Morning light filtered through the slats of Raizen Uchiha's window, casting pale streaks across the room.
He woke to the sound of hurried footsteps in the compound and the distant clatter of a cart beyond the walls.
His back ached from another night on the floor, the thin mat doing little to soften the wood beneath him. Still, he rose without complaint, folding it away with practiced hands.
On the low table, his forehead protector sat where he'd left it, the metal dull in the dim light. He stared at it for a moment before tying it across his forehead, the knot firm against his skull.
The house was silent—just as it had been the night before.
Toren hadn't returned. Probably still on his mission. Or drinking. Either way, Raizen stepped onto the porch, the boards creaking under his sandals, and took in the view.
The Uchiha compound stretched before him, rooftops bathed in early sunlight, thin trails of smoke curling from a few chimneys.
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and lingering charcoal from last night's fires.
His feet carried him toward the training grounds, an old habit from his Academy days—mornings spent throwing kunai, running drills, and listening to Hiroki-sensei's gruff commands.
The grounds sat at the compound's heart, a wide expanse of packed dirt surrounded by scarred wooden posts.
A few older Uchiha were already training—two men sparring with bokken, a woman weaving seals that sent flickers of flame dancing across the ground.
Raizen lingered at the edge, hands in his pockets, watching the way their strikes cut through the air.
"Oi, Raizen!"
The voice snapped him from his thoughts.
Riku Uchiha jogged over, dark hair tied back, a grin tugging at his lips. He was twelve too, had graduated the same day, but carried himself like he'd been a shinobi for years.
"Thought you'd sleep through your first day," Riku teased.
Raizen shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."
Riku barked out a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. They're posting teams today—my uncle told me. If we're on the same squad, don't slow me down."
His tone was playful, but there was an edge beneath it. Riku had always been a step ahead of raizen—faster hands, sharper aim, a chakra spark that made the instructors take notice.
Raizen didn't dislike him, not really, but the gap between them stung all the same.
"We'll see," Raizen replied evenly.
Riku lingered a moment before jogging off to talk to another graduate.
Raizen stayed where he was, watching the training wind down. The Uchiha finished their sparring, brushing off dust and heading home, leaving the field empty except for the scuffed dirt and lingering heat.
He stepped forward, nudging a loose stone with his sandal, his gaze drifting to the posts.
One stood out—its base charred black, the burn forming strange patterns, almost like scattered letters before breaking apart into ash.
He squinted, tilting his head, but the shapes dissolved under his stare. Just a trick of the light.
Shaking off the thought, he turned back toward the house, cutting through the overgrown garden.
The brittle weeds crunched underfoot as he passed the old stone well his mother had once cared for.
Something caught his eye.
A dark smudge on the ground.
He crouched, running a hand over it. Ash. Fine cool, clinging to his fingertips.
A jagged line, almost like a word. His pulse quickened—just for a moment—before a breeze swept through, scattering it into nothing.
Raizen wiped his hand on his pants and straightened, then glanced around.
The compound was waking—doors were sliding open, and voices calling out—but no one else seemed to notice.
He frowned, the unease slipping away as quickly as it had come, and stepped back inside.
His forehead protector glinted on the table as he passed, a quiet reminder of the day ahead.