"Fight me."
For a moment, the road went still.
The words landed awkwardly between the two teams, cutting through the faint rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the village road behind them. Everyone's attention shifted toward Enji at once.
Enji stood several paces away. He looked uncomfortable. Not afraid, exactly, but not at ease either. There was tension in the way his hands curled at his sides, in the way his eyes refused to leave Reiji's face despite the obvious effort it took.
Reiji studied him for a second, then another.
He opened his mouth to answer.
Someone beat him to it.
"What are you doing, Enji?"
Mikoto stepped between them before Enji could say anything more. Her eyes narrowed at him in clear distaste.
"What did we say before?" she demanded. "I told you to stop antagonizing him. It's childish, and it will go nowhere."
"You do it, though," Hizashi said suddenly.
Mikoto turned her head toward him.
Hizashi looked back at her with a perfectly calm expression. "What? It's true."
"You're not helping, brother," Hiashi said, though the faint amusement in his voice ruined the reprimand.
Hizashi shrugged once and fell silent again, apparently satisfied with the damage he had caused.
Mikoto inhaled through her nose, visibly forcing herself not to react to that, then turned her attention back to Enji. "What are you playing at?"
"Mind your business, Mikoto."
"I am minding my business," she shot back. "This is my team, and I won't have you embarrassing us because of some childish grudge."
"It's not a grudge," Enji snapped. Then, catching himself, he exhaled and forced his voice lower. "And I'm not here to stir trouble. I promise."
That made Reiji's eyes narrow slightly.
Enji looked past Mikoto and focused on him again. "So? What do you say?"
Now that he was finally allowed to answer, Reiji stared at him for a second in flat silence.
"Hell no."
Enji blinked, visibly thrown. "Why?"
Reiji's expression shifted into open contempt. "Why should I entertain you? The last time this happened, you acted like a sore loser, crossed a line, and I was the one punished for it." His gaze moved over Enji from head to toe, dismissive. "I gain nothing by fighting you."
Enji hesitated. For a moment, it looked as if he genuinely had not considered that refusing was an option.
Then he said, "You can have my money from the mission, if you want."
"No."
"All my savings?"
"I don't care about money, Enji." Reiji's voice flattened even further. "I don't know if you noticed, but everyone here comes from important families. None of us are starving."
Enji's mouth opened, then closed again. He looked briefly at the others, as if hoping one of them might provide an answer, but nobody did. Even Mikoto remained quiet now, watching the exchange with a wary frown.
"What about a jut—"
"No jutsu you know will interest me enough," Reiji cut in. "And I likely can't use it anyway."
"I—let me think…"
"Don't bother." Reiji tilted his head slightly. "I may have something that interests me."
Enji's face lifted at once, hope appearing too quickly for his pride to hide it. "What?"
Reiji didn't answer immediately.
He simply looked at him.
The silence stretched long enough for Enji's posture to stiffen again. His earlier hope faded by degrees, replaced by discomfort as Reiji's stare remained fixed on him, cold and unreadable.
Then Reiji said, "Apologize."
Enji frowned faintly. "For what?"
"For what you said about my mother that day."
The effect was immediate.
Mikoto blinked. Kushina's expression changed, confusion sharpening into alertness. Hiashi and Hizashi both grew still , while Sakumo's gaze shifted subtly between them. None of them knew exactly what Reiji was referring to, but they understood enough from his tone to realize it was not a joke.
Enji's face tightened.
"Ah." His gaze dropped slightly. "That."
Reiji had expected resistance. A refusal. Maybe anger. Maybe some clumsy attempt to change the subject. That had been the point. He had asked for something Enji would not give, which would allow him to dismiss this whole thing and continue walking without wasting any more time.
Instead, Enji scratched awkwardly at the side of his head, not meeting his eyes.
"I would have apologized anyway," he muttered. "I didn't think about what I said in the heat of the moment, so…"
Then, before Reiji could process, Enji bowed.
"I'm sorry, Reiji," he said, voice lower than before. "About what I said about your mother that day. I regret it. I don't believe what I said, and I crossed a line I shouldn't have."
The road became quiet again.
Reiji stared at the top of Enji's bowed head and found, for once, that no immediate response came to mind.
That was irritating.
He had spent years knowing exactly what Enji was. The Hokage's son. A boy too proud for his own ability. Someone who resented him and lacked the strength to make that resentment matter. Their relationship had always been simple. They provoked each other. They disliked each other. They understood, without ever saying it aloud, that certain things remained buried beneath the insults because dragging them into daylight would make everything uglier.
And then Enji had dragged them out anyway.
Reiji had not expected him to lower his head after that.
Not in a million years.
"I have issues with you," Enji continued, still bowed. "There are things I don't agree with. And your personality is…" He paused, searching for a word. "Difficult."
Kushina made a faint sound that might have been a badly suppressed laugh.
Enji ignored it. "But what I said was low. As a shinobi of Konoha, and as a Sarutobi, I shouldn't have said it. So… I hope you can forgive me."
No one spoke.
Mikoto looked stunned. Kushina kept glancing between the two of them, wide-eyed and tense, clearly trying to understand something she had not been present for. Even Orochimaru, who had remained silent until now, watched with a faint, unreadable smile.
Reiji exhaled slowly through his nose.
This is annoying.
"…Fine," Reiji said at last. "I accept your apology."
Enji straightened slightly, cautious hope crossing his face.
Reiji lifted a finger. "But I hope you don't think this means we're friends or anything."
Enji blinked, then gave him a look of genuine offense. "That was not my intention. To be honest, I still can't stand you."
Reiji sighed in relief. "Good."
He truly had no idea how he would have reacted if Enji had suddenly started acting friendly. Probably badly.
Enji's shoulders eased a little, but the determination returned almost immediately. "So will you fight me?"
Reiji rolled his eyes. "Ask your sensei first, dumbass."
Enji froze.
"Ah."
He turned toward Orochimaru, who had not said a word during the entire exchange. The man stood slightly behind his students, is golden eyes bright with interest as he watched them.
"Orochimaru-sensei," Enji asked, awkwardly straightening his back, "do you have something against it?"
Orochimaru's smile widened by a fraction. "Not really, no." His gaze slid toward Sakumo. "I'm curious to see what the Hokage's son is capable of against Soichiro's son. I've heard the boy inherited quite a bit of his father's talent."
Reiji resisted the urge to grimace.
Sakumo looked at Reiji instead of answering immediately. "Are you okay with that?"
Reiji shrugged. "It's fine."
Sakumo studied him for a moment longer, then seemed to accept it. "Alright. But don't take too long. I want to see Rika soon."
Reiji's mouth curved faintly. "That was my intention."
Enji frowned. "Don't underestimate me. I'm not the same as I was six months ago."
A small, strangled sound came from the side.
Everyone turned.
Kushina had one hand clamped over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she fought desperately not to laugh. The effort was failing badly. Beside her, Hizashi had turned away, his mouth hidden behind his sleeve, though the faint tremor in his shoulders betrayed him just as clearly.
Mikoto frowned. "That's rude, Kushina."
"Sorry, sorry," Kushina wheezed, bending slightly as another laugh escaped through her fingers. "It's just—pff—hahaha. You have no idea, do you?"
Mikoto's frown deepened. "What?"
Hizashi, having recovered enough to face them again, lowered his sleeve and answered simply, "You will see."
Enji ignored them with visible effort, though his ears had gone faintly red. He fixed his attention on Reiji instead.
"Are you ready?"
Reiji slipped his hands into his sleeves and shrugged. "Whenever you want."
The others moved back after that, clearing space along the road. Sand and packed dirt stretched between Reiji and Enji, trees lined one side of the road, while the open path gave them enough room to move without immediately crashing into the others.
Reiji observed Enji in silence.
It was different from six months ago.
Not enough to make Reiji reassess anything important. But enough to notice. His guard no longer left his ribs completely open, and his breathing, while not perfectly steady, had lost some of the childish impatience that used to leak out of every movement. He looked like someone who had trained seriously.
He looked like he knew what he was doing now.
Reiji didn't care.
The apology still sat strangely in his mind, irritating precisely because it had been sincere enough to be inconvenient. Enji had bowed. He had said the right words. He had lowered his head in front of everyone and admitted fault in a way Reiji had not expected from him.
And yet that only made him more angry.
Because the apology had not come when it should have. It had not come in the days after the incident, or during the months when Enji could have chosen to say something without an audience, without a reward waiting at the end of it. It had come here, now, tied to a request. A fight. A chance to test himself. A chance to satisfy whatever stupid personal need had brought him to this road in the first place.
He had used Reiji's mother as the price to pay for it, dragging her name out again and placing it between them like a bargaining chip.
Reiji had asked for the apology expecting Enji to refuse.
He had wanted refusal.
Refusal would have been perfect. Refusal would have let him dismiss the idiot and walk away with no more effort than a sneer. Instead, Enji had bowed as if saying sorry could make the matter simple, as if the words could be placed on the ground between them and stepped over.
Like it was nothing.
Reiji felt something hot and unpleasant coil beneath his ribs.
Sorry, but you're not Tomato Head.
Kushina was different. Hizashi too, in his own irritating way. They were his teammates now. Letting them reach him, letting them mock him, even letting them believe they had managed to catch him once or twice had value inside the team. It made moving together easier. It made them less exhausting to deal with. It made the whole arrangement function without turning every conversation into a fight.
Enji had no such value.
He was not a teammate. Not someone Reiji needed to accommodate. Not someone he had any reason to indulge. Whatever growth the boy had clawed out of the last six months, whatever resolve had brought him here, none of it mattered enough for Reiji to play along. He had already promised Sakumo he would not take long, and for once he intended to be almost generous with his obedience.
He would crush him quickly.
Not because Enji deserved a lesson. Not because Reiji needed revenge.
Because that was all Enji was worth to him.
Nothing.
Despite the thoughts moving cold and sharp behind his eyes, nothing showed on Reiji's face. His expression remained still, almost tranquil, his posture loose in a way that gave away nothing. The anger remained buried beneath the surface, compressed into something so small that even his own body barely acknowledged it.
He tilted his head once, then cracked his neck with a soft pop.
"Whenever you want," Reiji said.
Enji nodded.
Then he moved.
Not forward.
Back.
His sandals scraped sharply against the packed dirt as he created distance, hands already rising into seals. His fingers moved quickly, Enji's shoulders stayed low, his breathing tightened, and chakra gathered in his chest with enough heat that even from several paces away Reiji felt the air shift faintly.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
Flame erupted from Enji's mouth in a swelling mass.
The fireball expanded fast, rolling across the road like a burning wall, its orange surface churning and twisting as it swallowed the space between them. Heat washed over the dirt, lifting dust into the air before consuming it. The leaves along the roadside fluttered violently from the pressure, their edges curling slightly as the technique surged forward.
Reiji sighed.
It was not a bad technique. For a genin, it was even impressive. The size was decent, the chakra stable, and the release had enough force behind it to make most genin panic or retreat.
But honestly—
Does everyone and their mother use Katon here? Does nobody have anything else?
The thought crossed his mind as he inhaled.
Cold chakra gathered in his lungs in a dense, heavy wave. Wind and water twisted together inside him, familiar resistance pressing briefly against his control before he forced them into shape. Normally, for is freezing breath he would let the cold spread outward in a wider breath, drowning the space ahead in freezing air. This time he compressed it. Tighter. Thinner. More wind than water, sharpening the flow until it pressed against his throat like a blade waiting to be drawn.
The fireball roared closer.
Reiji opened his mouth.
A narrow stream of freezing breath shot out.
It cut forward in a thin white line, sharp and violent, the air cracking around it as the compressed cold tore straight into the fireball. For an instant, flame and frost collided in the center of the road, hissing loud enough to drown out every breath around them.
Then the fire split.
The enormous fireball peeled apart cleanly, divided into two burning halves that surged past Reiji on either side. Heat washed over his sleeves and face, close enough to sting his skin, but he did not move. The flames rushed behind him and died against the road in scattered bursts, leaving scorched dirt and drifting steam in their wake.
The thin ice breath continued forward.
Enji's eyes widened.
To his credit, he tried to move.
Too late.
The Hyōsen pierced straight through his chest—
—and Enji vanished in a burst of smoke.
A log struck the dirt where he had stood, frost spreading briefly across its surface before it rolled sideways and cracked against the road.
Reiji's expression did not change.
The whistle of shuriken came from behind him a heartbeat later.
A volley of steel cut through the air toward his back, fast and spread wide enough to punish a careless dodge. Reiji did not turn. He let them strike.
The blades punched into him—
—and smoke burst outward.
A second log replaced him, shuriken buried deep into the wood in a tight cluster.
Hidden among the trees at the edge of the road, Enji narrowed his eyes. His gaze flicked across the road, across the drifting smoke, across the scorched dirt where Reiji had been. He was searching now, more cautious than before, trying to trace the movement after the substitution.
"Looking for something?"
The whisper came from behind him.
Enji's entire body reacted before his mind did. Goosebumps rose along his arms, as he whirled around and slashed backward with a kunai already in hand. The blade cut through the figure behind him.
There was no resistance.
No blood.
Only a distortion, a faint shimmer in the air as the image broke apart.
Reiji's voice came from above and slightly behind him.
"That was a genjutsu, dumbass."
Enji barely had time to turn his head.
Reiji's heel slammed into his back.
The kick drove between his shoulder blades with brutal precision, folding Enji forward as the force ripped the air from his lungs. His feet left the branch beneath him and hurled into open air. Pain flashed across his spine and ribs in a hot line while the trees spun around him, sky and leaves blurring together as he fought to regain control.
He still tried.
His body twisted midair, one hand reaching to form seals despite the shock of the impact. Even disoriented, he was already reaching for another jutsu, trying to turn the fall into an opening instead of defeat.
Then metal rattled.
Enji froze.
Chains wrapped around him in a sudden, violent coil.
The kusarigama's links snapped tight around his torso and arms, biting into his clothes and locking his elbows before his fingers could finish the next seal. His eyes dropped just long enough to understand what had happened.
Standing on a higher branch, one hand gripping the chain, Reiji pulled.
Hard.
The chain went taut with a sharp metallic shriek, dragging Enji backward through the air. At the same time, Reiji pushed off the branch and launched forward, using the pull to close the distance between them.
He didn't even have time to brace.
Reiji's fist struck him across the face.
The impact snapped Enji's head sideways, pain bursting through his jaw as his vision flashed white. His body was thrown downward, but before gravity could finish the job, the chain tightened again. Reiji twisted his hips in midair, using the kusarigama as an anchor, and pulled himself after him with terrifying speed.
Enji hit the road back-first.
The impact drove dust outward in a rough circle, the packed earth slamming into his ribs hard enough to make his breath break. He tried to inhale--
A foot crashed into his stomach.
Enji folded around the blow. Spit burst from his mouth, his eyes going wide as all the air left him at once. His body hit the ground fully a second later, shoulders digging into the dirt, legs twitching once before the chain tightened around him again and pinned him in place.
Reiji landed above him in the same motion, one foot planted firmly on Enji's chest.
Not hard enough to crush.
Hard enough to make breathing difficult.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Reiji looked down at Enji.
The boy's eyes were wide and confused. His chest rose in shallow, uneven bursts beneath Reiji's foot, each breath catching against the pressure.
"Are you satisfied?" Reiji asked.
Enji's mouth opened.
For a moment, only a strained sound escaped. His throat worked, his fingers twitching uselessly against the chain as he tried to gather enough breath to answer.
"I—"
"That will be enough, yes."
The voice cut through the tension smoothly.
Reiji turned his head.
Orochimaru stood at the edge of the road, still smiling, but something in the expression had changed. It had widened slightly, sharpened at the corners, no longer merely amused. His golden eyes rested on Reiji with a new kind of interest, heavier and colder than before.
Reiji met that gaze for a brief second.
Then his fingers loosened slightly around the chain.
The chain slackened with a faint metallic rattle, loosening from around Enji's torso and arms before sliding back toward Reiji's hand. He lifted his foot from Enji's chest at the same time and stepped away without looking down again. Enji remained on the ground, one arm half-curled over his stomach, breath still coming in shallow, uneven pulls as dust clung to the side of his face and clothes. He did not look like he had any intention of getting up soon.
Mikoto stared for a second too long.
Her expression had gone still in a way Reiji found almost satisfying, surprise held tightly beneath an effort at control. Then she shook herself, and hurried toward Enji. She dropped to one knee beside him, hands hovering briefly as if deciding whether touching him would make things worse before she started checking his breathing and ribs.
Hiashi did not move.
He simply watched Reiji with a serious expression, pale eyes sharper than before. There was no open hostility in his face, but the light amusement from earlier had vanished completely.
Hizashi, at least, did not look surprised.
Kushina was worse.
She had puffed out her chest, chin lifted and arms folded with an expression so smug it was almost loud. She looked between Mikoto and Enji as if waiting for someone to acknowledge that she had, in fact, been right the entire time. The meaning on her face was painfully obvious.
See? I told you.
Reiji ignored her.
He finished drawing the last length of chain back to himself, let the kusarigama settle properly, and turned toward Sakumo. "Can we go now, sensei?"
Sakumo looked at him for a moment.
Reiji kept his face blank.
Whatever Sakumo saw there made the man's smile soften slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough. He nodded, then turned toward Orochimaru.
"Sorry, Orochi," Sakumo said lightly. "My student was rougher than I thought he would be. We'll go ahead. If there are medical bills, send them to me. I'll pay."
Orochimaru chuckled.
"I don't think that will be necessary." His golden eyes flicked down to Enji for a moment, then returned to Reiji with a smile that had not quite returned to harmlessness. "Your student pulled his blows just enough. Aside from humbling mine, he didn't do much damage."
Reiji resisted the urge to click his tongue.
Orochimaru's gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer. "It was nice to meet you, Reiji-kun. Konoha's future is bright with shinobi like you. The new generation is becoming more dangerous by the year, it seems."
Reiji met his eyes for only a moment, then gave a small nod. "Likewise."
He had no intention of offering more than that.
Sakumo's hand came down lightly on his shoulder, casual enough to look friendly, firm enough to guide him away. Reiji allowed it. Behind him, Mikoto was still crouched beside Enji, her voice low as she asked him something he did not answer clearly. Hiashi remained silent. Hizashi turned without hesitation and followed Sakumo, while Kushina lingered just long enough to wave at Mikoto.
"I'll see you soon!" Kushina called, her earlier smugness softening into something more genuine for a moment.
Mikoto glanced up from Enji and nodded, still distracted. "Yeah. Soon."
Then Team Nine continued down the road, leaving the smoke, the scorched dirt, and Enji's uneven breathing behind them.
***
"I'm home."
Reiji pushed the door shut behind him with his heel, one hand still adjusting the pouch at his waist where his share of the mission pay had been tucked away. The scent of dango still clung faintly to his clothes after Kushina had insisted they stop somewhere before the three of them separated.
He expected quiet.
Instead, he found an invasion.
His father sat at the table with the expression of a man who had lost all control over his own house and had chosen, for dignity's sake, to die silently. In his arms was a small bundle wrapped in soft cloth, topped with a shock of pale hair, while a bottle of milk hovered awkwardly near the infant's mouth. Rika stood beside him, leaning over his shoulder as she manipulated his hands with absolute seriousness, adjusting the angle of the bottle by barely a finger's width as though the fate of the village depended on it.
"You know," Soichiro said, voice flat with resignation, "I do know how to feed a baby. I raised my son by myself."
"Yes," Rika said cheerfully, not stopping in the slightest, "but you wouldn't make those funny expressions if I didn't do this." She tilted her head toward Sakumo without looking away from her work. "Right, dear? Isn't he cute with Kakashi?"
"Really cute," Sakumo agreed, grinning from his seat at the table with the relaxed pleasure of a man watching someone else suffer.
Reiji stared at the scene.
Then his face went dead.
"Why are they here, Father?"
Before Soichiro could answer, Rika snatched the baby from his arms with the speed and confidence of someone who had clearly been waiting for the opportunity. Soichiro did not resist. If anything, relief flashed across his face so openly that Reiji almost respected the honesty. Rika marched toward him immediately, the bundle held out like an offering.
"Kakashi," she cooed, "look who's here. It's your godbrother."
"Godbrother is not a thing," Reiji said.
Rika ignored him and placed the baby in his arms anyway.
Reiji stiffened.
The bundle was warm, heavier than it looked, and unpleasantly fragile. He adjusted his grip automatically, then looked down at the infant's wrinkled face and tiny nose. Kakashi blinked up at him with unfocused dark eyes, his white hair sticking up in thin, ridiculous tufts.
Reiji's mouth twisted.
"Still ugly."
"You were uglier," Soichiro said, leaning back in his chair now that his arms were blessedly free. Then, after a pause, he added, "And that was rude, even if it's true."
Rika gasped. "He is not ugly. He'll grow into it." She turned toward Sakumo with immediate confidence. "Besides, he'll be as handsome as his father."
"Nah," Sakumo said, smiling at her over the rim of his cup. "He'll be as beautiful as you."
Rika frowned. "I don't want a girly son, so no. He'll have to look like you."
"Eh? That means—"
"Deal with it."
Reiji stared at them for a moment, then looked back down at the baby in his arms. Kakashi's face scrunched slightly, as if already offended by the discussion surrounding him.
"I still can't believe you called him Kakashi," Reiji said. "Scarecrow, really?"
Rika laughed, bright and unashamed. "You should have seen him when he was born. His arms were spread out like this." She lifted both arms out at her sides in demonstration, nearly hitting Sakumo in the face. "Like a little scarecrow. Honestly, what kind of baby is born in that position? Mine, apparently. He's already unique."
Reiji closed his eyes briefly and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with one hand, keeping the baby balanced with the other. "That does not make it better."
"It absolutely does."
"It absolutely does not."
Kakashi made a small sound against his chest, not quite a cry, but enough to make Reiji lower his hand and adjust the bundle again.
"Still," Reiji said, looking from Rika to Sakumo, "why are you two here? Not that you aren't welcome, but it's a little late for a visit."
Rika's expression shifted into a pout so practiced it was almost a technique. "Sakumo was away with you on a mission, and I was lonely. So I came to spend time with Soichiro. He was surely lonely too without you."
Reiji opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
The obvious retort died before it could leave his tongue. Rika said it cheerfully, as she said most things, but he knew enough about her by now to understand what sat beneath the smile. An orphan, retired from active duty after losing her ninken. Living away from the Inuzuka compound with Sakumo, surrounded by people but not always belonging to them.
Reiji looked away first.
How annoying.
Sakumo rose behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist with exaggerated protectiveness, resting his chin near her shoulder while narrowing his eyes at Soichiro. "My wife may come visit you, but don't get strange ideas, Soichiro. You hear me? She's mine."
Soichiro rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. She's too loud for me."
"Hey!" Rika protested, twisting in Sakumo's arms to glare at him. "That is not true."
"It is true, you're loud" Reiji said.
"And don't worry, Sakumo," Rika continued, ignoring him with dignity. "Soichiro may be as handsome as you, but I will not falter."
Sakumo's smile faltered. "That is not as reassuring as you think it is."
Soichiro, unfortunately, looked amused now.
Reiji watched them for a moment, then smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
"You're the one who should be wary, Rika," he said. "Sakumo-sensei looked very comfortable with the clerk earlier when we were choosing a mission."
The effect was immediate.
Sakumo turned toward him with the betrayed expression of a man stabbed in his own home. Soichiro, who had looked drained seconds earlier, suddenly straightened in his chair with renewed life in his eyes.
Rika's head turned slowly toward her husband.
"Oh, really?"
Sakumo laughed.
It was a terrible laugh.
"No, no. You know how Reiji is. He likes to spread chaos wherever he goes."
"You lie terribly," Rika said.
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
She stared at him for another moment, then broke into laughter and hugged him instead. "It's fine. With a face like that, of course other women are tempted. I don't have to worry."
Sakumo's confidence returned instantly.
Reiji clicked his tongue.
What an easy woman.
Rika turned toward him next, eyes bright with the terrible focus of an adult about to give advice nobody had requested. "And you, young man. With a face like yours, you'll attract plenty of women when you grow up too, but don't let it make your head too big. And don't cheat on your wife later, you hear me? Be like my Sakumo."
Sakumo puffed out his chest and looked at Reiji with smug triumph, as if Reiji's attempted sabotage had somehow become praise.
Reiji stared at him.
Then at Rika.
Then down at the baby, who offered no help whatsoever.
"I'm not interested," he said. "So I won't have to worry about that."
Rika rolled her eyes. "Of course you're not interested now. You're too young. But you'll see later." She studied his face for a second, then nodded to herself with far too much confidence. "With that pretty face and that bad-boy attitude, you're going to make plenty of young girls lose their minds."
Reiji's expression flattened.
Rika lifted a finger. "The real problem will be when they grow up and realize the attitude is not an act."
"Rika," Sakumo said, already fighting a grin.
"What? I'm being honest." She gave Reiji an encouraging thumbs-up. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone willing to tolerate you eventually."
Reiji looked at his father.
Soichiro looked back at him, utterly shameless.
"Do not look at me," his father said. "I raised you. I know she's being optimistic."
For a moment, Reiji considered handing Kakashi back to Rika and leaving the house entirely.
Instead, the baby chose that moment to yawn, small face scrunching again as one tiny hand escaped the blanket and caught weakly at the edge of Reiji's sleeve.
Reiji looked down.
Kakashi looked back at nothing in particular.
Still ugly, Reiji thought.
Unfortunately, he had to admit the grip was tolerable.
***
They continued talking for a little while longer.
Rika carried most of the conversation, still cheerful despite the late hour, while Sakumo sat beside her with Kakashi in his arms and an easy smile on his face. Soichiro answered only when he had to, though Reiji could tell from his father's expression that he was not as annoyed as he pretended to be.
Then Kakashi started crying.
The sound was sharp enough to make Reiji close one eye in irritation. Rika immediately took him back, rocking him gently against her shoulder, and Sakumo rose from his seat with a sigh that sounded more fond than tired. After a few more words, a few more jokes, and one last promise from Rika that she would visit again soon, they finally left.
The house became quiet after that.
Soichiro lingered near the table for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck and told Reiji not to stay up too late before heading to his own room. Reiji answered with a vague sound and went to his.
He closed the door behind him, changed into his nightclothes, and crossed the small room in the dark. His body felt heavy now that the day was finally over, the ache in his legs and shoulders catching up to him all at once. He sat on the bed, exhaled slowly, then lay down and closed his eyes.
"So," a voice said from the darkness, calm and familiar, "how is our little jinchūriki doing?"
Reiji's eyes opened.
Slowly.
For a moment, he did not move. He simply stared at the ceiling, breathing evenly. Then his gaze shifted toward the desk.
Danzō sat there as if he had every right to be.
One elbow rested against the wood, his posture composed beneath the faint spill of moonlight. The shadows caught along the lines of his face and the bandages wrapped around him, leaving one visible eye watching Reiji.
Reiji sighed.
Of course.
He pushed himself upright, the mattress creaking faintly beneath him, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sleep retreated at once, leaving only irritation behind.
It seemed his day was not finished after all.