Reiji followed Kushina up the narrow wooden staircase in silence, the boards creaking faintly under their steps. The house was quiet in that particular way old places often were—every sound softened by thick walls and long years of habitation. The smell of herbs drifted faintly through the corridor above, bitter and medicinal, mixing with the scent of old paper and polished wood.

  Why did her grandmother want to see him?

  The question had been circling in his mind since Kushina had dragged him inside the house. Reiji could make a few guesses, but none of them were particularly comforting.

  “I don’t know,” Kushina said suddenly, glancing over her shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs. She sounded defensive, as if she had sensed the question hanging behind him. “I told her I came back with a classmate who was wounded. She asked for your name, so I told her.” Her eyes slid toward him from the corner, sharp and curious. “After that she told me to bring you to her. Do you have any idea why?”

  Reiji did.

  Or at least he had a fairly good suspicion what hearing his name had done.

  “No idea,” he replied calmly.

  Kushina’s brows drew together immediately. She studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, then huffed in irritation and turned forward again. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

  “I don’t want to tell you.”

  Her head snapped back around and the glare she sent him could have stripped bark off a tree.

  They walked the last stretch of the corridor without speaking. The house grew quieter the farther they went, until even the sounds of the street outside faded away. At the very end stood a single sliding door, plain and closed, its wooden frame polished smooth by age.

  Reiji felt himself straighten slightly before he even realized it.

  Kushina stopped in front of the door and turned toward him, her face suddenly serious.

  “Don’t you dare talk rashly in front of Grandma,” she whispered sharply. “If you do, I’ll finish you.”

  Reiji’s mouth twitched.

  “Noted,” he said lightly. “I never disrespect my elders.”

  Kushina stared at him for several seconds, clearly trying to determine whether that answer was genuine or mockery. Eventually she let out a slow breath, as if deciding she had no better options, and raised her hand to knock.

  “Grandmother,” she called through the door. “It’s me. Reiji is here.”

  A moment passed.

  Then a voice answered from inside, dry and rasping but steady.

  “You may enter.”

  Kushina slid the door open and stepped aside. Reiji followed her into the room.

  The smell struck him immediately.

  Medicinal herbs. Bitter and sharp, strong enough to sting the back of his nose. The scent mingled with old paper and lacquered wood, the kind of smell that clung to rooms where people spent long hours reading or recovering from illness.

  The room itself was simple but carefully maintained. A low table sat beside a raised bed against the far wall. On the table rested a steaming cup that carried most of the herbal scent. Shelves lined one side of the room, filled with scrolls and books stacked with quiet precision.

  And sitting upright against the pillows was an old woman.

  She held a book open in both hands.

  At first glance she looked old—truly old. Not the exaggerated frailty of legend, but the natural wear of someone who had simply lived longer than most people ever did. Deep lines marked her face, and her gray hair had been gathered into two familiar buns, with the rest falling down her back in a thick curtain.

  Yet something about her presence refused to match the fragility of the body.

  On her forehead, unmistakable even from the doorway, rested a diamond-shaped mark.

  Her eyes lifted from the page.

  They were violet.

  The same shade Reiji had seen before—Tsukiko’s eyes—but sharper somehow. Clearer. Too awake for someone meant to be nearing the end of her life.

  She smiled warmly when she saw him.

  “Hello, young Reiji,” she said gently. “Thank you for coming, despite the suddenness. I won’t take much of your time.”

  Reiji inclined his head slightly, careful with his posture as he observed her. Frail, his instincts noted immediately. The arms were thin, the shoulders narrow.

  But the eyes…

  The eyes belonged to someone who had watched kingdoms rise and fall.

  “Don’t worry,” Reiji replied evenly. “It’s an honor to meet the First Hokage’s wife in person.”

  Beside him, Kushina shot him a surprised look.

  Mito chuckled softly, a low amused sound.

  “Kukuku. A perceptive young one.”

  “It’s nothing,” Reiji said with a small shrug. “There aren’t many people old enough to have lived alongside the Senju. And when an Uzumaki calls you ‘Grandmother’…”

  Mito nodded, clearly pleased by the reasoning.

  “I see. Logical enough.” A faint smile lingered on her lips as she set the book aside with deliberate care. “Being remembered only as Hashirama’s wife by the younger generation… I suppose I can accept that.”

  Her gaze returned to him.

  “My name is Mito Uzumaki. It is nice to meet you.”

  The violet eyes sharpened slightly.

  “Homura Reiji. Correct?”

  Reiji nodded once.

  “Kushina speaks of you,” Mito continued.

  “Oh really?” Reiji replied mildly.

  “Grandma!” Kushina blurted, her voice rising in alarm.

  Mito waved a dismissive hand without even looking at her. “It’s nothing, child. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  Reiji turned his head just enough to see Kushina’s face.

  It was bright red.

  He kept his own expression perfectly innocent.

  Mito noticed the reaction immediately. Her eyes flicked to him and the smile on her face grew just a little more knowing.

  “She speaks of you often,” the old woman added calmly.

  Kushina made a strangled sound somewhere between outrage and humiliation.

  “Grandma—”

  Mito ignored her entirely.

  “She says you’re quite handsome,” she continued, voice pleasantly conversational, “and quite unpleasant.”

  Kushina looked ready to disappear through the floor.

  “Stop!”

  Reiji did not laugh. He only allowed the faintest hint of amusement to touch the corner of his mouth—a polite curve that somehow made the situation worse.

  Mito studied him for a moment, clearly entertained.

  “You shouldn’t be ashamed, Kushina,” she said gently. “I can already tell he will grow into a strapping young man.”

  Her violet eyes glittered with quiet mischief.

  “Perhaps even more than my late husband.”

  Kushina said nothing.

  She simply covered her burning face with both hands, her ears turning an even deeper shade of red.

  Reiji tilted his head slightly, the faint smile that had lingered on his face fading as the conversation drifted away from Kushina’s embarrassment. The playful tone of the room no longer held his interest, and the quiet weight of Mito’s gaze made the air feel heavier than it had a moment ago.

  “Not to say this isn’t entertaining,” he said at last, voice calm but edged with impatience, “but is there a reason you asked me here? Or did you only want to meet Kushina’s classmate?”

  Mito nodded once, as if she had expected the question.

  “I wanted to meet you, yes.” Her eyes remained fixed on him, studying his posture, the set of his shoulders, the tension in the way he held his arms at his sides. “Kushina and Nawaki speak highly of your talent. Is that true?”

  Reiji didn’t hesitate.

  “It is.”

  Mito hummed quietly, as if storing the answer somewhere among many older thoughts. Then her expression softened, though the sharpness in her gaze never quite disappeared.

  “Good. Then take care of Kushina and Nawaki, will you? You may not be socially inclined, but it warms me to see you speaking to each other.” She paused, the faintest smile touching her lips. “You are family, after all.”

  Reiji’s eyes rolled before he could stop them.

  “With respect, Mito-sama…” he said, letting out a quiet breath through his nose. “I only have one family. My father. Nothing more.”

  Mito blinked.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, genuine surprise coloring her voice. “Nawaki and you are distant cousins. Did you not know?”

  Reiji went completely still.

  The words hung in the air like something misplaced.

  “What…?” His voice came out flatter than he intended. “Me and Nawaki?”

  “Yes.” Mito leaned forward slightly, studying him more carefully now. “Your grandmother was a Senju, no?”

  Reiji’s eyes shifted away.

  “I… don’t talk about that much with my father.”

  Mito’s expression tightened.

  “He didn’t tell you?” she asked quietly. “Not even your grandfather?”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Reiji’s shoulders stiffened.

  “I don’t see my grandfather.”

  For several seconds Mito simply watched him. The compassion that slowly appeared in her eyes wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was quiet, and somehow that made it worse.

  “Kushina,” she said gently, without taking her gaze off Reiji, “leave us for a few minutes, please.”

  Kushina blinked. “Huh? But why?”

  “Something private.”

  Kushina hesitated, clearly unhappy with being dismissed, but she nodded eventually. Before leaving she shot Reiji a sharp warning look, the kind that promised consequences if he said something stupid.

  Reiji only shrugged.

  She stepped outside and slid the door closed behind her.

  The room fell into silence.

  “I didn’t know it was this bad,” Mito said softly. “If I had, I would have spoken differently. You have my apologies.”

  Reiji blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity.

  “What are you apologizing for?” he asked. “You couldn’t have known. And you couldn’t have done anything about it.”

  Mito exhaled slowly, the sound carrying a fatigue that seemed deeper than age.

  “I know your grandfather well enough,” she said. “For him, the village is everything… and pride sits close behind it.”

  Her gaze lingered on Reiji.

  “But he listened to me once. I should have said something then.”

  Reiji said nothing.

  “I know it is difficult,” Mito continued, “to grow in this village with the knowledge of what happened. Of what your father did.”

  Reiji’s posture locked, every muscle in his shoulders tightening.

  “But it should also be proof,” she added quietly, “that your father loves you, even if your grandfather cannot accept it.”

  Reiji’s throat tightened.

  “Why does it matter why my father did it?” he asked, voice rougher now. “It doesn’t change the fact that I’m here. That I’m a mistake he can’t remove.”

  Mito watched him carefully.

  “Hiruzen does not resent you,” she said. “He would never place blame on a child who had no control over it. He isn’t cruel like that.”

  Reiji looked up.

  “But my father—?”

  “Your father…” Mito paused, weighing her words carefully. “It is difficult, yes. But Hiruzen understands him. And you being here with him should be proof of that.”

  Reiji lowered his gaze again, jaw tight.

  “I know,” he muttered. “That doesn’t make it easy.”

  “I know,” Mito replied softly, and regret lingered in her voice. “And knowing that pains me to do this. But I must.”

  Reiji looked up again.

  “Kushina told me what happened today,” Mito said calmly. “Tell me, young Reiji—why don’t you get along with your classmates?”

  The change in topic struck him harder than he expected.

  The room felt smaller.

  For a moment he couldn’t decide what kind of question this was.

  Concern.

  Curiosity.

  Or judgment.

  The weight behind it reminded him uncomfortably of standing before the Hokage’s desk.

  “I… don’t know,” he said slowly. “No specific reason. We just don’t get along.”

  Mito watched him for a long time.

  Then she said quietly,

  “You should stop.”

  Reiji frowned.

  “Stop what?”

  Mito didn’t raise her voice.

  “I’ve lived long enough,” she said, “to recognize the difference between defense… and malice.”

  Her gaze remained steady.

  “And I can feel which one was in you today.”

  Reiji’s jaw set.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do.”

  “I defended myself,” he snapped, sharper now. “A group jumped me, and one of them was crazy enough to slash me with a kunai. Are you giving me a sermon for not letting myself get stabbed?”

  Mito didn’t flinch.

  “You speak as if that isn’t what you wanted in the first place.”

  Reiji froze.

  Reiji’s breath stopped for half a second before he realized it had. His fingers tightened slowly at his sides, nails pressing into his palms.

  For a brief moment his mind went completely blank, the way it sometimes did when someone struck too close to the truth.

  Mito’s expression remained calm.

  “It’s strange speaking with you,” she continued. “You sound mature for your age. Intelligent.” Her fingers rested lightly on the blanket. “And yet you don’t seem aware of your own nature.”

  Reiji forced himself to breathe.

  His chest felt tight.

  “I expected better from Mito Uzumaki,” he said quietly. “Bashing a child without mercy.”

  Mito’s lips curved faintly.

  “You aren’t a child in the way most children are,” she replied. “I’ve seen those eyes before. Some only gain them after battle.”

  Reiji’s hands curled at his sides before slowly loosening again.

  Mito leaned back against her pillows.

  “Answer me one thing,” she said. “If Kushina and Nawaki hadn’t stopped that boy today… what would you have done?”

  “Defend myself.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Reiji narrowed his eyes.

  “What did you want to do?” Mito continued. “If no one had interrupted you—where would you have stopped?”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “When you fight,” she said softly, “do you want to win… or do you want to feel something?”

  The question lingered in the now quiet room.

  Reiji didn’t answer.

  His eyes dropped to the floorboards for a moment, following the grain of the wood without really seeing it.

  Reiji remained still for several seconds.

  Then he lifted his head.

  “What do you ask if you already know the answer?” he said, scorn sharpening his voice. “You’ve spoken to me for minutes and you’re already talking like you’ve grasped my whole being. Are you always like this?”

  His stomach tightened.

  The words came anyway.

  “I almost pity the First Hokage. Winning wars just to lose his peace to you.”

  Mito chuckled quietly.

  “Perhaps,” she said lightly. “Hashirama was always easy to push around.”

  The amusement faded slightly from her eyes.

  “Why did you come to this house tonight?”

  Reiji scowled.

  “Nawaki said his mother could heal me.” He looked away. “Now I know I shouldn’t have listened.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Mito said.

  “Don’t,” Reiji snapped. “You’re just one of many who will say it.”

  “By your fault,” she asked calmly, “or not?”

  “Both.”

  His shoulders tightened.

  “I can’t stand people. Especially people like you—who think you know everything because you’re old, or because your bloodline is prestigious.” His gaze hardened. “Don’t be arrogant just because you shared a roof with the First. Old goat.”

  Mito watched him quietly, the sadness in her expression sincere rather than offended.

  “I pity you, child.”

  Reiji let out a short, humorless laugh.

  “What did you think that would do? Saying that to me?”

  “I’m not surprised,” Mito replied calmly. “But you still haven’t answered honestly.”

  Her eyes held his.

  “Why did you come here tonight? Why didn’t you go to the hospital… or home?”

  Reiji hesitated.

  “Because I didn’t want my father to worry.”

  For a brief moment Mito’s gaze softened.

  Then the softness vanished.

  “That answer is human,” she said. “But it isn’t whole.”

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “You didn’t come here only to spare your father. You came here because you thought this house would change something.”

  Reiji stared at her.

  “Everyone wants something from someone else,” he said flatly. “Friendship is the same. Why is that a problem?”

  “Because what you want isn’t friendship,” Mito replied. “I told you already.”

  Her voice remained gentle.

  But it carried weight.

  “I can sense malice in people. Call it an Uzumaki trait if you wish. I’ve grown attuned to it.”

  Reiji’s head lifted slightly. He studied her face, searching for any sign that she was joking.

  “Malice?”

  Her gaze didn’t leave him.

  “And you, boy…” Mito said quietly. “You feel no warmth toward my grandchildren.”

  Her gaze did not move.

  “Not toward Kushina. Not toward Nawaki.”

  She paused slightly.

  “You’re simply using them.”

  Reiji scoffed.

  “You really are crazy. I never wanted them harmed. What are you talking about?”

  “Perhaps not harm,” Mito said. “But not good, either.”

  Reiji shook his head.

  “You’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

  Mito didn’t react.

  “You have my apologies,” she said quietly. “I wanted this discussion to be different. Perhaps it could have been, if I’d had time.”

  Her fingers settled on the blanket.

  “But you’re right about one thing. I don’t have much time left. So I needed to say it before it was too late.”

  Reiji’s expression hardened.

  “One thing you got right,” he said. “It is too late.”

  He stood.

  He hated that she sounded disappointed rather than angry.

  He crossed the room and slid the door open.

  “I hope we don’t meet again,” he added without turning around. “From what I see, it won’t be difficult.”

  Behind him Mito’s voice followed, quiet but final.

  “If you cannot see Kushina and Nawaki as friends… and not as means to an end… then do not become closer to them, please.”

  Reiji didn’t answer.

  He stepped out and shut the door.

  The wood struck the frame with a sharp, echoing bang.

  ---

  He didn’t remember what he had said to Kushina and the others before leaving. The words had blurred into noise the moment he stepped outside, already dissolving into something shapeless, as if his mind refused to hold onto them.

  He only realized where his feet had carried him when the trees thinned and the wind struck his face.

  The cliff overlooking the Hokage Monument stretched out beneath the night sky, the massive stone faces carved into the mountain watching over the sleeping village like silent judges. The air was colder up here. Wind moved freely along the ridge, rushing up the slope of the mountain and tugging at his hair, snapping softly at the loose sleeves of his kimono.

  Reiji walked toward the edge without really deciding to.

  The dark outline of the monument loomed beside him, the four Hokage gazing endlessly over the rooftops of Konoha. Lanterns glowed faintly between the streets below, scattered like small islands of gold in the dark.

  ‘What the fuck does she think she is?’

  The thought surfaced sharp and hot.

  He wanted this? He wanted that waste of space to jump him? To wound him?

  Don’t make him laugh.

  He had defended himself. That was all. He hadn’t stabbed anyone. He hadn’t ambushed anyone. The boy had tried to carve him open with a kunai and he had beaten him for it—fair and square.

  If the brat couldn’t stand that, too bad.

  If he wanted respect, he could train until he earned it.

  Until then he was nothing.

  A weakling with a loud mouth and soft hands.

  Reiji’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer to the cliff’s edge, gravel crunching softly under his sandals.

  And that woman—Mito Uzumaki—had spoken to him for a few minutes and already decided what he was.

  He had restrained himself in that house.

  Stayed polite.

  Even when she spoke like she understood him.

  As if she understood anything.

  The wind surged harder across the ridge, carrying with it the distant smell of the village below—wood smoke, cooking fires, damp earth, and the faint scent of the forest that surrounded Konoha on every side.

  From this height the village looked small.

  Roofs formed uneven clusters of shadow and lantern light. Narrow streets wound between them like dark veins. People moved down there somewhere, tiny shapes drifting through warm rooms and quiet houses, their lives distant and quiet.

  Reiji stared down at it.

  ‘You’ve spoken to me for minutes and you think you understand me.’

  The anger in his chest twisted slowly, tightening into something colder and more focused.

  He had lived his entire life inside the village’s quiet disdain.

  Sometimes it wasn’t even spoken aloud.

  It was simply there.

  In the way voices dropped when he passed.

  In the way doors closed a little faster.

  In the way smiles stiffened.

  He was used to it.

  But hearing it from her—Hashirama Senju’s wife, one of the founders of the village itself—landed differently.

  It stung.

  ‘No’, he corrected himself immediately.

  ‘Don’t feel anything.’

  She didn’t know him.

  And he didn’t know her.

  She is nothing.

  A question surfaced in his mind, unwelcome and quiet.

  ‘Do you fight to win… or to feel something?’

  Reiji let out a slow breath.

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  ‘What a stupid question.’

  The wind surged again, stronger this time, slamming against his chest and tugging at the ends of his hair like invisible hands trying to drag him forward.

  He stepped closer to the edge.

  Closer still.

  Until his toes extended past the edge and empty air opened beneath them.

  Then he turned his back to the drop.

  The stone ridge was narrow beneath his feet, the edge sharp and unforgiving. Reiji slowly spread his arms, adjusting his balance the way a shinobi did when testing unstable footing—shifting weight from heel to toe, feeling how the stone responded beneath his sandals.

  The wind pressed harder against his chest.

  He leaned back.

  And stepped.

  The ground vanished.

  For a single heartbeat there was nothing beneath him.

  The sky stretched wide above, black and endless, filled with distant stars.

  Then gravity took him.

  The wind roared upward along the cliff face and struck him with brutal force. His stomach lurched violently as the world dropped away beneath him, the sudden fall wrenching the breath from his lungs. His kimono snapped violently in the rushing air while the cliff and forest blurred past in streaks of shadow and stone.

  He fell fast.

  Too fast.

  But for a few seconds he did nothing.

  His body hung suspended in the open air, the world roaring past him as gravity dragged him downward.

  Weightless.

  Free.

  The anger that had burned in his chest moments ago vanished in the violent rush of wind and speed. Mito’s voice, the argument, the humiliation—everything dissolved beneath the raw sensation of falling.

  For those few seconds there was only motion.

  Only air.

  Only the cold emptiness of the sky.

  And for the briefest moment he felt something close to peace.

  Then instinct snapped back into place.

  Reiji twisted sharply in midair.

  His shoulders rotated first, hips following as he forced his body to pivot against the rushing wind. The sky vanished from view as he turned, the cliff face surging into his vision beside him. Stone streaked past in a blur—jagged outcroppings, cracks in the rock, thin roots clinging stubbornly to the mountainside.

  His mind sharpened instantly.

  Now.

  Chakra surged through his body, flowing down through his legs in a controlled pulse. He forced it into his feet the same way he had practiced countless times on trees and training posts.

  But this wasn’t a tree.

  And he was falling much faster.

  He slammed both feet into the vertical stone.

  The impact exploded through his bones like a hammer strike.

  His sandals scraped violently against the rock as chakra flared outward, trying to anchor him to the cliff face. The contact held for only a fraction of a second before gravity tore him downward again, friction screaming beneath his feet as loose dirt and fragments of stone burst outward.

  Too much momentum.

  His body dropped again.

  Reiji reacted immediately.

  He threw his hands forward.

  Both palms struck the rock.

  Pain erupted instantly as the rough surface tore into his skin. Chakra surged through his arms, snapping into place the same way it had in his feet, forcing his hands to cling to the stone.

  For a moment he was half-attached, half-sliding.

  Gravity dragged him downward while chakra fought to hold him in place. His sandals scraped harshly against the cliff as his feet struggled to maintain contact, friction burning through the fabric and leather.

  His arms trembled violently.

  The strain tore through his shoulders and back as his muscles locked under the sudden force. His teeth clenched hard enough to make his jaw ache while his fingers dug against the rock, trying to stabilize the flow of chakra before his grip collapsed entirely.

  The fall slowed.

  Slowly.

  The violent plunge softened into a grinding slide along the cliff face. His feet adjusted instinctively, shifting position as he redirected the flow of chakra through his legs. His palms dragged against the stone, leaving dark smears of blood as the friction continued to tear at his skin.

  The roaring wind faded.

  The blur of the ground below stopped rushing upward.

  He slowed.

  Slowed further.

  And finally stopped.

  Reiji hung there against the cliff face, chest rising and falling as he pressed his hands and feet against the vertical stone. His body trembled faintly with the aftershock of the fall, adrenaline and effort still burning through his muscles.

  For several seconds he did nothing but breathe.

  Cold night air burned in his lungs.

  When he looked down he saw blood smeared across his palms where the skin had split open against the rock. His sandals were partially torn from the violent friction, dark scuff marks staining the stone beneath his feet.

  And then—without meaning to—he smiled.

  ‘So that old goat doesn’t want me getting close to the tomato-head and the Senju brat…’

  The smile widened slowly.

  ‘Perfect.’

  Now he wanted to do it even more.

  A/N : Poor Reiji...

  I swear this scene was supposed to be a normal conversation… but Mito decided to dismantle Reiji instead.

  Anyway, thanks for reading!

  I’d love to hear your reactions to this chapter. The next one should arrive in a few days.

  And if you want to read a few chapters ahead, you can check my Patreon (TheSoulfrost).