Morning had already settled over Konoha. Birds called from the trees beyond the compound walls, their songs drifting zily through the quiet air. Sunlight spilled through the open window despite the early hour, washing the wooden floor in pale gold and catching faint motes of dust that drifted slowly in the light.

  Reiji and his father sat across from each other at the breakfast table.

  Rice. Grilled fish. Miso soup.

  The meal was simple, quiet, and routine.

  His father ate the way he always did—calmly, silently, without unnecessary movement. Chopsticks lifted. Food disappeared. The bowl lowered again. Everything measured, precise, and unhurried.

  Reiji, however, seemed to be in a particurly good mood.

  He chewed loudly.

  Much louder than necessary.

  "It's very good, Father," he said between bites, his voice bright with exaggerated appreciation. "There's something different about it today, no?"

  "Not really," his father replied calmly without looking up.

  "Really?" Reiji tilted his head thoughtfully, as if considering a complicated mystery. "Strange. It almost tastes… elevated somehow."

  His father continued eating.

  Reiji hummed thoughtfully, nodding as though confirming his own theory.

  "Yes, definitely elevated," he continued. "The fvor really stands out from this angle."

  "Is that so?" his father said evenly. "I am honored."

  "Don't be so humble," Reiji replied cheerfully. "If we didn't live in a vilge of shinobi, I'm sure you would have become a cook."

  His father paused.

  Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his chopsticks onto the table.

  A small drop of miso soup slid from the tip and nded softly against the wood.

  Only then did his father lift his eyes.

  Reiji was sitting on the ceiling.

  Upside down.

  His legs were crossed comfortably against the wooden beams, chakra holding him there as securely as if gravity had simply forgotten him. His bowl was tilted with careful precision so the food wouldn't spill as he continued eating as though nothing about the situation was unusual.

  His father studied him for several quiet seconds.

  Then he asked calmly,

  "So… will you continue doing that much longer?"

  Reiji grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

  "I just thought you should know," he said proudly, "that I've mastered tree walking."

  His father looked at him for a long moment.

  Then he calmly picked up his chopsticks again and finished the st bite of his meal.

  "Have you."

  Reiji waited.

  His father stood, lifting his bowl and pcing it neatly beside the others.

  "I will believe you," he said.

  Reiji's grin widened immediately.

  "Finally."

  His father picked up his cane and walked toward the sliding door that opened onto the garden.

  "Under one condition."

  Reiji dropped lightly from the ceiling and nded on the floor with a soft thud, his sandals touching the wood with barely a sound.

  "What condition?"

  His father slid the door open.

  Cool morning air drifted inside, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine. Outside, the garden y quiet and still. The pond reflected the early sunlight like polished gss.

  "Walk with me."

  Reiji frowned slightly but followed.

  They stepped onto the stone path that wound through the garden. His father moved slowly, the cane tapping softly against the stones as they passed the trimmed bushes and the quiet curve of the pond.

  They stopped at the water's edge.

  His father tapped the surface of the pond with the end of his cane.

  Ripples spread outward across the still water.

  "Well," his father said calmly, "if you can walk on walls…"

  He gnced sideways at Reiji.

  "…it would make sense that you can walk on water as well."

  Reiji stared at the pond.

  Then at his father.

  "Oh."

  A faint smile appeared on his father's face.

  "Now," he said.

  "Show me your chakra control."

  Reiji stood still for a moment before finally stepping forward.

  He pced one foot cautiously onto the pond.

  The surface bent beneath his weight.

  Water wasn't like bark or stone. It didn't hold shape. It shifted and flowed, pushing outward in ripples with every movement. His chakra spread from the sole of his foot instinctively, searching for something stable to grip.

  Too little.

  His foot sank slightly.

  Reiji closed his eyes.

  He focused on the flow of chakra through his body—and on the movement beneath him.

  The water wasn't resisting him.

  It was moving.

  Constantly shifting, adjusting to every disturbance.

  His chakra had to move with it.

  Slowly, carefully, he adjusted the flow, matching the subtle rhythm of the water beneath his foot.

  The sinking stopped.

  His foot stabilized.

  Reiji opened his eyes.

  Then he took another step.

  And another.

  A few moments ter he was walking calmly across the pond's surface as though it were solid stone. The water rippled gently beneath his sandals but never broke. He crossed the pond and stepped onto the opposite bank where his father waited.

  "Easy," Reiji said.

  One of his father's eyebrows lifted slightly.

  Then the cane moved.

  Tap.

  "Ow—"

  Spsh.

  Cold water swallowed him instantly.

  Reiji surfaced a moment ter, sputtering and coughing as water dripped down his hair and soaked into his clothes.

  "Well," his father said calmly from the bank, "your control is acceptable for now."

  He paused before adding,

  "We will have to work on it a great deal more if you want to do it without thinking."

  Reiji wiped water from his face and gred up at him.

  "Can you not just let me have my moment?" he muttered. "I know you're impressed."

  He reached for the stone edge of the pond.

  His fingers touched the rock.

  Tap.

  The cane struck his knuckles.

  "Hey—!"

  Spsh.

  Reiji went under again.

  He resurfaced moments ter with a furious gasp.

  This time he didn't reach for the stones.

  Instead his palms spped ft against the water.

  For a brief instant they sank.

  Then his chakra surged.

  The water bent under his hands but did not break. Ripples spread outward as his chakra pressed down through his palms and distributed across the surface.

  Reiji shoved downward.

  His body rose smoothly out of the pond, water streaming from his clothes as he pushed himself upright. Chakra flowed through his knee, then his feet, stabilizing him once more on the surface of the pond.

  He stood there dripping, gring at his father.

  His father observed him quietly.

  "Hm."

  Reiji crossed his arms.

  "You did that on purpose."

  His father rested both hands on his cane.

  "Yes."

  Reiji narrowed his eyes.

  "You're enjoying this."

  "Moderately."

  ---

  The walk to the Academy was quiet.

  The morning streets of Konoha were already busy—shopkeepers opening shutters, shinobi crossing rooftops, civilians beginning the slow rhythm of the day—but the space around Reiji remained strangely empty. Children walking in groups shifted aside when they noticed him coming. A pair of boys who had been ughing together suddenly lowered their voices as he passed. Conversations thinned, then resumed behind him in cautious murmurs.

  Reiji noticed, of course. It was impossible not to. The slight hesitation when someone recognized him, the way people created just a little more distance than necessary. But he had long since stopped reacting to it. The feeling had become familiar—like walking through a patch of cold shade that never quite left him.

  He ignored it and continued toward the Academy.

  By the time he entered the cssroom, it was already half full. Voices bounced softly around the wooden room as small groups of students talked before the instructor arrived. Chairs scraped against the floor, someone ughed too loudly near the back, and the faint smell of ink and paper hung in the air.

  Reiji stepped inside and let his gaze sweep across the room.

  Near the windows, he noticed a familiar fsh of red hair.

  Kushina sat with her usual group, leaning slightly over her desk while speaking animatedly with the others. Mikoto sat beside her, listening with quiet attention while the rest of the girls contributed occasional comments. The sunlight from the window lit the edge of Kushina's hair, making it stand out like a small fme among the darker heads around her.

  Reiji walked past their group.

  Then, without breaking stride, he said casually,

  "Hey, Tomato Head."

  Kushina spun around instantly.

  Her fist shot forward with absolutely no hesitation.

  Reiji caught it easily.

  His hand closed around her wrist before the punch had fully extended, stopping it a few inches from his face. The movement was almost effortless, like catching a thrown ball.

  "Woah," he said mildly. "What was that for?"

  Kushina's face was already turning red.

  "Stop calling me that!"

  Reiji tilted his head slightly as he studied her, his expression thoughtful in the way of someone observing an interesting experiment.

  "I'll stop," he said, "when you stop going red like that every time I say it. It's hirious."

  "You—!"

  Reiji raised an eyebrow.

  "Careful," he added calmly. "The Boiling Tomato is about to explode again."

  Kushina's eye twitched.

  Her free hand clenched into a fist.

  Before she could unch herself at him again, Mikoto sighed loudly beside her.

  "Will you stop, Reiji?" she said, sounding tired already. "I really don't know why Kushina even bothers speaking to you. It's mean."

  Reiji looked at her, genuinely confused.

  "What? Why is it mean? It's true."

  Mikoto rolled her eyes and turned back toward Kushina.

  "You can't react every time he says something," she expined patiently. "That's why he keeps doing it. He's a bully. He's looking for a reaction."

  Kushina's fists tightened again.

  For a moment it looked like she might explode anyway.

  Then she huffed loudly, turned her head away with visible effort, and refused to look at Reiji any longer.

  Reiji shrugged and released her wrist.

  Then he walked to his seat.

  That had become their new dynamic.

  Reiji genuinely wanted to get closer to Kushina. The intention itself was real enough. But being himself meant he couldn't resist provoking her whenever the opportunity appeared. Once he realized how easily she reacted—how quickly irritation fred across her face—the temptation had become impossible to ignore.

  It was simply too amusing.

  Still, things were better than before.

  After their first real interaction—the day he had helped her during css—Reiji occasionally assisted her when the opportunity appeared. Sometimes it was with small things during lessons. Sometimes it was advice during training. None of it dramatic. Just enough that the distance between them slowly softened.

  One afternoon during sparring practice, he ended up paired with one of her friends, Shirakawa Aya.

  Normally Reiji would have ended the match quickly. Most of the students simply couldn't keep up with him, and he had little patience for dragging things out. But that day he held back deliberately.

  Instead of overwhelming her, he corrected her stance mid-exchange, shifting her footing with a tap of his own and pointing out the way her weight was leaning too far forward. When the exercise ended, he even gave her a short piece of advice about her guard.

  The girl had looked genuinely surprised.

  She hadn't known what to say.

  In the end she simply nodded and muttered a quiet "thanks" before walking away.

  Reiji barely reacted.

  But when he gnced toward Kushina's group afterward, he noticed she had been watching the exchange.

  For a brief moment Kushina gave him a small smile.

  It was quick, almost teasing, like she was acknowledging something she hadn't expected from him.

  Beside her, Mikoto had been watching as well.

  Her gaze lingered longer than the others. Thoughtful. Measuring.

  As if she were trying to understand something that didn't quite fit with the picture she had formed of him.

  Even without changing his personality—or becoming any more sociable than before—Kushina and her group slowly became more tolerant of his presence. The wariness that had once surrounded him had faded somewhat.

  Which suited Reiji just fine.

  Although Mikoto still watched him with occasional suspicious gnces.

  And even if things had improved slightly with Kushina, it wasn't quite the same with Nawaki.

  The Senju boy was not the type to care about rumors or reputation. Social tension meant very little to him. What interested Nawaki was something much simpler.

  Reiji was stronger than him.

  That alone was enough for Nawaki to see him as a rival.

  The few times Reiji tried to help him the way he sometimes did with Kushina, Nawaki refused immediately. His pride stiffened his posture every time the offer appeared.

  'A Senju didn't need help.'

  Which left them in an odd position.

  Not hostile.

  But not friendly either.

  Outside of training they barely spoke.

  Nawaki spent most of his time with Enji Sarutobi.

  Reiji was willing to do many things to make his father proud.

  But befriending Enji was not one of them.

  And he preferred not to think too deeply about why.

  ---

  The rest of the day passed without anything particurly remarkable.

  Reiji followed the lessons with the same steady attention he usually gave them, though nothing demanded much effort. The hours passed quietly until the instructor finally dismissed them for the day.

  By the time the students began gathering their things, the sunlight outside had softened toward evening. The long shadows of the buildings stretched across the courtyard beyond the windows.

  Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags were gathered. Conversations resumed the moment the teacher left the room.

  Reiji stood and joined the slow flow of students moving toward the corridor.

  The Academy hallway filled quickly as several csses emptied at once. Groups formed naturally—friends leaving together, voices rising as the structure of the school day loosened.

  Reiji walked with the others until he noticed something ahead.

  The movement in the corridor had slowed.

  A loose half-circle of students had formed, blocking the path.

  Reiji stopped a few steps away.

  At the center of the gathering stood Arata.

  Murmurs rippled through the hallway as more students noticed him.

  Arata hadn't been seen at school for days.

  Mikoto stepped forward immediately, pushing through the edge of the small crowd.

  "Arata?" she said. "Are you okay? Where were you?"

  Arata rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

  "Huh—yeah, Mikoto. Sorry." He shifted slightly, avoiding several curious stares. "I was… grounded."

  "Grounded?" Mikoto repeated, her brows drawing together. "Why?"

  Arata hesitated.

  "Later, Mikoto. Sorry."

  Then he stepped past her.

  The students instinctively parted as he moved forward.

  He stopped directly in front of Reiji.

  For a moment he simply looked at him.

  Reiji raised an eyebrow.

  Then suddenly Arata bowed.

  Deeply.

  "Sorry!"

  The corridor fell silent.

  Even the students who had been whispering stopped talking.

  Mikoto blinked in surprise.

  Reiji blinked as well.

  "Sorry for what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

  Arata did not straighten.

  "For ambushing you," he said, his voice tight with embarrassment. "And for being a coward in the forest. I am ashamed of myself… and of shaming my cn."

  Murmurs spread quietly through the watching students.

  Reiji stared down at the bowed boy.

  This was new.

  Insults he understood. Threats, fights, challenges—those things were simple. They followed rules he knew how to answer.

  But this?

  Someone apologizing.

  He had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

  Part of him wanted to refuse immediately. The memory of the ambush in the forest was still fresh, and the apology did not erase the fact that Arata had tried to stab him.

  But refusing would be… inconvenient.

  Reiji's eyes shifted briefly to the surrounding students.

  They were all watching.

  Listening.

  This was not a private conversation anymore.

  He could already imagine how it would look if he rejected the apology—arrogant, vindictive, impossible to deal with. The exact kind of behavior that would reinforce the rumors people already whispered about him.

  And he had just started making progress.

  Kushina's group had begun tolerating him. Some of the students had stopped avoiding him quite so openly. Even small improvements mattered.

  Rejecting Arata here would undo that.

  It would isote him again.

  And isotion was the opposite of what he needed.

  If he wanted allies… if he wanted connections… if he wanted to make his father proud of him for once…

  Then he had to py this correctly.

  Reiji cleared his throat.

  "Well… it's good that you know that," he said slowly.

  "I suppose… I forgive you?"

  The st part came out sounding slightly uncertain, as though he was still deciding whether the words made sense.

  Arata bowed even deeper.

  "Thank you."

  "That is kind of you."

  The new voice came from behind Arata.

  Reiji turned his head.

  A teenager stepped forward through the gathered students. He was clearly older than the Academy children around him—taller, more composed. Dark hair framed a sharp, controlled expression, and a shinobi protector rested across his forehead.

  A genin.

  The Uchiha crest was stitched clearly across the back of his shirt.

  "You are…?" Reiji asked.

  "Fugaku Uchiha," the boy replied calmly.

  His hand settled lightly on Arata's shoulder.

  "This idiot's older brother."

  Arata muttered something under his breath.

  Reiji gestured toward him.

  "So this was your idea?"

  Fugaku shook his head.

  "Arata confessed when he returned home wounded with his friends," he said. "Whatever differences you had, it doesn't excuse his conduct. He was grounded and had time to reflect."

  Fugaku inclined his head slightly.

  "I also apologize. It seems my parents and I did not raise him properly."

  Reiji tilted his head.

  "Why are you apologizing?" he asked. "You're his brother, not his parents."

  Fugaku didn't seem offended.

  "Being the older brother means acting like a parent sometimes," he replied calmly. "We are supposed to guide the younger ones. If he goes down the wrong path, then I have failed to correct him."

  Reiji studied him silently for a moment.

  Fugaku continued.

  "Also… though it may not be pleasant to say, thanks to you my brother gained something valuable."

  Reiji's gaze drifted toward Arata.

  The memory of the forest returned clearly—the fsh of red eyes in the dim light between the trees.

  He smirked faintly.

  "Well, that surprised me too," he admitted. "Good for him, I guess."

  He gnced back at Fugaku.

  "Is it rare to awaken it that young?"

  "Yes," Fugaku answered.

  Before he could eborate further, Arata straightened and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

  "I awakened it earlier than my brother," he said with a small chuckle. "So… you could say it's impressive."

  Fugaku gave his brother a brief look but didn't comment.

  "Our father wished to apologize as well," he continued, turning back to Reiji. "And to thank you for what happened. Our cn considers it a debt. If there is anything we can do for you, tell us."

  Reiji considered the offer for a moment.

  Then a slow grin spread across his face.

  "Well," he said, "why not? I'd like to visit the Uchiha compound sometime."

  He looked at Arata.

  "And maybe have a spar with him."

  Then his gaze shifted back to Fugaku.

  "Or with you. I'm curious about those famous eyes of yours."

  Fugaku raised one eyebrow.

  Beside him, Arata groaned.

  "Told you," he muttered. "He's a fighting lunatic."

  Fugaku ignored him.

  "Very well," he said calmly. "Come to the entrance of the Uchiha compound on Saturday morning. We will welcome you."

  "Perfect," Reiji replied with a smile.

  Fugaku nodded once before turning away. Arata followed him, gncing back briefly before disappearing into the corridor.

  The gathered students slowly dispersed once Fugaku and Arata left. Conversations resumed, quieter than before, the excitement of the scene still lingering in the corridor.

  Reiji turned toward Mikoto.

  "See?" he said with a smirk. "I'm innocent. You can apologize now."

  Mikoto's face reddened instantly.

  "That doesn't count!" she snapped. "You lied to me! You said you weren't the reason Arata was missing from css!"

  "Maybe," Reiji replied calmly. "But you accused me of doing something terrible to him. As you just saw, I'm the victim here."

  Mikoto opened her mouth.

  Then closed it again.

  Without another word she turned sharply and walked away.

  Reiji watched her go.

  "Ah," he said, shaking his head slightly.

  "What a sore loser."

  But even as he said it, he remembered the way she had looked at him just before leaving.

  Not convinced.

  Not fooled either.

  Just… thinking.

  Reiji tilted his head slightly.

  Interesting.

  ---

  Reiji returned home as the evening settled quietly over the compound.

  The sun had already dipped low behind the rooftops of Konoha, leaving long shadows stretching across the garden stones. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and cooling wood, and the surface of the pond reflected the fading sky like a dull mirror of gold and gray.

  His father was already outside.

  Homura stood near the wooden veranda with his cane resting lightly against the ground. He seemed to be watching the garden, though whether his attention was on the water, the trees, or something else entirely was difficult to tell.

  Reiji stepped onto the stone path.

  "I'm back."

  His father acknowledged the words with a single nod.

  The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was simply the way things were between them.

  Reiji shifted his weight slightly before speaking again.

  "I will be visiting the Uchiha compound this weekend."

  His father turned his head just enough to look at him.

  "Why?"

  "They invited me."

  A short pause followed.

  Reiji scratched the back of his head.

  "Because I'm nice."

  His father looked at him.

  The silence that followed carried the quiet weight of absolute disbelief.

  Reiji cleared his throat.

  "Anyway," he continued quickly, "I'm going to spar with them."

  His eyes brightened slightly as he said it.

  "They have the Sharingan. It should be interesting."

  The memory returned immediately.

  The forest.

  The sudden movement behind him. The fsh of red eyes appearing in the darkness. The speed of Arata's attack the moment those eyes had awakened.

  Reiji smirked faintly.

  He wanted to see it again.

  This time properly.

  "Everyone says those eyes are incredible," he added. "I want to see if the rumors are true."

  His father studied him for a moment.

  Then he nodded.

  "That will be a useful experience," he said calmly. "Whether you win or lose."

  Reiji frowned slightly.

  His father continued.

  "You will better understand the Uchiha. And if you one day serve beside one of them as a teammate, that knowledge will matter."

  Reiji shrugged.

  "Sure."

  His father reached into the sleeve of his robe.

  When his hand emerged again, he was holding a small square of paper.

  Reiji blinked.

  "What's that?"

  "Chakra paper."

  Reiji straightened immediately.

  "Wait—does that mean I'm going to learn a jutsu?"

  His father inclined his head slightly.

  "Yes."

  Reiji's grin spread quickly across his face.

  "But first," his father continued, "we need to confirm something."

  Reiji tilted his head.

  "I have a suspicion," Homura said calmly. "If it is correct, things may become… complicated."

  Reiji's eyes lit up in sudden understanding.

  "Do you mean—"

  "Yes," his father replied.

  "We will finally see."

  He extended the small sheet of paper toward him.

  "Affinities are, for the most part, hereditary. You may have the same nature as I do."

  "Earth."

  He paused briefly before continuing.

  "Or the same as her."

  Reiji flinched slightly at the mention.

  "Or," his father finished, "a combination of both."

  Reiji took a slow breath.

  The paper waited between them.

  Then he nodded.

  "What do I have to do?"

  "Take the paper," his father said, "and pour your chakra into it."

  Reiji accepted the small square of paper between his fingers.

  It felt almost weightless. Thin. Ordinary. Just a fragile sheet of fiber that looked like it would crumble if he pressed too hard. Yet he could feel faint traces of chakra inside it already, like a prepared surface waiting to react.

  His father watched him quietly from the veranda, hands resting on the handle of his cane.

  Reiji focused.

  He drew chakra from the center of his body, letting it flow down his arm and into his fingertips. The sensation was familiar now—like guiding a stream through narrow channels, careful not to let it spill or surge too violently. Chakra control was still something he had to think about, but it no longer felt unstable.

  Slowly, he released the energy into the paper.

  The reaction was immediate.

  A thin tearing sound split the quiet of the garden.

  The paper ripped cleanly down the middle, the tear running like a seam through the fibers. At the same time, moisture began spreading across the surface, darkening the sheet in irregur patches as though it had been dipped into water.

  Reiji blinked.

  He lifted the paper slightly, watching the dampness crawl outward through the fibers.

  "Wind… and water?" he said slowly.

  That part he understood. Chakra papers were supposed to react like this. Each nature produced a different effect. Wind cut. Water soaked. If both appeared, it meant he possessed both affinities.

  But the reaction did not stop.

  The damp paper stiffened between his fingers.

  At first he thought it was simply drying in the cool morning air, but then the surface changed again. A faint white shimmer crept across the fibers, spreading slowly from the point where his chakra entered the sheet.

  The air around his hand grew colder.

  Reiji felt it immediately—the subtle shift in temperature brushing against the skin of his fingers, the quiet bite of cold forming around the paper.

  Frost.

  A thin yer of white crystallized across the damp fibers. The moisture froze where it y, delicate patterns branching outward like tiny veins of ice spreading through the sheet.

  Reiji stared at it.

  The paper trembled slightly between his fingers as the frost continued creeping outward.

  For a moment he forgot to breathe.

  The garden had fallen completely silent. Even the faint sounds from the street beyond the walls seemed distant now, swallowed by the stillness around them.

  His father had not moved.

  Homura watched the frost slowly spreading across the paper, his expression calm but very still. His gaze lingered on the thin white yer forming over the damp surface, as though confirming something he had suspected but hoped not to see.

  A long silence followed.

  Reiji's thoughts raced.

  Wind.

  Water.

  And then—

  Ice.

  His fingers tightened slightly around the paper.

  He already knew what that meant.

  Across from him, his father finally exhaled quietly.

  "So that's how it is."

  The words were calm, but something heavier sat beneath them.

  Homura's eyes shifted from the frozen paper to Reiji's face. For a brief moment, his expression softened with something that almost resembled resignation.

  "It seems," he said slowly, "you take after your mother more than I hoped."

  The frost continued to spread across the paper in Reiji's hand.

  A/N: I'll be completely honest—the main reason I started writing this Naruto fanfiction is because I had an itch to scratch. There just aren't enough ice users in Naruto fanfics… and I genuinely don't understand why. Ice powers are cool. Literally.Thanks a lot for reading the story! I always enjoy seeing your comments and theories, so feel free to tell me what you think.

  Also, if you want to read ahead, I have a where I've already uploaded up to Chapter 13.

  See you soon!