Chương 65: Shin and Sōen

That afternoon, after school, Shin had nothing to do, so he went out to the Inuzuka yard to practice his sword forms. Kiba sat on the porch with Akamaru, watching Shin swing through his drills with what appeared to be genuine interest. After about half an hour, Shin lowered the blade and wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

"Done?" Kiba called. Shin nodded. He went inside to wash up, then came back out with his katana, ready to leave.

"Hana-nee." He called toward the inner room.

"I'm heading out."

"Where are you going?" Kiba asked, eyebrows up. Hana appeared from the back, looking at Shin—sword in arms, shoes on, moving toward the door.

"You're...?"

"Picking up some camellia blade oil." He finished lacing his shoes and stepped outside. Hana nodded behind him and said nothing, then turned back inside. Kiba wanted to come. He really did. But he still had secret technique training to get through. He watched the gate close.

"Hah." He breathed out and reached over to scratch Akamaru behind the ears. …… Shin walked through the streets with his katana held crosswise in both arms—no choice, the blade was just too long, and he was about as tall as Naruto. Konoha's evening market was as lively as ever. He was in no rush. He drifted down the street and watched the stalls come and go. The village was quiet under the night sky in the way it always was—vendors calling, neighbors stopping to talk, lanterns warm and yellow at every corner.

Some people recognized him and waved. The village wasn't big enough for strangers to stay strangers long.

"Kakashi! Let's settle it with rock-paper-scissors—a match to get the blood pumping!"

"No."

"A handstand lap around the village, then!"

"No."

"Then—""No." Coming the other way: Kakashi Hatake, black casual clothes, hands in pockets. Beside him, the thick-browed shinobi in the strange green jumpsuit. Shin had crossed paths with him before, same as Kakashi.

"Kakashi-san." Shin stepped to one side and bowed. Both men stopped. Kakashi looked at him.

"Hello." A nod.

"You're headed...?" His gaze dropped to the katana in Shin's arms.

"Picking up some camellia blade oil." Kakashi nodded. He carried a blade himself. Beside him, Guy leaned toward Kakashi's ear.

"What's camellia blade oil?" Kakashi didn't answer. The question apparently didn't rate one.

"I'll be going, Kakashi-san." Shin bowed again and walked on, the katana held low. Kakashi watched the small figure head down the street. A complicated look crossed his face. Half the jonin in the village were in an uproar over this child. And the child seemed to have no idea.

"Who is that kid?" Guy asked.

"... Shin Takami." Kakashi's voice was flat. He started walking again. So that's Shin Takami... Guy looked in the direction Shin had gone.

"Hey, Kakashi, wait up!" ———— Shin wound through several intersections before he found the shop—a small blade store run by a man in his fifties.

"Welcome, welcome." The shopkeeper smiled as Shin walked in, his eyes settling briefly on the katana in Shin's arms.

"Looking to buy, or to commission something?" You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. One glance at the quality of the grip, and his tone brightened considerably.

"I need some camellia blade oil."

"Of course. Just a moment." The shopkeeper beamed and turned to search the back counter. Shin looked around. The walls were hung with blades of all kinds—mostly kodachi, the standard short swords he saw all over Konoha, with some katana and tachi scattered among them. A glass case nearby held a row of shorter blades. Wakizashi, mostly. Something stopped him.

He walked to the case and picked up a piece that sat apart from the others—shorter than a typical wakizashi, barely forty centimeters long, almost weightless in his hand. Two small characters were carved into the wooden scabbard. Seinei. It was a kaiken. A kaiken wasn't made for fighting. It was made for seppuku. Shin stood there looking at it. …

"It's called Seinei. I'm giving it to you."

"Seinei..."

"Yes. I used it to remind myself of what mattered. Nothing special—I had it made at a roadside forge when I was young, just a rough piece of work. It's only been with me a long time, that's all."

"... Thank you, Lord Fujino." …

"Here you are." The shopkeeper came back from the counter and held out a small bottle. Shin set the kaiken down and crossed the room to take it.

"You liked that one?" the shopkeeper asked, with an odd little grin. Shin smiled and didn't answer. He paid and turned for the door. A figure stepped through the doorway.

"Shopkeeper, is my order ready?" She looked two or three years older than Shin. Light-colored, fitted clothes. A long, thin ponytail swayed at the back of her head. He didn't get a good look at her face, but something about her felt familiar.

"Ah, Sōen." The shopkeeper's face warmed.

"Almost done—just needs the engraving." Sōen Kuriyama leaned on the counter, chin propped on her folded arms.

"What do you want engraved?" the shopkeeper asked. She laughed. The kind of laugh that put people at ease—but the shopkeeper wasn't moved by it. He knew what kind of person this girl was.

"Seinei." She held up one finger. Shin hadn't moved. He stood in the doorway, watching her back, a feeling he couldn't name pressing in from all sides.

"What a coincidence—I've got a kaiken in stock by that name," the shopkeeper said, laughing.

"You're cursing me." Sōen's smile disappeared.

"That's not funny."

"I'm not making it up. That customer was just looking at it, actually." The shopkeeper nodded toward Shin, his old face creased with amusement. Sōen turned around. Shin was staring at her. His eyes weren't quite focused. What is this kid's problem. She walked over, stopped right in front of him, and waited. He kept staring. Her own reflection sat clear in his dark eyes.

"Hey." She waved a hand in front of his face.

"You in there?"

"... I'm Shin." She blinked.

"What?"

"I'm Shin! I'm Shin!" Before she could make sense of it, both his arms were around her. One thought arrived in her head, very clear. This kid is grabbing me. I've been grabbed. She shoved him back with both hands and slapped him across the face—a sharp crack, a bright handprint left on his cheek. Is this what 'cute and harmless' looks like these days? She shook her head. The boy stood there with the print still blazing on his cheek, still looking at her. Some of the fog seemed to have cleared.

"You little—who taught you to grab at girls?" She pressed her knuckles against his head, not gently.

"... Yuko." He was staring at her face, murmuring the name like it came from somewhere far off. Up close, she did resemble someone—five or six out of ten, maybe. And the personality was completely different. Sōen lost interest. She turned and went back inside.

"Made a little boyfriend?" the shopkeeper asked, cheerful.

"Blade oil." She rolled her eyes and held out her hand. The shopkeeper produced a small bottle—same as the one he'd just sold Shin—and set it in her palm. She turned for the door.

"You haven't paid," he called after her.

"Next time." She waved him off, glanced at Shin on her way out, and walked into the evening market without slowing down....

"Are you going to keep following me?" At a corner several streets away, Sōen finally turned around. The street here was quieter. She looked at Shin with thinning patience. He'd trailed her through half the market without a word.

"See this?" She tapped her forehead protector.

"Go home before something happens to you." Shin stood where he was, katana held crosswise, eyes on her. A long pause.

"What's your name?" he asked. Sōen's expression shifted. She looked at his position—then moved. From ten foots away to right in front of him, the gap closed in a blink. Her right fist drove straight for his face. It stopped two inches from his eyes. He hadn't flinched. Hadn't moved at all. He just looked at her fist.

"Tch." She dropped her hand and stood in front of him, looking at the kid who barely came up to her shoulder.

"Kuriyama Sōen," she said, with a short exhale.

"Stop following me." She turned and walked. A few steps, then she glanced back. He was still standing there.

"Weirdo." She shook her head, turned the corner, and disappeared into the dark. Kuriyama Sōen... He stood there looking at the place she'd gone. Not Yuko. Just a little alike, that's all. And the personality is completely different... The doubt didn't leave him. He crouched down slowly on the street, one hand pressed over his face. Passersby looked at him—a small boy crouching in the street with his hand over his eyes. A kind stranger stopped and asked if he was all right. Shin managed a smile and said he was fine.

He stayed like that for a while. Then he straightened up and walked home.... On a nearby rooftop, Sōen stood looking after him, expression unreadable.

"I didn't actually hit him, did I...?" She raised her hand and stared at it. The way he'd crouched there afterward had her second-guessing herself.

"His own fault anyway," she added, and felt a little better. She let out a breath and vanished from the rooftop.... When Shin got back to the Inuzuka house, dinner was waiting. He apologized for being late and washed his hands and sat down. During the meal, both Hana and Kiba noticed the handprint still bright on his cheek. They asked about it. He waved them off and changed the subject. The next day, he walked to school with Kiba as usual.

In class he sat through the lessons with less of himself than usual—his mind kept circling back to Kuriyama Sōen. It was only now that it occurred to him: his mother's maiden name had been Kuriyama too. The surname was rare in Konoha. If Sōen was also a Kuriyama, then maybe she and his mother were connected—maybe she and he were connected. He could find her and ask. He gave himself that reason. But the want underneath it was older and simpler: just to see that face again.

The face he had missed for more nights than he could count.