As the two entered the compound, they were met with stillness.
The gravel paths were clean, the wooden walls polished, and the small stone lanterns lining the garden paths were unlit in the afternoon light.
Yet something about the compound felt off.
Too quiet.
Eichi narrowed his eyes and slowed his steps. He closed his eyes for a moment, and tapped into his Kagura's mind eye.
Immediately, the world shifted.
What looked like an empty home was, in truth, occupied.
Over a dozen individuals were scattered throughout the compound.
Some were perched silently in the trees. Others lay low on the tiled roofs. A few were underground, likely hidden within crawlspaces or tunnels.
They weren't normal guards. Kunoichi and Shinobi.
He opened his eyes again, masking the brief flicker of tension with his usual calm.
Shino glanced at him but didn't ask. She just led the way to the main house.
They stepped up onto the raised wooden platform and slid the door open.
Inside, the scent of sandalwood drifted lightly in the air. Tatami mats covered the floors, and a single beam of light filtered through the shōji doors at the far end.
There, sitting cross-legged in meditation, was an old man.
He wore a deep blue kimono, plain in design but finely made. His frame wasn't imposing—slim, even—but he sat with a straight back and the ease of someone who had been doing so for decades. Behind him, resting gently against the wall, was a sheathed katana.
Eichi froze.
It wasn't the blade.
It wasn't the man's posture or presence.
It was the chakra.
This was the first time since arriving in this world that Eichi had sensed someone circulate and store chakra in the way shinobi did in his own world.
People in this world used Yin and Yang energies, shaping chakra on demand in a way that felt foreign to him. But this man—he was doing it the old way. His chakra was dense, steady, and compactly sealed within his body.
In shinobi diplomacy, storing chakra openly during a meeting was a provocation.
And yet, the old man spoke with a gentle voice.
"Welcome home, Shino. And welcome, Eichi Uzuchi... to my humble clan grounds."
His eyes opened, sharp and clear. The chakra flow stilled instantly, tucking itself neatly back into his reserves without leaking a single drop of killing intent.
"Father." Shino dropped to one knee without hesitation, her voice calm and formal.
Eichi stood silently for a breath longer, then followed the proper protocol for meeting a clan head. He lowered his head in a slight bow, right fist resting over his chest.
"Hattori-sama," he said evenly.
Shino blinked, subtly surprised. Eichi almost never bowed around authority, especially not teachers or heroes. But this was different. This wasn't school.
This was two shinobi meeting as equals under a shared code.
"Uzuchi-san, there's no need for formalities," Hattori said with a nod. "As it stands, I believe we each represent our clans as leaders. Thus, please refer to me simply as Hattori."
He gestured lightly to the tatami across from him.
Eichi nodded once, then stepped forward and took a seat across from the man, legs crossed in a relaxed but upright posture. He didn't drop his guard. Not completely.
After all, the man hadn't recalled his hidden operatives yet.
"I believe there's a reason behind your invitation, Hattori-san," Eichi said, tone even.
"While I'd like to begin with the topic that drew my attention to you," Hattori replied, folding his hands over his knee, "I must ask something selfish of you first."
Eichi remained silent, his gaze steady and direct. He didn't need to speak, he was listening.
Taking the silence as consent, Hattori continued. "Would you mind a spar between us?"
"A spar?" Eichi repeated calmly.
"Yes," Isshin said, eyes calm but resolute. "Not a battle of pride, nor one of anger. Simply... a conversation of will between two shinobi. Before I speak to you as a father, or as a host, I wish to speak to you as a man who once lived by the blade."
Shino's eyes widened. "Father, seriously?"
Isshin didn't look at her, but his voice softened. "There are truths you can't ask with words, only draw out with steel or will. I need to know what kind of shinobi walks beside my daughter, while also educate my children on how a real Shinobi battle really is."
Eichi didn't respond right away. His gaze lingered on Isshin, but his senses reached out again, brushing against the quiet shadows of the guards still stationed around them. Still uncalled off. Still waiting.
He gave a faint breath through his nose, something like a quiet laugh.
"...Fair enough."
He shifted his position slightly. "But if we're going to speak like shinobi, let's make it clear. I won't hold back to make you feel better. And if I lose, then that, too, will speak for itself."
Isshin's mouth curled into the ghost of a smile. "That's all I ask."
Shino stood abruptly. "If you two are doing this, I'm watching. And if you both end up bleeding, I'm blaming you both."
Eichi raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean 'if he ends up bleeding,' right?"
Isshin chuckled. "Then let us not waste time. The courtyard is open."
"But before so... allow me to call the original first," Eichi said as he stood up.
Shino blinked, visibly puzzled. She hadn't seen him use any clone technique, and she wasn't even sure he could. Yet he said it so casually, like it was nothing.
Isshin didn't question it. He simply gave a small nod. He may not have known the exact technique, but the term original was enough to grasp the concept.
In the next instant, there was a sharp puff of smoke, and Eichi dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch.
The air tensed.
The entire time, the real Eichi had been hiding overhead, letting his clone handle the conversation. As always, he had one prepared ahead of time. The moment Shino stepped into the car earlier, he'd swapped places with a clone and followed silently.
Around them, a dozen shinobi and kunoichi—previously hidden across the compound—suddenly revealed themselves in reaction. They hadn't sensed another intruder. Not even a hint. And now here he was, standing among them as if he had been part of the walls.
Their sudden appearance told Eichi all he needed to know.
He straightened up, dusting off his knees. "Your operatives are good," he said plainly, "but ceiling beams don't carry traps against intruders."
Isshin gave a soft hum, impressed. "I see. So that's how you slipped in." He turned to his people with a brief wave of his fingers, and they melted back into the shadows.
Though this time, they kept a much closer eye on the guest.
Shino crossed her arms and looked at Eichi. "You could've told me."
"You didn't ask," he said, smirking.
She rolled her eyes but didn't press. She knew by now that Eichi never did anything without a reason.
Isshin rose to his feet fully and adjusted the hem of his kimono. "Very well then... Eichi Uzuchi. Let's see what makes you so special to make my precious daughter return to our old ways."
His gaze drifted to Shino for the briefest moment, not in disapproval, but with the quiet weight of a father acknowledging a decision made.
Then he turned and began walking slowly toward the open courtyard behind the house. The sliding doors opened as if sensing their approach, letting in the warm light of the afternoon sun and the soft breeze that carried the scent of cypress and stone.
Eichi followed in silence, his expression unreadable.
Only once they stepped onto the courtyard's smooth stones did he speak again, voice low.
"She came back on her own."
Isshin glanced at him over his shoulder.
"I didn't ask her to," Eichi added.
A faint smile tugged at the older man's lips. "Good. That means her decision wasn't influenced by weakness... but by clarity."
He stepped onto the center of the courtyard and turned to face him, then handed him a Katana.
"Show me what clarity looks like, boy."
With the sentence barely finished, Isshin launched forward like a bullet. His blade met Eichi's in a sharp, ringing clang—followed instantly by two more rapid strikes, each one lighting up white-hot sparks as steel clashed with steel.
Shino's eyes widened. So did the hidden shinobi all around the courtyard, some of them instinctively shifting in place. No one had seen their clan head move like this in decades—not even during drills. The sheer speed and precision made it seem as if he'd vanished and reappeared in front of Eichi.
But what startled them more... was that Eichi reacted in perfect time.
The fourth strike came in heavy, forcing Eichi to slide back across the stone floor, his boots scraping as he braced. Dust swirled around his feet, but he didn't stumble. And he didn't yield. A beat later, he was the one advancing, his own blade carving the air with pinpoint strikes that pushed the old man onto the defensive.
Isshin stepped back with each blow, deflecting with subtle, minimal movement until Eichi raised his sword overhead and brought it down like a hammer.
CRACK.
The courtyard stone beneath Isshin's sandals fractured from the impact.
Still, Isshin stood his ground and smirked up at the younger shinobi. "Not bad... for a boy your age," he said, voice rough but pleased. "I've always wondered how I'd measure against an original of the old ways."
In a blink, Isshin shifted his footing, redirecting Eichi's blade to the side. He followed up with a clean front kick toward Eichi's stomach.
But Eichi wasn't caught off guard. He twisted, caught the kick with his palm, and let it carry him back, skidding across the broken courtyard with a burst of dust. By the time he stopped, his fingers had already flown into a quick seal.
Puff!
A shadow clone appeared beside him, and both flanked Isshin from opposite sides.
The old master didn't hesitate. His body moved while each strike redirected, each slash deflected with grace. The clone swung wide; Isshin grabbed a kunai from his sash and hurled it with expert precision.
Thwack! The clone vanished in a puff of smoke.
Eichi, already moving, leapt back and unleashed a handful of shuriken. Isshin responded instantly, throwing his own.
The sky between them filled with spinning steel, a storm of metal colliding in a dazzling display of sparks, each clang and whirr ringing through the mountain air.
From the edge of the field, Shino whispered under her breath. "He's... matching him?"
A nearby kunoichi murmured, "No... they're testing each other."
Isshin saw the lull. Eichi's last shuriken had clattered to the ground, and in that split-second opening, the clan head moved.
With blinding speed, he was in front of Eichi again—blade flashing, each strike landing heavier than the last. Eichi stepped back once, twice, three times—until a final overhead blow forced him to skid back several meters, the force cracking another section of stone beneath him.
But before the dust could settle, Eichi vanished.
He reappeared in a blur behind Isshin, blade aimed straight for the old man's back. With no time to speak, he drove it forward—
"Father!" Shino screamed, her voice slicing through the tension as she rushed forward.
But a kunoichi appeared at her side in a flash and caught her arm. "Silence," the woman said firmly, eyes fixed on the fight. "And watch."
The blade hit—but instead of blood, a crack and splinter of wood followed. The figure Eichi struck burst into pieces.
Substitution Jutsu.
Isshin appeared behind him mid-swing, a blur of blue kimono and steel.
But Eichi was already moving.
From the ground at Isshin's feet, another Eichi erupted—dirt scattering as he grabbed the old man's wrists and yanked them down, locking him in place with sheer leverage and momentum.
Eichi spun, stabbing the clone to propel himself forward and closing the gap in a blink.
The blade came in clean.
But Isshin was not a clan head for nothing.
He twisted, caught the edge of the weapon with his bare hand. Blood sprayed across the courtyard, dripping onto his sleeve—yet his grip didn't waver. With a sharp, guttural breath, he snapped the blade in two with a twist of his fingers.
The courtyard went dead silent.
Even the cicadas seemed to pause.
Shino's heart was in her throat. The other shinobi were wide-eyed, their eyes darting between the two.
Eichi didn't move, nor did Isshin.
A standoff—one wounded, one disarmed, but neither backing down.
"You are indeed... of the old ways," Isshin said at last, voice rough but tinged with pain and respect.
Eichi began to peel off his long-sleeved shirt, leaving only the tank top beneath, a hush fell over the onlookers.
Scars riddled his body—long, jagged ones across his left shoulder and back, deep puncture marks near his ribs, an old burn licking up the side of his collarbone, and a web of smaller cuts and scrapes faded with time but not forgotten.
Gasps and quiet murmurs passed between the shinobi gathered around the courtyard.
"Those wounds... they're not from training," one kunoichi muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing.
"They're battlefield scars," another whispered. "Real ones. That's war experience."
Shino stood just off to the side, frozen in place. Her eyes trailed over Eichi's figure—and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
She'd seen glimpses of scars before, during training where his sleeves were rolled up. But never to this extent.
She hadn't realized just how much he'd endured.
Beside her, an older shinobi gave a quiet, knowing nod. "Those marks aren't for stories."
Then their eyes drifted to his right arm—bandaged, yes, but it wasn't an ordinary wrap. The Fuinjutsu seals etched into the fabric were elaborate, symmetrical, and faintly glowing in time with his breath.
Isshin, having just finished tightening the bandage on his own wounded hand, caught sight of the seals and paused mid-motion. His eyes widened.
"That seal..." he murmured, stepping closer unconsciously. "You truly are a child of the old world... Fuinjutsu, of this caliber, is all but extinct. I've always wished to see it with my own eyes."
Eichi flexed the fingers of his bandaged arm once, calmly. "It houses Wabisuke," he said plainly. "A blade of my clan's design. Bound to me through chakra, sealed until needed."
Isshin exhaled like he'd just heard the name of a myth. "Incredible... A true user of the sealing arts."
Isshin took a step back into the courtyard again, and replaced his blade with a spear. "Now that Kenjutsu and subterfuge have been tested... would you mind a real spar?"
Eichi gave a short nod. "Of course. Though if I may say... this short exchange may have been in your favor. Thus the win is yours."
Isshin chuckled and waved off the shinobi who was tending his wound. "You're humble. That's a dangerous mix."
As the shinobi stepped back, Isshin's chakra began to build. Then, without warning, he launched forward.
In a single swing, seven white arcs of energy streaked through the air. Eichi met each one head-on, his blade clashing in rapid succession with loud metallic sparks.
The moment the last strike passed, Eichi formed a string of one-handed hand seals. His Ninjato responded, glowing with a warm golden light that pulsed with chakra—Wabisuke was ready.
Isshin didn't waste a second. He leapt forward, his spear now covered in a swirling black mist that replaced the bright light from earlier. The dark miasma flickered violently around the tip as he aimed a powerful strike.
Eichi rose to meet him in midair. The golden glow from his blade flared brighter as it slammed into Isshin's spear with a loud crash, sending Eichi flying downward. He landed in a crouch, skidding back from the force.
But he didn't stop—he stood and quickly weaved more hand signs, then charged forward.
Each of his attacks was parried with ease, Isshin's spear flowing like water, redirecting the blows with practiced grace. But Eichi had no intention of winning with swordplay alone.
A sudden rumble underfoot signaled his next move. Thick spears of hardened earth shot up from the ground beneath Isshin, forcing him to leap.
That's exactly what Eichi wanted.
He moved fast—another round of seals—and took a deep breath. A dozen water bullets blasted from his mouth, each one sharp and fast like high-pressure darts aimed directly at Isshin in midair.
Isshin spun his spear, its black mist swirling outward as he knocked each projectile aside. The dark chakra trailed around him, blurring his form—then he vanished.
Eichi blinked.
Isshin reappeared right beside him with his spear thrusting forward in a stabbing motion aimed straight at Eichi's side.
But Eichi didn't flinch.
In one smooth motion, he stomped his foot down, pinning the spear's tip to the dirt, stopping it just short. At the same time, his Ninjato swept up, its golden edge extending with a faint, near-invisible chakra wave—pressing right at Isshin's neck.
Silence.
Isshin froze, his body tense but unmoving. The fight was over.
"I admit defeat," he said at last, voice calm but filled with genuine respect.
The tension broke as Isshin stepped back, lowering his spear. His breath was steady, but his eyes were fixed on Eichi with a mixture of awe and amusement.
"Amazing," Isshin muttered, looking down at the cracked earth and the thin mist of evaporated water still lingering. "Your Chakra control... it's not just advanced. It's refined. Seamless transitions between Earth and Water like that stopped existing long ago."
He glanced at his hand, still lightly bleeding from earlier, and chuckled. "I hadn't been pushed like that in years."
The shinobi around the courtyard hadn't moved. Many looked visibly stunned, shifting uneasily. Murmurs spread like ripples on water.
"He's only fourteen?" "Those jutsu's... was he really holding back?" "Our clan head lost?"
Even Shino stood off to the side, arms crossed, but her eyes were glued to Eichi in disbelief. She knew he was strong... but not this strong.
Isshin turned to his people, his voice calm but cutting through the whispers.
"Quiet."
At once, the courtyard stilled.
He then looked back to Eichi. "You manipulated the terrain and the environment like it was part of your own body. That earthen spear trap? You didn't just create it, you timed it with my movement. And the water bullets... they were precise. You were testing me."
Eichi shrugged lightly, sliding Wabisuke back into the seal on his arm. "Observation's part of the job. If you can't adapt mid-fight, you don't survive."
Isshin nodded, that smirk returning. "You wield Fuinjutsu, Ninjutsu, and even kenjutsu like extensions of each other. A dying art, truly. Your kind shouldn't be able to do what I just saw—but you're not a normal case, are you?"
He turned to the others again. "You've all just witnessed what the 'old ways' look like. Not tricks. Not brute force. Mastery."
Some of the older shinobi bowed slightly, others still too shaken to react.
Then Isshin's gaze landed on Shino.
"So, this is the one who made you return to your roots, eh?"
She blinked, caught off guard, then straightened. "...I didn't come back for tradition. I came back for purpose."
Isshin raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough."
He turned back to Eichi, stepping forward. "Now, Eichi... If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with you further. Shino, come along."
---
They walked from the backyard to the basement of the house. Isshin pressed a hidden mechanism in the wall, and a passage opened. The three of them descended in silence, the only sound their footsteps echoing in the dim stairwell.
At the bottom, Isshin stood with his back to them, facing a small black box wrapped in thick chains.
"Eichi," he said, "I want the truth. Is your family name really Uzuchi?"
Shino already knew the answer. She had heard the declaration in District 69, the genjutsu he used. Thus she choose to say nothing.
Eichi stayed quiet for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "You're right. But don't use Uzuchi anymore. Use Uzumaki when we're in private."
Isshin turned around. He was smiling, but there was no joy in it, only pain. "Thank you," he said. "It's sad... truly sad, what has become of the clan our founding father built."
His words gave both of them chills.
Shino had never heard anything about a 'founding father.' She knew some clan history—how they rose from the teachings of the Red Sage, how they fought to stay relevant, how they eventually ruled Japan from the shadows.
But this was new. Even most clan members didn't know half of what she did... and yet even she was in the dark.
Eichi wasn't shocked. Not fully. Part of him had already guessed it. In his world, there was the Sage of Six Paths, the man who gave chakra to humanity to bring peace.
Whether it brought peace was another matter.
Isshin's words made sense to him. After all, he hadn't even been born in this world. He had arrived here through Space-Time Fuinjutsu.
Maybe the founding father did the same.
Space-Time techniques were still barely understood, even by the Uzumaki. To most, they were just myths.
Isshin raised his eyebrows at Eichi. "You don't seem too surprised."
Eichi met his eyes. "Because I already knew something was off. Too many things didn't add up. How everyone had Chakra but only learned to use it with the rise of quirks... and how Shinobi existed long before quirks ever appeared outside the Shinobi World. It never made sense."
Isshin nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the chained box. "You're right. Shinobi weren't originally from this world. In truth, most of the early sects and groups that used Chakra came from us as a proxy. A long time ago."
Shino shifted slightly, watching them both. She stayed silent.
"I didn't expect you to figure it out with so little information," Isshin said. "Truly, you are an original Shinobi."
Eichi's tone sharpened. "Let me stop you there. Even our Shinobi didn't use Chakra at first. We didn't exist until the Sage of Six Paths appeared. Which means even we were tools—proxies—for someone else's will."
Isshin stepped forward and placed his hand on the box. "Then let me confirm one last thing. Our founding father gave the clan a command. One meant to be uncovered only by his descendant—if they ever arrived here the same way he did."
Eichi narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Isshin turned to face him fully. "For generations, we've protected this box. Not for power, not for wealth—but to guard knowledge. Knowledge stolen, hunted, and feared. The teachings of the Red Sage."
"Sorry to interrupt, Father…" Shino's voice broke through. She turned to Eichi. "So... you really were from another world?"
"You guessed right," Eichi said with a tired sigh. "I'd apologize, but I can't. You know as well as I do, anyone with strange powers or unknown origins... the higher-ups don't let them roam free. It was the same in my world, too."
Shino lowered her head. She wanted to argue, but no words came. So she stayed quiet and let them continue.
"He appeared when Japan was in chaos," Isshin went on. "The Heian Era was crumbling. The emperor had lost control, and the Mongol threat loomed. The people feared the collapse of everything."
"One day, Hojo Yoshitoki returned from a hunt with a wounded teenager. Nearly dead. He saved him, took him in, raised him like a son."
"Years passed. That teen—he became the silent force behind Tokimasa, who rose to power as the second Shikken of the Kamakura Shogunate. They credited the reforms to the son... but the truth is, the Red Sage guided them."
"When Tokimasa died, the Sage cared for his heir. But the era was cruel—plagues, famine, endless death. The boy died young. After that, the Red Sage withdrew from the world, following the path of a monk."
"But peace never lasted. The Mongol invasions came—first Tsushima, then Iki, then Hakata Bay. The land trembled."
"They say a divine storm wiped out the Mongols. Twice. A 'miracle.' A gift from the gods."
Isshin's voice grew colder.
"They were lies. Ridiculous ones. Even we couldn't believe how easy it was to make them stick."
He looked directly at Eichi.
"It wasn't a storm. It was him. Our founding father. The one who united scattered bloodlines. The one who created clans that still exist to this day. The one who crushed both invasions."
"Kamakeru Uzumaki himself."
Isshin's words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
Eichi's eyes widened. He took a small step back, as if the weight of the name struck him in the chest. His breath caught.
"...Kamakeru?" he muttered. "That's not possible."
Shino looked up, confused by the sudden shift in Eichi's tone.
"I knew him," Eichi said, barely above a whisper. "Not personally... but I studied his works. He was a legendary Seal Master in our world. Ranked among the greatest in the entire Uzumaki lineage. He vanished during the Warring States era—just disappeared without a trace."
He looked at Isshin with wide, focused eyes. "But then... he reappeared. Around the time the Hidden Villages were being formed. No one knew where he'd gone, or how he survived for so long. And he was still alive during the Second Shinobi War."
Eichi clenched his fists.
"He was one of the masters who activated the ritual, the one that pulled us into this world."
Isshin's brow furrowed. "Hold on, Uzumaki-san. Go back. What exactly was the Warring States period like? And what happened in that Second Shinobi War?"
Eichi nodded, gathering his thoughts. "The Warring States era was chaos. Shinobi weren't organized into villages yet. They were clans, hired blades who took contracts from feudal lords. Blood feuds were constant. Death came young. Our clan was feared for our Fuinjutsu, but it also made us targets. That's when Kamakeru became a famous genius. He protected our secrets, made breakthroughs no one thought possible."
He paused for a breath before continuing.
"The Second Shinobi War... that was decades later. Three of the Five Great Nations clashed. The battlefield stretched across entire countries. Millions suffered. Villages fell. Even Uzuchio became involced. That's when the Uzumaki's sealing arts became a threat to them..."
Isshin listened closely, absorbing every word. Shino, however, blinked in confusion.
"Wait," she asked slowly, "What do you mean, wasn't he here hundreds of years ago?"
Eichi turned to her. "The Fuinjutsu he might've used... is a Space-Time one. Even now, it holds mysteries we still don't fully understand—not even in our clan."
He looked at the chained box.
"Kamakeru may have jumped between worlds, or through time itself. Maybe both. But if this box is his legacy…"
He trailed off, staring at it as if it might speak.
Isshin, for his part, said nothing. He simply stepped aside, giving Eichi a clear path forward.
Eichi stepped closer. As he neared the box, the air shifted. A soft hum, almost like a whisper, resonated around them.
Symbols began glowing faintly above the chains—floating letters, twisting and moving on their own. To someone like Shino, who had never seen advanced Fuinjutsu, it looked almost... alive.
"What is this…?" Shino whispered, eyes wide.
"A blood-based seal," Eichi said quietly. "It reads the chakra within the blood. If the origin doesn't match, it won't open—or worse, it might retaliate. But if my guess is right... it's looking for Uzumaki blood."
Without hesitation, he raised his hand and bit his thumb. A line of blood dripped onto the seal.
The moment it touched, the chains snapped to life—shaking violently, rattling like steel against steel. The floor trembled under their feet, and the glowing symbols flickered faster, then faster still—until in a sudden flash, the entire array vanished like smoke in the wind.
Just like that, the chains dissolved.
No explosion. No dramatic burst. Only silence remained.
"…Like a Genjutsu," Shino muttered, blinking.
Eichi stepped back slightly.
Isshin exhaled, long and low. "So he really meant for you to find this."
Eichi didn't respond. His eyes stayed locked on the now-unsealed box. Something ancient waited inside. Something left by a man who had lived across centuries... and crossed between worlds.
"…Shall we open it?" he finally asked.
---
Was the fight good? it was my first attempt at a long fight, let me know what you think!