Morning light struggled to pierce the gloom hanging over Konoha's sky. In the Senju residence, the dining room held the warmth of breakfast, and a faint, lingering heaviness.
Nawaki took a vicious bite out of his rice ball, but his eyes stayed locked on Ryo across the table, who was calmly sipping soup.
That stare looked like it could burn two holes straight through his face.
The memory of his thigh being blown apart seemed to ache again deep in the bone, despite it already being the third time it had rapidly healed.
"Sis." Nawaki slapped his spoon down with a sharp clack, having found his outlet. His voice carried grievance and accusation. "You have to do something about Ryo. He is a walking hazard. Look at what he did to me. Combat drill? He went for the kill on purpose. My leg was practically roasted. Three times. Three whole times."
He raised his voice on purpose and shot Ryo a provocative look. The message could not be clearer. My backer is home, just you wait.
Tsunade, seated at the head, was sipping miso soup. At his words, she did not even lift an eyelid. Instead, she rolled her eyes so hard they nearly flipped to the ceiling.
"Eat. And stop whining," she rasped, hoarse with a hangover and impatience. She tapped the rim of her bowl with her spoon. "You think I am blind? With your so-called skill, you cannot even cast a proper Water Dragon Bullet. You rush in with fake-outs full of openings like a rabid dog. Getting your leg blown off is your own damn fault. Ryo is doing you a favor, so you do not step onto a real battlefield and leave nothing but scraps for us to collect."
She shut him down without mercy, not even sparing him a glance, much less the conspiratorial look he was begging for, hoping she would help him teach Ryo a lesson.
Nawaki's mouth opened and closed like a punctured balloon, all his bluster deflating at once. He was left with nothing but stifled humiliation and the sting of his sister's ruthless truth. Head down, he shoveled rice into his mouth with tragic vigor. Is this really my big sister? Was I picked up out of a trash can?
Beside the head seat, Uzumaki Mito had been quietly watching the lively morning unfold.
Sunlight filtered through the window, laying gentle shadows across her timeworn face.
She watched her noisy grandchildren, and the silent, straight-backed redhead. Beside him, little Kushina's face was flushed as she kept sneaking glances his way. Mito's lips curved with a tender, seasoned smile.
Breakfast ended beneath that delicate mood. Nawaki was still sulking.
When everything was tidied, they gathered around the low table in the sitting room.
Tsunade, sharp as ever, noticed Mito was different today, not the usual relaxed warmth of an early morning. There was a solemnity to her that felt like the quiet before final instructions.
Uzumaki Mito sat up a little straighter. Her eyes, calm and all-seeing, swept over the gathered children. Nawaki, stubbornly holding back his disappointment. Tsunade, feigning composure while her knuckles blanched. Kushina, nestled close to Ryo, ignorant in her youth but starting to feel unease.
Her gaze paused on Ryo's calm face, then lifted to meet Tsunade's searching, faintly fearful eyes.
"Children," Mito said. Her voice was not loud, but it settled over every stray sound in the room, grounded and resolute. "I have decided to transfer the Nine-Tails."
Transferring the Nine-Tails meant the jinchūriki would die.
Silence.
Even the birds outside seemed frozen mid-song.
The sitting room felt sheathed in invisible ice.
They had expected it. But when Mito said it herself, Tsunade felt all the blood drain from her body.
Her heart clenched, caught in a cold, iron grip that made breathing hurt.
She clenched her fists, forcing down the sting burning behind her eyes.
Do not cry. You are the elder sister. Nawaki and Kushina are watching. You have to hold it together.
"Uwaa, Grandma. No. I do not want you to go." Kushina's tears burst like a broken dam. She flung herself at Mito, clinging to her as if to life itself, her small body shaking violently. "I will be good. I will study sealing. I will never sneak out again. Please do not leave me. I am scared."
Hot tears soaked through Mito's dark clothes in an instant.
Mito's thin but steady hands patted the trembling little back, soothing her like an infant. Her voice was gentle, helpless. "Silly child. Grandma is far too old. See, that Nine-Tails has been in me a long time, its temper has gotten bigger, and I can barely hold it down now. Let it move into your new home, hmm? It is roomier there. You will have to manage it well for me."
She brushed Kushina's wet cheeks with the pad of her thumb, the warmth tinged with aching reluctance. "Besides, your grandfather Hashirama, that old rascal, must be so bored alone in the Pure Land. If I do not go keep an eye on him, who knows what ruckus he will stir up next. Grandma has to go make sure he behaves, do you not think?"
The tone was coaxing, but the parting it carried was irreversible.
Kushina only cried harder, tears dropping like beads from a broken string. She buried her face in Mito's chest, sobbing too hard to form full sentences.
Over Kushina's quivering red hair, Mito looked to Ryo, the boy who had personally ended the Kumo spy, protected her precious granddaughter, and shown Konoha both his breadth of heart and monstrous potential.
"Ryo," she called, the weight of entrustment in her voice.
Ryo stood without a word and moved the teacup aside.
His face was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes were more focused than usual.
With a gravity that belied her frail hands, Mito gently took Kushina's small, sweaty, tear-damp fingers, then firmly, without leaving room for refusal, placed them into Ryo's broad, steady palm.
Two hands overlapped, strength and fragility meeting in one point.
Mito lifted her gaze, looking deep into Ryo's silver-gray eyes. There was no doubt there, only the most earnest plea and trust. "Promise Grandma Mito that you will take good care of our little Kushina. Guard her for a lifetime. Watch over her, keep her safe and happy as she grows up. Will you?"
The cold tremor in his palm made Ryo's heart tighten, just slightly.
He glanced down at Kushina, crying so hard she could barely breathe, then met Mito's eyes again. His lips parted. No hesitation. Each word fell like hammered iron, heavy and clear.
"I promise."
No flowery vow. Just two words.
From his mouth, they weighed a thousand pounds.
Every wrinkle on Mito's face seemed to ease at once, relief blooming quiet and deep.
She patted the back of Ryo's hand, then let go.
Her eyes moved to Nawaki. He sat like a puppet with its strings cut, head down, shoulders trembling as he tried to swallow his sobs.
Her reckless, pure-hearted grandson, whom she had watched grow up.
"Nawaki," Mito's voice brimmed with love, and a tinge of complication. "You are the one Grandma worries about most."
Her words pricked him like a needle.
Nawaki's head snapped up. His eyes were scarlet at the rims, tear tracks not yet dry.
Mito looked into those eyes so like Tobirama's and sighed. "Those three broken legs were arranged by Grandma."
"What?" Nawaki froze. The grief on his face solidified into shock as he stared at her.
"I had Ryo do it, to make you remember, in the most painful way, that the battlefield is not a game. It is not a place where you charge in shouting Will of Fire and come out covered in glory. It is a place of blood and death." Mito's tone sharpened, the final lecture of an elder pressed for time. "I do not expect you to plan like your Sensei Orochimaru. But at least use your head enough to protect yourself. Recklessness is just another word for dying. I am afraid, afraid you will end up like your grand-uncle, losing your life on some nameless patch of ground, for nothing."
Her voice caught for an instant, sinking into an old, unhealed ache.
Nawaki looked like he had been struck by lightning. The blankness and confusion on his face were drowned by a flood of shame and regret.
So those shattered bones were not Ryo's cruelty, but Grandma's heavy love and worry. He had been a fool, reckless and impulsive, nearly trampling her painstaking care.
He scrubbed a hand hard across his face. When he looked up again, his eyes still swam with tears, but now there was a steadiness there he had never had before.
He met Mito's gaze and spoke, one word at a time. "Grandma, I was wrong. I will change. I will use my head. I will protect myself. I will come back safe."
Mito smiled and nodded, ruffling his stiff, short hair.
At last, her eyes returned to Tsunade.
The proudest granddaughter of the First Hokage. Konoha's healer-saint.
She sat ramrod straight, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a stubborn line, fighting to keep the tears from spilling.
But the faint tremble of her shoulders betrayed the storm inside.
"Tsunade," Mito softened her voice to a caress, filled with reluctance and apology. "Do not mind Grandma nagging. My temper has always been too quick, I never managed to teach you how to tame that firecracker temper of yours. I worry, that there will be no one left to help you rein it in."
Tsunade bit her lower lip hard. A heavy sourness surged up her nose. She blinked rapidly, forcing the dampness back.
"How I wish, I could stay with you a few more years," Mito murmured, voice soaked with affection. "To see you wear white and marry with splendor, to see you find someone who truly cherishes you, accepts your temper, and protects you, but Grandma does not have the blessing. I will not be there to see it."
"Grandma." Tsunade finally could not hold it anymore. Her voice cracked as she cut in, terrified that another word would shatter her. "I will not marry. I just, I just want to stay with you forever. Like when I was little."
She straightened her back with effort, but the reddening corners of her eyes and the tremor in her voice gave her away.
Mito looked at her brave front and smiled, like a mother indulging a willful child. "Silly girl."
The time that followed felt like they had forgotten the coming farewell. Like any ordinary family, they sat together.
Mito spoke slowly, telling stories of Kushina as a toddler. Of the time Nawaki first refined chakra and flipped over from excitement. Of Tsunade's first wall shattered by monstrous strength, and the guilty, secretly proud face she had made after.
Nawaki chimed in with red-rimmed eyes, trying to keep things lively. Kushina leaned against Mito, sometimes giggling through hiccups, mostly clutching her hand as if never to let go. Tsunade listened quietly, a tender smile at her lips, gaze never leaving Mito's face, memorizing every expression. Only where no one could see did her clenched knuckles betray the torment inside.
Ryo sat beside Kushina in silence, listening to the tapestry of memories and goodbyes, like a steadfast shadow.
Sunlight shifted across the wooden floor through the lattice window. The tea was refilled several times. The pastries had long gone cold.
When the sunlight finally crept to the edge of the low table, Mito gently patted Kushina's shoulder where it rested against her.
No matter how long, every farewell must be said.
There were no more reminders left to give.
Mito simply looked around one last time. Her warm gaze lingered on each young face, Nawaki's forced strength, Tsunade's hidden grief, Kushina's swollen, clinging eyes.
At last, she smiled and rose.
In the Senju sitting room, a long, voiceless quiet settled.
In the slanting sun, fine dust hung motionless in the air, as if time itself had stilled, sealing this thick, unyielding sorrow of parting within the space called home, pressing heavy on every heart.
The pillar of Konoha for an era was, at last, laying down her burden.
(To be continued.)
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◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)