It was a bright morning... but the air was heavy, almost suffocating.
In the Hokage's office, Hiruzen sat in silence, the thick smoke from his pipe curling through the still room.
His face was stern, eyes shadowed with concern.
He finally spoke, voice quiet but sharp.
"What did you find about the fire last night?"
The ANBU knelt, face expressionless but voice serious.
"Lord Hokage, the initial report suggests the fire was intentional. It started from inside the house."
Hiruzen exhaled deeply.
"Casualties?"
"Two people died... a merchant and a child."
The ANBU handed over the report.
Hiruzen's eyes scanned it. His expression tightened.
"So the child was from the elite class?"
"Yes, Lord Hokage."
A pause. The silence pressed down again.
"Check the body thoroughly," Hiruzen ordered. "I want a full report. And summon Inoichi."
"Yes, Lord Hokage."
Moments later
Inoichi Yamanaka entered quickly, sensing the tension.
"You summoned me, Lord Hokage?"
Hiruzen nodded. "It's a serious matter, Inoichi, and handed over the report. There was a fire in the civilian sector. Two people are dead. I need you to use Saiko Denshin."
Inoichi's eyes widened faintly.
"That technique... if the brain is too damaged, I can't guarantee the memory will be intact."
Hiruzen's tone didn't change. "I understand the risk. But I need everything we can get."
Inoichi lowered his head. "Yes, Lord Hokage."
Then, under his breath, he murmured, "Koji... from Ino's class..."
At the Academy
The usual noise of chattering students was replaced by hushed whispers and darting glances.
"Did you hear? It was Koji's house…"
"Someone said he's gone…"
"Gone? Like, dead?"
No one had answers—only rumors.
Iruka walked in, and the class fell silent. His face said everything.
"You may have already heard..." He hesitated, voice cracking just slightly. "There was a fire last night… at Koji's home. He… and his uncle… didn't make it."
Gasps rippled across the room.
"He was just here yesterday…"
"Was it an accident?"
"I don't know," Iruka admitted, and his words were like a crack in glass. "If any of you know something... anything... that might help us understand, please speak."
No one answered.
One girl whispered, "He always sat alone... kept muttering things to himself."
Another added, "He didn't talk to anyone lately."
Iruka swallowed. "Who... were his friends?"
Silence.
The question hung like a noose in the air.
Iruka lowered his eyes. The weight of it all crushed him.
I should've seen this. I'm their teacher. I was supposed to notice.
His voice came out strained. "There'll be no class today. Go home. Be safe."
Bags rustled. Chairs scraped the floor. One by one, they left.
---
Johan POV-
He walked out of the classroom with the rest of them.
His face, as always, was calm.
But inside…
His thoughts spiraled.
The murmurs around him, the gasps, the rumors, they were just noise now.
He heard Iruka's announcement.
He heard the silence that followed.
But none of it touched him.
No tremble.
No blink.
Just quiet.
So… he did it.
Johan lowered his gaze, lips parting slightly, not in sorrow, not in pride. Just… thought.
He actually went through with it.
He should feel something. Regret. Satisfaction. Horror.
But all he found inside was a still void. Cold. Familiar.
Why don't I feel anything? he wondered.
Not even anger. Not even joy.
Just a memory.
Of Koji's eyes when they first met.
Full of fear.
Full of hope.
So easy to twist.
So easy to break.
Johan's fingers curled slightly.
I told him he was weak. I told him strength came from letting go of everything that made him human.
He had followed that path.
He had burned away the chains.
And in the end… he had proven himself.
Johan exhaled slowly, like releasing smoke.
"You did it," he whispered, so softly no one could hear. "You became strong, Koji."
A pause.
A smile flickered—small, brittle, not quite real.
"I'll remember you," he said. "Not for what you were. But for what you became in the end."
His eyes stared forward now, sharp and unblinking.
Then he said it again, colder this time, his voice hollow, no longer a whisper:
"I'll remember you....dear friend."
And just like that… he moved on.
As if none of it had ever happened.