Fanfic based on Naruto (by Masashi Kishimoto) and Bleach (by Tite Kubo). This is a fan-made story with no official affiliation. The content is shared as part of the creative rewards on my Patreon.
Recommendation: Read this chapter slowly to fully enjoy a certain part of it.
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[Third Person POV]
High atop one of the tallest mountains in Kumogakure, where the air was thin and the wind sharp, a small figure moved with precision and consistency.
Morning mist still blanketed the peak, and each breath formed brief clouds in the icy air.
There, under a gray sky and surrounded by deep silence, a girl struck at the empty space again and again, as if trying to punch her way through the world.
Her breathing was rhythmic but strained. Sweat soaked her forehead and slid down her neck, dampening her training clothes.
Despite her young age, she didn't stop.
Every movement she made—every squat, every strike—was charged with pure determination.
She struck the air.
She didn't stop.
She struck the ground, over and over, always in the same spot, repeating like clockwork—like a perpetual motion machine.
Crack!!
On the fortieth strike, the ground gave slightly, lifting a chunk of earth.
Without hesitation, she spun around and kicked upward, launching the piece of dirt into the sky.
Spinning on her axis, she leapt into the air with feline agility, eyes locked onto the flying chunk.
Her pupils tracked it start to finish—analyzing, measuring—until, with surgical precision, she pulled out a senbo (a shinobi needle) and threw it, pinning the chunk mid-air against a stone.
Without losing momentum, she twisted in mid-air, executing an elegant spin while releasing another senbo that floated for a moment—still, as if suspended in time—until she struck it with her heel.
Plap!
The needle flew with grace and precision, hitting the stone embedded in the tree.
Then gravity claimed her, and she dropped fast, landing like a superhero—one knee on the ground, one hand bracing her fall, breath heavy.
Barely rising, she threw three more senbos into the air, each on a different trajectory.
She punched the first one.
Spun and kicked the second.
Caught the third mid-flight with both hands and hurled it hard at the target.
Ezalar!!
Breathing deeply, the girl stopped to watch—she'd hit every target.
Some by just a few centimeters, but they all landed.
That girl was Yoruichi Nagumo—only four and a half years old.
Her body already showed unusual firmness, even by ninja standards.
She'd started mental training almost from infancy.
Physical training began at three—gentle exercises at first, designed to ease her muscles and bones into the routine.
Clap!!... Clap!!...
"Well done, daughter," said Denji, appearing behind her. He patted her head with a proud smile.
Yoruichi stared at him for a moment, then turned her eyes toward the targets she'd nearly missed.
"I still have a long way to go, Father," she said firmly, silently analyzing the mistake she'd made.
Denji didn't take her response well. He sighed, looking at her with concern.
"The effects on her brain are still a problem, huh?"
He sighed again.
Because of her overdeveloped brain, her extreme neuroplasticity demanded constant challenges—she had to be learning new skills all the time. But it also meant she constantly sought new challenges, to the point of obsession.
On top of that, her enhanced myelination only added to it all. It made her more impatient, more prone to frustration when things didn't move fast enough or when progress felt too slow.
And now, the thing affecting her the most:
Advanced Information Processing.
A brilliant gift—with an emotional cost.
She often prioritized logic over empathy, straining her relationships with others.
A perfect trait for a ninja… but a terrible one for a daughter.
Denji sighed once more.
His daughter's brain was a miracle… and a double-edged sword.
At first, she had only shown one edge of that blade. But lately, the other side had started to shine just as brightly.
Especially since Yoruichi had begun pulling away from others.
Thankfully, she was still a sweetheart with the people she cared about—acting like any normal little girl.
But with strangers… she was different. More analytical, more reserved.
She watched them closely, as if she could take them apart with her eyes alone.
That's why the villagers had given her the nickname "Owl."
A nickname Denji hated… but he knew he couldn't punish the villagers for it.
Or could he?
His thoughts were starting to drift to darker places. But before he could fall any deeper—
"Father… are we going to eat?"
Her voice snapped him out of it.
She was watching him with her head tilted slightly, studying him carefully.
And the moment he saw her, the image of a curious owl flashed in his mind.
He could only smile.
"Yes, my little owl. Daddy made shepherd's pie."
Yoruichi's dull eyes lit up instantly. She jumped onto her father's neck with a smile that shattered any wall of coldness, shouting:
"Run like the wind, bullseye! Food awaits us!"
Denji just laughed, sprinting down the mountain with his daughter in his arms.
Yoruichi looked down at him from above.
Seeing him smile… made her smile too.
"Thank you, Dad. I love you so much."
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In her past life, Yoruichi had been a lonely person.
Not for lack of charisma—quite the opposite. She connected easily with people… but disconnected just as fast.
She had friends, sure. People to laugh with, share moments, do group projects with, play online games.
But never the kind of bond where the soul lays itself bare without fear.
She never had a friendship deep enough to throw loving insults.
She never felt close enough to tell a white friend, "You've got cum-colored skin,"
Or a Black friend, "You're cardboard-colored,"
Or a bold girlfriend, "Even Kurama wasn't as much of a fox as you."
That kind of intimacy where offense turns into affection… it just never happened.
There was always an invisible wall.
A distance no one crossed.
Acquaintances.
Friends.
But never soul siblings.
And when she grew up… she was alone.
Her father had left when she was just a kid. A casual goodbye:
"I'm going out for cigarettes."
He never came back.
Her mother, though—she was her rock. She was there. Until the end.
She worked any job she could find: selling things on trains, cleaning houses, sweeping malls, working construction.
With rough hands. A broken back. But steady eyes.
She never had much time.
But she was always present.
She juggled the impossible to keep them both afloat.
And despite the struggle, they kept going. Thanks to her, Yoruichi got into a good school.
Not just any school: a private one—the kind that opens doors. That's where she went for elementary and high school. That's where she grew up.
Until one day, something snapped.
It all started with a joke.
A classmate dumped chocolate milk on her head.
Ruined her supplies. Her clothes.
Things her mother had scraped together with blood and sweat.
As he laughed, another kid filmed it all.
"Content," they called it…
Yoruichi didn't think. Her mind went blank. Rage swallowed her like a heavy fog.
She grabbed the closest thing: her fountain pen.
Not some plastic Bic—this one had a sharp metal tip.
She lunged. Grabbed the bully's hand, slammed it on the desk.
And without hesitation, stabbed him with the pen.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"
His scream echoed through the classroom.
The phone kept recording.
It was all on video.
The school acted fast. Emergency meeting. Immediate expulsion.
Her mother said nothing. Just clenched her jaw.
She saw the video. She knew her child had overreacted. But she also knew—he hadn't started it.
That night, she held him in silence. And made a decision: she would keep fighting.
She enrolled him in another school.
Yoruichi promised to control himself.
He tried to be calm.
But he couldn't.
Every time someone crossed the line… he reacted.
Always in self-defense.
But the "violent" label had already stuck to his skin.
And then… his mother died.
And everything finally broke.
…
Snapping out of her thoughts, Yoruichi looked back at Denji.
She smiled.
Gently patted his head as she thought:
"I've already lost two mothers in my life… I'm not losing my father in this one."
A silent promise etched itself into her heart.
One she would not break.
Not long after, her eyelids grew heavy. Sleep and exhaustion slowly wrapped around her.
And just before drifting off, one last thought passed through her mind like a whisper:
"I'm sorry… Mom."
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End of Chapter 13
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Oh, a chapter that I feel would be much more impactful later on in the story — but in the end, I decided to leave it here to show the closeness between father and daughter, a bit of Yoruichi's past, and a little more.
In my opinion, even though it's short, it's also phenomenal.
Like my...
The End.