A knock echoed through the room.
"Bang-bang—" The sudden sound startled Asuma, making him tremble, cold sweat forming on his forehead.
"Who?!" His voice, usually confident, came out shrill, tinged with panic. He resembled a frightened rabbit.
"Asuma, it's me."
Hearing the familiar voice of his father, the Third Hokage, Asuma felt a wave of relief wash over him, calming his nerves. The door creaked open, and he was met with Sarutobi's steady gaze.
"Father… father…" Asuma muttered, his head lowering in shame. The rebellious edge he usually wore vanished. For the first time in a long while, he felt small, ashamed in front of his father. Despite his position as the Third Hokage's son, a title he didn't like others to focus on, he had to admit that it had once filled him with pride. But now, facing Youyu—a ninja born from ordinary roots—he felt humbled, stripped of all confidence.
He hadn't even seen Youyu draw his blade, yet the presence alone had been enough to reduce him to a trembling, weakened state. In front of everyone, he had lost face—a humiliation hard to bear for someone raised in privilege.
"Asuma, why don't you come out to eat?" Sarutobi Hiruzen's voice softened, a contrast to his usual stern tone. Seeing the distress in his son's eyes, he felt a pang of sympathy.
"Father, I…" Asuma stammered, unable to articulate the turmoil he felt, though his fear grew more vivid as he remembered what had happened.
"Come, sit down. Take your time." Sarutobi placed a hand on his son's shoulder, patting it gently, his voice comforting.
With an uncharacteristic obedience, Asuma nodded, settling down slowly. Under his father's reassuring presence, he began to tell him about the events in class earlier that day.
"Was Youyu there?" Sarutobi murmured, exhaling a thin stream of smoke as his eyes filled with nostalgia and memories. After a pause, he set aside the past and focused on encouraging his son. He reminded Asuma of the "Will of Fire," a philosophy that had guided generations of Konoha shinobi, including Asuma himself. Little by little, his words lifted Asuma's spirit, though the fear still lingered, hidden beneath his calm exterior.
"Go now, have dinner, and don't keep your mother waiting," Sarutobi said with a sigh, noticing the persistent fear in Asuma's eyes, even as his son nodded and left the room.
Left alone, Sarutobi Hiruzen moved to the window, looking out into the starry sky, his expression complicated. "Youren, you raised an exceptional son," he murmured, a mixture of pride and sorrow in his voice.
Qimu Youren had once been a trusted shinobi under his command, an elite Jounin with incredible strength. Sarutobi had admired Youren deeply. He'd even named Youyu, feeling a sense of responsibility toward the child after Youren's tragic death, a loss caused by his own miscalculation. At the time, Youyu's mother had been pregnant. When she heard the news, her sorrow led to complications during childbirth. Though Youyu survived, he became an orphan from birth.
Feeling a deep guilt, Sarutobi had kept a close eye on Youyu's growth. When he learned of Youyu's drinking habits, he'd tried to discourage it—at one point even using a transformation technique to confront him in disguise. Yet, when he discovered that alcohol seemed to boost Youyu's chakra rather than harm him, he let it be, even allowing Youyu to enroll in the Ninja Academy despite his unorthodox behavior.
Looking out at the night, Sarutobi Hiruzen reflected on the strength and resilience Youyu had shown.