As the rain softened into mist and I watched Rin and Kakashi walk away together under the dim light of the graveyard path, I quietly turned the other way.
They needed that moment. And for once, I didn't need to be part of it.
I still had time. I'd speak to them tomorrow—after all, what I had to say wasn't urgent. It was just… important.
So instead, I walked through the quiet streets, droplets glistening on tiled rooftops and reflecting off puddles that mirrored the lantern lights. The air was cool, and the peace it carried was deceptive—only a thin layer above the tension rising across the continent.
Eventually, I arrived at Uncle Shikaku's home.
It wasn't that I was avoiding my own house… not exactly. But lately, I'd been told by Nano that if I wanted to recover my emotional sensitivity, I had to feel. To experience warmth, connection. And the fastest way to do that was simple:
Stay close to people who care about you.
Uncle Shikaku was many things—strategist, jonin commander, father, but he was consistent. Grounded. That made his house feel safe.
I knocked once before stepping in. Aunt Yoshino was already setting the table, calling over her shoulder, "Go shower first, Akira. You're dripping on my floors."
"Yes, ma'am," I said with a small smile.
After cleaning up and changing into one of the soft yukata they always kept for me, I joined them at the low dinner table. The smell of simmering miso, grilled mackerel, and seasoned rice filled the air.
We ate together, nothing dramatic, just peaceful bites and clinking chopsticks between short conversations. It was the kind of meal that slowed the world down just enough to feel normal again.
Then, the topic shifted.
Uncle Shikaku leaned back slightly, eyes scanning the window. "The war's heating up. Kumo's been pushing harder."
Yoshino sighed. "And that means...?"
"I might get called next week," he said simply. "Command rotation. Jiraiya-sama's being pulled from the Kumo front to lead at Iwa. Orochimaru will take over Kumo."
I frowned. "Is that just a tactical change or…?"
Shikaku gave a faint nod. "Both. Jiraiya's better at high-intensity operations, but Orochimaru's surgical with strategy. Kumo's guerrilla tactics call for someone who thinks like a scalpel, not a hammer."
It made sense. Orochimaru was dangerous because he was patient and precise.
I leaned forward, picking at my rice with a chopstick. "And what about my father?"
Shikaku glanced at me, then answered without hesitation.
"Yuma's already on the Iwa front," he said. "He's been there for a couple of weeks now, assigned to the intelligence division."
"So he's not in the field?"
"Not directly. He's not participating in the front-line skirmishes; his job's different. Message interception, terrain mapping, and long-range scouting data. But he's still there, and with things escalating, there's a chance he'll be pulled closer to the action if they need more senior-level operatives forward."
I nodded quietly, absorbing that.
So he was in the war. Just not on the battlefield. Not yet.
But it wouldn't stay that way for long.
I nodded slowly.
In my mind, timelines rearranged. I already knew the war would end in about six months. Minato would decimate a thousand Iwa shinobi and earn his title. Fugaku would lead a flanking strike at the Kumo front, using Orochimaru's chaos as cover. Kiri would suffer massive losses after Might Dai, yes, Dai, not Gai....used the Eight Gates to wipe out four of their Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
Six months. Then peace.And soon after... Minato becomes Hokage.
I had maybe two years before Naruto was born. And likely a year before Sasuke.
From now to the next three years, one by one, the future generation would start arriving: Tenten, Shino, Kiba, Lee, Shikamaru… ending with the youngest, Hinata.
It was strange. Knowing all of it. And stranger still, living before all of it.
"Stop thinking so hard," Aunt Yoshino said, elbowing me gently. "Your rice is getting cold."
I gave a faint smirk and refocused on my food. "Yes, ma'am."
Later that night, the rain had stopped completely. We gathered in the living room, the air carrying the earthy scent of wet soil through the open shoji window. Uncle Shikaku brought out the shogi board, setting the pieces up with a familiar ease.
"Come on," he said, casting a sharp but amused glance my way. "Let's see how much you've been slacking off."
I took my seat across from him, hands calm, eyes scanning the board as he made the first move.
I didn't say anything. Didn't joke. Didn't warn him. I just played.
Piece by piece, I leaned into the rhythm of the game. No Nano. No calculations are running in the background. I'd trained myself to read the board without aid, and tonight, I wanted to trust my mind.
Yoshino sat nearby, sipping tea, eyeing us both with a half-smile.
"You two look more serious playing shogi than most jonin do in combat," she said dryly. "Honestly, Akira, you need to learn to relax. Play with kids your age. Do something normal. Go be a little idiot before life turns you into a big one."
"I'm perfectly relaxed," I said without looking up. "I'm just making sure your husband doesn't walk into a trap."
Shikaku smirked faintly. "Bold words for someone down two generals."
I didn't reply. Just moved my rook.
Inwardly, I let the moment settle.
There was comfort in this. Playing a game forced me to focus, but still let me feel. No analysis enhancement. No tactical overlay.
The game was in full swing now. Pieces clicked softly against polished wood as the room fell into a contemplative quiet, save for the occasional sip of tea or shuffle of clothing.
Uncle Shikaku's brow was slightly furrowed, not in stress, but in thought. He played like a man mapping out ten possibilities with every piece.
I watched his formation. He had the chance. One of his generals was lined up, ready to take out my key officer. I braced for it, already thinking two turns ahead for the counter.
But then... he didn't.
Instead, he moved a soldier. Just a basic pawn. Seemingly unimportant.
A small, strange play.
I narrowed my eyes. Why not the general?
Two moves later, I realized the trap. That low-ranking piece, disguised as irrelevant, collapsed my entire flank. Before I could realign, he swept the board with a crushing edge.
I stared at it for a second in disbelief, then slowly leaned back, arms crossed.
"That... was unexpected," I admitted.
Shikaku smiled faintly, rubbing his chin. "That's the point."
"You had the perfect shot with the general. Why use a soldier?"
He sipped his tea slowly before answering. "Because the moment I moved, the general, you would've seen it coming. You were waiting for it. You'd prepared a counter."
"So you baited me."
"Exactly." He nodded. "Here's the lesson, Akira: if you have something important to accomplish, but don't want to reveal your strategy, make the other person do it for you. Why expose yourself, your methods, your hand... when you can manipulate the board to move in your favor without touching it directly?"
I blinked, then looked back at the board, seeing the layers now that weren't visible during the game.
He didn't just beat me. He rewrote the board's priorities while making me think I had control.
"You weren't playing shogi," I muttered. "You were playing me."
Shikaku shrugged. "That's strategy."
Yoshino snorted from her corner. "And this is why I can't beat either of you. You're too busy playing mind games while I'm just trying to win."
He smiled, relaxed now that the lesson had landed. I, meanwhile, sat quietly, mentally unpacking every move and outcome, every implication.
This wasn't just about shogi.
It was about war. Politics. Human behavior.
And it was something I could use.
Something I would use.
After the shogi match, I retreated to the guest room at Uncle Shikaku's house...my usual crash spot whenever I stayed over. It wasn't officially mine, but by now, everyone accepted that I'd made it my own. Clean futon. Spare clothes are folded in the corner. A scroll rack I never used.
As I lay down, sleep tugging at me, my mind drifted back to Shikaku's lesson.
"If you want to do something important, something risky, but don't want to draw suspicion, then make someone else do it for you. Why expose your strategy when the board can be manipulated to play itself?"
I replayed his words over and over, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
It made sense. It made too much sense.
If I applied the seal on Rin directly, if I saved her life using something this advanced, Minato would notice. And once he examined it, he would connect the dots. Who could've placed a seal this intricate, this timely? Someone with knowledge of the Adamantine Chains. Someone who knew what was coming.
Someone suspicious.
Minato might smile, might act kind, but I know who he is underneath. A man raised in war. A shinobi first. If he believed, even for a second, that I was a threat to Konoha's future...
He wouldn't hesitate.
So I had to do it indirectly. I couldn't erase suspicion, but I could reduce it. Make it feel like a coincidence. Like… a miracle.
I'd plant the idea early. Make it seem like a theory. A concept. Then, when Rin was sealed, the dots wouldn't lead back to a Manipulator; they'd lead to a prodigy.
I smirked faintly in the dark.
It was a long shot. But it would work.
I'll do it tomorrow, I thought, finally closing my eyes. I'm too tired to calculate the rest.
Morning came fast.
I woke up early, washed up, and sat at the table with Aunt Yoshino and Uncle Shikaku for breakfast. It was the usual spread—grilled fish, rice, miso, pickles. Grounding.
Even though Uncle Shikaku was a Nara, famous for his laziness, he still got up early. I swear, every single morning after stretching, he mumbled the same thing:
"What a drag… "
Every. Single. Morning.
Now I understand exactly where Shikamaru got his catchphrases.
After finishing up and thanking them both, I said my goodbyes and made my way through the village. Today was supposed to be a break, a picnic, something to celebrate the end of our month-long training camp.
But before that, I had something to plant.
I arrived at Minato-sensei's house just after breakfast. He answered the door, freshly dressed, tea still steaming in his cup.
Kushina-sensei was, predictably, still dead to the world, wrapped in three blankets and sprawled across the futon like a hibernating bear. Not a morning person.
"Good morning, Akira," Minato said with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Sensei," I replied, and then went straight to business. "I made something. A seal. I'd like you to take a look."
I handed him a scroll.
As he unrolled it, his expression shifted from curious to… quiet awe.
I didn't wait for him to ask, I launched into the explanation. "So, I studied the Four Element Seal and the Adamantine Chains. Kushina-sensei let me see it once. I realized that most jinchūriki seals treat the host as a container. That puts a massive burden on the body. You need insane life force, like a Senju or an Uzumaki, or the host slowly degrades under the weight."
Minato's eyes flicked up, surprised at my clarity.
"But what if instead of using the person as the vessel, we made them the interface? A bridge. A medium that connects the beast to an external chakra container where the tailed beast is fully sealed. The host doesn't hold the beast, they link to it."
I tapped the diagram. "That removes mental corruption, chakra corrosion, and lets the person access sections of chakra safely over time, purifying each segment with Adamantine suppression."
Minato stared at the scroll like it was something out of a forbidden library.
"I couldn't perfect the whole model," I admitted. "So I made a prototype. Right now, it just isolates the beast completely. Full suppression. No access. Think of it as a safe-mode seal."
He was silent for a long time.
Then, slowly, he looked up.
"…Akira. This is… this is brilliant," he said, voice a mix of awe and admiration. "Even Kushina—no, even Mito-sama didn't conceptualize something like this. This could change everything about how jinchūriki are handled."
I gave a small shrug and said what I had prepared in advance:
"Well, I got the idea while helping Uncle Inoichi take out the trash."
Minato blinked. "What?"
"Yeah. He had a lot of it piled up, dragging all these bags out by hand, and I said, 'Why not just seal them and drop the scroll by the bin?'"
I forced a sheepish grin. "That's when it hit me. We've been doing it backward with the tailed beasts. We're hauling the weight when we could just externalize it."
(Author's Note: Yeah, it's dumb. But sometimes dumb logic hides brilliant ideas. I needed this to sound like a lucky breakthrough, not a divine prediction.)
Minato let out a laugh, but there was something thoughtful behind his eyes.
"Even with a silly origin story… this seal is a breakthrough. Akira, if Kushina weren't already sealed, I would've used this. It's efficient, safe, and flexible. With this, anyone could become a jinchūriki."
He rolled up the scroll carefully.
"You've done something amazing."
I gave a small nod, smiling just enough to play the part.
After explaining the Cloud Domain Seal and watching Minato-sensei absorb its potential with wide eyes and quiet astonishment, I reached into my scroll case again.
"Minato-sensei," I said, unsealing another carefully inscribed tag, "I have one more thing."
He raised a brow, already intrigued.
"I've been studying your Hiraishin no Jutsu. And… I realized something. Kakashi and Rin will eventually take missions without you. Kakashi's already a jonin, and Rin won't always be in your direct squad. What happens if they're in danger and can't reach one of your marked kunai?"
Minato set the tea aside, leaning forward slightly.
"So I created a modification."
I placed the second seal down in front of him. The markings were different, denser in the center, with flow lines branching outward like roots from a core.
"This is a body-anchored recall seal. If you implant it directly on someone, it becomes part of their chakra network. If they ever need you, they can channel chakra into it, and you'll be summoned directly to them, no need for weapons or landmarks. It can't be removed unless they choose to remove it."
For a moment, Minato didn't speak.
He just stared at the seal, then at me, and finally smiled with quiet pride.
"You've improved my jutsu," he said, composed but moved. "I've been thinking about something similar… even wanted to experiment with switching places with someone remotely if I marked them. But I never made a breakthrough."
He looked back down at the seal. "And you created this… after seeing the jutsu once?"
I grinned. "Come on, Sensei. I am the genius of the Nara and Yamanaka clans, remember?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're too self-aware for a four-year-old."
Then, my tone shifted, softer, genuine.
"I think you should plant the seal on both Kakashi and Rin," I said. "Even though they're strong... anything can happen. This way, if something goes wrong, you can be there instantly."
Minato knelt in front of me, lowering himself to my eye level. His face softened, not as a leader, but as someone who saw me for exactly who I was.
"Akira… you're kind," he said quietly. "Don't lose that. Not even in this world. It'll try to crush that part of you, but kindness is a strength, an anchor. There will always be people worth protecting, people who'll remind you why you keep going."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you. For this. For everything."
I shrugged with a sheepish smirk. "Jeez, Sensei… that's way too cheesy. Is that how you made Kushina-sensei fall for you?"
He laughed, open and honest, this time. "Might be."
Later That Morning
The village was bright with the golden hue of midmorning sun when we all gathered for our final outing, a simple picnic.
Kakashi, Rin, Itachi, and I met just outside the training fields, baskets packed, blankets rolled. No kunai. No scrolls. Just laughter and food.
We played stupid games. Told half-serious war stories. Kakashi even let himself smile, really smile. Rin looked more at peace than I'd seen her in weeks. Itachi didn't say much, but he sat close, his silence comforting instead of cold.
And me?
I laughed with them. I let myself laugh.
But deep down, I knew this was the calm before the storm.
If everything went to plan, if the seal held, if Minato arrived in time, if Obito didn't break—I might be able to stop the darkness from swallowing him whole.
Maybe. Just maybe.
But wishing wasn't enough. Planning wasn't enough.Tomorrow, everything would start.
The next day,
Dawn came early, the light gray and silver over the rooftops.
Itachi, Kushina-sensei, and I stood outside Minato-sensei's house. The air smelled like wet stone and morning dew.
Kakashi and Rin were already geared up, standing beside Minato, who looked ready but weary. The Hokage's orders had come through. This was it.
Most likely, this was the mission. The one from Kirigakure.
I stepped forward, glancing briefly at Rin. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled, just faintly. That was enough.
"Did you tell them?" I asked Minato quietly.
He nodded. "Yes. I told them about the seals, and I've already placed them. They know what they're for."
"Good." I handed him another scroll. "Here's a full copy of the Cloud Domain Seal, just in case. You can, you know… study it."
He raised a brow knowingly but didn't say anything else. Just gave me a small, approving nod.
Then came the goodbyes.
They were quick. Terse. Konoha shinobi didn't linger before a mission.
But I felt something in each word exchanged.
When they disappeared over the trees, I stared at the sky a while longer.
Itachi and I returned with Kushina-sensei to her house. We didn't waste time.
I spread out the scrolls. Explained the structure. Pointed to the binding points and chakra anchors.
Kushina studied it with wide eyes. "This… this is incredible."
Together, the three of us began working—refining the seal, improving the stabilizers, and reinforcing the suppression layers. Making it not just usable, but perfect.
Because the war wasn't over.
And tomorrow wasn't guaranteed.
But we'd give them the best chance we could.
"""
Chapter Length-3000 words
(A/n):- From next chapter Kakashi RIn and Minato's POV will be shown as this is very important in the story.
"""