Rei had just finished his breakfast, setting his chopsticks down across his empty rice bowl with the precise placement that proper etiquette demanded. The meal sat comfortably in his stomach, a reminder that this five-year-old body required regular fuel regardless of how his mind might want to work through the day on pure focus and discipline.
Hidetoshi had already departed, rising from the table with the efficient grace of someone accustomed to managing a schedule measured in minutes rather than hours. He'd paused briefly at Rei's side, placing a hand on his son's shoulder with paternal warmth.
"Someone will come to fetch you for the tour," his father had said, his voice carrying the particular tone of instruction disguised as casual information. "Be observant today. Ask questions when appropriate. This is an important opportunity to understand what you'll eventually inherit."
Then he'd been gone, striding from the dining room with his tablet already in hand, his attention shifting seamlessly from family breakfast to the complex business of managing one of Tokyo's six great awakened families.
Miya remained at the table, sipping green tea with the unhurried elegance of someone whose morning schedule permitted a more leisurely pace. She caught Rei's eye as Hidetoshi's footsteps faded down the corridor.
"Remember to be careful out there," she said, maternal concern softening the reminder into something gentler than a command. "Always listen to your father or his men. They know what they're doing, and your safety is their primary concern."
Rei nodded with appropriate solemnity. "Yes, Mother."
A question formed in his mind—partly genuine curiosity, partly the kind of thing a five-year-old might naturally ask when one parent was leaving and the other remaining behind.
"Will you be staying here today?" Rei asked, keeping his tone carrying just the right note of innocent inquiry.
Miya smiled, setting her teacup down with a soft clink against its saucer. "Yes. I have a garden to tend to." Her expression warmed further, taking on the particular quality of someone anticipating a pleasant task. "The chrysanthemums are entering their peak bloom period, and there are several new cultivars I've been wanting to work with."
Gardening, apparently, was one of his mother's passions—something Rei had gleaned from various comments over the past week but hadn't yet seen directly. The compound's gardens were extensive and meticulously maintained, suggesting someone invested considerable time and attention in their care.
"Enjoy yourself today," Miya added, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Rei's forehead with maternal tenderness. "Your father will show you important things, but try to find some wonder in it too. You're still a child, even if you're a remarkably mature one."
The gentle reminder carried weight beyond its simple words. Don't forget to be young. Don't let duty and responsibility consume everything, even at five years old.
It was advice Rei wished someone had given Itachi Uchiha decades ago in another life. Maybe if they had, things might have turned out differently.
"I will, Mother," Rei said, managing a small smile that seemed to satisfy her.
He excused himself from the table with proper formality and made his way back to his room, his mind already shifting to practical considerations. He needed to prepare for the day ahead—a tour of the Tsugikane Awakened Association headquarters, his first real look at the organizational infrastructure his family maintained to govern Minato Ward's awakened population.
Rei's room had an attached bathroom—a luxury that still sometimes surprised him despite a week of experience with this world's amenities. In his previous life, even the Uchiha clan head's family had relied on a shared bathhouse within the compound, with private bathing facilities reserved only for the most senior members. Here, individual bathrooms were apparently standard for family quarters, another example of how modern infrastructure had transformed daily life.
He pushed open the bathroom door and began undressing, folding his sleepwear with automatic precision. The bathroom itself was a study in contemporary design meeting traditional aesthetics—clean white tiles with subtle texture, a deep soaking tub in one corner, and a shower area separated by a glass partition.
Showers had existed in his past life, certainly. Konoha had developed basic plumbing infrastructure during the decades following its founding, and running water for bathing had become standard in most clan compounds and upper-tier residential areas by the time of Rei's childhood as Itachi.
But the shower here operated on an entirely different level of sophistication.
Rei turned the handle—a single elegant fixture that controlled both temperature and pressure with intuitive precision. Water emerged immediately at exactly the temperature he'd selected the previous day, the system apparently maintaining memory of user preferences. The pressure was adjustable from gentle mist to focused massage intensity, controlled by a small panel with touch-sensitive buttons.
The showerhead itself was a marvel of engineering—multiple nozzles that could be configured for different spray patterns, all feeding from a reservoir that somehow kept the water at perfect temperature without the fluctuations that had plagued even the best systems in Konoha.
Rei stepped under the spray, letting hot water cascade over his small body with a pleasure that was entirely physical and immediate. The sensation helped ground him in the present moment, pulling his attention away from abstract concerns about power systems and family obligations to focus on the simple reality of warm water, steam rising in gentle clouds, the subtle scent of soap and shampoo that came in bottles with modern branding and chemical formulations that would have seemed like alchemy to anyone from his previous world.
He washed efficiently—habits from his shinobi life translating easily to this new context. Economy of motion, thorough coverage, minimal time wasted. A five-year-old body didn't require extensive maintenance, and lingering in comfort when tasks awaited felt indulgent in ways his personality couldn't quite accept.
Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, skin flushed from heat and vigorous scrubbing, hair damp and already beginning to dry in the climate-controlled air of his bedroom.
Rei moved to his dresser, a low wooden piece in traditional style but fitted with modern drawer slides that moved with silent, hydraulic smoothness. He pulled open the drawer containing his everyday clothing, surveying the options with the same analytical attention he'd once applied to selecting mission gear.
The wardrobe his family had provided reflected his dual status as both a young child and an important heir. Casual clothing for private family time—soft cotton shirts and comfortable pants in muted colors. More formal attire for social occasions—modified kimono and hakama sets that combined traditional aesthetics with contemporary tailoring. Western-style clothing for various contexts—dress shirts and slacks, suits sized for a five-year-old, even a few items that seemed purely decorative.
Today's situation fell into an interesting middle ground that required careful consideration.
He wasn't attending a formal event that would demand traditional dress or a suit. But he also wasn't simply playing in the compound gardens where casual comfort would be entirely appropriate. He was touring the Tsugikane Awakened Association headquarters—the operational center of his family's power and influence—where he would presumably encounter staff members, security personnel, and possibly other awakeners who would evaluate him through the lens of his role as future heir.
His choice of clothing would send a message. Too formal, and he'd seem pompous or out of touch. Too casual, and he might appear to lack respect for the significance of what he was being shown.
Rei selected clothes that threaded the needle between these extremes: dark gray slacks in fine wool that hung well without being ostentatiously expensive, a crisp white dress shirt with subtle texture in the weave, and a navy cardigan that added polish without the formality of a jacket. Socks in charcoal gray, leather shoes in black that were broken in enough to be comfortable but still maintained their shine.
The outfit was simple, age-appropriate, yet clearly chosen with thought and attention to context. It reflected status without screaming it, showed respect for the occasion without suggesting he was trying too hard.
Rei dressed with the same efficiency he'd applied to bathing, movements precise despite his small size and the occasional challenge of buttons designed for larger fingers. By the time he finished, his reflection in the full-length mirror showed exactly what he'd intended: a young child who understood appropriate presentation, whose clothing suggested he'd been raised with attention to detail and social awareness.
He studied his appearance with critical assessment.
Black hair, still slightly damp, fell in soft layers around his face—longer than he'd worn it as Itachi in his early years, but styled with simple neatness that required minimal maintenance. His face carried the aristocratic features he'd noted during his first moments in this body: delicate bone structure that would sharpen with age, large dark eyes that seemed to absorb everything, pale skin that spoke of a life protected from harsh sun and manual labor.
He looked like what he was supposed to be: the pampered heir of a powerful family, young and innocent, untouched by the kind of violence and trauma that had defined his previous existence.
If only they knew what consciousness resided behind those childish features.
Knock. Knock.
The sharp rap of knuckles against wood pulled Rei from his reflection. He turned toward the door as a familiar voice called from the other side.
"Rei-sama? Your uncle Kisho has arrived to fetch you. He's currently waiting in the living room."
Rei recognized the voice—the same young woman who'd escorted him through the compound on his first morning in this world, the servant who'd seemed anxious about keeping his mother waiting. Her tone now carried the professional courtesy of someone performing routine duties, any nervousness from that initial encounter apparently resolved by a week of normal interactions.
"I'll be there in a moment," Rei called back, pitching his voice to carry through the door without requiring him to shout.
Kisho is fetching me? That was unexpected. Rei had assumed his father would send one of the association's staff members or perhaps a dedicated security detail. Having his uncle personally escort him suggested either that Kisho had specifically volunteered for the duty or that Hidetoshi wanted someone from the family directly involved in Rei's first tour of the association headquarters.
Either way, it would likely make the experience more relaxed than it might have been with formal escorts.
Rei turned back to his dresser, opening a small box on its surface that contained the few pieces of jewelry and accessories his family had given him. Most were too formal for everyday wear, but one item caught his attention—a watch his mother had presented to him three days ago during a private moment in the gardens.
The watch was beautiful in a way that spoke to both craftsmanship and expense. The case was rose gold, polished to a soft gleam that caught light without being flashy. The face was white with subtle texture, Roman numerals marking the hours in black, three sub-dials adding complexity to the design. The leather band was dark brown, supple and perfectly sized for his small wrist, with a deployment clasp that suggested this wasn't a child's toy but a genuine luxury timepiece scaled down.
"This belonged to your grandfather," Miya had said when she'd given it to him, her voice carrying the weight of significance. "He wore it every day for forty years. When he passed, your father inherited it but found it too small for his wrist. We had it restored and sized appropriately. Now it's yours."
She'd fastened it around his wrist with careful hands, her expression mixing nostalgia with maternal affection. "It's very expensive, Rei. Not because of the materials—though the craftsmanship is exceptional—but because of what it represents. Wear it when you want to carry a piece of our family's history with you."
Rei hadn't fully understood the monetary value she was referencing at the time, but he'd grasped the emotional significance immediately. This was a family heirloom, passed down through generations, now entrusted to him despite his young age.
He picked up the watch now, feeling its weight in his palm—solid and substantial despite its small size. The movement inside was mechanical rather than quartz, he'd learned, requiring no battery and instead running on springs and gears that had been refined over centuries of watchmaking tradition.
Rei fastened it around his left wrist, the leather warm against his skin, the case settling into place with satisfying precision. He adjusted it fractionally, ensuring the face sat properly centered, then pulled his cardigan sleeve down to partially cover it.
The effect was subtle—a hint of gold visible when he moved, suggesting quality without displaying it ostentatiously.
Satisfied with his preparation, Rei made his way to the living room.
The path took him through corridors he'd become increasingly familiar with over the past week—polished wood floors that gleamed in morning light, walls decorated with rotating displays of family artwork and historical photographs, sliding doors that led to various private spaces within the family wing of the compound.
He could hear voices before he reached the living room—Kisho's distinctive jovial tone and his mother's lighter responses, the easy conversation of family members comfortable in each other's presence.
Rei stepped through the doorway and found them exactly as expected: Miya seated on one of the low couches positioned around a central table, still wearing her morning attire, a fresh cup of tea steaming gently in her hands. Kisho stood near the windows overlooking the garden, dressed more formally than he'd been at breakfast—his suit jacket restored to his shoulders, his tie properly knotted, his overall presentation suggesting he was taking today's duties seriously despite his casual demeanor.
Both looked up as Rei entered, their conversation pausing mid-sentence.
Kisho's face immediately broke into a wide grin. "There you are, kid!" He gestured with mock exasperation, his tone carrying exaggerated suffering. "You've kept this poor guy waiting here for at least—" he made a show of checking his watch, "—three whole minutes. The agony. The abandonment. How will I ever recover?"
Despite himself, Rei felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. His uncle's theatrical complaints were ridiculous, but there was something endearing about how Kisho consistently refused to treat him with the kind of stiff formality that many adults adopted around important children.
"My apologies, Uncle," Rei said, playing along with appropriate solemnity. "I was ensuring I was properly dressed for the occasion. I wouldn't want to embarrass the family."
"Embarrass the—" Kisho cut himself off with a laugh, shaking his head. "Kid, you're five years old. You could show up in pajamas and people would just think you were adorable. But I appreciate the effort."
He gave Rei's outfit an appraising look, his expression shifting to genuine approval. "Actually, good choice. Appropriate without being stuffy. Your mother taught you well."
Miya's expression carried maternal satisfaction. "He's always had good instincts about presentation." She set her teacup down and rose gracefully from the couch, moving to Rei's side. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder—part affection, part final inspection.
"You look very handsome," she said warmly, then her expression turned more serious. "Remember what I said. Be careful, listen to your uncle and your father's people, and—"
"And enjoy myself," Rei finished for her, offering a small smile. "I remember, Mother."
Miya's expression softened further. She leaned down to press a brief kiss to his forehead, then straightened and nodded to Kisho. "Take care of him."
"Always," Kisho said, his tone losing its theatrical quality to become genuinely reassuring. "He'll be perfectly safe. Half the association headquarters is staffed by people who'd throw themselves in front of a bullet for the heir. The other half would do it out of fear of what Hidetoshi would do to them if anything happened to his son."
The casual mention of bullets and violence would have seemed jarring if Rei hadn't already adjusted to this world's particular blend of modern civilization and awakened conflict. Apparently even administrative tours required security considerations.
Kisho moved toward the doorway, gesturing for Rei to follow. "Come on, kid. Let's go see where all the important boring paperwork happens. And maybe, if you're lucky, I'll show you some of the actually interesting parts too."
Rei moved to follow, pausing briefly to bow to his mother with proper respect. "I'll see you this evening, Mother."
"Have a good day, Rei," Miya said, her smile warm and genuine as she watched him depart.