54 I failed 2

Shinichi walked into the hall, his steps slow and heavy, and paused to see Mitsuki reading a book while exhaling smoke. She looked up, her gaze sharp but softening when she saw him.

"How's Satoru?" she asked, her voice calm but carrying an edge of concern.

"He wasn't harmed much," Shinichi replied, settling into the seat next to her.

Mitsuki turned to face him fully, her eyes scanning his features. She immediately noticed the difference—his previous stoic mask was gone, replaced by a mixture of fatigue and guilt.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone more serious now.

"For the first time in my life," Shinichi began, his voice strained, "I've failed this miserably."

Mitsuki's expression shifted to worry. "There were casualties, weren't there?"

Shinichi nodded faintly. "Kaito and Chosuke were found in extreme conditions. I had no choice but to force my students into fights against people far stronger than them. I put them all in danger, and I—" He paused, his voice faltering. "I failed them."

He took a deep breath, his tone colder now. "And my career is gone. I've been suspended indefinitely."

Mitsuki leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Getting suspended for a failed mission... it's not unheard of. It happens. But," she narrowed her eyes, "is there something deeper going on here?"

Shinichi hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small locket. Opening it, he revealed a photo inside—a younger Shinichi standing next to a comrade, both smiling faintly.

Mitsuki glanced at the photo and then back at him, sensing the weight of unspoken words. "Who is this?"

"My comrade," Shinichi replied quietly. "The one who trusted me to lead... and I failed him too."

Shinichi leaned back, his hand trembling as he clutched the locket tightly, staring at its worn exterior.

"Kosuke and I… we were more than comrades," Shinichi began, "We were brothers in every sense of the word, deeper than blood. Kind of like Satoru and that Chunin—Miku. Always there for each other, always watching the other's back. We trusted each other completely. There wasn't a mission we couldn't handle together."

He paused, his grip tightening as his thoughts seemed to drift. Mitsuki observed him carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. She knew that Shinichi, usually so composed, was unraveling in ways she hadn't anticipated.

"After we left the Root," Shinichi continued, his tone heavy, "we made a pact—a code we both swore to follow. It wasn't just words; it became our way of life. Kosuke created it for us, a way to remind ourselves that we were still human. That we weren't just weapons anymore." He exhaled deeply, "That code became my lifeline. It was the only thing keeping me from sliding back into the brainwashed state Root left me in. And I've clung to it ever since... ever since he fell."

The weight of that last sentence lingered in the room. Mitsuki felt the subtle shift in Shinichi's voice, the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. She leaned forward, her tone softer now. "This code… what exactly was it, Shinichi? What did Kosuke leave behind for you?"

Shinichi's gaze didn't leave the locket, "The code was simple: never forsake your teammates. Always treat them like family, because family… family has each other's backs, no matter what." His voice cracked slightly as he continued. "And yet, I failed. On that mission, I broke the very code that kept me grounded. I endangered my family—my students—by forcing them into a battle they couldn't handle. I destroyed someone else's family in the process. I inflicted pain that didn't need to happen."

Mitsuki's brows furrowed. She had seen many shinobi wrestle with guilt before, but Shinichi's was different. It wasn't just about the mission; it was about the core of who he was. "You're holding yourself to an impossible standard, Shinichi," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You made decisions based on the situation in front of you. And in our world, there's no room for absolutes. Morality is subjective at best—a fleeting idea we cling to in order to justify our actions. You and I both know that codes, no matter how noble, are fragile things in the world we live in."

Shinichi shook his head, his expression darkening further. "Maybe so, Mitsuki. But that code wasn't just some fleeting idea. It was Kosuke's legacy. It's all I have left of him. If I let go of it, if I stop living by it, then I lose him all over again. I lose the last part of myself that he saved."

Mitsuki was silent for a moment, her gaze softening as she saw the turmoil in Shinichi's eyes. "You didn't lose Kosuke, Shinichi," she said gently. "Not when you carry his memory with you every day. That code? It's not a burden—it's proof that you're still fighting to stay human in a world that keeps trying to strip that away. And that's what makes you who you are. That's what makes you better than what the Root tried to turn you into."

Shinichi's hand loosened around the locket as her words sank in. For the first time since entering, his posture eased slightly, though the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "I just… I just wish I could've done more. For my students. For the people we lost."

Mitsuki placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice steady. "You did what you could, Shinichi. And sometimes, that has to be enough."

Mitsuki moved closer to Shinichi, her calm presence grounding him in a way he hadn't expected. Before he could process the sudden shift, a noise from the entrance broke the moment. His instincts kicked in, and he tensed, immediately standing up. Mitsuki, sensing his unease, followed as they moved swiftly toward the source of the sound.

When they reached the entrance, the sight before them froze them in place—Satoru, collapsed on the floor, blood dripping from his nose.

"Satoru!" Mitsuki gasped, kneeling beside him. Shinichi crouched down as well, his face hardening with concern.

"He's barely breathing," Shinichi muttered, his hands hovering over Satoru's still form.

"I'll get my medical tools," Mitsuki said, her voice tight with urgency as she darted toward another room.

When she returned, they began a quick diagnosis. Mitsuki's brows furrowed as she examined him. "He's not unconscious… he's slipped into a coma."

Shinichi's stomach dropped. Without wasting another moment, Mitsuki carefully lifted Satoru. "I'm taking him to the hospital. They'll have better resources there."

Shinichi followed her, silent but vigilant, his thoughts racing.

---

The news of Satoru's condition spread quickly, and it wasn't long before Tatsuo and Dai arrived at the hospital. The two boys were pale with worry, memories of past grief creeping into their expressions.

Inside the emergency room, Mitsuki was asked to assist the other medical-nins. Without hesitation, she joined them, her expertise invaluable as they worked on stabilizing Satoru.

Outside, Tatsuo and Dai sat together, their faces etched with fear. Dai clenched his fists, his usually upbeat demeanor completely gone. "This… this feels like Aunty Hana all over again," he said quietly.

Tatsuo nodded, his voice shaky. "When she passed, Satoru changed. He trained so hard he barely talked to us. He shut everyone out."

Shinichi overheard them, his sharp gaze softening as he approached. "This has happened before?" he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

Tatsuo hesitated before answering. "Yeah… when Aunty Hana died. He… he got lost in his training, like he was trying to distract himself from everything."

Shinichi's mind clicked into place. 'So that's it… He internalizes everything. It's no wonder his body's breaking down.'

When Mitsuki finally emerged from the ER, she looked exhausted but composed. "Satoru is stable," she informed them. "He's going to take some time to wake up, though. His body needs rest."

Shinichi nodded, but his expression was grim. "Mitsuki, I need to speak with you. Privately."

She glanced at him, noting the seriousness in his tone, and gestured toward an empty corridor. Once they were alone, Shinichi leaned against the wall, his eyes dark with thought. "I think I understand what's happening to Satoru," he began. "But I need your insight to be sure."

Mitsuki crossed her arms, her gaze steady. "Tell me everything."

Shinichi leaned against the wall, his eyes locked on Mitsuki. "What do you think is going on with Satoru?"

Mitsuki exhaled, crossing her arms. "Based on the tests, it's possible he suffered a head injury during the mission. Sometimes, these injuries don't show immediate symptoms but manifest later, especially after periods of physical or emotional stress." She handed him a report. "There's minor damage to his skull, nothing too severe, but enough to potentially explain his collapse."

Shinichi studied the report, nodding slowly. "That could be part of it," he admitted. "But there's something more. Something Tatsuo and Dai told me that makes me think this isn't just physical."

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow. "What did they say?"

"They mentioned how Satoru changed after Aunty Hana's death. He shut everyone out, became obsessed with training. It wasn't just grief—it was deeper, darker. That's when I remembered something we used to talk about in the Root. A condition we called 'born in blood.'"

Mitsuki's expression shifted, her curiosity piqued. "I've heard rumors about that term before, but I don't know much. What is it exactly?"

Shinichi's gaze grew distant. "It's a psychological response to extreme trauma or a violent upbringing. Children exposed to constant horror—whether through abuse, war, or loss—suppress those memories to survive. But the brain doesn't forget. Over time, those buried experiences resurface, and the child develops violent urges. It's like a compulsion to recreate or reflect the pain they experienced onto others."

Mitsuki frowned, her skepticism evident. "And you're sure this isn't just an exaggerated theory? It sounds… almost too convenient."

Shinichi shook his head. "It's real. Kosuke, my comrade, had it. I've seen what it does. The Root and the older ANBU branches used to take in children with this condition, guiding their urges and channeling them into something productive. It was their way of preventing those kids from becoming monsters. Satoru's behavior matches what I've seen before."

Mitsuki hesitated. "If that's true, shouldn't the Hokage be informed? This isn't something to keep quiet about."

"I'll handle that," Shinichi replied firmly. "The Hokage needs to know, but I also need to figure out how to present this without causing unnecessary alarm. Right now, Satoru needs someone stable to be with him. That's you."

Keiko, Hiten, and Chosuke arrived at the hospital together, Chosuke sitting in a wheelchair pushed by his sister, Chomi.

Tatsuo turned to Chosuke, his brows furrowed. "What are you doing here? You should be resting."

Chomi answered before Chosuke could. "His injuries are mostly in his hands. The wheelchair is just to make sure he doesn't strain himself too much."

Keiko's eyes darted around the room as she asked, "What happened to Satoru?"

Tatsuo hesitated, his voice heavy. "It's... something like what happened after Aunty Hana died."

Keiko's expression darkened. "Do you think he'll stay in a coma for weeks like last time?"

"I don't know," Tatsuo admitted, glancing toward the doors leading to the ER. "But I hope not."

Before anyone could say more, Shinichi returned with Tsunade and a team of Yamanaka ninjas. The group immediately moved to take over Satoru's treatment, their presence adding both relief and tension to the room.

As the medical team worked, Keiko's attention was drawn to someone standing at the edge of the hallway. It was a girl she didn't recognize, her eyes locked on the door to the ER with a look of worry that mirrored her own.

Keiko walked over, her curiosity and concern outweighing her hesitation. "Who are you?" she asked.

The girl looked startled for a moment but quickly composed herself. "I'm Reiko. Reiko Hinanoya. I... went on the mission with Satoru."

Keiko's eyes narrowed slightly. "You were on the mission?"

Reiko nodded, her tone guilty. "More like I sneaked out without permission. But I helped him."

Keiko crossed her arms, studying her carefully. "You care about Satoru, don't you?"

Reiko met her gaze, unflinching. "I do. He saved me, and... I owed him my help." Then, seeing Keiko's expression, she added, "You must be Keiko. His girlfriend, right?"

Keiko's eyes softened slightly. "I am. Thank you for helping him."

Reiko hesitated. "It wasn't just helping him. He helped me too."

Keiko nodded slowly, the tension easing. "What should I call you?"

"Reiko is fine," she replied, but Keiko shook her head.

"Hinanoya-san, then?"

Reiko smiled faintly. " Sure, that works as well."

As the rest of the group dispersed toward the cafeteria, only Shinichi and Tatsuo stayed behind, waiting for the doctor. Keiko and Reiko found a quiet table in the cafeteria and sat down together.