The question hung in the air like smoke, thin and suffocating; "Would you like to make your father proud? Would you like to join the Yamanaka clan?"
For a long moment, there was no response. The silence stretched, taut and breathless.
Satoru's gaze lingered on them both; unreadable, unflinching, before he finally spoke, his tone calm and measured.
"Why?"
The word was simple; small, even. But it landed like a kunai tip-first, sharp and deliberate.
Jun blinked, taken aback, and even Inotake's stoic expression wavered for the briefest instant. His brows drew together slightly, not in anger but in genuine confusion.
"Why not?" Inotake asked at last, his voice steady. "You're a Yamanaka, just like your father."
Jun gave a faint, uncertain nod beside him, as though echoing his father's logic, though his eyes were quietly searching Satoru's face for understanding.
But Satoru didn't answer right away. He tilted his head slightly, studying the two of them as if examining a puzzle. Then, very slowly, he exhaled, and when he spoke again, his tone was soft.
"That's the thing, Yamanaka-sama," he said quietly. "I remember my father. Vaguely. Mostly in fragments; his voice, the way he smiled. But what I remember more clearly…"
He paused; his voice lowered.
"...was what happened after he died."
Jun shifted, frowning faintly, while Inotake's expression remained calm, though a trace of wariness appeared in the lines around his eyes.
Satoru continued, voice even but tinged with a quiet, controlled bitterness.
"I remember the messenger who brought the news. The look on my mother's face. The silence that followed. I remember her sitting at the window every night for weeks, waiting for someone who never came."
The faint creak of the wooden floor accompanied his words as he paced slowly toward the window. Outside, the late-evening breeze carried the scent of pine and damp soil.
"No one from the clan came to see us. No visits. No letters. Not even condolences."
He turned back to face them, eyes half-lidded, unreadable.
"So forgive me if I'm a little confused that you'd want me now."
The words weren't shouted. They didn't need to be. The calmness in his tone made them sting sharper than anger ever could.
A long, uncomfortable silence followed.
Jun's lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked to his father, unsure whether to speak. Inotake, for his part, merely regarded Satoru with a still, contemplative expression. The weight of years; of politics, of decisions made in rooms where sentiment could not enter, hung between them.
Finally, the older man sighed softly and straightened his shoulders.
"The situation back then," he began carefully, "wasn't as simple as it seems now."
Satoru said nothing, merely watching him.
Inotake continued, tone patient, diplomatic.
"Your mother was technically of the Uchiha clan. That complicated things. The Council and the Hokage had… rules. We couldn't intervene directly."
The calm explanation slid easily off his tongue, too easily; the kind of voice used to justify the unkindness of necessity.
Satoru's eyes narrowed just slightly. He tilted his head, the faintest smirk ghosting across his lips.
"And now that she's gone," he said softly, "there's nothing stopping you from taking me in."
There was no accusation in his voice, only quiet recognition. But the implication landed like a heavy stone in the room.
Jun tensed immediately. "That's not it!" he burst out, shaking his head. "It's not like that, Satoru."
His voice cracked slightly under the weight of emotion, and for the first time, he looked genuinely pained. "The clan was stretched thin during the war. We lost people. Communications broke down. By the time we learned about your situation, you were already in the orphanage."
Satoru turned toward him, his expression calm but his eyes cool.
"You did visit me once," he said quietly. "You said you'd come back. You didn't."
Jun froze. The colour drained from his face. His mouth opened slightly, but no words followed. He glanced helplessly at his father, who met his eyes briefly before turning his attention back to Satoru.
Inotake's voice, when it came again, was slower; heavier.
"Your situation," he said, "was… peculiar. We couldn't act alone."
Satoru's brows furrowed slightly. "What do you mean by that?"
The clan head hesitated, then exhaled slowly, as if weighing the decision to reveal something.
"The Hokage issued a restriction," he said finally. "Neither the Yamanaka nor the Uchiha were allowed to recruit or claim you until you became a genin. Only then, and only by your own choice, could you join a clan."
The words sank in slowly, like cold water creeping through cloth.
For a heartbeat, Satoru didn't move. Then his eyes widened slightly. "…What?"
Jun nodded reluctantly, confirming it.
"It was during the first year after the war," he said quietly. "The Hokage was worried about tension between the clans. If either side claimed you too early, it could have sparked another internal dispute."
Satoru's thoughts began to race. 'So that's why.'
All those years of silence, all those unanswered questions — not pure neglect, but restriction.
He leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose. The faintest ghost of bitter amusement crossed his face.
Finally, Satoru spoke, "That's… a lot to take in."
He looked down at his hands. To learn that there had been a decree — a calculated, deliberate hand guiding his isolation — changed everything.
And yet… it didn't erase the ache. At least that is what he wanted them to see.
"I'll need time to think about it."
Inotake nodded once, approvingly. "Of course. Take your time. You have a week to decide."
Jun's shoulders relaxed slightly at that, relief flashing across his features. "That's fair," he said softly. "I… hope you'll consider it, Satoru. Truly."
Satoru nodded politely but said nothing more.
Inotake turned to leave, his movements smooth and deliberate. Jun lingered a moment longer, eyes flicking back to Satoru with a faint, uncertain smile. Then, with a small bow, he followed his father out.
The door slid shut with a soft click.
Silence settled over the small apartment once more.
For a while, Satoru just sat there, staring at the door. The sudden news had almost thrown him off his performance.
He exhaled slowly, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
"So… Minato was the reason the Yamanaka ghosted me."
The sound of his own voice filled the quiet, low and sardonic. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing loosely.
"You really were thorough, weren't you, Fourth Hokage?"
He stared at the ceiling, mind whirring. Why would the Hokage involve himself in something so specific? Restricting clan recruitment over a single child seemed almost absurd. Unless…
"You weren't protecting me," he murmured, "or you were managing me."
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Control the outlier before it becomes unpredictable… clever."
Outside, the sky had begun to darken; streaks of crimson melted into indigo, and the first stars began to pierce through. The faint hum of the village softened into the quiet rhythm of nightfall.
Satoru stood and walked to the window, sliding it open slightly.
"A week, huh?"
He turned away from the window, the soft glow of the lantern outlining the sharp edge of his features.
"Then I'd better make my choice while Minato's still Hokage."
He spoke the words softly, almost to himself, but there was iron beneath them — the tone of someone who had already begun to plan.
Satoru stood there for a long time, silent, thoughtful, his reflection faintly visible in the glass.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled softly, marking the hour.
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