Shisui POV
I did not know what to do. Noa was a mess, his body folded in on itself, shaking so hard it looked like he might tear apart at the seams, and Kaen stood frozen a few steps away, staring at him as if his feet had been nailed to the floor. For a moment, none of us moved.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, steady and firm, trying to anchor him, to give him something solid to cling to. It did nothing. He kept weeping, his breath breaking apart with every attempt to inhale, words spilling out in fragments that barely held together. "Why… does this… keep happening to… me?"
I squeezed his shoulder, trying to reassure him, to tell him without words that we were here, that he was not alone, but there was no response at all. It felt like he was trapped in a pitch black room with no doors, screaming where no one could reach him.
"Kaen," I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut through the paralysis. "Call Sena. Now."
Kaen flinched as if struck. It took him a heartbeat to move, hesitation flickering across his face, then he turned and bolted for Sena's flat without another word.
A few minutes later, Sena rushed in, concern written plainly across her face. "What is wrong with Noa? Kaen is not making any sense." Her words died the instant she saw him. She crossed the room immediately and dropped to the floor beside Noa, her movements quick and precise as she checked him over.
She was truly worried. Scared, even. It was something she almost never showed so openly. She cupped Noa's face in both hands and gently lifted it, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were unfocused, dark, swimming with tears that would not stop falling. "Noa," she said softly, her voice steady despite the tension running through her. "I am here. Talk to me."
There was nothing. He did not react. He remained locked inside himself, isolated from the world around him.
Sena looked up at me, her expression tight. "What caused this?"
"He suddenly said his fuinjutsu master died," I answered quietly. "Master Shuzo."
She bit her lip hard enough that it nearly drew blood. I noticed immediately and spoke again, lowering my voice. "I am not sure it actually happened. He believes it did."
"I will send a message to the village with birds to confirm it," I added.
Sena shook her head. "Knowing his instincts, it is most likely true." She hesitated, thinking, then spoke again. "Shizuru told me he experienced something like this before. A bird would take too much time, and I want to ask Shizuru about his condition."
She bit her finger without hesitation, blood welling instantly, then slammed her palm into the floor. "Summoning Technique: Phantom Butterfly."
An ethereal butterfly formed in the air, its wings shimmering with shifting colors as it fluttered toward her. Sena began speaking at once, her words calm and precise despite the urgency beneath them. "Return to my family. Confirm whether Fuinjutsu Grandmaster Shuzo has died. If it is confirmed, have my family reach out to Shizuru, if she is in the village, and deliver this scroll to her."
She pulled an empty scroll from her pouch and wrote quickly, sealing it with her chakra and locking it so that only Shizuru's chakra signature could open it. "After Shizuru replies, bring the scroll back to me."
The butterfly drifted closer and gently touched Sena's forehead, the contact causing that patch of skin to glow briefly. The tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction. Then the butterfly settled onto the scroll resting on the floor. Both began to glow, light building between them, and a moment later they vanished from the room.
Sena turned toward me, her expression twisted and unfocused, fear bleeding through her usual control. "Can we do anything?" she asked urgently. "Sensei, can you cast something?"
I shut her down immediately. "No." My voice was firm enough that she froze. "Do not even think about it. And do not try anything yourself." I lowered my voice, forcing myself to stay calm. "It might ease things right now, but later it could destroy his trust in us permanently. Worse, it could cause his psyche to collapse."
I was surprised that Sena had even suggested it. That kind of mistake was not like her at all. The state Noa was in had clearly shaken her far more than she wanted to admit, pushing her into stress she was not thinking through properly.
Kaen stood nearby, watching Noa with a conflicted expression, his hands clenched at his sides. He fidgeted for a few seconds, then suddenly stopped. Something hardened in his posture. Before I could react, he stepped forward and struck Noa across the face. The sound echoed sharply through the room. Noa's head snapped to the side, his body recoiling weakly.
I was shocked. I had not expected that. If I had known he was going to do something like that, I would have stopped him.
For a brief moment, Noa's eyes focused. Kaen leaned in, his voice raw and sharp. "You are the one who beat me twice," he shouted. "I will not acknowledge someone as weak as you as my rival. Get yourself together. If you could beat me twice, then you can overcome this."
I was stunned. Sena was too. Her expression was completely exposed, shock written plainly across her face, which was unsettling given how carefully she usually controlled herself.
Noa stared at Kaen with empty eyes. There was no spark in them, no recognition. After a moment, his head slowly lowered, and he began sobbing again, quieter now but just as broken.
Kaen stiffened. It was clear he had no idea what to do next. With a frustrated huff, he turned and stormed out of the room, anger flaring as he shouted over his shoulder, his voice sharp with challenge. "I cannot believe I lost to someone this weak." He made sure Noa could hear him. However, I intended to talk to him about the way he showed concern. Given how he was raised, it was understandable why he expressed it that way, but it was not the best approach, and he needed to understand that.
Hours passed with no change. Noa stopped sobbing endlessly and instead drifted in and out of a half-conscious state, caught somewhere between sleep and grief. He did not respond to us at all. That was when I noticed Sena's body language shift. Without saying a word, she bit her finger and slammed her hand into the floor, activating her summoning technique.
This time, the butterfly that appeared was larger, its form more defined. It carried a scroll, which it lowered gently onto the floor before vanishing.
Sena injected her chakra into the seal and opened it. Her eyes widened as she read. "Grandmaster Shuzo has indeed died."
For a moment, I could not process it. Noa had somehow felt it before anyone told him. Was that even possible? The question was cut short by Sena's next words. "Shizuru says the only thing we can do is make sure he eats and drinks. Take him outside. Let him experience the world again and recover at his own pace. We are only to support him and gently encourage him while watching over him."
I glanced at the scroll and noticed how shaky the handwriting was. Shizuru must have been in extreme distress while writing it.
I went to prepare something light and easy to digest. We tried to feed Noa, but he gagged every time, nearly vomiting whenever we pushed too hard. We managed to get him to drink only a few small sips of water before he could not take any more.
In the end, I supported him with my shoulder and decided to take him outside. Dawn had just broken. Sena came with me, and together we walked through the empty streets of Suna, Noa held between us, his weight sagging heavily against our sides.
Anyone who saw us would assume he had been injured during the second stage of the exam. Noa had already run out of tears. His eyes were red and dry, his steps weak and unsteady, barely lifting his feet as we guided him forward.
Eventually we reached the top of the village wall, where Suna fell away beneath us into stone, rooftops, and shadow.
We sat Noa down facing the horizon just as the sun began to rise. I let out a slow breath, the kind I had been holding since the night before, while Sena took his hand in both of hers. Her fingers were shaking. I noticed, of course, but I looked ahead instead, giving her the dignity of pretending I had not.
The desert changed almost imperceptibly at first. The black-blue of night thinned into deep violet, then into streaks of orange and pale gold that spread across the dunes like embers being coaxed back to life. Stone rooftops and towers beneath us caught the light one by one, edges sharpening as shadows pulled away. The last stars faded reluctantly, blinking out as the sky brightened, and a cold morning wind swept over the wall, carrying silence, and the smell of a world that had endured far worse and still greeted the day.
Gradually, I felt Noa's body ease. The violent tremors in his limbs slowed, then stopped entirely. His breathing steadied, shallow at first, then deeper. His eyes, no longer distant or unfocused, fixed on the horizon, following the light as it climbed higher and painted the sky in colors too vast to hold onto.
"I have so many people around me," he said suddenly, his voice thin. "Almost all of them look at me like a prodigy to be shaped. Or a tool to be used against someone. Or a chess piece in a plan that is bigger than me." He swallowed with effort, his throat raw from endless crying. "But the very few who treat me like a human being, who actually care about me…" His voice faltered. "They are always the ones who die."
His gaze never leaving the sunrise. "Am I fated to serve and never be my own person? Am I not meant to be surrounded by people who love me simply for being me, people I can belong with?"
I felt something inside Sena fracture. Her head bowed, her grip tightening around Noa's hand as she stared at the stone beneath our feet, unable to look at him.
I placed a hand on Noa's back, steady and warm, and smiled despite the ache in my chest. "Well," I said softly, "you still have me. I am still alive because of you, Noa, and I will do my absolute best to stay that way and be here for you. You can count me as one of those people you belong with. After all, us prodigies have to stick together." I said it lightly, trying to draw out a smile, or at least something that was not pure sadness.
He turned toward me. For the first time since the night before, there was light in his eyes, fragile but real, finally steady. He nodded, tears spilling free as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, holding on with surprising strength. His sobs came harder this time, but they were different, no longer frantic, no longer empty. Above us, the sun climbed higher, bathing us in gold.