The ninja rabbit from Kitahara Hitoshi's house had been picked up three years ago, just outside Konoha's eastern gate, during the aftermath of a minor skirmish involving rogue Cloud shinobi.
At that time, the rabbit was unconscious, faint chakra still flickering weakly in its core. Hitoshi carried it home—no tag, no summoning seal, just pure instinct—and raised it like a pet.
Yet, if even the notoriously possessive and clingy "Black Hinata" would freeze just by mentioning it, maybe this rabbit was far from normal?
That thought lingered as Kitahara Hitoshi made his way back to his residence.
･･･
Konoha's policies for war orphans were strict but humane—shelters, food stipends, and subsidized schooling. His apartment was located in a shinobi-sponsored housing complex in the southwestern quadrant, the second floor to be exact.
Next door?
Uzumaki Naruto.
Yes, that Naruto. Konoha's container for the Kyūbi—Kurama, the Nine-Tails. Also a war orphan, but their situations couldn't have been more different.
Hitoshi's home was clean and minimally furnished—simple tatami mats, solid wood furniture, rice-paper windows. Naruto's, however, bore the scars of stigma. Crude graffiti slathered across his door screamed:
[Demon Fox, Get Out]
[Why Are You a Ninja?!]
[You Killed My Parents!]
Hitoshi frowned every time he passed by it.
The Third Hokage, old man Sarutobi, had buried Minato Namikaze's identity to protect Naruto… or so the official version went. But in doing so, he also let the child become a scapegoat for Konoha's pain. The Kyūbi's attack had left behind too many widows and graves.
Even the elite clans—Hyūga, Uchiha, Aburame—had suffered. But no one cursed the Hokage.
So they cursed the child.
Naruto, who smiled loudly during the day, often cried himself to sleep at night.
"…"
Hitoshi flickered into Naruto's apartment using the Shunshin no Jutsu (Body Flicker Technique), placing a bento box on his chipped kitchen table.
Naruto's orphan stipend barely covered utilities. Shops hiked prices or flat-out refused service. Even Ichiraku Ramen had only recently begun treating him like a real customer, and that was mostly thanks to Teuchi's decency.
Tonight's meal was steamed fish, bamboo shoots, and onigiri.
But right now, Hitoshi had something else on his mind—his rabbit.
Back in his own apartment—75 square meters, pristine—he slipped off his sandals and walked toward the window.
"… You're already staring at the moon?"
He tilted his head.
"There's no moon out yet, you know. Want me to paint one for you?"
The rabbit didn't answer, of course. It never did.
It sat on a soft, silk blanket at the windowsill, snow-white fur glowing faintly even in the dim light. Its claws were tipped red like lacquered steel. Its eyes—Byakugan white—lacked any pupil or sclera.
And yet, they saw everything.
It didn't move when Hitoshi stepped closer. It never ran, even if the windows were open wide. It just stared out like it remembered something—something distant and lost.
Even in rain, it refused to budge. Just sat there, staring into the dark.
Was it waiting?
Three years ago, he'd shaved its backside clean to treat the wounds from chakra burns and rogue shuriken. Maybe that's why it still hated him.
But he couldn't help admiring it.
Even in the ninja world—where ninken wore armor and giant toads fought gods—this rabbit was mesmerizing.
It didn't speak like Pakkun or Gamatatsu. Didn't bark, howl, or demand contracts.
Just existed.
Refined. Elegant. Silent.
･･･
Hitoshi vanished in a flicker, reappearing behind it.
But the rabbit didn't flinch. In a blur faster than most jōnin could track, it reappeared at the opposite end of the room, eyes glinting.
He sighed. "So dramatic…"
He walked toward the kitchen and pulled out a bundle of crisp carrots. With a kunai, he sliced them carefully, discarding the ones that were too dry or too thick.
Only the sweetest core was offered—pink and perfect.
The rabbit, still silent, leapt onto the dining table.
It refused to eat on the floor. Always demanded human plates. Always wiped its mouth after meals using tissue.
At first, Hitoshi thought it was just an unusually picky Summoning beast.
But now?
It had gone a full month once without food—zero intake. And it didn't weaken. Not even a hair out of place.
He'd only seen that kind of resilience from bijū—like Shukaku or Kurama—or possibly celestial beings from legends.
Still, the rabbit showed no flashy powers. No transformation, no chakra burst. Nothing.
Except today.
Today, something changed.
He offered the carrot slice as usual.
The rabbit looked at it. Then at him.
Then it dropped the carrot and lunged—not for food, but for his hand.
Its tiny paws gripped his middle finger.
"…Finally warming up to me?" he chuckled. "Spoiled little thing."
Then—
"AH—!"
A sharp pain lanced through him.
His knees buckled.
And his vision blurred—
"W-What is… this?"
His chakra network flared, centered around his eyes. He felt something ancient, something overwhelming, pour into him.
A feeling like… gravity warping around his vision.
His hands trembled.
Rinnegan?
No… this feels heavier… more primal…
And then—
A cold wind swept through the room, and the rabbit leapt back to its perch on the windowsill.
Its eyes stared at him, softer now. Almost apologetic.
And for the first time… it spoke.
"Don't break too quickly, Kitahara Hitoshi. The moon watches us both."
･･･
Meanwhile—
At Konoha Academy, Hatake Kakashi stared at the class roster and sighed.
"A new Genin with Rinnegan potential and a summoning rabbit from the Ōtsutsuki bloodline?"
He slid the paper into his vest.
"Looks like my day just got more interesting."