My Kekkei Genkai Is Kinda Weird?!

On the way back to the village, there was no longer any urgency. Their pace eased, and by the time they passed through the gates of Konoha, the sky had already dimmed into twilight.

Namikaze Minato headed to the Hokage Tower to report the mission. The remaining four parted ways at the village gate.

Rin wandered through the streets aimlessly. She returned the villagers' friendly greetings with forced smiles, her expression tight beneath the mask of politeness.

When she arrived home, her elderly grandmother had already gone to bed, worn out by the fatigue of age. Rin quietly reheated some leftovers and brought the food to the table.

She sat in silence, staring at the steaming bowl of rice, chopsticks held motionless in her hand.

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting silver light on the bandages wrapped around her arm. A faint stain of blood seeped through the cloth. She looked down at her palm, still able to recall the sensation of the blade carving through flesh-the stickiness, the warmth, the nausea-inducing texture.

"I killed someone."

The thought roared through her mind again, like a brand pressed into her consciousness, searing hot and impossible to ignore. Her fingers trembled. She clenched her fist so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palm, but the pain did nothing to wash away the blood that clung to her memory.

"But they deserved it." She tried to rationalize it. "They were bandits-murderers, raiders, monsters. They deserved to die."

And yet, another voice in her mind pushed back, cold and clear:

"And you? You took their lives. What does that make you?"

Abruptly, she stood. Her knee hit the table. The bowl toppled over, sending rice and broth splattering across the floor. She stared blankly at the mess until a wave of nausea surged through her. Clutching her mouth, she staggered into the bathroom and retched-but nothing came out.

"Maybe I'm not meant to be a ninja..."

She slid to the cold floor, resting her forehead against the tile wall. Her eyes closed.

She was afraid.

Afraid that killing would become normal.

Afraid that she'd grow numb to death.

Afraid that one day, she'd swing her blade without the slightest ripple in her heart.

"If I can take a life and feel nothing... what separates me from those people I killed?"

That was why she let herself get hurt-deliberately. The pain was her anchor. It reminded her that killing comes at a price.

She drew a deep breath, then stood slowly and returned to her room.

Under the moonlight, she looked down at her hands-trembling, bloodstained.

"But if I can't even bear that price..." she murmured, "...how can I survive in this world?"

---

Meanwhile, at the Hokage's Office-

Sarutobi Hiruzen sat behind his desk, calmly exhaling a curl of smoke from his pipe. After listening to Minato's report, he fell silent for a moment before speaking.

"You're saying... Rin deliberately let herself be injured? Even though she could've handled the situation cleanly?"

Minato nodded. His brow furrowed.

"Yes, Hokage-sama. Her movements... they felt like self-inflicted punishment."

Hiruzen took a slow drag from his pipe.

The smoke curled around his face, making his expression difficult to read. And he turned toward the crystal ball glowing softly on his desk.

"It's not uncommon to struggle after your first kill," he said at last. "But the fact that she understands the weight of life-that's a good thing."

Minato hesitated.

"Even so... her methods are reckless. On a real battlefield, this kind of behavior-"

Hiruzen raised a hand, cutting him off. A faint smile appeared on his timeworn face.

"That's enough. Go home, Minato. Talk to her. Guide her."

Minato gave a slight bow.

"Understood."

After he left, Hiruzen rose from his seat and walked to the window, gazing out over the slumbering village.

"She's hurting herself to alleviate guilt..." he murmured to himself. His eyes gleamed with quiet admiration.

"To have such awareness at her age... Not bad at all."

Another puff of smoke drifted into the night air, curling and disappearing into the moonlight.

"Looks like I'll be seeing her in person again, after all."

---

The next morning, Rin sat at the table, dark circles heavy under her eyes. She mechanically chewed on the porridge her grandmother had made. The rice disintegrated in her mouth, but her tongue couldn't taste a thing.

"Rin, did you sleep poorly?" Her grandmother's wrinkled hand pressed to her forehead. "You're so pale. Are you running a fever?"

Rin instinctively pulled away. The rustling of bandages against her clothes made her grandmother's eyes narrow in concern. She gently lifted Rin's sleeve-and gasped when she saw the blood-soaked wrappings.

"I... I got scraped during training," Rin stammered, hurriedly tugging her sleeve back down. Her spoon clinked against the edge of her bowl, the sound sharp in the quiet. Morning sunlight cut through the kitchen steam, casting web-like shadows of her lashes across her cheeks.

Her grandmother silently retrieved the medical kit and began tending to her injuries again. Rin caught a familiar scent-mugwort. Her grandmother had secretly warmed her blankets again last night.

"How could training leave you so badly hurt?"

Rin didn't answer.

"You're not going to school today," her grandmother said suddenly. Rin saw her stooped back tremble slightly in the haze of steam.

"I'll go speak with your Aoki-sensei-"

"That's not necessary-"

Before she could finish, three soft, deliberate knocks echoed from the front door.

Through the narrow crack, the distinctive outline of a Hokage hat could be seen.

Rin's blood turned to ice.

That old man moves fast.

Just a brief interaction with Uchiha Shisui, and already he's probing me? Or does he have another reason?

Her mind went on high alert. If the Hokage was here personally, it meant something had changed. She had to protect her cover.

Sarutobi Hiruzen stood at the gate, shrouded in early morning mist, carrying a paper-wrapped parcel of candied fruit. By the time Rin's grandmother had finished wiping her hands on her apron, the old man had already stepped inside, smiling.

"I heard little Rin was injured?"

Rin's nails dug into her palms as tension wrapped itself around the room. When Hiruzen placed the sweets on the table, the sugary scent mingled with the smell of breakfast, making her stomach churn.

"To what do we owe the honor, Hokage-sama?" her grandmother asked nervously, clutching her apron. There had never been any connection between their household and the Hokage before.

Hiruzen lit his pipe, his smile hidden by smoke.

"I'd like to borrow Rin for a little while today."

When his hand landed gently on her shoulder, Rin realized she was trembling. The weight of that calloused hand felt suffocating. His voice, warm and thick with the smell of candied fruit, murmured close to her ear:

"Is that alright, Rin?"

Her mind raced.

Did someone report her relationship with Shisui?

Or was it Danzo who took an interest?

She was only six-surely not worthy of the Hokage's personal attention? Unless...

She followed Hiruzen to the Third Training Ground.

The old man stood quietly, puffing on his pipe. The smoke coiled through the air, making his expression unreadable.

The wind stirred the new leaves along the training field. After a long pause, he finally asked:

"Rin, have you studied Konoha's founding history?"

She nodded.

"Then do you know what the First Hokage said to Uchiha Madara during their final battle at the Valley of the End?"

Rin's fingers brushed the edge of her still-bleeding bandage. She shook her head.

A breeze swept the treetops, scattering a few startled sparrows.

"He said-" the Third turned, tapping her forehead lightly with his pipe, "Those who take lives must be prepared to lose their own."

His cloudy eyes reflected her wide-eyed reaction.

"But more importantly..." he added, voice lowering, "...those who live must have the courage to keep living."

Rin searched her memory frantically. Had Hashirama really said that? She didn't remember it in the original story. Was the old man making it up?

The honeysuckle vines along the field rustled quietly.

Then, from his robes, Hiruzen pulled out a yellowed scroll-a medical record.

Stamped beneath the name Senju Misaki was a bright red seal:

"Classified."

---