Rei walked beside his mother, her hand wrapped gently yet securely around his smaller one. Their pace was unhurried but purposeful, the soft cadence of footsteps echoing along the corridor's polished floor. The entourage moved ahead and behind them in a protective formation, their presence subtle but unmistakably deliberate. Two men in dark suits flanked the rear, shoulders squared, eyes always moving, without needing anyone to say the word.
Rei did not look at them directly, but he felt them.
The same quiet energy he had sensed earlier hovered beneath their composed appearances—contained, disciplined, and distinct from chakra. It pressed faintly against the edges of his awareness, neither aggressive nor passive, simply present. Power existed in this world as well, merely by another name and system.
They walked through broad hallways lined with polished wood paneling and understated artwork—landscape paintings in minimalist styles, calligraphy scrolls mounted behind glass, abstract pieces that suggested wealth without ostentation. Soft runners in deep burgundy muted their steps against marble floors that gleamed like still water. Glass walls at intervals framed sweeping views of the metropolis outside, the city spreading far below like a living map of lights, steel, and motion. From this height, Tokyo looked almost abstract—a geometric pattern of human ambition rendered in glass and concrete.
Staff members bowed as Rei and his mother passed, their movements precise and respectful yet careful not to intrude. Each one wore variations of formal attire—dark suits for the men, crisp blouses and skirts for the women—all bearing small pins on their lapels that featured a symbol Rei didn't yet recognize. Employees, then. Members of whatever organization operated from this building.
"Who owns this building, Mother?" Rei asked, pitching his voice with innocent curiosity, the way a child would ask about something that caught their attention.
His mother's chuckle was soft and indulgent. "Who else, my son?"
Rei looked upward at her with a carefully crafted expression of confusion, though he already had a hunch about the answer. The level of deference shown by the staff, the personal escort, the security detail—everything pointed to family ownership.
"You silly boy," his mother said, her tone warm with affection. "This is the headquarters of our family's organization, the Tsugikane Awakened Association." She paused, then continued with a note of pride threading through her words. "Your father's family, the Tsugikane, have been in charge of Minato Ward for decades. Even centuries, depending on how you count our lineage. Don't worry—you'll eventually be taught our family's history properly."
The revelation settled over Rei with the weight of confirmed suspicion.
Tsugikane. His family name in this new life. And not just any family, but one significant enough to maintain an entire association, to control territory within Tokyo, to command this level of resources and respect. His mother had mentioned earlier that he was his father's heir, that the outside world was dangerous for someone of his stature. Now that statement had context.
He was the son of a powerful man in a world that operated on different rules than the shinobi system, but with similar hierarchies and dangers.
How about Mother's family?
The question formed in his mind just as they arrived at a set of tall double doors. The wood was dark and richly grained, brass fixtures gleaming against its surface. Two staff members stood on either side, and they moved in synchronized precision to open the doors as Rei and his mother approached.
The entourage that had accompanied them stopped at the threshold. The bodyguards took up positions flanking the entrance, their stance relaxed but alert. Teijo offered a small bow to Rei's mother before stepping back.
They weren't needed inside, Rei realized. Whatever gathering awaited beyond these doors, it was meant to be exclusive. And as for security within the function hall itself—well, given what his mother had revealed about the nature of their guests, Rei had no doubt the room would be filled with people who could serve as their own protection.
The doors swung open, and Rei stepped inside with his mother.
The function hall enveloped them immediately in soft, golden light.
Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling—crystal and brass affairs that scattered light in gentle patterns across polished wooden floors and elegantly set tables. The space was large enough to accommodate perhaps a hundred people comfortably, but tonight it held maybe forty or fifty, creating an atmosphere of exclusivity rather than crowding. Round tables draped in cream-colored cloth occupied the outer edges of the room, each one set with fine china and crystal glassware that caught the light. A small stage occupied the far end of the hall, currently empty but clearly meant for speeches or presentations.
The air carried the faint scents of tea—green tea with its grassy notes, darker varieties with hints of caramel—mingling with the polish used on the wood and the expensive fabric of the guests' clothing. Voices washed through the space in gentle waves, creating a soundscape of measured conversation, quiet laughter, and greetings spoken with practiced poise.
Faces turned as they entered.
The shift in attention was subtle but unmistakable. Conversations didn't stop, but they paused fractionally. Heads inclined in acknowledgment. Eyes assessed more openly than was perhaps polite, tracking Rei and his mother's progress into the room.
Rei could feel attention settle on him—not crushing, not hostile, but unmistakably evaluative. People appraised him the way clans had once weighed the worth of heirs: quietly, thoroughly, without mercy in their conclusions. He recognized the look in their eyes because he'd seen it before, directed at him and at other young Uchiha who'd shown promise or carried important bloodlines.
Whispers threaded through the hum of the hall, spoken softly but not softly enough to escape his trained hearing.
"Is that child Hidetoshi's heir?"
"So that's the boy..."
"He doesn't look like much."
"I heard he's only five. Rather young to be brought to something like this."
"Testing the waters, perhaps. Seeing how he handles the pressure."
Their tones ranged from curious to dismissive to calculating. A few voices carried genuine interest, while others held the particular edge of people who saw a child as a future rival or obstacle. None of it surprised him.
This atmosphere was painfully familiar.
He had walked under gazes like these before—Uchiha elders measuring his worth before he could fully spell his name, shinobi whispering about prodigy and burden in equal measure, village leaders and clan heads placing expectations on a boy who had no say in the weight handed to him. He'd been evaluated, assessed, judged, and found either wanting or exceptional depending on the day and the observer's agenda.
The context was different, but the fundamental dynamic remained unchanged.
Rei's expression did not change.
His face remained composed, calm, almost serene—the look of a child quietly holding his mother's hand, taking in his surroundings with wide-eyed interest but no obvious anxiety. But beneath that still exterior, his thoughts flowed with the steady discipline of the person he had once been.
Pressure was nothing new.
Expectation was nothing new.
He understood instinctively how to move in situations like this—how to hold himself, where to direct his gaze, when to show emotion and when to maintain perfect neutrality. It was a skill set he'd developed before he'd turned ten in his previous life, refined through years of operating as a double agent where a single misstep in body language could expose him.
His mother's grip on his hand tightened just slightly, a subtle reassurance transmitted through touch. She angled herself just a fraction closer to him, a silent gesture that both sheltered and presented him at once. Pride, protection, and formality coexisted in the way she held herself—the bearing of a woman who understood that her son was being evaluated and was determined to show him at his best while also making clear that he remained under her protection.
Miya Tsugikane, Rei thought, filing away the name he'd learned moments ago. My mother in this life. She's aware of what's happening here, and she's handling it with grace.
Rei's gaze moved slowly across the hall, taking in details with the methodical precision that had once made him Konoha's youngest ANBU captain.
The guests were dressed formally—suits for the men in shades of black, navy, and charcoal gray, all expertly tailored. The women wore elegant dresses or modified kimono that combined traditional elements with contemporary fashion. Jewelry glinted at wrists and throats, subtle but clearly expensive. Everyone here had wealth, status, and the confidence that came from wielding power.
And beneath many of them, that same energy he'd sensed in the bodyguards thrummed quietly. Not everyone possessed it but those who did moved with a slight difference in bearing, a confidence that came from knowing they could defend themselves if circumstances required it.
Movement caught his attention, and Rei's focus sharpened.
A man was walking toward them through the crowd, and the people parted for him with unconscious deference. He was tall—perhaps six feet—with a build that suggested both physical fitness and the kind of strength that came from regular training rather than mere vanity. His suit was immaculate, dark navy with subtle pinstripes, fitted perfectly to his frame. His hair was black with hints of gray at the temples, styled with casual precision. His face was handsome in a mature way—strong jawline, high cheekbones, eyes that held intelligence and authority in equal measure.
But it was his presence that truly commanded attention.
He carried himself with an authority that didn't need to announce itself, the kind of natural gravitas that made people instinctively straighten when he approached. The energy Rei had sensed in the bodyguards was present in this man as well, but refined to a degree that suggested decades of discipline and mastery. It flowed through him like a controlled current, never spilling outward but always present, always ready.
Tsugikane Hidetoshi, Rei thought, piecing together context from the whispers he'd heard. This body's father. My father now.
The man's expression was composed and dignified as he moved through the hall, acknowledging greetings with subtle nods but not stopping until he reached his destination. Then, as his eyes settled on his wife and child, something shifted.
The authority remained, but it softened. Warmth entered his expression, genuine affection that transformed his features from imposing to almost gentle. His stride changed subtly, losing none of its confidence but gaining a quality of homecoming.
"Miya, you've arrived," Hidetoshi said, his voice carrying a warmth that was clearly reserved for family.
He leaned in to kiss his wife, a brief but genuine gesture of affection that spoke to a marriage built on more than political convenience. Then his attention shifted downward, dark eyes finding Rei with an expression that mixed paternal concern and assessment.
"How are you, my son?"
The question was simple, but Rei could hear the layers beneath it. Are you overwhelmed? Are you handling this? Do you understand what's happening here?
"I'm doing well, Father," Rei said, keeping his voice steady and reassuring.
Hidetoshi studied him for a moment longer, then seemed satisfied with what he saw. He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to Rei's eye level—a gesture that spoke to consideration and respect despite the age difference.
"Don't let this overwhelm you, son," Hidetoshi said quietly, his tone carrying both encouragement and instruction. "You are a scion of the Tsugikane family. My son and my heir. You'll experience more of this as you grow older, but for tonight, simply observe and learn."
Rei nodded, holding his father's gaze. "I understand, Father."
The response seemed to please Hidetoshi. His expression warmed further, a genuine smile touching his features as pride flickered in his eyes. He reached out to place a hand on Rei's shoulder, the grip firm but gentle.
A man in a dark suit approached from the side, moving with the careful deference of a subordinate interrupting an important moment. He leaned in close to Hidetoshi, murmuring something too quietly for most to hear.
But Rei caught fragments. "...guests arriving now... the Hoshin family..."
Hidetoshi's expression shifted fractionally, becoming more focused. He straightened, his hand leaving Rei's shoulder as he turned to address Miya.
"I need to greet some guests," he said, and though his tone remained calm, Rei detected urgency beneath the words. "I'll join you once the event begins properly."
Miya nodded with understanding, and Hidetoshi moved away with the same commanding presence, the crowd once again parting for him as he made his way toward the entrance.
Rei watched him go, noting the shift in energy. Whoever had just arrived warranted personal attention from the head of the Tsugikane family, which meant they held significant status. Important enough that protocol demanded immediate acknowledgment.
Before Rei could process this further, a new presence bounded into his awareness with considerably less dignity than his father's entrance.
"Miya! And my favorite nephew!"
The voice was jovial, loud enough to turn a few heads but not quite crossing the line into inappropriate. A man approached with a gait that suggested energy barely contained by social convention. He was younger than Hidetoshi—perhaps late twenties or early thirties—with similar features that marked them as related. Same dark hair, though styled more casually. Same basic bone structure, though his face carried a boyishness that Hidetoshi's mature authority lacked. His suit was expensive but worn with less formality, his tie slightly loosened, his whole demeanor suggesting someone who found rigid protocol tedious.
This had to be Kisho, Rei realized. His father's younger brother. His uncle.
"Good evening, Kisho," Miya said, her tone carrying the warmth of familiar affection mixed with the faint exasperation of someone dealing with a perpetually enthusiastic relative.
Kisho greeted her properly, then immediately turned his attention to Rei. His hand came down on Rei's back in a hearty pat that would have staggered a normal five-year-old.
"How are you, kid?" Kisho asked, his tone jovial and bright.
"I'm doing just fine, Uncle," Rei responded, keeping his voice appropriately childlike.
Kisho's expression shifted to mock hurt, his features arranging themselves into an exaggerated pout. "What happened to you, kid? You would always run to me every time you saw me. Am I not your favorite uncle anymore?"
He looked at Rei with what he probably thought were adorable puppy eyes, an expression that somehow managed to be both ridiculous and endearing on a grown man's face.
This must have been their usual dynamic, Rei thought, scrambling to respond appropriately. The previous Rei had been enthusiastic and affectionate, and Kisho is noticing the change in behavior.
"Yes, you're still my favorite uncle, Kisho," Rei said, mustering what energy he could manage, though he knew it couldn't compare to whatever enthusiasm the previous owner of this body would have displayed.
Kisho's expression immediately brightened. "Now that's my favorite nephew!" He reached out to pinch Rei's cheek with playful affection.
"He's your favorite because Rei is your only nephew," Miya observed dryly.
"Then ain't that better, my little Rei-kun?" Kisho said happily, completely unbothered by his sister-in-law's logic.
Rei simply looked at his uncle with an expression of mild forbearance, which seemed to amuse both adults.
Miya's expression shifted slightly, curiosity entering her features. "Who did my husband go to greet after we arrived? I know Hidetoshi makes a point of welcoming everyone personally, but there seemed to be some urgency."
Kisho's playful demeanor dimmed slightly, becoming more serious. "It's the Hoshin family."
Miya nodded with understanding, as if this explained everything.
Rei's brows furrowed fractionally. He'd caught the urgency in his father's departure, but he didn't yet understand the context. Who were the Hoshins, and why did their arrival warrant such immediate attention?
Kisho noticed Rei's confusion. His eyes sharpened with observation that suggested he was more perceptive than his jovial manner indicated.
"Hey, kid," Kisho said, his tone shifting to something more instructive. When he had Rei's full attention, he continued. "You're aware of what this event is, right?"
Rei considered the question carefully before answering. "It's a social gathering to commemorate our family's friends and allies."
Kisho nodded approvingly. "Good. Then are you familiar with our guests? Do you know who these people are?"
Rei shook his head honestly. He truly wasn't familiar with their family's guests, especially given that he'd only existed in this world for less than a day.
"Then let me fill you in on the different awakened families present here tonight," Kisho said, clearly settling into a teaching mode.
But before he could continue, a question rose in Rei's mind—one that felt crucial to understanding this world.
"What's the meaning of 'awakened'?" Rei asked.
Kisho paused, then glanced at Miya with a questioning look. Has the kid been told about the awakened society?
Miya shook her head slightly, indicating no.
"Figures," Kisho said with understanding. "I forgot you're still only five years old. That's why you haven't been told about awakeners yet." He crouched down slightly, bringing himself to a more conversational height with Rei.
"So basically, awakeners are people who have powers beyond normal human abilities," Kisho explained, his tone taking on the careful simplicity of someone explaining a complex concept to a child. "Though not everyone can become awakened, even if you belong to an awakened lineage. It requires something specific—a trigger, potential, the right circumstances. But once awakened, people can do things that ordinary humans cannot."
He paused, letting that sink in. "And all of the guests present here tonight? They're awakeners. All of them belong to awakened families that hold territory here in Tokyo."
Rei absorbed this information with careful attention, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. The energy he'd sensed, the power that felt like chakra but operated differently—this was what Kisho was describing. A system of power that existed in this world, controlled by specific families, organized into territorial hierarchies.
It wasn't so different from the shinobi world after all. Different mechanics, different terminology, but the fundamental structure remained: power concentrated in bloodlines, territory divided among powerful families, hierarchies maintained through strength and political alliances.
After giving Rei a moment to process, Kisho continued. "Are you aware of what part of Tokyo our Tsugikane Awakened Association is situated in?"
Rei shook his head.
"It's Minato City," Kisho said, and his voice carried unmistakable pride. "Minato belongs to the six central cities of Tokyo, and our Tsugikane family belongs to the six great families of Tokyo."
Six great families. The structure became clearer. A hierarchy within the hierarchy, elite families controlling the most important territories in the capital.
"So the guests that recently arrived," Rei said slowly, working through the logic, "the Hoshin family, they're part of the six great families as well?"
Kisho's face lit up with approval. "Bingo! You're quick on the uptake, kid. If it were another five-year-old, they would have already gotten bored and wandered off to find something fun." He grinned. "The Hoshin family's Hoshin Consortium is located in Chiyoda City, another one of the six central cities."
"What about the other awakened families present?" Rei asked, genuinely curious now. "Aside from the Hoshins?"
"They're awakened families based in the outer cities of Tokyo," Kisho explained. He placed a hand on Rei's shoulder, drawing him slightly closer in a gesture that felt protective and conspiratorial at once. "Not as powerful as the great families, but still significant enough to warrant invitation to gatherings like this. Alliances matter, kid. Even the strong need friends."
Kisho then began pointing out various groups around the hall, providing quiet commentary about each family—their territories, their specialties, their relationships with the Tsugikane. Rei listened with focused attention, committing every detail to memory with the discipline of someone trained for intelligence gathering.
Across the hall, Miya watched the interaction between her brother-in-law and her son with a small smile. It was good for Rei to learn these things, even if he was young. And Kisho, for all his playfulness, was actually quite good at explaining complex political structures in accessible ways.
A familiar presence approached, and Miya turned to find her husband had returned.
"They're about to start," Hidetoshi said quietly, his eyes scanning the room with practiced assessment. "Where's Rei?"
Miya pointed toward where Kisho and Rei stood, still engaged in quiet conversation. "Kisho is filling him in on the different awakened families present tonight."
Hidetoshi nodded with approval, then his expression became more formal as he prepared for his role as host.
"I should begin," he said, leaning in to kiss Miya's cheek briefly. "Make sure Rei pays attention. This is important for him to see."
With that, Hidetoshi moved toward the front of the function hall, his presence immediately drawing attention. Conversations quieted as people turned toward the stage, anticipation settling over the room like a held breath.
Rei noticed the shift in atmosphere and turned his attention forward, Kisho's hand still resting on his shoulder.
Whatever came next, Rei would watch, listen, and learn.
It was, after all, what he'd always done best.