet strength, an inner resolve that seemed almost impossible to break.
But Keiko knew that even the strongest could be broken. She had seen it in him before, the quiet moments where his confidence faltered, where the weight of his own doubts crept into his eyes. And in this moment, she understood. He was no different from any of them. He was just a boy—a boy who had seen too much too soon, forced to carry burdens no nine-year-old should have to bear. But this was just the way the ninja world worked. Children even younger than them had seen even harsher scenarios.
The faintest sound of movement caught her attention, and Keiko turned her head to see the other students, their own tears freely falling down their faces as they circled around Akane's motionless body. It wasn't just Keiko and Gyatsō now; it was all of them. They were in this together, bound by the terror of the present and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
"Keiko, we need to—" Gyatsō's voice faltered, his breath coming in jagged gasps. His body was clearly struggling to hold itself upright, and the last thing Keiko wanted was for him to try to push himself further.
"Shh, Mataba," she whispered, her hand pressing gently against his chest to keep him still. "You need to rest now. We've all been through enough." Her gaze softened as she glanced at his face, at the boy who had been so strong for so long, now brought to the brink of collapse. "I'll protect you. We'll get through this together. I promise."
Gyatsō met her eyes again, the depth of their exchange speaking volumes more than any words ever could. The bond that had formed between them, forged in the fires of both competition and camaraderie, was stronger than either of them could have anticipated. Keiko gently helped Gyatsō sit up, supporting his weight as he struggled to remain conscious. She could feel the warmth of his body, the weight of everything he had endured, and it only made her more resolute. She would not let this defeat them. Not today.
"Stay with me, Mataba," she said softly. "We're not finished yet. We'll make those Stone bastards pay for what they've done." Gyatsō had stared into the girl's eyes for a few somber moments, his own filled with a mix of grief and determination, before nodding his head confidently. "And nothing will stop us," he added with a firm voice, despite the sorrow weighing heavily on his heart. His gaze then shifted to the front of the classroom, where Akane's lifeless body lay. Keiko seemed to be thinking the same, her dark eyes glancing over her shoulder to take in the dismal scene. Before they could even think about fighting back, they knew they had to pay their respects to their fallen teacher one final time.
With a gentle touch, the violet-haired girl helped Gyatsō rise to his feet, his arm resting lightly on her neck for support. Together, the two children slowly made their way over to their fellow classmates at the front of the room, each step heavy with dread. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of their tragic loss pressed down on them with every movement. For those short moments, time had seemed to almost come to a complete halt, passing on with an immense hesitation.
When they finally reached Akane's slain body, Gyatsō's fists clenched so tightly that his nails broke through his pale skin, drawing blood. His young mind struggled to comprehend how another human being could treat one of their own so brutally, so mercilessly. It was in that moment that Gyatsō realised that Stone ninja was no human at all—he was a monster. A foul, unrelenting creature born from the hatred and chaos of this ninja world, this hell.
"Akane Sensei," Gyatsō began, his voice trembling as his chest tightened with resolve. "Thank you for all that you've taught us." Tears streamed down his face, unchecked and unashamed, as the image of Akane's pale, lifeless face burned itself into his memory, into his very soul. He knelt beside her, his small hands trembling as he reached out to touch her cold fingers one last time. "Please watch over us, Sensei," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Your death will not be in vain." The words felt inadequate, but they carried the weight of his promise—a vow to honour her memory, to fight for the future she had believed in, and to ensure that her sacrifice would never be forgotten.
Gyatsō and Keiko remained at the front of the classroom for a moment longer, their mournful gazes lingering on their teacher's motionless form. The room around them seemed to hold its breath, every student still too shocked, too scared to move. The others huddled together, eyes evident of fear, faces pale as they watched Gyatsō and Keiko with wide, hesitant expressions. But there was no time to dwell on their emotions. They couldn't afford it.
Gyatsō's hand twitched involuntarily, his blood still staining his palm where his clenched fists had drawn it. He wanted to do something. He HAD to do something. But his body was still too weak, his wounds too fresh. Keiko's medical ninjutsu was enough to rouse him, but he was certain he wouldn't be of much use in a battle. The Stone shinobi's attack had left a mark not just on his flesh, but on his spirit. He could feel the burning need for vengeance building inside him, threatening to consume him whole.
Keiko, sensing the intense storm of emotions swirling in him, took a steadying breath and turned to face the rest of the class.
"We need to move," she declared, her voice stronger now, infused with the same powerful determination that had always set her apart from her peers. She wasn't just one of the top students—they all knew she was a natural leader, even if she rarely showed it. But now, with Akane gone, there was no one else. They had to follow her.
The room was filled with silence for a moment longer, then, as if on cue, one of the students, a younger blonde boy with wide, brown eyes, shakily rose to his feet. "W-what do we do now?" he asked.
Keiko's gaze softened for a fraction of a second, but her expression quickly steeled itself. She knew what needed to be done, even if she didn't have all the answers yet. "We fight back. We survive. We protect what's left of the Grass Village, and we make sure to avenge Akane Sensei." Her words were heavy, each one weighed down by the enormity of the task at hand, but there was no question in her voice. She meant every word.
Gyatsō stood beside her, his once uncertain stance now a picture of resolve. "Keiko's right," he said, his voice low but filled with a quiet power. "Akane Sensei gave her life to protect us. We can't just sit here and cower. It's time... to grow up."
The academy students exchanged uncertain glances, but the fire in Gyatsō's words sparked something in them. It was small at first, a flicker of something brighter beneath their fear. They had to carry on. For Akane. For their future.
Keiko stepped forward, glancing back at Gyatsō with a silent promise. They were in this together. Her intense onyx eyes then scanned the room, taking in each student, each terrified face, and she made a decision. "We'll need to prepare. Gather what you can. We'll start with medical supplies, food, anything we can use. We don't know how long we'll be out there."
Without another word, the students began moving, some shakily, others with more determination, as they ransacked the room for anything that might help. Gyatsō stayed near the front, his head still reeling, Akane's death repeatedly playing in his mind. He could hear the clatter of supplies being gathered around him, the frantic whispers of his classmates, but it was distant, as if all sound had faded into the background.
He was alone with his thoughts, with the memory of her.
'Akane Sensei...'
Her lessons had always been more than just academics. The kind woman taught them to survive, to be strong, and to fight with purpose. She'd instilled in them the idea that, no matter the odds, they had the ability to overcome. Gyatsō had always admired that strength, but now, faced with the harsh reality of her death, the child realised something he hadn't truly understood before.
Akane Kyūden's strength was not just in her jutsu. It was in the way she had lived her life, in the way she had given everything for her students, for the Hidden Grass, and for the very future of the ninja world, entrusted to his generation.
'We'll make them pay, Sensei. I swear it.'
The anger that had simmered inside Gyatsō began to grow, fueling a fire that he had not yet fully been able to grasp. His body may have been weakened, but his determination was sharper than ever before. He would not rest until every last invading Hidden Stone shinobi was made to answer for their crimes. And with Keiko by his side, they would fight. They would fight until there was nothing left.
A familiar voice broke him from his thoughts. Keiko was standing by the door, her eyes focused. "Mataba," she called, her tone softer now, though the resolve in it had not wavered. "Are you ready?"
He nodded, his face a mask of quiet determination. "Yeah. Let's do this."
With a final glance around the room, Gyatsō and Keiko led the way out, stepping into the unknown with nothing but the memory of their fallen teacher to guide them. The world outside had changed forever. But they were still standing, still alive, and that meant they had a chance.
The present Gyatsō silently watches the group of children as they file out of the room, their small bodies trembling with fear and grief. His mop of white bangs falls over his forehead, nearly obscuring his eyes, just as it used to when he was a child. He stands still for a moment, his gaze lingering on Akane's corpse, her dim green eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. A strained exhale escapes his lips, heavy with the weight of memories he had tried so hard to subdue. He folds his arms tightly across his chest, as if building a wall between himself and the ghost of his past.
With gentle, unhurried steps, he begins to follow after the children, his movements so quiet that the wooden floorboards don't even creak beneath his feet. His face is shadowed with an afflicted expression, the pain of old wounds resurfacing as he walks away from the woman who had once been his guiding light. Each step feels heavier than the last, the echoes of her teachings and the warmth of her presence haunting him as he moves forward, leaving behind the shattered remnants of a time he can never reclaim.
Gyatsō and Keiko moved cautiously, their footsteps as silent as possible as they made their way through the empty hallways of the academy. Their classmates, still shaken but resolute, followed closely behind them, each one visually tense. The sounds of battle reverberated through the walls of the building, distant but unmistakable— strained shouts, the loud clash of metal, the deafening crackle of jutsu being unleashed. It was pure chaos, an unforgiving war that had come right to their doorstep, and it felt as though the very walls were trembling under the weight of the violence outside.
Gyatsō could hear the cries of pain and the roar of explosions, each sound a sharp reminder of the brutality they were witnessing. Back at home, his father had regularly told the boy of the endless provocations the Five Great Nations selfishly imposed on one another, until all-out war eventually broke out. The Third Great Ninja War had started, and now, its ruthless bloodshed was being spread to the neutral, uninvolved Hidden Grass Village. Gyatsō's heart pounded in his chest as he strained to keep his breath steady. They were only children—what hope did they have against such a force? But they had no choice but to press on, to survive. For Akane.
Keiko moved a few paces in front of him, her keen black eyes always scanning the shadows for any sign of danger ahead. Her violet hair, once tied neatly into a ponytail, now fell messily around her shoulders, but she didn't care. She was focused, every muscle tense as she listened carefully to the sounds coming from the street outside. Every now and then, she would glance over her shoulder at Gyatsō, her expression deadpan, but he could see the tightness in her jaw, the flicker of determination in her gaze.
"We need to stay out of sight," she whispered urgently. "If we're not careful, we could walk straight into the heart of the fight. Needless to say, we're not ready for that."
Gyatsō nodded without a word, his jaw clenched tight as his gaze narrowed. The distant battle outside seemed to intensify with each passing second, the intense crackling of various ninjutsu mixing with the sharp whistling of shuriken slicing through the air. The sounds of screams and explosions echoed down the hallway, leaving no doubt about the chaos that was erupting beyond the academy walls. Gyatsō strained to focus on the noise, trying to make sense of the direction the battle was coming from. No matter which way they turned, though, one thing was clear—there was no escaping the brutality that had been forced upon their home.
They kept moving cautiously down the hallway, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. A wild strand of Keiko's hair would occasionally fall in front of her eyes, but she'd sharply blow her breath to push it away, not allowing for a single obstruction to distract her. Gyatsō's eyes darted around with every sound that reached his ears, his every step calculated and precise, his instincts telling him to remain as alert as possible. Since their home had been invaded by two hostile foreign nations, any sound, any movement, was a potential threat.
Reaching a corner of the hallway, Keiko stopped and motioned for the group to follow suit. She pressed her back to the wall, tilting her head toward the door that led to the outer courtyard. Her ear was close to it, straining to catch any sounds from the terrifying world outside. Gyatsō mirrored her movements, his heart pounding in his chest as he too tried to discern any clue that would tell them where the enemy had gone. It was quiet for a moment. Just the distant rumble of the ensuing battle, the muted sounds of destruction still raging outside.
Then, out of nowhere, the unmistakable sound of boots crunching against gravel reached their ears. Several sets of footsteps, heavy and in unison. They were not the frantic, panicked steps of fleeing civilians, but the measured, confident tread of trained killers—Stone shinobi, no doubt. Gyatsō felt his stomach twist with dread as the weight of the situation settled in. They were getting closer by the second.
Keiko's eyes flicked to Gyatsō, her expression intense but calm. They both knew it in that instant—they were too close. They couldn't risk being spotted now.
"Stay down!" she whispered, her voice a sharp command despite the tension in the air. Her eyes moved to their classmates, urging them to crouch low against the wall and stay hidden in the shadows. The group obeyed without hesitation, huddling together as quietly as possible, holding their breaths. The silence in the hallway felt suffocating as they waited, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. Every footstep that grew louder brought with it a rising strain, a sense of imminent danger.
Time seemed to slow.
Then, the ominous sound of a door creaking open broke the silence, and the group froze up. It was followed by the sharp scrape of metal against wood, the sound of boots moving just beyond their hiding place. Someone was coming. Someone important. The air grew even heavier, charged with the threat of what was to come.
Gyatsō and Keiko exchanged a brief but piercing look, their hearts racing in unison. The urgency of the moment gripped them both. They needed to move, to escape, to do something—but they couldn't. Not with the Stone ninjas so close. Their eyes flicked back to the door, fear clawing at their chests. The sound of those approaching footsteps grew closer, each step more deliberate, more menacing than the last.
And then, like a shadow falling over the room, the door opened wider, revealing the silhouette of the very man Gyatsō had hoped to avoid. The voice that followed sliced through the tense silence, deep and taunting, laced with just as much cruel amusement as before.
"You damn brats," the bald Stone ninja snarled, his hostility as evident as ever. "I told you to stay out of my way."
Keiko stiffened, and Gyatsō's eyes widened as the man stepped forward, flanked by ten other Hidden Stone shinobi. The group of them moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each one wearing the distinctive slate-gray flak jackets of the Hidden Stone Village, their expressions cold and blood lusted. They carried weapons—kunai, shuriken, and long, wickedly curved blades that glinted ominously in the low light of the hallway.
One of the bald ninja's comrades, a tall, middle-aged man with long, straight brown hair, looked down at the group of academy students with visible disappointment. A heavy, resigned sigh escaped his lips as his ocean-blue eyes flicked momentarily to the bald ninja standing before him.
"Captain Masaru," he spoke, his voice bitter and hoarse. "They're just kids. Here I was, expecting a real fight, maybe with some Leaf Jonin."
He casually propped his menacing broadsword over his shoulder, the heavy metal making a soft clink as it shifted. The sound echoed slightly in the stillness of the hallway. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze returning to Gyatsō's group.
"So be it," he added. "We'll have to get the blood pumping some way, right?"
Gyatsō's pulse spiked as the bald man —Masaru — swept his vile gaze over the students huddled in the shadows, his eyes narrowing when they locked onto Gyatsō's. That same cruel, twisted grin spread across his face, and for a moment, Gyatsō felt like he was going to vomit.
"So, you're still alive," Masaru sneered, mocking the frozen children before him. "How fortunate. We'll see how long that lasts."
His words sent a shiver down Gyatsō's spine, but there was no time to dwell on fear. As the Stone captain took a step forward, his squad followed suit, flanking him in perfect formation. The air grew thick with hostility, charged with a terrifying energy that pressed down on the young children like a dark weight. The academy students, still crouched low behind the wall, exchanged panicked glances, their hearts pounding in their chests. Some of them shifted on their feet, aiming to make a daring escape. But it was too late.
Masaru's squad had already surrounded them.
Keiko rose slowly, her breath shaky but her posture firm, like a tower trying to resist a storm. Her onyx eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and determination, her body standing tall despite the overwhelming odds. Gyatsō, though still weak from his previous encounter with Masaru, followed her lead, pushing himself up with great effort. His fists clenched at his sides, the pain from his wounds a constant reminder of his vulnerability. But there was something else, something burning deep within him. The fire of defiance. A fire that Akane herself had brought to life.
Keiko's voice broke the silence, her words sharp and confident. "You think you can defeat us?" she snapped, her tone daring but with an unmistakable edge of fear lurking beneath. She was trying to hold it together, trying to convince both herself and the others that they were not helpless—that they weren't already doomed. But even she knew the truth. The odds were too stacked against them.
Masaru's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his dark chuckles echoing ominously through the hallway. "Defeat you?" he repeated, as if savouring the child's words. "No. I'm just here to finish what I started."
His smirk widened, like a predator who could already taste the victory. Without another word, he raised his hand, signaling to his team. In a single, fluid motion, the squad began to advance, closing in on them by the second.
The students tensed up, muscles coiled, every instinct screaming at them to move, to run. But there was no escape. The walls of the academy felt like they were closing in, and with each passing second, their options dwindled. The only way out now was through the Stone shinobi, and Gyatsō knew that the path ahead was a very dangerous one.
As the Stone shinobi advanced, their shadowed figures stretching long and menacing across the hallway, Gyatsō felt his heart race in his chest. The air felt thicker, suffocating with the weight of the inevitable confrontation. Keiko's youthful, determined stare locked onto him for a brief moment, and he saw the same fear mirrored in her dark eyes. But there was no turning back. This was the moment they had been dreading; the moment they had no choice but to face head-on.
This was it.
There was no other option but to fight.
Gyatsō's breath hitched as he quickly reached down into his ninja pouch, brandishing a kunai and gripping it tightly. His mind raced, various battle strategies flashing through his head, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. They were outmatched, outnumbered, and exhausted. The Stone assailants were relentless, and they had been trained for war. They had been prepared for moments like this—when the world seemed to crumble, and survival depended solely on slaughtering the enemy. Meanwhile, Gyatsō's own group had just barely started their lives as shinobi. Most of them hadn't even mastered the basics of chakra control. As the grim realisation drilled deeper into his head, the boy found himself to be hyperventilating, all of his limbs trembling in fear.
'We're all going to die here!' he dismally thought, tears starting to sting his eyes. 'What do I do...?! What do I —'
Keiko's soft hand suddenly reached out, her fingers brushing against his with a quiet but firm urgency. Gyatsō's gaze drifted downward, his eyes lingering on her hand for a moment, feeling the warmth of her touch seep into his skin. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, dark and intense, filled with unspoken words and determination.
"Together," she whispered.
The words sank into Gyatsō's chest like a comforting weight, grounding him in the moment. Without a word, he tightened his grip around her hand, the warmth and strength of it offering him a fleeting sense of reassurance. His heart raced in his chest, but there was a calmness settling within him now. He nodded at her, his silent response filled with resolve as he composed himself.
Masaru's stone-cold glare locked onto Gyatsō, and for the briefest of moments, their eyes met—two souls, both scarred by the violence of this world, now standing at the precipice of their own battle.
And then, as the first strike was launched, everything erupted into chaos.
The present Gyatsō, quietly standing some distance behind the academy students, watches on with a dark expression, his eyes fixed intently on the scene unfolding before him. The white-haired man's face is a mask of horror, his features twisted in a mixture of disgust and despair, as he hears the mortifying sound of metal effortlessly cutting through flesh, the panicked screams of his old classmates bouncing off the walls like a chilling echo, and the sound of blood dripping down to the floor.