Kakashi observed Guy's determined expression with quiet understanding. The Green Beast's intentions were transparent—recruit Meian into his physical conditioning regiment. It was a predictable move.
"He won't take the bait," Kakashi said flatly. "Taijutsu specialization isn't his path. And I didn't push him toward it."
Guy's fists clenched, his eyes blazing with that familiar, unshakeable conviction. "I'll convince him myself! A natural talent like that can't go to waste."
Kakashi's chuckle was dry. Guy's persistence was admirable, if futile. Meian would politely refuse—the kid had a way of sidestepping obligations that didn't align with his goals. Meanwhile, Meian remained oblivious to the conversation that would shape his immediate future.
---
The Academy courtyard fell silent as instructors dismissed the latest class. Meian made his way toward the back mountains, a routine so ingrained it barely registered as habit anymore. The forest awaited—trees, silence, training. That was all he needed.
He sensed Hinata before he saw her. Her chakra signature, cautious and hesitant, trailed at a distance. She'd been following him for weeks now. Meian never acknowledged it. There was no point. Whatever her reasons—curiosity, admiration, loneliness—they were hers to resolve.
He was reaching for the hand signs of Body Flicker Technique when another presence bloomed across his senses. Meian's eyes narrowed. One chakra signature he could ignore. Two meant complications.
A scream cut through the afternoon air.
Hinata.
Meian cursed under his breath. He knew exactly what would happen if he turned back. The Hyuga clan's protective detail had likely taken a different route today—sloppy work on their part, reckless timing on hers. Hinata didn't have the killer instinct to fight back against common street thugs, no matter how much training she received. Her gentle disposition would paralyze her.
With a resigned sigh, Meian turned around.
---
The alley was narrow, cramped, the kind of place where sunlight died. Four boys—none older than eleven, Academy students by the look of their worn kunai pouches—had boxed Hinata against a brick wall. She stood rigid, chakra barely flickering despite the Gentle Fist training that should've made her dangerous.
"Hand over your coin purse," the leader snarled. He was larger than the others, his voice cracking with the confidence of someone who'd bullied his way up the Academy hierarchy. "Do it quick, and we won't hurt you too much."
Hinata's eyes were wide, unfocused. Her lips moved soundlessly.
"Coward," one of the other boys laughed. "Probably never thrown a punch in her life."
Meian stepped into the alley's entrance, regarding them with flat indifference. "Reporting this to the Academy administration gets you expelled. You understand that, right?"
The boys wheeled around. For a heartbeat, the leader's expression faltered—recognition flickering. Then it hardened into defiance.
"Keep your nose out, kid. This doesn't concern you."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "Walk away now, and maybe we won't take it out on you later."
"Report us," the leader added, voice dropping to a threat, "and you'll learn what real pain feels like."
Meian's gaze swept across their faces, lingering on each in turn. He saw exactly what they were: orphans, foundlings, or street kids who'd scraped their way into the Academy. They'd tasted a measure of power for the first time, and now they believed themselves untouchable. It was pathetic.
"I'm not interested in you," Meian said coldly. "Or your threats. Or this entire situation."
He glanced at Hinata. Her face crumpled—not with hope, but with shame. He thinks we're beneath him, her eyes seemed to say. He thinks I deserve this.
The leader's jaw clenched. He'd expected fear. He'd expected compliance. Instead, he got contempt.
"Bastard!" he spat. "You think you're better than us? A high-ranked student crushing lower grades?" He turned to his followers. "Get him. Break his fingers—make sure he never touches a weapon again. But don't kill him."
Three boys charged.
Meian moved.
There was no technique, no flashy display—just ruthless efficiency. He closed the distance in a blur, his foot connecting with the first boy's stomach. The impact lifted him off the ground. The second boy barely had time to register the figure beside him before a palm strike sent him sprawling. The third dropped to his knees, gasping, as a precise kick folded him over.
They hit the alley floor in sequence, a cascade of agonized groans.
But the leader had moved too. While Meian dispatched his cronies, he'd pivoted toward Hinata. His fist rose—not for a punch, but to grab her collar. At the last second, he changed tactics. His hand darted toward a brick dislodged from the alley wall.
Hinata flinched.
Meian's world crystallized into sharp focus. He was there—directly between her and the incoming projectile—before conscious thought could catch up. His hand snapped out, fingers closing around the brick mid-flight.
The impact shattered it into powder.
Dust rained down on the alley floor. The leader stood frozen, his arm still extended, his face draining of color. The boy who'd seemed strong a moment ago now looked terrifyingly small.
Hinata peeked around Meian's shoulder, her breath coming in short gasps. "Mr. Meian..." Her voice was barely a whisper, and her cheeks bloomed crimson.
So many reasons for that, Meian thought distantly. He'd thrown a match against her weeks ago. He'd spoken words she'd needed to hear at a moment when nobody else would. The combination had done something to her—planted a seed of attachment that was growing in ways neither of them fully acknowledged yet. She followed him. She watched him. She waited.
Not my problem.
Meian turned his attention back to the leader still standing. The boy's hands had dropped. His courage had evaporated entirely.
"You thought pain was a tool," Meian said quietly. "Something to inflict on weaker people. Something that made you strong." He moved forward with methodical intent. "Let me correct that misconception."
The leader turned to run. He didn't even make it three steps. Meian's foot caught him mid-stride, launching him forward. He crashed into the alley wall hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs, and dropped beside his sprawled companions.
Meian stood over all four of them, breathing normally while they gasped like fish pulled from water.
"Pathetic," he said. "You'll make it through the Academy eventually. You'll become ninja. And you'll still be nothing—trash with a headband instead of dead weight in the streets." He glanced back at Hinata, gave a curt nod, and turned to leave.
Behind him, Hinata's hand rose halfway to her mouth, her expression caught between embarrassment and something deeper. Something she didn't yet have a name for.
The alley fell silent again, except for the sound of four boys struggling to breathe.
---
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