---

  Two weeks passed.

  The forest had taught him.

  What had once been a struggle, chakra slipping, balance breaking, had become something close to instinct. Now he could run up trunks without thinking, stop sideways on bark like it was flat ground, and leap between branches with the kind of lightness that made it feel unfair.

  He enjoyed it more than he admitted.

  He moved through the trees like he belonged there feet sticking, body turning, the world tilting beneath him until up and down meant nothing. For a few minutes at a time, he could almost forget his father’s voice, the Academy, Minato’s stupid face. There was only the rush of air, the snap of leaves, the grip of chakra under his soles.

  Then he reached for a branch.

  It was too thick.

  His fingers slid over rough bark, failing to close properly and the next second the world dropped out from under him. He hit the ground hard enough to steal his breath, palms stinging where they scraped against dirt and stone.

  He lay there for a moment, blinking up at the canopy, jaw tight.

  So his feet could cling.

  So what?

  His father had told him to master it. And he still had two weeks left.

  Reiji sat up slowly, flexed his hands, and stared at them like they’d insulted him.

  If he could control chakra in his feet… why should he stop there?

  Hands came next.

  It would be less difficult than the feet had been, his hands were already used to chakra control from basic techniques but “less difficult” didn’t mean easy. It still demanded precision. Still demanded patience.

  And Reiji liked an new challenge.

  ---

  On the way to school, he saw it again.

  Kushina walking with Nawaki Senju.

  He’d noticed it before, so it didn’t surprise him anymore and after learning what “Uzumaki” meant, he could guess why.

  The Academy had changed around her, too.

  After that first day, nobody called her “tomato head” anymore. Nobody treated her like she was harmless. Sparring continued like normal, but the way they looked at her had shifted less mocking, more cautious.

  When Kushina wasn’t nervous, she wasn’t bad. Sometimes she was even good for her age Reiji thought. She lacked finesse and couldn’t match the best in the class, but she was stubborn in a way that was almost irritating. She didn’t stay down. She got up again and again, like the floor didn’t have the right to claim her.

  Reiji understood that kind of stubbornness.

  Strangely, he still hadn’t sparred with Minato again. The teacher kept pairing him with boring opponents.

  Normally that would have bothered him.

  Today, he barely cared. Training was consuming him entirely.

  He stopped mid-step when he saw Minato at the Academy entrance accompanied by a stranger.

  A tall young man with long white hair, wearing a kimono, stood with him near the gate, speaking quietly. Reiji couldn’t hear what they were saying from here, but he saw Minato smile and nod before the two parted ways.

  Reiji watched the man’s silhouette disappear around the corner of the street.

  Adopted? He’d never seen Minato talking to an adult outside of class.

  He knew Minato lived at the orphanage in the south of the village he’d gone there once out of curiosity. A small building, children running around, and the person in charge had been a woman. Not this man.

  Maybe a caretaker. Someone from the village. Someone… new.

  Reiji shrugged.

  It wasn’t his business who Minato spent his time with.

  Good for him, I guess…

  ---

  Class began.

  As always, Reiji sat in the back. As always, no one sat near him.

  He glanced toward Kushina with a complicated expression.

  She was chatting happily with Mikoto Uchiha and Aya Shirakawa—full of motion even when she was still, hands moving, head tilting, voice too loud for a classroom. Nearby, the Inuzuka girl talked with her dog, laughing like the world was simple, while the Nara girl slouched over her desk, sleeping like always.

  Reiji stared a little too long at the Inuzuka girl chatting with her dog before shaking his head and looking away and thought of his predicament.

  Father wants me to befriend her.

  Impossible.

  Not counting the fact Kushina hadn’t tried to sit with him again or speak to him after his rejection, Reiji couldn’t bring himself to approach her. She was a walking disaster of noise and energy, and just imagining a conversation with her made his head hurt.

  Then he paused.

  Minato while talking to his friend kept stealing glances at Kushina.

  Poorly hiding his curiosity.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Reiji’s mouth twitched.

  Ah. He wants to befriend her too ?

  A sharp, petty thought flashed through Reiji’s mind: I could her friend first.

  For half a second he pictured Minato’s face defeated, polite, trying not to show it.

  Reiji blinked.

  What the hell was that?

  He shoved the image away like it was embarrassing.

  And returned to the real problem.

  His classmates’ value.

  After his discussion with his father, Reiji couldn’t ignore it anymore. His classmates were stupid, loud, and yes… inferior.

  But they were also future teammates.

  And a teammate who hated you was dangerous.

  The problem was, after humiliating Arata and giving that little speech, the class avoided him even more than before. Some whispered when he passed. Others stared too long, like they were waiting for the next incident.

  Normally he would’ve been pleased.

  Now it was inconvenient.

  He needed… something.

  A first step.

  Reiji scanned the room, searching for a target and his gaze settled on Arata Uchiha, talking with the Hyūga twins.

  An idea formed.

  It was a terrible idea.

  That didn’t stop him.

  Reiji stood abruptly and walked over, ignoring the startled looks that followed him.

  He smiled wide.

  “Hey, guys,” he said brightly, waving like he belonged there. “Beautiful day, right?”

  Arata stiffened like someone had pressed a bruise. The Hyūga twins blinked at him.

  “…Not really,” one of them said.

  “Hello,” the other added, polite by reflex.

  Reiji kept smiling. “Huh? Of course it is. Look at this beautiful sun hanging in the sky— huh…”

  “Hiashi,” the first Hyūga corrected flatly. “Did you forget our names?”

  “What?” Reiji laughed. “Of course not. You’re just so identical I didn’t know which one was who. Hahaha.”

  The second twin opened his mouth. “Well, what’s my na—”

  “Anyway,” Reiji cut in smoothly, “what were you guys talking about? It sounded interesting.”

  Arata’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you talking to us like we’re friends?”

  Reiji’s smile twitched, but he held it. “Because I said it sounded—”

  “We don’t want to talk to you,” Arata snapped. “Leave us alone.”

  Reiji’s smile sharpened, too bright. “Come on. Don’t be like that. We should let bygones be bygones, right?”

  The Hyūga twins looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Bygones?” Arata crossed his arms, chin lifting. “Sure. Let’s do that. Apologize. Now.”

  Reiji blinked. “Huh? Apologize for what?”

  “For what you did to me when we were sparring!”

  “What did I do?”

  Arata’s face reddened. “Don’t make me say it, you—”

  “Beat you?” Reiji said lightly. “Come on, it was nothing. You’re not so petty you’re still sulking over a bruised ego, right? I expected something more mature from an Uchiha.”

  Arata’s teeth clenched. “You—”

  “Leave Arata alone, Homura.”

  Enji appeared beside them, flanked by three other classmates, his expression sharp with satisfaction like he’d been waiting for this.

  Reiji’s smile vanished.

  He sighed, long-suffering, then lifted his hands as if surrendering to stupidity.

  “Suit yourself.”

  He turned and walked back to his desk, leaving behind a cluster of tense, confused stares his classmates watching like they couldn’t decide if they’d just witnessed a joke or a warning.

  ---

  Nothing interesting happened for the rest of the morning apart from Arata staring at Reiji with an almost impressive amount of anger. He did it in class, in the hallways, even during drills, like his eyes were trying to carve a bruise into Reiji’s back.

  Reiji ignored him.

  Mostly.

  By afternoon, the instructor’s patience had worn thin. The class had been loud all morning restless, distracted, still buzzing from whatever tension lingered between Uchiha pride and Reiji’s mouth. So when they filed out onto the yard after lunch, the teacher didn’t bother with warm-up lectures or neat lines of theory.

  He pointed at the far side of the training grounds.

  “Parkour course,” he said. “Now.”

  The groans were immediate. Someone muttered a complaint. Someone else brightened, thinking it meant fun.

  The course wasn’t impressive compared to real shinobi training, but it was enough to filter the weak from the merely average.

  A low stone wall marked the start. Beyond it, a staggered set of platforms rose like broken steps—wooden planks nailed to posts at uneven heights. Past that came the balance rail: a long beam running over packed sand, narrow enough that one mistake meant eating dirt. Then ropes hung in a row like vines, followed by a stacked crate climb and, at the end, a slanted wall leading up to a watch platform where a bell hung from a post.

  It was meant to teach flow. Momentum. Decision-making.

  Most of the class treated it like an obstacle course.

  Reiji treated it like a ranking.

  The instructor clapped once, sharp.

  “Rules are simple.No touching. No pulling sleeves, no tripping, no shoulder-checking, no ‘accidents.’ You run your own line. Also no chakra to help you pass it easier just your physical abilities. If I catch anyone sabotaging someone else, you’re off the course and you’ll be doing laps until dinner.”

  A few students sighed dramatically. Kushina bounced on her toes like she couldn’t wait. The Inuzuka girl whispered something to her dog.

  Reiji’s gaze drifted sideways.

  Arata was already staring at him. His expression had changed since morning—less anger now, more cold intent, like he’d decided parkour was another spar.

  Enji stood near him, arms folded, mouth curled faintly as if he’d been waiting for a chance to see Reiji lose in front of everyone.

  Nawaki rolled his shoulders once, serious, focused.

  And then—

  Minato.

  Standing like he didn’t care whether he won or not, which somehow made it worse.

  The instructor’s voice cut in again.

  “First group. Reiji. Arata. Enji. Nawaki. Minato.”

  A ripple went through the class at that—whispers, glances, the unspoken *oh, that’s gonna be good.*

  Reiji didn’t look at them.

  He stepped to the starting wall.

  Arata joined him a moment later, close enough that Reiji could feel the heat of his irritation. Enji took the other side, smiling a little too much. Nawaki cracked his neck once and exhaled. Minato simply settled into place, calm as ever.

  Reiji’s eyes flicked to Minato’s face.

  Minato wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t tense either. His gaze was steady, attentive like he was watching Reiji the way you watched a problem you meant to solve.

  Not judgment.

  Curiosity.

  Reiji hated it.

  The instructor raised his hand.

  “On my whistle—”

  Reiji leaned forward slightly, weight on the balls of his feet.

  A stupid, familiar excitement stirred under his ribs.

  Don’t be mediocre.

  The words weren’t his. They were his father’s cold and familiar sliding into his skull like a knife.

  The whistle shrieked.

  They launched.

  Reiji hit the stone wall first one step, palms, and he was up and over in a smooth vault. The platforms came next: uneven heights, spaced just far enough to punish hesitation.

  Enji took them carefully, fast but cautious.

  Nawaki went brute-force, landing heavy, making each jump count.

  Arata pushed hard, angry energy feeding his speed.

  Reiji barely heard them.

  He landed light, foot placement exact, balance already shifting into the next move before the last one ended. He didn’t need chakra to stick. The wood had enough grit. His control did the rest.

  A shadow moved in his periphery.

  Minato kept pace.

  Not behind. Not chasing.

  Beside.

  Reiji’s mouth tightened.

  They hit the balance rail.

  Most students slowed here. Arms out. Crouched stances. Panic.

  Reiji ran.

  His feet drummed the beam in a clean rhythm, shoulders steady, eyes forward.

  Minato ran too , like the beam wasn’t narrow at all.

  Arata tried to match them and nearly slipped, catching himself with a sharp jerk that cost him a heartbeat. Enji hesitated for half a second, and Nawaki’s heavy steps made the rail creak.

  Reiji didn’t look back.

  He reached the end, dropped into a roll, came up already moving and took the rope section without swinging like an idiot.

  He jumped, caught high, pulled once, and used the rope as a pivot to fling himself to the platform.

  For a split-second he thought he’d made space.

  Then Minato landed near-silent at the edge of his vision, as if he’d been there the whole time.

  Reiji’s stomach sparked with irritation.

  ‘Of course.’

  Crate climb.

  Reiji skipped the footholds and went straight up—hands gripping wood, sandals finding edges. It was faster, sloppier, and it made his muscles burn.

  He didn’t care.

  He crested the top—

  —and Minato arrived at the same moment from a cleaner route, like he’d wasted no energy at all.

  Below them, Enji was still climbing. Nawaki was almost there. Arata was pushing hard enough his face had gone red.

  Reiji didn’t spare them more than a flicker of thought.

  Final wall.

  A slanted stone surface leading up to the watch platform and the bell.

  The safe way was the ladder set to the side.

  The fast way was the wall.

  Reiji took the wall.

  He sprinted up the incline, fingers catching shallow gaps between stones, feet finding grip through sheer control. He felt the burn in his calves, ignored it, and reached for the top ledge—

  Minato’s hand appeared there too.

  They pulled themselves up almost together.

  Reiji’s fingers brushed the bell rope—

  —and he tugged first.

  The bell rang sharp and bright.

  For half a second, the yard went quiet.

  Then noise spilled back in all at once—sharp breaths, startled murmurs.

  Someone actually clapped—once—before stopping like they’d committed a crime.

  Enji’s smile had gone stiff.

  Arata’s face twisted, like the sound of the bell had scraped something raw inside him.

  The instructor barked, “Reiji, first. Minato, second.”

  Reiji stood at the top, chest rising once, refusing to breathe hard. He looked down at the course like it was beneath him like he was above being bothered by a single bell.

  But his eyes found Minato anyway.

  Minato glanced over, faintly amused, like he’d enjoyed it.

  Reiji looked away first.

  Behind them, Nawaki hauled himself up with a grunt, Enji close after. Arata arrived last of the group, hands shaking with effort, eyes locked on Reiji with something uglier than morning anger.

  Reiji pretended not to notice.

  He told himself it didn’t matter.

  Still… he couldn’t deny he enjoyed it.

  Running, sliding, climbing—feeling someone close enough that he couldn’t completely relax. It brightened an otherwise dull day, even if the person doing it was “just an orphan.”

  Why can’t I just graduate already? Or quit altogether?

  The Academy felt like a waste of time. If he didn’t have to sit through lessons meant for idiots, he’d have mastered tree-walking in half the time maybe less. Instead, he was stuck in a class where only one other student was worth anything.

  And that was… worrying, if he thought about the village’s future.

  When class finally ended, the students scattered. Reiji, as usual, didn’t linger. He made a beeline for the forest.

  ---

  The trees swallowed the village noise after only a few minutes. The air was cooler here, the ground softer, the silence honest.

  Reiji stopped in front of a tall trunk and set his palms against the bark.

  “Okay,” he muttered. “Here we go.”

  He pushed chakra into his hands until they gripped like glue. Then, using only the force of his core, he lifted his lower body into a flag, feet balanced in the air and began to climb with slow, controlled movements.

  Not even a minute later, he lost his rhythm and tumbled down.

  He recovered mid-fall, twisted, and landed on his feet with a sharp grunt. His arms stung. His pride stung worse.

  He straightened, ready to try again—

  —and a voice cut through the clearing.

  “What, so you were practicing like a monkey?”

  Reiji turned.

  Arata stood a few paces away, wearing a mocking smile. Three others flanked him.

  Reiji’s eyes swept over them in a single breath. Older, taller closer to graduation than him at least. All wore the Uchiha crest.

  His gaze dropped to their waists and thighs: pouches, straps…. ninja tools.

  Reiji didn’t carry his. He kept them at home for today.

  He smiled anyway.

  “Hey, Arata,” he said lightly. “Finally calmed down? Came to play with me?”

  Arata chuckled. “Play with you, yes. Just not the kind you’re imagining.”

  Reiji’s smile sharpened.

  “Good,” he said. “I was getting bored.”

  ---