The only sound was my own ragged breathing. I stood there, my fist still extended, trembling. I had done it. I had followed the order. I had beaten my only friend into unconsciousness. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I felt my own legs start to give way.
"Adequate."
Shin's voice was as flat and lifeless as ever. I looked over at him, my vision blurry with tears I refused to let fall. He walked over, not to me, but to Judai's still form. He nudged him with the toe of his boot, like he was checking to see if a piece of meat was cooked.
"He has spirit," Shin commented to no one in particular. "But he is reckless. His foundation is poor. He relies too much on his large chakra reserves and stamina. But not enough on refined skill. You, on the other hand," he said, finally turning his dead eyes to me, "have potential. Your instincts are sharp. You adapt. You are a survivor."
He wasn't praising me. He was dissecting me, analyzing me like a weapon he was considering adding to his arsenal.
Two more figures emerged from the shadows. They wore the same blank masks as the ANBU who had taken Judai, the same gray, soulless uniforms. They lifted Judai's limp body off the floor without a word and began carrying him away.
"Wait! Where are you taking him?" I cried out, stumbling forward.
"To the medics," Shin said calmly. "A broken tool is of no use to us. He will be repaired. Then, his re-education will begin."
My blood ran cold. "Re-education?"
"He has too much individuality," Shin stated, as if discussing a minor flaw in a piece of equipment. "Too much sentiment. It makes him unreliable. We will correct that. We will strip away the useless parts and forge him into a proper tool for Konoha."
The horror of his words washed over me. They weren't just going to train him. They were going to erase him. They were going to hollow him out and replace everything that made him Judai with the cold, empty obedience I saw in Shin's eyes.
And I had helped them. My victory in the spar was the proof they needed that he was "flawed."
As the masked agents disappeared into the darkness with Judai, Shin turned back to me.
"Your own training will now begin," he said. "You have shown that you can obey, even when it is difficult. You have shown that you will prioritize the mission—your own survival and his—over personal feelings. This is a good start."
He gestured for me to follow him, and like an obedient dog, I did. He led me away from the training area, down another series of dark corridors, my mind a numb, roaring void. Every step was a betrayal. Every breath felt like poison.
He stopped in front of a different door, this one made of heavy, reinforced steel. He opened it, revealing a small room. It wasn't a cell. It was a workshop. The walls were lined with spools of wire, boxes of senbon needles, and anatomical charts detailing every pressure point and nerve cluster in the human body.
"Your Kekkei Genkai has awakened," Shin said, his voice holding the slightest hint of something that might have been interest. "A primitive form of the Thread Manipulation of the Komacine clan. You will learn to control it. You will learn to use it not just to bind and paralyze, but to kill. You will learn to turn your threads into weapons finer than any scalpel."
He pointed to a dummy in the center of the room, a life-sized figure made of packed straw and covered in worn fabric.
"Your task is simple," he said. "Sever the spinal column at the third cervical vertebra using only your chakra threads. You will not eat, you will not sleep, you will not leave this room until you succeed."
He turned to leave, but I finally found my voice.
"Why?" I asked, my voice raw. "Why are you doing this to us?"
He paused at the door, his back to me. For a long moment, I didn't think he would answer.
"Because Konoha is on the verge of war," he said, his voice as cold and final as a tombstone. "And in war, there is no room for sentiment. There is only room for weapons. We are forging you into the weapons the village will need to survive. Whether you want to be or not."
The heavy steel door slammed shut, plunging the room into near darkness, save for a single, dim bulb overhead. I was alone. Alone with a straw dummy and the sickening realization that I hadn't saved Judai at all. I had only condemned us both to a deeper, darker hell.
(1st Person - Machi's POV)
The steel door thudded shut, the sound echoing the final closing of a tomb. I was alone in the dim, stale air of the workshop, the straw dummy staring at me with its blank, stitched-on eyes. Shin's words--"You will not eat, you will not sleep..."—hung in the silence, a promise and a threat.
I sank to the floor, my back sliding down the cold stone wall, ignoring the dummy. My mind wouldn't focus on the task. It was spinning, replaying the last few months, the last few years, re-evaluating every memory I had of him. Of Judai.
He was my best friend. My only friend. In the Academy, he was my anchor, my sun. His loud, stupid jokes, his ridiculous grin, his unshakable, idiotic confidence... it was a gravitational force I couldn't escape. His smile always made me feel like things would be alright, that no matter how much the other kids whispered about my family being outsiders, I was safe. I was naturally drawn to his light, content to orbit him, to be the one who punched him when he was being a baka, to be the one who followed his lead.
I was never on the front line. I didn't want to be. I was happiest in the trees, setting traps, using my chakra threads to trip up our sparring partners, creating an opening so Judai could swoop in with a flashy finish. Someone else—another teammate, a distraction—would be the fighter. Judai, with his clever plans, would be the tactician. And I... I was support.
But now, in the suffocating silence of this Root dungeon, that comfortable reality was shattering. I was forced to face the truth. A raw, ugly truth that had been hiding in plain sight all along.
Judai is weak.
The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow, knocking the wind from my lungs. It felt like a betrayal just to think it, but it was true. He had two things on his side: decent planning and a ridiculous amount of chakra. That's it. His actual combat skills were... pathetic. He knew a couple of basic fire jutsu, enough to look impressive to academy students, but not enough to be a real threat. If he had more, if he had a wider arsenal, his strategies might have worked. He could have overwhelmed our opponents, controlled the battlefield.
But we never had that. And because of that, we failed. Over and over.
The bell test against Minato-sensei... it was my fault as much as Kakashi's. I was in the trees, in my comfortable, natural position, helping Judai from a distance. I let him take the lead, waiting for him to create the grand finale. But I was the one with the better taijutsu. I was the one who could have closed the distance. I could have been the one to go for the bells, to create a real opening while Judai's fireball provided the cover. I could have broken a few of Minato's bones, maybe. I could have wrapped him in my threads myself. All I had to do was focus.
But I didn't. I waited. I followed. Because that's what I always did.
And in that moment, I learned something else about myself, something far more damning than Judai's weakness. For all my curses, for all my abrasive, sharp-tongued bluster... I was naturally submissive. I would complain, I would punch, I would call him a Fart-Muncher, but when it came down to it, I always did what I was told. By instructors, by Judai, by anyone who gave an order with enough conviction. I would much rather follow a plan, even a flawed one, than take the lead and think for myself.
Judai, with his bright, funny personality, was the anchor. He was the sun. But an anchor can't win a fight. A sun can't cut a throat. I was supposed to be the blade at his side, but I had let myself become nothing more than his shadow.
Shin was right. I was a survivor. But I had only survived because I'd let Judai take all the risks, make all the plans, and ultimately, take all the blame.
A cold resolve settled deep in my bones. That was over. If they were going to forge me into a weapon, then I would become the sharpest, deadliest weapon this village had ever seen. I would get strong enough to not need an anchor. I would get strong enough to be my own sun. I would get strong enough to drag Judai out of whatever hell they were putting him through, whether he liked it or not.
I stood up, my body aching but my mind clear for the first time in months. I walked to the center of the room and faced the straw dummy. I extended my hands, my fingers trembling slightly. I closed my eyes and focused, not on my anger, but on the cold, precise image of the anatomical chart I had seen on the wall. Third cervical vertebra.
I took a deep breath and channeled my chakra, pulling it from the depths of my gut, spinning it into impossibly thin, sharp threads. They extended from my fingertips, glowing faintly in the dim light. I guided them, not with brute force, but with a delicate touch I didn't know I possessed. I felt them wrap around the straw neck of the dummy, tightening, seeking the single, precise point they needed to sever.
SNAP.
The sound was barely audible, but it was the loudest thing I had ever heard. The dummy's head slumped forward, hanging at an unnatural angle, held on only by the outer layer of fabric.
I opened my eyes, panting, my chakra reserves nearly empty. I had done it.
The heavy steel door slid open with a loud groan, breaking the silence. Shin stood there, his face as impassive as ever. He glanced at the slumped head of the dummy, then back at me.
"You have finished your task," he stated, a flicker of something—approval? surprise?—in his dead eyes. "You learn quickly. Good."
He gestured out the door.
"Follow me. Your re-education is not yet complete."