****
The walk back home felt longer than usual.
Reiji kept his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his jacket as he moved through the quiet streets of the district, his pace steady but unhurried.
His body was sore in a dozen small ways that reminded him of the afternoon's spar. Fugaku had not held back. Reiji could still feel the lingering strain in his forearms where he had absorbed several heavy strikes. The muscles in his shoulders ached from repeated blocks, the dull burn of exertion spreading through them whenever he moved his arms. One of his ribs throbbed faintly beneath his clothes, the result of a well-placed hit that had slipped through his guard when he mistimed a step during their exchange. Each breath pressed against the bruise with a quiet pulse of discomfort.
Under normal circumstances he would have welcomed the sensation. The soreness meant improvement, meant his body had been pushed further than it had been the day before. It was the familiar, almost reassuring consequence of training hard enough to grow stronger.
His mind remained fixed on something else entirely.
Fragments of the conversation with Fugaku replayed themselves in his thoughts as he walked, the words repeating with stubborn persistence.
Reiji exhaled slowly as he turned onto the final street leading toward his home, his gaze drifting across the familiar buildings without really seeing them. The issue still made little sense to him no matter how many times he turned it over in his mind.
Chakra transformation was not a particularly advanced concept. It was one of the foundational steps of shinobi training—the method by which raw chakra was converted into an elemental nature. Even academy students eventually grasped the principle once their control improved enough. It was the gateway to elemental techniques, the necessary step between possessing chakra and actually shaping it into something useful.
Without it, a shinobi's options narrowed drastically.
Cripplingly so.
Reiji's lips pressed into a thin line as the thought surfaced again.
He will not tell his father.
Not yet.
The idea of explaining the problem to him created an unpleasant tightness somewhere deep in his chest. His father valued competence more than almost anything else. Discipline. Progress. Measurable results. Weakness was something to be corrected quickly, not something to dwell on.
What would he think if he discovered that his son could not perform something so fundamental?
Reiji slowed slightly as he walked, the question lingering in the back of his mind.
Perhaps it was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Perhaps he had approached the exercise incorrectly or overlooked some small detail in the process. Chakra manipulation often required subtle adjustments that only became clear through repetition.
There were still other methods he could attempt. Other approaches to test.
If necessary, he could continue experimenting quietly for a while before involving his father. There was no reason to report a problem that might resolve itself with enough practice. Only once he was certain—truly certain—that the issue was real would it make sense to bring it to his father's attention.
Until then, it remained his problem to solve.
As his thoughts circled the matter again, another part of the earlier conversation resurfaced in his memory.
Fugaku's suggestion.
---
The image came back with surprising clarity—the two of them sitting near the edge of the training grounds after their spar, Fugaku watched him with that measuring expression he often wore when thinking something through.
Reiji had been the first to speak.
"A Hyūga?" he had asked, unable to hide the faint note of confusion in his voice.
Fugaku had nodded once, slow and certain.
"Yes. Their dōjutsu would make them the most suitable for something like this."
Reiji had frowned slightly at that. "What does the Byakugan have to do with it?"
Fugaku had rested his forearms on his knees as he considered the question. "The Sharingan is excellent for reading movements and copying techniques," he explained calmly. "But when it comes to observing the internal flow of chakra, it is limited."
His gaze had shifted briefly toward Reiji.
"The Byakugan is different. A Hyūga can see the chakra network itself."
Reiji had remained silent, listening.
"They see the tenketsu," Fugaku continued. "The points where chakra flows in and out of the body. They can observe how chakra moves through the coils and pathways with a precision no other dōjutsu can match. If something about your chakra flow is abnormal… they would notice."
Reiji had considered that possibility quietly.
"And they would be able to tell why the transformation fails?"
Fugaku had shrugged lightly. "If the cause lies within your chakra network, they might."
The conversation had ended not long after that.
---
Yet the idea lingered.
Now, as Reiji approached the gate of his house, the thought returned once more. Seeking help from another clan was not something he particularly liked the idea of. Still, if the problem truly lay somewhere inside the structure of his chakra network, a Hyūga might be the only ones capable of identifying it.
He slowed as he reached the entrance.
Something unusual caught his attention.
Someone was sitting just beside the front of the house.
A man leaned against the wooden wall near the entrance, elbows resting loosely on his knees while his head tilted downward as though he had been waiting there for some time. The posture was relaxed—almost lazy—but there was a stillness about him that suggested patience rather than boredom.
Reiji frowned slightly as he stepped closer.
Loitering outside someone else's house was hardly appropriate behavior.
"Hey," he said flatly as he approached. "Don't slouch here. Go somewhere else."
The man lifted his head.
Silver hair caught the light of the fading sun.
Recognition came immediately.
Reiji raised an eyebrow.
The man's expression shifted just as quickly, the brooding look vanishing in an instant as a bright, easy smile spread across his face.
"Reiji!"
He pushed himself upright with casual ease, brushing a bit of dust from his clothes as if the whole situation had been perfectly normal.
"Just the man I needed."
Sakumo Hatake looked entirely too pleased to see him
Reiji frowned at once.
"Could you please not talk to me like we're close?" he said flatly, stopping a few steps away. "It's creepy."
Sakumo placed a hand over his chest in exaggerated offense, his posture straightening as if the words had struck him deeply.
"Come on," he said lightly. "Don't be like that. I know you're not that cold."
Before Reiji could react, Sakumo stepped forward and reached down, his hand ruffling Reiji's hair with casual familiarity.
Reiji's reaction was immediate. His hand snapped upward, slapping Sakumo's wrist away before the man could do it a second time. The motion made the bruise in his forearm protest sharply, a dull pulse of pain running up his arm from the earlier spar with Fugaku, but the irritation burning across his face outweighed it.
"Stop touching my hair every damn time!"
Sakumo burst out laughing.
The sound was loud and unrestrained, completely at odds with the quiet street around them.
"Ahaha! See?" he said between breaths. "Adorable."
Reiji stared at him in silence for a moment, the annoyance in his expression deepening as he tried to decide whether this man was actually serious or simply incapable of behaving like a normal adult. After a moment he let out a slow breath and forced the irritation down.
"What do you want?"
"Well," Sakumo replied easily, scratching the back of his head in a gesture that suddenly made him look like someone who had been caught doing something mildly embarrassing, "I came to see your father. It's been a while since we last talked."
Reiji glanced toward the house behind him, then back at Sakumo.
"Well, what's the problem?" he asked. "You're here. Just knock."
The smile on Sakumo's face shifted slightly. It didn't disappear, but something about it became more awkward, his shoulders lifting in a faint shrug as if he already knew how ridiculous the explanation was going to sound.
"Yeah… about that."
Reiji waited.
"Your father doesn't want to see me," Sakumo admitted after a moment.
Reiji blinked.
"He closed the door in my face when he saw me."
The silence that followed stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Reiji simply stared at him.
"Are you sure you're friends," he asked slowly, "and this isn't just a misunderstanding?"
Sakumo chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck again.
"Well… we are still friends."
He paused.
"Probably."
Another pause followed, longer this time.
"I hope so."
Reiji raised an eyebrow, studying the man's expression carefully. Sakumo didn't look particularly worried, which only made the situation seem more absurd.
"He just likes to play hard to get," Sakumo added quickly. "Just like you."
"Sure…" Reiji replied dubiously.
He turned slightly toward the door, already losing interest in the conversation.
"Well, that's certainly interesting, but—"
Sakumo suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders.
The movement was quick but not rough. Still, the sudden contact made Reiji stiffen slightly, his muscles tightening instinctively from habit more than fear. Sakumo's grip was firm, his expression abruptly serious in a way that made the shift in tone impossible to ignore.
"Please help me, Reiji."
His voice had lost its joking edge.
"This is really important. For me… and for your father."
Reiji studied his face for a moment, searching for the humor he expected to find there. None appeared. Sakumo looked genuinely earnest.
After a few seconds, Reiji sighed.
"Well… alright," he said finally. "If you want to get kicked out again, that's your problem."
He stepped forward and slid the door open.
The familiar scent of the house greeted him immediately—wood, tea leaves, and the faint lingering smell of incense from earlier in the day.
"Father, I'm here," he called into the house. "A suspicious man wants to see you."
"Hey—!" Sakumo protested behind him.
From deeper inside the house came his father's calm, even voice.
"Tell him I'm busy."
Reiji turned his head slightly and looked back at Sakumo.
"He says he's busy," he said evenly. "Sorry."
Sakumo stared at him.
The look on his face was completely deadpan.
For a brief moment neither of them spoke.
Then Sakumo suddenly raised his voice.
"Oy! Soichiro!"
His tone carried easily through the house.
"If you don't come out right now, I'm going to tell your son about that thing you did with that noble girl once!"
A beat of silence passed.
Then the door inside the house slid open sharply.
"Stop," his father said flatly.
A deep, weary sigh followed.
"I understand."
He stepped aside, his tired gaze landing directly on Sakumo with irritation.
"Come in, you buffoon."
---
Reiji prepared the tea in silence.
The small kitchen was quiet except for the soft sounds of water being poured and ceramic cups lightly touching the wooden table. Steam rose slowly from the kettle, carrying with it the faint, familiar scent of tea leaves that filled the room. Outside, the light of the afternoon slipped through the paper windows, casting a pale glow across the floorboards and the low table where the two men sat.
Behind him, his father rested in his chair with the relaxed stillness of someone completely at ease. One arm lay on the table, his chin supported by his hand as he watched the room with an expression that bordered on boredom. He had not moved much since entering the kitchen, his posture calm and composed in that controlled way Reiji had grown used to over the years.
Across from him, Sakumo Hatake sat in noticeable contrast and looked strangely uncomfortable.
He shifted slightly in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against his thigh before stopping himself. His gaze wandered around the kitchen, examining the shelves, the neatly arranged utensils, the clean floor, anything that might allow him to delay whatever conversation had brought him here.
"Nice house," Sakumo said eventually, gesturing vaguely around the room. "Very well maintained. Mine's a mess most of the time. Do you clean it yourself, or are you using your son—"
"Can you just tell me why you are here?"
Soichiro's voice cut through the room without raising in volume.
Sakumo stopped mid-sentence.
The silence that followed was heavier this time. Reiji placed the tray carefully on the table, setting the cups down one by one before stepping slightly aside, though he remained close enough to hear the conversation clearly.
Sakumo stared down at the steam curling slowly upward from his cup. For a moment he said nothing, as though weighing his words carefully.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'm getting married."
Reiji saw his father's gaze lift slightly.
"That is… unexpected."
Sakumo let out a short breath that might have been a laugh, though it carried a hint of awkwardness.
"She's pregnant."
The words were spoken simply, without hesitation, yet Reiji noticed the faint stiffness in his shoulders as he said them.
His father blinked once.
"You?" Soichiro said.
"I always thought you were the prudent one."
Sakumo rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little less confident than the legendary shinobi people spoke about.
"I don't know if it's appropriate to say this in front of a child," he admitted with a crooked smile. "But… she might have jumped me."
Reiji's face twisted immediately.
"I really didn't need to hear that."
Soichiro sighed quietly.
"You brought him with you."
Sakumo laughed.
"Sorry. But it's true."
The brief moment of humor faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. Sakumo leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers still resting behind his neck as if the gesture helped him think.
"I never thought I would marry," he said after a moment.
"And even less that I would become a father."
For the first time since entering the house, there was a faint uncertainty in his expression. It was subtle, but Reiji noticed it immediately. He had been studying people long enough to recognize the shift.
"I'm not sure I'm cut out for that kind of life."
His gaze lifted again, steadier now.
"But this is where life led me."
A brief pause followed before he spoke again, his voice quieter.
"I'm afraid, Soichiro."
That seemed to catch his father's attention more than anything else Sakumo had said so far. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Knowing I will be a father… it makes me think about the life we live."
"We made our choice knowing that," Soichiro replied calmly.
Sakumo shook his head slowly.
"Can we really say that?"
"We were born into shinobi clans. There was never really another path for us."
The room grew quiet again.
Reiji stood near the table, watching them while keeping his expression neutral. He had heard discussions like this before, though rarely spoken so openly.
Sakumo stared down at his hands for a moment before continuing.
"My child will almost certainly become a shinobi," he said. "He'll be the sole heir of my clan."
"I have no one else."
He paused briefly, the words settling in the quiet kitchen.
"I used to be fine with that."
"But now… I'm terrified."
His gaze lifted toward Soichiro again.
"You understand that feeling."
"We may have peace now," Sakumo continued, "but we both know it won't last. The situation with Kirigakure was only the beginning."
"Almost every border is becoming unstable."
Soichiro's expression did not change.
"It is not time yet."
"I know," Sakumo replied quietly.
"But knowing my child will be born into this world…"
He hesitated.
"You remember how it was before the peace. Children were sent to war without hesitation."
"We may call ourselves a village now, but some things haven't truly changed."
His gaze shifted toward Reiji.
"I can see your son is already strong for his age. You are preparing him well."
Soichiro's eyes hardened slightly.
"Reiji knows his duty," he said.
"He has accepted it."
A brief pause followed.
"I may be a useless man now," Soichiro continued calmly, "but my son will not be a disappointment."
Sakumo glanced between the two of them, something uneasy passing through his expression.
"Don't treat him like an ignorant child," Soichiro added. "He knows what is coming. And he is prepared for it."
Reiji gave a small nod, acknowledging the words without speaking.
Sakumo looked at him for a moment.
There was something sad in his expression now.
"You have to stop punishing yourself like this," he said quietly to Soichiro. "It's been almost ten years."
Soichiro did not react.
"The Hokage pardoned my useless self despite what I did," he replied calmly. "I will repay that debt, even if it is the last thing I do."
Reiji returned to the table and carefully adjusted the cups, giving himself something to focus on as his father continued speaking.
"Reiji is my pride."
"And he will soon be one for the village as well."
For a moment Reiji froze.
The words settled somewhere deep in his chest, heavier than he expected.
He turned away quietly, pretending to adjust the plates on the tray. The faint sting behind his eyes disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Across the table, Sakumo exhaled slowly but said nothing.
The kitchen fell silent again, the quiet broken only by the faint crackle of the kettle cooling beside the stove.
Finally, Sakumo spoke once more.
"I came today to tell you I will marry soon."
He looked directly at Soichiro.
"And because of that…"
He paused briefly.
"I wanted to ask if you would become my child's godfather."
For the first time, Soichiro's calm expression faltered.
******