The two of them got inside the vehicle—a sleek sedan in deep charcoal that bore the understated elegance characteristic of the Tsugikane family's aesthetic preferences. The paint gleamed in morning sunlight, polished to mirror brightness, and the chrome accents caught light in precise geometric patterns.
Kisho moved to the driver's seat with casual familiarity, sliding behind the wheel with the ease of someone who drove regularly despite presumably having access to dedicated drivers. The door closed with a solid thunk that spoke to quality engineering and sound insulation.
Rei circled to the rear passenger side, pulling open the door—which was lighter than he'd expected, balanced precisely on its hinges—and climbed into the backseat. The interior was leather and subtle luxury: seats that molded to his small frame with comfortable support, climate control already adjusted to perfect temperature, the new car scent mixing with faint traces of his uncle's cologne.
Through the tinted window, Rei caught a final glimpse of his mother standing at the compound entrance. Miya raised one hand in a graceful wave, her expression warm with maternal affection and perhaps a touch of the concern that seemed universal to mothers watching their children depart. Then Kisho put the car in motion, and she disappeared from view as they rolled toward the compound gates, leaving her to tend her chrysanthemums and cultivars in the extensive gardens she maintained with such dedication.
The gates opened smoothly at their approach—sensors recognizing the vehicle automatically, security systems designed to seamless efficiency. They passed through without slowing, emerging onto a private road that connected the Tsugikane compound to Minato's broader street network.
Kisho drove with relaxed competence, one hand on the wheel, his posture comfortable but alert in the way of someone trained to awareness even during routine activities. The car accelerated smoothly, engine purring rather than roaring, everything about the vehicle's operation designed for quiet sophistication rather than aggressive performance.
Rei settled into his seat and turned his attention to the window, watching the scenery transition from the compound's carefully maintained grounds to the outer residential areas that surrounded it. Traditional houses mixed with modern construction, creating the architectural layering that seemed characteristic of this world's Tokyo. Gardens visible between buildings, some meticulously maintained in classical styles, others showing contemporary landscaping with geometric precision.
They drove in comfortable silence for perhaps five minutes before Kisho glanced at the rearview mirror, catching Rei's reflection as the boy continued observing the passing cityscape.
"Your father told me that he's briefed you about the awakened world," Kisho said, his tone conversational but carrying an undertone of genuine curiosity.
Rei turned his attention from the window, meeting his uncle's eyes in the mirror. "Yes. I had been given a run-through by Father about the awakened world." He paused, organizing his thoughts, then continued with the kind of systematic recall that came naturally to his reorganized consciousness. "About the Veil Accord and how it's maintained to separate awakeners from mundanes. About the normal awakening age of children at nine years old and above, once their bodies have formed a fully functional core. That awakening younger than nine years old is an indication of exceptional talent. About how awakeners need force control to properly utilize their abilities and minimize wasted energy."
The recitation came out smoothly, each point following logically from the last, delivered in complete sentences with proper terminology and conceptual understanding.
Kisho's eyebrows rose fractionally. He continued watching Rei through the rearview mirror, his expression shifting from casual interest to genuine surprise.
"You know, kid," Kisho said slowly, his tone carrying wonder mixed with something that might have been concern, "I'm shocked at how well you can speak at your age. And how you remember every bit of information your father told you, almost word for word." He paused at a traffic light, using the moment to fully turn in his seat and look directly at Rei. "I was actually expecting to spend the drive filling you in on things you'd forgotten or didn't understand when Hidetoshi explained everything. Most five-year-olds would retain maybe half of what they were told, and they'd mix up the details."
Mistake.
The realization hit Rei with the sharp clarity of someone who'd just committed an operational error. He'd let his natural intelligence and perfect recall show through too obviously, demonstrating capabilities that didn't match the expected developmental stage of a five-year-old child, even an exceptionally bright one.
A normal five-year-old might remember that awakening happened around age nine, but they wouldn't retain precise terminology like "force control" or articulate complex concepts about the Veil Accord with such clarity. They'd offer simpler explanations, mix up details, require prompting to remember specific points.
He'd responded like the adult consciousness he actually was, forgetting to filter his knowledge through appropriate childlike expression.
Rei scrambled mentally for a response that would explain the discrepancy without raising more questions. "Maybe I'm just gifted intellectually?" he offered, pitching his voice with a hint of uncertainty, as if he wasn't entirely sure why he could do things that surprised adults but was tentatively suggesting a possibility.
The light changed. Kisho turned back to face forward, accelerating smoothly through the intersection. But his expression—visible in the rearview mirror—showed thoughtful consideration rather than dismissal.
Then he laughed, the sound light and genuine, tension breaking like glass under pressure. "Maybe you are, kid. Wouldn't surprise me, honestly." His grin was visible even from Rei's position. "You're Hidetoshi's son, after all. And Miya's no intellectual lightweight either. Combine those genetics and add in awakened lineage? Yeah, getting a genius five-year-old seems about right."
The explanation seemed to satisfy him, or at least push his concerns into territory he was willing to dismiss as simply exceptional rather than genuinely anomalous. Rei filed the moment away as a lesson: he needed to be more careful about how he demonstrated knowledge, mixing in appropriate childlike gaps and simplifications to avoid triggering suspicion.
A question occurred to Rei—one that was both genuinely relevant and served the dual purpose of redirecting conversation away from scrutiny of his own capabilities.
"Speaking of awakeners, Uncle," Rei said, keeping his tone carrying innocent curiosity, "have you awakened?"
The question could have been sensitive. Asking someone about their awakened status when there was any chance they might be mundane was considered somewhat rude in this society—like asking about income or medical conditions in certain cultural contexts. But Rei was five years old, and children were granted social latitude for asking questions that adults would know better than to voice.
Besides, he was genuinely curious. He could sense aether within his mother—a subtle energy signature that his consciousness registered even if this body couldn't consciously manipulate it. But both his father and Kisho presented differently, their energy either absent or somehow masked in ways Rei didn't yet understand.
Kisho's grin widened, taking on a quality of obvious pride. "Oh, I've definitely awakened, kid. Want to see?"
Without waiting for an answer, Kisho raised his right hand from where it had been resting on his thigh—his left hand remaining steady on the steering wheel, maintaining perfect control of the vehicle. He held his hand up where both he and Rei could see it clearly, index finger extended.
Then, with no visible effort or preparation, a small ball of fire materialized at his fingertip.
The flame was perhaps the size of a marble, burning with remarkable stability despite the car's motion and the air circulation from the climate control. It glowed orange-yellow at its core, blue at its base where it connected to Kisho's finger, crackling with contained energy that somehow didn't seem to generate heat beyond its immediate area. The fire danced and flickered with organic movement, clearly real rather than some kind of illusion or trick.
Kisho held it there for perhaps three seconds, letting Rei observe. Then he closed his hand into a loose fist, and the flame disappeared instantly—not extinguished gradually but simply ceasing to exist, as if it had been a switch flipped from on to off.
His hand returned to the steering wheel, and he glanced at the rearview mirror to catch Rei's reaction.
Fire manipulation or also called as pyrokinesis, Rei thought with analytical interest. Psychic-type awakening, elemental specialization. Small-scale generation and control, suggesting either he's holding back significantly or his ability operates better at larger scales. No visible strain from the demonstration, which indicates either exceptional control or that creating fire of that size is trivial for his capability level.
But beyond the tactical analysis, Rei found himself genuinely impressed by the casual display of power that had no equivalent in his previous understanding of reality. Chakra-based techniques had required hand seals, chakra molding, specific forms and structures. This had been effortless—thought translating directly to phenomenon without intermediary steps.
However, his intellectual fascination apparently didn't translate to the kind of wide-eyed wonder that Kisho had been expecting.
Kisho's expression in the mirror showed mild disappointment. "Come on, kid. Where's the excitement? I just made fire appear from nothing and you're looking at me like I showed you a card trick you've already figured out."
Rei realized he needed to provide a more appropriately enthusiastic response. He let his eyes widen fractionally, injecting his voice with the kind of impressed curiosity a five-year-old should feel when witnessing something genuinely amazing.
"That was incredible, Uncle!" Rei said, then let his expression dim slightly as manufactured concern entered his voice. "But... there's still a chance I won't awaken, right? Father said that only two out of three children from awakened families actually undergo awakening. What if I'm the one who doesn't?"
The statistic was one Hidetoshi had mentioned during their lessons—the probability that had initially surprised Rei with how high it was. Two-thirds of children from awakened lineages awakened themselves, which meant one-third remained mundane despite their heritage. Better odds than Rei had initially assumed when his father had first mentioned that awakening wasn't guaranteed, but still leaving significant room for disappointment.
Kisho's expression immediately shifted to reassurance, his paternal instincts—or perhaps just his affection for his nephew—overriding any desire to tease.
"Hey, don't worry about that," Kisho said firmly, his tone carrying conviction. "First of all, it's incredibly rare for the firstborn child of a family not to awaken. The statistics are way better for primary heirs than for younger siblings or extended family members—something like nine out of ten firstborns from great families awaken eventually."
He paused at another intersection, using the moment to turn and make eye contact with Rei directly rather than through the mirror.
"Second, you've got two awakened parents. Both your father and mother have come from awakened lineages themselves. When both parents are awakened, the probability shoots up even higher." His expression was completely serious now, the jovial uncle replaced by someone offering genuine comfort and certainty. "I'm certain you'll awaken, Rei. It's just a matter of when, not if."
Rei let the information sink in with visible processing—the slight furrow of his brow, the way his eyes moved as if reviewing mental calculations, the gradual relaxation of tension in his small shoulders.
The statistics Kisho provided were new information that Hidetoshi hadn't specifically mentioned, though they made logical sense. If awakening had any hereditary component—which it clearly did, given the existence of awakened lineages—then having two awakened parents would significantly increase probability compared to having only one or none.
And if firstborn children awakened at higher rates, that suggested either birth order affected some biological factor relevant to core formation, or—more likely—that awakened families were selective about which children they designated as primary heirs, choosing those who showed early signs of potential or who awakened precociously.
Rei nodded slowly, then allowed his expression to brighten with the kind of relief a worried child would feel upon receiving reassurance from a trusted adult.
"Thank you, Uncle," Rei said, pitching his voice with genuine gratitude that he didn't entirely have to fake. "I was worried, but what you said makes me feel better."
Kisho's grin returned, warm and satisfied. "That's what uncles are for, kid. Worrying about stuff that probably won't happen anyway, and having someone tell you to relax."
The intersection cleared. Kisho returned his attention to driving, and the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence.
But Rei noticed that his uncle's awareness had shifted subtly. Kisho's eyes moved more frequently now—checking mirrors, scanning intersections before entering them, tracking vehicles that pulled alongside them at lights. His posture remained relaxed, but there was a quality of readiness beneath the casual exterior that suggested he was actively monitoring their surroundings for potential threats.
Security protocols, Rei recognized. We've left the relative safety of the compound and entered public spaces where the Tsugikane heir could potentially be targeted. Kisho is maintaining awareness appropriate to protecting a high-value individual, even if the actual risk is probably minimal during daylight hours on well-traveled routes.
It was behavior Rei understood intimately from his previous life. ANBU operatives moved through Konoha with similar dual awareness—appearing casual and unthreatening while maintaining constant tactical assessment of their environment.
Rei returned his attention to the window, watching as their route took them deeper into Minato's urban core.
The scenery had transformed during their drive. The residential areas near the compound gave way to denser commercial development—buildings rising taller, streets widening to accommodate heavier traffic, the pedestrian population increasing significantly. Signs in Japanese and English advertised businesses ranging from traditional restaurants to modern tech companies. Traffic lights controlled intersections with precise timing. People crossed at designated crosswalks, their clothing ranging from business suits to casual wear to school uniforms.
It was Tokyo in all its layered complexity—a massive metropolitan area functioning with the kind of organized efficiency that shouldn't be possible for a city of this size, yet somehow was. Millions of people moving through their daily routines, completely unaware that a hidden society of awakeners operated in the shadows beneath their normal reality.
The Veil Accord in action, Rei thought. All this mundane activity proceeding normally while awakeners maintained their own parallel governance structures, their own conflicts and alliances, their own world that touched this one but remained carefully separate.
Rei found himself genuinely marveling at the scope and sophistication of it all. In his previous life, hidden villages had been isolated—separate communities that maintained minimal contact with civilian populations except for economic necessities. Here, awakeners lived embedded within mundane society, requiring constant management and deception to maintain the separation.
The logistical complexity must be staggering.
After perhaps twenty minutes of driving through increasingly dense urban development, the scenery shifted again. Kisho turned onto a broad avenue lined with larger buildings—corporate headquarters and high-rise office complexes, their glass and steel facades reflecting morning sun in brilliant cascades.
And there, rising above the surrounding structures with unmistakable prominence, stood their destination.
The Tsugikane Awakened Association headquarters.
Rei had seen it from a distance during his first trip to Tokyo, but viewing it as they approached from ground level provided entirely different perspective. The building was perhaps forty stories tall, its design combining modern architectural elements with subtle traditional influences. The lower floors featured stone facing in dark gray, providing visual weight and permanence. Above that, the structure transitioned to glass and steel in geometric patterns that created visual interest without sacrificing the clean lines that characterized contemporary design.
The Tsugikane family crest was visible in stylized form integrated into the building's facade, large enough to be seen from blocks away but executed with sufficient subtlety to avoid seeming ostentatious.
It was a statement of power and permanence rendered in architecture and engineering. A physical manifestation of the Tsugikane family's control over Minato Ward, standing in the heart of their territory like a modern castle keep.
Kisho guided the car toward the main entrance, where a dedicated drop-off area provided space for vehicles to pause without blocking the flow of traffic. The entrance itself was impressive—a broad plaza with carefully maintained landscaping, stairs and accessible ramps leading to massive glass doors, security personnel visible but not overwhelming in their presence.
Kisho pulled into a parking spot designated specifically for family use—marked with discreet signage that Rei couldn't quite read from his angle but that clearly communicated reserved status. The car came to a smooth stop, engine quieting to silence with the press of a button.
Kisho opened his door and stepped out with fluid grace. Rei reached for his own door handle, pulling it and pushing the door open before his uncle could circle around to assist him.
The height differential between the car's floor and the ground was significant for someone with five-year-old proportions. Rei positioned himself carefully at the edge of the seat, then slid forward and down, his feet finding pavement with only minor awkwardness.
Kisho appeared at his side, grinning with familiar teasing energy. "Easy on the steps, kid. You might fall down and scrape your royal knees. Then I'd have to explain to your mother how I failed in my basic duty of keeping you upright."
Rei straightened his cardigan with deliberate dignity, shooting his uncle a look that he hoped conveyed appropriate kid indignation. "I can handle my own, Uncle."
"So I see," Kisho said, his grin widening. "Very independent. Very mature. I'm sure you won't need me to hold your hand or anything embarrassing like that when we go inside."
"I'm five, not two," Rei pointed out with the kind of logic children employed when defending their competence.
"Fair point," Kisho acknowledged. He closed and locked the car with a beep from the key fob, then gestured toward the building's entrance. "Come on, then. Let's go see where all the important people do all the important things that keep Minato Ward functioning smoothly."
They moved toward the entrance together—Kisho matching his pace to Rei's shorter stride, his presence casual but protective, ready to intervene if his nephew stumbled or if any threat materialized.