Chapter 3 — The House
Most children would expect sweets, toys, and warm wishes on a day like this.She was waiting for something else — a decision.
The morning began as usual: porridge, a damp cloth on the floor, loud voices in the hallway.But she was already dressed, standing by the door.Back straight. Face calm.No toys. No books. Only purpose in her eyes.
"Where are you going?" one of the caretakers asked, surprised."To the director," she replied simply.
Her voice was steady. Confident.Far too mature for a three-year-old child.
The director's office was upstairs.A wooden door. Paper lanterns. Neatly stacked folders.A knock."Come in."A small figure stepped inside, her gaze unwavering.
"Kiemi, dear? Is something wrong?"
"Today I turned three. I would like to leave the orphanage and move into my family's home."
The director looked tired — and surprised. Then she sighed and gave a faint smile.She had been warned. And she had seen it for herself.This child spoke only when necessary. Listened more than she talked.
"Are you sure?""Yes.""Well then… I have no right to stop you. You… are not like the others."
An hour later, she stood at the orphanage gates.One of the caretakers, Miss Miko, held a small envelope and a set of keys.
"This is the address. This is your key. That's all you need to know for now."
She handed over a thin folder and fell silent.Looking at the girl, Miko couldn't help but wonder — was this really a child?
She didn't cry. She didn't ask questions.She simply listened and nodded.Like an adult.Like a soldier.
"Do you know who your parents were?""No," Kiemi answered honestly."Then listen carefully."
"Your father was Raigatsu Haruki. He died in battle near the southwestern border.""Your mother was Raigatsu Nao. She died giving birth to you."
Kiemi listened quietly.No tears. No reaction.Only a calm:"I understand."
The walk to her new home was short.The wind whispered through narrow alleys.Passersby barely noticed — just another child with an adult.
The house stood at the end of a quiet lane.One floor. A small garden. A weathered door. Curtains drawn tight.
The key turned smoothly.Inside — cool air. The scent of old wood and silence.
The caretaker remained at the door."Will you be alright?""Yes.""If you need anything — you know where to find us."
The door closed.
Kiemi was alone.
Then her footsteps echoed through the empty house.Shelves. Old photographs on the walls.Faint shadows of two people who once lived here — her parents.
The master bedroom — clean, untouched.The child's room — now hers. A small bed. A shelf of books.
She walked to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.Inside lay a wooden box, carved with the crest of her clan.
She opened it.
Inside were several carefully sealed ninja scrolls, a few letters, and an official document confirming access to her savings account.
The scrolls were sealed with personal chakra marks — left behind by her parents.
She didn't yet know what they would teach her.But she could feel it clearly:This was her inheritance.
And it would become part of her path.