The walk back to the village was subdued. Yuto's legs felt heavy, his mind swirling with fragmented thoughts. The image of the rogue shinobi's lifeless body lingered in his mind, as vivid as the blood that had pooled beneath it. No matter how much he tried to push it away, the scene replayed itself over and over.
He tightened his grip on his kunai, now sheathed at his side, but the weight of it seemed to dig deeper into his conscience. The fight had been terrifying. Every second felt like a gamble, his life dangling by a thread. A single mistake—a fraction slower, a weaker block—and that kunai could have pierced his heart.
What would have happened then?
His steps faltered for a moment, forcing Shiro to glance back. "You okay?" Shiro asked, his tone lighter than the situation warranted, as if trying to break the tension.
"Yeah," Yuto muttered, managing a nod. "Just tired."
Shiro shrugged and kept walking, but Yuto wasn't okay. Not really. His mind kept circling back to the same haunting question. What happens if I die here?
The first time he'd died, it had been sudden, a flash of pain and then nothing. When he woke in this strange world, he hadn't had time to reflect on his death or what it meant. Honestly, he hadn't cared much. He had no attachments in his old life. No parents to mourn him. No friends to miss him. His death had felt like the final page of a book no one was reading.
But this? This was different.
In this world, he had a mother who doted on him, who ruffled his hair when he trained hard and made his favorite meals when he was tired. A grandmother who teased him about his clumsiness but always had a warm smile waiting. They cared about him in ways no one ever had before.
What would happen to them if he didn't come back one day?
The thought twisted in his chest, sharper than any blade. He pictured his mother, Akari, waiting at the door for him, her smile faltering when she realized he wouldn't return. His grandmother, Haruko, sitting silently, her usual lively chatter replaced by a somber quiet.
The idea of leaving them behind, of hurting them like that, was unbearable.
His gaze shifted to the ground as they walked, and he remembered the tombs he'd seen lining the cemetery near the academy. Each stone marked a life lost—a father, a son, a daughter, a friend. This war consumed people daily, and for many, life seemed to end as abruptly as it began.
Life is so cheap here, Yuto thought, his fists clenching. It scared him how easily lives could be taken, how quickly someone could be forgotten. That shinobi they had killed—what was his story? Did he have people waiting for him too? Was he someone's son, someone's brother?
Yuto shivered, shaking his head. It didn't matter. The world didn't care about fairness or sentiment. If he didn't get stronger, he wouldn't survive.
He glanced at Kiyomi, who walked ahead of them, her posture relaxed despite the fight they'd just endured. She was only fifteen, but she had handled herself like a seasoned warrior, taking down a rogue shinobi with practiced efficiency. Yuto admired her strength but couldn't ignore the reality of the situation. Even with her skills, if their opponents had been stronger, they all could've died today.
I can't rely on others to protect me, he thought. I have to do it myself.
That realization hit him hard. He'd always considered himself average—nothing special, just a cog in the machine. In his previous life, that mindset had been fine. There was no need for ambition when the world didn't demand it. But here, that mentality would get him killed.
I need to get stronger.
It wasn't about power for power's sake. It wasn't about being a hero or seeking recognition. It was about survival. It was about making it back to his mother and grandmother, to the quiet dinners and the warmth of their home.
For the first time in both his lives, Yuto felt a deep sense of purpose. It wasn't grand or world-changing. It was simple: he wanted to live. He wanted to protect the small, precious life he'd built here, no matter what it took.
As they approached the gates of Konoha, Yuto glanced up at the village crest. The sight of it felt heavier now, more meaningful. This was his home, and for the first time, he truly understood what that meant.
Akari and Haruko were waiting for him as they always did. His mother's worried smile melted into relief when she saw him, and she pulled him into a tight hug, ruffling his hair as she always did. "Welcome back," she said, her voice warm.
Yuto hesitated before hugging her back, his grip tighter than usual.
"I'll be stronger," he whispered to himself, the words a quiet promise. "For them. For myself. I'll survive."