Warnings: Generous amounts of Uzumaki & Uzushio headcanon, info dumping, and a sequence of dissociation at the end of the chapter.

Word Count: 9,396

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its related content.

A/N: Hi. I know the wait for this was very long. I promise it felt even longer for me. Won't bore you with the details, but long story short, my life fell apart for a bit. I have arthritis in my dominant hand now, among a number of other personal problems. This chapter was sitting at 7k words in my Google Drive for over a year. I finally got around to finishing it. Thank you for all the follows, favorites, kudos, bookmarks, reviews, comments, etc. that came in while I was away.

With regards to the actual chapter: it's long. It is also a bit… strange, from a narrative standpoint, since at this age Kaisei oscillates between childishness and sharp intelligence without prejudice. There's a ton of exposition. There are too many adverbs and there is a great deal of repetition. It was something I did on purpose, though, and it will be gone after this chapter (for reasons that will become apparent), so please don't let it put you off of the story as a whole. (The exposition might take a while to go away, though. Intro arc and all that.)

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: Quiescence, I

"Concentrate on the area around your diaphragm, between your chest and stomach. Notice how it feels, how it moves. Let your breathing slow as you focus. There should be an energy there, like a ball of sunlight just below your ribs— find that energy, and guide it out from where it's hiding, towards your hands. Gently, like you're helping a friend."

Seated motionlessly on damp grass, a five year-old child exhaled deliberately, the only acknowledgement that he had heard the words of the redheaded man seated before him. He brought his hands up to rest in his lap as a ram seal, small fingers fumbling slightly, before once again falling still.

As he focused, a small crease appeared in the skin between his brows. The corners of his lips turned down very slightly, and it was with evident effort that he did not squirm with impatience. But the boy remained stationary, the slow rise and fall of his chest growing slower and slower as time went on, until it evened out into a steady trance. Seated in front of the boy, the redheaded man folded his own left hand into a half-ram, mimicking the boy's calm breaths.

An almost unnoticeable pressure built up in the air around them. It was slight, as minuscule as a single blade of grass being added to a vast plain, but both figures sensed it nonetheless.

The light around the older redhead flickered once with bronze and copper hues, there and gone in less than a second. Shuddering visibly at the change, the younger's pinched expression further soured. But his breathing did not waver, and for a brief instant, his hands seemed to glow with topaz light. The pressure increased tenfold for a breathless moment—

And then it shattered like glass.

"I almost had it!" The younger cried, hands sliding clumsily out of the seal to smack against the ground with frustration. They abandoned the effort halfway through in favor of rubbing harsh lines across his forehead, which was rapidly blooming with pain. He blinked, and his vision danced with spots.

He didn't care. He'd almost had it. He had felt the large pool of energy tucked neatly behind his ribs, as bright as the sun and cool as the sea, but it had simply not wanted to move. The other energy source — the one that had originated from his companion — had helped coax it out, just a bit. Like dipping the end of a single toe in the water, the faintest trickle of it had eased towards his fingertips in wary exploration.

Yet as soon as he tried to increase the flow, it was like the energy surged forward, only to hit a wall and retreat. It snapped back into place like a rubber band, and set his head reeling. He wondered if that was how it might feel to Body Flicker straight into a tree, head first.

There was something wrong with the energy. It was simply too stubborn, far beyond what was usual even for the particularly recalcitrant.

Of course, being five, he had no way to articulate all of this— all he knew was that he could not move it, felt that he should not move it, but desperately wanted to anyway. Despite the splitting headaches it caused, the sense of wrongness that built with each insistent nudge, he wanted nothing more.

Across from him, the redheaded man sighed, releasing his own half-seal in favor of reaching out to steady the swaying five year-old. His hands gripped the boy's small shoulders carefully, like they would break beneath his fingers. Given his slim figure, and that he barely passed for a hundred and seventy centimeters tall on a good day, it was an especially amusing thought to have.

As dangerous as he could be, given the tools and motivation, Uzumaki Yukine was not exactly a threat to his sickly five year-old son.

"Steady," Yukine warned, support firm where his son now leaned into his hold. "I've told you, Kaisei, you can't force this. Finding your chakra for the first time can take months, ya know. Don't rush it so much."

Kaisei's look of frustration only became further pronounced. "'m not trying to," he retorted, still rubbing weakly at his forehead and eyes. "It just doesn't wanna listen."

This got him a hum in response. The grip on his shoulders eased until it disappeared entirely, and then he was being swept up into his father's arms, body held carefully against his hip. By all means, he should be too large for such a thing, at age five, but Kaisei had always been on the smaller side. He wondered if he would ever be taller than his Papa.

"You know," Yukine said mildly, a slight gleam in his eyes. "They say chakra behavior mimics the person it belongs to."

It took Kaisei a long moment to parse through that.

"HEY!" He finally cried, indignant, smacking a tiny hand against his father's bicep. "I listen! I listen to you and Mama, an' Ishikawa-sensei too! I'm the best listener!"

His father laughed, bell-like and light as snow. "I'm just teasing, Kaisei. You're a very good listener. Let's take a break for a while, okay?"

Kaisei harrumphed, moody and petulant, but the way his fingers curled into his father's top belied his reluctance. He was tired of meditating for hours and hours and hours, just for his chakra to pull away like it was afraid of letting him grasp it, like it couldn't move even if he wanted it to. He was tired of his head feeling like it was a cracked egg, and he was tired of his eyes feeling like they were going to fall out of his face. He was just really, really tired, and a break sounded good, even if he was stubborn enough to keep trying anyway.

A long nap sounded nice, right then. He decided he wanted nothing more than to drink some of the special tea Ishikawa-sensei gave him, eat his lunch, and sleep until dinner time. He wanted to wake up from his nap and eat his Papa's udon for dinner, wanted to read the letter from auntie they'd received that morning, wanted to spend some time learning calligraphy from Mama, and then he wanted to sleep even more. Training was stupid, he decided.

(Even though he also wanted to feel his bright-and-cool chakra flow into his hands. Wanted to sleep without waking himself up thrashing and gasping because his heart was beating so fast with fear that it felt like it was going to explode. Wanted to meditate without his head pounding hard enough to make his ears ring. Wanted his Papa to answer when he asked why they didn't live with auntie in Konoha, wanted to go into the main village with his Mama when she worked all day, even though he wasn't allowed past Ishikawa-sensei's house, wanted to know why he wasn't allowed past Ishikawa-sensei's house in the first place, because it's not like he'd ever seen anything dangerous out here in teeny-tiny Wave Country. Kaisei wanted a lot of things, but he was starting to realize he could never have most of them.)

"Where are we going?" He asked aloud, instead, because he wanted to know that, too, and at least this answer was attainable. Yukine hoisted him further up on his hip in response, humming again.

"To eat lunch," he replied, before adopting a grave expression. "Papa's really hungry, you see. I feel like I could eat up the whole ocean."

Kaisei eyed him dubiously, and then turned to look off at the horizon, barely visible over his father's shoulders. He didn't comment on the fact that they were walking in the opposite direction of their house; if he was finally going to be allowed to go into the main village, then he had nothing to complain about. He snorted.

"I dunno, Papa. I think it's too big to eat, ya know?"

"Really? I think it would be pretty easy, little sea."

Abruptly, Kaisei found himself being pulled up towards his father's face, blood red hair flying in every direction as it was nuzzled and mussed to the sound of false mealtime noises. His vision swam for a moment as he moved, head still pounding and a bit unsteady, but it receded as fast as it came, leaving him to shriek with childish delight. His legs kicked wildly about as he flailed and tried to escape.

Undeterred by the abuse, Yukine continued his roughhousing and manhandling, effectively distracting his son from ruminating in his no doubt frustrated thoughts. They continued their small journey like this, winding up the road in the vague direction of the village. In the distance, the sea could be heard lapping against the rocky seashores below, occasionally crashing against a cliff side. It was nearly inaudible over the shrieks and laughter of the redheaded child.

After at least twenty minutes of walking — the latter ten having finally been spent in somewhat peaceful silence, once the screaming headache rattling Kaisei's skull made itself fully known once again — the path before them split. One half twisted in the vague direction of the coast, leading clearly uphill. The other retreated further into the sparse forest, heading inland.

To Kaisei, this fork was a familiar sight. He had never been allowed to take the one to the right, which led further towards the center of the island, facing away from the distant Fire Country coastline and moving instead towards Water Country. He had tried sneaking his way up it only once; it had ended with no udon for a month, five entire scrolls worth of calligraphy practice, clan history lessons for a week, and his Papa's stressed and terrified scolding about Kiri shinobi and bloodlines and kidnapping and— needless to say he was left a bit intimidated by his punishments, and so had no desire to ever attempt sneaking into the village without supervision again. Ever. Even if the supposed dangers were ones he had never heard of before, let alone seen.

He was definitely still interested in going, though. That hadn't changed at all. So, when the two of them reached the fork, this time, it was with great anticipation that he watched his father's feet as they moved off in a decisive direction.

The almost inaudible tap of sandals against dirt did not falter as they veered to the left.

A ball of disappointment, heavy as lead, pulled Kaisei's stomach to the ground. He pressed small fingers against the bony area just above his eye, halfway to his temple, attempting to stave off the pain still present there. It figured. Even after something as maddening as failing to unlock his chakra (for the third time), he wasn't allowed into the village. Not even with his Papa present. Sometimes he wished his Mama would finally snap and tell Papa that he was being ridiculous, but Mama worried lately too, for some reason. He knew she wouldn't be doing it any time soon.

Kaisei was going to be stuck in Sector E of Wave Country for the rest of his life, it felt like, and he absolutely hated it. He hated it almost as much as he hated not being able to grasp his chakra.

He wanted to see Whirlpool Country, where his Papa grew up and learned how to make seals prettier than his vibrant red hair. He wanted to see Konoha, where his auntie lived now, working as a shinobi with their clan's gleaming fire-orange chakra at her beck and call. He wanted to see Lightning Country, where his Mama's mama traveled from, a refugee from the First War who saw something worth loving in the small nation they now inhabited.

He wanted to see Wave Country, where he was born and raised and where his family decided to spend all their lives. He had still never seen anything outside the far reaches of Sector E, where their home sat isolated near the Fire Country coast.

Kaisei really wished he could get more of the things he wanted. He'd give up all the others he mentioned earlier, give up feeling his chakra, or being able to sleep through the whole night, just to have this one thing, he thought.

Downtrodden, his eyes wandered absently over the path they'd taken instead. It was familiar to him. Almost as familiar as the one leading to his home. A much smaller path branched off less than ten paces up the hill, and he knew this was where they were headed. It led to a small cliffside overlooking the ocean, and ordinarily, he would he thrilled to have lunch at the little outlook. Today had been disheartening, though, and so the prospect of looking out at a sea he'd never get to cross, still unable to consciously feel the flow of chakra through his coils, was simply unappealing.

Imagine his surprise when, instead of turning off onto the smaller route, his father continued walking up the much wider main pathway. Kaisei's face lit up.

"Are we going to see—?" He began hopefully, receiving an affirmative nod and scrambling out of his father's arms before he had even finished the sentence. Yukine smiled indulgently at him, releasing the suddenly animated child with little fanfare. Kaisei was out of his arms and halfway up the slope in seconds.

"Be careful!" The man said loudly, voice just barely carrying up to the boy who was already almost out of sight. Only the reassurance that they walked this path nearly every week allowed him to remain relaxed at the thought. From his position atop the incline, Kaisei gave a hasty wave of reassurance.

"I'm going ahead!" He bellowed, ignoring the pressure building in his head at the volume, and disappeared from his father's view.

Stumbling up the path with all the grace expected of a five year-old civilian, Kaisei laid eyes on the distant and semi-obscured house eagerly. It was small, from the outside, but it was pristine and sturdy, as constant as the sea below them. The path leading up to it was even and beaten, free of debris or obstructions. He knew it was because of the number of people that traversed it week by week; the home was almost as far from the village as his own, but it still managed to draw someone towards it every single day.

He rubbed thoughtlessly at his eyes, the pain there easing slightly as his mood lifted, and grinned. He and his parents probably accounted for about half of those visitors, though he wouldn't have it any other way. This house wasn't his house, didn't have the clearing for training outside or the seals scattered everywhere or the warm fiery tones on the walls, but it was still one of his spaces. It would never be home, true, but there were bits and pieces of it that came close.

One last step propelled him towards the door, red hair whipping out behind him like a banner. He threw it open with far more force and enthusiasm than was strictly necessary, wincing slightly as his head throbbed in perfect timing with the loud BANG! it caused. Considering he wasn't immediately pelted with a flurry of insults and curse words for his obtrusive volume, he assumed that his presence wasn't entirely unwelcome, and marched further into the building.

"Ishikawa-sensei?" He called, careful not to raise his voice too much, lest he aggravate his head again. "Papa brought me here for lunch! D'you have any medicine for my head? It started hurting again during training."

His sandals were kicked off hastily as he spoke, clattering down onto the entryway floor loudly and with almost appalling casualness. Unconcerned, Kaisei padded his way into the large multipurpose room he knew to be situated near the kitchen.

A peek around the area turned up no signs of life, sans the copious amount of plants situated on a windowsill. He frowned in confusion, looking around again, before his eyes fell on the sofa shoved haphazardly against the wall to his right. They zeroed in on the figure sprawled across it lazily with laser focus, drifting towards the bowl of noodles clutched in the figure's hands entirely against his will. It took everything in him not to demand a bite.

From her position on the sofa, Ishikawa Masumi eyed the intruding five year-old with distaste and vague amusement. Her drowsy gaze did little to intimidate him, though, and he instead noted the new cut to her hair. The straight, harsh edges framing her face made her jaw look even sharper than usual.

"If you have a migraine, quit shouting so much," she complained. "And stop bursting into my house so suddenly. What if I'd had a patient, you brat? Mind your damn manners."

"Sorry for the intrusion," Kaisei replied insincerely. He was still staring at the noodles. A single hand came up to rub at his throbbing eyes. She snorted derisively, and slurped up an impressive load of the food from her chopsticks. Her rebuttal was barely comprehensible around the mouthful.

"No, you're not, but you will be if you don't stop staring at my lunch. Cut it out. Your medicine is in the same cabinet as always."

Kaisei wilted, his shoulders slumping as he turned away towards the cabinet in question.

Ishikawa Masumi was a tall, pale woman, with eyes the color of mud and hair as black as pitch. Her face was usually affixed with a drowsy, uninterested expression, when it wasn't twisted up with derision or annoyance, and the only time Kaisei had ever seen her smile was when she and Papa had been talking about Uzushio over cups of sake. He wasn't supposed to hear that conversation, though, so as far as she knew, he'd never seen her smile. She probably preferred it that way.

In actuality, Kaisei didn't know much about Ishikawa-sensei. He knew that she and Papa had been friends for years, but Papa was awesome, and he didn't see any reason why they wouldn't be friends. Especially if they were both from Whirlpool Country. He knew that her favorite food was sushi, but then, they lived next to the ocean. You had to like sushi. The only interesting thing Kaisei really knew about Ishikawa-sensei was that she was a doctor. Not a medic-nin, or a healer like the one in Sector B, but a doctor. Apparently the difference was very important, though he didn't quite understand why.

She kept her certification from the Water daimyō in a frame on the wall, next to two slightly less impressive ones from the Wave and Whirlpool daimyōs. All three validated her title in their respective nations, and although she'd never bragged about them, or really done more than comment on how ugly they were, Kaisei knew Ishikawa-sensei was proud of them. He thought it was pretty cool that she was a doctor, too. Even if he had no idea why the title was so special.

Still, despite knowing very little about his father's older friend, Kaisei couldn't help but adore her. She was rude, foul-mouthed, petulant, childish, and apparently regarded as "a bit of a quack", but she was endlessly patient with him. Not even Mama was endlessly patient with him. Not that he blamed her; he had been told how unmanageable his energy was. Yet, somehow, Ishikawa-sensei managed it.

She listened when he rambled on about his latest letter from auntie. She never got mad at him for drifting off in the middle of a conversation. She didn't make him sit still for longer than it took to give him his vaccines, never scolded him for getting distracted during lessons, indulged him in things like extra snacks and stories pulled from his Papa's time as an Uzushio genin. She answered all of his questions. She always told him the truth. Ishikawa-sensei was amazing. But, if someone were to ask Kaisei what his favorite thing about her was—

"So, what have you and your Papa been up to today, pipsqueak?"

—it was that she was there to listen.

The problem, he thought, as he pulled his medicine from the cabinet, face screwed up at the strong scent, is that there's nobody else to talk to in the first place. It made him sort of sad. He loved his parents more than anything else in the whole world, but… he could admit that he was also lonely. Even if it made him sound like a clingy little kid, he really needed Ishikawa-sensei.

Papa was always there. They spent all of their time together from breakfast until dinner, training and learning while they waited for Mama to come home from work. Then Mama was home at night to teach him more things, like calligraphy, and bring home any letters they might have gotten from the post office. Then he went to bed, slept, and when he woke up it was the same thing again. He didn't know anybody else on the island, let alone have friends to chat with.

He never got to talk to Mama's customers. Sometimes she would tell him about them, or complain about them to Papa where he could overhear, but that was all. Papa's only customers were shinobi, so not even he got to see them most of the time. Auntie sent them lots of letters, true, but they'd become less and less frequent since he turned four. The one he got today — which had been sent directly to Papa with a messenger bird, which was awesome — was the first one since February, and it was July. It was no wonder he loved talking to Ishikawa-sensei so much. Even if she weren't cool, she was the only one he could talk to anyway.

That just made it all the better any time she asked him about his day, though. Papa was always there for his day, so there was no reason to tell him about it. Mama always heard about it from Papa, too, so she didn't wanna hear about it all over again from him. Especially when they both knew he was just going to get sidetracked halfway through and start babbling about something totally different. Knowing that Ishikawa-sensei was there to listen to him talk about all the cool stuff he learned, or tell him about what it was like when Papa was learning those things, well, it was really nice.

The skip in his step as he bounced back into the room was evidence enough of that.

"Papa taught me the next part of the Ebb-Flow stretches," he chirped, making a beeline for the teapot he'd noticed on the table in front of Ishikawa-sensei earlier. "An' I finally learned my last set of foundations."

Ishikawa-sensei made a vague, impressed noise in the back of her throat. She swatted his hands away from the teapot with the sort of absent annoyance one might use when swatting a fly, pulling it away and pouring the water into an empty cup with a look of reproach. Kaisei averted his eyes innocently. It wasn't his fault the water always missed when he poured it.

"Not bad," the woman observed. "Yuki didn't finish his foundations until he was seven."

Not even the fragrant medicinal tea being placed in front of him was enough to keep him from beaming.

Foundations weren't, really, that big of a deal. They were the basic shapes, symbols, and kanji you could use as the anchor of a seal. Which one you used was just a stylistic preference. Papa had told him that outside of Uzushio, most villages taught kanji based sealing, so it wasn't even important to learn the others. But Uzushio was different. It was the only shinobi village made up entirely of sealing-oriented clans: to know how to survive, an Uzushiogakure shinobi would have to know all the different sealing styles. Knowing what a comrade's seal did without them having to explain it mid-mission was important. So, it was tradition for Academy students to learn all of the various styles.

The Uzumaki used spirals, for theirs. Everything was radial, moving out from a single center point. Other clans used squares, or rhombuses, or even triangles on occasion. The Tsukigata and the Umegawa each used a different variation of Yin and Yang— the Tsukigata based theirs around the Eight Trigrams, which had dozens of figure combinations, while the Umegawa based theirs on chakra, using kanji as the anchor. Overall, Kaisei had to learn around ten different foundations, and all the variations that came along with them. It was hard. Usually getting that far in his studies would mean it was time for him to start working on basic sealing, himself.

Unfortunately for him, that kind of progress wasn't possible in his case. Nothing he made could be used. Even if he was finished learning all of his basics, had already started his theory lessons and made vague mock-ups of seal components and matrices, he didn't have access to his chakra. Any attempts at unlocking it resulted in the same things he had experienced today: headaches, eventual nightmares, and his own endless frustration. He was smart— he knew there was nothing normal about his situation. The fact that Ishikawa-sensei hadn't found anything wrong with his chakra system was only more worrying, and he wondered somewhat dejectedly if his auntie had cajoled Papa into training him for nothing. Perhaps he would never be capable of anything more than basic, boring, civilian-level blood seals.

Taking a long, deep drink from his tea, an expression of disgust on his face (it tasted awful), he thought back to the day's training session. It wasn't all bad. He had, as he'd told Ishikawa-sensei, learned the next part of the Ebb-Flow stretches Papa had been teaching him for the last few weeks. He was fairly sure he only had two or three more movements left before they moved onto the Tide Fist. The Tide Fist was no Heavenly Stream — the style auntie used — but he was still excited. It would be his first taijutsu form, ever. He'd finally be able to start learning proper shinobi arts! Any progress towards that was totally worth it, he thought. Plus, even if he couldn't actually use seals yet, he was proud of how far he'd come. That he finished this part of his lessons two years earlier than Papa was even better.

He was still mad about the chakra, though. He just couldn't help it. Noticing his silence, and worsening mood, Ishikawa gave him a knowing look. He stuck his tongue out at her, eyes flickering towards the hall as he heard his Papa's soft call of intrusion.

"You worked with your chakra again, I'm guessing?" She asked, apparently disapproving. "No wonder you've got a headache. I thought I told Yuki to stop pushing you. Should've known he wouldn't listen, the pushover. He's as useless as ever."

"That's not fair," Kaisei protested. "Papa only did it 'cause auntie and I asked him to, ya know. It's not his fault she's so scary. An' anyway, I gotta keep trying if I ever want to learn more shinobi arts! I can't let headaches and nightmares stop me forever, Ishikawa-sensei."

Any reply she might have given him (a choice one, no doubt, considering the look on her face) was cut off by his Papa's soft sigh, a hand coming down to rest firmly on his head.

"No, Masumi's right, Kaisei. I could have told you no," Yukine said, before giving her a wry look. "Of course, she didn't have to be so harsh about it."

Ishikawa snorted. "If I weren't harsh with you pepper-headed idiots, you'd never listen. But it's not the nightmares that I'm worried about, or even those annoying headaches. Your pathways may be healthy, Kaisei, but your chakra is way too dense for someone your age. Not even Yuki's crazy cousin has such heavy Yin. Forcing it out will cause nothing but trouble, I'm telling you. Quit while you're ahead."

"But— but we're a shinobi clan! It's, I want to… I have to use chakra, ya know! And auntie's not crazy!"

"No, she's pretty crazy," Yukine disagreed. He couldn't quite keep the bitter tone out of his voice as he added: "That aside, though, you don't have to be a shinobi, Kaisei. Your health is more important."

"Why you'd want to be one in the first place is a fucking mystery," Ishikawa hissed. Her own bitterness was thrice as vicious and half as concealed. "Uzushio's were the only decent sort, and it's not like any of them are left, no thanks to the other bastard mercenaries."

"Masumi," Yukine scolded. "That's enough."

Kaisei couldn't help the way his eyes watered.

"You're just sayin' that 'cause you're not a shinobi, Ishikawa-sensei," he accused rubbing (not so) discreetly at his eyes. He didn't see the look his Papa shot at the doctor. "You don't get it. It's different, ya know? I wanna be strong like auntie and Papa."

At that, Yukine sighed, finally collapsing into a seated position on the floor between his son and Ishikawa. His hand ruffled absently at Kaisei's loose red hair before his arm wrapped around the child's tiny waist, pulling him into his lap.

"I'm technically not a shinobi either, ya know," he said, making Kaisei blink. "I was ranked the same as a chūnin, sure, but I was too specialized to take field missions. I just sat at a table and made seals all day. My official title was journeyman, not chūnin. A lot of the clan was like that."

"Oh," Kaisei replied dumbly. He sniffled a bit. "I didn't think there was a difference."

"And that's why you're still learning," the admonishment was gentle. "Let's stop arguing for now, okay? We're here to eat lunch, not fight. You've had a difficult morning; Masumi and I were too hard on you. If you want to be a shinobi, that's up to you to decide. Even Mama and auntie agree. We'll just have to be extra careful with your chakra from now on."

The dismissal of the subject left a bad taste in Kaisei's mouth, but he nodded anyway. He didn't want to fight, either, and he was still upset from training. Ishikawa-sensei might have distracted him for a bit, with talk of foundation progress, but that sour feeling of frustrated defeat lingered. He still wanted to drink his tea, eat his lunch, and go to sleep. He was so exhausted.

"How about we do some more lessons while Masumi makes us lunch," his Papa suggested, though Ishikawa only gave him a look of disdain. "I can teach you the difference between what I did in Uzushio and what your auntie does in Konoha, and Masumi can apologize for making you sad. Okay?"

"Don't we already have lunch in our storage scrolls?" Kaisei asked, confused.

"I'm not apologizing for shit," Ishikawa groused.

"Right," Yukine ignored them both blithely. "That sounds like a good plan."

Lunch passed in a slow blur, after that. Ishikawa-sensei did make him a meal, even if she complained the whole time and refused to prepare so much as a bowl of rice for Papa. Papa carefully explained the difference between shinobi, samurai, civilians, and the confusing new concepts of "special forces" and "licensed workers."

Special forces were apparently what Papa and a respectable chunk of the clan were: shinobi so specialized in a single field that they weren't allowed on regular missions, like researchers or Sealing Division members. They tended to be promoted through sponsorship by their department, and most held the rank of genin. Some were stubborn enough to make it to special jōnin, but not many.

"I was a member of the Sealing Division, myself," Yukine elaborated, his chopsticks waving vaguely through the air. Ishikawa looked appalled at his manners. Kaisei thought that was kinda funny, considering Mama said she was even more rude than Papa most days. "We were ranked by our Seal Mastery status. The lowest you could be was an apprentice. After that was journeyman, then Seal Master. I was a level three journeyman when the village… fell. I'd probably be somewhere near my second or third level of a Mastery by now, but I'm not real sure. Your auntie was on her tenth Mastery level by the time she was a Konoha chūnin, though. She was always gifted, ya know? Just like our own auntie."

That, Kaisei decided, was easy enough to understand. He hadn't known something like that could exist before, but it made sense now that he thought about it. Not everyone could be good at all the shinobi arts. There had to be people like him; ones who couldn't use their chakra, or who didn't know much taijutsu. What were they supposed to do, in that case? They were still good at other things. It seemed like a waste to keep them out of the shinobi forces entirely. Having specialized forces was the only logical conclusion.

Licensed workers were a bit more confusing, however.

"Ishikawa-sensei, you're a licensed worker?" Kaisei asked, stunned. She hated shinobi! Her face scrunched up at the question.

"Yes, though not by choice," she responded, clearly annoyed. Lunch was winding down, by now, and she and Papa were carefully clearing the dirty dishes away from the table in front of him. "Doctors, healers, merchants, suppliers— you practically have to be just to make a living in a shinobi state. It's a huge pain in the ass. Applying for the license means signing a non-disclosure agreement with all your shinobi clientele, and you have to adhere to specific laws when you're in a Hidden Village. Great for settlers, bad for caravans. You're all but fucked if a war breaks out. Keeping secrets from the 'enemy' is the same as taking sides, after all. Fucking mercenaries."

Apparently, if you wanted to work with shinobi on any kind of regular basis while remaining a civilian, you had to apply for a license to do so with the daimyō of the country you wanted to work in. The licenses weren't all that hard to get, surprisingly — just a background check and a lot of paperwork — but like Ishikawa-sensei said, you had to adhere to special laws in Hidden Villages, and a new one was needed for every different country you wanted to work in. If the country you were based in didn't have a Hidden Village, the license wasn't necessary, but most shinobi wouldn't work with you if you didn't have one from their country anyway. Papa and Ishikawa-sensei both had two each, for Water and Fire Countries. There was more to it, some stuff about Clans and Families having different rules, but he wasn't listening too carefully to that part.

Kaisei'd had no idea there could be such a thing. It baffled him. Why would you need a license to help people? Ishikawa-sensei said that she'd had Kumo shinobi refuse her treatment just because she wasn't a Lightning licensed worker. Was it that important to keep shinobi secrets? Was loyalty that important? He didn't really get it. The only people he'd ever be so loyal to were his family.

He paused where he had been taking a sip from his now-cold tea. Maybe that was the point…? He was loyal to his family, and even though his only family were Mama, Papa, Ishikawa-sensei, and auntie, he knew he'd be loyal to the rest of the Uzumaki if they were still alive. If the Uzumaki lived in Uzushio, then, wouldn't that make him loyal to Uzushio? He didn't know much about Konoha, since auntie was so tight-lipped about actual shinobi stuff, but he knew that he was more loyal to Fire Country's village than he was to, say, Wind Country's. That must be why shinobi cared so much about the licenses, he decided. Your family are in your village. That makes your village important, and that makes keeping their secrets important.

… Well, it was something like that, anyway.

Mulling the question over, draining the last of his tea (and with it, chasing away the lingering wisps of his migraine), Kaisei listened with half an ear to the hushed conversation he could hear Papa and Ishikawa-sensei having in the kitchen. The distance made it almost completely incomprehensible. It wasn't until he padded quietly towards them, empty mug in hand, that he was able to make out exact words.

"... too close to Water Country," Yukine was saying. "Or so Ayaka says. She thinks we'll be relying on Whirlpool and other minor countries until the conflict blows over."

Ishikawa hummed. Her response was barely a murmur. "I'll have to rush the delivery on some of my imports, then. What a pain in the ass."

Kaisei tilted his head, confusion creasing his brow. Why would Mama think them too close to Water Country? He hadn't forgotten his Papa's hysteric ramblings about the dangers of Kiri shinobi, but even he knew that Water Country citizens made up a big chunk of Mama's customers. Ishikawa-sensei's patients, too, come to think of it. In fact, almost all of her patients that weren't from the village were Kiri shinobi, or, occasionally, Konoha ones. Wasn't it… good, that they were close? Mama had never said otherwise before.

I don't get it, he concluded, and padded further into the kitchen.

"Papa," he said, gently placing his mug in the sink, making the two adults fall quiet. "I finished my medicine. Can I read the letter auntie sent me before we leave?"

The older redhead and Ishikawa exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them. Kaisei shifted with impatience. He wasn't completely oblivious to the silent communication — he'd seen the two of them and Mama do it enough to know it was significant — but he wasn't quite smart, attentive, or interested enough to decipher the meaning behind it. He'd already had too much to think about in the last few hours. Everything had been too serious. Auntie's letter was sure to make him feel better; that was all he cared about right now.

"Alright," Yukine eventually relented, after being subjected to his sons wide, pleading eyes. "Masumi and I were just discussing the one she sent us, so it's only fair. But we'll be going over clan history when we get back home."

Kaisei sulked. "Fine," he conceded. "But I wanna try to get my chakra one more time today. Just one! An' then— then we can stop for awhile. Since Ishikawa-sensei said, ya know."

"You're a brat," Ishikawa muttered. She rested a hand on the top of his head. "I'll allow it just this once. Don't you dare pull any stupid stunts on me, though, or I'll have you skinned."

That seemed fair. He nodded, giving her a quick squeeze of thanks around the waist — much to her consternation — before turning to his Papa. Expectant. Yukine just sighed fondly, shuffling the papers around the countertop in search. The stack he handed his son was thicker than usual, but nowhere near the size of the one he and Ishikawa had apparently been reading from.

"Go read," the older encouraged. "You can even write your reply before lessons. Masumi and I have boring grown-up things to discuss, for now."

Kaisei didn't have to be told twice. He darted towards the sofa in the other room, eyes already moving slowly across the first page.

Year 957 A.N.
XX of July

Little Sea,

I can't believe you! Pulling such a horrible prank on your Papa like that— I'm so PROUD! It's not as great as some of what I was doing at your age, but with an imagination like yours, I'm sure you'll get there! Just don't tell Yuki I'm encouraging you, okay? He may be a total pushover, but he can be pretty scary when he's mad.

Speaking of pushovers: you'll never believe what that stupid sissy Namikaze did. He actually asked me on a date. A DATE! It only took him ten years of flirting and a genin team to work up the nerve. Ugh. He might as well have gone ahead and asked me to marry him. Listen up: you may be a munchkin now, but when you're old enough, you better not keep the person you love waiting! I'm sure Aya and that crotchety old doctor will tell you the same thing. Yuki's just like Minato, though, all subservient and red-faced when it comes to women, so he'll be useless when it comes to talking about this stuff. Listen to auntie!

But you don't care about that kind of thing yet, so I'll get to the good stuff.

You've probably already finished your foundations by now — I know, I know, it's been WAY too long since my last letter; sorry, little sea! — so I sent you some reeeeeally basic seals to work on. Most of them are only a single matrix, but there's a few that have two, and I even threw in a four component one! Aren't I generous? I'm your favorite aunt, right? Just make sure you have Yuki check the mock-ups. They may be simple, but it's easy to let mistakes slip through the cracks sometimes. I'd have blown myself up more times than I can count if I hadn't had my mom and pops around to double-check my components. Sealing's a delicate art; you can't let bad habits stick around.

I'm not sure if you're still having trouble with your chakra or not, but I got some advice from my cowardly cousin for you. She's a bitter old lady and it was a huge pain to contact her, but she's the best doctor and medic-nin I've ever known, so you better pay attention. You get those god-awful migraines when you're meditating, right? And you have nightmares? Well, I told her that, and she said you probably have a spiritual block on that dense Yin chakra of yours. It's pretty common in older veteran shinobi. I dunno what kind of spiritual block a five year-old can have, but she usually knows what she's talking about. So chin up! Look inside yourself, find what's holding you back and tell it to get lost! You're an Uzumaki; you can do anything you put your mind to! That's our ninja way. No holding back. No giving up. Persevere!

I know Yuki doesn't want you to be a shinobi, and sometimes, I agree with him. But you're too much like Aya and I for your own good, even if you have a lot of Yuki in you, and that means you'll always do what you think is best. If that means being a shinobi? Then I'll make damn sure you're the best shinobi you can be. Work hard, take care of yourself, and keep an eye on Yuki for me, okay? I believe in you!

Lots of love—
Uzumaki Kushina
Shinobi of the Former Uzushiogakure, Whirlpool Country
29th Head of the Uzumaki Clan

Kaisei smiled, lips wobbly from the threat of more tears, but couldn't hold back a huff at the signature. Auntie had complained to him about the formality of it more times than he could count, yet she still wrote it every time. She was too proud of their heritage not to. He understood. He was pretty proud of being an Uzumaki, too.

Shuffling through the attached pages almost made his tears spill, out of sheer joy if nothing else. True to her word, auntie had included a few incomplete seals alongside her letter. More than a few. Kaisei counted four basic one-matrix one-component seals, two two-matrix one-component ones, and a final, visibly complex two-matrix four-component seal. None of them were in the Uzumaki style. That was— that was seven seals. Seven seals he'd never seen before, even incomplete as they were. The one-one and two-two ones might not entertain him for long, but the two-four was sure to be a long term project. He was ecstatic. He'd been working on the same three one-one seals with Papa for weeks.

To his disappointment, however, all of the other papers were blank. He could only assume they were meant to be his response pages; there were two of them, and though he usually wrote a page at absolute most (because Mama and Papa always scolded him when he rambled for too long, saying it was a wonder she even had the time to check the mail most days), he wondered how he would fit everything he wanted to say into a meager two. It'd been too long since the last time they'd spoken. So much had happened in the time since.

If auntie says I can do it, I can definitely do it, he thought, taking extra care with the flourish in the first character of "Kushina." Just one more try.

Just one more try, and surely, he'd feel that bright-cool flow of chakra through his small, steady hands.

Kaisei's mandatory pre-training history lessons took place seated in the same grassy clearing he'd spent the last months trying to unlock his chakra in. Above them, the summer sun was still high, shining down with a humid relentlessness characteristic to Wave this time of year. The ground beneath him was soft with abuse. Wisps of Uzumaki chakra hung thick in the air, even hours later.

It was distracting.

Exhaustion had only begun to set further in as the day dragged on. Though auntie's letter (and included seals) had granted him something of a second wind, he did not stay buoyed by the encouragement for long. He hadn't realized it until he was seated before his Papa in the same place he'd failed over and over and over again, but Kaisei… Kaisei still had no idea how to fix himself. He still didn't know what was wrong. Auntie's cousin had said that it was a spiritual block, but he wasn't sure what that meant. She hadn't explained, and he was wary of mentioning anything to his Papa. He hadn't forgotten his or Ishikawa-sensei's earlier disapproval. He was sure it would only make things worse again.

The feeling of Papa's chakra in the air grated at him. Skin itchy and too-tight, hot in patches around his spine and heart, it felt like someone had taken Mama's spices and rubbed them all over his body. He had no idea how he was supposed to focus on lessons. Thoughts of seals and shinobi and the lands beyond Wave's waters were turning around in his head quickly enough to make him nauseous. Listening was impossible. Meditating was going to be impossible! He didn't know what he'd do if he failed again, if all he got out of today was seals from auntie and more waking up in the middle of the night, screaming at his aching head and something he couldn't remember. He was so distracted, he'd failed to notice his Papa's thin-lipped frown until it was too late.

"Kaisei," Yukine said, making the younger jolt with surprise. "Are you paying attention? This stuff is important, ya know."

"I was listenin'," was the weak protest. "Just, um… could y'repeat it?" Yukine sighed. Unmistakable guilt churned in Kaisei's gut. "'M sorry. The air's all itchy an' it's hard to think."

The elder's gaze sharpened at the words, relaxed stance becoming more alert. "Itchy?"

Kaisei nodded. Clarity bloomed in his Papa's eyes when he replied, "It's like Papa's chakra's still poking at mine."

"Dense Yin chakra," the elder muttered. "Dense Yin chakra, in an Uzumaki. Of course."

"... Papa?"

"Okay," Yukine said, louder this time. "Okay, little sea. We're going to do something different. A different lesson. You have to listen very carefully, though. To everything. Alright? It's very important. You'd normally be too young for this lesson, but, well. Needs must, ya know."

"Okay," Kaisei agreed. Anything to move them forward, at this point. To have his own chakra in his hands, and maybe chase off the bad feelings still lingering in his gut.

"Alright, then. Let's start off with a question. Do you know why our chakra is so special?" There was a vague noise of response he took to mean no. "It's because it has vitality. It's something like… like life, in the body. Longevity. A few members of our clan could even heal others without a jutsu. That makes our bodies strong. And when the body is strong, you build up strong Yang chakra. It's what most of us are known for outside of seals, ya know— it's how we can make our Chakra Weapons physical. Breathing life into form. Our Yin chakra is a lot weaker by comparison, even if it's still balanced."

"But my Yin's dense," he responded, quiet. Careful not to mention what auntie and her cousin had said.

Yukine gave him a quick smile. "Yes, it is. Which means we've been doing this wrong. I should have changed the way we did this the second you started getting migraines. But lessons, first."

So Yukine went on to explain more about their chakra. About the Uzumaki, in general: where they came from, what makes them different. Kaisei had always known that they were special. Their clan line was long and unbroken, even if it branched out all over the place, and they took a certain amount of pride in that. Papa loved them. Loved Whirlpool. He talked about them enough that their being special was never in doubt, but Kaisei hadn't realized there was any sort of reason. Not like this, at least.

An Uzumaki's chakra could fill a river, and the clan, an ocean. This was something drilled into him from the very beginning. It could be dangerous, Papa and even Mama had said, to have so much of it. There were steps you had to take. Routines you had to fall into. Handling their vitality went along with this, and they'd been trying, with Kaisei, but it just wasn't working. Too curious, too easily distracted and overly focused in turn. He was all over the place. All of the time.

"It makes sense why, now," Yukine said, "because of course that's what's happening. Yang chakra, vitality— if it's making you itchy, lingering in the air like this, no wonder you can't reach for it right. You've got too much other stuff in the way, and the two don't like each other. The mind doesn't like what the body is doing. Go ahead and get started on your breathing, with me."

Kaisei settled himself back into a meditative pose, his stomach a knot. Was this it? Were they going to try again? He inhaled deeply, counting down as he always did. Papa breathed with him. It was a long time before either spoke.

"I want you to think of your chakra," the elder finally said. The clearing was silent save for his chime-like voice carrying through the air. "Don't reach for it, but think of it. We've been picturing it as part of your body, until now. I want you to picture it as part of your spirit. Your chakra is part of you, Kaisei. Everything that makes you yourself. Your mind, spirit, and body. It's like life. Find it. Do you feel it?"

A spiritual block, auntie had said, and he thought of everything Papa had told him today, about Yin and Yang, spirit and vitality. Kaisei's own Yin was too deep. Too dense. It was odd for anyone his age to have that issue, already, but it was rarer for an Uzumaki. His chakra burbled with vitality, but was bogged down with too much spirit to come forward. His hands came up to form a ram seal in his lap just as Papa's form flickered with light.

"Guide it out, up towards your arms, down to your hands. Gently. It's part of you, after all."

A spiritual block, he thought, as he reached for that bright-cool core again. Papa's chakra swelled alongside his own, cresting like a wave. It didn't itch that way. Something brushed against his not-hand. Pressure built, in the air, in his chest. He felt it. It was right there. He'd touched it so many times, now, but it never wanted to move.

A spiritual block, he thought again. Dense Yin. Spiritual block. Spirit—

His chakra pulled back, the amber light that had built in his hands dimming, but Kaisei was determined. He knew what was wrong, now. He could do this.

A spiritual block, dense Yin—

He kept reaching. And reaching. And reaching—

There, he thought with delight, seizing something cold enough to burn—

"Kaisei—?!"

It was like exploding. It was like having his soul ripped apart, piece by careful piece.

His head was throbbing and full of pressure like when he meditated during training, screaming with pain as harsh and overwhelming as the ache coming from his chest, which usually never hurt, ever, because Ishikawa-sensei taught him to take care of his heart, and he almost always listened to Ishikawa-sensei. But it hurt really, really bad now, like it was stabbed through with metal and glass all over again, stuttering with effort in a useless bid to stay alive despite the blood seeping from his nose and dripping onto his brown training shirt.

There was this weird feeling in his hands, like the ends of his fingers were about to pop off. They were just too full, and they were starting to go numb from the blood loss from the chakra buildup.

Papa had always taken care to repeat this particular lesson, because the Uzumaki were such an interesting clan with more chakra than even lesser jinchūriki, so it was important that they regulate it right once it was unlocked. The same stuffy, numb feeling was making its way into his arms and parts of his legs, and it was starting to hurt almost as bad as his chest, torn open collar to hip and seeping death all over the concrete beneath his back.

He couldn't see very well, because his head and eyes were still aching and dotting his vision with black spots, but he thought he saw a red shape approaching him that might have been his Papa who he never knew, never loved, never had a single kind thought for but that was wrong because he saw his Papa every day and loved him as much as his mother who was warm like the sun and wild like the sea that he was named after his great-grandfather Elias who lived in Whirlpool with his auntie Kushina, until she left to become the Kyūbi jinchūriki and the village was destroyed by Kiri and Kurama when she gave birth to Nobody because auntie Kushina didn't have any kids, because she was still trying to get married to the Fourth Hokage who was a sissy and a pushover, but really strong because anybody who auntie Kushina likes has to be at least as strong as she is when she's using her chains to restrain Kurama but he went for Naruto and she jumped in front of the claw—

Except auntie Kushina was fine, he got a letter from her just today, she died on October 10th with a smile on her face and her pride as a mother in tact but auntie Kushina didn't have any kids, if she did Kaisei would know because they'd be his little brother, five years old and sitting across from him at the breakfast table while he complained to his mother about his graduation robes, but he didn't have any siblings either, and he was only five years left of college not twenty-three and living alone, his brother barely ten with their ailing mother as his caretaker and his Mama did cough a lot but she wasn't dying inch by inch like he was right now, bleeding out leaking chakra everywhere with no way to stop it—

His chest throbbed and his head hurt and he could feel something inside of him torn apart like paper in a shredder, something he knew needed him to stay still and silent as death but he screamed anyway because the pain was so unbearable he could hardly remember his name, which was silly, because he was—

He was—

He was—

A final pulse of built up chakra, and he was unconscious.

Kaisei's name is written 海世; Kai 海 meaning "ocean, sea," and Sei 世 meaning "world." It can also be pronounced Kaiyō, which is what I'd originally intended to use. This is where the nickname "little sea" comes from.

Additionally, the "ya know" at the end of Kaisei and Yukine's sentences is, indeed, a variation of Naruto and Kushina's "datteba[yo/ne]". Kaisei's is intended to be "dattebazo," with "zo" being a sentence ending particle (like yo and ne), in this case one that signifies the assertion of an opinion. It's more commonly used by men, and is considered very masculine in nature. Yukine ends his with "dattebana," with "na" being similar to "ne" in function (a less harsh assertion of opinion than zo, or confirmation of fact e.g. "isn't it?" "right?" etc), but a bit more casual. Neither will ever be written out this way (nor will Naruto and Kushina's) but I felt that it was an important detail.