Chapter 9: An Unexpected Visitor
Shing—thunk!
Shing—thunk!
The rhythm was steady, hypnotic. Ryuzen stood by the stream, arm rising and falling, Shigure Kintoki catching the morning light with each swing. The blade never touched the water, but the surface parted anyway—clean lines appearing and vanishing with each cut.
Three hundred swings. Three hundred cuts. The task was almost complete.
"Ryu... Ryuzen-kun..."
A soft voice interrupted his rhythm.
Ryuzen paused mid-swing, Shigure Kintoki frozen in the air. He turned.
A small figure emerged from behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. Pale lavender eyes. Dark blue hair. The distinctive pale pupils of the Hyuga clan.
"Hinata?"
Hinata flinched at being recognized, but somehow found the courage to walk closer. Her delicate hands clutched the front of her jacket nervously.
"Ryuzen-kun, you... you don't go to school anymore?" Her soft eyes held confusion as she looked up at him.
Ryuzen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked his own question. "How did you find this place?" A pause. "Did you awaken your Byakugan?"
Hinata's eyes went wide with panic. She waved her hands frantically. "I-I didn't mean to follow you! I just... I saw two Ryuzen-kuns by accident, and then I..."
She trailed off, but the explanation was already clear.
It had happened this morning. On her way to school, she'd passed near Ryuzen's house. Unable to help herself—she'd been thinking about him constantly since their match last year—she'd activated her newly awakened Byakugan, just for a moment, just to see if he was home.
Instead of one chakra signature, she'd seen two. Both identical. Both him.
Confused, she'd hidden and watched. Two Ryuzens had left the house at different times. One headed toward the Academy. The other... headed here.
Now she stood before him, shamefaced, looking like she might cry at any moment.
Seeing that expression, Ryuzen quickly softened. "It's fine. I'm not angry. I was just curious how you found me."
"U-umm..." The panic faded from Hinata's face, replaced by the familiar shyness she couldn't quite overcome. She lowered her head, unable to meet his crimson eyes.
Then, gathering courage, she looked up again. "Ryuzen-kun... when did you start sending a shadow clone to class?"
"Hmm?" Ryuzen considered the question. "About half a year ago, I think."
"Half a year..." Hinata's eyes sparkled with unconcealed admiration. "That's... that's amazing, Ryuzen-kun!"
Ryuzen felt something warm stir in his chest.
In his previous life, he'd been an ordinary person. But like many, he'd held a special fondness for characters like Hinata—gentle, kind, devoted. The type who loved unconditionally, who never gave up, who saw the best in everyone.
That fondness hadn't disappeared just because he'd been reborn.
It was the reason he'd rushed to help her over a year ago, when those three bullies had been bothering her. It was the reason he'd thrown himself into that fight without thinking about the consequences.
If the system hadn't activated that day, who knows? Maybe he would have pursued her seriously. Maybe he would have tried to build something with her, strength be damned.
But the system had activated. And with it came the understanding that in this world, strength was everything. Strength meant survival. Strength meant protection. Strength meant being able to keep the people you cared about safe.
He'd thrown himself into training with single-minded focus, pushing everything else aside.
But that didn't mean he'd given up on love entirely. It just meant he'd prioritized.
And now, here she was. Coming to find him. Worrying about him. Looking at him with those gentle eyes full of admiration.
Ryuzen made a decision.
He began to talk with her.
It was mostly him speaking—getting Hinata to open up was like coaxing a flower to bloom in winter. She responded in short sentences, sometimes just nods or murmurs. Most of the time, she stole glances at him from behind her hair, and whenever their eyes met, she'd immediately look away as if burned.
It was adorable. Endearing. And Ryuzen found himself smiling more than he had in months.
"Oh no... Oh no! Class is about to start!" Hinata suddenly jerked upright, her face paling. "Ryuzen-kun, I have to go!"
She turned to flee, then stopped. Looked back. "Ryuzen-kun... are you really not coming back to school?"
Ryuzen shook his head. "Probably not, except for major exams."
Hinata's face fell.
"But," he continued, "if you have time, you can come find me here. We could train together. Your taijutsu is still very good, you know."
Hinata's eyes went wide. "Is... is that really... possible?"
"If you want to."
A brilliant smile broke across her face—so bright it seemed to light up the entire valley. "I understand! I... I'll leave now!"
She turned and ran, disappearing into the trees faster than he'd ever seen her move.
Ryuzen watched her go, a small smile playing at his lips.
Then he turned back to the stream, raised Shigure Kintoki, and continued his cuts.
The day passed quickly. Morning training bled into afternoon, afternoon into evening. By the time dusk painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, Ryuzen finally stopped.
He cleaned himself in the stream—the self-cleaning kimono made it easy—and headed back to the village.
When he reached his house, he found it empty. The shadow clone hadn't returned yet.
That was strange. School should have ended hours ago. Even if there was afternoon training, it wouldn't last this long.
Ryuzen shrugged and went out for dinner. When he returned, the clone was finally home.
He released the technique.
Information flooded his mind—lessons learned, conversations overheard, the entire day's experiences pouring into his consciousness like water into a cup. Along with it came something else: fatigue. The exhaustion the clone had accumulated over the day transferred to him as well.
He was suddenly, deeply tired.
Without bothering to extract chakra for once, Ryuzen showered and went straight to bed.
Morning came.
Ryuzen woke at his usual time—the internal clock he'd developed over more than a year of training didn't care how tired he'd been the night before. He went through his morning routine, created a fresh shadow clone, and headed out.
But something felt different. The village was... quieter. Heavier.
As he passed neighbors on the street, he noticed hushed conversations, shocked expressions, people gathering in small groups to whisper.
Then he heard it.
"The Uchiha... all of them..."
"Genocide... just one survivor..."
"Itachi Uchiha... they're saying he's the one who did it..."
Ryuzen stopped walking.
The Uchiha clan massacre. He'd known it was coming—the dates had been fuzzy in his memory, but he'd known it would happen eventually. And now it had.
The strongest family in the ninja world, wiped out in a single night. Two survivors only: Uchiha Itachi, classified as an S-rank missing-nin and traitor, and Uchiha Sasuke, the younger brother left behind.
That was the official story, at least.
But Ryuzen knew the truth. Knew about the tension between the Uchiha and the village. Knew about the coup they'd been planning. Knew about Danzo's manipulations, the Third Hokage's indecision, the impossible position Itachi had been placed in.
Two murderers had carried out the massacre: Uchiha Itachi and Uchiha Obito. But the ones who'd truly forced Itachi's hand were his own clan and the village he served. In the end, torn between family and duty, he'd chosen the village. Chosen to protect the greater good. Chosen to bear the weight of genocide as a sin so his younger brother could live.
Itachi Uchiha was, in many ways, the most ninja-like person the world had ever produced.
But that wasn't important to Ryuzen.
He was still too weak to affect events like this. Too insignificant to matter. The Uchiha massacre was a tragedy, yes, but it was also a reminder—a harsh, brutal reminder—of what this world was really like. Of what happened to those who weren't strong enough to protect themselves.
Ryuzen resumed walking toward the valley.
He'd only been in this world for a little over a year. His mental age set him apart from his peers, and aside from Hinata, he'd formed no real connections. He felt no deep attachment to Konoha. No burning loyalty to the Will of Fire.
Why should he? What had this village ever given him?
No. His path was his own. His strength was his own. And until he was strong enough to matter, the affairs of villages and clans and Kage meant nothing to him.
The waterfall thundered ahead. Ryuzen stepped into the clearing, Shigure Kintoki in hand, and began his morning cuts.
The world could burn. The village could mourn. Politics could churn in the darkness.
None of it mattered.
Only the blade mattered.
Only the path.
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