Ichiraku Ramen was quiet, the steam from the pots rising gently in the air. Itsuki and Ino had just finished their bowls of ramen, the warmth of the broth still lingering in Itsuki's chest.
He held his chopsticks with a thoughtful expression, while Ino, seated beside him, watched him with a gentle but concerned look.
"Hey, Itsuki, are you sure you're okay? You've been really quiet," Ino asked, tilting her head. Her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity, but also with a compassion that Itsuki instantly recognized.
From his memories, the loss of his parents had been a heavy blow to Konoha's leadership. So it was only natural she knew—her father, Inoichi, probably mentioned it at home.
Itsuki blinked, snapping back to the present.
He forced a smile, but a slight, uncomfortable ache in his chest made him hesitate. His eyes suddenly grew moist, though he knew those feelings weren't exactly his—they belonged to the body he now inhabited, to the real Itsuki Sarutobi, who had just lost his parents.
"I'm fine, Ino. Just... tired, I guess. It's been a long week," he replied, his voice softer than he had intended.
Ino nodded, knowing he wasn't saying everything. "I get it... If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me, right?" She gave him a warm smile, trying to cheer him up. "Next time, I'll take you to Yakiniku Q to thank you for today."
"It's all good, Ino. Really," said Itsuki, feeling genuinely grateful for her presence. He stood up, stretching his arms. "I think I'll head home. It's getting late."
"Alright. Take care, Itsuki. See you tomorrow!" Ino waved, heading off toward her own home, her blonde hair swaying with her steps.
Itsuki thanked the owner of Ichiraku and his daughter, Ayame, then stepped out into the cool Konoha night after tossing a few coins onto the counter.
The streets were quiet, lit only by the glow of the shops and the stars above.
Each step toward the Sarutobi district felt heavier, weighed down by the memories of the body he now inhabited. His parents—Itsuki's parents—had died just a week ago, shortly after he graduated from the Ninja Academy.
They were skilled shinobi, sent on a high-risk mission they didn't return from. The news hit like a thunderclap, and the young Itsuki, newly graduated, hadn't even had time to grieve before being thrown into life as a genin.
It had hit him so hard that, within days, he deteriorated mentally in his room and eventually died—allowing the soul of this Itsuki to merge with the body, giving birth to a new life.
Entering the Sarutobi district, a peaceful neighborhood in Konoha where the clan resided, Itsuki noticed familiar gazes. A group of clan members gathered near a house, speaking in hushed tones. When they saw him, their eyes turned his way—some with pity, others with encouragement, but all marked by the shadow of recent tragedy.
An older man, the Sarutobi clan symbol embroidered on his robe, waved with a gentle smile. "Good evening, Itsuki. Heard you graduated from the academy. Well done, kid," he said, his voice full of support.
"Thanks, Uncle Renji," Itsuki replied, waving back with a shy smile. He recognized the man from the real Itsuki's memories—a distant cousin who had always been kind to him.
A younger woman holding a basket of laundry also greeted him. "You're growing up fast, Itsuki. Keep working hard, alright?" she said, though her eyes carried a sadness Itsuki knew too well.
"Thank you, Aunt Hana," Itsuki replied, waving again. He continued on his path, hearing the soft murmurs behind him. A group of elderly women sat on a bench outside a house, peeling vegetables for dinner as they talked.
"Poor Itsuki… Losing his parents so young, and right after graduating," whispered one of them, an old woman with gray hair, shaking her head. "It's truly heartbreaking."
"They were so talented," added another, a middle-aged woman in a sorrowful tone. "The Sarutobi clan lost two great ninjas, and now little Itsuki is all alone. So young…"
"He'll pull through," said a third, more optimistic. "He's a Sarutobi, after all. Still... it's just so sad."
Itsuki heard their words, but didn't turn around.
The ache in his chest deepened, and he blinked quickly to hold back the tears. He knew this sadness belonged to the body, to the real Itsuki—but that didn't make it any easier to bear.
"As Shikamaru would say, these emotions are such a drag..."
Arriving at his small house—a modest structure with tiled roof and a simple porch—he slid the door open and stepped inside.
The interior was traditional: a futon in the corner, a low table with study scrolls, and a framed photo of his parents on the wall. In the photo, they were smiling, holding baby Itsuki in their arms.
He paused, staring at the picture for a long moment. The ache returned, sharper this time, and his eyes filled with tears.
'I never even met them in person... but this body misses them so much,' he thought, pressing a hand to his chest.
Then, a thought crossed his mind, and he let out a dry, almost bitter chuckle. "If I'm the protagonist of a shounen anime, I guess this all makes sense," he muttered to himself, wiping his eyes.
"Goku lost his parents and his grandpa… Naruto never met his... Asta was abandoned at a church… Gon grew up without his dad... Even Luffy barely saw his parents, and Ichigo lost his mom. Typical."
He shook his head, an ironic smile tugging at his lips. "If I want to be the hero of this story, I guess I had to be an orphan. Rule number one of shounen anime."
He smiled.
The joke gave him some relief, however small, but didn't erase the pain still lingering in his chest. Itsuki sat down on the futon, removing his ninja headband and setting it beside him. He lay back, staring at the wooden ceiling as the moonlight filtered through the window. "A world of shinobi... full of danger, but also possibilities," he whispered, echoing the thought he'd had earlier.
The weight of the past days—the graduation, the loss of his parents, his new life as a genin—weighed heavily on him, but also gave him a sense of urgency.
He knew what was coming: the Land of Waves arc, the Chunin Exams, the Akatsuki. If he wanted to survive and protect those close to him, he'd need to be strong.
At least he had full control over this body's abilities—even its chakra. That spared him from having to start from scratch, learning theory and then jutsu.
Yes, fortunately he was part of the Sarutobi clan. His chances of being ostracized were low, and with that surname, he didn't have to worry much about Danzo—Hiruzen was still Hokage, after all.
Lying on the futon, he put his hands behind his head and let his thoughts wander, until his eyelids began to grow heavy.
By morning, he would be someone else.