Hisaro Kasuya!
A deceptively peaceful day settled over Konohagakure. The azure sky, dotted with a few wispy clouds, held no hint of rain. Yet, for the students within the Academy classroom, the serene vista was merely a distraction from the mounting anticipation.
A low hum of conversation filled the room, fueled by Iruka-Sensei's continued absence. Speculation ran rampant, with theories ranging from a last-minute mission assignment to a simple case of oversleeping.
Choji, after cautiously scanning the room to ensure Iruka-Sensei wasn't about to appear, seized the opportunity to crack open a bag of chips. The gentle rustling and soft crunching punctuated the murmur of student chatter.
Beside him, Kiba sat with Akamaru snugly nestled within his jumper. The ninken poked out its head playfully, its gaze fixed on Choji's chips. A small puddle of drool formed at the corner of its mouth.
In the corner, Shino remained silent, his high-collared jacket and dark glasses offering no glimpse into his thoughts. A slight tilt of his head suggested his focus was directed toward the small beetles crawling in his hand.
Sasuke, characteristically aloof, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the cerulean sky beyond the windows, seemingly oblivious to the low hum of classroom buzz. Unseen by him, Sakura and Ino, both harboring secret crushes, watched him intently, the subtle scent of their floral perfumes mingling in the air, a silent testament to their rivalry.
Hisaro Kasuya, however, had other things on her mind. Iruka-Sensei’s continued absence, coupled with the cool, smooth wood of the empty seat beside her, pointed to one likely culprit: her best friend, Naruto. She had a strong suspicion he was somehow behind the delay.
Meanwhile, Hinata’s gaze flitted nervously between Naruto’s empty seat and Hisaro herself, a faint blush warming her cheeks. Her admiration for both was an open secret among their classmates, though Hisaro remained blissfully unaware.
With a soft sigh, Hisaro pulled a parchment scroll from the sleeve of her long, forest-green shirt. It was last-minute homework. She unfurled it on her desk, and the dry rustle of the paper counterpointed the classroom chatter. Her blue eyes scanned the remaining fractions. The lingering ache in her muscles reminded her that training had consumed her the previous night, leaving little time for schoolwork.
Thanks to a rushed morning—her father, a Jonin renowned for his punctuality, had also overslept, not a rare occurrence, which had thrown their morning routine into chaos—Hisaro found herself without a writing utensil. While the man who raised her wasn't her biological father, a fact she was well aware of, her true parents had abandoned her as a toddler after betraying Konoha, leaving her in the care of one of the very friends they had wronged.
The weight of their betrayal, a story whispered throughout the village, often felt heavy on her young shoulders.
She frequently endured the village adults' cold stares and disapproving glances, constantly reminding her of her parent's actions. This unspoken judgment fostered an understanding with Naruto, who had faced similar, if not harsher, ostracism for far longer.
Although she couldn't fathom the true reason for the animosity directed at him, she was grateful that the classroom, at least, offered a temporary sanctuary from those judging eyes.
Inside, surrounded by her peers, she could almost forget the whispers that followed her outside the Academy walls.
Chewing her lip thoughtfully, her blue eyes scanned the room, searching for someone to ask for a writing utensil. Her gaze passed over Sakura and Ino, locked in their silent competition for Sasuke's attention, then over Choji, whose main focus was his food. Finally, her gaze settled on Shikamaru, slumped in his seat, his head resting on his desk.
She mused that he'd likely give her one without much fuss, as he didn't seem to care much about such trivial matters. Plus, he looked like he’d rather be asleep than participate in the pre-lesson buzz, and a quick request would be less disruptive than trying to engage someone more…energetic.
"Shi-" The name barely left her mouth before a pencil sailed through the air, landing perfectly between her fingers. Shikamaru had tossed it with characteristic precision. She gave him a grateful smile and quickly began writing down the answers to the remaining fractions.
“Isn’t that meant to be done at home? Why wait until the last second?” Shikamaru yawned, his head lifted as he turned in his seat to look up at her. Picking out some sleep dust from his eyelashes, he said, “And I know you aren’t one for being lazy like me, so the only way I can assume is you were training.”
“Yeah…been working on taijutsu as much as I can…everyone knows how it is with me when it’s ninjutsu or Genjutsu…” Hisaro mumbled softly, trying to keep her brain focused on her fractions. It’s not like she couldn’t do that stuff, but for some reason, her chakra doesn’t build up enough, allowing only one or two things before she’s exhausted, and it takes days to build up again. Finishing off the last fractions before passing it down to him, “It’s like the only thing I can do, but I‘m not that great…”
“Well, if we ever got in a fight and I didn’t use ninjutsu, pretty sure you’re stronger than me in that regard,” Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders, taking back his pencil and placing it down before resting his head again.
Hisaro's chakra control issues weren't a recent development. She vividly recalled the first time her instructors had noticed something…off.
It was during a fundamental chakra control exercise the previous year. While her classmates effortlessly formed simple constructs—small leaf-floating demonstrations appeared effortlessly—Hisaro struggled. Maintaining even the most basic chakra concentration felt like an insurmountable task, a Herculean effort that left her drained.
Mizuki-sensei, a kind-faced chuunin, had observed her with a blend of concern and intrigue. "Focus, Hisaro," he'd instructed, patiently demonstrating the hand signs again. "Imagine your chakra flowing smoothly, like water."
But Hisaro's chakra felt anything but fluid. It was like trying to grasp sand, constantly slipping through her fingers no matter how hard she tried. A single attempt at even a simple technique would leave her utterly depleted, dizzy, and exhausted, while her peers continued practicing with seemingly boundless energy.
It wasn't that she was incapable of performing ninjutsu. Technically, she could. But each jutsu felt like running a marathon, while it was a mere stroll in the park for others. Her body simply couldn't sustain the chakra expenditure required for prolonged or complex ninja arts.
This limitation had driven her towards taijutsu - pure physical training. While her chakra reserves remained frustratingly small, her determination was limitless. She'd spend hours practicing basic strikes, learning to move her body with precision and power.
Kiba, a frequent observer of her training sessions, would often punch her shoulder playfully. "Dude, keep training like this and you'll be totally badass!" Akamaru would bark enthusiastically in agreement, tail wagging.
Hisaro’s focus sharpened as the classroom chatter gradually subsided, replaced by the distinct sounds of a struggle emanating from the hallway outside. The commotion grew closer, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal Iruka-Sensei, his brow furrowed in exasperation, dragging a rope-bound Naruto in his wake. Naruto’s usual boisterous energy was replaced with a sheepish slump, and the sight of him hogtied sent a wave of suppressed laughter through Hisaro; she quickly covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Naruto was positioned in the center of the room as Iruka-Sensei released an exasperated sigh, “I’m at the end of my rope, Naruto. You failed the graduation test last time, and the time before that. Tomorrow you’ve got another chance, and you’re messing up again! Where’d you even get the paint?!”
Hisaro’s eyes widened slightly as she recalled the events of the previous day. Naruto had approached her, asking to borrow some paint to refresh the walls of his small apartment. Knowing she and her father wouldn't be using it in the foreseeable future, she had readily agreed. Now, however, with Naruto bound and Iruka-Sensei clearly furious, her generosity felt like a potential misstep, and she desperately hoped she wouldn't be drawn into the ensuing interrogation.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Shikamaru turn his head slightly to look at her, whispering, “Didn’t Naruto come from your place with paint?”
A slight blush warmed Hisaro's cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety. All she could muster at the time was a small nod, her gaze fixed on her nearly completed schoolwork. She caught a glimpse of Shikamaru’s grin, a hint of amusement in his eyes before he turned his attention back to the front of the classroom.
At least Naruto wasn’t going to be a narc as he let out a huff and turned his head away, refusing to meet Iruka-Sensei's gaze. Though of course, this only served to further irritate Iruka-Sensei, who then pointed at the rest of the class. “Fine! Because you missed it and won’t tell me, Naruto, everyone will review the Transformation Jutsu!”
A collective groan rippled through the classroom, Hisaro's sigh perhaps the most pronounced. She had been meticulously conserving her chakra in anticipation of tomorrow's graduation test, the specifics of which remained shrouded in mystery. Now, faced with an unexpected chakra expenditure, she could only hope for an improbable surge in her reserves overnight.
As the students shuffled from their desks towards the front of the room, Iruka-Sensei, with a flick of his kunai, sliced through the ropes binding Naruto, freeing him to join the line forming for the Transformation Jutsu demonstration. Sakura stood at the head of the line, followed by Sasuke, then Hisaro. Naruto, with a mischievous grin, managed to slip in behind Hisaro, just ahead of Shikamaru and Ino.
"HISARO!" Naruto whispered loudly (which defeats the purpose of whispering), "Thanks for the paint! You GOTTA check out the Hokage's faces after school - it's gonna be AWESOME!"
"Glad you had fun, Naruto," Hisaro whispered back with a soft smile, "and thanks for not getting me involved."
Naruto grinned, giving her a thumbs up, "NO WAY! We're friends, believe it!"
Sakura stepped forward first, her hands weaving the familiar signs of the Transformation Jutsu. With a burst of smoke, she flawlessly transformed into a perfect replica of Iruka-sensei, down to the scar across his nose. A moment later, the illusion dispersed, and Sakura reappeared, a small smile playing on her lips. Sasuke followed, executing the jutsu with his usual effortless grace, transforming into Iruka-sensei with an almost bored expression before returning to his normal self. Observing her classmates, Hisaro’s smile faded into a slight frown. “But this is worse…I don’t know if I’d be able to graduate tomorrow because of my chakra…”
Naruto cringed, opening his mouth to apologize, but was cut short by Iruka-Sensei’s call, “Next. Hisaro Kasuya.”
Taking a deep breath, Hisaro stepped forward. Her hands moved through the necessary signs, each movement precise and deliberate. She focused on gathering her meager chakra reserves, feeling the familiar struggle to contain the elusive energy. Even as she molded it, she sensed it slipping away, like grains of sand through her fingers. With a puff of smoke, she transformed, not into Iruka-sensei as expected, but into a startlingly accurate image of her father – the stern, imposing Jonin, complete with his signature flak jacket and furrowed brow. Only Iruka-sensei, familiar with her family situation, truly recognized the figure she had chosen. The rest of the class remained oblivious to the significance of her transformation.
She held the form for a few agonizing seconds, the strain of maintaining the jutsu evident in her trembling limbs. Finally, as the last vestiges of her chakra dissipated, the smoke cleared, revealing Hisaro once more, panting heavily, sweat beading on her forehead. The familiar wave of exhaustion washed over her, a stark reminder of her limitations. She hated this feeling every time.
“At least you picked someone else to transform into,” Iruka-sensei mumbled with a small smile, noting her choice. He had intended to excuse her from the exercise, aware of her chakra limitations, but she'd been too quick. He made a mental note to consider adjusting tomorrow's graduation exam to accommodate her unique situation. Turning to the next student in line, he called out, “Next. Naruto Uzumaki.”
Hisaro, still panting slightly from the exertion, wiped the sweat from her brow as she rejoined Sakura and Sasuke. Sakura, her brow furrowed with concern, leaned in and whispered, “Are you okay? Do you have enough chakra for the exam tomorrow?”
A faint blush warmed Hisaro's cheeks at Sakura's unexpected concern. She was aware of Naruto's crush on Sakura, a crush she, too, secretly harbored. However, she’d never breathed a word of it to Naruto. The thought of confessing her feelings for her best friend's crush felt too awkward, too fraught with the potential for complications. The ongoing rivalry between Sakura and Ino served as a constant reminder of the emotional minefield she was carefully navigating.
“I-I should be fine…as long as I don’t do anything else during that time,” Hisaro replied with a nervous smile, attempting to mask her growing apprehension.
Sasuke, who had been silently observing the exchange, surprised her by speaking. It was a rare occurrence for him to engage her directly. “Who was that you transformed into?” he asked, his dark eyes curious.
“My dad…” Hisaro responded softly, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she pictured the man who had raised her.
Hisaro felt the faint, familiar tingle of chakra as she turned to watch Naruto’s transformation, curious to see who he would choose to mimic. She caught a fleeting glimpse of his distinctive yellow chakra before it vanished in a puff of smoke as the jutsu took hold. However, when the smoke began to clear, lingering tendrils stubbornly clung to certain…strategic locations, revealing the unmistakable form of Naruto's infamous Sexy Jutsu.
The reactions from the class were a mixed bag, ranging from mortification to amusement. Iruka, Sasuke, and Ino were visibly irritated. Iruka scolded him while Ino muttered, "Pervert!" under her breath. Sakura, however, radiated a palpable fury that sent a shiver down Hisaro’s spine. Hisaro could feel the heat of Sakura's rage emanating from beside her, the anger in her emerald eyes practically sparking as she muttered, “When he comes over here…”
Sasuke and Shikamaru's faces were carefully neutral, and their gazes were pointedly averted. Kiba and Choji, despite their embarrassment, couldn't stifle their snickers. Hinata, meanwhile, had transformed into a bright red, glowing mess, her hands clamped over her eyes.
Hisaro, too, blushed crimson, quickly turning her head away. However, her blush wasn't entirely due to embarrassment. She desperately wanted to hide the telltale trickle of blood from her nose. This wasn't the first time Naruto had unleashed his Sexy Jutsu, and she suspected he'd aimed it directly at her, enjoying her predictable reaction. He knew her weakness for this sort of thing, and the mischievous glint in his eye confirmed her suspicions – it was his way of apologizing for the paint incident. At least Iruka seemed to be suffering a similar nasal affliction.
Shino, as usual, remained impassive, his expression unchanged.
With another puff of smoke, Naruto reverted to his normal form, letting out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Gotcha! That’s my Sexy Jutsu!”
“Cut the stupid tricks! This is your last warning!” Iruka yelled, his voice rising above the din.
After that, Naruto did follow through with a normal transformation, also choosing to transform into Iruka-Sensei like Sasuke and Sakura did, though Hisaro, aware of Naruto's close bond with Iruka, found his choice a little surprising. Before moving to join Hisaro, Sakura, and Sasuke, Naruto's intended trajectory was clear to Hisaro, who subtly shook her head, silently urging him to reconsider his position given Sakura's still-simmering fury.
Heeding her unspoken warning, Naruto wisely positioned himself beside Hisaro, putting her between himself and Sakura's potential wrath. He smirked, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “So, did you like what you saw? You don’t need to answer; I already know.”
“I saved you from being punched by Sakura…” Hisaro blushed, muttering under her breath as she playfully grabbed and pinched his ear, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance coloring her cheeks. Naruto smirked, rubbing his ear after she released it, then snickered, “But that was for causing this…” Hisaro dabbed at the lingering trace of blood from her nose, a testament to Naruto’s strategically aimed jutsu.
Inspired by Hisaro’s earlier transformation, the remaining students seemed to follow suit, each choosing a parental figure to mimic. Shikamaru, with a mumbled complaint about how troublesome it all was, transformed into his father, Shikaku. Ino followed, morphing into her father, Inoichi. Choji, Hinata, and Shino each briefly became their respective fathers, while Kiba, in a twist, transformed into his mother, momentarily confusing Akamaru, who quickly recognized his companion's scent despite the altered appearance.
After the flurry of transformations, the class resumed as normal, though Hisaro received a mild scolding from Iruka, who had easily discerned her last-minute completion of the assigned fractions. The undried ink was a clear giveaway.
Near the end of the lesson, Naruto leaned over, whispering to Hisaro, “Ready to run and check the Hokage faces? It’s going to be great when you see what I’ve done.”
“Yeah…though you will need to pay back for the paint you used…” Hisaro reminded him. Naruto hung his head momentarily, then grinned, giving her a thumbs-up, a silent promise she knew he'd eventually keep, though the timing remained uncertain.
“Oh, you two will be seeing the Hokage faces all right, up close and personal as you two spend the afternoon cleaning it,” Iruka-Sensei’s voice startled them both, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Hisaro initially wondered how he knew of her involvement, then realized Naruto’s earlier, not-so-subtle whisper had betrayed her.
Hisaro grabbed Naruto’s shoulders and shook him back and forth, “Naruto!”
The afternoon breeze, cool and refreshing, was a delight to feel, especially so high above the village nestled amongst the mountain range. Hisaro always loved a nice breeze, but what she didn’t enjoy was that she was only getting to feel it as both she and Naruto were hard at work, perched precariously on the Hokage Monument, scrubbing away at the graffiti that defaced the stone faces. Iruka-Sensei, perched on the top of the Hokage’s head, kept a watchful eye on them, ensuring they didn't slack off or attempt an escape.
"This totally stinks!" Naruto mumbled as he dipped his grime-covered cloth into the bucket of soapy water, swirling it around before attacking a particularly stubborn patch of orange paint marring the Third Hokage's stone nose.
Hisaro, beside him, mirrored his actions, her own cloth stained a multitude of colors. While she had initially been impressed, albeit amused, by Naruto’s artistic vandalism of the revered monument, the novelty had quickly worn off. Now, arms aching and fingers stiff, she was beginning to regret her generosity in lending him the paint. She had a small pout as she pressed hard on the stone, scrubbing vigorously at a streak of vibrant green, as she mumbled, “Tell me about it…I didn’t even do any of this and yet I have to clean it up too. Where’d you even get the rest of the paint? I only gave you the one.”
"Hehehe..." Naruto answered with a mischievous grin, glancing around to make sure Iruka-Sensei couldn't hear, "I got some from Choji and Kiba! And another bucket from Shikamaru, believe it!"
“Then why am I the only one helping you with this?” Hisaro whispered back, annoyed. She might be his best friend, but even she had her limits. Dunking her paint-laden cloth back into the bucket, she flicked a small spray of water onto Naruto’s face.
Naruto coughed a little from the unexpected splash, but he didn't try to fight back, knowing it was a little deserved, "Aw come on! They'd be super mad at me if I ratted them out... besides, I wanted to hang out with you! And since I was gonna be stuck doing this anyway... I made sure you'd get caught too!"
Hisaro just sighed in acceptance. He had whispered loudly on purpose during class, ensuring she got caught too. Honestly, she should have seen it coming. But she wasn’t too mad, “Not like I have much to do at home…dad won’t be back from his mission till tomorrow anyway.”
“You two aren’t going home till you’ve cleaned up every drop of paint!” Iruka-Sensei called down to them. His arms crossed as he sat and watched them, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he observed their whispered conversation, though they had become adept at keeping their voices low enough to avoid his eavesdropping.
Naruto paused in his scrubbing, glancing up at Iruka-Sensei with a small, almost defiant smile. “So what? It’s not like there’s anyone at home waiting for me.” He then resumed his task, his movements a little more languid than before.
Hisaro offered a sad smile in response, her heart aching slightly for her friend. While Naruto had grown accustomed to the emptiness of his apartment and the lack of a waiting family, a fact he had seemingly come to terms with over the years, it still saddened Hisaro to hear it spoken aloud. She opted not to address it directly, sensing that it wouldn't serve any purpose at this moment and instead echoed Naruto's sentiment. “And my dad won’t be home till tomorrow, so I don’t need to worry either.”
A brief silence settled over the monument as they continued their scrubbing, the rhythmic swishing of their cloths against the stone the only sound for a few moments, before Iruka called out again, “Naruto? Hisaro?”
Naruto and Hisaro exchanged a quick glance, a shared look of mild confusion passing between them as they wondered what Iruka wanted now. Naruto, a slight pout forming on his lips and a glint of suspicion in his eyes, looked up. “What do you want now, Sensei?”
“It feels like you keep distracting us on purpose to stay here longer to clean,” Hisaro added, her tone light but laced with a playful accusation as she, too, looked up at their teacher.
“It’s not that,” Iruka chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. “I was just thinking…maybe after you two clean this all up, I’ll take you both out for ramen. The good stuff.” The effect of his words was instantaneous. It was as if a switch had been flipped within both Naruto and Hisaro. Their postures straightened, their eyes widening slightly at the mention of ramen, their expressions brightening even further at the enticing promise of "the good stuff." They both held Iruka's gaze expectantly, awaiting confirmation of his offer. “What do you two think?”
Hisaro recalled a time when the taste of ramen had been unfamiliar and unappealing, the texture strange on her tongue, a culinary experience she had actively avoided. That was, until Naruto, a self-proclaimed ramen connoisseur, introduced her to his favorite ramen shop, patiently coaxing her to try a bowl. Her opinion had shifted dramatically since then, though she hadn't developed the near-addictive fondness for it that Naruto possessed. She had, however, learned a valuable lesson: never offer to pay for Naruto’s ramen.
“Now that’s some serious motivation!” Naruto exclaimed, his face beaming with unrestrained joy as he renewed his scrubbing efforts with a vigor that sent splashes of soapy water flying from the bucket. His enthusiasm proved contagious. Hisaro, despite the growing ache in her arms, mirrored his increased pace, a wide smile reflecting her own anticipation. “Me and Naruto will get this done quick!”
As dusk settled over Konohagakure, stars began to pepper the darkening sky. The vibrant hustle of the day gradually subsided, leaving a quieter, more peaceful atmosphere. A few villagers still lingered, engaged in hushed conversations, enjoying late meals at the local restaurants, or simply savoring the cool evening air.
Hisaro, having shared a single bowl of ramen with Naruto and Iruka-Sensei, decided to head home, leaving the two ramen enthusiasts to continue their culinary adventure. She had briefly considered joining them for another bowl but decided against it, not wanting to strain Iruka-Sensei's wallet.
Besides, the lingering exhaustion from her earlier chakra exertion tugged at her, urging her towards the comfort of her bed. She knew the fatigue would likely persist, as her chakra reserves had barely replenished since the Transformation Jutsu exercise. At best, she could probably manage another transformation, but a nagging feeling told her tomorrow's exam would involve a different jutsu altogether.
Instead of taking her usual route home, Hisaro opted for a leisurely detour, wanting to savor the cool night air a little longer. Her wanderings led her to a familiar yet enigmatic sight – the fenced-off crater, a place both sacred and mysterious.
The crater itself wasn't large, mostly repaired from whatever impact had formed it, but at its center stood a small shrine, perpetually guarded. Within this shrine resided the object of much speculation and reverence, known simply as "The Sphere from the Heavens." It was a large, metallic orb that had crashed into the village decades ago when the Third Hokage was a child, the same age as Hisaro and Naruto now. Despite countless attempts, the sphere remained stubbornly sealed, its contents a mystery. Experts, baffled by its composition and origin, could only speculate that it was hollow, based on the faint echo produced when it was tapped.
Initially, there had been discussions of moving the sphere to a more secluded location, but a prevailing sentiment considered it a sign of some sort, a celestial artifact best kept in plain sight, though always under watchful guard. Hisaro had always longed for a closer look but knew that access was restricted to Jonin and above. A persistent curiosity tugged at her, urging her closer, but she lacked the courage to approach. Tonight, she briefly checked to see which Jonin was on duty, hoping for a familiar face, but upon seeing Asuma, she decided against it, continuing her walk home.
Lost in thought about the sphere and tomorrow's exam, Hisaro strolled past the Hyuga residence and noticed Hinata standing out front, her gaze fixed on the sky, seemingly deep in contemplation. Hisaro surmised that perhaps something had happened inside, prompting Hinata to seek solace outdoors.
After a brief pause to see if Hinata would notice her presence, Hisaro gently tapped her shoulder. Hinata turned, and Hisaro offered a small smile and a wave. “Hi, Hinata.”
A faint blush colored Hinata's cheeks as she registered who was speaking to her. Hisaro, assuming it was the cool evening air, watched as Hinata smoothed down her clothes and focused on her. “O-Oh, hi, Hisaro. Are you just heading home now? Was the paint hard to get out?”
“Nothing like that, we finished it earlier before getting ramen, Nauto and Iruka-Sensei are probably still here. I headed off early as I wanted to get home…” Hisaro explained softly, a silent sigh escaping her as her thoughts returned to the looming exam, the stress of it tightening in her chest. She had a tendency to overthink things, especially when it came to her chakra limitations. “Wanted a walk to think…I’m worried about the exam tomorrow…and if I have enough chakra for it.”
“I-I’m sure you’ll be able to do it, I know your chakra is low, but I think perhaps since your body knows how bad you want to succeed, it will try and build up more chakra,” Hinata offered, searching for words of encouragement to ease Hisaro’s anxiety. She nervously rolled her fingers together. “A-And I think you’ll do it as well. I believe in you.”
“Thank you Hinata, I really needed that,” Hisaro replied, a genuine smile replacing her earlier apprehension. She turned to continue her walk home, taking a deep breath, then glanced back at Hinata over her shoulder. “And I know you will pass the exam tomorrow too.”
As Hisaro waved goodbye, she missed the way Hinata’s smile faltered, replaced by a worried expression. Hinata recalled an incident when she had accidentally used her Byakugan on Hisaro and witnessed something she couldn't explain. Fearful of Hisaro's reaction, she had kept it to herself. Now, all she could do was offer a sad smile as Hisaro walked away.
The Kasuya clan estate wasn't far from the Hyuga compound; they were practically neighbors. Hisaro's home, however, was considerably smaller than the sprawling Hyuga estate, which was probably for the best. She didn't relish the idea of a large, empty house, especially when her father was away on missions, leaving her alone. The Kasuya clan had been prominent in Konoha's founding, but over generations, through marriages and dwindling numbers, it had shrunk to just her and her parents, and now, just her. She knew she had distant relatives somewhere, but she'd never met them.
Reaching her home, she quickly made her way to her room, a familiar nervousness tightening in her chest as she traversed the long, dark hallways. It wasn't a fear of the dark itself, but rather the unsettling sense of unseen possibilities that lurked within the shadows. It might seem childish, but she always left a small lamp on while she slept.
As she prepared for bed, she caught her reflection in the mirror – short, choppy black hair, a deliberate style despite the prevailing preference for longer, more traditionally feminine hairstyles from her friends. The spiky fringe, however, was purely practical, keeping her vision unobstructed during taijutsu practice. Her blue eyes, usually bright and alert, now held a hint of weariness.
She quickly changed out of her standard Konoha shinobi attire – the forest-green shirt and pants, removing her ninja gear, including the kunai pouch strapped to her right thigh and the shuriken holster on her left. As she prepared for sleep, the lingering ache in her muscles, a testament to the day's exertions – from the chakra depletion of the Transformation Jutsu to the hours spent scrubbing graffiti from the Hokage Monument – reminded her of the upcoming exam.
After smoothing down her unruly hair, which had become even more disheveled from the day's activities, Hisaro finally settled into bed. Despite her physical exhaustion, sleep evaded her for nearly half an hour, her mind still buzzing with anxieties about the following day's graduation test.
The next day in class, the lingering stress from the previous day weighed heavily on Hisaro. Glancing around, she noticed a shared sense of anxiety among her classmates. Naruto, in particular, seemed just as worried, his knee bouncing restlessly as he chewed on his lower lip, lost in thought.
“We will now start the final exam. When your name is called, proceed to the testing room,” Iruka-Sensei announced from the front of the class, holding a sheet of paper as he explained the exam procedures. His gaze swept over the room, meeting each student's eye. ”The final test will be on... The Clone Jutsu.”
Hisaro bit her lip nervously. She had no idea how many clones were required for the exam, but she felt as though summoning even one would be a monumental task. Naruto seemed to be in even worse shape, gripping his head in his hands. Hisaro knew the Clone Jutsu was his weakest, which meant they were both in serious danger of failing.
“We’ll be starting with, Hisaro Kasuya,” Iruka-Sensei called, deepening Hisaro’s sense of dread. She'd hoped to be called later, giving her chakra reserves a little more time to replenish. But now… Iruka-Sensei, seemingly oblivious to her worry, continued, “Come on, you’ll be judged by both me and Mizuki.”
Naruto, despite his own anxieties, swallowed them down and turned to offer his friend a reassuring look. "I know you can do it, Hisaro!" Naruto said, giving her a thumbs up and a wide grin. "You've got this!"
“...thanks Naruto,” Hisaro replied with a small, forced smile, avoiding his gaze as she stood and followed Iruka-Sensei out of the classroom. “... I know you can too…”
The walk to the testing room was silent and tense. Inside, Mizuki-Sensei was already seated at a table, a stack of Konoha headbands neatly arranged on the desk, ready to be distributed to the successful candidates. Hisaro moved to the center of the room, nervously awaiting her instructions.
“Now, before we begin, I need to inform you that your test is slightly different compared to the rest of the students,” Iruka-Sensei began, causing Hisaro to tilt her head in confusion. Iruka-Sensei chuckled, a warm smile crossing his face. "Normally, we'd have you try to produce at least two clones. But given your unique situation..." He gave her an encouraging look, "We'll only need you to produce one."
Hisaro nodded slowly, a flicker of hope rekindling within her. Perhaps she had a chance after all. Closing her eyes, she focused intently, trying to gather what little chakra she had left. But no matter how hard she tried, it wasn't enough. She managed to produce the initial puff of smoke, but no clone materialized.
A heavy silence filled the room as the smoke dissipated, revealing only Hisaro, her chest heaving with each shallow breath. Iruka and Mizuki exchanged a look fraught with unspoken understanding.
Mizuki leaned forward, his expression carefully neutral yet tinged with genuine concern. "You gave it your full effort," he said softly, making a small, almost apologetic notation on the clipboard before him.
Iruka's face was a mixture of sympathy and disappointment. He understood her limitations better than most, having witnessed her struggles firsthand throughout the year. "I'm sorry, Hisaro," he said gently, his voice pitched low to maintain a semblance of privacy within the otherwise silent room. "We won't be able to pass you this time."
Hisaro's shoulders slumped slightly, but she nodded with a quiet dignity that belied her young age. No tears, no outbursts—just a stoic acceptance that spoke volumes about her character. She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat, the sting of disappointment a familiar ache.
Mizuki's pen paused mid-stroke. "Your transformation yesterday was impressive, though," he added, attempting to offer a sliver of consolation. "And your determination is certainly noteworthy."
But the words offered little comfort. A hollow silence echoed within Hisaro as she moved quietly towards the door, pausing at the threshold to make a quiet request, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t tell Naruto…” Then, before either instructor could respond, she turned and sprinted down the hallway, tears threatening to spill but held resolutely at bay. She couldn't face returning to the classroom and couldn't bear the weight of pitying glances from her peers.
The thought of facing her father, returning from his mission later that day, empty-handed, intensified her despair. Once safely outside the academy walls, she finally allowed the tears to fall, hot streaks against her cheeks, a silent testament to her dashed hopes. The shinobi code emphasized emotional control, a principle she usually adhered to rigorously. But today, the weight of her failure felt too heavy to bear, and the tears, a forbidden release, offered a small, bitter solace.
Seeking refuge, she found an unlikely sanctuary atop one of the Hokage Monument's sculpted heads—a place few would think to look for a grieving child. While somewhat exposed, it offered a degree of anonymity she wouldn't find within the village's maze of alleyways and hidden corners. There, perched high above Konoha, she remained for most of the day, lost in a torrent of tears.
By nightfall, emotionally and physically drained, she had no tears left to cry. With practiced ease honed from countless training sessions, she descended from her perch, leaping from the monument to a nearby rooftop before silently landing on the deserted street below. She kept to the quieter side streets, avoiding any potential encounters and the inevitable questions about her well-being. The only people she wanted to see were Naruto, whom she desperately hoped had passed the exam, and her father, who could be anywhere—home, reporting to the Hokage, or perhaps even searching for her.
Unconsciously retracing her steps from the previous night, she found herself once again near the shrine housing the enigmatic "Sphere from the Heavens." But this time, something was amiss. Despite her emotional turmoil and exhaustion, she noticed the absence of the usual Jonin guard.
Hesitation flickered within her, a brief debate between continuing her journey home and investigating the unusual situation. But her spirits were already so low that the prospect of being caught in a restricted area seemed insignificant. With a surge of reckless abandon, she vaulted the fence and approached the shrine.
Despite her tumultuous feelings, a nervous tremor ran through her as she drew closer to the shrine, housed within a traditional kamidana . She slid open the small wooden doors, revealing the Sphere within. At first glance, it was surprisingly underwhelming for something called the 'Sphere from the Heavens'. It looked like any ordinary metal orb, easily forged and placed there, but Hisaro knew appearances could be deceiving.
Slowly, she extended a hand, her fingers brushing against the smooth, cool curve of the sphere. Despite being exposed to the elements for decades, it showed no signs of rust or decay. Its color seemed slightly off, a muted silver with an almost ethereal sheen, but she attributed that to the years spent in the kamidana’s dim interior. She wasn't an expert on metals, after all. Still, the texture was unlike anything she'd ever encountered. Then, something unexpected happened. The sphere seemed to react to her touch. With a soft hiss, a section of it began to open, revealing a dark void within.
Her heart pounding in her chest, Hisaro carefully lifted the sphere from the kamidana , holding it up to the moonlight to peer inside. What she saw was even stranger than she could have imagined. Resting at the bottom of the sphere was a device resembling a watch, marked with a glowing green hourglass symbol. A faint luminescence emanated from it, hinting at some unknown technology. She knew she should stop, should inform someone, but an irresistible curiosity compelled her to reach inside.
In that instant, the device flared with a brilliant light. Despite her training and instincts, her attempt to retract her hand was too late. The device seemed to spring to life, leaping from the sphere and latching onto her wrist. Her sleeve slid up her arm as it secured itself firmly, feeling almost like an extension of her own skin. Panic flared in her eyes as she tried to shake it off, then to pry it loose, but it remained stubbornly attached.
“...I’m going to be in even bigger trouble now…” Hisaro mumbled, sinking to the ground in defeat as she examined the device, her worries about the day fading into the background.
Hisaro sat there for a few moments, trying to think of what to do next. The best course of action, she decided, was to inspect the device now that it seemed permanently affixed to her wrist. It was tricky to figure out at first; since it was on her right wrist, she had to use her left hand, which felt awkward. But after a moment of fumbling, she managed to press two small buttons simultaneously, and the face-plate popped up with a soft click.
“What?...” Hisaro muttered and stared as the hourglass symbol shifted into a green diamond before displaying a shadowy silhouette of a strange creature. Rotating the face-plate further, she discovered a series of other symbols – a bizarre collection of shapes and sizes. She paused, her finger hovering over one that seemed vaguely humanoid, though with an unusual, flame-like hairstyle. “Maybe it’s a weird type of history log…records of things from the past?”
With that thought in mind, she pressed the face-plate down. And that's when the unexpected happened. A brilliant flash of green light erupted, momentarily illuminating the entire area, obscuring Hisaro from view. The intense glow lasted for a few seconds before fading away, revealing a startling transformation.
Standing where Hisaro once sat was now a being seemingly sculpted from volcanic rock, molten lava flowing through cracks in its dark, obsidian-like skin. Its hands and feet resembled condensed sunlight, sparks of flame dancing on their surfaces. The head echoed the body's molten motif, the "hair" Hisaro had initially observed now clearly recognizable as flickering flames.
The figure stood significantly taller than Hisaro, its slim, feminine form radiating an intense heat. It looked down at its hands and feet, a flicker of fear crossing its molten features before it began to run in panicked circles around the shrine, small patches of grass igniting beneath its fiery steps. “I’m on fire! Someone help me!”
“Wait…is that me?” Hisaro mumbled, her voice a little deeper than usual in this form as she gave herself a thorough inspection. She was also coming to terms with the fact that she wasn’t actually getting hurt by the burning flames; it was like it was natural for this body to deal with the intense heat. “What even am I?”
If she had to give her honest thoughts about it, while it was cool and amazing, she wouldn’t want to be in this form forever. She wouldn’t be able to do many of her favorite things like she could before. She noticed that same hourglass symbol, now white, was now on her chest. She gave it a small, experimental tap, but nothing happened.
“Figures, that would be too easy…” Hisaro sighed. It would have been too amazing if she could figure this device out right away, but it wasn’t meant to be. She wanted to know what this form could do, but didn’t know how to do it safely. “Hmm, what if I–”
She cut herself off as her senses went off, a sudden awareness of a threat. She quickly side-stepped, surprised that her reflexes were the same as in her regular body. She was glad her training wasn’t all for nothing. A few shuriken embedded themselves in the ground where she had just been standing. She looked in the direction of the attack to see a few Jonin positioned atop the surrounding buildings.
She wouldn’t take their initial assault as problematic; seeing a being of fire would make anyone wary. She waved at them, feeling a little bit of relief. “Oh, it’s good to see someone that can help! Could you–”
Hisaro blinked, surprised, when she felt a few kunai hit her chest. But because of her rocky, lava-like skin, they bounced off with ease, though chipping small pieces of rock as they fell to the ground, blades sticking into the dirt. She nervously looked up at the Jonin again. They didn’t seem to be in a talking mood. She could hear one of them mutter.
“First, that Naruto kid takes the sacred scroll, and now a fire demon in town? What is going on today?!”
‘Naruto…what did you do…’ Hisaro thought, worried. Maybe the exam hadn’t gone well for him either. But right now, she had her own problems. If the Jonin weren’t willing to talk with her like this, maybe she should go straight to the Hokage. She gave the Jonin a quick, somewhat sarcastic, finger salute before sprinting down the street. The only problem: they could easily keep track of her because of the light she emitted.
As she ran, she ended up scaring a few people by accident; some villagers were still strolling about at this hour, and they all scattered at the sight of her. Adding to her predicament, while she retained her usual speed and had a head-start, she was still being pursued by Jonin, and technically, she wasn't even a genin yet, thanks to her failed exam. The thought crossed her mind that she might not get another chance to graduate at all. Due to the sheer difference in skill, she couldn't dodge all of the shuriken they threw. Most bounced harmlessly off her rocky surface, or melted when they hit the lava flowing between the cracks in her skin.
She skidded to a halt, the sudden stop causing a burning sensation in her nose, as she found herself facing even more Jonin ahead. Perhaps whatever Naruto had been involved in had been resolved, and now all the village's forces were focused on her . At least one person she didn't want to see wasn't there yet. But what she really didn't want to see was the wave of shuriken and kunai plummeting down towards her.
‘I can’t stop them all!’ Hisaro’s thoughts were of alarm as she held up her hands instinctively to block some, but something unexpected happened. Her hands glowed with power, blasting a beam of flames that either melted the incoming projectiles or knocked them off course with the sheer force of the heatwave. Hisaro’s eyes widened. ‘That was amazing!’
The beam, however, hadn't stopped, continuing towards the Jonin, who all managed to leap out of the way just in time. A few roofs, unfortunately, caught fire. Quickly lowering her hands, she kept running. ‘No longer amazing!’
As she turned down another path, the Hokage’s building came into sight, offering a glimmer of hope that the pursuit might end. Perhaps there, surrounded by other Jonin, they would cease their relentless chase. But as she drew closer, a sudden, unexpected tug on her leg sent her sprawling face-first into the dirt. The impact of her chest hitting the ground jarred the strange device on her chest, causing the symbol to flash red. In another blinding flash, she was back to normal.
“I’m back to normal?” Hisaro quickly sat up, brushing the dirt from her clothes and checking herself over. Her gaze fell upon her wrist, where the green hourglass symbol had been replaced by a red one. She sighed, a mixture of relief and confusion washing over her. “I really need to figure you out…what even tripped me?”
“You know, most parents have to deal with their children not doing their homework, or not keeping up with their training,” A voice said from behind her, causing her to jump, a jolt of fear shooting down her spine. She dared not look as the footsteps got closer, “Yet, I have to deal with a daughter, who went into a restricted space, messed with a forbidden object, and turned into a fire demon. All in the same night. You should be glad that whatever that form was, it gave away who you were from the scar on its back.”
The figure slowly walked around and knelt in front of her. Hisaro finally looked up, her eyes meeting the familiar silver hair, the familiar mask obscuring the lower half of his face, the headband tilted to cover his left eye. His visible right eye, a warm, dark grey, held a complex mixture of concern, amusement, and a hint of intrigue. He looked into her eyes deeply, “And isn’t there something that a child usually says to their parent when they mess up?”
To most people, this Jonin was known as Kakashi Hatake, the Copy-Ninja, a man shrouded in an air of casual indifference, his reputation built on both prodigious skill and a penchant for tardiness. But to Hisaro, he was simply, “Sorry, dad.”