As soon as the door slid shut, Murakami dispelled the concealment technique as his figure reappeared.
"You're really getting scarier every time I see you." Hina remarked in genuine awe. "Despite being here with you, I couldn't even feel your presence. Looks like you've grown quite strong."
Murakami paused for a moment and said. "Your statement makes it seem like I was once weak in comparison to yourself."
Hina rolled her eyes at him. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Definitely sounded like it."
Hina gave him a deadpan stare. "Don't get cheeky with me Murakami-kun."
"Hehe." Murakami chuckled lightly. "Don't mind me, Hina-chan, and yes, this is a better technique than using genjutsu."
"As I thought." Hina nodded. "In the past, I at least still felt your presence, but just now…your entire presence was erased. What's the secret?"
"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" Murakami smiled proudly and crossed his arms.
Hina leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand with an amused light in her eyes.
"Come on, Murakami-kun. You know I'm not going to let you dangle something like this in front of me and then clam up."
Murakami's smile widened and uncrossed his arms. He stretched his right hand towards the table near the window, where a small tea set waited untouched.
To Hina's mild surprise, the kettle floated up before turning to pour its content into the two cups with deliberate care.
"Humph. Show off." Hina pouted but wasn't too surprised. She had seen him move objects with his chakra threads before. This could only the same technique, but perfected
"It's not one technique," he said finally, floating a cup toward her. "It's three layered together."
Hina accepted the cup but didn't drink yet. She watched him with the patient and sharp gaze of someone who knew exactly when he was about to lecture.
And that…he did.
"First," Murakami continued, "complete chakra suppression. Not just cloaking, but total dormancy."
"But chakra is energy and you said-"
"I know what I said. Energy always flows. In this case, I cycle my chakra so slowly that it barely registers as movement. Even you, with your refined perception, would need to be actively looking for me to notice the trickle."
Hina gave a small nod. "That explains why I didn't feel the usual 'hum' around you. You were basically holding your breath on a cellular level."
"Not exactly cellular, but down to my tenketsu." He took a sip of his own tea. "You will get to understand more in the future."
Hina wasn't a Shinobi, but she had chakra, albeit little. Murakami had drawn out a meditation exercise for her to exercise her mental energy more, leading her to develop sensory abilities.
"Second is movement. This technique isn't perfected yet, but in its perfect state, I could move with my presence still concealed."
Hina's lips quirked. "You're saying if you had moved, the technique would break?"
"Yes." Murakami said as he set his cup down. "The moment I shift weight or take a step, the chakra suppression has to adjust. Right now, I can only maintain it while standing or sitting perfectly still or moving in extremely slow increments."
Hina nodded in understanding.
"One wrong spike in breath or one careless footfall, and the 'hum' returns."
"Third is environmental blending." Murakami gestured toward the room. "The human eye and ear are lazy. They fill in gaps with what they expect to see and hear and I become part of the background. You saw me, but she didn't, so her mind didn't register 'threat' or 'person.' It registered 'furniture.'"
Hina finally took a sip of tea, eyes narrowing in thought.
"So it's not invisibility or illusion. It's… absence."
"Absence," Murakami repeated softly, as though tasting the word. "Yes. That's the right word."
Hina set her cup down and studied him for a long moment.
"You're terrifying, you know that?"
Murakami's expression didn't change, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I know some terrifying…individuals, Hina, and I am definitely not one of them…" he paused then smiled. "Not yet, at least, so I prefer 'prepared.'"
"Pfft-hahaha" She laughed, a short, genuine laugh, then leaned back in her chair.
"Alright, terrifyingly prepared genius. Now that you've shown off, what exactly do you need the 400,000 ryō for? And don't give me the 'personal reasons' line again. I'm the one signing the withdrawal."
"I told you, Chakra beast hide," he said without hesitation.
"You didn't say that earlier." Hina pointed out. "You only said you've got someone who will deliver on the materials."
"Hmm...? Did I?" Murakami asked, " Meh, semantics."
"Oi!"
Ignoring her, he continued. "Considering the source, I expect it to be high-grade. Preferably from something with natural physical durability like a Steelhide Boar, a Thunderback Lizard, or even a mature Ironscale Serpent if we're lucky."
Hina's brows rose.
"That's not cheap. And it's not easy to get, even with connections. The war's made hunting parties scarce, and most of the good hides are going straight to frontline equipment contracts."
"I know." Murakami's tone stayed calm. "That's why I've already arranged a source. A favor from a… classmate."
Hina stared at him.
"A classmate," she repeated flatly.
"His clan deals in animal products. He's making the request on my behalf."
She exhaled through her nose. "You're recruiting already? Before graduation?"
Murakami shrugged in an almost boyish motion that looked strangely out of place on him.
"Better to build alliances early. People are more willing to help when they think it's just a favor between friends."
"You really are something else, Murakami-kun." Hina shook her head, half-exasperated, half-admiring. "Do you think he knows you're using him?"
He picked up his cup again, cradling it between his palms. "Using? Hina-chan, do not look down on me. I was as direct as I can be with him, and besides, he is a Nara, I doubt I could use him without being used in return. That's not the kind of…relationship I want with him."
Hina's smile softened, just a little. "You really are growing up well, aren't you?"
Murakami's expression fell slightly. "What do you mean by that? I will have you-"
"Be quiet and accept the compliment." Hina hit her fan on the table.
"Hai…"
"Hmm?"
"Hai…onee-san."
"Hehe. What a cute little brother I have." She said smugly, "I still expect a detailed explanation on this new technique of yours."
"But you won't be able to practice it without the necessary level of control."
"That's for me to worry about…don't you think?"
The two locked gazes for a while before Murakami sighed. "Fine."
Just then, a knock came from the door, drawing Hina's attention. "Come in." she said and turned back to Murakami only to find him missing.
"Hina-sama." The attendant from earlier, Natsu-chan, entered and bowed.
"Come on in." Hina impatiently waved at her to approach and she did and handed a scroll. "Thank you."
"Hai. Hina-sama." Natsu responded. "Hashimaru-sama asked me to pass a message along."
"Oh? What is it?" Hina looked up at her.
"He said that the necessary contracts have been drafted and now awaits your seal."
"Hmm. Noted. You may leave."
"Hai." Natsu bowed and turned away to leave.
As soon as the door slid shut, Murakami reappeared. "Looks like I will be leaving this little baby of mine in capable hands."
He wore a forlorn expression as though something very important had been taken from him.
"I would gladly give up my seat-"
"Surely you jest onee-sama." His expression immediately changed and he swiftly snatched the scroll from Hina's unguarded hand. "I'll be taking my leave now."
"You bastard!" Hina slammed her table in mock anger which caused Murakami to laugh as he got to the door and paused.
"Also… thank you. I look forward to seeing how far we could go under your leadership." Murakami said. Turning back and catching her gaze, he smiled. "Truly."
With that, he slid open the door and left, leaving Hina to her thoughts.
…
…
Hina remained seated for several long moments after the door slid shut behind Murakami.
She stared at the spot where he had sat as a slow, quiet breath escaped her lips.
She leaned back in her chair until the wood creaked softly, then let her head tip toward the ceiling, eyes closing for just a second.
"Little brother…" she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, laced with equal parts fondness and something heavier… worry, perhaps, or the ache of knowing exactly what kind of path he was walking.
Like Murakami, her parents were Shinobi but unlike a few kids in the orphanage who barely had recollections of their parents, she knew them well enough and spent a good portion of her childhood with them.
She had just bid them goodbye as they left to join the war, and two months later, she was told that they were dead with nothing but their Shinobi tag as proof of having existed.
She opened her eyes again and looked toward the window. The evening sun painted the rooftops of Konoha in warm gold, but the light didn't quite reach the corners of her expression.
Murakami was already so far ahead, too far, maybe.
The same boy who once sat silently in the orphanage corner, watching everything and saying nothing, had grown into someone who could vanish from a room without so much as a ripple, who spoke of a lack of presence like it was a weapon, who looked at graduation not as a beginning but as the start of a war he intended to win before it even began.
Hina clenched her fists as she thought of the grim future that awaited him as a Shinobi.
Truth be told, she didn't want him going down this path, and considering everything he's built for himself in the Lotus store, she wished for that even less.
But then, that wasn't it for him. The Lotus store was just a means to an end.
An end she had no inkling about.
She wasn't afraid of what he might become.
She was afraid of what he might have to do to get there, and of the day he might look back and realize how much of himself he'd left behind along the way.
A small, rueful smile curved her lips.
"You'd better not forget where you came from, Murakami-kun," she said to the empty room. "Because I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere."
She straightened, turned her attention to the scroll on her table and began reviewing the next column of figures.
The store wouldn't run itself.
And neither would the terrifyingly brilliant little brother she had quietly sworn, years ago, in the dim light of the orphanage dormitory, to protect, no matter how far he walked into the dark.