Kiyoshi didn't remember walking out of the Hokage's office.
His feet carried him automatically, down the stairs, across the courtyard, past the murmuring crowds. The village looked the same—sunlit roofs, swaying banners, scattered shinobi moving with purpose.
But everyone felt far away.
Like he had slid behind a pane of glass he couldn't break.
Rei and Daiki walked beside him, but neither spoke until they reached the quieter streets near training ground three.
Daiki finally broke.
"Okay. That was insane. Absolutely insane. Kiyoshi, you're not a threat. You saved us—multiple times. They can't just… just put you under surveillance like some ticking time bomb!"
Rei didn't defend the Hokage. She didn't argue. She just watched Kiyoshi closely.
"Kiyoshi," she said quietly, "say something."
He inhaled slowly, feeling the familiar pressure behind his ribs.
"I'm fine."
Daiki recoiled. "Bro. You're not fine."
Rei stepped closer, voice leveling out. "We're not leaving you alone through this. Whatever comes next, we handle it together."
Kiyoshi wanted to believe that.
He wanted the phantom pulse in his chest to quiet at their words.
But all he could hear was Miya's voice:
Continuous observation.
He forced his tone steady. "I'll deal with it."
Daiki looked frustrated, but Rei nodded. She understood—too well—that forcing him to talk would only make him shut down harder.
"Then we start with the evaluation," she said. "And we make sure they don't twist anything."
Daiki punched his palm. "Yeah. And if some Security Bureau creep tries something shady, I'll—"
"Daiki," Rei warned.
He toned it down. "…I'll politely question their methods."
Kiyoshi actually breathed a laugh.
Just a small one.
But it was enough.
---
Three hours later — Konoha Security Bureau
The evaluation room was cold. Not freezing, but intentionally uncomfortable—sterile walls, chakra-dampening seals humming faintly, a single chair bolted to the floor.
Kiyoshi sat with his hands on his knees as Analyst Miya prepared another set of chakra sensors.
"Maintain breathing rhythm," she said. "We're beginning the third cycle of monitoring."
Rei and Daiki weren't allowed inside.
Only ANBU behind a tinted window.
Kiyoshi inhaled, exhaled.
Sensors hummed.
Miya watched the readings. "So far, your chakra flow is stable. But the spikes during Ketsuryūgan activation earlier are… unusual."
Kiyoshi didn't respond.
Miya scribbled notes.
"Do you recall your emotional state when it spiked?"
"…Focused."
"Focused on what?"
He hesitated.
Rei's face. Daiki's. Their movements. The pulse whispering in the back of his head.
"On controlling it," he said.
Miya studied him carefully. "And was it difficult?"
"No."
"That's not what the readings show."
He stiffened.
Miya's voice softened, but only slightly. "We're not here to punish you. But honesty is necessary if we're going to assess your stability."
Stability.
They all kept using that word.
As if he were fractured.
As if something inside him was waiting to break.
Her next question hit sharper:
"Kiyoshi… do you hear anything unusual? Since the relic encounter?"
His blood went cold.
He didn't answer.
Not fast enough.
Miya's eyes narrowed. "You hesitated."
"It's nothing."
"Describe it."
The pulse in his chest throbbed again—deep, resonant, as if reacting to her words.
Kiyoshi's jaw locked. "It's not relevant."
Miya scribbled sharply. "Not relevant is still information."
He looked away, breath tight.
The whisper pushed against the back of his mind.
They want to dissect you. They don't understand power when they see it.
He crushed the thought.
But Miya was watching him—too carefully.
"We may need to conduct a genjutsu penetration test," she said finally. "And depending on the results, possibly a containment trial."
Kiyoshi's head snapped toward her. "Containment?"
"It's routine," Miya assured.
He didn't believe her.
Neither did the pulse.
The door opened abruptly.
Captain Satoru stepped in, tension in every muscle.
"Miya. We have a situation."
Her brow furrowed. "What kind of situation?"
Satoru glanced at Kiyoshi before answering.
"…It's the relic."
Kiyoshi stood instantly. "What happened?"
Satoru hesitated—something he never did.
"The containment scroll we sealed it in this morning… It's destabilizing."
Miya paled. "Impossible. It was reinforced—"
"It's cracking," Satoru said grimly. "And the chakra signature is… fluctuating."
Kiyoshi felt his heart drop.
His voice came out low. "Where is it now?"
Satoru exhaled. "…That's the problem. The container didn't just destabilize."
He looked directly at Kiyoshi.
"It opened."
The pulse inside Kiyoshi didn't whisper this time.
It roared.