Yamanaka Hospitality

SHISUI UCHIHA

Shisui stood in the center of one of the Uchiha training grounds. Eyes closed. Breath steady. Shuriken in hand.

The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the colored leaves overhead. The air was cool, crisp, calm. No outside expectations. No elders watching from the shadows, scrutinizing every move.

Just him, his breath, and the hum of chakra coursing through his body.

Around him, wooden posts stood, each one scarred with countless marks—scuffs, dents, and slashes that converged toward the bullseye at the center.

Three hours had passed since Shisui started, but it didn't feel like it. The repetition, the rhythm, it was all automatic now. A blur of movement, of muscle memory.

This was Uchiha Shurikenjutsu. Precision. Speed. Mastery. Not for show, but for battle. For the inevitable war Shisui would be a part of, if it didn't end soon—if.

Chakra pulsed at the soles of his feet, and he leaped, propelling himself upwards toward the thick branches of the surrounding trees. Higher. Higher until—

Now.

His eyes remained closed, his body spinning in midair. He didn't need them for this.

Not anymore.

Not after hours, days—years of practice.

The first shuriken left his hand, angling forty degrees to the right. The second, thirty-two degrees to the left.

Another followed, and another.

They flew in quick succession, slicing through the air with a soft whip-whip-whip, his body turning like a wheel.

It was instinctive now. The way his muscles contracted, the angle of his wrist, the timing of each release. Like a weapon. The elders had spent enough time sharpening him into one.

The satisfying thunk of steel meeting wood sounded around him. Then, the sharper ping of shuriken colliding with one another, altering their paths midair. Adjustments. Corrections. Perfection.

Still airborne, Shisui continued spinning.

Only a moment had passed. Just a breath. But that's how fast things happened on the field—in a moment.

He was young. Short. Lacking in strength and the battlefield experience of the older shinobi.

He was well informed of that.

He had to be faster. Faster than anyone else. Fast enough to recover from mistakes before they got him killed. Fast enough to make split-second decisions before the enemy could. Fast enough to survive.

Fast enough to thrive.

With the final shuriken thrown, his right foot touched down lightly on the forest floor.

His eyes opened as the last thud echoed through the training ground.

He didn't need to look. He didn't have to check the targets. He already knew the result.

Every throw was perfect.

They always were.

###

The Yamanaka compound felt different than the Uchiha's. Lighter. Airier. Warmer.

As Shisui walked up to the gates, his eyes traced the tall stone walls that surrounded the compound.

Unlike the Uchiha's fortress-like enclosure—imposing, dark, built to keep everything and everyone out—the Yamanaka's felt… open. The air here wasn't suffocating or heavy with the weight of old traditions.

It felt free.

The guards at the entrance were a perfect example: one lazily leaning against the wall with a senbon hanging out of his mouth, the other leafing through a book, clearly indifferent to the world around him.

If these were Uchiha guards, that posture would've gotten them a week's worth of night shifts. Minimum.

As Shisui approached, their eyes briefly flicked to the Uchiha crest on his chest, then back to his.

"Hello," he greeted them with a slight bow, keeping his tone respectful. "My name is Shisui Uchiha. I'm here to visit Satoshi Yamanaka. He said you'd be expecting me?"

One of the guards glanced at his partner, raising an eyebrow. Then he looked back at Shisui. "You're just like he said."

That made Shisui pause. Like who said? Satoshi?

The other guard sighed, closing his book. "Disregard him. Follow the path until it splits into three. Keep going straight, and when you see the river, hang a right. That'll take you to his house."

Shisui nodded and bowed again. "Thank you, Yamanaka-san." Then he started down the path.

Why had he come here for dinner? That was the real question. And honestly, he wasn't entirely sure. Part of him wanted to learn that genjutsu Satoshi had used on him.

That was certain.

But there was something else about Satoshi that intrigued Shisui. Something beneath the surface that he couldn't quite place. Was Satoshi like him? Under the same pressure?

And if Shisui was being really honest… he was curious about Satoshi's cooking. Satoshi claimed to be good, and Shisui wanted to see if he could live up to it. Not that he cared too much. But, well… he was a bit of a foodie.

Okay, maybe it was a little immature, but a small part of Shisui found the idea of Satoshi's food not being good satisfying. One thing Shisui would be better at than him. He'd never felt competitive with anyone before. Was this what it felt like?

Shisui shook his head to clear his thoughts.

As he walked deeper into the compound, he couldn't help but notice how different it was from the Uchiha grounds.

Blond children ran through the streets, laughing, playing, smiling, as if they weren't currently in a war.

It wasn't that Uchiha children didn't laugh or play—it was just… rarer.

Most of them were taught restraint from an early age, to hold back their emotions unless they were around those they trusted. But here, it was like that restraint didn't exist.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted toward Shisui as he passed a bakery where old women carried baskets of pastries. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until that moment.

And then, there was another scent. Something sweeter. Maybe… flowers? This compound felt alive, vibrant, in a way that the Uchiha compound never did.

A strange feeling tightened in his chest as he turned right and finally saw Satoshi's house at the end of the path.

It was beautiful, big too—two stories, a large garden, the river pulling softly toward the back of the house.

The architecture was traditional, with wood panels and sliding doors, a stone path leading to the gate, which framed the entire property. It looked peaceful, like a sanctuary.

Then Shisui saw an elderly man—no, more like a bear of a man—lifting something that looked like a massive wooden box, probably heavier than anything Shisui had ever lifted in his life.

"Satoshi, your package arrived! Where do you want it?" the man bellowed.

Before Shisui could take another step, a cool voice slithered into his ear. "So you're the Uchiha boy Satoshi's told us about."

Shisui jumped back and instinctively snapped his hand into a fist, ready to defend himself.

Whipping around, he found himself staring into a pair of narrow, snake-like eyes behind thin glasses. The man was wiry, and his gaze locked onto Shisui's like a… predator—assessing prey.

"Oh, did I scare you, boy?" the man said with a smile. "Looks like you need to work on your spatial awareness." He smirked and turned, basically slithering away into the house.

Shisui's heart was still pounding in his chest when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He stiffened, but this time he didn't jump.

He turned to find another Yamanaka standing behind him—a mountain of a man with muscles that looked like they belonged to someone whose job was to work out 24/7—scars crisscrossing his exposed arms.

One scar, in particular, ran from his temple down to his jaw. His eyes—deep, intense—were the kind of eyes Shisui had seen before. Eyes like his clan's elders. Eyes that had seen... a lot.

"He's right," the man said, his voice low, a rumble. "Your spatial awareness needs some work. You should come practice with Satoshi tomorrow. We'll be working on that."

Shisui swallowed. Is everyone here so… unique?

The man gestured toward the house. "Let's go in, kid. Everyone's already here."

Shisui hesitated. Everyone? This is a gathering? But all he said was, "Yes, Yamanaka-san."

"Just, Daiki, kid."

Shisui followed Daiki inside, still feeling a little off-balance.

As soon as Shisui stepped inside the house, the first thing that hit him wasn't the sight of it, but the smell.

It was like being wrapped in a blanket but made of food. His mouth watered instantly.

Shisui wasn't even sure what it was—something savory, something rich—but it had this way of filling the air like he'd walked into a different world. If this was Satoshi's cooking… Shisui might… he didn't even want to admit it.

The scent was overwhelming in the best possible way. Shisui's stomach growled involuntarily, loudly, as if he hadn't had anything to eat in a year.

He might have been standing there, slack-jawed like a fool, if not for a heavy pat on his shoulder.

"Careful," said Daiki. "Don't let the smell knock you out before you even taste it."

Shisui blinked and cleared his throat, embarrassed that he'd been so obvious. "I'm fine," he said, though his stomach disagreed, letting out a grumble.

Daiki chuckled. "Don't worry. Happens to everyone the first time." He gave Shisui another pat, one that nearly knocked the wind out of him, before gesturing ahead. "Come on, kid."

They started down a long hallway, and Shisui took in the house as they walked. It was beautiful—traditional, yes, but warm. Inviting. What a home should feel like.

Polished wooden floors, rice paper doors, and soft light filtering in from the windows. There were small, decorative touches everywhere: a vase of freshly cut flowers here, a calligraphy scroll there.

Everything had a place, but it wasn't rigid. It was the kind of home where you didn't have to worry about stepping out of line.

It felt… lived in.

As they passed through another room, Shisui's eyes caught on a painting hanging on the wall. He stopped instantly.

The painting was of a woman, and without exaggeration, it was the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen.

The woman sat in front of a garden, holding a teacup in one hand; her long golden hair was flowing mid-breeze. The painting felt alive. Her smile, her eyes. It felt real. Alive.

"Beautiful painting, right?" came a voice in front of Shisui. He looked up to meet Daiki's gaze.

Shisui nodded and simply said, "It is."

After a beat, Shisui tore his eyes away from the painting and followed Daiki into the dining room.

When he entered, Shisui was met with the same group of elders from the Academy. They sat around the low table, chatting, but as soon as he walked in, they all went silent. The air in the room shifted.

Their eyes were on him—heavy, assessing, just like how Elder Shinji's eyes felt on him.

There were also two new faces.

One was the woman from the painting. She sat at the head of the table. Next to her, a young boy—looked a bit younger than Shisui—clutching a stuffed animal tight to his chest.

Shisui quickly bowed. "Good evening, Yamanaka-samas. I'm Shisui Uchiha. Thank you for having me."

No one responded. They just… stared.

The pressure in the room mounted. Shisui could feel a bead of sweat forming on the back of his neck… Um… what's going on?

Then he heard Satoshi's voice in his head.

[Don't worry about them. They just like messing with people.]

Shisui about jumped. He'd never get used to that.

[Alright, everyone,] Satoshi's voice was still in his head. Shisui could somehow feel the slight annoyance in Satoshi's tone. [You can stop. Please don't scare away my guest.]

After a beat, the bear-looking man chuckled and welcomed Shisui to the room, introducing the others. They held an aura of superiority like the Uchiha elders did, but Shisui could feel the warmth from them—some of them.

It was different. Refreshing.

Satoshi appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Dinner's almost done," he said. "But while we wait, Shisui—how about I go ahead and show you how it works."

Elder Nao raised an eyebrow. "You're teaching him something?"

"False Present," Satoshi said.

Nao looked at Satoshi, then at Shisui, and then, after a beat, gave a slow nod. Shisui guessed that was his sign of approval because Satoshi hung the towel over his shoulder, turned to Shisui, and motioned toward the back door. "Let's go."

Shisui followed Satoshi outside, stepping into a quiet courtyard.

"So," Satoshi began, standing a few paces away, his arms crossed, "False Present is a passive genjutsu. It's not like the typical sensory illusions most shinobi are used to. The key difference is that it doesn't overwhelm all five senses at once. Instead, it only subtly alters the perception of time and sequence."

"Time and sequence?" Shisui asked. Satoshi got right to it. No lead-up.

Satoshi nodded. "You manipulate what someone believes has happened. It's about making them think one thing happened when something else did. Like they're still in the present moment when, in reality, you've already moved ahead. Think of it like altering their perception, just a second. A glitch in their awareness."

Glitch? Shisui crossed his arms. "And how do you cast it without hand seals?"

Satoshi smiled. "It's seal-less. You only need a pulse of chakra, either through sound or physical touch, to plant the genjutsu. Touch is the easiest. The tricky part is setting the trigger."

Shisui raised a brow. "What do you mean by trigger?"

Satoshi stepped forward and raised his hand, gesturing for Shisui to watch.

"In the Academy test, when I raised my hand, that was the trigger I set. I used a pulse of chakra when I patted your shoulder before the fight. That planted the genjutsu, but it remained dormant until I activated it with the hand raise. When the trigger activates, the target's mind plays a false version of the event."

He let his hand drop. "Simple, but effective."

Simple…? Oh, and before the test?

"So you cheated?"

"We're training to be shinobi, Shisui," Satoshi said, matter of fact. "I was just... teaching you to always be on your toes." Shisui spotted a slight twitch at the corner of Satoshi's mouth.

Shisui's brows knitted together, but he refrained from beating a dead horse.

Even if Satoshi was a cheater, he was somewhat right. Shinobi always had to be ready—the elders had repeated that more than enough times that it was ingrained in Shisui's bones—or, he thought it was.

"I've never heard of a genjutsu like this before." Planting a genjutsu to activate with a trigger… was much more difficult than Satoshi made it seem.

"That's understandable. I created it."

Shisui froze. "You… created it?"

Satoshi nodded again as if it was the most casual thing in the world. "It still requires some re-working, but so far, it's proven useful. Go ahead and try it."

Just like that? "… Oookay. Show me how."

Satoshi stepped closer. "For this genjutsu, chakra control is everything. Use too little, and it won't take hold. Too much, and the target will sense it immediately. Genjutsu is about finesse, not force."

He held out his hand, tapping his fingertips lightly against his palm.

"Focus your yin chakra here. Picture exactly what you want me to see—every detail, every movement. The more vivid the image in your mind, the more real it'll feel to me. And make sure you have a clear intention for when you want it to happen."

Shisui nodded as he focused on gathering chakra into his fingertips.

Satoshi continued, "Once you have a clear mental image, you need a trigger. A trigger is what activates the illusion, so it has to be something subtle—a snap, a shift in your stance, a gesture you can do naturally. It needs to be easy enough for you to use, but distinct enough that you can rely on it."

Shisui took a breath, visualizing the effect he wanted to create. He imagined Satoshi flinching back, as if Shisui had thrown a punch that wasn't actually there. His trigger would be a simple hand raise, the same as what Satoshi had done during the test.

"Okay," Satoshi said as he watched Shisui. "Now, try it. Activate your trigger."

Shisui raised his hand, intending to activate it, but… nothing happened.

Satoshi remained perfectly still. He just stood there with a smile.

Frowning, Shisui tried again, focusing on activating the illusion.

Still… nothing.

"It'll take time to get it right," Satoshi said. "Genjutsu is about precision. I don't expect you to master it on the first try."

Shisui's eyebrow twitched. Satoshi's tone was calm, but it was how he said it—something about his words rubbed Shisui the wrong way.

"I'll get it," Shisui muttered, more to himself than to Satoshi.

Satoshi shrugged, entirely unbothered. "Of course you will." He turned, gesturing toward the house. "Dinner's ready. We can try again after we eat."

And with that, Satoshi strolled back toward the house, leaving Shisui standing there, staring down at his hand and wondering exactly where he had messed up.

Satoshi had made it sound so simple, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Send yin chakra, set a trigger. That's all? Just visualize, set the intention, and it would work?

Shisui's fingers flexed involuntarily as he replayed Satoshi's instructions in his mind.

He took a breath to calm his thoughts. He could figure it out later.

For now, though… food.

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