In the Utsukuro compound, amidst the bustling streets, mother and son walked side by side as they sought to buy food and other necessities. Izaku, the son, was silent the whole way, still preoccupied with the conversation he'd had with his father the day before about their relationship with the Uzumaki clan.
As much as he tried to let the matter go and enjoy their little stroll, he couldn't. It was a matter that weighed heavily on his mind, especially since it could shape his future as a potential aide to his older brother, the clan heir.
Akiko, the mother, noticed the concern etched on her son's face as they walked. While she chose not to address it directly, she couldn't help but worry. After all, their family was far from ordinary.
"You know, when your brother was your age, he was much more active than you are," Akiko said, her voice light but tinged with nostalgia. She glanced at her son, her kind smile softening her features. "He made friends easily, laughed often, and even joked around with us."
Her tone carried a hint of sadness. Her eldest son had changed so much over the years, and while she had come to accept it, it still pained her to see her youngest son carrying the same seriousness that made it difficult for others to connect with him.
Born to a shinobi and an outsider, Akiko had grown up in a far more humble and normal environment compared to her husband's family. She often joked with Takahisa about the stark differences between their upbringings, and he took it in stride. But she couldn't ignore the tension that sometimes crept into his demeanor when the topic arose.
Long before they had confessed their feelings for each other, Takahisa's family had referred to their lineage as a "curse." While other clans might have celebrated such a potent bloodline for producing strong leaders, the Utsukuro saw it differently. Akiko understood their unique traits, but she couldn't help feeling like an outsider at times.
Despite Izaku's serious nature, he was more attached to her than to any other family member. This warmed her heart, and she doted on him endlessly. She had even convinced him to grow his hair longer, a departure from the practical, short-haired tradition of the family line.
As Izaku heard his mother's words, he sighed. He didn't want to dampen the mood of their stroll. After all, he cherished these moments with her more than anything else.
"I'm sorry, I just... couldn't help it," Izaku replied.
"I know, I know," Akiko said, brushing his bangs aside to kiss his forehead. "I'm not accusing you. It was just an observation. I love you just the way you are."
At that, Izaku smiled. His mother's affection reminded him of the warmth he had felt from his mother in his past life. She had a way of making him feel safe and loved, something no one else could replicate—except, perhaps, his little brother.
Changing the subject, Akiko asked, "By the way, how are your friends?"
"Tagami and Kiochi?" Izaku asked.
"Of course, but also that girl—Fumiko," Akiko said with a smile that would have seemed innocent if not for the mischievous glint in her eyes. Fumiko was a girl who had started hanging out with Izaku and his friends after Tagami and Kiochi joined the CSA and graduated to the third term. She was tall, with long brown hair, and at thirteen, she was four years older than the two boys. Despite her age, she was cheerful and fit in well with the group.
"Wait, how do you know about her?" Izaku stopped in his tracks, frowning as he looked at his mother incredulously.
Akiko chuckled at his reaction. "I was looking for you when you were late for dinner one evening, and I stumbled upon the four of you having a mock fight."
Izaku was shocked. He had always thought of his mother as just an average Iryo-nin, not a full-fledged shinobi capable of evading his sensory abilities. He sighed in resignation. "Yeah, she's another graduate from Tagami and Kiochi's batch. They were friends, so we started hanging out with her."
They continued their walk, still some distance from the grocery store. "Oh? They've already graduated?" Akiko asked.
"Yes, although they said they're basically glorified guards for now. They still need to complete another round of training to become spies. They didn't want to join the 'nobodies,' as they call them," Izaku explained.
"Nobodies? Why do they call them that?" Akiko asked, her tone incredulous.
"Well, the Territory Guard Division doesn't do much beyond staying in or around the compound. They get paid for what's essentially doing nothing," Izaku said with a shrug.
Akiko laughed. It was a fair assumption to call the lazy personnel "nobodies," but she couldn't help pointing out, "That might be true, but they still protect us, you know? Anyway, rather than talking about that, tell me—how is Fumiko?" She smirked.
Izaku frowned, looking up at his mother. Seeing her smirk, his eye twitched. "Mom, I'm five."
"Ha! Could've fooled me. Plus, she's pretty, isn't she?"
Instead of arguing, Izaku sighed. He didn't blame her for her teasing. In this world, couples often formed as young as eight years old and married by sixteen. Outside the compound, it was more a matter of necessity than tradition or lack of morals. Shinobi, in particular, often found themselves on the battlefield at a young age, scarred by the horrors they witnessed. They needed emotional anchors to keep going, to fight, and to pass on their experiences to the next generation.
Izaku sighed again, shaking his head at his mother's teasing. "Mom, Fumiko's just a friend. She hangs out with us because she gets along with Tagami and Kiochi. That's it."
Akiko raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh? But you didn't respond to my question though?"
Izaku groaned, his cheeks flushing slightly despite his best efforts to remain composed. "That's not the point! I'm not thinking about stuff like that right now. I've got training, learning, and... other things to worry about."
Akiko's expression softened, and she reached out to ruffle his hair. "I know, I know. You're a serious little man, aren't you? But it's okay to have fun sometimes, you know. Even your brother, as serious as he is now, used to laugh and play when he was your age."
Izaku looked down, his hands shoved into his pockets. "I know. It's just... hard sometimes. Everyone expects so much from me, and I don't want to let them down, especially when I started to meddle on the clan matters."
Akiko stopped walking and turned to face him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Izaku, listen to me. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You're still a child, even if you don't always feel like one. It's okay to have fun, and to just be yourself. Your father and I don't expect you to be perfect—we just want you to be happy."
Izaku looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But the clan still needs competent people. We're in a precarious situation, and... I can't afford to just be a kid. What if I'm not ready when the time comes? What if I can't protect every-"
Akiko smiled gently, pulling him into a hug. "You're already more than enough, Izaku. You're kind, smart, and stronger than you realize. And no matter what happens, your father and I will always be proud of you."
For a moment, Izaku let himself relax in her embrace, the tension in his shoulders easing. He didn't often allow himself to be vulnerable, but with his mother, it felt safe. "Thanks, Mom," he murmured.
Akiko kissed the top of his head before releasing him. "Now, how about we get those groceries before your father starts wondering where we've disappeared to?"
Izaku nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, let's go."
As they continued their walk, the atmosphere between them felt lighter. Akiko hummed a soft tune, her hand linked with Izaku's as they made their way through the bustling streets of the compound. Izaku found himself relaxing, the weight of his thoughts momentarily lifted.
"So," Akiko said after a while, her tone playful again, "if Fumiko's just a friend, does that mean there's someone else you've got your eye on?"
Izaku groaned, his face turning red. "Mom!"
Akiko laughed, the sound warm and melodic. "I'm just teasing! But seriously, Izaku, don't shut yourself off from the world. Friends, family, even a little crush now and then—those are the things that make life worth living. You don't have to be a shinobi every second of the day."
Izaku sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "I'll... try to keep that in mind."
"That's my boy," Akiko said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Now, let's hurry up before all the good produce is gone. I'm in the mood for something sweet—how about we pick up some ingredients for dessert?"
Izaku's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can we make those honey cakes you used to make when I was little?"
Akiko grinned. "Of course! Anything for my serious little man."
As they approached the grocery store, Izaku felt a sense of contentment he hadn't felt in a while. For all the expectations and pressures that came with being part of the Utsukuro clan, moments like these reminded him of what truly mattered—family, love, and the simple joys of life.
-------
In the main family house, two days before the raid on the Villa, Izuku, Takahisa, and Akiko were speaking with each other.
"So, what do you expect me to do now?"
The question, fired by Izuku at his father, was a result of a document tossed to him by his mother—a report detailing rampant corruption among the higher-ups of the Noodle Daimyo.
Their relationship with the daimyo had begun as a result of a series of reforms introduced by Mariko Utsukuro to strengthen the clan's secrecy. These reforms could be summarized as a bilateral contract at the start of their cooperation, which eventually blossomed into a mutually dependent relationship after much strife.
Initially, the arrangement was straightforward: the daimyo received security, while the clan gained secrecy, trade agreements, and complete autonomy. However, after the formation of the Village Hidden in the Sky, the daimyo at the time saw the contract as unnecessary. He began neglecting his duties and even started ordering the clan around as he saw fit.
This didn't last long. When the Village Hidden in the Sky decided to challenge Konoha at the start of the war by aiding in the eradication of the Uzumaki clan, the tides shifted. As the war escalated, Konoha's shinobi leadership chose to assert their dominance by directly invading the Village Hidden in the Sky rather than assisting their allies in the Konoha-Kiri theater of operations. This decision was likely due to a lack of personnel on that front.
Seeing an opportunity, the clan moved to remind the daimyo of their importance. They proposed a deal, delivered in no uncertain terms by Mariko Utsukuro herself:
"Our continued support has ensured your nation's stability, and we remain open to renewing our partnership—conditional upon addressing recent lapses in good faith. Let this be unequivocal: Should you disregard this agreement again, the consequences will transcend politics and economics. Your defiance will precipitate the collapse of all you hold dear—your legacy erased, your lineage extinguished, and your nation's sovereignty reduced to ruin. We do not issue warnings twice. This is your final opportunity to avert catastrophe."
In exchange for their continued support, the clan offered to ensure Konoha's attention remained diverted from the daimyo's country, preventing them from wreaking havoc on its soil. The daimyo, in turn, was to submit fully to the clan's terms.
As a result—whether by chance or design—Amegakure allied itself with Iwagakure, opening a second front in the Konoha-Iwa theater of operations. This forced Konoha to divert personnel to Kiri after extensive negotiations with the Village Hidden in the Sky. While the country suffered heavy economic losses, it was a far better outcome than complete annihilation.
"The usual—investigate, track down, and dispose of any cockroaches bothering the daimyo," Takahisa responded, his gaze fixed on his eldest son.
As much as he wanted to keep Izuku away from shinobi duties for a while, he had no choice. The clan's situation was precarious. There seemed to be a traitor among them, and trust was a dangerous commodity in such times.
Akiko, Izuku's mother, sighed heavily, resting her head in her palm as she spoke. "Can't you just send someone else? There are plenty of people who can keep their mouths shut, you know. Akira, for example. Or Tetsuka. Or even Goko—"
She didn't get to finish. A heavy hand was placed on her shoulder. "Akiko, that's enough. I know what I'm doing."
Akiko, fierce and brash as she could be, knew when to defer to her husband, especially in serious matters. However this time, she raised her head to scold him, or perhaps hurl a few choice words, but the look on his face stopped her cold. It was a rare expression—one as cold as ice and as dark as overcooked meat. It was the same look his father had worn, one of absolute authority and fear.
Turning back to his son, Takahisa continued. "I'm assigning you this task because you're the only one I trust to gather reliable followers and carry it out competently. If you could escape ANBU, then a few regular shinobi should be nothing to you."
Izuku sighed. "I know, I know. But I still have to ask—what are you doing about the mole? It's been two years, and nothing's come up."
"I have my own plans for him—or her," Takahisa began, his voice steady as he took a sip of water. "The investigation Shige conducted over the past two years has yielded some... unusual discoveries. Missing transmission records from the years you were gone, for one. The trading node Shige has been cultivating is also being systematically disrupted. Contracts with various companies are being stolen, and convoys are being raided by bandits. On their own, these incidents might seem insignificant to the clan as a whole. But when piled up, they could sow paranoia among the lower ranks of the echelon."
Izuku listened intently, his brow furrowed in thought. As Takahisa explained, the pieces of the puzzle began to form a troubling picture. Their trading routes were being targeted, yet no one had raised the alarm. That was the strangest part.
The clan still had operatives outside the compound, though they no longer held active combat roles or Shinobi monitoring. Their strength lay in diplomacy, economic cultivation, and gathering intelligence on the nobles scattered across the continent. For some of them to disappear or be attacked was unusual—yet not entirely out of the ordinary. After all, bandit raids were a common hazard in this world. Still, the timing and precision of these disruptions felt too deliberate to be mere coincidence.
"Alright, alright," Izuku said finally, standing up. "I'll let you handle this. But in the meantime, try to deal with the Uzumaki situation. Maybe even go there yourself to speak with them."
As he turned to leave, Takahisa's voice stopped him. "Izuku," he said, his tone softer now. Izuku paused and looked back at his father. "Не теряйся, сынок," Takahisa added, slipping into their native tongue. Don't get lost, son.
Izuku smiled faintly, a glimmer of warmth breaking through his serious demeanor. "물론!" he replied in kind. Of course!
----
'да что за хрень!/for fuck sake!'
Gazing through his summon's eyes with the Sharingan, Izuku cursed inwardly. The vision confirmed his suspicions—there was a third party involved in this mess. With no other choice, he switched to full raid mode. Turning to his teammates, he barked, "We're rushing in. Four shinobi personnel. Let's fuck them up, fellas."
"Yup, yup," they replied in unison, already prepping their gear for the breach.
Satisfied, Izuku activated his VOCD (Voice Operated Chakra Device) and spoke calmly but firmly. "Shinobi personnel spotted. Deal with the guards if they get suspicious after the blast from the second stage. We're handling the shinobi."
Flower, their demolition expert, moved swiftly to the door. She placed a specialized breaching seal designed to concentrate the explosion's force in a single direction. They didn't know if the door was reinforced or sealed, but this would handle either scenario.
"Alright, we're ready in case you need reinforcements," crackled a voice through the VOCD.
"Happy to hear that. In and out," Izuku replied before deactivating the device. He unsheathed his tanto with one hand and gripped a kunai in the other.
Snow, meanwhile, activated a wide-area silencing seal. It wouldn't last long, but it didn't need to. Shinobi battles were decided in seconds, not minutes or hours.
The explosion rocked the villa, the sound muffled by Snow's seal. The team surged forward, their movements precise and lethal. Inside, the enemy shinobi were already in defensive positions, shielding a figure who seemed to be their priority.
Izuku's focus zeroed in on the man he recognized—a seasoned fighter, judging by his stance. He trusted his teammates to handle the three rookies, who looked more like trained children than seasoned shinobi.
Izuku hurled his kunai at the man's stomach, then dashed forward to close the distance. His opponent twisted his arm to deflect, grazing his arm guard, leaving a deep scratch—a testament to Izuku's strength and precision.
The clash of kunai and tanto sent sparks flying, illuminating the dim room for a split second. The battle was on.
Blow after blow, Izuku pressed the attack, each strike aimed to break through his opponent's defense. But the man was skilled, his movements fluid and calculated. Every slash was parried, every thrust deflected. The sound of metal on metal echoed through the room, a deadly rhythm that neither fighter dared to break.
Izuku's Sharingan whirled, tracking every micro-movement of his opponent. The man was good—too good. His defenses were tight, his counters sharp, and his footwork flawless. But Izuku had faced worse. He feinted left, then pivoted right, his tanto slicing upward in a diagonal arc. The man blocked, but the force of the blow forced him back a step.
He's strong, Izuku thought.
Behind him, the sounds of battle erupted as Flower and Snow engaged the rookies. Flower's frag tags lit up the room in brief flashes, while Snow's silencing seal kept the chaos contained. Izuku didn't have time to check on them, but he trusted his team. They'd handle their end. He had to focus on his own fight.
The man smirked, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You're not bad, kid."
Izuku didn't respond. He didn't have to. Instead, he pressed the attack, his movements a blur of precision and speed. His tanto clashed against the man's kunai, sparks flying with each strike. But the man was relentless, his counters growing faster, more aggressive.
Then, Izuku saw it—a tiny opening. The man's left shoulder dipped slightly after a particularly hard parry, his stance shifting just enough to expose his side. Izuku didn't hesitate. He lunged, his tanto aimed for the gap.
But the man was ready. He twisted at the last second, his free hand snapping up to grab Izuku's wrist. With a grunt, he yanked Izuku forward, throwing him off balance. Izuku recovered quickly, flipping backward to create distance.
"Not bad," the man said, his smirk widening. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Izuku's eyes narrowed. This wasn't working. He needed to change tactics. Placing his tanto in his mouth, he formed three hand seals with practiced ease, demonstrating his mastery of the Hiding in Mist technique. He grabbed his tanto again just as his opponent lunged, unwilling to let him complete the jutsu. But Izuku was faster. The room filled with thick, obscuring mist in an instant.
The man cursed, his voice muffled by the haze. Izuku moved silently, circling around to flank him. The mist was no obstacle to his enhanced vision. He could see the man clearly, his form outlined in chakra as he began forming hand seals of his own—likely preparing a Wind Release jutsu.
Izuku struck like a shadow, his tanto slicing through the air. The man sensed it at the last second, twisting to avoid the worst of the blow, but the blade still cut off a finger. He hissed in pain, his hand flying to the wound even as he finished his jutsu.
"Cheap trick," the man growled, his voice tight with anger.
"Effective, though," Izuku shot back, his tone cold.
The mist cleared, and the man's eyes locked onto Izuku's torso. There was no more amusement or anger in his expression now—just raw emptiness. He charged, his kunai a blur as he unleashed a flurry of strikes. Izuku met him head-on, their blades clashing in a deadly dance.
Why doesn't he look at my eyes for once? Izuku thought, his Sharingan whirling as he analyzed his opponent's movements.
Meanwhile, Flower and Snow were holding their own against the rookies. Flower's Taijutsu kept the younger shinobi on the defensive, while Snow's precise kunai throws forced them to split their attention. One of the rookies lunged at Flower, but she sidestepped effortlessly, slamming a fist into his gut. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
"Stay down, kid," Flower said, her voice firm. "This isn't your fight."
The other two rookies hesitated, their confidence wavering. Snow took advantage of the moment, weaving hand signs for a genjutsu. One of the rookies froze, his eyes glazing over as the illusion took hold. The other was about to pop something into his mouth, but Snow was already on him, his hand striking his neck with precision. He collapsed, unconscious.
"Clear on our end," Flower called out to Izuku. "Need backup?"
"Not yet," Izuku replied, his voice calm and controlled as he parried another strike. "Just keep them contained."
And then, he saw it. The man overextended on a thrust, his balance faltering for the briefest moment. Izuku didn't hesitate. He sidestepped the attack, his tanto slicing upward in a clean, precise arc. The blade found its mark, cutting deep into the man's chest.
The man cried out, his kunai slipping from his grasp. He stumbled back, clutching his wound, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Izuku stepped forward, his tanto poised for the finishing blow.
But before he could strike, a voice crackled through his VOCD. "Crow, we've got company. Reinforcements incoming. Wrap it up!"
Izuku cursed under his breath. He glanced at the man, who was now on his knees, blood pooling beneath him. "Bastard," the man spat, his voice weak but defiant.
Izuku hesitated for a moment, then trapped him in a genjutsu as he noticed the man moving something in his mouth—likely a poison pill or a signal device. "It is for you," he said coldly.
"Flower, Snow, we're leaving," Izuku ordered, sheathing his tanto. "Grab the civvie and the kids. We've got incoming."
"And what about him?" Asked snow pointing at the bleeding men.
Crow—or rather, Izuku—spoke, his voice dripping with dark undertones. "I've got some debts to return to the cunt."
Without another word, Izuku—Crow—moved toward the bleeding man, his steps deliberate and unhurried. The man, still trapped in the genjutsu, twitched weakly, his eyes glazed but filled with defiance. Izuku crouched in front of him, his Sharingan spinning slowly, reflecting the dim light through the holes of his mask.
"You've caused a lot of trouble," Izuku said, his voice low and measured. "But this isn't just about the mission anymore. This is personal."
The man, still immobilized by the genjutsu, remained silent. Izuku leaned closer, his tone dropping to a near whisper. "You took something from me. Something I can't get back. And now, you're going to pay for it."
Behind him, Flower and Snow were already moving, securing the civilian and the unconscious rookies. Flower glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "Crow, we don't have time for this. Reinforcements are likely fighting the ANBU team outside."
"I'll make it quick," Izuku replied, his eyes never leaving the man's face. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small scroll, all the while injecting a senbon into the man's spine, rendering him half-dead. Unrolling the scroll, he pressed it against the man's chest, the seal activating and spreading across his entire body. The man's eyes shut as he was rendered almost lifeless, a faint glow emanating from the seal ans writings spread across his body.
The man's body began to dissolve into a swirl of chakra, condensing into the scroll as the seal completed its work. Izuku rolled the scroll tightly, securing it with a practiced flick of his wrist before tucking it into his pouch. The man was no longer a threat—just another piece of evidence, a bargaining chip, or perhaps a message to be delivered later.
Izuku stood, his Sharingan still active as he scanned the room one last time. "Let's move. We've got what we came for."