The design he had presented and drawn with her was heavily inspired by the Konoha ANBU gear from his world.
The ANBU had left a strong impression on him when they had rescued him from an ambush by a group of shinobi disguised as bandits, attempting to kidnap him.
He didn't know much about the why or the how of that incident, but one thing had stuck with him: the appearance of the ANBU had been so frightening that the enemy genin had fled on the spot, leaving only a handful of chunin to face them.
Even then, the ANBU's reputation hadn't been a fluke—two of them had subdued three chunin with ease.
It wasn't just their skill that had impressed him, though. It was the subtlety and efficiency of their gear.
Chakra-conducting armguards, cushion pads for the knees, a lightweight reinforced mask, a small backpack with a sheath hanging below, and a utility pouch—everything about their equipment had been designed for practicality and stealth.
That was the kind of functionality Eichi wanted, not some flashy, over-the-top hero costume.
Hatsume, however, was having none of it. She paced back and forth, gesturing wildly at the sketch. "You're a hero, not a shadow!
You need to stand out, to inspire people! How are you supposed to do that if you look like... like some kind of assassin ghost? No offense, but this iswaytoo dark and edgy."
Eichi sighed, lifting his head to look at her. "I don't care about standing out. I care about functionality. The mask protects my face, the armguards absorb impact, and the rest of it is lightweight and practical. That's all I need."
Hatsume stopped pacing, planting her hands on her hips and leaning forward to stare him down. "But you're missing the point!
A hero's costume isn't just about functionality—it's aboutidentity. It's how people recognize you, how they remember you! You can't just blend into the shadows and expect to make a difference."
Eichi met her gaze, his expression unchanging. "I'm not here to be remembered. I'm here to get the job done."
Hatsume groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You're impossible, you know that? Fine, fine, I'll work with what you've got. But I'm addingsomecolor. Just a little! And maybe a few extra features. You'll thank me later."
Eichi paused for a moment, his mind flickering back to the heroes he'd seen since arriving in this world. Their costumes were beyond flashy—some were so over-the-top that he questioned their sanity, while others were so revealing that he couldn't fathom how they were practical in combat.
It was all so... unnecessary. But if a little compromise would get Hatsume off his back, he supposed he could tolerate it.
He sighed, reaching out to stop her mid-rant with a grip so firm it made her breath catch in her lungs. "Alright, alright," he said, his tone resigned but firm. "Plaster this on my shoulders. Is that enough?" He presented a drawing, one of a crimson red swirling whirlpool—the Uzumaki clan symbol.
It was a risk, exposing his clan's emblem like this. But if he was going to be forced to identify himself to the world, he would do so as an Uzumaki, even if no one here knew what that meant.
The symbol was more than just a mark—it was a reminder of where he came from, of the strength and resilience of his clan. Even if the world had forgotten them, he wouldn't.
The memory of his brother and himself. They had worn the standard Uzushiogakure uniform, the Uzumaki swirl plastered on their backs.
Though their uniforms had been caked in dirt and filth, the symbol had still been visible in places—a half-red circle here, a faint outline there. Thus, the incident at District 69 wouldn't be traced back to him.
This was also a message, one he intended to send loud and clear.
He was expected to graduate in about three years, and by then, he would have grown strong enough to back up the symbol he wore. Complacency bred weakness, and he had no intention of letting himself grow rusty.
He had already decided long before his first class that he would begin training in earnest once he had gathered enough information about this world and its systems.
Hatsume blinked, her earlier frustration momentarily forgotten as she studied the drawing. "A red swirl, huh? That's... actually kind of cool. Minimalist, but striking. I can work with that." She glanced up at him, her grin returning. "See? Compromise isn't so bad, is it?"
"Your grip, though—wow. You've got some serious strength there. Is that part of your Quirk? Enhanced Strength, right?
I could totally work that into the design. Maybe some reinforced gauntlets or something to help channel that power. Oh, or—"
Eichi cut her off, his tone flat but firm. "Just stick to the design. No extra features."
Hatsume pouted, clearly disappointed, but she didn't argue. "Fine, fine. No extra features. But I'm still adding some utility stuff. You'll thank me later, trust me."
Eichi didn't respond. He didn't care about utility features or flashy additions. All he needed was something functional, something that wouldn't get in his way.
The Uzumaki symbol was the only concession he was willing to make, and even that was more for himself than for anyone else.
Kaina, who had been watching the entire exchange from the doorway, stepped into the room, her smile widening. "See? I told you she'd come around. And that symbol... it's kind of cool. What does it mean, anyway?"
"It's a reminder."
Kaina tilted her head, clearly curious, but when Eichi didn't elaborate, she let it drop. Instead, her eyes drifted back to the design, lingering on the more... unsettling aspects of it.
The dark color scheme, the reinforced mask, and especially the tanto—a short, sleek blade that was prominently featured in the sketch.
"Okay, I get the whole 'mysterious and edgy' vibe you're going for," she said, her tone light but with a hint of unease. "But don't you think the tanto is a little... much? I mean, it's kind of giving off 'shinobi' energy, you know? Not exactly the most heroic look."
Eichi didn't flinch, his expression as neutral as ever. "It's practical."