My Kekkei Genkai Is Kinda Weird?!

Rin had known from the very beginning—ever since the Third Hokage approached her with the offer of personal training—that she must have caught his attention for some specific reason. A six-year-old, no matter how talented, wouldn't typically draw the direct involvement of a village leader. So there had to be something else at play.

Whatever it was, Rin understood one thing clearly: her true test had begun.

The moment she saw Kakashi at Training Ground Three, her instincts went on high alert. She knew better than most how White Fang had met his end. Aside from the culprit, no one understood it more intimately. Konoha wasn't as simple as it looked on the surface.

After careful thought, she made a decision—to construct a persona. A version of herself that aligned with the Third Hokage's ideals, one he would be compelled to protect.

And when she learned that this body carried the blood of the Senju clan, her heart was a whirlwind of shock and delight—though laced with rising anxiety about her situation.

"Post-kill trauma? Hah…" A faint smirk tugged at Rin's lips beneath the shelter of her blanket.

The first time she had killed someone, she had indeed been rattled—by the sight of blood, by the finality of death. The blade slicing through flesh, the warm spray of blood—it had triggered physical discomfort. But moral guilt? Such luxuries only hastened death in this world.

So she had carefully staged her remorse: overwhelming guilt, silent tears, even self-inflicted injuries on missions. It was all part of a meticulously crafted act.

What kind of child did the Third Hokage favor? A gifted child who still held reverence for life—someone who could be molded by the "Will of Fire." A blank canvas.

"Senju bloodline awakening…" Rin absentmindedly traced her fingers over the bandages on her arm—covering wounds she had purposefully created.

Everything the Hokage had told her had genuinely shocked her, and yes, a flicker of guilt had stirred within. But mostly… it was joy.

Everyone knew that Naruto might as well have been subtitled Legend of the Five Great Clans and their Crazy Eyes. The ninja world revolved around bloodlines—all stemming from that woman from the Ōtsutsuki Clan. If one wanted to stand at the top, having that bloodline was essential.

And so, as a "six-year-old," Rin displayed the perfect mixture of awe, collapse, and sorrow—exactly the reaction the Hokage had been expecting.

Outside the blanket, she heard the old woman tiptoeing to check if she was asleep. Rin immediately adjusted her breathing, mimicking the rhythm of slumber. Only once the footsteps retreated did she reopen her eyes.

"Misaki…" The name rolled across her tongue, carrying a whisper of complexity. The woman who had sacrificed her life for her did stir a trace of guilt—but just that, a trace.

Rin clearly remembered how the Senju clan had faded into obscurity in the original story. Despite being the clan of the First Hokage, they had all but vanished under the Third's rule. The politics behind that... she dared not take lightly.

"Medical ninjutsu... personal apprentice…" Rin let out a soft, knowing laugh in the dark. The Hokage's motives were transparent—control and make use of the Senju bloodline. But for her, this protection was a necessity—something she needed to survive her most vulnerable years.

She flipped her wrist, allowing chakra to gather in her palm until it coalesced into a faint, glowing flower seal.

This body's talent was indeed extraordinary. She'd previously thought it was the result of early training, constant medicinal baths, and a strong spirit. But now she knew the truth: she was a Senju.

"Sorry, Misaki-mama," she whispered into the darkness, "But I will survive. No matter what."

Outside, the moon was obscured by clouds. The room was plunged into deeper shadow. Rin finally peeked out from under her blanket, breathing in the faintly chilled air. Starting tomorrow, she would officially become the Third's student. That meant opportunity—but also increased surveillance.

"Danzo…" The name furrowed her brow. The leader of Root wouldn't sit idly by while a Senju was taken under the Hokage's wing. She could expect interference. She would be watched. Tested.

But Rin wasn't afraid.

She had already planned her survival strategy—play the role of the "ideal student" the Third desired, all while quietly amassing power. And when her wings were strong enough...

A breeze stirred the curtains, and Rin picked up the faintest shift in the air—a whisper of breath outside the window. As expected, the Hokage had sent an ANBU to monitor her. Curling into a ball, she let out a quiet, broken sob, as though still dreaming about her mother's death—drenched in sorrow and guilt.

This performance had to run 24/7. There could be no slips.

---

The next morning, Rin arrived at the back mountain half an hour early. She had deliberately let her bandaged arm soak through with a little blood—not too much, but just enough. Enough for the Third to notice her "disobedience," but not enough to appear deliberate.

When the Hokage's figure emerged from the morning mist, Rin adjusted her expression immediately—letting a subtle blend of anticipation and unease paint her face.

"You're early," the Third said, puffing calmly on his pipe. His gaze dropped to her arm. "Did you treat the wound?"

Rin lowered her head, fingers twisting together in a nervous fidget. Her eyes drifted, avoiding his. "I did…" she murmured—just hesitant and guilty enough.

The Third sighed, smoke curling into the dawn light. "I told you—before a medic ninja heals others, she must first learn to heal herself." He crouched down to her eye level. "Let me see."

Rin hesitated, then slowly began to unwrap the bandages, revealing a wound that was, by design, neither too light nor too severe.

He took one look. "Still a few days to heal," he said. "Go to the hospital when you're free. Find Kobayashi Riko. I'll have her teach you the basics of medical ninjutsu—and she'll take care of your injuries."

His voice softened, and with a fatherly gesture, he gently ruffled her hair. "From today on, I'll teach you how to use this power the right way. The Senju bloodline isn't a curse—it's a gift."

Tears welled in Rin's eyes. Through the shimmering blur, she studied his face. Just how much calculation was hidden beneath that kindly mask? She didn't know. But she did know one thing: she had to appear moldable, without becoming a soulless puppet.

"I… I don't want to hurt myself anymore," she whispered honestly. The self-harm had been for show. "I want to learn medical ninjutsu. I want… to save people."

A flash of satisfaction lit the Hokage's eyes—exactly the answer he'd hoped for.

Training began with chakra control at its most basic level. Rin maintained careful balance in her performance—better than a typical prodigy, but not so exceptional that it raised eyebrows. Each time the Third corrected her, she showed intense focus and a clear eagerness to improve.

"Very good," he said at the end of their session, nodding. "You're progressing fast. Same time tomorrow. I'll test your chakra nature next."

Rin bowed deeply. "Thank you, Hokage-sama!"

The Third narrowed his eyes slightly and took a puff of his pipe. "Still calling me that?"

Rin blinked, then quickly corrected herself with a clear, innocent, "Sensei!"

"Mm." Pleased, the Third vanished with a soft poof.

A shadow clone, of course. It made sense—the Hokage had far too many duties to spare his real self for personal training. Of course he'd delegate to a clone.

Still uncertain whether she was being watched, Rin stayed on guard. This mentor-student game had only just begun—and she would need her wits sharp at every step.

---

On the way home, Rin took a detour to a flower shop. She spent her pocket money on a bouquet of small white flowers, then made her way to the Konoha cemetery, where many villagers had buried their loved ones.

If she was being followed—as she suspected—then all eyes would witness the same carefully curated scene: a grieving child, thinking of her mother on her very first day as the Hokage's disciple.

"Mom…" she whispered as she knelt before Misaki's grave, her voice soft enough to be carried away by the wind. "I'll survive… no matter what it takes."

She laid the flowers down gently, a tear slipping from her cheek to fall on the cold stone.

This performance was flawless.

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