Chương 130: Sunset Part 1

After the team exercise Kaen left without a word. He did not even try to speak to anyone, just turned his back on us and walked away as if the rest of the world did not exist. That was Kaen in a nutshell, bitter, proud, and too stubborn to even attempt a normal interaction. I did not waste energy worrying about it. Sena, on the other hand, gave me a small smile and gestured for me to join her as she walked toward the village.

The afternoon sun stretched long across the streets, warm against my shoulders as we took a slow path together. For a few minutes we did not say much, just shared the quiet. When we reached a crossroad, she gave me a polite goodbye and turned off toward her home. I watched her go for a moment before continuing on alone. My steps carried me not toward my own flat, and certainly not back to regular Academy lessons. I still disliked those as much as ever. Instead, I was headed to another session with Master Shuzo.

For weeks he had been filling my head with fuinjutsu as if I were an endless container, as if time itself was slipping away and he had to cram in every lesson before it ran out. He pushed our schedule harder with each passing day, never slowing down, never taking breaks. I had no idea why he was pressing so much urgency into my training, but I refused to waste it. I tried to absorb everything he gave me as fast as my mind would allow. Shadow clones became my lifeline in this.

With them I could practice multiple seals at once, repeating the patterns until they burned into memory. I knew Master Shuzo disliked it. I saw the flicker in his eyes when I summoned clones. But he never stopped me, so I never stopped using them. The backlash was tolerable, since they were only applying what I already knew. The risk was worth the speed. Once, though, one of my clones went too far. It experimented, changed a detail, and somehow improved a seal slightly.

When the memory came back, it hit me like a hammer. I collapsed to the ground, gripping my skull, pain drilling into me for a solid ten minutes. Master Shuzo just stood there, arms folded, gaze cool. When I finally lifted my head, he said flatly, "I told you not to use that jutsu so much," before returning to his scrolls. Not a shred of sympathy, only the lesson. Yet when I thought of Master Shuzo now, my mind was not on his harshness. It was on the things that unsettled me.

What worried me most was his mind, because there were signs I could not ignore. At first they were small. A pause in his speech. A moment of stuttering. A slip in concentration that lasted barely a breath. I brushed it off in the beginning. Everyone falters. Even Master Shuzo. But then it grew worse. His lapses stretched longer. He forgot details, and at times even lost the thread of conversations altogether.

Other moments he would look around the room with a blank stare, as if he had forgotten not only where he was, but why he was there at all. He usually snapped back quickly, brushing it off with a scowl or a sharp comment. But lately the lapses dragged on. He would stand in silence, lost, unfocused, a shadow of the sharp man he had always been. And more than that, he was struggling with his emotions. Patience slipped from him more often, his voice rising in irritation when it never had before.

His control was fading, and for someone who had built his life around his mind, I knew that must have been torment. The thought twisted in me until it hurt. Watching him lose what he valued most was painful, but watching him know it was happening was worse. I could see it in his eyes when he recovered, that awareness of decline. It broke me a little every time, and I knew it broke him far more.

For a man who built his life on clarity and control, losing command over his own thoughts was the cruelest fate imaginable. By the time I reached the academy, my chest was heavy with unease. I entered the usual hallway, pressed a hand to the wall, and channeled chakra into the seal. The hidden door appeared, and I stepped through, my movements practiced from repetition. Master Shuzo was there, seated as always in his chair, eyes scanning advanced scrolls filled with complex seals.

Without a word he raised an eyebrow, tilted his head toward a pile of blank tags stacked high, and returned to his reading. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I sighed and formed the hand sign. Three shadow clones appeared, each glaring at me like I had ruined their afternoon. I narrowed my eyes at them.

"Well, take a picture, it will last longer." One clone lifted a finger to argue, and I cut him off.

"I will be studying advanced intermediate seals, you already know that, so stop pretending you suffer more than me." Another clone caught the first by the wrist, lowering his hand with a suspicious look, and then all three trudged to the pile of tags and began their work. Master Shuzo's voice carried an amused tone.

"Your clones behave strangely. I have never seen shadow clones act so independently."

"They need to," I answered.

"If they were identical to me, I would lose my mind. They have to be different, even if only a little."

"Do you create that distinction on purpose?" he asked. I shook my head.

"They were always like that. I think it comes from my subconscious." His lips curved slightly.

"You do have interesting thoughts from time to time." I smirked and unrolled the scroll. Hours slipped away as I studied, breaking down seal structures, enlarging parts to understand their functions, asking for his guidance when needed. My clones finished their pile and dispelled, leaving me with a mild headache but nothing serious. I kept reading, scribbling notes, and applying seals under his supervision. When I reached the end of the scroll, I leaned back with a grin.

"Look at that, Master Shuzo. Only a few scrolls left before I finish the intermediate set. You must be proud of having such a brilliant student." I added the arrogance deliberately, hoping to cheer him up. At times it earned a small smile, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Other times it even amused him. But this time, no reply came. I frowned, turning slowly toward him, a prickle of unease climbing my spine. Master Shuzo was staring at me, blinking slowly. His face was different. Not stern. Not thoughtful.

Empty. His eyes lacked their usual sharpness, no light in them at all. A cold feeling slid into my stomach. He looked around, lost. I forced myself to stay calm. This had happened before. Another lapse. I told myself not to panic. All I needed to do was wait it out, smile, and reassure him until he returned to himself. But something was wrong. This time it was not short. Panic rose in his eyes. He shot upright so fast the chair clattered back, startling him further. His head whipped around wildly.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I froze. His panic was rising fast, sharper than I had ever seen before, and it worried me. His episodes had never been this intense. I stood, hands raised in a calming gesture.

"I am Noa, your fuinjutsu student. You are Master Shuzo. You are safe here." I smiled as warmly as I could manage. I had learned that staying calm helped him when these episodes struck. But this time my words did nothing. His breathing turned rapid, his chest heaving as fear consumed his face. He darted his eyes around the room, searching desperately for an exit. Finding none only pushed his panic higher until it exploded into full terror.

He stumbled backward, tripped on the fallen chair, and crashed into the shelves. The back of his head struck wood with a sickening thud before he collapsed to the floor.

"Master!" I rushed forward. He tried to shove me away, but without chakra behind it he was weak. I caught him easily, pressing my hand against the back of his head. Warm blood coated my fingers. Panic flared through me, and he saw it on my face, which only deepened his terror. I forced myself to breathe and checked the wound. Relief came in a rush. It was not as bad as I first feared, just a cut to the scalp. Painful, but not life-threatening.

I sat down in front of him, still holding his hand as he pressed the back of his head and pulled it forward to look at the blood. The sight shattered him. His eyes widened, tears spilling down his face. He sobbed, trembling, the blood smearing across his fingers. I caught his hand, trying to cover the red and keep it from his sight. Forcing my voice steady, I whispered, "It is alright. You are fine. Do not be afraid. I am here." His fear shifted to anguish.

He stared at his bloody hand, then at me, and the tears only flowed harder.

"I hate this," he choked out between sobs.

"I am scared." The weight of his words hit me harder than any strike, heavier than any wound I had ever endured. I stayed where I was, gripping his hand tightly, refusing to move, afraid that if I left him alone even for a moment he might hurt himself again. Somewhere in the middle of his sobbing, the light slowly began to return to his eyes. Recognition stirred, creeping back piece by piece until he seemed to remember where he was and who I was. But the tears did not stop.

If anything, they fell harder, as though awareness only deepened the pain rather than easing it. I had seen his lapses before, but this was different. Master Shuzo was being broken by his own failing mind.