Raizo didn't want to go outside the compound.
He didn't say that out loud.
He didn't say it because Mito Uzumaki had a way of hearing things that weren't spoken—like she could feel the shape of hesitation in the air. And he didn't say it because part of him believed that if he admitted fear, the village would hear it too, and then it would become louder on purpose.
So when morning came and Mito said, "Today we walk," Raizo only nodded.
Tsunade groaned anyway, because she was Tsunade and complained about everything that felt like an order.
"Walking is not training," she muttered, rubbing her eyes as if the idea offended her.
"It is," Mito replied calmly.
Tsunade scowled. "That makes no sense."
Mito did not argue. She didn't need to. She simply picked up her cane and headed for the door like the conversation was over.
Raizo stood near the threshold, bundle clasped in both hands, and tried to breathe normally.
In with the wave.
Out with the tide.
He could feel the village beyond the compound walls, awake and moving, its systems adjusting in the bright certainty of day. It wasn't as sharp as night, but there were more people active now. More hearts. More voices. More chakra signatures drifting past one another like currents.
A little too close.
Tsunade stepped up beside him and, without looking at him, said, "Stay on my side."
Raizo blinked. "Why."
"Because you will," she answered flatly.
That was the whole explanation.
And weirdly, it helped.
Mito slid the door open.
Sunlight spilled in.
Konoha waited.
They stepped out into the Senju district first.
The difference was immediate.
The air felt calmer here—less crowded, more ordered. The streets were cleaner. The buildings older, sturdier, with seals carved into beams and stones in subtle, practiced ways. Trees stood tall and deliberate, their roots guided rather than wild.
It felt like the village had been taught to behave in this part of town.
Raizo's shoulders loosened a fraction.
Then they moved beyond it.
The moment they crossed into the busier streets, Raizo felt the shift like stepping from shade into heat.
People.
Too many.
Civilians and shinobi, children darting between stalls, vendors shouting prices, the constant shuffle of feet. Voices overlapped in chaotic layers. Laughter flashed bright. Arguments crackled like sparks. There were so many emotions in the air that Raizo couldn't tell where one ended and another began.
His quiet space between breaths narrowed.
Tsunade's shoulder brushed his, steady and firm.
"Don't look at them," she said under her breath.
Raizo's throat tightened. "I'm not."
He wasn't.
But he could feel them looking at him anyway.
Eyes slid over him like hands.
Not all of them meant harm.
Most were just… curious.
But curiosity could cut too.
He heard it in the whispers.
"Red hair…"
"That's Uzumaki, isn't it?"
"Mito-sama brought him in…"
"From Uzushio?"
"Why would she—"
The pressure behind Raizo's eyes ticked upward.
He slowed his breathing deliberately.
In.
Out.
He named himself silently.
Raizo.
The quiet space widened just enough that he didn't stumble.
They passed a fruit stall where an old woman paused mid-call, stare lingering too long. A pair of shinobi on a rooftop shifted their weight, chakra tightening for a half heartbeat before settling again. Two children pointed, then ducked behind their mother's robe when Tsunade shot them a glare.
Tsunade didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
Her glare was its own language.
Mito walked ahead as if none of it mattered.
Her presence alone parted the crowd. People moved aside instinctively, some bowing, some just stepping away without meeting her eyes. It wasn't fear exactly. It was recognition.
Mito Uzumaki belonged to the village's bones.
Raizo did not.
Not yet.
They reached a small square where children about their age were gathered in loose clusters. Some were practicing basic stances under the watch of a tired-looking chūnin. Others sat on the edge of the training area and traded snacks, laughing too loudly.
Raizo stopped without meaning to.
The square felt loud in a different way—young chakra signatures overlapping, clumsy and raw. Excitement. Pride. Embarrassment. Determination.
And underneath it all…
Expectation.
Raizo recognized it instantly.
The feeling of being watched and measured without anyone saying why.
Tsunade noticed his hesitation. "You don't have to go in."
Raizo swallowed. "I wasn't going to."
Tsunade snorted. "Good."
A boy with spiky hair noticed them and nudged another kid. They both stared openly.
"Who's that?" the boy asked, not whispering at all.
"Maybe a Senju cousin," someone guessed.
"He's not blonde."
"He's got red hair."
A girl frowned. "Uzumaki?"
The word hit like a stone in still water.
A small ripple of murmurs spread through the group. Some leaned forward. Some leaned back. One kid's expression shifted into something wary, like the name itself carried a warning.
Raizo's chest tightened.
Tsunade stepped forward half a pace.
The murmuring stopped.
Her chakra didn't flare. She didn't threaten.
She simply existed with enough confidence that children remembered how to be quiet.
Mito's cane tapped once.
"Raizo," she said.
Raizo looked at her.
"What do you feel."
Raizo closed his eyes.
He listened.
The square buzzed.
Curiosity.
A few sharp threads of fear.
Some envy.
Some admiration, though it was messy and unsure.
"…They're loud," he admitted. "But not dangerous."
Mito nodded. "Correct."
Raizo opened his eyes.
The chūnin instructor had noticed them now, posture straightening. He bowed quickly toward Mito.
"Mito-sama."
Mito inclined her head. "Continue."
The man nodded and returned to the children, voice louder as he barked instructions, as if trying to prove he hadn't been distracted.
Mito guided Raizo away from the square before the staring could become heavier.
They walked through the marketplace next.
Raizo tried not to tense when people's eyes followed him. He tried not to react when whispers rose like insects and then faded again. He focused on the rhythm of his footsteps and the steady weight of Tsunade beside him.
For a while, it worked.
Then someone spoke too close.
A man—civilian, but with sharp eyes—leaned toward another and murmured, "Uzushio refugee."
The word refugee punched Raizo in the chest.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it felt like being made small.
He stumbled.
Not physically.
Inside.
The quiet space collapsed for half a breath.
Air stirred around his feet.
Tsunade's hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve, yanking him back into balance.
"Breathe," she hissed.
Raizo inhaled sharply.
Out.
He found his quiet space again like a hand finding a familiar scar.
Raizo.
Tsunade's grip didn't loosen until his shoulders stopped shaking.
Mito glanced back, eyes unreadable.
She didn't scold him.
She didn't comfort him either.
She only said, "Good recovery."
Raizo swallowed. "I don't like that word."
"Which one," Mito asked.
"…Refugee."
Mito's cane tapped once, thoughtful. "Words become weapons when spoken without care. That is why you must learn which ones you accept."
Raizo's throat burned. "I didn't accept it."
"No," Mito agreed. "You did not."
Tsunade muttered, "If he says it again, I'll hit him."
Mito didn't correct her.
They stopped near a shaded bench as midday heat settled over the village. Mito sat with measured grace. Tsunade dropped down like she was throwing herself at the ground out of spite.
Raizo sat slowly, head aching, senses stretched thin.
But he hadn't broken.
That mattered.
Mito watched him. "How do you feel."
Raizo blinked. "Tired."
"And?"
He hesitated. Then, quietly, "Still here."
Mito nodded once. "That is progress."
A shadow fell across them.
Raizo looked up and saw the Third Hokage standing nearby, pipe in hand, eyes gentle but sharp.
"Mito-sama," Hiruzen said. "I thought I might find you walking."
Mito inclined her head. "We are."
Hiruzen's gaze moved to Raizo. "And how is Konoha treating you today, young Raizo?"
Raizo swallowed. The Hokage's chakra felt steady, tired, and… careful. Like he was trying not to press too hard on anything fragile.
"It's big," Raizo answered honestly.
Hiruzen chuckled softly. "Yes. It is."
He crouched slightly so his gaze was closer to Raizo's level. "You may hear many things while you are here. You do not have to answer them. You do not have to prove anything."
Raizo's throat tightened. "Okay."
Hiruzen nodded. "Good."
He rose and looked toward Mito. "If anything troubles you, the Hokage's door remains open."
Mito's reply was calm. "I know."
When Hiruzen walked away, Raizo felt something settle—a quiet approval that didn't demand anything in return.
They returned to the compound later, sunlight fading into warm gold through the trees. The Senju district felt like exhaling after holding breath too long.
Inside, the air softened. The barrier hummed low and steady. The village noise dulled.
Raizo's knees went weak with relief.
Tsunade noticed and snorted. "Don't get used to it."
Raizo didn't answer.
He wasn't sure whether he wanted to.
That night, Raizo sat on the porch steps with Tsunade beside him.
The compound lanterns glowed warm. Beyond the walls, the village continued its layered movement, voices drifting, patrols shifting, seals adjusting.
Raizo stared out into the dark and whispered, "Do you ever feel like everyone's watching you."
Tsunade didn't answer immediately.
Her jaw tightened. Her gaze stayed forward.
"…Yes," she said finally. "Sometimes."
Raizo swallowed. "What do you do."
Tsunade's voice was quiet, almost reluctant. "I get stronger."
Raizo nodded slowly.
He wasn't sure he wanted that.
Not the strength that came from hardening.
He wanted the strength that came from… holding.
Holding the storm. Holding the breath. Holding his name in the middle of too many eyes.
Raizo pressed a hand over his chest.
In.
Out.
The village breathed beyond the walls.
This time, it didn't crush him.
It watched.
It waited.
And Raizo, small as he was, stayed right where he was.
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