The sterile white ceiling glares down at me, an unrelenting reminder of my misfortune. I glare back, as if my sheer resentment alone could make it disappear.
The sight of it offends me more than it should, but I don't care. Being here is excruciatingly unbearable.
It wasn't that long ago that I was walking free and cursing my heart out, reveling in the sheer thrill of being out of confinement. And now? Now I'm back. Again. As if the universe itself delights in pulling me back into this miserable place just when I start to believe I've escaped. Talk about false hope, really.
The realization weighs on me, pressing against my chest like an immovable boulder. I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry. I won't cry. Not over this.
But damn, it's so frustrating.
"This is so frustrating."
The words slip past my lips in a groan, my voice raw with helplessness. The absurdity of my situation is almost laughable—if it weren't so maddening.
I struggle to accept the simple, undeniable fact that I have once again woken up in the place I dread the most. Because. Really. Why? Why, in Kami's name, do I have to wake up in this godforsaken place? At this point, it wouldn't be a surprise if others thought I lived here now.
A sigh pulls my attention away from the ceiling. I shift my gaze to the side, where an old man sits in a chair beside my not-so-comfortable bed, his presence a stark contrast to my mounting exasperation.
Unlike me, he seems entirely at ease, as if he belongs here, as if I belong here. Fuck that.
I narrow my eyes at him. "Why am I here, Jii-chan?"
Is it chakra exhaustion, again? I mean. When was it not about chakra exhaustion? I can already see it written in my grave. RIP from chakra exhaustion.
The old man exhales slowly, his lined face unreadable.
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. The rhythmic slice of his kunai against the apple's skin is the only sound filling the otherwise still hospital room. The tension settles deep into my bones, wrapping around me like iron chains, growing heavier with every second that passes without an answer.
I don't move. I don't speak. I just lie there, back turned to him, eyes locked on the blank hospital wall. My fingers twitch against the sheets, itching to grab something—anything—to throw at his infuriatingly calm face.
He peels the apple in one continuous motion, as if my frustration isn't worth breaking his focus.
Soon, a chunk of apple lands on my bedside table with a soft thud. I glance at it but don't reach for it. I know it's an offering—his way of grounding me, of giving me something tangible to focus on. Still, I don't move. I need an answer more than I need the taste of fruit on my tongue.
Grandpa finally sighs, setting the kunai aside. His fingers linger on the blade for a second longer before he looks at me, his expression unreadable.
"You tell me," he says, watching me carefully.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
His question catches me off guard.
Why is he asking me that?
The last thing I remember.
My hand moves on its own, fingers grazing the base of my nape. The motion is automatic, unconscious—yet it betrays me. And that's all Grandpa needs to confirm his suspicions.
The unsettling encounter flashes through my mind like an unwanted specter. I remember it. Of course, I do.
I just don't want to.
But now, as my fingers press against my skin, nothing happens. No strange pull. No unbearable drain. My chakra remains undisturbed, unlike before, when it had been wrenched from me as if ripped away by invisible hands.
Did that really happen?
Or was the encounter with that entity just a dream? If it wasn't, then was that the reason I'm here? Is that why Grandpa is asking me this?
What the hell happened to me?
A flicker of alarm stirs in my chest.
"You've been unconscious for eight days, Noemi."
"Eight days?!" I almost blurted aloud, my mind snapping back to reality.
How messed up was I to be unconscious for eight whole days? That's more than a week!
Grandpa exhales, his shoulders tense. "You were critically injured. Do you know that?" His voice is steady, but there's an edge to it. "Your chakra was fried—not to mention exhausted beyond repair. And no matter what they did, you wouldn't wake up. The medical-nin did everything they could, yet even they didn't know what was wrong with you."
I swallow hard.
His hand tightens around the kunai, his knuckles turning white. A rare display of emotion from the man who had always been my unshakable pillar.
"When I found you, Emi" he murmurs, his voice dropping low, "you were outside, unconscious and barely breathing. Kami knows how long you had been there, but your skin was deathly cold like a corpse."
I stiffen.
Grandpa meets my gaze, his dark eyes unwavering—his expression betraying nothing. But then, for the briefest moment, his sharingan flickers to life.
A silent warning.
He's not telling me everything.
"I know how much you don't want to be here," he continues, voice carefully measured,
"...but considering the state you were in where your life might still be in danger," He pauses just long enough for the weight of his words to settle in.
"I.." His voice drops to a whisper.
"I can't afford to take risks, Noemi."
He lowers his head into his hands.
"If only I hadn't left you behind," he mutters, his voice strained, "then maybe you.."
His jaw clenches, frustration seeping into his words. The self-directed anger is unmistakable.
I watch him, my heart twisting to an unimaginable degree. Grandpa—the man who had always seemed unbreakable—was blaming himself.
"I'm sorry too, Jii-chan," I thought bitterly, frustration giving way to quiet defeat.
For being so utterly useless.
There are numerous things that I do not understand.
My memories. My chakra. My lineage. My existence.
[—"A lonely existence," the entity remarked]
The voice slithers through my mind like a whisper of something ancient and cruel, something that knows. A shiver runs down my spine.
Perhaps, I didn't want to understand.
Because understanding would mean acknowledging it. Acknowledging them. And I am not sure I have the strength for that.
The ominous words of that terrifying ordeal echo dreadfully in my head, unshakable, sinking deep into the very fabric of my being. I can feel my resolve splintering beneath the weight of it all.
Have I always been this weak? This pathetic? Am I regressing to that reckless person? Will my life end like that as well?
A cold, unrelenting dread settles in my chest.
I felt so suffocated that I can't breathe.
Grandpa doesn't say a word, but I feel his gaze on me. Observing. Calculating. He sees it—the way my own thoughts ensnare me, trapping me in an abyss I cannot climb out of. He sees the lifelessness in my eyes, the vacant stare that no child should ever wear.
A gaze that has witness death, experienced death.
A gaze that has accepted death.
But he does not break the silence. He does not coddle me with reassurances or attempt to drag me out of my despair. No, he remains steadfast, watching—waiting.
Then, as if coming to a decision, he acts.
Without a word, he disappears.
One moment he is there, the next, he is gone. The only trace of his presence is a single, lone leaf drifting onto his empty chair, weightless yet final.
I'm alone again.
Kazuma's POV
A few days before Noemi Tsukiko regained consciousness, Kazuma found himself standing in the halls of Konoha Hospital, listening to the medical-nin assigned to her case. Their words were calm, clinical, detached even—but he barely registered them.
Kazuma's mind was elsewhere.
He had seen her like that before. Too many times.
But that night, that night was different.
The memory burned itself into his mind—Noemi, lying limp in his arms as he frantically carried her to the hospital. Her body was unnaturally cold despite his desperate efforts to warm her with his chakra, wrapping her tightly in his haori to shield her from the chilly air. Her breaths came in shallow, broken pauses, as if at any moment they might stop altogether.
She was so still.
Too still.
Like a corpse.
And then, there was that incident.
Her twin-tailed hair had fallen away from her nape, revealing the hidden crescent-shaped sigil that had once gleamed with a silvery glow—visible only in fleeting moments—once when the unnatural foreign energy erupted into the night and again at the Shrine.
However, this time, it was different.
The mark had definitely changed.
Where it had once flickered like a reflection on the water's surface, it now stood stark and unmoving against her skin—white and lifeless, like a permanently engraved tattoo devoid of its former silvery luster.
He once tried to discern the purpose of the mark using his fully developed sharingan—a mark that was almost identical to the one he had known from someone else.
However, all he perceived was a lack of similarity.
He had found no connection between the seals and techniques that Mirai had describe to him—techniques that had been passed down through the generations of the Tsukiko Clan.
Instead, his eyes saw something far stranger.
Her chakra... avoided it.
Rather than flowing through naturally, as it should, her chakra circled it, disconnected from the seal itself, as if it did not belong to her at all. As if something foreign had taken root in her very being. And yet, despite all his searching and careful observation—the mark revealed nothing to him.
Kazuma had never been one to rely on others when it came to Noemi. But this time he had no choice.
That was why he agreed to a thorough examination of Noemi when she refused to wake up—trapped in her vegetative state, neither asleep nor truly consciousness. Among all her admissions—of which there were many—this was by far the most baffling.
"Uchiha-san," a voice called, calm and respectful.
Kazuma turned to see a woman standing before him. White eyes, composed demeanor—a Hyuga.
"I'm Himari Hyuga, a member of the medical team in Konoha's Diagnosis Division," she introduced herself smoothly. "I was tasked with analyzing the condition of the patient, Noemi Tsukiko." The medical-nin added.
Kazuma studied the med-nin silently, waiting.
"Despite her condition showing no improvement, there is no conclusive evidence within her body to explain her prolonged unconsciousness," Himari continued, her brows knitting together slightly. "However, there are indications that her chakra network has been forcibly expanded. Ideally, such a situation only occurs when the patient is exposed to or injected with an immense amount of chakra, and in most cases, their body cannot withstand it—especially a child who has not yet developed the physical resilience needed to endure overwhelming chakra."
Kazuma's frown deepened.
"The reason she has done well for the past years wasn't just due to her exceptional regenerative abilities adapting to extreme chakra depletion. It was because she had time to heal in between," Himari explained. "This, however, is an entirely different case."
She hesitated briefly before continuing, her voice dropping in pitch.
"Noemi did not expel her chakra in one go. No. According to our investigation, she received an unprecedented amount of chakra all at once—an amount that, frankly, should have guaranteed her death on the spot. No natural talent, no regenerative ability, nothing should have saved her from it."
Yet, Noemi survived.
And not only had she survived, but her chakra signature had altered—denser, purer. An anomaly.
"It is outright impossible," Himari muttered, sounding equal parts baffled and wary. "It was nothing short of a miracle."
Kazuma's eyes narrowed.
Miracle? No.
There was always a price for survival.
"Rest assured, the medical team has stabilized her condition and addressed the damage to the best of our ability," Himari quickly added, sensing his growing unease.
"But there is more," she hesitated, as if carefully choosing her next words. "There are signs that she had been unconsciously channeling chakra through the seal that wasn't recorded on her medical diagnosis before—continuously, to the point of exhaustion. That is likely another reason she was losing more chakra than she could replenish before her last admission."
The mark.
That damn mark.
Kazuma clenched his jaw. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed only reignited his unease.
"Fortunately, her body has isolated itself from the mark for now, preventing any further chakra loss," Himari continued, though she still seemed troubled.
Then, after a brief pause, she added, "The hospital is interested in further investigating her case, if possible. The absence of records on such phenomena may be attributed to the uniqueness of her lineage, but without any family medical history for comparison, we cannot be certain."
Kazuma didn't miss what she was implying.
Noemi's mother—Mirai—had never required hospitalization, thanks to her formidable resilience and natural affinity for medical jutsu. Even during pregnancy, she had only sought out a midwife, never a full medical team. If she had displayed abilities similar to Noemi, no one would have been able to documented them.
And now, that lack of information left Noemi alone in her predicament, with no precedent to compare her condition to.
"No," Kazuma decisively answered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
He would not allow Noemi to become the subject of the hospital's curiosity. Not when she despised the attention. Not when she would see it as a betrayal.
The med-nin simply smiled at the refusal with professionalism, her composure unwavering.
"Of course, Uchiha-san," she replied. "We will not take any action without your consent as her guardian. But please be noted that the offer remains open, should you ever wish to reconsider."
Kazuma remained silent. He knew it was hospital policy to keep a patient's condition confidential, but who in their right mind would associate the word confidential with a shinobi's name?
If he had known this would happen, he would have stopped himself from agreeing to let the hospital examine Noemi.
Shifting the conversation, she continued, "We have done everything possible to aid in her recovery and will continue in monitoring her condition. However, we are still unable to determine when she will awaken."
Then, with a gentle smile, she added, "Have faith, Uchiha-san. I believe things will work out for both you and Noemi-chan."
Kazuma exhaled slowly. "Thank you, Hyuga-san."
She bowed slightly before excusing herself, leaving him to his thoughts.
Kazuma lingered in the hallway for a moment before heading back to Noemi's room. The hospital had assigned her a private space on the ICU, knowing she would likely be monitored here for some time.
When he entered, the room was quiet.
Noemi lay motionless on the hospital bed, surrounded by numerous life-support machines, their soft beeping the only sign that she was still alive. Her breathing was steady, her expression unreadable in her sleep.
Kazuma sighed, suddenly feeling every bit of his age.
Taking a chair, he sat beside her bed, watching over her in silence.
And so, he waited—for her to wake up.
Kazuma had no obligations aside from the occasional clan meetings—gatherings he barely tolerate. More often than not, his days were filled with empty hours. With his wealth and war pension, he had no need to concern himself with living expenses. He was free to live the peaceful life of a retired elder—something any shinobi would have dreamed of.
He had already given enough of his life to the battlefield—and lost enough in return.
The price of his participation in the last war were his eyes, leaving him half-blind. For an Uchiha—who are obsessed with their eyes and whose very essence rely on their ocular prowess—losing their sight was akin to a death sentence in their career as a shinobi. But even with his vision impaired, he remained firm in his decision not to return to active duty.
His world had shifted, no longer centered around conflict but instead around the one person who made his continued existence bearable—his adopted child.
Kazuma was already weary of the conflicts both within and beyond the village, acknowledging that in war, there were no victors—only survivors.
Thus, he spent his days in quiet routine.
His visits to Noemi becoming habitual.
Whenever possible, he brought fresh fruits, replacing those that had gone untouched from his previous visits. It was a small, simple ritual, but one that reassured him that she was still here, still fighting.
Himari Hyuga had informed him that Noemi's condition was steadily improving. Her body, though exhausted, was finally stabilizing. All she needed was time. He had taken her words to heart, though he refused to leave her alone for long.
It was during one of these silent vigils, just before Noemi started to regain consciousness—he was seated beside her when he discovered something unexpected.
Noemi sleep-talked.
At first, it was nothing but unintelligible murmurs, soft breaths of sound that barely formed words.
But then, his ears caught something distinct.
A name.
Not one he recognized.
It was foreign to him, confusing—until she uttered another.
"Obito..."
Kazuma's smirk was instant, a flicker of amusement lighting up his lone eye.
"Obito Uchiha, huh?"
His gaze lingered on her unconscious form, sufficiently intrigued as he watched her brows knit slightly, her lips parting as if struggling to voice something—lost in the haze of her sleep
Obito. Kazuma leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he observed her, pondering.
What exactly was running through that restless mind of hers? And why was she dreaming of him?
Noemi's POV
The hospital room was quiet—deafeningly so.
A suffocating emptiness weighed heavily on my chest as I sat there, staring at the single leaf resting on grandpa's vacant chair. A faint trace of his presence, yet he was nowhere in sight.
Jii-chan?
My eyes widened, and my heart began to race. I swiftly scanned the entire room, my gaze darting around. Yet—he. isn't. here.
'He's not here'
That thought repeated in my mind, over and over.
"Jii-chan?!" My voice came out weak, hoarse, hysterical, betraying the panic creeping into my veins.
I tried to move, but my body felt sluggish like a lead—too weak from being bedridden for what I assumed was at least eight days. My feet dangled uselessly off the side of the bed, my fingers gripping the sheets in frustration. I was pathetically calling out his name.
I knew it. He had left me.
I just didn't know why. I know why.
Tears welled in my eyes, the heaviness in my chest growing unbearable.
'Did he get tired of me?'
'Did I push him away?'
The thought made my throat tighten.
I had snapped at him earlier, let my irritation get the best of me. I never wanted him to leave.
I hated being alone.
But now, it felt as though I was meant to be.
The entity's voice slithered back into my thoughts, dark and mocking. "A lonely existence."
A choked sob escaped me.
'Is this really my fate? Do I not belong here, either?'
My head throbbed, a dizzying pain spreading through my skull. My vision blurred with unshed tears, warping the sight of the ceiling above me.
That damned ceiling.
Mocking me, imprisoning me—reminding me of everything I had no control over.
I exhaled shakily, allowing my body to fall back onto the bed, my legs still dangling. The tears eventually ceased, leaving me feeling hollow.
I let my chakra retreat inward, making myself small—invisible.
It was one of my old habit. One I used to do when I didn't want grandpa to sense me in my weakest—A desperate attempt to disappear.
As the crushing weight of depression overwhelms me, a sudden burst of chakra jolted me upright, alarmed.
My muscles tensed instinctively, and before I even realized what I was doing, my hands unintentionally gripped a pillow tightly—my deadly makeshift weapon.
The smoke hadn't even cleared when a shrill, indignant voice pierced the air.
"PUT. ME. DOWN! Put me down, you stinky old man! This is kidnapping—KIDNAPPING, you know!"
A second voice, slightly muffled, chimed in.
"Obito! Stop squirming so much! I can't breathe!"
"Ah! Sorry, Rin!"
Then, a third voice—bored, unimpressed.
"I'll have you know, if it's Obito you're after, I don't care about that guy. You can do whatever you want with him."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, TEME?!"
"Stop it, you two!"
The smoke finally dispersed, revealing an unbelievable sight.
Two identical versions of Grandpa stood in my hospital room—each holding children around my age.
One Grandpa had two kids wrapped in his arms, holding them tightly as if they were an unruly litter of cats. The other Grandpa held a struggling boy up by the collar, effortlessly dangling him mid-air like a misbehaving puppy.
My brain failed to process what I was looking at.
'What the fuck?'
I barely stopped myself from saying it out loud.
Instead, I stared blankly at the absurd scene unfolding in front of me, my mouth slightly agape.
"I can't believe it."
The words slipped out in sheer disbelief.
Am I.. hallucinating? Had I finally lost my mind?
Because there was no way this was happening.
I blinked, still gripping the pillow tightly. My mind was struggling to keep up with the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.
Obito's eyes were wide, flicking between me and Grandpa. "Noemi?! Were you kidnapped too?!" he blurted out, looking completely horrified.
Before I could even respond, the other boy—Kakashi, if I remembered correctly—let out a scoff.
"Are your eyes failing you now, you idiot? We're in a hospital, and she's wearing a hospital gown. It's obvious she's the mastermind behind this."
He scowled at the man holding him up by the collar, arms crossed despite literally being suspended mid-air.
Obito's face twisted in an expression of pure betrayal.
"OR! He's trying to kidnap her too!"
He suddenly growled at Kakashi, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "And you're the idiot!" he shot back, voice rising in indignation.
Kakashi simply rolled his eyes, clearly done with everything.
While the they were bickering and snapping at each other, Rin tiredly stare at the two in disbelief—her shoulders slumping as she rubbed her temples.
"I can't believe this..." she muttered tiredly, staring at the two of them like they were the biggest disappointments of her life.
And honestly? I kind of agreed.
Before I could even think of a response to this madness, Grandpa finally spoke.
"What do you think you're trying to do with that pillow?"
His tone was completely unimpressed, as if I had personally offended him with my sad excuse of a weapon.
I hesitated, still clutching the pillow like it was my last lifeline. His brow was raised mockingly, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes.
I glanced at the squirming children, then at the two Grandpas, then back at my pillow.
I let the pillow fall back onto my lap, defeated.
"Ha!" I huffed sharply in exasperation, snapping out of the shock that had bound me. The tears I had just forgotten about? Yeah, they came back with a vengeance—except this time, they were accompanied by a full-blown, uncontrollable laugh.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" I cackled, almost to a concerning degree. My body trembled with it, shoulders shaking as I clung to the pillow like it was my only anchor.
Obito, Kakashi, and Rin all froze, staring at me like I had just lost my mind. Even Grandpa's expression wavered, though he wisely stayed silent, observing.
'The main cast is here,' I thought a bit hysterically.
'And how the fuck did Grandpa even manage to bring Kakashi into the mix?!'
It was so funny that I can't help but hiccup in between of my laughter, gripping the pillow tighter as I did.
Disbelief. Joy. Shock. And a painful, aching sort of Longing—a whirlwind of emotions swung violently inside me.
'I probably look hideous and insane, right now'
I thought uselessly.
The sheer absurdity of everything—the ridiculous bickering, grandpa dragging these three in, my own overwhelming relief at not being alone anymore—had successfully cracked something inside me.
I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing myself to steady my breathing, but my shoulders still trembled slightly. My vision was blurry, but the weight pressing against my chest felt a little lighter. I was utterly losing it.
Obito, ever the reckless idiot, cautiously took a step forward before dramatically pointing at me.
"SEE?! You traumatized her!" he accused, turning on Grandpa like he had just witnessed a war crime.
Kakashi let out a sigh, arms still crossed despite dangling mid-air.
"Or maybe she just realized she's stuck with you."
Ahem! For a briefest moment, I coughed.
Rin, finally having enough, pinched the bridge of her nose. "I swear, both of you are impossible..."
While I was caught between laughing and crying from the sheer absurdity of it all, Grandpa finally decided to make his move.
Without a shred of hesitation, he unceremoniously dropped the young Uchiha he had been holding—who, judging by the exaggerated yelp and the sheer dramatics, was undoubtedly the Obito Uchiha.
Rin, on the other hand, was carefully placed on her feet, adjusting quickly to her surroundings. Meanwhile, Kakashi remained dangling in the air, eerily calm as he studied his predicament.
When he realize he wasn't getting off grandpa's hold.
Kakashi made a decisive kick, in one swift motion. He shifted his body, extending his leg to deliver a precise, almost lazy kick to the shin of grandpa's shadow clone. The moment his foot made contact, the clone vanished in a puff of smoke.
Silence.
Rin was the first to move now that she was free, wasting no time in approaching me.
"Is she alright?" she asked, her concern evident as she willingly went along with the kidnapping fiasco grandpa had orchestrated.
Before I could even process how to respond, Obito dramatically clutched his lower back and groaned.
"I'm not!" Obito chimed in, rubbing his bum with exaggerated misery.
"I just got thrown like a sack of potatoes!"
He turned a heated glare toward Grandpa, full of righteous indignation. Grandpa, however, remained unimpressed, merely raising a single brow at the young Uchiha's antics.
I, on the other hand, was caught in the chaos of my own emotions, torn between breaking down into sobs or collapsing into another fit of laughter.
My chest ached from both.
Kakashi scoffed, his voice laced with something between disdain and exasperation.
"What a crybaby. If you're going to cry, then cry. Why do you have to laugh?"
His words cut through the moment, sharp and rhetorical, but I couldn't tell if he was truly disgusted, confused or just bewildered.
Rin's voice wavered, soft yet pleading.
"Kakashi..." Rin uttered helplessly.
The smile on my face never faded however, but while my attention was on Kakashi, I failed to notice the storm brewing just a few steps away. Obito was already stirring up his own chaos with grandpa.
"Oi! Jijii, you—!" His voice rang out, only to be cut off.
"Brat, can't you see I'm your clan elder. Is that how Sachiko been teaching you?" Grandpa said simply, shutting up the young Uchiha.
Obito remained frozen in place, looking incredulous.
"You know Obaasan?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Grandpa frowned, asking a question of his own as if it was so obvious to know the names who he shares the same bloodline with.
Obito stared at Grandpa as if seeing him in an entirely different light. His usual loud, impulsive demeanor faltered as he processed the weight of that casual acknowledgment.
In the Uchiha Clan, lineage dictated importance. So someone like Obito's grandma who doesn't shown talent befitting of an Uchiha in terms of ocular prowess she was seldomly acknowledge. The reason Obito's house was also located at the outskirts of the Uchiha Compound was strongly attributed with their status in the clan. It might also be why Obito was being bullied.
In Kakashi Gaiden, Obito was seen patched with countless gauzes all over his body. Just like Naruto.
Elders and prodigies were revered, while those without noteworthy achievements or pure bloodlines were often left unrecognized.
His grandmother, Sachiko, had always been kind to him, raising him with warmth even in a clan that rarely showed such affection. But outside their small world, she was barely acknowledged.
So why did this person speak her name so naturally?
Obito swallowed hard before blurting out, "You're the only person who's ever mentioned her name.". His voice was quieter than usual, uncertain.
Grandpa scoffed.
"That's because I actually have a brain, unlike some of those insufferable fools who let their arrogance blind them."
His words were blunt, but they carried an undeniable truth. Even Kakashi, despite his usual indifference, seemed mildly interested.
I watched Obito's expression shift—hesitation, disbelief, and something oddly vulnerable.
I didn't want to see that on Obito's face. It hurts me. I want to say something, to at least comfort him a little but as always I wasn't the one to step forward.
Rin, ever the peacemaker, voiced the question Obito was eager to hear the answer to.
"Elder Kazuma, do you know Obito's grandmother personally?"
Grandpa crossed his arms, exhaling through his nose.
"I wouldn't call it personally, but she was a bright girl when she was younger. Stubborn, just like this one." He motioned toward Obito, who was still processing everything. "She had a sharp mind, but the clan never cared much for brilliance that didn't serve their narrow vision."
Obito blinked. "She never told me that."
"Because it wouldn't have changed anything, brat" Grandpa said it with finality, as if that alone explained it all.
Obito's fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He was always trying—so desperately trying—to prove himself, to be seen. But if even his grandmother, the woman who had raised him, had once been ignored then what chance did he have?
A sharp slap resounded through the room. His own hand had struck his cheek before his thoughts could betray him further. No. He refused to go down that path. He was Obito Uchiha—a man who never gave up. This was just another hurdle, one more mountain to climb. And he would climb it, no matter what.
Breathing deep, he forced his emotions into check. Then, as if shaking off the weight of doubt, he spun around, arms crossing over his chest.
"Hmph!" He snorted, defiance burning in his gaze.
"What do you know, Jijii?! I don't care if you're an elder or even the Hokage—I'll take you on head-to-head, you old man!" His voice rang out, unwavering, bold.
The elder sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, rubbing his temple.
Where did this brat get all that energy?
Kakashi, who had remained silent until now, let out an exaggerated sigh, his patience wearing thin. He was getting tired of this loudmouth constantly picking fights he had no chance of winning.
"It's honestly impressive how you idiots just accept being kidnapped as part of your daily routine," he muttered, shaking his head. Then, with a pointed glance at Obito, he added, "It's just as exhausting watching you pick fights you know you can't win."
Predictably, Obito spun on him, bristling like a cornered animal.
"Oi, bastard! If you're so bored, then leave! No one asked you to be here!"
And just like that, the moment passed, replaced by another set of bickering.
Grandpa, watching it all unfold, shook his head in amusement before settling his gaze back on me.
"You look better now, Noemi."
I blinked at him.
For a moment, I didn't understand what he meant. But then I realized—my shoulders weren't as tense. My breathing had steadied. The crushing weight of loneliness that had been suffocating me just minutes ago had lightened. I looked down at my hands, then back at the people in the room—Obito, Rin, even Kakashi, despite his rude attitude.
I wasn't alone anymore.
My grip on the pillow loosened.
"Yeah," I admitted softly. "I think I am."
Narrator's POV
Kazuma watched from the doorway, his slightly blurry eyes taking in the scene before him.
Noemi, laughing. Crying. Bickering with her peers.
It was a sight he had longed to see.
For too long, she had been trapped in that hollow sadness she refused to speak of. She tried to hide it, but Kazuma wasn't blind. He had noticed the shift—the way her smiles never quite reached her eyes anymore, the way she lingered in silence for just a second too long, the way her presence itself felt heavier.
It was a familiar sorrow, one he had only seen once before.
His fingers twitched as an old memory surfaced—
[ --Mirai, eyes clouded with an unbearable weight, burdened by the gift of insight their bloodline cursed upon its chosen.--]
Kazuma inhaled sharply, shaking the memory away.
Noemi's time would come. If it hadn't already.
That was why he never questioned it. Because deep down, he knew he had no right to.
But what he could do was ensure she was not alone.
He wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could reach her the way these three could. He knew his limits—knew that, as much as she loved him, he wasn't the person she needed right now.
So he made sure to find someone who could be.
He had chosen them carefully—Obito, Rin, Kakashi. Children who, despite their own struggles, could pull Noemi out of whatever abyss she had fallen into.
And judging by the energy in the room, the way Noemi clung to that pillow, the way her eyes crinkled as she shot back sarcastic remarks—
It was working.
Kazuma allowed a smirk to tug at his lips.
He supposed he could forgive Obito for his earlier disrespectful remarks.
Moving forward, he stepped past Rin and Kakashi, approaching his ward. As he did, Noemi glanced up at him, eyes still glistening with unshed tears but brighter than before.
Kazuma placed a hand on her head, ruffling her hair lightly before exhaling.
"Good. You look like yourself again."
Noemi blinked at him before rolling her eyes.
"Jii-chan, I always look like myself." She pouted.
He only chuckled.
Kazuma knew better.
Noemi's POV
"Jii-chan..." I started, my voice wavering between uncertainty and relief. He hadn't abandoned me.
"Jii-chan?!" Obito's voice shot through the room, his shock palpable.
"Noemi, are you—are you an Uchiha?!" he blurted out, wide-eyed. Even Rin, who had remained composed until now, looked genuinely intrigued.
Before I could respond, Obito's outburst became an unexpected distraction—a perfect opportunity for Kakashi. Silent as a shadow, he slipped away right through the window.
Very Kakashi, I mused, my gaze following his retreat. But why the window? The door was literally right there.
"Noemi, Hey!" Obito loudly said, his tone almost offended by my momentary distraction. He knew Kakashi left, yet he didn't cared.
"Not yet," I muttered under my breath, earning a sharp look from Grandpa, his eyes widening in surprise. Realizing how cryptic that must have sounded, I quickly corrected myself.
"I mean. I'm not an Uchiha." I let the words sink in before continuing, my voice steady.
" 'Jii-chan' is just what I called him myself, Obito. He's my guardian—the one who raised me. That's why I introduced myself to you as Noemi Tsukiko, didn't I? " I glanced at Obito, a teasing edge creeping into my tone. "I'm surprised you didn't know me, Obito-kun. I'm quite famous in your clan." I giggled, slightly tensed underneath.
"No, I.." Obito blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "I wasn't informed. Why were you famous?" His confusion was evident, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece things together, which he miserably failed.
Before I could answer, Grandpa took the opportunity to clear his throat, seizing control of the conversation.
"I apologize for bringing you here without your consent," he said smoothly, his sharp gaze settling on the guest he had so casually abducted.
"It's kidnapping, Jijii," Obito muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a note of exasperation—almost a whine.
Grandpa, feigning complete ignorance of Obito's grumbling, simply smiled. His eyes flicked to Rin, who had inched closer to me without my notice.
"You're Rin, aren't you?"
Grandpa said, shifting his attention to her, which we all followed along. Rin straightened, beaming.
"Hai! Uchiha-san," she chirped.
"I'm Rin Nohara." Her innocent smile was warm, completely unfazed by the absurdity of the situation.
Rin.
I studied her quietly, my thoughts swirling.
She's a strong pillar for Obito—kind, compassionate, innocent, yet headstrong, as if nothing in this world could break her. Almost like an angel.
The thought tugged at something deep within me, a memory from the anime flickering in my mind.
The only thing that unsettles me... is her refusal to accept Obito's feelings.
A pang of guilt settled in my chest at the relief I felt because of it.
But it doesn't matter. If Obito needs you, Rin...
I hesitated, my gaze lingering on her longer than I intended, pushing aside the heartache pounding in my chest.
I won't allow you to die.
As if sensing the weight of my stare, Rin turned to me, her expression briefly startled before it softened into a warm, genuine smile.
I felt my defenses lower just a little.
"Hn."
Grandpa acknowledged Rin with a curt nod before crossing his arms, shifting his focus elsewhere.
"As for Obito," he said, his tone dismissive, "I'm sure you and Emi already met,"
Rin blinked, her curiosity instantly piqued as she turned to Obito, an unspoken question in her eyes—You never mentioned that.
Obito stiffened under her gaze, awkwardly glancing away. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his discomfort unmistakable.
I bit back a smirk.
"This is Noemi Tsukiko," Grandpa introduced, his voice steady as he gestured between us. "And as she says, I am her guardian—Kazuma Uchiha."
He paused. A beat too long.
His posture stiffened ever so slightly, subtle enough that most wouldn't notice—but not Obito.
Obito's irritation flared instantly.
"What is it, Jijii? Why did you brought us here?" Obito burst out, his frustration spilling over.
"He probably just wants us to befriend Noemi-chan," Rin interjected, her voice gentle as she tried to smooth over the tension. A hint of embarrassment colored her tone, likely on Obito's behalf.
Though Grandpa's behavior struck me as odd, my focus wavered. I had caught the tail end of Rin and Obito's quiet exchange, and something about it caused my lips to thin.
I can't comfort Obito the way Rin does.
The bitter thought settled deep in my chest.
I opened my mouth, intent on apologizing for the whole fiasco, but the words never came.
Instead, I hesitated—watching.
Rin's gaze flitted toward Obito every so often, subtle yet deliberate.
Was she assessing his reactions throughout this ordeal, trying to gauge the situation? It made sense—after all, it was an Uchiha who had kidnapped them. Or perhaps... she was simply keeping her promise.
Like in the anime.
She had sworn to watch over Obito. And, in her own quiet way, she still was.
A realization settled over me.
She must have grown dependent on him, too.
Yet for all their closeness, for all the silent trust between them, a question lingered at the back of my mind.
Why have they never call each other best friends?
Grandpa, whose eyes widened for the briefest second reverted his expression to its usual unreadable state. He turned his attention back to Obito and Rin.
"Hn. If you two could spend a little of your time with Emi, I will personally teach each of you a basic jutsu."
That certainly caught everyone's attention.
'What in Kami's name is Grandpa thinking now?'
A twinge of jealousy flickered in my chest. I had never been taught any jutsu myself, yet here he was, casually offering lessons to them.
Pouting, I watched as their excitement grew.
It's probably for the best. They'll need it soon enough. Though... I don't know if Obito can pull it off. At least, not yet. He was a slow learner, like Naruto was. But that was because no one was willing to teach them.
If it's grandpa, he could tap on Obito's talent.
"Really?!" Obito practically vibrated with enthusiasm, all thoughts of his abduction completely forgotten. His sheer energy was overwhelming, like a flame burning at full force.
If I hadn't been keeping my chakra in check, his happiness might have washed over me like a tidal wave, setting off a sharp, painful reaction.
I wasn't strong enough to handle that—not yet.
I'm still raw from the incident that jammed my chakra.
"We are grateful, Kazuma-san," Rin said with a respectful bow. Then, she turned to me, her eyes gleaming with something unexpected—warmth, a silent promise of friendship.
"But even without the jutsu," she added, stepping closer, "Obito and I would be happy to visit Noemi if she wants."
Before I could react, she took both of my hands in hers, leaning in ever so slightly. My chakra instinctively quieted itself, careful not to brush against hers.
"Yeah, Noemi! Rin is really nice to be around," Obito chimed in, practically bouncing on his feet. His eagerness was obvious—not just to spend time with me, but mostly with Rin.
I swallowed. Being cornered like this—by these three people, whom I didn't know if I even deserved—made it impossible to refuse them.
And truthfully... I didn't want to.
Just when I thought I wouldn't be seeing anyone for a while—curse or not...
The thought sobered me. I knew why Grandpa was doing this. And I appreciated it. But still, a whisper of doubt curled at the edges of my mind.
What will I have to pay for this momentary happiness?
I glanced at their faces—smiling, expectant, waiting for my answer.
A single thought settled in my heart.
Anything.
"So, how exactly did Grandpa kidnap you?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
Obito and Rin settled into their seats—Rin beside me, Obito comfortably sprawling in grandpa's chair as if it were his own.
Grandpa, after making his introductions, had left the same way Kakashi did—through the window.
Something must have unsettled him. But we were still within the village walls, so I wasn't too concerned.
I have that much faith in Jii-chan's skills.
Obito, eager to recount the details of his abduction, leaned forward with an amused grin.
"The Academy let us leave early today, Noemi," he began, his tone casual. "Torino-sensei, our taijutsu instructor, didn't show up for class, so we had extra free time." He glanced toward Rin for confirmation. "Rin and I decided to walk around the market since it was still too early to go home. Right, Rin?"
"Yeah," Rin nodded. "I was the one who suggested it. There was a prize booth everyone in class was talking about, so I wanted to check it out."
She turned to me as if to continue but hesitated.
I caught on immediately. "Is that why Kakashi was there?" I asked, my gaze flicking toward the window. It made sense—he was in their class, after all.
"Eh?! How do you know his name, Noemi?" Obito blurted out, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head. Then his expression twisted in horror. "Wait, don't tell me—you're one of his fangirls too?!"
I froze. Crap.
Turning swiftly to Obito, I waved my hands wildly in denial. "NO!" I squeaked, my face heating up. "Of course not!"
Obito narrowed his eyes in suspicion, while Rin, on the other hand, seemed to understand something I didn't.
I groaned inwardly. This misunderstanding was ridiculous. Then, remembering something, I quickly clarified, "Rin. Rin called him Kakashi earlier. That's how I knew."
Rin blinked before nodding. "Ah, I did."
She turned back to me, her expression brightening. "Kakashi is in our class, so he was there too."
Phew. Crisis averted.
"Today was actually the last day for the prize booth," she continued, excitement creeping into her voice. "Kakashi has been winning first prize lately. He's pretty cool."
Her enthusiasm was genuine, almost fangirl-like.
Obito, however, made a face like he'd just swallowed something bitter. "Tch," he scoffed, slumping in his chair.
Rin barely noticed his reaction. "For some reason, Obito got into a fight with him—"
She barely finished her sentence before Obito shot up from his seat.
"Rin! It was Bakashi who started it!" he burst out, mangling Kakashi's name in a poor attempt at an insult.
Rin sighed, clearly used to his antics. "Obito, let me finish first, okay?". She frowned, confused as to why Obito always acted strangely whenever Kakashi was involved.
I smiled faintly at their banter, but something felt... off.
I was having trouble keeping up with the conversation. My body felt sluggish, my limbs heavy. The adrenaline from earlier was fading fast, leaving behind an exhaustion that sank deep into my bones.
Why?
Is it because I'm still not well?
My body swayed slightly, and before I could stop myself, I leaned into Rin's side.
Rin, who was observant, noticed me reclining slowly towards her, "Noemi?" her voice was gentle, concerned.
Obito noticed too. He quickly moved to my other side, his earlier irritation replaced with worry. "Is she okay?"
"I'm fine," I assured them. But the words came a beat too late.
A pause. Then—
"I think I'm just.. tired."
The realization was strange. Almost unsettling.
I wanted to question it—to understand why my body was betraying me like this. But before I could form another thought, my vision blurred.
The last thing I registered was the faint warmth of Rin and Obito beside me, their voices laced with concern as the world faded into darkness.
Kazuma's POV
As much as Kazuma was relieved that things had gone smoothly with Noemi, the moment he finished introducing Obito and Rin to her—he left.
Something wasn't sitting right.
Though he had aged, he still prided himself on being one of Konoha's natural chakra sensors—a skill honed over years of war and survival. And just moments ago, near the hospital, he had sensed something.
A fluctuation in chakra. Subtle, but close enough to set his instincts on edge.
Someone had been watching.
Slipping soundlessly through the window and onto the rooftop, Kazuma activated his sharingan—three tomoe spun to a sharp focus as his gaze swept across the village skyline, searching for even the slightest anomaly.
Nothing.
Still, he didn't lower his guard.
He expanded his senses, stretching his awareness further. There had to be something. A presence that had flickered for just a moment before vanishing.
The fact that he found nothing only deepened his unease. His muscles tensed, ready to move—but before he could take a step, a voice stopped him.
"What's wrong, old man?"
Kazuma barely flicked his gaze to the side as Kakashi emerged from the foot of the rooftop, his presence effortless, casual. He settled onto the ledge, sitting with a practiced ease that only those with remarkable chakra control could manage.
Even Kazuma had to admit—he was impressed.
Still, he exhaled slowly, letting the tension in his shoulders ease. Whatever—or whoever—had been there was already gone.
The hostile energy he picked up was no longer in sight. It was already too late to chase the shadows.
So he stayed where he was, unmoving, watching the village below with eyes that had seen far too much.
Kazuma let go of his pursuit.
"Nothing much," he replied, his tone light, unconcerned whether Kakashi believed him or not. The wind tousled his long, spiky black hair as he stood on the rooftop, seemingly unbothered.
After a moment, he mused aloud, "I"m surprised you allowed yourself to be captured by me."
Kakashi's expression remained neutral, but his scowl deepened.
"I can understand why," Kazuma continued.
"You must have wanted to know where I'd taken your friends—"
"They're not my friends," Kakashi interrupted with a huff. His voice was sharp, almost irritated.
"It's because they're useless that I have to watch over them."
Kazuma arched a brow.
"Then why haven't you left?"
The boy had already confirmed that Obito and Rin weren't in any danger. That should have been enough for him to leave. And yet, here he was. Lingering.
Kazuma observed him carefully.
He knew this prodigious child.
Hatake Kakashi. The son of Konoha's White Fang. His father, a figure greater than the infamous Legendary Sannin, Hatake Sakumo.
'At the rate he's improving, he'll earn his own moniker soon enough.' Kazuma assessed.
"I overheard what you said to those idiots," Kakashi finally admitted. His voice was cool, measured. Then, after a brief pause, he added,
"I've also heard of you from my father before.", he shifted his bored gaze to Kazuma in confrontation.
Kazuma's eyes sharpened as Kakashi turned to face him fully, his eyes carrying a rare flicker of interest.
"You're one of the few shinobi in the village with the same chakra nature as me," Kakashi stated matter-of-factly.
Then, in a smooth motion, he lifted a familiar book between his fingers—the Bingo Book. Konoha's registry of dangerous shinobi. Kazuma's profile was open, his name and alias clearly displayed.
"Uchiha's Purple Reaper—Kazuma Uchiha."
The boy's mask couldn't fully hide the way his grin stretched beneath it.
"I'm interested in you teaching me your jutsu."
A/N: Hello again, dear readers - especially those who are still following this story. I hope you can appreciate this update as I do. Since I tried my best to finish it after falling down the stairs. Yes, I did fall and got my first broken ankle, I had it realign yesterday so I'm just chillin in my bed.
Edit: Just a day after, I fell again, in the exact same spot and with the exact same foot. I broke my ankle again. I thought it'd be like 2+2 of the pain, but it wasn't. It's 2x2—honestly, I never howled in my life than I did now.