The sunlight burned a little brighter when you hadn't seen it in days.
Akari stood at the edge of Konoha's central training ground, the sounds of clashing kunai and distant laughter clashing with the weight in his chest. The village moved on. It always did. But since the incident at the northern ridge, something had shifted — not in the air, but in the eyes of the people.
They looked at him differently now.
Some offered quick nods and fake smiles. Others turned away entirely. The children who once followed Raien around like ducklings no longer approached when Akari was near. Even Raien seemed quieter lately — loyal, but cautious.
And then there was the mark.
Faint, but still pulsing beneath his skin.
He hadn't told anyone about the dreams. About the black garden, the silver-eyed figure standing at the gate, whispering his name like a forgotten lullaby. He didn't want to worry Raien. Not now. Not after everything.
"Hey."
Akari turned.
Raien approached with two scrolls in hand, dressed in full shinobi gear. His expression was serious, but there was warmth beneath it. "We've got a mission."
Akari raised a brow. "Council-approved, I assume?"
"Of course," Raien said, though his tone suggested he didn't agree with the scrutiny.
He handed over the scroll. "Scouting run near the border. Nothing complicated. But they want us to check an abandoned outpost… just in case."
Akari nodded slowly. "So this is what 'trust with supervision' looks like."
Raien smirked faintly. "Welcome to politics."
They left the village before noon.
---
The forest was quiet.
Not silent, but not alive either. Wind moved through the trees, but birds didn't sing. Akari kept pace beside Raien, his senses alert. It wasn't the first time they had patrolled together — but it felt different now.
He could feel it in Raien, too. Every glance, every breath held a question he wasn't asking.
Finally, Akari broke the silence. "You think I'm still me?"
Raien looked over, frowning. "That's a dumb question."
"But you've thought about it."
A pause.
Raien slowed slightly. "I think… whatever that thing is inside you, it's powerful. Dangerous. But you haven't changed, Akari. You still flinch when people kill bugs in the hallway. You still fold your mission reports too precisely. You still ask questions you know will hurt."
Akari looked ahead. "I dream about it. The mark. It shows me things."
Raien was quiet.
"Last night, I saw a woman. Pale skin. Long black hair. Eyes like starlight. She stood at a gate made of roots, and she said, 'When you forget who you are, I will remember for you.'"
Raien exhaled. "Creepy."
Akari gave a humorless smile. "Yeah."
---
They reached the outpost by dusk. A crumbling tower, swallowed by vines and silence. The place had been abandoned for decades, ever since the Warring States era ended.
They moved in without words — trained, practiced.
Inside, the building was mostly rubble, but the foundation remained. And in the center of the lowest floor was something unexpected.
A shrine.
Ancient, cracked, but intact. The symbol carved into it—
Akari stopped breathing.
The mark.
Exactly like the one on his chest.
Raien saw it too. "That's not on the mission report."
Akari stepped closer. The shrine wasn't made for worship — it was made for sealing. Around it, kanji spiraled outward in a circular array, filled with faded chakra residue.
And then he heard it.
A whisper.
Not in his ear — in his bones.
> "You found it. You always would."
Akari staggered back. Raien grabbed his arm. "Akari!"
"I'm fine," he lied. "Just—it's reacting."
Raien looked at the shrine, then back at him. "We should leave. Now."
Akari didn't argue.
But as they turned, a final gust of wind swept through the chamber, scattering dust and revealing something half-buried beneath the stone tiles: a kunai.
Old. Blackened. With the Uchiha crest.
Akari stared.
Because deep down, something told him—
This wasn't the last shrine.
And whatever was waking...
had been waiting.