Reiji froze for a fraction of a second.
Outwardly, almost nothing changed in his expression, but internally he couldn't help the brief flicker of surprise that passed through him. He had expected punishment the moment he shattered Enji's arms in front of the entire class. Suspension, extra supervision, maybe temporary confinement within the academy grounds. Something along those lines.
But complete removal from the academy?
That, he honestly hadn't expected.
The realization settled slowly in his mind while the silence stretched through the Hokage's office. Sunlight filtered through the large windows behind Hiruzen's desk, illuminating drifting particles of dust in the air while the old man watched him carefully from across the room.
Still…
Maybe this wasn't entirely bad.
Hiruzen continued speaking before Reiji could organize the thought fully.
"From what I have seen, you are an exceptionally talented individual," the Hokage said calmly, his voice measured and steady. "I do not believe anyone in this room would dispute that. And as Hokage, it is always gratifying to witness talented young shinobi emerge for the village." His gaze sharpened slightly. "However, a talented shinobi who becomes a liability is far more dangerous than an ordinary one."
Reiji remained silent.
"You are still young," Hiruzen continued, "which means your actions can still be understood as the result of immaturity and poor judgment rather than genuine malice. I can understand why Enji's words angered you."
At that, Enji visibly flinched in his chair.
The movement didn't escape Reiji's notice.
"But," Hiruzen added without pause, "understanding your anger does not justify your actions. What you did was deliberate. You ignored your teacher's intervention and continued long after the situation should have ended." His fingers folded together atop the desk. "Words can wound people deeply, yes, but what you did in return went far beyond a simple loss of control."
Reiji listened quietly while studying the old man.
Hiruzen's tone remained calm throughout the reprimand. No shouting. No visible anger. Somehow that almost made it feel more serious. The Hokage wasn't speaking like someone punishing a troublesome child.
He was evaluating him.
"And because of that," Hiruzen continued, "while the idea of placing you directly into the genin corps is admittedly tempting, I cannot ignore the fact that you currently lack the discipline expected from a shinobi operating beside others. At the same time…" A faint sigh escaped him. "Completely wasting your abilities would also be foolish."
Reiji's posture straightened slightly.
There it was.
The compromise.
"For the time being," Hiruzen said, "you will not be granted the rank of genin."
The words landed cleanly across the room.
"For the next six months, until your class officially graduates, you will remain within the village under supervised public service. You will assist civilians, respond to requests, and perform duties assigned directly through village administration." A faint trace of dry amusement crossed the Hokage's face. "To put it bluntly, they will essentially be D-rank missions in everything but name. Without the payment, naturally."
His gaze briefly shifted toward Soichiro.
"Not that your household particularly requires the compensation."
Reiji ignored the comment entirely while Hiruzen continued.
"You will learn what it means to serve the village outside of combat and prestige. If your conduct and performance during these six months are deemed satisfactory, you will then be permitted to join the genin corps alongside the rest of your classmates and receive assignment under a jōnin instructor." The Hokage's eyes settled on him fully once more. "Are we clear?"
The office fell silent again.
Reiji leaned back slightly into the chair, thinking through the punishment carefully instead of reacting immediately. On the surface, it sounded severe. Removal from the academy. Delayed promotion. Public service under supervision.
But once the emotional weight of the decision passed…
The details were actually interesting.
"How many assignments per day?" he asked finally.
"One."
Reiji blinked once.
"And how long does each assignment usually take?"
"That depends entirely on the request," Hiruzen answered. "Some may require only a few minutes. Others several hours. Occasionally multiple days. There is no fixed standard."
Reiji frowned slightly.
That… honestly didn't sound terrible.
In truth, he already felt like he was wasting time at the academy half the week. Most lessons covered material he had long since surpassed, and the practical exercises rarely pushed him seriously anymore. While the delayed graduation irritated him, the actual structure of the punishment itself almost sounded beneficial.
One mission per day.
No academy schedule.
The rest of his time effectively free.
Training with his father suddenly became much easier logistically.
Reiji stared blankly at the floor for a moment before a faint pang of genuine regret crossed his mind.
I should've broken that idiot's arms sooner if I'd known, he thought while glancing toward Enji.
The Sarutobi boy shifted uncomfortably beneath the stare, instinctively leaning farther back into his chair despite the casts immobilizing both arms. The movement was subtle, but obvious enough that Reiji almost snorted aloud.
It seemed Enji's mother had reached the exact same conclusion.
"Do you honestly think I'm an idiot?"
Biwako's voice cut sharply across the office before Reiji could fully suppress the reaction on his face. Her eyes were fixed directly on him now, cold and narrow with irritation.
"In what world is this a punishment for him?" she continued. "Look at him. He's practically glowing."
Reiji immediately stilled.
Shit.
He turned his head toward Hiruzen at once and was met with the Hokage's raised eyebrow. Nearby, Danzō let out the faintest exhale through his nose, something dangerously close to annoyance, while one hand continued supporting his chin lazily against the armrest of his chair.
Reiji suddenly became acutely aware of how relaxed he had looked moments earlier.
Heat crept faintly into his cheeks. He lowered his gaze toward the floor and scratched the side of his head awkwardly, trying—and failing—to appear properly chastised.
Biwako noticed immediately.
"This punishment might be severe for another child," she said coldly, "but for him it's barely a punishment at all. You—"
"Calm yourself, Biwako."
The interruption came from Danzō.
Unlike the tension building elsewhere in the room, he hadn't moved at all. He remained seated with one elbow resting against the chair while his visible eye stared vaguely toward the side of the office rather than directly at her, as though the entire argument barely deserved his attention.
"It is a matter between children," he continued calmly, his tone detached enough that it almost felt dismissive. "What matters here is not your personal feelings, but how the village perceives the situation." His fingers tapped lightly once against the chair. "The boy has been removed from the academy. He will spend the next six months under supervision performing duties directly for the village."
Only then did his gaze finally drift toward her.
"What more exactly are you asking for?" he asked. "Would you prefer we remove him from the shinobi program entirely over a childish altercation between students?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop slightly.
Biwako's posture tightened immediately, fingers pressing harder against Enji's shoulders.
"Don't insult my intelligence," she said quietly.
Her voice had lowered now, which somehow made the hostility behind it feel sharper.
"You're being lenient because of his connection," she continued while glancing briefly past Hiruzen to look at something behind him. "Because he's useful to your interests."
Reiji's eyes shifted subtly toward the Anbu close to the windows.
Danzō's expression didn't change.
"Lenient?" he repeated softly.
For the first time since the discussion began, his visible eye settled fully onto her.
"No," he said flatly. "It would simply be foolish to discard a promising shinobi over a conflict between children."
There was no hesitation in his voice. No attempt to soften the statement.
"You are allowing emotion to cloud your judgment."
The words landed heavily.
Then Danzō continued.
"You may be his mother," he said evenly, "but that does not give you the right to forget your place."
The atmosphere inside the office tightened instantly.
"Danzō," Hiruzen interrupted warningly.
But Danzō didn't look away from Biwako.
"What?" he asked simply, almost genuinely puzzled by the reaction. "The punishment is already sufficient. Escalating the matter further because of personal resentment serves no purpose."
His gaze remained fixed on her, calm and unwavering.
"You are not standing here as merely a mother demanding retribution for her son after a foolish fight at school," he continued. "You are the wife of the Hokage."
Enji visibly flinched beside her.
Biwako's eyes narrowed further, though she didn't interrupt this time.
"Compose yourself," Danzō finished calmly. "You represent more than your personal grievances."
Silence followed immediately afterward.
Reiji remained seated quietly, but internally his attention had shifted almost entirely away from the punishment itself. Instead, he studied the exchange unfolding in front of him carefully.
Biwako's hand tightened slowly into a fist before her gaze shifted toward the silent woman seated nearby.
"Koharu."
Her voice had steadied compared to earlier, though the anger beneath it remained impossible to miss.
"Don't tell me you actually agree with this."
For a moment, the woman said nothing. She simply looked between Hiruzen and Danzō thoughtfully before returning her attention to Biwako.
"I do," she answered calmly.
A slight pause followed.
"In fact, I was the one who proposed it."
The words seemed to catch Biwako off guard more effectively than anything Danzō had said so far. She stared at the older woman silently for several long seconds before exhaling sharply through her nose.
"Fine," she said at last, though nothing in her posture suggested she actually meant it. "So be it."
She turned immediately afterward, already reaching toward Enji's shoulder.
"Come. We're leaving."
"I'm not finished."
Hiruzen's voice stopped the movement instantly.
He hadn't raised his tone.
He didn't need to.
The authority behind the words settled across the room immediately, firm enough that even Biwako paused mid-step before slowly turning back toward him. The tension in her posture sharpened visibly, restrained irritation replacing the open anger from before.
"What is it?"
For the briefest moment, Hiruzen's expression softened as he looked toward his son.
Then the softness vanished.
"Enji."
The boy stiffened immediately.
"Y-Yes, Father?"
"Fūma-sensei reported something important when she brought this incident to me," Hiruzen said evenly. "I want you to repeat exactly what you said to Reiji before he attacked you."
Enji froze.
Reiji noticed it instantly.
The hesitation. The slight disruption in the boy's breathing. The way his shoulders tightened beneath the casts as though bracing instinctively for a strike that hadn't come yet. Even his fingers twitched faintly against the white plaster wrapping both arms, useless movements that only made his nervousness more obvious.
"I… I…"
His voice faltered completely.
"There is no reason to hesitate," Hiruzen continued calmly. "Everyone present is already aware of what was reported."
A deliberate silence followed.
"So say it."
Biwako's grip tightened slightly against her son's shoulder. Reiji noticed her attention shift fully toward Enji now, some of the anger fading beneath something colder.
Expectation.
Enji swallowed visibly.
"I… shouldn't have said it," he muttered finally, lowering his head. "I'm sorry."
For a second, it seemed the conversation might end there.
Then the restraint cracked.
"But still—" Enji's voice rose suddenly, frustration and emotion breaking through all at once. "How can you let them stay here?! Because of them, Shingen-niisan is dead!"
"Enji!"
Biwako reacted instantly, one hand snapping over his mouth before another word could escape.
The room stilled.
Not silence.
Stillness.
The kind that settled after something irreversible had already been said aloud.
Reiji's eyes shifted briefly toward his father.
Soichiro hadn't moved.
Not even slightly.
His posture remained exactly the same as before, calm and unreadable, his gaze still resting toward Hiruzen as though the accusation hadn't affected him in the slightest.
Reiji mirrored the composure automatically.
Outwardly, at least.
Inside, something tightened unpleasantly in his chest.
You didn't even know him, he thought immediately, almost irritated by the reaction itself. So why does it bother you?
The answer never came.
Across the room, Hiruzen looked quietly at his son.
There was no anger visible on his face.
Only disappointment.
"What happened to your brother was tragic," he said calmly. "I mourn him every day."
His voice remained steady throughout, grounded and controlled despite the subject.
"But we are shinobi."
A brief pause followed.
"We accept that death is part of our duty."
His gaze never left Enji.
"If we began blaming others every time a shinobi died serving the village, Konoha would never have survived long enough to exist today." Another pause. "Should every family blame me whenever a shinobi dies during a mission? I am the one who assigns them."
Enji's jaw tightened beneath his mother's hand, but he didn't look away this time.
"You may resent them," Hiruzen continued, "but Reiji is not responsible for your brother's death."
Then his tone shifted slightly. Not softer.
More deliberate.
"If anything," he said quietly, "he is someone your brother died protecting."
The words landed cleanly across the room.
Enji froze.
Reiji did too.
Before he could stop himself, his eyes lifted toward Hiruzen fully. Something about the statement struck harder than expected, settling somewhere deeper beneath the surface irritation and tension he had carried since entering the office.
"In speaking the way you did," Hiruzen continued, "you disrespect your brother's sacrifice."
A pause.
"And you shame yourself. As a shinobi of the Leaf… and as a Sarutobi."
The anger in Enji's expression cracked slightly at that. Not disappearing entirely, but weakening enough for uncertainty to appear beneath it.
Hiruzen didn't press further.
"What example will you set for Asuma," he asked quietly, "if you continue behaving like this?"
That finally broke the remaining resistance.
The tension in Enji's shoulders loosened visibly, though the result looked more heavy than relieved.
"Do you understand?"
"…Yes."
The answer came much quieter this time.
"Good."
Hiruzen inclined his head faintly.
"What you said was unacceptable," he continued, his tone returning to formal authority once more. "Your injuries already serve as sufficient reminder of the consequences of your actions, but you will also be suspended from the academy for one month." His gaze sharpened slightly. "The punishment is lighter only because this is your first offense. There will not be a second warning."
Enji lowered his head further.
"Yes, Father."
"Use that time properly," Hiruzen said. "Reflect on your conduct."
Then after a final pause:
"Are we clear?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Hiruzen held his son's gaze a moment longer before finally nodding once.
"You may leave. We will continue this discussion tonight."
Enji rose slowly from the chair afterward. The earlier anger had faded from his movements, replaced by something quieter and more subdued. Beside him, Biwako straightened as well, her posture still rigid despite the conversation ending.
But before leaving, she looked back one final time.
First at Hiruzen.
Then at Soichiro.
And finally at Reiji.
The anger remained.
It had simply settled deeper.
The office door closed behind them a few seconds later with a dull muted sound that seemed to linger strangely in the silence afterward.
Hiruzen slowly leaned back into his chair, one hand rising briefly to rub at the base of his neck as though easing tension that had settled there throughout the meeting.
"Well," Hiruzen said after a moment, his voice returning to something calmer, almost conversational compared to the heaviness from earlier, "I believe that settles everything."
His gaze shifted toward Reiji again.
"You will report to Fūma-sensei once this meeting concludes. She will explain the details of your assignments, your duties within the village, and the supervision attached to them." His fingers tapped lightly once against the desk. "She will report directly back to me regarding your conduct."
A brief pause followed.
"I expect you to take this seriously."
Then, after letting the words settle:
"If there is nothing further, you may leave."
Soichiro rose first.
The chair shifted faintly against the wooden floor as he pushed himself upright with controlled, measured movement, his cane remaining untouched beside him despite the stiffness lingering in one leg. Reiji followed a moment later.
"Thank you, Hokage-sama," Soichiro said calmly, inclining his head slightly. "For your leniency."
Hiruzen waved the gratitude away almost immediately.
"I was not being lenient," he replied. "Consider this your son's final opportunity."
His eyes settled fully onto Reiji once more.
"Do not make me regret this decision." The warmth from earlier faded slightly from his expression. "If something like this occurs again, you will be removed from the genin program entirely." A brief pause followed before he continued, voice calm but firm. "Talent will not protect you forever, Reiji-kun. Konoha does not lack talented individuals. You are neither the first nor the second child of your caliber that I have encountered during my lifetime."
The statement landed quietly.
Not insulting.
Not dismissive.
If anything, the calm certainty behind it made the warning feel more genuine.
Reiji lowered his head slightly.
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
"Good."
Hiruzen exhaled quietly afterward and leaned back once more into his chair.
"At this rate," he muttered dryly, "I doubt I will find much peace once I return home tonight."
"You'll survive," Danzō replied lazily from the side of the room, the faintest trace of amusement touching his mouth. "Still… it has been interesting seeing you again, Soichiro."
Soichiro inclined his head politely.
"The same to you, sensei."
Then his gaze shifted toward the older woman seated nearby.
"Koharu-sama."
Koharu acknowledged him with a small nod, remaining silent as always.
The meeting finally seemed finished.
Reiji turned slightly toward the exit alongside his father, already feeling some of the pressure in the room easing from his shoulders—
"Wait."
Hiruzen's voice stopped them before either could take another step.
Reiji's attention sharpened instinctively.
The Hokage's gaze shifted toward the ANBU stationed silently beside the windows throughout the entire discussion.
"Escort them out."
A brief silence followed.
The masked shinobi didn't move.
"I am currently assigned to guard duty," the ANBU replied evenly.
"You still are," Hiruzen answered calmly. "And I am still Hokage."
A beat passed.
"Go."
A faint snort escaped Danzō somewhere behind them while Koharu immediately shot him a brief warning glance.
The ANBU finally relented.
"…Understood."
The ANBU passed beside them without acknowledgment before reaching the office doors and pulling one open smoothly.
"Follow me."
For the briefest moment, Soichiro hesitated.
Soichiro stepped forward calmly, and as they began walking, his hand rested briefly against Reiji's shoulder. The grip was firm, controlled, grounding him forward without a word.
Reiji glanced upward slightly toward his father's profile while they crossed the doorway together.
Soichiro's expression remained unreadable.
But the pressure from his hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before finally releasing.
***
The corridor outside felt colder the moment the door shut behind them.
They walked without speaking.
At his side, Soichiro's posture remained straight, controlled as ever. His pace was steady, each step deliberate, his cane tapping lightly in time with his stride—a quiet, consistent sound carrying through the corridor. But there was tension there. Subtle. Carefully contained.
Reiji noticed it immediately.
He understood.
After all—
"Father—"
"How long," the ANBU cut in sharply.
The man stopped mid-step, turning around.
"—do you intend to keep embarrassing me?"
He couldn't see the man's face.
He didn't need to.
The height. The rigid posture—discipline taken to its extreme. The way he held himself as if every movement were measured, evaluated, judged against something unseen. And behind the mask, strands of brown hair fell loosely at the edges.
Familiar.
It had been years.
Nothing about him had changed.
"You still insist on keeping that… boy, even now?" the man continued, one hand lifting slightly, gesturing toward Reiji with casual dismissal—as if indicating an object rather than a person.
Reiji didn't react outwardly. His expression remained still, his breathing even—but something tightened in his chest, sharp and familiar. Not new. Never new.
Some things didn't change.
"Father—"
The word came out strained, dragged through something heavier than simple irritation.
"Reiji is my son," Soichiro said, steadier now, the tension in his voice hardening into something firm. "Like it or not, he is your grandchild. The sole heir of the Homura clan."
"For now," Homura replied flatly, almost bored. His gaze shifted briefly toward Reiji—measuring, assessing, dismissing. "You should remarry, as I told you before. You are still young. Still capable. You could have many more…" His eyes lingered for a fraction longer. "…qualified heirs."
Reiji felt that glance.
Beside him, Soichiro shook his head slowly. "Who would want a crippled man?" he said, without self-pity, only blunt fact. "And I have only ever loved one woman. I will continue to do so until my grave."
"It has been almost ten years, Soichiro." Homura's voice sharpened, impatience cutting through the restraint. "I was patient. I allowed your grief. I pardoned your insubordination. I tolerated the shame you brought upon this clan."
His gaze hardened.
"What more do you want? For once in your life, do your duty. For the clan. For the village."
"I am doing my duty," Soichiro answered without hesitation. "As a father."
The air shifted.
"What father you are," Homura said dryly.
Reiji felt the words land—not on him, but on Soichiro. And still, they echoed.
"Like you, I suppose?" Soichiro replied.
The silence that followed was heavier.
"Mother would not have wanted this."
"Do not dare bring her into this."
"Why?" Soichiro's voice didn't rise, but it sharpened. "Afraid you would feel her judgment? Of what you've become? A bitter man who refuses to acknowledge his own grandchild?"
"That thing is not my grandchild."
"He is a mistake," Homura continued. "Your mistake. It is time you wake up."
"Reiji is my pride," Soichiro said, with more force now. "And I will not let you speak of him like that."
"Your pride?" Homura let out a faint scoff. "Your delusion. That boy is the spitting image of his mother. You look at him and see her—and that is the only reason you keep him."
Reiji's fingers curled slightly at his side, nails pressing into his palm. Not enough to break skin. Just enough to ground the tension, to anchor it somewhere physical.
"Of course he is my son," Soichiro replied. "And hers. Would you have done any different? For me? For her?"
That made Homura pause.
The silence stretched thin, sharp at the edges.
"Enough."
Homura turned away first, cutting the moment cleanly. "Talking to you is useless. It always is. You refuse to listen."
His voice cooled again, returning to control.
"Until you come to your senses and do what is required, do not speak to me."
He started toward the exit without waiting.
Reiji didn't speak.
There was nothing to say.
There never had been.
He had seen this before. Heard it. Lived through it. The same pattern, repeating without variation.
No matter what he did.
No matter what he became—
Mitokado Homura would reject him.
They reached the entrance. Homura stopped just short of stepping outside, remaining within the shadow of the doorway as Soichiro and Reiji passed him without a word.
Reiji had nearly crossed the threshold when—
"Boy."
He stopped.
Turned.
Soichiro did the same beside him.
Behind the mask, Homura's gaze was unreadable.
But the weight of it wasn't.
"Do not bring further shame to our name," he said.
Reiji held his gaze for a brief moment beofre nodding.
Then he turned away, falling back into step beside his father.
***
They walked through the village in silence.
The afternoon light had already begun fading slightly, long shadows stretching across the streets beneath the steady movement of civilians and shinobi returning home for the evening. Somewhere farther down the road, merchants shouted lazily while children ran between storefronts laughing, their voices carrying briefly through the air before fading behind them.
Reiji barely noticed any of it.
His body felt strangely heavy.
Not injured.
Not physically exhausted either.
Closer to the hollow weakness that followed after pushing himself too far during training, when chakra reserves dipped low enough that even simple movement became irritating. Except this fatigue sat deeper than that, lodged somewhere beneath his ribs in a place he couldn't easily ignore.
His encounter with Homura had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit.
Beside him, Soichiro remained quiet for most of the walk, his cane tapping softly against the stone road in measured rhythm.
Eventually—
"Go see Fūma-sensei like the Hokage instructed," his father said at last without looking at him. "We'll talk later at home."
Reiji nodded automatically and turned slightly to leave.
"And Reiji—"
He stopped mid-step and glanced back.
For a moment, Soichiro simply stood there awkwardly, wearing an expression complicated enough that Reiji couldn't immediately decipher it. It almost looked like the older man himself wasn't entirely sure why he had stopped him.
Then, hesitantly, Soichiro reached forward and rested a hand briefly against the top of Reiji's head.
"You…" His father paused faintly before continuing. "You are not a mistake."
The words came quieter the second time.
"Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
Reiji stilled.
For a second he simply stood there beneath his father's hand while his bangs shadowed his eyes.
Then he slowly nodded once.
"I know, Dad," he muttered. "Don't worry."
Soichiro nodded awkwardly in return before withdrawing his hand almost immediately afterward, as though uncertain what to do with the gesture now that he had committed to it. Without adding anything further, he turned and resumed walking down the street alone.
Reiji remained still for several seconds watching his father's back grow smaller through the crowd.
His fists tightened slowly at his sides.
Soichiro hated attention. Hated being dragged back into village politics or clan matters he had deliberately distanced himself from years ago. He avoided scrutiny whenever possible, avoided gatherings, avoided people.
And yet he had still come today.
He had faced the Hokage.
Faced Homura.
Faced all of it because of him.
What a horrible son I am, Reiji thought bitterly.
The feeling lingered unpleasantly in his chest even after he finally forced himself to move again.
By the time he arrived back at the academy grounds, regular classes had already ended. Most of the buildings sat quiet now beneath the late afternoon light, though a handful of students still lingered near training fields or courtyard paths in small groups.
People stared when he passed.
Not subtly either.
Conversations lowered almost immediately around him while whispers spread from one student to another with embarrassing speed.
Reiji scoffed softly beneath his breath.
The rumor mill worked fast.
Being expelled from the academy itself didn't really bother him. Not truly. He had already outgrown most of what the academy could teach him months ago.
But the manner of it irritated him.
It felt too much like defeat.
Still…
At least now nothing held him back anymore.
A faint smirk touched his mouth briefly.
More time to train.
More freedom.
The public assignments would probably become annoying, but manageable. At worst they would consume a few hours per day before leaving the rest of his schedule open.
Honestly, his situation had almost improved.
Reiji eventually stopped outside the teachers' lounge and knocked lightly against the door.
Nothing.
He waited several seconds before knocking again, slightly louder this time.
Still nothing.
His brows furrowed faintly.
Didn't hear me?
Reiji pushed the door open carefully and stepped halfway inside.
"Sensei?" he called. "The Hokage told me to—"
He stopped.
Something felt wrong immediately.
Fūma-sensei sat motionless behind her desk, hunched slightly over an open scroll. At first glance she looked merely distracted, but even from the doorway something about the scene felt… off.
Too still.
She hadn't reacted to either knock.
Hadn't moved at all.
Reiji's attention sharpened instantly.
Quietly, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him before beginning to circle slowly around the room instead of approaching directly. His feet barely produced sound against the wooden floorboards while his eyes remained fixed on the woman carefully.
He could hear breathing.
Slow.
Shallow.
But nothing else.
No shifting posture.
No blinking.
No reaction whatsoever.
Reiji's unease deepened slightly as he finally reached an angle where he could see her face properly.
His body stilled.
Her eyes were open.
Wide.
Glassy and unfocused like dull marbles staring at nothing.
Her mouth hung slightly parted while her expression sat completely slack, devoid of awareness in a way that instantly reminded Reiji of a puppet with its strings cut.
Empty.
Like someone had hollowed her out from the inside.
Reiji's muscles tightened immediately.
Then—
Movement.
Sharp.
Fast.
From his right.
Something lunged toward him.
Reiji reacted instantly without conscious thought, his arm whipping sideways while a kunai flew from his sleeve in one fluid motion before he had even fully turned his head.
A dull impact sounded.
His body pivoted immediately afterward, feet sliding sharply across the wooden floor as he prepared to confront the attacker—
And froze.
Black eyes met his own.
Familiar eyes.
Impossible eyes.
The figure standing there wore his face.
Long dark hair tied loosely behind the head. Thin frame. Same height. Same features.
Everything matched perfectly.
For one disorienting second it genuinely felt like staring into a mirror.
Reiji's thoughts sharpened instantly.
Genjutsu.
He tried to move—
—and immediately realized something was wrong.
His body felt sluggish.
Disconnected.
Not restrained physically, but heavy in a strange unnatural way, like trying to move through deep mud. Worse than that, his body no longer even felt properly solid. There was an awful hollowness to it now, something fundamentally wrong beneath the surface sensation of his skin.
Reiji forced his gaze downward.
And stilled completely.
His arms weren't arms anymore.
Thin bundles of straw protruded awkwardly from patched sleeves, stiff and uneven like the limbs of a scarecrow.
Reiji's breathing steadied immediately despite the spike of unease clawing briefly through his chest.
Control first.
Panic later.
His eyes snapped upward again.
The figure wearing his face stood exactly where he should have been standing.
Where his body belonged.
Reiji's thoughts stuttered for the briefest fraction of a second.
Don't tell me—
The other him smiled.
"Well," the figure said lightly, voice perfectly identical to his own down to the smallest inflection, "it's nice meeting you again, boy."