Uchiha Makoto's simple question struck straight at Uzumaki Mito's heart.
Weren't we just chatting pleasantly?
I even gave you a precious secret technique as a wedding gift.
Uchiha Makoto, why are you suddenly attacking me—and with such a vicious method… what was Tobirama's catchphrase again?
So the Uchiha brats are evil by nature after all.
Uzumaki Mito fell briefly silent.
The air turned awkward.
She was thinking how to answer Makoto's question.
Those few seconds felt like years. She desperately wanted to answer firmly at once: "Yes. Hashirama loves me with all his heart."
But that was only a beautiful fantasy.
Reality was cold.
Mito knew the truth in her bones. She could fool others, not herself. Deep down, her husband Senju Hashirama still had someone else.
At times…
She couldn't help imagining: if that bastard Uchiha Madara were a woman, would Hashirama really cheat, disregard her dignity and their peaceful family, even throw away the bond between the Uzumaki and Senju, and cast her aside?
The very thought hurt.
Would he?
Wouldn't he?
She didn't dare think further. She truly feared the answer, and could only secretly be thankful that Madara was a man.
Her thoughts snapped back.
Faced with such a question—
For Konoha's sake and her own face, she could not answer with a no. So Mito forced a smile and replied to Makoto: "Of course."
"Ah, that's wonderful."
"I truly envy the love between you two."
Makoto said the words, but his eyes caught the strain and bitterness behind her smile. He didn't believe her.
This was merely a woman's sad tenacity.
Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama—rivals and dearest friends—had been torn apart by their fathers and clan hatred when young, forced to fight on as adult clan heads, and now at last fought through all obstacles to reconcile and make whole what was broken.
What a perfect script for a male and female lead.
If only one of them were a woman, the ninja world might have been spared so many tragedies. But they were both men.
And that did nothing to change Mito's cold bench.
Right now Hashirama and Madara were likely in a rare honeymoon phase. If the naturally malicious old ghost Tobirama hadn't stirred the pot, Madara might not have left Konoha so decisively to walk the path of the Eye of the Moon.
In short—
Mito's days at home could not be easy. Especially their married life.
"Lady Mito, could you tell me how you and Lord Hashirama get along day to day? I want to learn from your marriage. This is a rare chance."
Makoto pressed on. It wasn't some twisted hobby.
It was—
He had an idea. Tied to earlier plans, the woman before him was the perfect pioneer for women's rights. In Konoha, no one fit better.
She was powerful, held high status in the village, had once been a famed kunoichi, and in the household she was neglected, grieving like an abandoned wife.
Awaken Mito's sense of female independence, and it would blaze like wildfire.
Most importantly, with Mito as a shield, he could drive a cultural infiltration for years with ease and fewer scruples.
Even Tobirama couldn't crack down by force.
Not only because of Mito's identity—
But because the banner of women's awakening and independence was no monster.
By current custom in the ninja world—
After marriage and childbirth, kunoichi usually quit the profession and return to the home, like Uzumaki Kushina, Uchiha Mikoto, Hyūga Hinata, Temari. Almost all did.
Only rarely were there exceptions.
Like Tsunade.
She never married. The one she loved died in war. The one who loved her was a shameless dog she couldn't stand. She embraced a comfortable single life.
That habit isn't bad. It's a personal choice.
But this custom—kunoichi quitting after marriage—has indeed reduced the number of shinobi and combatants.
Training a capable shinobi costs dearly. Tools, training grounds, medicine—money everywhere. If a kunoichi quits upon marriage, the investment goes to zero.
How could that stand?
Makoto would never do a losing trade. This stale custom had to go.
A new era required new air.
He wasn't worried about reform resistance in Amegakure. The Ninja Academy had solved that. Once graduates stepped out, a single command sent them to the field.
Amegakure's shinobi would be fully professional. A day sworn to the Light Shadow was a lifetime sworn to the Light Shadow.
But in Konoha—
He couldn't touch it directly, only reshape it from the sides.
If Uzumaki Mito raised the banner of female independence, calling sisters to cast off tradition, break family shackles, and devote themselves to their careers, then even if it bucked custom, many kunoichi would heed her and return to the battle line.
Even Tobirama, that born-evil old ghost, would have to hold his tongue. More capable kunoichi meant more missions completed, stronger village competitiveness.
A benefit stuffed straight into his mouth.
Of course—
This was only step one.
No one starts with the ultimate move.
The textile women of Amegakure were diligent. Each cherished the hard-won stability of her job, some even working while raising children.
Why did it sour later?
Because there are always bad actors among the masses. Guiding people to good is hard. Teaching them bad is easy, free, and responsibility-free. Some garbage always wants something for nothing.
For now, take the essence and leave the dregs. Feed Konoha something good. Let it seep in. At the key moment—
Detonate it.
Even so, the blast might be weaker than what Makoto had seen before. A ninja village is a military organization, and the next Hokage was the naturally malicious Tobirama. He would drag any rear-line rabble-rouser to the front as fodder.
Makoto's mind turned. Though scheming, his eyes still shone as he asked Mito for the secrets of marriage.
Mito's throat worked. She swallowed.
The question stumped her.
If she knew the secret, she'd have Hashirama wrapped around her finger. Forget seeing Madara daily—an occasional meeting would be barred in advance.
Looking at Makoto's earnest, knowledge-hungry gaze, she forced her mind into a storm, searching for an answer. Her man was being stolen by that damned Madara.
No—already stolen. Hashirama was leaving on missions with Madara without even greeting her.
"Let me think. First, I handle the housework every day. I make meals and wait at home for Hashirama to return. No matter how busy he is, he comes back to dine with me, and at night we…"
She pivoted fast. Since she had no "secret," she would describe the beautiful married life she imagined.
Makoto couldn't verify it, so he'd have no grounds to doubt her.
"I've learned so much."
Makoto nodded appreciatively—then swerved the topic where Mito never expected. "Lady Mito, do you always handle housework at home like this?"
"Yes. What's the problem?"
She nodded.
It didn't strike her as strange. The women around her had all done the same: shinobi in youth, then quitting after marriage to keep house and raise children.
It was always so.
"The problem is huge."
"This is a backward Warring States mindset. In the era of ninja villages, outstanding, strong, progressive kunoichi must break free from family shackles, pour their energy into their careers, and dedicate their lives to the village."
Makoto's tone rose, righteous and firm. Something stirred in Mito's heart. She wanted to hear more.
Her days were bland. House chores couldn't soothe her loneliness.
"Break tradition."
"Find your true self."
"A truly excellent kunoichi never drowns in petty love. Forcing her into household drudgery the moment she marries is a crime.
"She should seek higher, better goals, find her life's value, build her own cause, and bring prosperity to the village."
He preached scripture, ladling warm, nourishing chicken soup into Mito's stomach, a spring pouring into her long-parched heart.
Her eyes grew brighter. Her blood ran hot. She seemed to see her path.
How could she live mediocre?
Was this the life she wanted?
For her clan's future she chose a political marriage with Hashirama. After the wedding she worked to tend the home, to bear children for him. And what had she received?
Did Hashirama love her?
Did he see her daily efforts?
It seemed not.
She could not force herself to say yes.
One talk worth ten years of study.
Makoto's words hit home. She felt her life dull and trivial, the rest of it visible at a glance. She couldn't find a way to break the game. Hashirama's heart had been stolen by that bastard Madara.
Now she awakened.
It was the old Warring States tradition that bound her.
An excellent kunoichi should break old chains, pursue her life bravely, pursue independence.
She was a once-in-a-generation Uzumaki prodigy, not Senju Hashirama's appendage.
"Wonderfully said."
Mito's cheeks flushed.
Fired by Makoto's broth, she no longer wanted the boring, trifling life. She would live for herself.
Defying convention, breaking shackles, and the chill of Hashirama's daily indifference braided together into a rebellious, unspeakable thrill.
"Lady Mito truly is exceptional. To see it so quickly. The new era has arrived. The old habits belong in the trash. With kunoichi like you, the future of kunoichi will surely be bright."
Makoto poured on the praise without stint. Even he was surprised how easily she was convinced. A love-starved woman is fearsome.
"You flatter me."
"I should thank you, Lord Light Shadow. Without today's words from you… I might have sunk into loneliness forever."
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