Registration Behind the Masks

Konoha's registration ninja arrived that morning.

The temporary basic lesson had just ended, and the children had not yet had time to disperse. In the yard outside the old warehouse, sunlight fell across the half-charred locust tree, its shadow stretching over the ground like cracks left by fire. Nao was talking to Mine, Kiyo was squatting by the steps watching ants carry a grain of rice, and Saori sat nearby sewing a second ear onto her doll.

Uchiha Che was studying his hands with his head lowered.

He was not circulating chakra; he was merely looking at the lines in his palms. Yesterday, he had discovered that whenever he saw a jutsu formula or a display of chakra, the door in his mind would move on its own. Today, he tried doing the opposite—filling his attention with ordinary, dull things that held no value for ninjutsu.

Like palm lines.

After staring at them for a long time, he came to only one conclusion.

A four-year-old's hands really were tiny.

Footsteps sounded at the courtyard gate.

They were not Uchiha footsteps.

The ninja in the Uchiha compound mostly walked with a similar rhythm—light, steady, controlled in where they placed their feet. The people outside the gate also walked quietly, but theirs was the deliberately trained silence of stealth, lacking the familiar rhythm of the clan's ninja.

Uchiha Che did not look up.

He first saw Kiyo freeze.

Then Nao and Mine fell silent.

Only then did Che slowly raise his eyes.

Three Konoha ninja stood at the courtyard gate.

The one in front was dressed like an ordinary chunin and held a scroll and brush. The two behind him wore masks, gray-white animal masks concealing their faces. One was tall and the other short, and their ninja swords hung at identical positions on their waists.

Anbu.

The children in the yard visibly grew tense. Kiyo nearly stepped on his own shoelace when he stood up, while Saori hugged her doll to her chest, the needle still stuck in its cloth.

The ordinary chunin bowed first to Mine and Nao.

"By order of the Hokage Office, we are supplementing the records for casualties after the Nine-Tails attack, orphan placement, and temporary guardianship within the clans. We need to verify the roster."

The Hokage Office.

It sounded very clean.

Clean as a freshly replaced sheet of paper.

But as Uchiha Che looked at the scroll in the chunin's hand, another word surfaced in his mind.

Files.

The ninja world placed great importance on records. Birth, bloodline, chakra affinity, academy performance, mission records, casualties. Once many things were written down, they became the basis upon which others judged you.

An Uchiha orphan's name being written onto a Konoha scroll would not necessarily bring danger right away.

But it would bring him into certain people's field of view.

No change showed on Mine's face.

"The clan's casualty roster has already been submitted to the Police Force for compilation."

The chunin remained polite. "The village needs to verify it directly. The Hokage has resumed overseeing affairs, and all post-Nine-Tails placement matters require unified records."

"Is it the same for every clan?"

Mine's question was even.

The chunin paused for only an instant.

"All affected areas are treated the same."

It was a steady answer, but a slippery one.

Uchiha Che lowered his head, seeming to fiddle with the edge of his clothes while taking in every reaction in the yard. Nao's fingers pressed against the roster scroll, Mine's gaze rested on the Anbu masks, and several clan ninja stood beneath the corridor eaves. They did not approach, but neither did they leave.

The atmosphere was like a thin thread slowly being drawn taut.

The chunin began calling names.

"Uchiha Kiyo."

Kiyo's face went pale when he was called. He walked to the table, his voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible.

"Here."

"Age?"

"Three."

"Parents?"

Kiyo's lips began to tremble.

Nao stepped half a pace forward. "His mother is alive. His father, Uchiha Ryota, is missing and awaiting confirmation."

The chunin wrote it down.

The scratch of brush against paper was especially clear in the yard.

"Temporary guardian?"

"Uchiha Nao."

"Injuries?"

"No obvious external injuries. He was frightened and requires observation."

Kiyo returned with his head lowered and stood beside Che, his fingers tightly clutching his clothes.

Uchiha Che did not look at him. He merely brushed the back of Kiyo's hand.

As though he had caught hold of something, Kiyo's breathing gradually steadied.

One name after another was called.

Both of Saori's parents had been confirmed dead. She was registered as a clan orphan, with Nao likewise listed as her temporary guardian. The chunin asked whether she was injured, and Saori shook her head. Then the shorter Anbu suddenly spoke.

"What is that doll in her hands?"

His voice was muffled through the mask.

Saori hugged the doll tighter.

Nao's expression cooled. "A keepsake."

"Record it."

The chunin lowered his head and wrote a line.

A chill crept into Uchiha Che's heart.

Even the doll had to be recorded.

Perhaps it was simply Anbu habit, perhaps it was post-disaster screening, but either way, it was unpleasant. In their eyes, even a child holding a doll was an irregularity that needed to be written onto a scroll.

Soon, it was his turn.

"Uchiha Che."

Che stepped forward.

He slowed his pace so he would not appear too steady. As he stood before the table, he drew in his right shoulder slightly, as though the wound still affected his movements.

The chunin looked up at him.

"Age?"

"Four."

"Your father, Uchiha Cheng, has been confirmed dead. Your mother, Uchiha Yehyue, has been confirmed dead. Correct?"

"Correct."

When the word left his mouth, Che heard that his voice was steadier than he had expected.

The chunin gave him a look before continuing. "Current temporary residence?"

"House Number Three on the north side."

"Temporary guardian?"

Nao spoke. "I am caring for him for now."

The chunin wrote it down.

The taller Anbu suddenly asked, "During last night's evacuation, did you save a child?"

The courtyard fell even quieter.

Uchiha Che was not surprised.

So it had been recorded.

He raised his head toward the Anbu mask, letting a hint of hesitation show on his face.

"When I fell down, I bumped into him."

The Anbu did not speak immediately.

The chunin checked the scroll. "The record says that you predicted where the falling wooden beam would land in advance."

"I saw it falling," Che said. "It was big, bright, and on fire. It wasn't hard to see."

It sounded a little childish, but also reasonable.

The Anbu continued, "Why did you throw yourself in that direction?"

Che thought for a moment. "Because if I jumped somewhere else, I might only have fallen on myself."

Kiyo suddenly looked up. "He saved me!"

"Nao spoke softly. "Kiyo."

Kiyo bit his lip, his eyes reddening again.

Uchiha Che sighed inwardly.

This child was honestly too honest for his own good.

Che lowered his head and softened his voice. "I don't know either. I didn't think that much at the time."

That was true.

He really had not thought it through completely. His body had moved faster than words. It was just that his "didn't think that much" included observing the landing point, judging the distance, and instinctive survival, while an ordinary child's "didn't think that much" might have meant only fear.

The Anbu watched him.

Che felt the gaze behind that mask like something peeling away sheets of paper.

He did not raise his head to confront it, nor did he offer further explanations. Too much explanation would seem fabricated. Silence sometimes seemed more childlike.

Mine suddenly spoke. "His father's records stated that Che had nimble fingers and good reactions. Last night was merely a child's survival instinct."

The chunin looked at Mine.

Mine's tone did not change. "If the village needs it, the clan can provide copies of the family records."

At last, the Anbu looked away.

"Record it as a stress response during evacuation."

The chunin wrote down those words.

In his heart, Uchiha Che gave Mine's name a little more weight.

She was not protecting him unconditionally.

But she knew how to return an abnormal event to a reasonable framework.

The registration continued.

When the chunin asked about his injuries, the medical station's records had already been delivered: abrasions on the right shoulder, minor burns, no tendon or bone damage. The Anbu did not question him further.

Before leaving, the shorter Anbu stood at the courtyard gate and glanced back.

That glance swept over the children, Nao, and Mine before finally settling on the wooden target beneath the half-charred locust tree.

"Do not let the children come into contact with dangerous ninjutsu anytime soon," he said.

Mine replied, "The clan has its own arrangements."

The Anbu did not argue.

After the three left, it took a while before sound returned to the courtyard.

Kiyo grabbed Che's sleeve. "Why did they ask you so many questions?"

Che looked toward the courtyard gate.

"Maybe because the way I fell yesterday was too distinctive."

Kiyo obviously did not believe him.

Saori walked over with her doll in her arms. "They asked about my doll too."

"Your doll is pretty special," Che said.

Saori lowered her head to look at it. "It's only burned."

Che was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah," he said. "Even burned, it's still yours."

Saori hugged it tighter.

Nao came over and led the children back beneath the eaves.

"No training today. Go back and rest."

Kiyo asked quietly, "Did we do something wrong?"

Nao crouched down to look at him. "No."

"Then why did they write it down?"

Nao fell silent.

Uchiha Che answered for her. "Because adults are afraid of forgetting, and afraid that other people will forget."

Nao glanced at him.

Kiyo did not fully understand, but the explanation seemed to comfort him somewhat.

After the children dispersed, Mine stopped Che.

Only the two of them remained in the old warehouse. Mine put away the scrolls used that morning in a cabinet, her movements unhurried.

"You answered well today," she said.

Uchiha Che stood by the door. "I thought you would say I talked too much."

"Not today."

"Then that's progress."

Mine turned to look at him.

"Do you know why they questioned you?"

Che did not keep pretending to be foolish.

"Because my reaction last night wasn't like that of an ordinary child."

"And you knew that?"

"A little."

Mine walked over to him and looked down at him. "Then remember this. Saving someone won't always earn you gratitude. And doing well won't always bring you a reward."

Those words were colder than the morning's chakra lesson.

Che nodded.

"I'll remember."

Mine asked again, "Are you afraid?"

Uchiha Che thought for a moment.

"I am," he said. "But being afraid isn't anything new. Things have been pretty busy lately, so it doesn't rank very high."

Mine watched him for a while.

"That mouth of yours really does invite trouble."

"Aunt Nao says the same thing."

"She's right."

Che sighed. "Looks like that assessment has become a consensus."

Mine did not continue lecturing him. She took out a blank sheet of paper from the cabinet and placed it on the table.

"Write down the questions the Anbu asked you today. You can use symbols for any words you can't write."

Uchiha Che froze.

"Why?"

"Because memories change," Mine said. "Things you remember while afraid may become distorted after a few days. Write them down, and when you look at them later, you'll know what happened then."

Che looked at the sheet of paper.

It was like homework.

It was also like some kind of means of self-protection.

He walked over and picked up the pen.

Question one: Did you save anyone last night?

Question two: Did you judge where the wooden beam would fall?

Question three: Why did you rush over?

Question four: Injuries.

Question five: Temporary guardianship.

He wrote slowly, but he did not deliberately make his handwriting too poor. Mine stood beside him without urging him.

When he wrote the words "Anbu," Che paused.

Mine said, "Write 'masked ninja.'"

Che did as she said.

After he finished, Mine collected the paper, but instead of putting it into the clan's scrolls, she folded it and handed it to him.

"This is your record, not the clan's."

Uchiha Che accepted the paper.

The sheet was very light.

Yet he suddenly felt that it might prove very useful.

After returning to his room, Che placed the record beneath his father's family records.

His father's records said that his fingers were nimble and that his chakra reserves were not yet remarkable.

Mine had him write down what the masked ninja had asked.

The two documents lay side by side, like two different reminders.

One reminded him whose child he was.

The other reminded him who was watching him.

By evening, some sound had returned to the courtyard. Kiyo and several children were playing a simple stone-tossing game beneath the locust tree, Saori sat on the steps continuing to sew her doll, and Nao was sorting medicine in the kitchen. Uchiha Che did not go outside.

He sat in his room, closed his eyes, and went over the entire Anbu registration process again.

Ordinary chunin were responsible for asking questions. The Anbu were responsible for watching.

The questions appeared to be post-disaster statistics, but their focus fell on orphans, belongings left behind, unusual reactions, and temporary guardianship.

The Hokage Office was a very solid pretext.

But solid did not mean there were no other eyes behind it.

Danzo might not know the name Uchiha Che yet. But Konoha's scrolls circulated, intelligence was copied, orphans were categorized, and bloodline limits were assessed. A record that seemed ordinary now might appear on some colder desk in the future.

Che rubbed his brow.

He was not yet qualified to oppose anyone.

So there was only one choice left.

Make his file look ordinary.

Ordinary enough to have no value.

Ordinary enough that even if someone found it, they would see only an Uchiha child whose parents had both died, whose reactions were a little quick, whose mouth was a little sharp, and who was being cared for by the clan after being injured.

That would be difficult.

Because he truly was not an ordinary child.

There was a knock at the door.

Che put away the record. "Come in."

Nao entered carrying medicine.

"Mine said you did well today."

"That 'well' sounds a little scary."

Nao set down the medicine. "She rarely praises anyone."

"Then should I be proud?"

"No. She also said you need to learn when to shut up."

Che picked up the bowl and looked at the dark medicinal brew.

"That advice is as bitter as this medicine."

"Drink."

Che pinched his nose and drank it down. The bitterness rushed from the back of his tongue straight to the top of his head. He tried to endure it, but still could not stop himself from making a face.

Nao looked at him. "Afraid of bitter medicine?"

"Not afraid." Che set down the bowl. "I just respect its offensive power."

This time, Nao truly smiled, brief and faint.

After smiling, she composed herself again.

"Che, don't think too much about what happened today. Post-disaster registration in the village is bound to be a little chaotic."

"Mm."

"But don't avoid thinking about it entirely," Nao added.

Che looked up.

Nao gazed out the window. "Uchiha children need to learn early how others see them. But don't let how others see you become all that you are."

The words were a little roundabout.

But Che understood.

He said softly, "Aunt Nao, do all you Uchiha speak in ways that are so suited for taking notes?"

Nao sighed. "Only you would respond like that."

"That means I have personal flair."

"Too much personal flair will also make you memorable."

Che immediately shut his mouth.

Nao nodded in satisfaction, collected the bowl, and left.

After night fell, Uchiha Che did not practice chakra.

Today, he needed to quiet his mind.

But the more he tried to be quiet, the more the gaze behind the Anbu mask surfaced in his thoughts. That gaze was unlike the Nine-Tails, and unlike the Fourth Hokage's Flying Raijin. It was neither powerful nor blazing, yet it was like a thin needle, slowly telling him that not all danger in this world lay on the battlefield.

Some dangers came carrying scrolls and pens.

They wrote down your name.

They wrote down your parents.

They wrote down your injuries.

They wrote down that you had saved a child.

They wrote down that you held a burned doll in your hands.

Then they rolled up the paper and placed it somewhere you could not see.

Uchiha Che lay on the tatami, staring at the roof beams in the darkness.

In his old memories, many things had been major events.

The night of the Nine-Tails, the clan massacre, the Chunin Exams, Pain's invasion, the Fourth Shinobi World War.

But what truly made people live uneasily were often the little records, little glances, and little pauses between those major events.

He turned over, putting pressure on his shoulder. Pain made him suck in a breath.

The pain pulled him back from his thoughts.

That was fine.

He did not need to think too far ahead right now.

He still had class tomorrow.

The day after tomorrow, he might have training again.

He still had to keep making his chakra stop more steadily, make his handwriting look reasonable, make his file uninteresting, and keep living between the Uchiha and Konoha like a grain of sand that would not catch under anyone's foot for the time being.

"Be a little more ordinary," he said softly, eyes closed.

After a while, he added, "But don't be so ordinary that you die."

The darkness did not answer.

That was good.

At least there were no masks.