After pacing in circles with troubled thoughts for a while, Kazeo finally sat down on the ground, letting out a deep breath. His eyes narrowed, 'What the hell am I even thinking?' he scolded himself. 'Wishing for someone's death? Has the Torture and Interrogation Department training really messed up my mind? No... I need to calm down and think logically.'
For a moment, everything was silent—just him and the rustling leaves.
'If Shisui saw me train… then other competent ninja, especially ANBU, could've been observing me too. I wouldn't even notice. What if they reported it to the Hokage? No... I might just be overthinking again. Compared to monsters like Minato, Kakashi, Shisui, or Itachi, I'm nothing.'
This thought gave him a strange sense of comfort that he wasn't on anyone's radar yet. Probably.
'My main concern with Shisui is that he's seen my true chakra level—it's at low-chunin, while I've only shown mid-genin level to others. If he tells the Hokage… then what? I'll have to improvise. Make up some excuse about sudden growth due to my soul. Yeah. That'll do.'
He sighed, rubbing his temples. The mental fatigue was heavier than any physical strain.
'Still, this meeting wasn't a disaster. He taught me how to expand my chakra field to four hundred meters in just three months. That alone is insane progress. And removing the hand signs for Body Flicker… that tip alone was worth every second of this encounter. Glad I asked directly and insisted, even though I hesitated earlier.'
A small, almost proud smile tugged at his lips before vanishing as a thought came inside his mind, 'There are many flaws in my fighting style, and he pointed them all out. I won't be able to fix everything in three months… but I think I can definitely work on some things like—awareness and chakra field.'
Lying on the ground, he looked up at the cloudless blue sky. 'Shisui's help is… far more than I expected. In return, he only knows a small part of my truth. It's kind of bargain, isn't it?'
He paused as his gaze followed a lone hawk soaring high above.
'The real question is—should I try to save him or not? I know he'll die…but I'm very weak right now. I can't challenge Danzo directly and warning him directly, also won't be easy. I can't just stroll up and say, 'Hey, you're going to die soon if you're not careful around Danzo.' What will I tell him when he asks how I know? That I watched it on an anime in my past life?'
The amusement faded quickly.
'He'd probably throw me under a Sharingan genjutsu before I even finished the sentence. And let's not kid myself—while my genjutsu resistance has improved with training, it's still nowhere near good enough.'
Memories of the Hokage's office flickered in his mind. 'The guy who hit me with a genjutsu in the Hokage's office only had a two-tomoe Sharingan, and it still took my body nearly a full minute to flush it. What chance do I have against a full three-tomoe? Or worse… Mangekyo?'
He closed his eyes. After a long pause, his thoughts settled and he opened his eyes.
'I can't tell him the truth. But maybe I can still warn him—indirectly. Spin a… believable story, enough to trigger caution. Maybe something about a one-eyed cyclops who manipulates people from the shadows and kills a person who uses blink steps magic. It's vague but it should do the work.'
He sat up slowly. 'It's not much but if it helps Shisui even a little…or slightly derails Danzo's twisted plans… then it's worth doing. He said he'll come again next week. I'll tell him then for sure.'
His eyes hardened with resolve.
-------
Next Day, at the Academy—
It was the day of the weekly class held by the TI department—one designed to fortify the students' minds against the horrors they might one day face if captured by enemies. The elite fourth-year class was on their way to what their instructor, Yuhi Akari, had vaguely described as a "new experience." But not a single child looked excited. Some wore doubtful expressions, others looked stoic. A few seemed confident, but most were visibly anxious, their steps heavy with dread.
They soon reached a large, metallic door at the end of the corridor. Usually, this wing of the department echoed with cries, screams, and the sobbing of broken minds. But today, there was only silence. The absence of sound was not comforting—it was suffocating. An ominous air hung over them like a dense fog.
With a click, Akari opened the door, and the children stepped inside.
The room was quiet, unusually spacious—easily able to accommodate forty people. Directly opposite the entrance stood a large mirror, and in the center of the room, an empty metal chair. As the students filed in and formed a circle around the walls, following Akari's instruction, the low lighting began to reveal unsettling details—dark stains smeared across the floor and splattered faintly on the walls. Blood.
Kazeo stood in the left-most corner of the room, unease settling deep in his stomach. The sight around him made him feel sick, so he tried to distract himself by analyzing the setup. 'Is this their torture chamber?' he wondered. 'It's almost exactly like the ones I've seen in movies—an empty chair in the center, dim lighting, and a large mirror on one wall. Probably a one-way glass—mirror from our side, transparent from theirs.' He swallowed hard. 'Did they bring us here to watch someone being tortured? Or… are they going to demonstrate it on us?' Either way, a cold chill ran down his spine. 'Whatever this is… it doesn't feel right.'
"You're here," Instructor Akari began, "to witness an execution."
The silence inside the room shattered and gasps rippled through the circle. One boy stumbled back a step, eyes wide. Another girl's hands shot to her mouth, muffling a whimper. One of the more stoic students, a scar-faced kid who always bragged about his chakra reserves, paled instantly.
Kazeo's fists tightened at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "Fck, I knew it," he thought, jaw clenched. "Something felt off from the start. But this? Showing ten-year-olds an actual execution? Are they insane? This system… it's seriously fcked up."
Akari gave them a moment before she continued, her tone flat but for the first time, not cold.
"This man," she said, pointing to the gate at the far end, "is a convicted criminal. He was part of a child trafficking ring. He's responsible for kidnapping small children of your age or younger. Some were sold, some were tortured while some died. This is not a test for you. This is justice, carried out with your presence… so that you will understand what it means to be a Shinobi of the Leaf. And it will also help you to decide if you are ready to become a Shinobi this year or not."
The gates creaked open and two ANBU emerged, dragging the prisoner forward. He was in his early forties, but the pain and fear in his expression aged him by decades. His feet scraped the floor, bruised and bloodied. His eyes—sunken, hollow, ringed with panic—flitted from child to child, then he saw the chair in the middle of the room.
His mouth opened, and he screamed, but only a wheeze escaped. His voice was sealed by a jutsu tag. He thrashed against the chakra threads binding his limbs, body spasming in desperation . His eyes begged—not like this, not in front of children, not like an animal. Tears streamed down his cheeks, not for guilt or for the victims, but for himself.
Some of the children averted their eyes while others couldn't.
A girl named Himawari started crying softly. Her shoulders trembled as she looked at the man, seeing not some monster or demon, but a human being in his final moment. Daiki, Ishikawa clenched their fists, teeth gritted so hard their gums bled. Kaito looked indifferent from outside but some fear was also seen on his eyes.
Kazeo stood still, but his heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum. For a fleeting moment, memories from a year ago flickered before his eyes—he had killed before, that much he knew. But he didn't remember a single detail. Despite the sharpness of his memory in this life, that particular fight with the ROOT ninja remained a blank. He could recount the outcome, maybe even narrate it to someone in broad strokes, but when it came to reliving the exact moment—it was gone. Completely erased. His mind had buried it, just like it had in his previous life when his friend 'Lucky' died. So in a way, this moment… this was also his first time—his first time truly witnessing someone die this close, this raw, this real.
The man's desperate gaze swept across the children again. Many turned away, unable to meet his eyes.
Akari gave a subtle nod. One of the ANBU stepped forward, raising a ceremonial kunai. Its silver blade caught the dim light as silence fell over the room once again. Thirty-six people were present, but not a sound was heard. Not even breathing.
The man bucked again, his mouth finally emitting a strangled, wet sound from behind the seal. His body shivered and he pissed himself, yellow liquid flowing from his legs to the ground.
A kid in the back began sobbing openly. Another whispered, "I don't want to see this…" but her voice died in her throat.
Look," Akari said quietly. "You must see it. Because this is what it means to become a Shinobi to protect your loved ones and your village."
The blade moved precisely straight through the throat. The sound it made was not cinematic, it was a horrible, wet squelch followed by the sudden spray of blood. The prisoner's eyes widened in one final surge of panic—then slowly, they began to dim, the light fading from within. A choked gurgle slipped past his lips, crimson bubbling out with each shallow breath. His body sagged after trembling once… then it fell still, all the fight, fear, and life draining out of him.
Some students screamed. One boy vomited on the floor and fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. A girl turned and clutched her friend, who had wet herself and was whispering over and over, "Make it stop, please make it stop."
But the body was already still.
What happened in this room was cold but also calculated, the idea of showing an execution was proposed and approved by the higher-ups of Konoha. It contained two intentions: First, was to ensure that, by the time the elite class students graduated, they wouldn't hesitate during their first kill. And second to discourage those who weren't truly ready from seeking early graduation.
Kazeo stared at the lifeless man—his eyes dry, his fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms, and his lips bleeding from where he'd been biting them. His stomach churned, a wave of nausea threatening to rise, but alongside that sickness, something inside him solidified. He wanted to look away—every part of him screamed to—but he didn't. Not because he was fearless, but because deep down, he knew: this wasn't some storybook or a PG-13 anime. This was real. This… this would be his reality in a matter of months and reality was ugly.
As the blood soaked into the cracks of the floor, a piece of their childhood died with it.
Akari looked over them with understanding. Her voice was calm and cold, yet heavy. "You are the future protectors of this village. You must know what protection costs."
She turned away, saying. "Report to the reflection chambers. All of you."
The children dispersed slowly. Some needed help walking. A few remained rooted, frozen in their place. But one by one, they left—carrying the image of death etched behind their eyes.