The Tactician: Naruto Fanfiction

[3757 Words]

Lunch was simple but well-balanced, like every meal Hisao prepared. 

Yasu had noticed early on that the man was good at everything he did. Cooking, organizing, training—everything was done with efficiency, never excessive but always precise. He didn't waste movement, didn't waste effort. 

Yasu took the last bite of his food, setting his chopsticks down neatly as he glanced across the table. Hisao was nearly finished himself, taking a sip of tea, his expression unreadable as always. 

For a moment, there was only the quiet sound of dishes being set aside. 

Then, Yasu spoke. 

"You're a shinobi," he started, tone thoughtful. "But surely you don't just… fight." 

Hisao glanced at him, raising a brow. 

Yasu met his gaze, curious. "There are other sectors, right? Other things shinobi do?" 

Hisao was silent for a beat. 

Then another. 

For a moment, Yasu almost thought he wouldn't answer. 

Then, finally, Hisao exhaled, setting his teacup down with a quiet clink. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, as if it were nothing of significance. 

"Hm. I suppose I do more than just fight." 

He leaned back slightly, rolling his shoulders, before finally giving the boy a proper answer. 

"I'm the Strategic Commander of Iwagakure's Shinobi Forces." 

The words settled between them, heavy despite the nonchalant way Hisao said them. 

Yasu blinked. 

He hadn't been expecting that. 

Hisao continued, tone even. "I oversee our military operations. Tactics, defense, long-term strategy—if it concerns Iwa's strength, I handle it." He lifted his teacup again, as if discussing the weather instead of a position that carried immense weight. "In times of war, I help lead our forces. In times of peace, I make sure we're prepared for when the peace inevitably ends." 

Yasu absorbed that, mind turning. 

He hadn't expected this. He had assumed Hisao was important, of course—anyone trusted with taking in a child like him wouldn't be just anyone—but Strategic Commander? 

That wasn't just important. 

That was one of the most critical positions in the entire village. 

Yasu's fingers tapped lightly against the table, a habit he hadn't quite gotten rid of. "…You're directly under the Tsuchikage, then?" 

Hisao smirked slightly, as if amused by how quickly Yasu had pieced it together. "Something like that." 

Yasu stared at him. 

Strategic Commander. 

Not just a shinobi. Not just some high-ranking officer. The man he was now living with—the one who cooked their meals, the one who walked beside him in silence, the one who had been testing him with every conversation they had— was one of the most important figures in Iwagakure. 

It was like finally seeing the full picture of something he had only glimpsed before. 

His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table, a faint spark of something stirring in his chest. 

Interest. 

Excitement. 

For so long, he had only ever thought of becoming a shinobi in the most basic sense and see how far he could go from there. It was a path, a means to power, to control his own life. It was a necessity. But now—now—he was seeing something more. 

Strategy. Command. Control over the battlefield itself. 

This wasn't just about fighting. This was about leading. 

For the first time in two lives, Yasu felt something he hadn't before. 

A sense of direction. 

Hisao smiled slightly, watching him. "You're thinking about something," he mused. 

Yasu exhaled, forcing himself to tamp down the eagerness rising in his chest. He didn't want to sound naive, didn't want to seem childish. But this—this was what he had always wanted, even before he had known it was an option. 

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows against the table. "What's it like?" he asked, voice steady but carrying an undeniable spark of interest. "Being in your position." 

Hisao raised a brow, taking in the shift in his tone. 

Then, after a pause, he sighed, stretching his arms behind his head. "What's it like?" he repeated. "Hm. Depends on the day." 

Yasu waited. 

Hisao smirked, amused by how engaged the boy suddenly was. He tapped a finger against the table, as if choosing his words carefully. 

"It's… a game, in a way," he said at last. "A long, drawn-out game with thousands of moving pieces. Sometimes, it's about predicting the next war before it even begins. Other times, it's about dealing with threats before they become threats." His fingers drummed idly. "And sometimes, it's just about making sure this village is still standing in ten years." 

That sounded fun. 

Not in the childish sense of the word. Not in the way that playing pretend was fun, or the way training was fun. 

This was a different kind of excitement. 

The kind that settled deep. 

The kind that made Yasu think, I want that. 

Not just power. Not just strength. 

He wanted to be the one making the decisions. 

He wanted to be the one orchestrating everything from above. 

His fingers stopped tapping, curling into a fist instead. 

Hisao noticed. His smile widened slightly. "Something on your mind?" 

Yasu looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time since coming to this house, his voice held certainty. 

"…I think I'd like that job." 

Hisao smiled even more at that, having not expected the boy to be that interested. 

Yasu leaned in slightly, elbows resting against the table. "Hisao-san…" 

Hisao raised a brow at the sudden shift in tone. 

"…Do you play games?" 

Hisao blinked. 

Then, baffled, he let out a short laugh. "Games?" 

Yasu hesitated. He wasn't sure how to phrase it. In his last life, he would have just asked outright—Do you play chess?—but in this world, he had come to realize something. Chess didn't exist. 

He had looked. Asked, in small ways. Waited to hear a passing mention of it. But it was never there. 

Which meant he had to adjust. 

"…Strategy games," he clarified after a pause. "Something like… a battle, but on a board." 

Hisao's amusement lingered as he studied him. "A battle on a board," he repeated, thoughtful now. Then, after a moment, he smirked. "Shogi." 

Yasu's brows lifted slightly. Shogi. 

Yasu had never heard of shogi before. 

But the moment Hisao said it—a battlefield on a board—his mind latched onto it. 

His fingers twitched slightly against the table, a quiet flicker of excitement settling in his chest. He had missed playing chess. He hadn't realized how much until now. The planning, the countering, the slow, deliberate manoeuvring of pieces—all of it had been a comfort, a way to sharpen his mind. 

And now, here was something similar. 

"Shogi," he murmured, testing the word. His gaze lifted, sharp with immediate interest. "How different is it?" 

There was a pause, Hisao stared for a moment as if thinking before responding, "From what?" 

Yasu hesitated. Then, carefully, adjusted. 

"From how I'm imaging it." 

Hisao gave him a knowing look but didn't press. Instead, he exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "Shogi's about positioning. Control. You think ahead, you set traps, you force your opponent into mistakes." He shrugged. "The rules are simple. Winning isn't." 

Yasu liked that answer. 

He leaned forward slightly. "Can you teach me?" 

Hisao's grin was slow, but there was something amused behind it. 

"Depends," he mused, reaching for his teacup again. "Are you any good at losing?" 

Yasu's lips twitched, the closest thing to a smirk he had given since this conversation started. 

"…Guess I'll find out." 

Hisao chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, kid. I'll teach you." 

And just like that, Yasu had something new to master. 

Hisao stretched as he stood, rolling his shoulders before nodding toward the table. "Put the dishes in the sink." 

Yasu didn't argue. He gathered the bowls and cups with practiced efficiency, stacking them carefully before carrying them into the small kitchen. Hisao wasn't strict, but he had an expectation—if something needed to be done, you did it. No complaints. No wasted effort. 

By the time Yasu returned, Hisao was already back. 

And in his hands was a wooden box. 

He set it down on the table with a quiet thud, unlatching the top with a simple flick of his fingers. Yasu stepped closer, eyes fixed on it, curiosity sparking as Hisao removed the board inside. 

It was a folding board, smooth wood marked with a grid of squares. Simple. Efficient. 

The pieces followed—small, flat, pentagonal tiles, each one marked with kanji. Unlike chess, there were no distinct figurines, no knights or rooks carved from stone or wood. Just symbols, waiting to be moved. 

Yasu sat down immediately, leaning in as Hisao began setting up the board with practiced ease. 

"The game is played on a 9x9 grid," Hisao explained, his voice even, methodical. "Each player starts with twenty pieces. Every single one has a specific way it can move—just like in war, each soldier has a role." 

Yasu's fingers itched to pick up a piece, but he forced himself to listen. 

Hisao began placing the first row of pieces, starting from the back. "Your front line—your pawns—move forward one space at a time. Unlike chess, they don't capture diagonally. They just keep pushing forward." 

So, no easy sacrifices to break defences. Interesting. 

"The two on the corners? Lances. They can move forward as far as they want but can't retreat." 

Yasu frowned slightly, already picturing possible traps. That was… restrictive. But if used right, it could be deadly. 

Hisao moved inward, placing the next two pieces. "These are the knights; they can only move forward in an 'L' shape. They can't go backward." 

Yasu tapped a finger against the table. "So, once they advance, they're committed." 

Hisao gave him an approving nod. "Exactly." 

The next two pieces were set down. "Silver generals. They move diagonally, plus one step forward. Flexible, good for offense." 

Then, the two beside them. "Gold generals. Stronger. They can move forward, sideways, and even backward, but they can't go diagonally back." 

Yasu's mind turned. So, these were the real core of defence. They couldn't move freely like a queen in chess, but their stability made them essential. 

Next came the king, placed at the very centre. "The one piece that matters most. You lose this, you lose the game." 

Then, finally—two last pieces, placed strategically. 

"The rook," Hisao said, tapping it. "Moves as far as it wants, but only straight." 

"And the bishop," Yasu guessed, watching as Hisao placed it opposite. 

Hisao nodded. "Moves diagonally, but just like the rook, it can go as far as it wants." He leaned back slightly, arms crossing. "These two? They're your powerhouses. You play shogi without knowing how to use these, you'll lose." 

Yasu's gaze stayed locked on the board, his mind already working, already piecing things together. 

Hisao let the silence stretch before speaking again. 

Hisao tapped a finger against the board. "Black moves first. Always." 

Yasu's eyes flickered to the board, taking in the layout. It was different. Not in a bad way—just different from what he was used to. 

His fingers brushed against the edge of one of his pieces, feeling the smooth wood beneath his fingertips. The layout was compact, tight, like a coiled spring. No sprawling spread of pawns. No immediate openings. 

Just layers of defence, all waiting to be unravelled. 

He liked it. 

"Shogi is about pressure," Hisao continued, watching him closely. "Every move you make should push your opponent, limit their choices. You take a piece?" He smirked slightly. "You don't just remove it from the board. You claim it." 

Yasu's gaze snapped up. "What?" 

Hisao chuckled at his expression. "Captured pieces aren't gone. You can put them back onto the board—on your side." He gestured lazily at the empty spaces. "That's what makes it different from chess. Losing a piece doesn't mean it's gone forever. But it does mean your opponent gets to decide when and where it comes back." 

Yasu stared at him. 

Then back at the board. 

Then back at Hisao. 

"…That's genius." 

Hisao laughed. "It's war." 

Yasu exhaled slowly, feeling genuinely excited. 

This is fun. 

It reminded him of his past life, of the quiet afternoons spent at his grandfather's desk, the heavy scent of ink and polished wood in the air. His grandfather had always been a rigid man, always pushing him toward a future Yasu never wanted—telling him about the business, the empire he would inherit one day. 

At the time, Yasu had ignored most of it, too caught up in his own ambitions. But he had enjoyed those moments, hadn't he? The times when his grandfather had stopped talking about responsibility long enough to set the board between them, explaining strategies, testing his ability to think ahead. 

And now, this—this game, this moment with Hisao—felt the same. 

Yasu grinned. 

Not a smirk. Not something measured or controlled. A real, genuine smile. 

Hisao blinked, clearly surprised by the reaction. Then, his own smirk widened. "Heh. You really do like this, don't you?" 

Yasu hummed, eyes bright as he looked up. "It's fun." 

Hisao chuckled, shaking his head as he rested an elbow on the table. "That's the first time I've seen you look like an actual four-year-old." 

Yasu didn't care. 

For once, he wasn't thinking about what he was supposed to be. He wasn't thinking about the war, or his past, or the fact that this wasn't the life he was meant to have. 

Right now? 

Right now, he just wanted to win. 

He picked up his first piece, moving it forward. 

Hisao smirked. 

And the game began. 

. . . 

A loss. Again. 

Yasu stared at the board, the pieces forming a pattern of his downfall, Hisao's victory evident even before the final move had been made. The old man exhaled through his nose, a satisfied sound, and with a practiced ease, he began resetting the board. The worn wooden pieces clicked softly against each other as they found their proper places once more. 

"A loss, but a good one," Hisao remarked, a victorious smile tugging at his lips. "You pick things up quickly. Really good for your age." 

Yasu said nothing. His arms remained folded on the table as he lowered his head onto them in silent defeat. He wasn't unfamiliar with the sting of losing. But still. He'd been decent at chess before. The strategy, the patience, the ability to read ahead—those skills had transferred somewhat, but shogi was different. It was fun, he liked it, but he needed work. For now, he'd accept these defeats. 

After a moment, he let out a long sigh and lifted his head, shifting his position. He propped his elbow on the table, resting his face against the palm of his hand, watching Hisao arrange the pieces once more. 

"Can you teach me how to mold chakra?" The words left his mouth before he could second-guess them, casual but expectant. 

Hisao's hands stilled, hovering over the board. His eyes flickered to Yasu, studying him. Then, with an exhale, he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. 

"You want to learn chakra molding?" Hisao echoed, as if weighing the question carefully. 

Yasu gave a small nod, fingers tapping idly against his cheek. 

He gave a short nod, the kind that said he had already made up his mind, and without another word, he started putting the board away. The soft clack of the pieces as they slid into their designated spots filled the quiet between them. Yasu watched idly, fingers still tapping against his cheek, waiting. 

Once the board was stowed away, Hisao leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Chakra molding, huh? It's not too difficult," he started, his tone even, measured. "At least, not on its own. People tend to make it harder than it is by overthinking it. Let their heads get in the way of their bodies." 

Hisao held up a hand, curling and uncurling his fingers as if grasping something invisible. "Chakra's already inside you. In your muscles, in your blood, in your breath. Molding it is just a matter of learning how to guide it, like steering a river instead of trying to force it to change direction." 

He let his hand drop, watching Yasu carefully. "Some kids struggle with it because they're too stiff, too focused on getting it right. Others can do it instinctively but don't understand how or why, so they can't control it. Balance is key—too much force and you burn out, too little and nothing happens." 

Yasu listened in silence, absorbing the words. It made sense in a way—like instinct versus calculation, feeling versus thinking. 

Hisao exhaled and sat back. "I'll show you how. But you'll have to figure out how it feels for you. No one can do that part for you." 

Yasu gave another small nod, lowering his hand from his face. "Alright," he said simply. 

Hisao smirked, tilting his head toward the door. "Come on then. Best to start with the basics." 

Yasu pushed himself up from his seat, following Hisao as they stepped outside. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves. It was early enough that the sun had yet to reach its peak, casting soft shadows along the training grounds. 

Hisao came to a stop in an open space, rolling his shoulders before turning to face Yasu. "Alright," he said, his voice losing some of its usual sharpness, settling into something more instructive. "Before anything else, I want you to sit." 

Yasu arched a brow but didn't argue, lowering himself to the ground, legs crossed. Hisao followed suit, settling in front of him. 

"Chakra is a blend of physical energy from your body and spiritual energy from your mind," Hisao explained. "That means your body needs to be steady, and your mind needs to be focused. It won't matter how strong you are if you can't bring the two together." 

Yasu gave a slight nod, resting his hands on his knees. He'd read about chakra before, understood the basic concept of molding it, but understanding and doing were two different things. 

"Close your eyes," Hisao instructed. "Take a breath. Don't try to force anything, just focus on yourself. The way your chest rises and falls, the way your limbs feel. Get used to it." 

Yasu obeyed, letting his eyes slide shut. His breaths were even, his body relaxed. The morning air was cool against his skin, and for a moment, he thought of nothing. 

"Good," Hisao murmured. "Now, I want you to find it." 

Yasu's brow furrowed slightly. "Find it?" 

"Your chakra," Hisao said simply. "It's there, even if you can't feel it yet. Try." 

Yasu hesitated but did as he was told. He focused inward, searching for something—anything—that might resemble the energy Hisao spoke of. At first, there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of his own body, his steady heartbeat. 

For a moment, Yasu stayed still, breathing evenly as he focused on that warmth at his core. It felt distant, yet undeniably present—like a small ember waiting to catch flame. 

"Now," Hisao said, his voice steady. "Try to move it. Just a little. Don't force it—guide it." 

Yasu inhaled, focusing on the ember, willing it to shift. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he felt it begin to stir. A ripple. A pulse. It spread outward, stretching through his limbs, washing over him in waves. 

And then— 

Too much. 

A sharp breath hitched in his throat. His chakra expanded all at once, not in a steady stream but an overwhelming surge, rushing through his body like a dam had burst. It wasn't just his chakra—no, he was feeling something else. Something beyond himself. 

It was everywhere. 

The trees, the ground, the birds overhead, the insects burrowed beneath the soil—every flicker of life, every trace of energy flooded into him at once. It was suffocating, drowning, like trying to listen to a thousand voices screaming at once. His chest tightened, his pulse hammering against his ribs. 

"Yasu." Hisao's voice cut through the haze, sharp and firm, but distant—too distant. 

He couldn't stop it. He didn't know how. 

The world around him was too loud. Too much. 

His fingers dug into the earth, breath coming faster. Hisao said something else, but Yasu barely registered it before the overwhelming flood of sensation swallowed him whole— 

And then— 

Nothing. 

Darkness. 

. 

. 

. 

Hisao stood near the hospital bed, arms crossed, watching the steady rise and fall of Yasu's chest. The boy was still unconscious, his face pale against the white sheets. Hisao exhaled quietly, his expression unreadable. 

Footsteps approached, measured and purposeful. A medic-nin entered the room, his hands tucked neatly behind his back as he came to a stop beside Hisao. The man gave a respectful bow before speaking. 

"Matsuka-sama." His voice was even, professional. "We've finished our assessment." 

Hisao turned his head slightly. "And?" 

The medic straightened. "There's no lasting damage. Physically, he's fine. His chakra network is intact, and there are no signs of strain—at least, not in the way one might expect. However…" A pause. "His chakra response was… abnormal." 

Hisao's eyes narrowed. "Explain." 

The medic's gaze flickered to Yasu before returning to Hisao. "When he attempted to mold his chakra, his output was far beyond what his body could regulate. It wasn't simply a case of overexertion—his chakra expanded far past his own limits. If I had to compare it to something, it was almost as if he was—" 

"—sensing everything at once." 

A brief hesitation. Then, the medic nodded. "Yes, Matsuka-sama. That would be the best way to describe it." 

Hisao hummed, his expression betraying little. 

It was as he thought. 

Yasu wasn't just a sensor—he was hypersensitive to chakra. The moment he attempted to mold it, his awareness must have flared uncontrollably, drawing in every trace of chakra around him. The sheer flood of information would have been overwhelming for someone untrained, enough to send his mind into shock. 

He let out a quiet sigh through his nose. "What's the solution?" 

The medic folded his arms behind his back. "For now, rest. Once he wakes, he'll need to be trained carefully. If his chakra sensitivity is truly this extreme, then conventional methods of control may not be enough. He'll need to be taught how to filter out external interference before he can even think about molding chakra properly." 

Hisao remained silent for a moment, then finally gave a small nod. "Understood." 

He glanced back at Yasu, studying the boy's sleeping form. 

This was going to be a challenge. 

But Hisao had already made up his mind. 

He wasn't going to let Yasu drown in this.