Shinobi walked with clipped precision, civilians smiled just enough, and the wind blew with practiced ease. But to those who listened carefully — to those who lived in silence — the cracks beneath the village echoed louder than ever.
Akari Kurokaze stood atop a quiet rooftop near the eastern edge, black kimono loose around his chest, long hair brushing his jaw. His violet eyes scanned the horizon, not for enemies — but for signals. Shifts in chakra. Breaks in rhythm. Disruptions in harmony.
Then came the order.
A masked ANBU appeared without a word, handing him a sealed scroll bearing Tobirama Senju's insignia.
The message was brief:
> "Unmarked chakra activity reported near the eastern training grounds. Intervene only if necessary. Avoid Uchiha contact."
No signature. No detail. But the intent was clear. They feared movement in the shadows. They feared the Uchiha. Again.
---
The eastern forest was still. Too still.
Akari moved like a whisper. He didn't leap through branches — he dissolved into them. The way his clan taught him. The way his father once did.
Soon, he found it: a clearing ringed with old stone markers and shattered wooden dummies — a training ground long abandoned.
And there, standing alone beneath the moonlight, was Raien Uchiha.
Fifteen at most, wrapped in a dark high-collared tunic, black hair tied loosely. His eyes glowed faintly red — not activated, but close. Alert. Listening.
Akari didn't hide. This time, he stepped into view.
Raien turned before a single twig snapped. "You're not very subtle tonight."
Akari met his gaze calmly. "I wasn't trying to be."
Raien smirked faintly. "So? Watching me again? On orders?"
"No. This time, I came for answers."
The two stared at each other — not enemies, not allies. Something in between.
Two shadows cast from different fires.
"Do you believe in the peace they built?" Raien asked suddenly.
Akari didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped forward.
"I believe in balance," he said. "But balance doesn't mean silence."
Raien looked away. "They think our clan is fire waiting to spread."
Akari's voice softened. "And maybe they're right. But not every spark becomes a blaze."
Raien looked up at him, surprised by the honesty.
Then: "They'll never trust us."
"They don't have to," Akari replied. "But they will fear what happens if we fall apart."
For a moment, it was quiet. Not tense — just… suspended.
Like something old holding its breath.
---
And then, the wind shifted.
Akari's body stiffened as something passed through him — not physical, but memory. A scent: ash. A taste: copper. A feeling: small hands holding a kunai too large.
The trees faded.
---
FLASHBACK – Years Ago
He was ten. The battlefield was soaked in silence.
Smoke curled across the field where bodies lay forgotten.
Akari ran — feet bare, lungs burning — calling for a voice he couldn't lose.
"Father?"
A cough answered. Then — "Here."
Renjiro Kurokaze knelt in the mist, bleeding but still, cradling a fallen enemy.
"Don't look at their eyes," he told his son. "Just listen."
Akari strained. He heard… nothing.
"No wind," Renjiro said, weaker now. "That's when the shadow comes."
He reached forward, gripped Akari's hand, and whispered a word.
"Yami."
The first part of the clan's secret art.
Then came the second:
"Doku."
And with it, the smoke.
A thick, silent mist rolled from his father's lungs, coating the battlefield in darkness. The enemy shinobi never screamed. Only vanished.
Later that night, Renjiro whispered:
> "This technique will make you invisible. But not innocent."
"Use it when there's no other way. Not before. Never before."
Akari nodded through tears.
A week later, he watched them bury his father — not with honor, but in silence.
The village had no place for weapons it feared.
---
Back to Present
The air was sharp again. Real. Cold.
Akari exhaled and turned back to Raien.
"I'll keep watching," he said.
Raien's voice was quiet now. "Then watch carefully. Not all of us want war."
Akari vanished into the trees. This time, not to escape.
But to remember w