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Qianyu walked through the streets of Konoha, heading for the Ninja Academy.
There was no other route. His home was too remote, forcing him to cut through the village proper. He wasn't a masochist—the venomous whispers and sharp-edged glances scraped against his nerves. Every trip was a trial.
He finally slipped into his classroom, a ghost drifting to his usual haunt: the back corner, furthest from the door. The seats in front and to his right sat empty. No one wanted the pariah for a neighbor. Three years of this. An island in a sea of chatter.
He slumped into his chair, dropping his chin onto folded arms. He had been diligent in those three years, absorbing every scrap of knowledge. Strength was the only way out of this hell. He'd even shown a spark of talent early on. When they first learned to mold chakra, most students took a day or two to feel the first flicker. He'd managed it in half a day. A small, private victory.
But even that was overshadowed. There was always Minato Namikaze. The civilian-born prodigy who had systematically dismantled the egos of every clan heir—Uchiha, Hyūga, Nara—to claim the top spot. With his sunny disposition and handsome face, Minato was the academy's golden boy, universally loved. Qianyu was just as handsome, but he was treated like a plague.
He rested his head on the desk, waiting for class to start. His routine was simple: go to school, study, and wait for Uzumaki Kushina to appear. For now, that was all he could do.
His mind, however, refused to stay idle. Ever since seeing the village's hypocrisy laid bare, he'd been picking apart memories. One story, in particular, nagged at him—the tale of how Minato Namikaze rescued Uzumaki Kushina.
It didn't add up.
According to the story, when they were both genin, Kushina was kidnapped by three Kumo-nin, each at least Tokubetsu Jōnin level. She was nearly dragged across the border when Minato—alone—somehow found her trail, caught up, and defeated all three seasoned enemies. A flawless hero's tale.
Bullshit.
First, a fresh genin taking out three elite Kumo assassins? Unlikely, even for a prodigy. Second, and more glaring: how did three foreign ninja sneak a captive all the way to the border without Konoha's sensor division raising a single alarm? Were they all on vacation?
Qianyu's thoughts spiraled. He started from the worst possible assumption and worked backwards. Then, a cold clarity cut through the noise. He shot up, his eyes locking onto Minato, who was chatting with friends.
The Nine-Tails' vessel.
Kushina wasn't the jinchūriki yet. The first vessel, Mito Uzumaki, was nearing the end of her life. Konoha, desperate to maintain its tailed beast deterrent, needed a new container. They'd brought Kushina, a surviving Uzumaki, to the village for this exact purpose. A strategic asset. She never had a choice.
He remembered her own words from fragmented memories: a crushing loneliness, a suffocating reality she was forced to accept. Why accept such a fate? First, because she couldn't change it. But second… because of a bond. A bond with a certain sunny-haired boy.
What if the entire "rescue" was staged? Orchestrated by Konoha's high command to forge that very bond? To tie the lonely girl to the brilliant boy who "saved" her. To use that connection as a chain, binding her willingly to her destiny as the village's new cage.
The pieces clicked into place with a terrifying finality. If he was right, Kushina was a pawn from the start. A tool.
As if sensing the stare, Minato glanced over.
Qianyu's gaze snapped away, fixing on a random crack in the wall. His heart hammered against his ribs.
A beat later, Minato turned back to his friends, dismissing the odd feeling.
Qianyu let out a slow breath. Calm down. The truth didn't matter for his own plans. He was getting out. All that mattered was power. The Third Great Shinobi War was coming—a bloody harvest of Witness Points. He needed to be strong enough to reap it, not become another casualty.
The classroom door swung open.
Their instructor, Masada Hayabusa, marched in. And trailing behind him…
A small figure with a mane of brilliant red hair. Uzumaki Kushina.
She stood beside the teacher, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers twisting together.
"Class, we have a new transfer student starting today," Masada announced.
Kushina took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and blurted out, "I'm Uzumaki Kushina, dattebane!"
Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with mortification. The verbal tic had slipped out.
Qianyu watched. Cute.
The class, however, was less charitable. "Look at that hair. Unbelievable." "How does it even get that red?" "Weird."
The whispers were like needles. Kushina's hand crept up to touch a strand of her vibrant hair, insecurity flickering in her eyes.
"Quiet! All of you!" Masada barked.
The laughter died, but the mocking stares remained. Kushina's small frame trembled. Then her fists clenched, knuckles white. She lifted her chin, defiance blazing in her eyes.
"I… I'm going to be this village's first female Hokage!" she declared, her voice ringing sharp and clear in the stunned silence.
The class gaped.
Then, from the front of the room, Minato Namikaze stood up. He turned, offering Kushina a warm, sincere smile. "That's a wonderful dream. I want to become a Hokage who earns the acknowledgment of everyone in the village, too."
Kushina's nose scrunched up. She eyed the blond boy. He looks like a pretty-boy. Soft. No way someone like that could be Hokage, she thought, unimpressed.
Masada sighed, scanning the room for an empty seat. His gaze landed on the isolated corner, on Qianyu, and his expression tightened with distaste.
"No choice. You, find a spot over there for now." He pointed a dismissive finger.
Kushina followed the gesture. A whole classroom, but a wide, empty buffer surrounded one boy in the back. Ostracized. She also caught the gleeful looks other students shot her way. They think this is a punishment?
Anger flushed her cheeks. She stomped down the aisle, her red hair a banner of irritation, and dropped into the empty seat near Qianyu with a firm thump. Her jaw was set, her eyes flashing a challenge at anyone who dared look.
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