Six months later

After spring arrived, the shadow following him disappeared.

Six months ago, the white mask had followed him seven days a week. In winter, that dropped to three. Around the start of the year, he came once a week, standing beneath the eaves diagonally across the street for half an incense stick before leaving. Once March came, the eaves stood empty for over twenty days straight.

One day, he deliberately lingered at his usual spot, crouching to tie his shoelaces three times. Apart from himself, there was nothing beneath the eaves.

Kiyoshi made a mental note: Disappearing was information, too.

Just like that, half a year passed.

The acceleration card ran out in mid-October. Seven days meant seven days; he couldn't squeeze another day out of it. It worked wonderfully, and he drew a few more afterward. By now, his chakra had firmly reached Genin level.

He remembered the heavy snow in mid-December. The slope outside the Ninja Academy had iced over. Walking to school with his bag on his back, he slipped and slid straight into a side split in front of everyone.

He even landed with a finishing pose: one hand braced against the ground, the other pointing straight at the sky, chin lifted. He held it for three full breaths.

The watching children fell silent, then erupted. Nakajima squeezed into the front row and led the shouting. "Even Bro Hao's falls have style!"

Scenes like that cropped up every so often, earning him a hefty amount of awkwardness value.

Naturally, he drew plenty of things, too. Three mattered most. First was an SSR-Rank item-the Anywhere Door.

Its description thrilled him at first, but one thing was a real shame: it could only bind to one coordinate at a time.

Second was the SR-Rank Substitute Doll, his strongest lifesaving item to date, though he later obtained a Teleportation Technique that worked in tandem with the Anywhere Door.

Third was the SR-Rank Power-Up Pill, another pleasant surprise. Now that he knew the Great Fireball Technique, he could absolutely use it to take down a Chunin.

Of course, he had also polished his Clone Technique over the winter. Now, even his clones' eyelashes were symmetrical.

In class, though, he still toned down his abilities and showed off as usual.

During the test, Iruka circled his clone twice, then circled the real him twice. Finally, after standing stunned for a long while, he said, "Pass."

After that, even Sasuke didn't dare spar with him anymore. He lost by a narrow margin every time, after all. Anyone even a little smarter than Naruto could tell what was going on.

Shisui only kept up the after-school pickups for half a month before switching to meeting once every two weeks. The location varied, but it was usually beneath a bridge downstream on the Naka River.

The crow switched to visiting every Wednesday. It perched on the outer edge of the windowsill to eat bean sprouts, then stayed, tilting its head as it watched him do his homework like a supervisor.

His practice sessions with Izumi continued as usual. Her shuriken throws were more accurate than in autumn; two out of three hit. She came as usual on the day of the heaviest snowfall, her scarf wrapped up beneath her nose. After each round of throws, she breathed on her hands before going to collect the shuriken.

Kiyoshi asked whether she was cold. She said no, then tucked her hands farther into her sleeves. Neither of them called her bluff.

The two of them often ate together at Ichiraku Ramen, and Naruto sometimes treated him.

He really hadn't expected Naruto to have so much money. Only after asking did he learn that Naruto genuinely loved instant noodles. Kiyoshi also discovered that they were all limited editions.

By now, Teuchi remembered that Kiyoshi didn't want cilantro and casually gave him an extra half-ladle of broth.

Life was so uneventful that it made him uneasy.

From his experience in his previous life, there were two kinds of quiet. One meant nothing was wrong. The other meant someone had moved the camera and was watching something else.

He couldn't tell which it was. He attended class, ate his meals, and poured all his remaining energy into training.

No one forced him to train.

Late March, the third day of spring break, on the Back Mountain.

The cherry blossoms had bloomed. Whenever the wind blew, petals fell, leaving a thin, soft layer over the clearing. He cleared a dry patch where his target stood by the Old Locust Tree.

It took three tugs to pull a shuriken out of the wood. Before long, fallen blossoms covered the hole it left, and he had to remember which holes were his.

He had practiced with shuriken for half a year. Once he was consistent at ten meters, he moved back to fifteen, then twenty. The bull's-eye shrank from the size of his palm to the size of a copper coin. He had worn his palms raw twice. They scabbed over, then he wore them raw again. Now, when he clenched his fists, he could feel a layer of hard calluses.

Today, he stood twenty-five meters away.

The wind came through the mountain pass, brushing the backs of his hands first, then his nape. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and gripped the shuriken again. He had poured half of March into those five meters between twenty and twenty-five.

Three shuriken left his hand in quick succession. The first struck the upper left of the bull's-eye, half a finger's width off. The second hit dead center. The third grazed the second's trailing blade as it sank in, making the wooden target sway twice.

The wind stopped for a breath.

Then his body moved on its own. He turned, put his hands behind his back, lifted his chin, and struck a curtain-call pose for the empty forest, standing as though he had just finished an entire performance.

[Awkwardness value +20]

Applause came from behind him, slow and measured.

Shisui sat on a branch of the Old Locust Tree, swinging his legs and twirling a shuriken in his hand-the one Kiyoshi had never managed to throw straight at the ten-meter target.

"You've improved." Shisui jumped down. "From missing the target to driving through its back in half a year. How long did I practice when I was ten? I forget. Longer than you, anyway."

"Who made you practice?"

"I had nothing better to do."

Shisui held out a hand. "Your hands."

Kiyoshi opened his palms. Calluses, two layers, old and new.

"Nothing better to do, and this is where it got you." Shisui pulled a small porcelain jar from inside his clothes and tossed it over. "Apply this. Keep practicing tomorrow morning, but don't wear your skin raw."

Kiyoshi caught it and tucked it into his pocket. The jar still held Shisui's body heat. Up close, it smelled strongly of medicinal herbs, as though its owner had been using it himself.

"Root hasn't been making any moves lately," Shisui said.

"Mm."

"You're not asking why."

"If you want to tell me, you will."

Shisui smiled, but didn't respond to that. The crow dropped from the treetop onto his shoulder, and he fed it a small strip of bean sprout.

"Don't go to the bridge next month," he said abruptly. "We're changing locations. The crow will lead you there."

"Why?"

"Just think of it as a change of location."

"Quiet is a good thing for other people." Shisui looked down the mountain. "Not necessarily for him."

He didn't elaborate. Kiyoshi didn't ask, either. Some questions cost more halfway through than they did left unasked.

"There'll be changes in the new school year." Shisui left those final words hanging in the air. He was already up in the tree, and with another flicker, he vanished. Only cherry blossoms remained, rustling as they fell.

Kiyoshi stood facing the empty tree for a while.

"Couldn't even send a notice."

That evening, he turned to the Ledger Body.

He flipped through it: four hundred eighty awkwardness value, three hundred face value. Neither reached the threshold.

He drew whenever he could, after all. He had tried a few single draws along the way, too, without any pleasant surprises.

And out of all those things, not one could make him stronger immediately, yet he couldn't bear to throw any of them away.

He turned to a fresh page. His pen paused before he wrote the date: Konoha Year 58, late March.

The previous page read: Less than a year until that night.

On this page, he wrote: Less than half a year now.

As the ink dried, a sound came from outside the window.

The crow had arrived. Today wasn't Wednesday.

It passed the outer edge of the windowsill and landed atop the stone lantern by the courtyard's boundary wall, its head facing into the Clan Grounds. It stood there for half a breath, then took flight again, heading deeper into the Clan Grounds without looking back.

Kiyoshi stood at the window and watched the whole thing from beginning to end.

The Back Mountain lay north; the Clan Grounds lay south. For over half a year, this bird had only headed north. Tonight was the first time it flew south.

He sat back down at his desk, turned the Ledger Body back to the page about half a year, and added a line in small writing beneath the one he had just written:

The bird had moved its nest.