The Forgemage of Konoha

Nakamura's Bond

After a moment of silence, Nakamura spoke with clenched fists, "If that's how it is... I'll be the one to kill you. You're a traitor to the village!"

"Haha, that's more like it. That's the Nakamura I know." Shimizu's smile twisted into something bitter. "Get those two kids out of here. I'm going all out."

"Fire Release: Great Dragon Fire Technique!"

It was the signature jutsu Shimizu had mastered when promoted to Jōnin. Though classified as B-rank, fire-style ninjutsu scaled with the user's chakra control and affinity. And Shimizu, a fire-style specialist, had refined this technique until it rivaled A-rank jutsu in power.

The searing flames forced Shikamaru and Tai Yi back as soon as they approached. From a distance, Shirō raised a kunai, preparing to take the shot—but paused when Nakamura subtly signaled him to stand down.

"Wind Release: Pressure Damage!"

Back when Nakamura had become a Jōnin, he had chosen two B-rank techniques. The other was also Wind Release—designed specifically to amplify Shimizu's fire-style attacks. Ironically, now he was using that same wind technique to oppose Shimizu.

Both jutsu were high-power, short-range attacks. Wind had an elemental advantage over fire, and Nakamura's Pressure Damage scattered Shimizu's flames in a burst of howling wind—but Shimizu deftly leapt aside, dodging the follow-up attack.

Neither man was surprised their techniques didn't land. They had been comrades for too long. Without a word, both charged forward with kunai in hand.

Clang!

Their blades met with a sharp metallic echo—memories flashing behind their eyes.

---

"Hello, I'm Shimizu."

"I'm Nakamura."

---

"Why did you betray the village, Shimizu?! Didn't we promise to achieve that dream together?!"

"There's no why, Nakamura!" Shimizu snapped as he ducked a spinning kick. "Stop clinging to childish ideals!" Twisting his wrist, he slashed upward with his kunai.

Nakamura parried just in time.

---

"My affinity is Fire. What's yours?"

"Wind and Earth."

"Whoa, two elements?"

"Yeah, but I'm focusing on Wind Release—for now."

"Why not Earth? It's really versatile."

"Because Wind enhances Fire. Didn't we agree? We're going to fulfill our dream together."

Shimizu had smiled back then. "Yeah. It's a promise."

---

"If our dream was meaningless…" Nakamura roared as he kicked Shimizu backwards, "...then were all our years together meaningless too?!"

"Cough!" Shimizu staggered to his feet, blood on his lips. "You're still so naive, Nakamura. No matter how hard we try, we can't change the system."

"There's a wall between us and the clans—a gap in talent, in resources. And they work just as hard as we do. Why should we surpass them?"

Nakamura hesitated, then said, "I know. But I'll still chase that dream. Even if I fail, I'll know I stayed true to myself."

Shimizu stared at him, a hint of his old self flickering in his eyes. "Heh… you really haven't changed."

"You always were better suited to Earth Release," he added quietly. "You had a gift for it. But you chose Wind… just to help me."

"You always helped me. So let me help you this time… even if it's shameless to repay kindness with something that's not mine to give."

"What are you—"

Splat!

From afar, Shikamaru, Tai Yi, and Shirō watched in stunned silence.

Shimizu had plunged his kunai into his own neck.

"Shimizu!!" Nakamura screamed, rushing to catch him.

But it was too late.

The blade had pierced deeply. Blood gushed from the wound. Shimizu smiled weakly before collapsing in Nakamura's arms—lifeless.

"You idiot…!" Nakamura's voice cracked. "I would've found a way! If we worked together, we could've convinced Hokage-sama. He might have pardoned you…!"

Though Nakamura had threatened to kill him earlier, it was bluster. They had been teammates for over a decade. Unlike Shirō's brief camaraderie with Chong Jie, Nakamura and Shimizu had grown up together—Genin, Chūnin, Jōnin. Their squads often operated together, even after promotion.

Shimizu's death shattered Nakamura's composure.

He stared at his fallen comrade's peaceful face, remembering...

---

"Haha, Nakamura, our Wind-Fire combo will make us unstoppable!"

"Nakamura, I finally perfected Great Fireball! How's your Great Breakthrough going?"

"Nakamura…"

---

The memories blurred together, stopping at the moment Shimizu smiled—and drove the kunai into his throat.

Silently, Nakamura sealed Shimizu's body in a scroll and turned back to town.

Shikamaru and Tai Yi followed behind without a word.

Even Shirō, watching from above, chose not to speak. He wasn't worried about Nakamura breaking down—Jōnin had strong mental fortitude—but he knew Nakamura would need time to grieve.

They returned to the inn in silence.

---

That night, Nakamura sat alone in his room, staring at the scroll containing Shimizu's remains.

He murmured to himself, "Don't worry. I'll achieve our dream. Someday, commoner ninja will have the same opportunities as the clans."

The Second Hokage had created the Ninja Academy to give commoners a chance, but it only taught the basics. The clans still had secret techniques, private training grounds, and passed-down jutsu.

In truth, the gap hadn't narrowed much.

Telling people that "hard work beats talent" was a comforting lie. Only geniuses who also worked hard could surpass others like them.

If everyone trained equally, talent and resources still tipped the scale.

That's why most commoner ninja ended up as expendable foot soldiers.

Nakamura didn't expect them to surpass the clans. That was fantasy. But he did hope to strengthen their base enough to reduce the senseless deaths.

Still, reality was cruel.

In his two years as a Jōnin, he'd accomplished nothing on that front. One lone Jōnin had no sway against powerful clans with dozens of elite shinobi. The Uchiha alone were rumored to have hundreds of Jōnin—at least ten of them elites.

Nakamura still had a long road ahead.

---

Elsewhere in the inn, Shikamaru lay awake, replaying the events in his mind. The plan had been flawless—at least on paper. The skirmish with the Genin and Chūnin had gone well. But Shimizu... hadn't followed any script.

"My dad was right," he muttered, "the human heart is the hardest thing to predict."

He sighed, then changed his tone. "Tch. Whatever. Too troublesome. I'm going to sleep."

Rolling over like a dead fish, he fell asleep without another word.