Ryosuke leaned back on his futon, eyes trailing the cracks in the ceiling as the midday sun filtered in. It had been a quiet day, but not without significance.
Today's the day.
He rose, slipped into his sandals, and draped a light cloak over his shoulders. The streets of Konoha were alive with the usual buzz—vendors calling out, shinobi moving between missions, the laughter of academy kids echoing through the alleyways.
The bookstore was nestled between a tea shop and a tailor's, just as he remembered. Inside, it was calm, dust motes dancing in the sunlight as quiet music played from a small radio. No one was crowding the new releases. His book—Of Mice and Men—sat quietly on the middle shelf, unremarkable among the flashier covers and bright calligraphy.
He picked up a copy and turned through it slowly—not out of pride, just curiosity.
Then—thump.
He bumped into someone just as he stepped back.
"Ah— Ryosuke! sorry," came a calm voice.
Ryosuke looked up to see Inoichi Yamanaka, maybe a couple years older, blond hair tied loosely back, a distant but thoughtful look in his eyes, he had met him a few days ago when he had just arrived to Konoha, a nice man but he always kept his distance. Inoichi glanced down at the book in Ryosuke's hands.
"Ah, here to read too?" he asked, nodding toward it. "I was just looking for something to kill time. Everything else is either dry as sand or meant for kids."
Ryosuke hesitated for a moment, then handed him the copy. "It's… a bit different. Not flashy. Just a story."
Inoichi took it, flipping to the first page with idle curiosity,chuckling,"Well, I'll read anything right now."
Ryosuke gave a faint smile. "Let me know if it's any good."
Inoichi gave a low hum of interest and wandered off, already absorbed in the pages. Ryosuke watched for a moment, something flickering behind his eyes.
He stepped out of the shop, the quiet street greeting him once again.
'One reader at a time', he thought.
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The wind rustled gently through the trees as Ryousuke stood alone at the outskirts of Konoha, far from the noise of the village. His fingers formed seals with practiced familiarity, but the chakra refused to mold the way he needed it to. His breath was ragged, frustration growing as the jutsu slipped through his control again.
It wasn't a flashy technique—just a refinement of a chakra suppression method he'd read about in his Uzumaki scrolls. Something that could help him move without notice, help him vanish when he wanted the world to forget him.
"Again," he muttered, pushing his chakra out and guiding it through the sequence.
It faltered.
He collapsed to his knees, sweat dripping down his forehead, hands clenched into fists. "Man- huff....huff I really don't have any talent for this."
Ding.
> [System Alert]
Emotional Resonance Detected: Frustration tempered by resolve.
Empathy +1
You have gained: Silent Pulse (Lv.1) — A passive chakra-suppression aura that slightly muffles your presence to sensors and suppresses your emotional signature.
Ryosuke blinked, stunned.
"...That was handy.."
He sat back against the bark of a nearby tree, staring at the sky as his breathing slowly returned to normal. The system didn't just respond to pain or joy—it reacted to the little moments too. Moments where he tried, failed, but still chose to move forward.
He looked at his hands, chakra softly pulsing beneath his skin.
"This luck is something else, am I the chosen one?, Na, there's no way.."
For some reason, he shuddered at the thought.
-------------------
Meanwhile,
Inoichi turned the page, he had only picked up the small paperback on a whim, curious about the new release. The name on the cover—foreign, anonymous—had intrigued him.
> "A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green."
He almost put the book down at first. The names were a little weird, the writing and dialogue wasn't exactly similar to things he had seen before and the slow, simple words didn't seem like much. But a few pages in, he began to see it—it wasn't about grandeur or shinobi bravado. It was about the ordinary, and somehow, that made it more honest.
> "Lennie!" he said sharply. "Lennie, for God' sakes don't drink so much."
Inoichi raised an eyebrow. 'Troublesome, The kind of person who doesn't understand this world.
No chakra. No missions. Just two men trying to survive in a world that doesn't care.'
He kept reading.
> "We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us."
That line made him pause and his eyes slightly sparkle.
'The Will of Fire.... this is what it really looks like, when those bonds are the only thing keeping you going.'
He thought of the refugees. The ones who didn't come from clans. The ones who weren't born behind the village walls. He remembered the haunted eyes of the survivors.
Later, as Lennie talked about the dream—the little farm, the rabbits—Inoichi felt a faint ache in his chest.
It was very naive, a bit heart touching, he had already connected a bit with these book characters.
Then came Curley's wife. Inoichi leaned in slightly, reading more carefully.
When Lennie killed her, Inoichi exhaled quietly through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck.
'That's how quick it is. One mistake. One misunderstanding and it changes life trajectories.'
And then came the end. That slow, quiet scene by the river. George's hand trembling, Knife in hand. Lennie looking out at something that was never real.
> "Tell me about the rabbits, George."
Inoichi didn't move for a while after closing the last page.
So that's it, huh? No glory. No last stand. Just mercy.
He stared down at the book in his hands.
This wasn't written by someone trying to impress anyone. This was written by someone who's seen what it means to lose. To survive loss.
And for the first time since picking up the book, Inoichi wondered about the author.
'Not a clan heir. Not a scholar. But someone who's lived it. Someone who's probably closer to those two men than anyone in this village would ever know.'
His mind instinctively went to the red head he saw at the bookstore.