The week after the funeral, the entire village existed in a strange in-between state.
The war had ended, but peace had not yet settled.
Repairs were underway. Memorial incense still burned. And everywhere—markets, tea shops, training grounds—there was only one topic of discussion:
The selection of the Fourth Hokage.
But none of it concerned Akira.
Politics did not matter to him.
Strength did.
For an entire week, he remained inside his home.
He cleaned every corner again, reorganized storage, and sorted through books. The physical work kept his thoughts steady.
Then he studied.
Chakra was the foundation of everything in this world.
It was formed by combining physical energy and mental energy. The better the balance, the greater the control. The greater the control, the stronger the shinobi.
The true difference between ordinary ninja and clan ninja, however, lay in bloodline.
Clans like the Hyūga and Uchiha possessed naturally larger chakra reserves. That alone made them feared.
Blood carried advantage.
Akira had awakened his Byakugan at the age of four.
Earlier than most.
Most talented Hyūga awakened around six. Some much later in life. Unlike the Uchiha, who required emotional trauma to awaken the Sharingan, Hyūga eyes awakened as long as the bloodline was pure enough.
Akira suspected two reasons for his early awakening:
His unusually strong mental energy.
And the rare medicinal tonics his parents had given him since infancy—old formulas nearly forgotten by the clan.
Currently, his chakra reserves were only half that of a genin.
Small.
But stable.
When activating his Byakugan, he could see up to 1.2 miles in nearly full 359-degree vision for about three minutes before strain set in.
It was enough for now.
For the moment, he focused only on physical conditioning and chakra sensing training.
Steady improvement.
No rushing.
A week later, Akira decided to inspect the family businesses.
He locked his house and walked into the village.
His first stop was a medium-sized ninja weapon shop.
The bell above the door rang.
An elderly man with a prosthetic leg stood up immediately.
"Young Master Akira!" the old man said warmly. "What a surprise. You should have sent word. I would have come to your house."
Akira examined the shelves before responding.
"Grandpa Yu," he said calmly, "today is the monthly record review."
Before the war, his father had handled inspections.
Now it was his responsibility.
"It's my job to manage what they left behind."
Grandpa Yu nodded, eyes slightly moist.
He had worked for the family for thirty years. A retired genin, unmarried, loyal beyond question. He managed not only this shop but the other ten civilian properties as well.
"Of course, Young Master. Please follow me."
For five hours, Akira reviewed records.
Income sheets. Rent logs. Supply chains. Repair costs.
"Steel imports increased twelve percent," Akira noted.
"The Iron Country raised prices after the war," Grandpa Yu replied.
"Negotiate new contracts. Or diversify suppliers."
"…Understood."
When the reports were finished, Akira closed the final ledger.
"Shop Six," he said evenly, "profits are down eight percent compared to surrounding businesses."
Grandpa Yu blinked. He had not noticed.
"If performance does not improve within two months," Akira continued, "replace the manager."
Grandpa Yu nodded seriously.
"Total monthly profit and rent: 1.2 million ryo," he reported.
Equivalent to an S-rank mission.
Akira took 200,000 ryo.
"Deposit the rest."
"Yes, Young Master."
As Akira left, Grandpa Yu watched him quietly.
Master and Mistress would be proud…
Akira wandered through the streets until he stopped at a familiar stall.
Ichiraku Ramen.
Teuchi greeted him cheerfully. "Oh! Hyūga young master! What can I get you?"
"Large miso ramen."
Teuchi grinned. "Just one?"
Akira looked at him calmly.
"Start with one."
An hour later, eleven empty bowls were stacked neatly before him.
Teuchi stared.
Ayame stared.
Passing ninja stared.
"Is he from the Akimichi clan?" someone whispered.
Another ninja glanced at his pale eyes. "No… that's Byakugan…"
Akira wiped his mouth.
"The broth is average," he said honestly. "But the ingredients are fresh."
Teuchi burst into laughter. "You're a tough critic!"
Akira paid and left.
The ramen was average.
But warm.
After arranging grocery deliveries, Akira paused before a small pet shop.
The owner, a retired shinobi, immediately brightened at the sight of his noble attire.
"Welcome, young master! Looking for a companion? Loyal dogs? Rare foxes? Mountain breeds?"
Akira stepped inside quietly.
As the shopkeeper continued talking, Akira activated his Byakugan subtly.
Two faint chakra signatures.
Neither belonged to the shopkeeper.
Interesting.
He moved toward the first.
A small panda slept lazily, bamboo in its mouth.
"That one was captured during a mission recently," the shopkeeper explained. "Rare mountain species."
The chakra inside it was gentle but dense.
"I'll take it," Akira said.
Then he moved toward the second signature.
A snow-white baby fox bared its tiny teeth at him.
"That one's from the Land of Snow," the shopkeeper said quickly. "Bad temper. Hard to tame."
Akira crouched.
The fox did not retreat.
Their eyes met.
"…You're not ordinary," Akira murmured.
"I'll take this one too."
"Both? That'll be 23,000 ryo."
Akira paid without hesitation.
"Young master," the shopkeeper called out, "raising chakra beasts isn't easy!"
"I'm not looking for easy," Akira replied without turning back.
Back home, Akira placed the panda on a folded blanket.
The fox jumped down and immediately began inspecting the house cautiously.
Akira entered the kitchen.
For the panda, he prepared a vegetable salad—fresh carrots, cabbage, bamboo shoots.
For the fox, he sliced beef and lightly seared it.
He placed the bowls down.
The panda waddled forward happily.
The fox hesitated.
Akira crouched.
"You don't trust easily," he said calmly. "Good."
After a moment, the fox began eating.
Akira watched them briefly.
"You need names."
He looked at the panda.
"…Po."
A small memory from another world surfaced briefly.
Then he looked at the fox.
"Snowy."
Snowy flicked its tail.
Po chewed happily.
Night fell.
Akira lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
From the living area came soft sounds—
Tiny paws shifting.Light scratching on the floor.Po's gentle snoring.Snowy pacing once before settling.
The noises were small.
Irregular.
Alive.
"…It's still quiet," Akira murmured.
But it was no longer empty.
For the first time since the war—
Sleep came without dreams.