Yinglang yielded the peach

Spring, Year 6 of Konoha.

The winter snow had finally melted away. The Naka River thawed, its waters rising and rushing noisily downstream, carrying broken ice and dead branches from the previous winter along with them. In the Uchiha Clan Compound, new buds sprouted from bare branches, their tender green trembling gently in the still-chilly wind.

One winter was enough for many things to settle, and enough for others to ferment and spread.

The story of Uchiha Yinglang breaking through the ice to catch fish in the bitter winter had long since spread throughout the clan.

Never underestimate the intelligence network of elderly men and women.

Now, from the six core elders of the Uchiha Clan down to ordinary clanspeople, servants, and their families, everyone knew of the child from a branch family living at the edge of the compound, a boy of pure filial devotion, sensible and wise beyond his years.

Among the Uchiha, strength was the blade, bloodline was the sheath, and character was the hand that held it. You could lack strength; ability could be cultivated, or built up with resources. But you could not lack integrity. Who would dare nurture someone of poor character? What if you betrayed the clan as soon as you grew powerful? Then there would be nowhere even to cry.

In the sixth year after Konoha's founding, everything was scarce. The first mountain peaches to ripen after spring began became a rare treat. Several clan elders gave the order to distribute them by household, to sweeten everyone's mouths and let them share in the spirit of spring. The peaches were handed out in the small square at the center of the compound, where gatherings were usually held.

Bamboo baskets stood along the foot of a wall, heaped with freshly picked peaches. Some were red across half their faces, while others were still firm and green, and they varied in size. Several ordinary clanspeople handled the distribution, calling names from a register, with children going first.

By the time Uchiha Ning arrived holding Uchiha Yinglang's hand, a noisy crowd had already gathered in the square. Older children flitted around the peach baskets like birds released from cages, their eyes glued to the biggest, reddest fruit as they pushed and jostled, amid the women's gentle scolding of "Slow down" and "Don't grab."

Yinglang stood quietly beside his mother, his hand enclosed in her warm palm. Today he wore a somewhat worn indigo short-sleeved garment, washed pale but clean and neat. His little face was calm, his gaze lowered to the small patch of trampled earth just before his toes.

The line moved slowly forward. Whenever a child stepped up, the clansperson distributing peaches would take one at random from a basket and hand it over. Almost every child immediately sized up the peach upon receiving it. Those given small, green ones could not help their mouths turning down, and only after a light swat on the back of the head from their own elders would they reluctantly clasp them tight.

At last, "Uchiha Ning's household" was called.

The peach distributor was a kindly-looking middle-aged clansman named Uchiha Ken. He had clearly heard Yinglang's name too. Looking up at the fair-skinned child led forward by his mother, he smiled, swept his gaze over the basket, and reached straight for the peach on top-it was as big as an adult's fist, its blush spreading from its tip down its belly, perfectly ripe and standing out among all the peaches in the basket.

"Here, Yinglang, you're growing so fast! You certainly haven't been picky about your food!" Uchiha Ken's voice rang out as he picked up the peach and held it out with a cheerful smile. "Take this one. It's sweet!"

In an instant, many eyes turned toward them. There was undisguised envy from the children, and watchful anticipation from the adults. Uchiha Ning instinctively reached to accept it for her son, but just as her fingers moved, a gentle tug caught her sleeve.

Yinglang raised his head. Rather than looking at the tempting big peach, he looked at Uchiha Ken, then shook his head slowly and distinctly.

"Uncle Ken," he said, his voice quiet and childishly young, but every word clear, "I don't want this one."

Uchiha Ken froze, his hand holding the peach suspended in midair. "Huh? This... this is the biggest and sweetest one."

Yinglang slipped his little hand from his mother's palm and pointed toward a corner of the bamboo basket-several peaches lay there, noticeably smaller, their skins more green than red, with one or two bearing slight bruises.

"I want that one," he said, pointing to the smallest, greenest peach among them. "A small one is fine."

At those words, the hum of conversation around them fell silent for a moment.

Uchiha Ken was even more puzzled. "Why? Isn't a big one better?"

Yinglang turned to face him, and also the gazes drifting toward him from around them. He stood straight, a seriousness at odds with his age on his small face:

"I'm the youngest child. The big peaches should go to the older boys and girls, to the uncles in the clan, and..." He paused, his gaze passing over several women nearby holding even younger children. "To people who need them more. I'm little. A little one is enough for me."

The square fell utterly silent. There was only the rustle of wind through new leaves and the faint sound of the Naka River in the distance.

A few breaths later, conversation erupted, louder than before.

"Good! Well said!" An elderly Uchiha with graying hair was the first to clap, his face full of admiration.

"Did you hear that? Did all of you hear? 'The big peaches should go to those older than me'! That's how a child of our Uchiha Clan should behave!" a middle-aged jonin said sternly to several of his own boys beside him, while glancing at Yinglang out of the corner of his eye.

"No fighting or grabbing, knowing his manners and his place... Madam Ning, you've raised a fine son!" a woman said to Uchiha Ning with a sigh of admiration, her eyes holding a complicated mixture of envy and emotion.

Uchiha Ken recovered. He looked at the child before him, still calm, then at the big peach in his hand, which suddenly seemed rather "hot to handle." He laughed and stopped insisting. Bending down, he picked up the little green peach from the corner of the basket, rubbed it on his sleeve, and solemnly placed it in Yinglang's outstretched little palm.

"Good boy," he said, lowering his voice with an unusual gentleness. "Here you go."

Yinglang accepted the peach with both hands and cradled it in his palms, then bowed slightly toward Uchiha Ken and toward the elders around him whose approving gazes drifted his way.

"Thank you, Uncle Ken."

His manner was natural, without the slightest awkwardness, as though he had chosen not a piece of fruit left over after others had picked, but the share that had always rightfully belonged to him.

Not far away, in the shadows of a covered walkway, Uchiha Gen stood with his hands behind his back, taking in everything.

He was one of the clan's six core elders, responsible for clan rules and punishments. Cold and unyielding by nature, he had lost his wife and children long ago and lived alone for many years. Always stern and unsmiling, he placed great weight on character when judging people and affairs. He had heard of Yinglang fishing in the bitter winter, but had merely taken it as a child's naturally pure filial devotion and paid it little mind. Passing by chance today and witnessing this scene, his desolate eyes, accustomed to life and death and well versed in human hearts, finally stirred with the faintest ripple.

He watched the child quietly carry the green peach back to his mother's side, tilt his little face up, and give her a smile without a trace of gloom. He listened to the clanspeople around them lavish praise, yet the child's face held not the slightest smugness; he simply stood there as obediently as before.

Neither spoiled by favor nor made conceited by praise.

Uchiha Gen fingered a string of cool jade bodhi beads inside his sleeve, his gaze lingering on Yinglang for several breaths. Then he turned soundlessly and disappeared into the depths of the covered walkway. No one knew that a thought, like a seed of spring grass, had fallen into this frozen ground called "attention."

The crowd gradually dispersed.

Uchiha Ning walked home holding her son's hand, her palm slightly damp with sweat. Looking down at the little green peach Yinglang carefully cradled, she felt a surge of emotions she could not put into words: pride, heartache, and, more than anything, a vague unease. She always felt her son was so sensible it hurt, and also... somewhat difficult to see through.

"Langlang," she asked softly, "did you really not want the big peach? That one... really did look sweet."

Yinglang raised his head. Spring sunlight fell across his long eyelashes, casting fine shadows. He lifted the little peach in his hand and examined it against the light, a faint halo reflecting on its green skin.

"Mom," he said brightly, with a child's innocence, "this one will be sweet too."

He lowered his head and carefully sniffed the peach's fresh, tart fragrance, the corners of his mouth lifting.

The peach was very small, very green.

Yet cradled in his hands, it seemed to weigh a thousand tons.

That weight was called "reputation."