"The next generation will always surpass the previous one. It's one of the never-ending cycles in life." - Kakashi Hatake
———
Rei stood beside his mother and uncle, watching as his father, Hidetoshi, positioned himself at the front of the hall. The soft light from the chandeliers caught the quiet authority in his posture—shoulders back, spine straight, hands relaxed at his sides. He didn't command attention through volume or dramatic gesture; his mere presence was enough. Conversations tapered off in gentle waves, rippling outward from those closest to the stage until the room settled into attentive silence.
Hidetoshi let his gaze sweep the assembled families with deliberate care. Old allies who'd stood beside the Tsugikane through decades of cooperation. New partners whose allegiances were still being forged and tested. Children who clustered near their parents, some watching with wide eyes full of curiosity, others fidgeting with boredom poorly concealed.
"Thank you all for coming," Hidetoshi began, his voice steady and resonant without requiring effort or projection. The acoustics of the hall carried his words clearly to every corner. "Tonight is a gathering of families who have stood beside one another through change, time, and adversity. We are here to honor renewed alliances, reaffirm trust, and remember that our strength does not lie in isolation, but in connection."
Subtle nods moved through the crowd like wind through grass. Heads inclined fractionally in agreement. A few murmurs of approval rose and fell.
Hidetoshi continued, his tone softening just enough to warm the formality of his words without sacrificing their weight. "May this evening serve as both remembrance and beginning. Let us share food, conversation, and goodwill freely."
His eyes shifted briefly to the younger faces scattered throughout the hall—children of various ages, the next generation of awakened families who would inherit their parents' territories and responsibilities.
"And to the next generation," he said, allowing genuine warmth to enter his voice, "I hope you take this chance to meet one another. These relationships will shape the future long after tonight ends."
A faint smile touched his lips, transforming his expression from authoritative to almost paternal.
"Please, enjoy the evening."
Polite applause followed, the sound building in waves as guests responded to the conclusion of his speech. It wasn't thunderous or enthusiastic, but rather the measured appreciation of people who understood the careful diplomacy embedded in every word Hidetoshi had spoken. The tension that had held the room during his address eased like a breath released. Conversations resumed with lighter energy, and the hall began to move again as people gravitated toward their preferred social circles, glasses lifted in quiet toasts, and the intricate web of alliances rewove itself beneath the gentle glow of the chandeliers.
Rei joined his mother and uncle in applause, his small hands coming together with proper rhythm and duration. Not too enthusiastic, not too perfunctory, just appropriate for a child of his status observing his father's performance.
Well delivered, Rei thought with professional assessment. No wasted words, clear objectives stated without being heavy-handed. He acknowledged both the established relationships and the new ones being formed, gave respect to tradition while looking toward the future, and specifically included the younger generation to make them feel valued and invested in tonight's purpose.
It was the kind of speech that required practice and natural aptitude in equal measure. His father was clearly experienced at this sort of political theater.
Rei watched as Hidetoshi descended from the platform, his movements carrying the same controlled grace that characterized everything about him. Immediately, guests began approaching—some who'd been waiting politely for the speech to conclude, others emboldened by the informal atmosphere his words had encouraged. They came with congratulations on his speech, with business proposals disguised as casual conversation, with requests for private meetings couched in friendly terms.
Hidetoshi handled each interaction with practiced ease, his attention fully present for each person despite the queue forming.
"You know, Rei," Kisho said, lowering his head sideways to bring himself closer to Rei's height, "when we were younger, I didn't expect Hidetoshi to have a knack for speaking in public like this."
Rei turned his attention to his uncle, genuine curiosity in his expression. "How so?"
"Because growing up, your father was a reserved person," Kisho explained, his tone carrying the particular quality of someone reminiscing about shared history. "Very quiet, actually. Preferred actions to words. He'd go entire days speaking maybe ten sentences." He paused, then added with a slight chuckle, "You know what, now that I remember, it was mostly our mother who shaped him up to be able to do things like this. She recognized early that he was the heir, and she made sure he developed the skills he'd need for leadership, even the ones that didn't come naturally to him."
Rei noticed immediately that there was no hint of envy in his uncle's voice—no bitterness about being the younger brother, no resentment about their mother's focused attention on Hidetoshi's development. Only nostalgia colored Kisho's words, fond memories of watching his older brother transform from a quiet, reserved boy into the confident leader who now commanded respect from dozens of powerful families.
Interesting, Rei thought. In my previous life, being the spare rather than the heir often bred resentment. But Kisho seems genuinely content with his position. Either he lacks ambition, or he's found fulfillment in other aspects of his role within the family.
Before Rei could pursue this line of thought further, movement caught his attention. A family of five was approaching their small group—parents and three children ranging from young adult to child.
The man leading them was in his early fifties, though his features suggested someone younger. His face was lean and handsome in a weathered way, with laugh lines around his eyes and a bearing that spoke to physical fitness maintained through discipline rather than vanity. His hair was dark with distinguished silver at the temples, cut short and practical. He wore a suit in deep charcoal, perfectly tailored, with a tie in subtle burgundy. His energy signature was moderate but well-controlled, marking him as an awakener of decent capability.
Beside him walked a woman in her early forties, beautiful in an understated way. Her features were delicate but not fragile, and she carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who'd earned her place rather than inherited it. Her dress was elegant without being ostentatious—dark blue with silver accents, traditional in silhouette but contemporary in execution. Her hair was pulled back in a style that emphasized her graceful neck. She had less awakened energy than her husband, but it was present, suggesting she'd come from an awakened lineage even if she wasn't particularly powerful herself.
Behind them came three children who shared various combinations of their parents' features.
The eldest was a young man of about twenty—tall, with his father's build and his mother's delicate features arranged in masculine proportion. He wore a suit with the ease of someone accustomed to formal events, his posture correct without being stiff. His eyes were sharp and observant, tracking details with the attention of someone being groomed for leadership. His awakened energy was stronger than his father's, suggesting he'd inherited good potential and trained it diligently.
The middle child was a boy around fourteen, in that awkward phase between childhood and adolescence where limbs seemed slightly too long for the body. He wore his suit with less comfort than his older brother, and his expression held the particular sullenness of a teenager who'd rather be anywhere else. His awakened energy was present but less developed, possibly due to his age or natural aptitude.
The youngest was a girl of about seven—small and delicate like her mother, with large dark eyes that took in everything with curious intelligence. She wore a dress in pale pink that somehow managed to look both childlike and sophisticated. Her hair was long and perfectly styled, held back with decorative pins. She stayed close to her mother's side, one small hand gripping the fabric of her mother's dress.
Rei recognized them immediately from Kisho's earlier descriptions. The Kazemori family, awakeners who oversaw Kita Ward, a middle-sized family in terms of power and influence, not part of the great families but significant enough to maintain an independent territory.
"Miya-san, how are you? We haven't met for three years," the man—Niou Kazemori—said, his voice warm with genuine pleasure at the reunion.
"Yes, it has been three years, Niou-san," Miya responded with equal warmth, her smile brightening. "You look well. And your family has grown beautifully."
Niou turned to Kisho next, offering a respectful nod. "Kisho-san, good to see you again. Still keeping your brother entertained, I hope?"
Kisho grinned. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't become too serious. It's exhausting work, but I manage."
The adults shared a brief laugh, the kind of easy humor that came from long acquaintance and mutual respect.
Then Niou's attention dropped to Rei, and his expression shifted to something more formal and assessing.
"And you must be Rei-kun," Niou said, his tone still friendly but carrying additional weight. "How old are you now?"
It wasn't really a question—more an invitation for Rei to introduce himself properly. This was a test, Rei recognized immediately. A chance to demonstrate whether the Tsugikane heir possessed the social graces expected of his position.
Rei stepped forward slightly and offered a respectful bow—not too deep, which would suggest subservience inappropriate for his status, but deep enough to show genuine respect for an elder and the head of another family.
"I am honored to meet the head of the Kazemori family," Rei said, his voice clear and properly modulated. "I am now five years old, Niou-san."
Wait. The number had come out automatically, drawn from this body's actual age rather than what he'd estimated earlier. So he was five, not six. Still very young to be brought to an event like this.
Niou's expression warmed with approval, genuine pleasure lighting his features. "Well-mannered indeed! Hidetoshi and Miya-san have raised you well. It's refreshing to see a child who understands proper etiquette."
The comment was clearly directed at his own middle son, whose earlier sullenness suggested he'd been less than perfectly behaved recently.
Niou gestured to his eldest son, who stepped forward with precise timing.
"This is my firstborn, Kazemori Haruto."
Haruto bowed—the movement precise, respectful, and executed with the kind of polish that came from extensive practice and natural aptitude for social performance. When he straightened, his eyes flickered over Rei with an expression that was appraising but not dismissive. He was evaluating Rei with genuine curiosity and intelligence, measuring the younger boy not as a child to be indulged but as a future peer whose capabilities and character would matter in years to come.
"It's an honor to meet the Tsugikane heir," Haruto said, his voice smooth and professionally courteous. "I hope we'll have opportunities to speak more as you grow older."
The words were polite and appropriate, but Rei caught the underlying message: You're too young to be interesting now, but I recognize you'll be important eventually.
Fair enough.
Niou then motioned toward his second son, placing a guiding hand on the boy's shoulder with a firmness that suggested this introduction required extra attention.
"And this is my second son, Kazemori Ren."
Unlike Haruto's respectful bow, Ren only offered a curt nod, his chin barely dipping. His eyes swept over Rei with thinly veiled dismissiveness, the particular look of someone who'd decided Rei wasn't worth his attention. The scrutiny lasted perhaps two seconds too long, crossing from assessment into rudeness.
The change in atmosphere was immediate and subtle. Miya's expression cooled fractionally. Kisho's easy smile tightened around the edges.
Niou cleared his throat—a sharp, deliberate sound.
Ren's eyes widened slightly as he realized his mistake. Color rose in his cheeks as he quickly executed a proper bow, deeper than his brother's had been, clearly meant to compensate for his initial discourtesy.
"My apologies," Ren muttered, his voice carrying the particular sullenness of a teenager forced to acknowledge he'd been wrong. "It's an honor to meet you, Rei-sama."
The honorific was technically correct but delivered with enough grudging resentment to undermine its courtesy.
Rei simply nodded in acknowledgment, keeping his expression serene and unbothered. Getting angry at a fourteen-year-old's poor manners would be beneath him, and showing offense would only create awkwardness for both families. Better to demonstrate maturity by accepting the apology gracefully and moving on.
Niou's expression showed both embarrassment and appreciation for Rei's diplomatic response. He squeezed Ren's shoulder—whether in warning or reassurance, Rei couldn't quite tell—then deliberately shifted the tone of the interaction.
"And this," Niou said, his voice warming considerably as he gestured to his youngest daughter, "is my daughter, Kazemori Mitsu."
The little girl stepped forward with careful grace, clearly nervous but determined to make a good impression. She executed a bow that was technically perfect if slightly stiff with concentration, then looked up at Miya and Kisho with wide, earnest eyes.
"It's an honor to meet you, Miya-sama, Kisho-sama," Mitsu said, her voice soft but clear.
"What a lovely child," Miya said warmly, her expression melting into genuine fondness. "And so well-spoken! How old are you, Mitsu-chan?"
"I'm seven years old," Mitsu responded, a shy smile touching her lips at the praise.
Niou then turned his attention back to Rei, guiding his daughter slightly forward with gentle encouragement.
"Mitsu, this is Tsugikane Rei, Hidetoshi-sama's son."
Mitsu looked at Rei with open curiosity, no hint of the dismissiveness her middle brother had shown. She bowed again, this time with slightly less nervousness.
"Hello, Rei-sama. I hope we can be friends."
The words were simple and childlike, delivered with genuine sincerity.
"I hope so as well, Mitsu-san," Rei responded with appropriate courtesy, softening his tone to match her age and demeanor.
Niou's expression carried satisfaction as he watched the exchange. Then he addressed Rei directly, his voice taking on a more significant quality.
"I hope you and Mitsu will have opportunities to know each other better as you both grow older. It would be wonderful if the next generation of our families could maintain the friendship that your father and I have built."
The words were diplomatic and carefully neutral, but Rei wasn't oblivious to the subtle implication. This was the opening move in what could eventually become a marriage negotiation—planting the seed now while both children were young, allowing time for the relationship to develop naturally or be quietly abandoned if it proved unsuitable.
It was a common enough practice among powerful families. Alliances could be strengthened through marriage, and starting these conversations early gave everyone involved time and flexibility to navigate toward the best outcome.
Rei simply nodded with appropriate solemnity, as if Niou had merely suggested they might play together sometime. No need to acknowledge the deeper implications at age five.
Miya and Niou continued their conversation while the children stood in polite attendance. Umi, Niou's wife, joined in with observations about how Tokyo had changed in the three years since their last meeting. Kisho contributed his usual blend of insight and humor, keeping the atmosphere light despite the formality.
After perhaps ten minutes of pleasant conversation, the Kazemori family moved on to greet other guests, Niou having accomplished his primary objectives: reaffirming the alliance between their families, introducing his children properly, and floating the possibility of a future marriage connection.
But they were only the first.
Over the next hour, family after family approached the small group where Miya, Kisho, and Rei stood. Middle-sized families like the Kazemoris, who controlled single wards and maintained significant but not overwhelming power. Minor families whose territories were smaller or whose awakened lineages produced fewer powerful individuals but who still commanded respect and maintained their independence.
Each family head came with similar purposes: to pay respects to the Tsugikane, to introduce their children to the heir, to reinforce existing alliances or establish new connections. Some brought subtle business proposals disguised as friendly conversation. Others sought advice on territorial matters or awakened politics. A few simply wanted to be seen speaking with the Tsugikane, using the social capital of that association to enhance their own standing.
Hidetoshi rejoined them after perhaps thirty minutes, having finished his initial rounds of greeting the most important guests. His presence immediately elevated the significance of the interactions—family heads who might have kept their conversations brief with Miya and Kisho now lingered longer, seeking Hidetoshi's attention and approval.
"Please, there's no need for excessive formality tonight," Hidetoshi said repeatedly, his tone warm and genuine. "We're among friends and allies. Speak freely."
But despite his words, the guests maintained their respectful demeanor. Some things couldn't be dismissed simply by requesting informality, power dynamics and social hierarchies had their own gravity.
Rei watched and listened to every interaction with careful attention, cataloging information with the systematic precision of someone trained for intelligence work.
Names and faces. Family territories and specializations. Who seemed genuinely friendly toward the Tsugikane and who maintained alliances primarily out of pragmatic necessity. Which families had children near his age, and whether those children showed signs of awakened potential or remained ordinary humans despite their lineage.
The social landscape of Tokyo's awakened society began to take shape in his mind—a complex web of relationships, obligations, rivalries, and mutual dependencies. Not so different from the hidden village system in its fundamental structure, just executed with different aesthetics and terminology.
After perhaps ninety minutes of continuous socializing, Rei noticed a shift in the hall's atmosphere. The youngest children were growing restless, their patience for formal adult conversation exhausted. A few had already been led away by attendants or older siblings to a separate area where they could play or rest. Others fidgeted openly, tugging at their parents' clothing or whispering complaints.
Sensing the moment, several of the older children—teenagers and young adults who'd been dutifully attending their parents—began gravitating toward each other, forming their own social clusters away from the adults. It was a natural migration, the younger generation seeking peers rather than remaining satellites to their parents' conversations.
"Rei," his mother said quietly, leaning down to address him with gentle encouragement, "why don't you go speak with the other children? You've been very patient, but you should make friends your own age."
It was phrased as a suggestion, but Rei recognized the underlying instruction. Part of tonight's purpose was for the next generation to meet and form their own relationships. Staying glued to his mother's side would be seen as either shyness or poor socialization—neither quality appropriate for the Tsugikane heir.
"Yes, Mother," Rei said obediently.
Kisho gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Go on, kid. They don't bite. Probably."
Rei moved toward where a group of children had gathered near one of the large windows overlooking Tokyo's nighttime skyline. The group was mixed in age—the youngest appeared to be around five (his own age), while the oldest looked perhaps fifteen. Anyone older than that remained with their parents, either by choice or because they were being actively groomed in political navigation and needed to observe more formal interactions.
As Rei approached, several heads turned toward him. Conversations paused fractionally as they registered who was joining their group.
The Tsugikane heir.
Rei could see the various reactions play across young faces—curiosity, calculation, nervousness, and in a few cases, carefully neutral expressions that suggested they'd been coached by their parents on how to interact with him.
"Hello," Rei said simply, keeping his tone friendly but not overly enthusiastic. "May I join you?"
A girl of perhaps twelve—tall for her age, with sharp features and intelligent eyes—smiled and gestured welcomingly. "Of course! You're Rei-sama, right? I'm Saejima Yuki. My family oversees part of Setagaya Ward."
And just like that, the ice was broken.
Introductions flowed more easily after Yuki's welcoming gesture. Names and family affiliations were exchanged. The children began arranging themselves in a loose circle, some sitting on the plush chairs positioned near the windows, others standing or leaning against the wall in casual poses.
Rei found himself drawn into conversation—questions about his age, about whether he'd been to Tokyo before, about what he thought of the gathering. He answered with appropriate childlike simplicity while his mind continued its analytical work, categorizing each child by their family background, their apparent personality, and their potential future significance.
This was networking disguised as socializing. Even at five, six, seven years old, these children were building relationships that would matter for decades to come.
Rei had done this before, in a different life. The faces and names were different, the context and culture shifted, but the fundamental dynamic remained unchanged.
He was an heir among heirs, navigating the complex social waters of powerful families, building alliances that would shape his future whether he wanted them to or not.
Some things, it seemed, transcended worlds.