Kotetsu sat by himself in the family tent, inspecting his arms and hands after his scuffle with Gakuji and his friends. He had struck the boys as hard as he could, and his hands were sore and stiff. He didn’t know exactly how hard he would have to hit for them to go down. He contemplated the rush of excitement he experienced during the fight. It made him feel as if he could split a rock in half. After the fight had finished, he had been hit with a wave of fear after the clan elder, Tomoji, had confronted him. Not many of the adults in the clan gave Kotetsu a hard time, besides the elder and a few others. Kotetsu was suddenly interrupted mid speculation as Masato walked through the tent flap. Kotetsu looked up at the clan leader, only to see a rigid face stare back down at him. Masato stood there in the entrance, staring at Kotetsu for a moment, before speaking in a stern but steady voice.

  “Did that make you feel strong?”

  Kotetsu blinked.

  “I-”

  “The others told me what you did. Emilia as well.” Masato cut his son off.

  Kotetsu almost looked away, but kept his eyes locked on the clan leader's.

  “What you did… That is not strength. That is not being good. I am disappointed in you.” Masato continued.

  Kotetsu waited a moment before speaking.

  “But… You said that I should… That I need to beat my problems into the dirt.” Kotetsu said, attempting to pull defiance. Masato's stare grew harsh. Kotetsu felt a rock sink into his gut.

  “Were those boys a problem to you? Did they attempt to hurt you, or hurt your friends? Were they going to hurt anyone? Those boys are members of the clan, Kotetsu.” Masato growled. He sighed, grabbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

  “Emilia beats them up all the time…” Kotetsu weakly responded.

  “Emilia teaches. She does not hurt unless someone truly deserves it. You know that she has a loose temper, but you did not fight out of anger. You did not break that boy's foot out of anger. You broke it because you were practicing. We do not break our people to find out how strong we are, Kotetsu.”

  As Masato spoke, his voice grew sturdier and louder, until he was almost shouting down at the boy, quivering on the ground. Masato kneeled down in front of Kotetsu.

  “How… How will I know when I’m strong?” Kotetsu asked in a shaky voice.

  Masato looked down at Kotetsu for a long moment. The small boy would need a haircut soon, he thought. Kotetsu began to get his shaking under control, taking controlled breaths. Masato slowly reached out with a closed fist and placed it gently over Kotetsu's chest.

  “You’ll know when.” Masato spoke in a quiet voice. Then, without notice, he stood up.

  “I have to punish you for this, Kotetsu. The elders are watching now. You will be confined to washing clothes for the next month.” Masato ordered.

  Kotetsu looked up with a sudden, horrified expression.

  “Even the underwear?” Kotetsu asked disbelievingly.

  “Yes.”

  Masato walked back through the tent flap as Kotetsu sat and dreaded the coming days.

  —

  Tomoji had an idea. Days following the incident from that pest, Tomoji began to make a plan to get rid of the brat once and for all. And to do that, he would have to grant Masato's wish for the boy. All he needed to do was convince the other elders now. If he recalled right, the child should be the appropriate age to be accepted as a member of the clan. All he needed was the perfect opportunity. These next few months would pass by quickly.

  —

  Kotetsu braved the pile of stinking clothes he found in the woven basket. Lifting the basket up and carefully keeping it at arm’s length, he made his way slowly to the washing tubs. This had been his routine for weeks now. After spending most of his day helping carry and wash dirty clothes, rags, towels and blankets, he would sneak off to the crevice to practice his Ninjutsu. After months of working on and refining his process, he had finally begun to understand the intricacies of Ninjutsu. At least, that’s what he thought. Sitting down in front of a new pile of sticks, he carefully weaved his hands through a sequence of signs, focusing on the feeling of power that flowed just under his skin. He felt that power shift and transform with each new formation of his hands. The actual sensation was indescribable from his current understanding, but it felt much like moulding clay with his bare hands.

  He imagined a spark igniting in his palms. Reaching out to the sticks, eyes closed, he picked up one twig and held it loosely. It burst into flames. Eyes opening, he dropped the stick, surprised. The fire had never appeared so quickly before. He watched the stick tumble back down to the pile of leaves and branches, the fire jumping about. He stared into the impromptu campfire for a moment. Then he looked down at his hand, not able to see or feel any burns. His heart soared from the act of finally succeeding in learning his first jutsu.

  The next few months passed by in a blur. Kotetsu was relinquished of his clothes washing punishment, and spent the whole day reveling in not having to smell dirty socks. He went back to a steady training routine soon after. Emilia had been absent recently, being given more tasks to carry out. The Hyuuga clan was not usually contracted for combat missions. They were instead commissioned for more delicate tasks, such as acting as peace brokers between warring groups or standing as a threat against an opposing force. After all, no shinobi in their right mind would willingly fight against a group of skilled Hyuuga members, even a small assembly. The clan spent countless bloody years cultivating this reputation, and carried it with deft skill.

  —

  Tomoji called Masato to his tent for a private discussion. Masato entered the spacious tent, admiring the lush pelts and rugs that adorned the floor. Tomoji sat in the center of the space, next to a small table that held a teapot and a single cup. The man had loose grey hair that spilled over and down his back. His face was covered in a black and grey beard that only extended a few inches down his chin. Tomoji did not say anything as Masato entered and took a seat opposite the elder.

  “I have news, Masato.” Tomoji began.

  The clan leader did not speak. He observed the teapot instead, admiring the design.

  “It is about your boy. The other elders and I have agreed, for once. The child will be allowed to become a member of our clan.” The elder spoke in a subdued but weary voice, as if disgruntled to be giving this news.

  Masato looked up from the teapot suddenly.

  “Really? You have agreed to accept Kotetsu if he succeeds in a mission?” Masato asked, his brow shooting to the top of his forehead.

  “Yes.” Tomoji said displeasingly.

  Masato looked back down at the teapot. Before he could elate any further, Tomoji spoke again.

  “On one condition.” Tomoji said. His face became neutral.

  “The boy will accompany me on a special mission. We have been asked to serve as peace representatives between two lords. It shall serve as a learning experience for the boy.”

  A slight smile crept upon his face as he spoke.

  Masato looked up and met the elder’s eyes. He saw contempt. Masato felt his face grow hostile, but reigned it in after a moment. The elder sneered.

  “We will leave in three days. Prepare the child. You are dismissed.”

  As Masato stood up and began to leave, Tomoji spoke a final passing comment.

  “The other elders are all in agreement with this plan. There is nothing you can do to change their minds now, Masato. Good day.”

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  Masato felt the urge to punch something.

  —

  Gakuji entered the tent of the elder. Ignoring all of the rugs and decorative pelts, he went forward and sat down.

  “Hello, grandfather. You wanted to see me?” Gakuji started. There were two cups on the small table, and he picked one up to drink.

  Tomoji studied his grandson’s appearance. The boy had just come back from a task mere minutes ago. His clothes were torn along his arms and chest, and his short light brown hair was matted. Tomoji had an adult waiting and watching for Gakuji to get back, to have the boy brought straight to him. He had begun to grow his hair to full length as an acknowledgement of his skill.

  “I have a duty for you, grandson. It is of the utmost importance.” Tomoji got straight to business.

  Gakuji widened his eyes. “What do you need from me?”

  “It is about Kotetsu. He will be accompanying me on an assignment in the following days. I do not trust Masato to keep his hands out of the matter.” Tomoji began.

  The elder explained what he needed from Gakuji. As the boy listened, he drew a slow smile.

  “It will be done, grandfather.” Gakuji said. He got up and left the tent.

  —

  Kotetsu had spent only half of his day out in the woods training. Emilia was absent again as she had left earlier that day for a long mission. Enduring through the winter months was not Kotetsu’s favorite pastime, but he made due. He hurried along the now well-worn path back to the camp. Scurrying along, Kotetsu quickly made his way to his family’s tents, where he knew warm blankets and fresh clothes awaited him. He opened up his personal tent to find that it was not empty. Masato sat in the middle, back to the tent flap. His back was straight and head slumped forward. Kotetsu stopped dead, staring at his father. Masato’s long black hair was held in a loose knot as it flowed down his back.

  “Sit.” Masato commanded.

  Wondering what he did this time, Kotetsu closed the tent flap and sat cross legged behind Masato. He pondered blaming Emilia. He doubted it would work.

  “You are being given a mission.” Masato said, cutting through Kotetsu’s thoughts.

  Kotetsu simultaneously felt relieved, incredulous, and suspicious. He spoke.

  “What kind of mission?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I want you to reject it.” Masato said in a harsh tone.

  “You are not to accept this task. Or any task, for that matter.”

  Kotetsu heard something in Masato’s voice he had only heard a handful of times. He heard fear.

  “But… Doesn’t that mean I have to leave? Rejecting an order given directly means… Banishment?” Kotetsu asked.

  “Yes. But, you will not be banished.” Masato confirmed.

  “How?”

  “The trial of survival. You are to take this instead.” Masato said, turning himself around and looking down at his son.

  “What’s that?” Kotetsu questioned.

  “One of the most challenging experiences you will have. You will still have to leave the clan, but you must travel alone for two years, gaining your own experiences. You will have no help. The clan will not take you back until you have survived the time limit.” Masato recited.

  Kotetsu’s throat suddenly felt dry. He swallowed a few times, trying to wet his tongue. He asked the first question that came.

  “Has anyone else ever survived?”

  Masato continued to stare at his son, eyes fatigued.

  “Yes, once, long ago.”

  Masato’s face shifted. Kotetsu did not recognise the expression.

  “I am the last one to have taken the trial and lived.”

  Kotetsu did not outwardly react. Inside, he felt a sense of dread slowly rise from the depth of his core. It corroded everything it touched, leaving his gut feeling cold and heavy like metal.

  “I am here to give you a late birthday gift.” Masato suddenly interrupted the tense atmosphere. From behind his back, he pulled forward a long, sleek object. A thin grey strap was loosely attached to each end of the object. Kotetsu spotted intricate etchings carved up and down the blackness, barely visible in the evening light seeping through the tent. It was a sword. Kotetsu knew this sword, though he had only seen it last years ago, when Masato showed it to him during a retelling of a certain story.

  The sword belonged to his deceased father.

  “I have never been able to unsheath this blade.” Masato said, inspecting the cool grey handle and running his hand along the black leather. He held the blade out with both hands. Kotetsu hesitated in taking it, then lightly clasped it with both hands. The sword almost dropped out of his grip, the weight surprising Kotetsu. He brought the sheathed blade up to his face to inspect the etches. They seemed to be a written language, though he couldn’t read it. Thinking of what Masato said, he firmly grasped the handle and sheath with both hands. He began to pull. The sword glided out of the leather sheath, revealing a deep green blade with a single silver lined edge.

  As Kotetsu revealed more of the blade, which he knew to be a katana, his reflection became clearly visible along the spine. Masato sat, stunned at the blade. Kotetsu also sat stunned as he attempted to reveal more of the blade.

  But before Kotetsu could reveal the entire length, a commotion arose from outside, forcing the tent flap open. Kotetsu turned around to come face to face with Gakuji. He snapped the sword shut in its sheath.

  “Having fun, twit?” Gakuji taunted. He pulled his head out of the tent. Masato got up and moved past Kotetsu, out of the tent, getting into a sudden heated discussion with Gakuji. Kotetsu heard very little as his attention was still on the sword in his hands. Before he had even touched the blade, some tiny part of him knew. Before uncovering the blade, he knew. He inspected that feeling. Somehow, Kotetsu had just known that the sword would be green.

  —

  Syuka had spent the rest of the night helping to pack Kotetsu’s bag. She instructed him in a motherly tone as he pulled apart and put together his travel bag again and again, always seeming to get something wrong or having misplaced some object, causing Syuka to tell him to do it all over again. She did not pack his bag for him. Kotetsu understood that this was important for him to learn now. After spending hours learning and unlearning the process, Syuka and Kotetsu sat silently in the dark tent, the illumination of a single candle all that lit the space. Kotetsu didn’t know what to say. He looked up when she reached forward, arms out, pulling him into a hug. Her long dark hair flowed over his face, absorbing his tears.

  —

  Kotetsu was awoken by the sound of cloth ripping. He looked around his dim tent in confusion, until he caught the faint glow of the moon through his tent flap, revealing a figure standing in the gloom.

  “Get up, quickly.” Masato said.

  Kotetsu felt the weight of sleep vanish as adrenaline took hold. He reached over, grabbed his clothes from yesterday, and slung his bag over his back. He had carefully attached the strap of his father’s blade to his pack the night before, leaving the pack particularly swollen. Kotetsu waddled out from under the held tent flap, careful not to stumble into anything. He looked up into his father’s unseen face.

  “The elder is looking for you. It is time for you to leave. Now.” Masato ordered. His voice remained steady but urgent.

  Kotetsu felt a new weight press upon him. The sudden weight of not wanting to go. He wanted to climb back into his tent and pretend that everything was alright. But, he knew better.

  He followed close behind as Masato carved a winding path through the camp toward the western edge. They soon approached the entrance to the camp.

  An arm swooped down right in front of Kotetsu, aiming directly for his neck. He barely had any time to process the movement, or the new figure. Before the arm could break his neck, it was stopped. Masato had turned in the blink of an eye. His hand held the arm in place, neither moving. Kotetsu looked aside to the figure that towered over him. It was Tomoji, the clan elder. Kotetsu could just barely make out the silhouette of rage that covered the elder’s face.

  “Your boy will die right here, Masato.” Tomoji spat.

  “He will die of old age. You will die by my hand if you move.” Masato countered.

  Kotetsu suddenly felt like a bug under the feet of two giants.

  Masato looked angrily down at Kotetsu.

  “RUN.” He ordered.

  Kotetsu obeyed with no objection, weaving around the two and sprinting for the entrance. He made it barely 100 feet before another figure fell to the ground in front of him from above. A boy.

  Gakuji.

  Kotetsu skid to a halt, carried forward by the momentum of his bag. He nervously eyed each direction, but saw no direct escape.

  Another figure suddenly appeared in front of him.

  For a second, Kotetsu thought it was Emilia. She was out on a mission, though, and wouldn’t be back for another day at least. He recognised the form in the moonlight. It was Niko, his back to Kotetsu.

  “You should get out of here, Kotetsu. I’ll handle this jerk.” Niko said, grabbing Gakuji’s attention.

  “You will stay right where you are, pig. I’m going to enjoy beating you until you puke.” Gakuji threatened Kotetsu. He turned to Niko.

  “Step aside, unless you desire punishment as well.” Gakuji warned Niko. Niko didn’t react.

  Kotetsu had to ask. “Why? Why are you risking yourself, Niko? I can handle him! Don’t get yourself banished!” He cried out.

  Niko turned his head to Kotetsu and smirked. His next words would forever stay in Kotetsu’s mind, burned into his memory right next to that stupid face.

  “It’s simple. Your sister is hot.”

  While both Kotetsu and Gakuji were caught completely off guard by his statement, Niko rushed forward and took a swing right at Gakuji’s head. The boy ducked low, barely dodging the passing fist. Gakuji would not be caught by another sneak attack ever again. The two began to fight, and Kotetsu realised they were seriously trying to hurt each other. After one particularly strenuous exchange, Niko turned back and yelled.

  “Go, RUN!”

  The words jolted Kotetsu, and he ran. Turning one look behind him, he saw Niko climbing on top of Gakuji, and further behind, the still standing figures of his father and the elder. He turned back forward for the last time, and fled his home.