I was sitting on the floor of my room, surrounded by scrolls and notes about jutsu and seals. I kept thinking about all the training I'd been through. Every hand sign, every breath, every minute of practice brought me closer to perfection—but it still didn't feel like enough. The weight of the Mangekyou Sharingan's responsibility pressed down on my chest, but I refused to give in.
"Izuna, dinner's ready!" My mom's voice broke through the silence of my room.
I put down my papers and stood up, feeling the warmth of home fill me up. The table was simple, but the smells of soup, rice, and fresh vegetables pulled me in.
Mom looked at me with pride shining in her eyes. "You're getting better every day, Izuna. Your dad and I are so proud of you. I know it's not easy, but your strength and determination inspire us."
I just nodded, feeling some of the pressure in my chest ease in this safe little corner of the world. "Thanks, Mom. I'm trying. I won't let you down."
As we ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and hopes for the future — a future I'm determined to build with strength, wisdom, and heart.
The next morning, I woke up with that same restless feeling burning in my chest. No matter how much I trained, there was always more to do, more to learn, more to master. I could feel the weight of my goals pushing me forward.
I grabbed my gear and made my way to the training grounds. Shisui was already there, warming up with quick hand signs and light footwork. He looked up when he saw me and grinned like he'd been waiting all morning.
"Ready for today's lesson?" I called out, rolling my shoulders to loosen them up.
Shisui laughed, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Yes Izuna-san."
We went at it for hours — practicing taijutsu combinations, throwing kunai at moving targets, and testing new chakra control exercises I'd come up with. Every strike, every dodge, every shout of effort felt like another brick laid on the path I was building for myself.
After a while, I felt someone's eyes on us. I turned my head and spotted a small shadow hiding behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. Itachi was tiny, wide-eyed, and trying so hard not to be noticed.
I nudged Shisui with my elbow. He followed my gaze and smirked. "Looks like we have an audience."
I waved Itachi over. He peeked out shyly but didn't move.
"Itachi, watching from there won't teach you much."
Slowly, he stepped out, tiny feet crunching over the leaves. He stopped a few steps away, eyes glued to the kunai in my hand.
"Do you want to try?" I asked
Itachi hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet. I just wanted to see how you train, Izuna-san."
Shisui laughed and ruffled his hair. "Better watch carefully, then. Just don't try to copy our warm-up, you might faint halfway through."
Itachi pouted at that, crossing his arms. I couldn't help but chuckle. He was so small.
When the sun began to set, Shisui and I wrapped up the training. I looked at Itachi one last time and told him, "When you're ready, come train with us. But for now… just be a kid a little longer."
He nodded, though I could tell he didn't agree.
I sat alone on the back porch of our house that night, my elbows resting on my knees, my head lost in a storm of memories I didn't want to remember. The night was quiet, too quiet for a shinobi's mind. Crickets chirped softly in the garden.
In my hand, I spun a kunai just to keep my fingers busy. But my mind was far away. It went back to that one moment I couldn't forget. The first kill.
I was only six. It wasn't even supposed to happen. A simple patrol mission turned into an ambush by rogue shinobi. My friend lost his hand, and I can still see his eyes. The screaming. The smell of blood. And then, it was just me and a kunai pressed to the enemy's throat, my hands shaking like twigs in a storm.
I remember the feeling when the blade slipped. They tell you it gets easier, maybe for some. But that first time, it stains you. Part of you goes with them.
Then, father came.
I didn't notice when he came out. I just heard the quiet steps on the old wood.
"It's late, Izuna."
I didn't turn. I was sitting alone outside, looking at my kunai. I was thinking about my first kill, his face still clear in my mind. I hated that.
Father came closer and sat next to me. We both looked at the garden. It was quiet.
"You're thinking about him again?"
"Yeah," I said. My voice was low. "I can't forget."
My father nodded. "Good. It means you're still you. Never forget, Izuna. If you do, you lose yourself."
I didn't say anything. He put his hand on my head. I felt small again, but safe.
"You've done so much for your age. I'm proud," he said.
"Thank you, father."