The boy's small legs pounded the forest floor, each step quick and desperate. Behind him, eight figures followed, their laughter slicing through the trees like blades. Hunters.
He ducked under a low branch, vaulted over a gnarled root — and froze.
Three figures blocked his path. He skidded to a halt, chest heaving.
"There's no need to run," said the one in front, his voice sharp, commanding — the captain. "We'll catch you either way."
The boy frowned. "Why are you chasing me? What did I do?"
"You did nothing," the captain replied, hand resting casually on his weapon. "But your clan… is our target."
The boy tilted his head. "Target? Why? I haven't hurt anyone."
The captain's lips curved into a cold smirk. "Your clan is strong. We hunters make our names by taking down the strong — even if that means wiping them out."
The boy lowered his gaze, shoulders trembling — then laughed.
A quiet chuckle grew into full, uncontrollable laughter. "Hahaha! You're joking, right?"
The hunters exchanged confused glances.
"Why are you laughing?" one asked.
"Captain, maybe his team is nearby?" another suggested.
"Idiot," snapped the captain. "He's alone."
Still laughing, the boy wiped a tear. "You guys… you're about the same age as Miri."
The captain frowned. "Who's that?"
"No idea," the boy shrugged. "But she's eight. Guessing you are too? And you think you can wipe out a whole clan? That's… hilarious."
The hunters stiffened, clearly insulted.
"Watch your mouth," one muttered. "We're here because you're the weakest left."
"Oh, I see," the boy said, pretending to ponder. "Then why can't I call for help? Just because it's a forest?"
The captain's smile turned thin. "No. To your village… you're already dead."
The boy's smile faltered. His tiny frame trembled. "…What did you say?"
"You never returned after the Third Shinobi War," the captain said flatly. "Your village assumes you're gone."
A heavy silence fell over the clearing. Then, in a quiet, trembling voice, the boy whispered,
"If I'm already dead to them… then what's the point of fighting?"
He looked at each hunter in turn. "You don't have to be my enemies. I don't care what people say. I just want to live — laugh — maybe even have friends."
Sas, the youngest hunter, hesitated. The captain's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"You're wasting your breath," the captain finally muttered. "Words won't change the mission."
The boy's faint smile returned. "Maybe not. But they might change your hearts."
He drew a deep breath, eyes steady. "I'm alive. I'll return to my family. You can try to stop me — but you'll fail. Every time."
The captain smirked. "And why should we believe that?"
"Because…" the boy swallowed, forcing a shaky grin, "I won the running race at my academy. So… yeah. I can run."
Sas snorted. "Lucky. I never finished a race."
Ren, another hunter, sighed. "You never joined one."
"Oh… right," Sas muttered.
The boy blinked, voice soft but firm. "Listen, I don't want anyone hurt. You can come with me — or keep chasing me. But don't make me fight. I hate violence. Push me… and I will defend myself."
Sas glanced at the captain. "Cap, what now?"
"If he runs, we chase," the captain said without hesitation.
"Cap, we've already chased him two kilometers," Sas complained.
The captain chuckled. "Try four."
The boy's lips curved into a grin. "Then good luck."
He turned and sprinted, vanishing between the trees.
"Hey—wait!" Ren called, but the wind swallowed his words.
A single dry leaf drifted down, spinning lazily to the forest floor. Silence reclaimed the woods, fading into black.
The darkness lifted, replaced by the soft glow of morning.
"Hi, I'm Kaito Inazuma," a small voice said, stretching and yawning. At four years old, he was tiny, still drowsy, blinking at the empty futon beside him. Cheeks puffed in frustration — he'd overslept again.
Groaning, he rolled off the futon and hurried to wash up. Cold water splashed his face, chasing away the last of his dreams.
Barefoot, he tiptoed through the cool morning hall, careful not to wake anyone.
"Caught you! Late again, sleepyhead!"
Kaito turned to see Ayame, seated cross-legged on the floor, stacking wooden blocks into a precarious tower. Sunlight fell across her hair as she balanced the next block with trembling fingers.
"Kaito! You're already awake? You're missing all the fun!" she exclaimed.
"The ceiling?" His eyes widened. "That's impossible!"
Ayame smirked. "Not if we keep building."
Side by side, they stacked block after block. The tower swayed dangerously, but never fell. Their laughter spilled through the room, golden as the sunlight streaming through the window.
Halfway through, Kaito froze. "Wait — I gotta pee!"
"Oh! Me too!" Ayame admitted.
"Then why didn't you go before?" he asked.
"Because… you said I shouldn't go alone," she murmured.
He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I'm going first!"
He dashed off, fumbling with his shoes.
"Wait! You wore them wrong!" Ayame shouted, only to realize hers were on backward too.
"You did the same!" Kaito laughed.
She flushed red. "N-no I didn't!"
"Race you!" he shouted, sprinting down the hall.
"Hey! No fair!" she yelled, chasing him.
At the small restaurant, Kaito stopped — Ayame was already there, smirking.
"You're slow," she teased.
Ignoring her, he ran to Yuji, the shop owner. "Yuji-san! I really need to go!"
Yuji laughed, taking his hand. "Alright, alright. Let's go before you explode."
While they were gone, Ayame noticed Miri, Yuji's daughter, playing near the wall.
"Miri… can I play with you?" she asked softly.
Miri hesitated. "No… not today."
Ayame's smile faltered, but she said nothing, simply waiting for Kaito.
Moments later, he returned. "We're gonna eat rice balls, right, Yuji-san?"
Yuji grinned. "And today, you don't even have to pay."
Kaito puffed his cheeks. "Then you eat them yourself!"
He plopped down beside Ayame as Yuji chuckled and carried a tray toward the table.
Miri tugged at Yuji's sleeve. "Papa… why do you always give them food? They're not even family. Everyone says they're weird… and that Kaito's a monster. When I played with them, the other kids called me names. I don't know what to do…"
Yuji knelt to her level, calm and steady. "Miri, these two are my best friend's children — that makes them family to me. People say cruel things when they don't understand. Kindness doesn't need permission. If someone needs help, we help."
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "And about those names… you decide who someone is. Don't let the world choose for you."
Standing, tray in hand, he smiled warmly. "Remember, Kaito isn't a monster. He's just a boy with a big heart."
Yuji set the plate of rice balls before the twins.
Kaito's eyes sparkled as he briefly held Ayame's hand, then reached for the food.
"Go ahead," Ayame whispered.
"Eat slowly," Yuji reminded.
They nodded, chewing quietly, the soft sounds blending with the morning breeze.
When the last rice ball was gone, Kaito wiped his mouth and grinned. "Let's finish it!"
"Finish what?" Yuji asked.
"Our mission — the blocks! They'll reach the ceiling!" Ayame giggled.
Together, they raced back home, older kids whispering, "That's the monster boy."
Ayame ignored them, Kaito kept his head low.
Back home, they scattered blocks across the floor.
"Ready?" Ayame asked.
"Always!" Kaito replied.
Piece by piece, they built — higher, steadier, brighter. The tower swayed, but never fell.
Finally, with the last block placed, Kaito gasped. "Look! It's touching the sky!"
"Don't sneeze, or it'll fall on us!" Ayame laughed.
They collapsed into laughter, turning cushions into mountains, chairs into race cars — their little home a world of adventure.
When the chaos settled, they lay side by side, exhausted.
"See? We did it," Ayame whispered.
"Yeah," Kaito said, brushing a pillow aside. "We're unstoppable."
Sunlight warmed the room. Their laughter faded into quiet peace. Monsters or not, they still had each other.