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They had finally arrived.

Within the depths of Sanchō, tucked neatly and securely within the comforts of the grand wooden construct, he would reveal himself.

Soft, near silent footfalls billowed evenly from the shadows, creeks in the wooden flooring as the man made his presence known from darkness, soon moving into the brightest of light. “Welcome,” A mature tone was comforted with ocean blue jewels and cascading waves of indigo. An attire as regal and traditional as any other, the Spector—who aversely invited the two present—would surface.

“Welcome to my home,” His tone was uncompromising, yet liberal; as free flowing as the wind which surrounded the two novices. Nevertheless, his posture and bearings were nothing short of regal perfection. Arms folded over his kimono with two separate envelopes held tightly within his right clasp, the Jōnin didn’t bother with subtle pleasantries. There was too much on the line and far too little time to endorse inactivity and lassitude. Looking out into the horizon—oh how clear was the blue sky and grey clouds—he’d sigh. Such peace wouldn’t be restrained for long; it would collapse under its own false realism and invite annihilation with time.

The wind moved his garbs in a weak dominance, though his deep, almost impassive glare didn’t fade. “My name is Uchiha Haitsuchi, I’ll be your Squadron leader and instructor from this day forward. And before you ask—” He would end all possible confutations about an obvious manner at this point in time.

“Your third teammate won’t be joining us for some time; as a direct result of that, we’ll be acting as a 3-man regiment.”

Sighing, he would continue. Still holding tight to the papers of importance in his grasp.

“So let’s begin with introductions; these papers in my hand tell of your short success as a shinobi, though I don’t say much in regards to your character—enlighten me.”

As close as the boy felt to his red-manned companion, the inflictions of his past continued to drive deeper into his consciousness. This secret ability, this unimaginable power—as the elders voiced to him—wasn’t something he fancied. Many called it a gift, while only he saw such a tool as a curse. Forever threaded to fate by the very biology which incongruously colored his hair and structured his face, there was no escaping a future filed with pain. A future where he would be seen as a conqueror as opposed to a savior.

I can’t, Senpai, it was unbearable. Having to think about repudiating the man something he wanted to see- especially when Haitsuchi brought the topic to surface. Minutes would pass and nothing happened, however the young Shinobi made it very clear that while his mouth uttered sweet nothings, that he was in deep contemplation. The manner in which his brows lifted in thought and his eyes narrowed as his lips furrowed. Odd, it took him but a moment of reluctance to instill the thought of revealing his secret to a man—for all intents and purposes—he considered closer than those that watched him age, yet his own conflictions forced his zeal to subside.

Alas, even the most defeated of tigers—if breath still filled its lung—wouldn’t vanish into darkness.

“Just don’t attack me…” As hit done subliminally—thoughts soon existed in the form of words, nonetheless, Haitsuchi wasn’t even aware he even said it. Hints to his past and just a small fragment of the trials he faced because of the demon which existed inside of him, you—Taisho—have gained a new insight to your student. Hopefully a new found appreciation materialized, as well.

Closing his eyes in taking a deep breath, he would soon allow his eyelids to recede. Nevertheless, what once was wasn’t any longer. His eyes, a deep ocean blue soon took upon a more divine, or demonic shade of carmine. Three blades cycling in symmetry danced about in the pools of his irises. It was beyond surreal, but oddly enough, Haitsuchi felt as if you knew more about the strange, but enthralling phenomena that just manifested then he did.

”Senpai… this is it.”