After a few hours, Ryuma's father returned. He was an honest-looking man dressed in a simple, mid stained kimono, his appearance that of a humble farmer who had just finished a long day of labor in the fields. His name was Raito Hatake.
The moment Raito stepped through the threshold and caught sight of Kazumi's pale, distraught face, his expression hardened with concern. "What happened? Is everything all right?"
Kazumi didn't hold back. Her voice trembling, she told Raito everything—how Ryuma had tried to take his own life, and how, if Kakashi hadn't intervened just in time, their son would have died.
Listening to her words, a wave of panic washed over Raito. He hurried straight to Ryuma's room and knelt beside the bed. Seeing the boy breathing steadily, merely asleep and unconscious, the immense weight in his chest loosened. He let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.
His shoulders slumped as he looked down at his son. "I have tried to explain to him so many times that being a ninja requires aptitude," he spoke softly, the fatigue evident in his voice. "People who lack the talent simply cannot become ninjas. People like us aren't meant for that path. If hard work alone was all it took, wouldn't the village be filled with ninjas? But he just refuses to understand."
A deep sadness settled over his features, though it quickly gave way to a stern, rigid expression laced with a flicker of anger.
"Enough of enabling his stubbornness," Raito continued, his voice firming up. "I will not let him attend the Ninja Academy or pursue any of this nonsense anymore. It only brings him unnecessary suffering. I am going to teach him to be a good, honest farmer like me. As soon as he recovers, I'll take him out to the fields and teach him how to farm."
Despite the harshness in his tone and the stern set of his jaw, his words were born purely out of deep concern for Ryuma. It was natural—Ryuma was their only child, and an only son was always cherished deeply by his parents.
Softening slightly, as if making a quiet concession with himself, Raito added, "If he still craves strength, I will let him learn swordsmanship instead. Yes... swordsmanship. Our Hatake clan's ancestry traces back to the samurai, after all. There are still a few clan members running local dojos where they teach the blade. At the very least, I can afford to help him become a fine samurai if that is what he truly wants. After all, his obsession with becoming a ninja stems from a single desire: to become stronger."
Hearing Raito's words, Kazumi stepped closer to his side, her eyes brightening with a sudden flicker of relief. She nodded in complete agreement, the heavy tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
"Yes, you are absolutely right," she said, her tone filled with quiet conviction. "While he learns farming alongside you, he can take up swordsmanship as well. There is no need for him to obsess over becoming a ninja. Once he calms down, he will definitely understand."
Yet beneath their confident words, a silent dread lingered in both of their hearts. Deep down, they knew Ryuma would almost certainly resist. They had tried to reason with him multiple times in the past, only for his burning ambition to brush their worries aside. He had always remained stubborn, refusing to let go of his dream.
This time, however, they were determined to be just as unyielding.
They had firmly resolved that they would not allow Ryuma to walk a path that was clearly not meant for him—a brutal road that brought him nothing but pain and self-torment. The terrifying sight of what had transpired today had shattered their resolve to compromise. If Ryuma ever attempted something so drastic again, and if someone like Kakashi wasn't nearby to intervene, they would lose their only child forever. They simply could not afford to back down now.
About an hour passed after Raito's return, the house bathed in a quiet, tense silence, until finally, Ryuma's eyelashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes.
…
I opened my eyes to the dim light of the room. Sitting right beside my bed was a gentle woman in her early thirties, her face etched with exhaustion. The moment my gaze fell upon her, a name welled up from deep within this body's residual memories, escaping my lips before I could think:
"Mother."
She was Kazumi—my mother now, ever since my soul had transmigrated into the body of Ryuma. Hearing my voice, the heavy tension on her features softened, replaced by a faint, tearful smile and a profound look of relief. She reached over to the bedside table and carefully extended a small wooden bowl toward me.
"Here, drink this soup," she whispered softly. "It will help you regain your strength."
I took the bowl with slightly unsteady hands and began to drink. The liquid was warm, soothing my parched throat and bringing a comforting heat to my aching chest. Just as I finished the last sip, the quiet rustle of light footsteps sounded outside the doorway, and a man stepped into the room. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, his sun-browned face lined with rugged fatigue.
Looking at him, the same natural instinct took over. "Father."
Raito didn't answer right away. He crossed the room silently and sat down beside my mother, his expression grave and unyielding. His dark eyes locked onto mine with an overwhelming seriousness as he spoke.
"I heard from your mother that you tried to take your own life today. Is this true?"
The question hit me like a physical blow, leaving me instantly stumped and completely at a loss for words. What was I even supposed to say? The real Ryuma hadn't just tried to take his own life—he had actually succeeded. Their true son was already gone, and the entity occupying this flesh was a soul from another world.
The original Ryuma had been driven to utter despair after his academy teacher ruthlessly crushed his dreams, telling him he lacked even a shred of ninja aptitude and that the academy could no longer waste resources on him. The final, brutal blow of being expelled had broken him completely.
My new father was asking for a truth that was far more complicated than he could ever imagine. The literal answer was yes, but I couldn't possibly explain the reality of the situation.
It's better if I just stay quiet...
Choosing the safest path forward, I lowered my head, staring down at the empty wooden bowl in my hands, unable to meet the piercing eyes of either my father or my mother.
----
To read advanced chapters up to 24 chapters ahead, please consider supporting me on Patreon: [https://patreon.com/Hkj822]