Sparks of Clan Discussion

Realizing that rice balls needed time too made Kiyo smug for half the day. But when it came time to fetch water, slowing down and listening to others talk was not so easy.

The water station in East Row Two was the easiest place to overhear discussions.

Buckets stood beside the wooden racks, and there was always a rush of people in the morning and evening. Adults might not say much in front of children, but the sound of water, footsteps, waiting, and exhaustion let topics slip through the cracks. Uchiha Che had only come to help Nao carry half a bucket of water, yet in less than a quarter hour, he heard three different whispered conversations.

The first was about patrols.

"They changed shifts again last night," a young clansman said. "Konoha's people are standing guard like they know the place better than our Military Police Force."

Another lowered his voice. "Don't say that here."

"We can't even say it here? In our own new home?"

Our own new home.

Those few words carried sparks.

Che stood at the back of the line, gripping the handle of a small bucket. Kiyo counted the empty buckets on the wooden rack beside him, then lost track after five. Saori hugged her doll, its bell wrapped in cloth so it would not ring.

The second was about the Military Police Force.

"How much longer is the clan head going to keep negotiating?"

"Lord Fugaku has his difficulties."

"Difficulties? We were moved here, and now we're supposed to thank them for giving us new houses?"

The water station fell silent for a moment.

Old Sosuke stood at the front, leaning on his cane. Then he suddenly spoke. "Carry the water."

The speaker's expression stiffened.

Sosuke did not turn around. "Your bucket's empty, but your mouth is already full."

It was harsh, but it pressed those sparks down. The young clansman lowered his head, carried his water, and said no more.

Che watched Sosuke's back and realized the old man was not unbothered. He simply knew that when sparks landed in a place like the water station, children would be the first to get burned.

The third was about children.

"The academy roster is out."

"Send the children to Konoha Ninja Academy to learn what they teach?"

"Then what, you want them to grow up without even learning the basic Three Body Techniques?"

"The clan can teach them."

"The clan can teach them, but how will the village record it?"

After that, no one replied.

Che lowered his head and looked at his reflection in the bucket. The rippling surface made his face blurry. The academy was not merely a place to study; it was also part of Konoha's system. Going meant being watched. Not going might mean being marked as distant. Neither path was clean.

Kiyo asked quietly, "Che, why does the water keep shaking?"

"Because everyone is carrying buckets."

"Isn't it because it's scared?"

Che looked at Kiyo.

Kiyo's eyes were earnest. He did not understand the adults' politics, but he could sense that the atmosphere was wrong. Sometimes children understood danger not through words, but through the air.

Che said, "Water is easily affected."

"Then how do we stop it from shaking?"

"Walk more slowly."

They carried the water back to East Row Two. Kiyo walked very slowly, as if carrying out an important mission. The water still rippled, but none of it spilled. Saori walked beside them, the bell on her doll wrapped up and silent.

When they returned to the house, Nao took the bucket and saw Che's expression. "You heard them?"

"The water station was lively," Che said.

"Lively isn't a good word."

"Then it was very educational."

Nao sighed. "Now do you understand why I don't let you run around?"

Che nodded.

It was not because the roads were dangerous, nor only because Konoha shinobi were watching them. The clan's own emotions were heating up as well. Resentment, grievance, vigilance, doubts about Fugaku, hesitation over the academy—all of it was like little sparks falling into every corner of the new district. They had not caught fire yet, but the wind kept blowing.

During afternoon training, Jian's expression was darker than usual.

He had the children practice carrying water in a straight line. Each person carried half a bucket from one end of the wooden posts to the other, and those who spilled the least passed. The moment Kiyo heard the word "water," he grew nervous.

Che whispered, "Walk slowly, and the water won't be so scared."

Kiyo nodded, serious as if he were escorting critical intelligence.

When it was Che's turn, he carried the bucket without rushing. Wind came from the side, making the water's surface sway. He adjusted his wrist, doing his best not to let the bucket swing wildly with his steps. The exercise was harder than it looked. His arm ached, his shoulder ached, and the loose stones underfoot kept shifting his balance. When he reached the end, only a little water had spilled.

Jian glanced at him. "Not bad."

Che put down the bucket. "The water reports emotional stability."

Jian said, "Your mouth is not very stable."

Kiyo could not hold back his laughter and spilled two drops of his own water.

After training, Jian told them to sit down.

"You may have heard some adults talking today," he said. "Hearing it does not mean you should immediately learn to repeat it. Children are not without a position, but if you make other people's anger your own too early, you will not walk steadily."

Che looked up.

Jian was not looking at him, yet it sounded as though he were speaking directly to him.

"Train your footing first. Once your footing is steady, you'll know where you should stand in the future."

That evening, Che wrote in his notes:

"Water station discussions: patrols, clan head, academy."

"Sosuke suppressed an argument."

"Jian's reminder: Don't make other people's anger your own too early."

After writing that, he added:

"The sparks are already there, but they have not caught fire yet."

That sentence made him think of Fire Release kindling.

Fire liked to follow an easy path.

Resentment did too.

That night, the argument at the water station did not entirely fade away.

While Che was writing inside, he heard people pass outside with their voices lowered. Their words came in fragments, only a few slipping through: patrols, clan head, Hokage Office, academy. Nao pulled the door shut. The motion was not forceful, but it blocked those words outside.

"Stop listening," she said.

Che looked down at the paper. "They run into my ears on their own."

"Then write something else."

"Write what?"

Nao thought for a moment. "Write down how many drops Kiyo spilled today."

Kiyo poked his head out from under the blanket. "Why am I the one again?"

"Because you spilled some," Nao said.

Kiyo ducked back under the blanket and argued softly, "It was only two drops."

Che wrote: Kiyo spilled two drops of water today and claimed the bucket moved first.

Kiyo protested at once, "I didn't say that last part!"

"I was helping you express yourself more fully."

Saori laughed softly beside them, and her bell rang with it. The whispers outside continued, but the sounds inside the house pushed them farther away.

Che suddenly understood that Nao was not unaware of the sparks outside. She was simply trying to keep the children's nights from being lit entirely by them.

Perhaps that was how one fought while caring for others.

No kunai, no Fire Release—just closing the door and having children write about two drops of water.

The next day, the water station was a little quieter.

Sosuke sat at the entrance, his cane laid across his knees like a rather unfriendly paperweight. When young clansmen passed by, words reached their lips and were swallowed again. Carrying his bucket, Che saw that Sosuke was not looking at anyone, yet everyone passing knew that he could hear them.

Kiyo asked softly, "Is Grandpa Sosuke patrolling?"

Che glanced at the old man. "The civilian version."

"What version?"

"Patrolling while sitting down."

Sosuke's eyes opened to a slit. "I heard that."

Che immediately lowered his head. "I was praising your efficiency."

The old man snorted but did not scold him. The mood around the water station loosened by half a degree. As Che carried water back, he suddenly understood that some sparks were not put out with water. Sometimes an old man simply had to sit there and remind everyone that they were still in front of children.

That afternoon, Jian had the children replace their water buckets with empty ones and walk the same route.

Empty buckets were light, yet harder to keep steady. At first, Kiyo thought it would be easier. Instead, the bucket swung from side to side, knocking against its wooden handle with dull thumps. Jian said, "Sometimes light things are harder to steady. Anger is the same."

When those words fell, the training ground grew a little quieter. Even the wind seemed to slow by half a beat.

Che carried the empty bucket past the wooden posts and heard a hollow echo from inside it. Suddenly, he understood that the clan's discussions were like that. The truly heavy things—casualties and relocation—were buried deep in their hearts. What made the loudest noise outside were the empty spaces that had yet to find somewhere to settle.

In his notes, he changed "remind everyone that they were still in front of children" to "remind those who spoke that children were beside them too." That was more accurate, and less certain.

At the end of training, Kiyo put the empty bucket upside down on his head and said he could hear echoes that way. Jian made him take it off immediately. Che tried not to laugh beside him, while Saori's bell gave a soft ring. The laughter was small, but it pushed the gloom brought by the water station a little farther away.

The sound of water fell softly.