Naruto: One Eye Tenseigan

The warm glow of the ramen shop's lanterns wrapped around Team 2 like a familiar hug. Bowls of ramen, piled high with toppings, steamed in front of them, but the conversation had overtaken the food.

Mai twirled her chopsticks and pointed them at Tomaru, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Alright, Tomaru. Spill it. Were you actually trying to charm the hawk when you caught it? Because, honestly, the way you were whispering to it? Kinda suspicious."

Tomaru paused mid-slurp, his dark eyes narrowing as he set his bowl down. "Charm it? I was calming it. There's a difference, but I wouldn't expect you to know that."

Mina pushed her glasses up, her lips quirking slightly. "To be fair, you did have that 'tall, dark, and brooding' thing going. If the hawk had eyelashes, I think it would've batted them."

Mai doubled over in laughter, nearly spilling her tea. "Oh my gosh, yes! Tomaru's secret jutsu: Hawk Heartbreaker no Jutsu."

Tomaru stifled a laugh. "You two are ridiculous. It's called having a calm demeanor. Maybe you should try it, Mai."

Mai gasped, clutching her chest like she'd been struck. "Oh, Sensei, did you hear that? Tomaru's bullying me again!"

Sayuri, sitting at the head of the table, took a slow sip of tea, her emerald eyes glinting with amusement. "I heard, Mai. And honestly, I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Sensei!" Mai pouted, her shoulders slumping dramatically. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side."

"I am," Sayuri replied, her tone deadpan. "That's why I'm trying to prepare you for the harsh realities of life. Like not tripping over your own feet during a mission."

Mai gasped, her jaw dropping as she pointed dramatically at Sayuri. "Traitor! Sensei, how could you?"

Sayuri's tone was even, her humor sharp. "Because someone needs to prepare you for reality. Like the fact that running headfirst into every situation isn't always the best approach."

Mina chuckled softly. "Like that time you tripped over a branch while yelling, 'I've got this!'"

Tomaru raised an eyebrow, his tone flat. "Or when you mistook a shadow for an enemy and threw a kunai into your own pack."

Mai turned bright red, slapping her hands on the table. "Okay, okay! We're not here to relive my greatest hits!"

Sayuri tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. "No? I was actually looking forward to the one about the time you got stuck in a tree."

"That wasn't my fault!" Mai groaned, sinking lower in her seat. "It was a very confusing tree."

Mina adjusted her chopsticks, her expression one of serene amusement. "Sure it was. Just like how the bird was clearly 'out to get you' when it flew at your face."

Mai waved her hand dismissively. "Okay, new rule: No bird talk. Forever."

Tomaru smirked faintly. "So, no discussing your grand declaration that 'no bird can outsmart a ninja' just before it outsmarted you?"

"Tomaru!" Mai grabbed a napkin and launched it at him. He caught it effortlessly, his calm demeanor unshaken.

Sayuri's soft laugh surprised them all. "At least this team keeps things interesting," she said, reaching for her tea again.

Mai perked up immediately, grinning. "See, Sensei likes us chaotic!"

Sayuri sipped her tea, her gaze steady. "I tolerate you. There's a difference."

Tomaru leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral but his eyes glinting with amusement. "That's the nicest thing she's ever said to you, Mai. You should frame it."

"Right next to my certificate for being the team's comedic genius," Mai shot back.

Mina tilted her head thoughtfully. "I think that's less of a certificate and more of a warning label."

The whole table erupted in laughter, even Sayuri shaking her head with a small, rare smile.

As the laughter died down, Mai slurped the last of her noodles and set her bowl down with a satisfied sigh.

"Alright," Mai declared, slurping up the last of her noodles. "Let's talk real missions. The hawk delivery was fine and all, but come on! Where's the action? I want to fight bandits or save a princess or something!"

Mina, always the pragmatist, set her bowl down and raised an eyebrow. "You mean you want to trip over another rock while charging into battle?"

Mai's face flushed, and she pointed a chopstick at Mina. "You're never letting that go, are you?"

"No," Mina replied serenely, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I'm not."

Sayuri-sensei, sitting a few seats away, chuckled softly. "Careful what you wish for, Mai. The next mission might just give you more than you bargained for."

Tomaru, stretching his arms above his head, rose from his seat. "If we're done here, we should probably get some rest. Sensei's 'surprises' tend to come early."

Sayuri's smile turned mischievous. "Oh, you'll love this one. It's got... layers."

Mai groaned. "That sounds ominous."

The streets of Konoha gradually grew quieter as Tomaru broke away from the group. The lively chatter and warmth of the ramen shop faded behind him, replaced by the cool embrace of the evening. Shadows stretched across the cobblestones, and the distant rustling of leaves punctuated the stillness.

His mind, however, was anything but quiet.

The mission to deliver the hawk had been simple on paper, yet it underscored a glaring limitation—his inability to use the Tenseigan openly. Its immense power remained locked behind the necessity of secrecy, a burden he could not ignore.

Power is meaningless if I can't wield it when it matters, he thought grimly.

Reaching the edge of the village, Tomaru stopped and leaned against a tree, pulling a small notebook from his pouch. Flipping it open, he scanned the sketches and notes he had meticulously jotted down over the past few days.

At the center of his thoughts was the mask.

Inspired by the menacing design of Hanzo the Salamander's legendary visage, Tomaru had reimagined the mask with his own flair. It would feature sleek, futuristic lines with dark brown glass to obscure his glowing eyes.

Among its sketches, the design for the mask was the most detailed. It wasn't just a tool; it was an extension of himself. Its aesthetic mattered as much as its function. The dark brown glass he had envisioned for the mask wasn't chosen solely for practicality—it was chosen to match his hair, blending seamlessly with his appearance.

If he was going to conceal his identity, he would do it on his terms. He wasn't just making a tool; he was crafting something that would define him.

Yet, turning the vision into reality required expertise far beyond his own.

Tomaru's search for a solution had led him to whispers of a man named Katasuke Tōno—a brilliant but eccentric inventor working quietly on the fringes of Konoha.

"Ah, Katasuke?" a villager had said when Tomaru discreetly inquired. "Lives out near the forest. Strange fellow. Always talking about gadgets that'll 'revolutionize shinobi life.'"

Another had laughed. "He's harmless enough, but good luck making sense of him. Man's brain works in ways the rest of us can't follow."

That eccentricity was precisely what Tomaru needed. Katasuke wasn't widely known yet—his genius hadn't yet reshaped the shinobi world as it would in the future—but Tomaru had glimpsed enough of his potential through to know he was the right person for this task.

As he tucked the notebook back into his pouch, Tomaru felt a spark of determination reignite. The mask was no longer just an idea—it was a necessity.

The forest whispered with life as Tomaru approached the workshop. Nestled among towering trees, the modest building seemed almost out of place, a lone testament to human ingenuity surrounded by nature's quiet grandeur. Warm lantern light seeped through the windows, casting faint patterns onto the ground, while smoke curled lazily from a crooked chimney. A faint hum vibrated through the air, accompanied by the occasional hiss of steam and the rhythmic clinking of metal.

Tomaru hesitated at the door, his hand hovering just above the wood. This was it—the place where his vision could become a reality. Taking a steadying breath, he rapped firmly. The knock echoed, followed by a clatter of tools and hurried footsteps.

The door creaked open, revealing a man whose disheveled appearance belied the sharp intelligence in his eyes. Katasuke Tōno's enthusiastic grin split his face, his glasses perched askew on his nose. His lab coat was a chaotic mosaic of grease stains and ink smudges, its pockets bulging with tools, scraps of paper, and strange gadgets.

"A visitor!" Katasuke exclaimed, his wide grin radiating enthusiasm. His glasses sat slightly askew, and his lab coat was a mess of grease stains and overstuffed pockets bursting with tools and blueprints. "Now, this is unexpected. Most people only show up when something's broken—or impossible to fix. What brings you here?"

Tomaru stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the workshop. It was a chaotic yet vibrant space, every surface covered in inventions in various stages of completion. Shelves bowed under the weight of spare parts and unrecognizable gadgets, while the walls were a patchwork of pinned blueprints and hastily scribbled notes. The air was thick with the mingled scents of grease, ozone, and freshly polished metal.

"I need a mask," Tomaru said, his tone calm but purposeful.

Katasuke's eyes widened with curiosity. "A mask, you say? Not just any mask, I take it. Something special?"

Without a word, Tomaru pulled a small notebook from his pouch, flipping it open to reveal detailed sketches and annotations. The design was sleek and minimalist, combining function with aesthetic precision.

"It needs to be lightweight and durable," Tomaru explained, pointing to specific features. "The glass should obscure my eyes from the outside while allowing perfect clarity for me. The material must be chakra-conductive, subtle but effective. And the glass should match my hair—dark brown."

Katasuke leaned closer, his grin widening as he studied the sketches. His fingers traced the lines, his expression one of genuine admiration. "Ah, you've put real thought into this! Aesthetics meet practicality—my favorite kind of challenge. But…" His tone shifted, becoming more serious. "This won't be simple. For a project like this, I'll need specialized materials. Rare ones."

"What do you need, and where can I find it?"

Katasuke adjusted his glasses, his expression serious. "Alright, let's see…" He grabbed a grease-stained clipboard from a cluttered table and began jotting down notes.

"First, we'll need chakra-resistant alloys—Land of Iron is your best bet for those. Next, lightweight composite fibers from the Land of Wind. And finally, chakra-conductive glass. The best artisans for that are in the Land of Lightning. Oh, and let's not forget the bonding agents! Tricky stuff but crucial."

Tomaru studied the list, his mind already mapping out the journey. The Lands of Iron, Wind, and Lightning were spread far across the continent, each presenting unique challenges.

"I'll get the materials," Tomaru said without hesitation. "Start working on the design. I'll bring you what you need."

Katasuke's grin returned, full of approval. "You're serious about this, aren't you? Most shinobi wouldn't bother—they'd stick with a standard mask or give up at the mention of rare materials. But you…" He trailed off, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You're interesting. I like interesting."

Katasuke clapped his hands together, already turning toward a workbench cluttered with tools. "Alright, consider it a deal! I'll start on the prototype right away. Bring me the materials, and we'll turn this into something extraordinary."

As Tomaru stepped back into the night, the cool forest air greeted him like an old friend. The list of materials felt heavy in his pocket, a reminder of the daunting task ahead. But Tomaru's resolve was firm.

The mask wasn't just a tool—it was a necessity. The Tenseigan's power was too conspicuous, its glow too distinctive. Concealing it wasn't just about survival; it was about control. He needed to move in the shadows, unseen and unrecognized.

The Lands of Iron, Wind, and Lightning lay far beyond Konoha's borders. Each would test his skills and his resolve. The thought of the journey ahead stirred something in him—not fear, but determination.

Above, the moon hung high, its light casting long shadows across the forest floor. Tomaru tightened his grip on the list, his steps deliberate as he began his walk back to the village.

This mask would be more than a shield. It would be a symbol of his independence, his identity. And nothing—not distance, danger, or doubt—would stand in the way of its creation.

As he disappeared into the night, the faint hum of the Tenseigan pulsed softly within him, a quiet reminder of the power he carried and the path he had chosen.