Chapter 7: The Spider's Web
The Yotsuki clan, his mother's people, had thrived for generations in the harsh, cloud-piercing peaks of the Land of Lightning. To survive in such an unforgiving environment, they had to be forged of sterner stuff than most. Their bodies were their greatest assets, honed by altitude and hardship. The physical form was the vessel of Yang Release, and Takumi theorized that his natural affinity for it was a direct inheritance from his Yotsuki blood. A stronger body contained greater vitality, which in turn granted enhanced natural recovery. They likely couldn't match the legendary life force of the Senju or Uzumaki clans, but it was a significant advantage nonetheless.
When a reasonable amount of time had passed and he was certain he wasn't under direct observation, Takumi stretched and feigned a need to use the washroom. Once the door was locked behind him, he retrieved the small, folded note from his pocket.
It was an unremarkable slip of paper, no larger than two of his fingernails. In plain, un-coded script—a deliberate choice, he assumed, considering he was a child who hadn't yet learned complex ciphers—was a simple message: "Yotsuki Takumi, no matter the circumstances, you are one of our people in Kumogakure. The village's gates will always be open to you."
He flipped the paper over. An address was written there, belonging to a seemingly ordinary shop in the village.
The location of a Kumo spy safehouse, he deduced. An offering. A line thrown to a potential asset.
With a calm, deliberate motion, he tore the note into tiny, unreadable pieces. As the shreds of paper fluttered into the toilet bowl, he watched the ink begin to blur and vanish upon contact with the water—a simple, effective security measure. He flushed, his expression impassive as the evidence was swept away into the sewers beneath Konoha.
Kumogakure had realized their blunder. They had let an Uchiha slip through their fingers, and now regret was driving this clumsy, desperate attempt at contact. But Konoha was not the weakened village it would become in the future, a Konoha from which Kumo would feel bold enough to kidnap a Hyuga princess. That Konoha had been reeling from the White Fang's suicide, the Fourth Hokage's death, the self-exile of the Sannin, and the devastation of the Nine-Tails' attack. This Konoha, while strained, was still a powerhouse. The Hidden Cloud Village was strong, but not strong enough for such overt aggression.
The address on the note was their show of "sincerity." It was a test. Takumi could, at any moment, report this location to Konoha's authorities and be rewarded for his loyalty. Conversely, he could use it as a channel to extract resources from Kumo, or even as a potential escape route back to the Land of Lightning.
Returning to Kumo, however, was a last resort, an option he would only consider if his situation in Konoha became utterly untenable. Life in the Hidden Cloud would mean trading one cage for another. He would be a specimen, constantly monitored, controlled, and studied. They wouldn't necessarily dissect him, but they would undoubtedly take samples of his blood and cells, again and again, draining him slowly to fuel their own research. Worse, they would likely see him as a breeding stud, a means to propagate the Uchiha bloodline within their own ranks. His body would be exhausted within a few years, his freedom and potential sacrificed.
He had his own interests, his own desires, but he had no wish to be treated as livestock, his will stripped away for the sake of a village that saw him as a resource and not a person. Kumo would never allow him to grow truly powerful, to a point where he could threaten their control. He would be a prized bull, and his offspring would be raised as loyal, brainwashed weapons for Kumogakure.
Here in Konoha, despite the looming threat of the Uchiha's grim future, he still had opportunities. He could learn, he could train, he could grow stronger. Everything in the world had a price. To gain something, one had to sacrifice something else. Life was a continuous series of choices, and for now, the scales tipped in favor of staying in the Leaf, where he had more time and a better chance to build the power he needed to survive.
"Takumi, are you home?"
The familiar voice from outside his door pulled him from his calculations. It was Mikoto. He knew this was part of the investigation, likely prompted by Root. He quickly splashed water on his face, ensuring he looked presentable and that no trace of his clandestine activity remained. After a quick check in the mirror, he slid the door open, his wooden geta clacking softly against the floor.
The Uchiha compound was a world unto itself within Konoha, and Takumi had been assigned a modest, somewhat worn-down house. Its only virtue was space.
"Mikoto-sama," he said, his voice carrying a note of respectful timidity. He was a ninja academy student facing a Jonin; he had to project the appropriate level of wariness and deference. Even with two lifetimes of experience, revealing an unnatural calm would be a fatal mistake. Sometimes, the best disguise was a carefully performed weakness.
"Takumi, you don't need to be so formal with me," Mikoto said with a soft chuckle. Am I really that intimidating? she wondered, looking at his seemingly nervous posture.
Takumi kept his head slightly bowed, his short black hair obscuring the true neutrality of his expression. "As you say... Mikoto-san," he replied, using the less formal address as instructed.
Mikoto nodded, then gestured to the figure standing behind her—a kunoichi dressed in the standard attire of a medical-nin. The woman had a sturdy, matronly build, but her face was etched with a profound, lingering sadness that seemed at odds with her physical presence.
"This is Yakushi Nono, a captain in the Konoha Medical Corps."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Takumi-kun. I'm Yakushi Nono," she said, her smile not quite reaching her weary eyes. "I'm here to follow up on the condition of your eye."
"Of course. Please, come in," Takumi said, stepping aside to let the two women enter.
He led them to the main room where a low table sat on the tatami-matted floor. Excusing himself, he went to the kitchen, retrieved a stool to reach the cupboard, and pulled out a bag of inexpensive tea. He boiled water and prepared two cups with a quiet, methodical focus.
Yakushi Nono watched the thin boy move about, a pang of pity stirring in her heart. Her work with Root had stained her hands and soul, immersing her in the darkness that festered beneath the village's bright facade. It was why she found such solace in children. They were like unblemished pieces of jade, their potential still pure and full of light.
"Your tea," Takumi said, placing the two steaming cups on the table before taking a seat opposite them.
"Thank you," they both murmured. Mikoto took a polite sip of the cheap, bitter tea. Nono lifted her cup, her gaze never leaving Takumi.
Pity was one thing, but duty was another. Her green eyes, magnified by her round glasses, carefully observed every minute shift in his expression as she began her questioning. The questions seemed innocuous at first, conversational, but they were carefully designed to probe his past and his allegiances without alerting him. She subtly layered her words with a gentle but persistent genjutsu-like pressure, aiming to unsettle him and provoke an unguarded reaction.
Takumi answered each query calmly and directly, his story consistent.
Mikoto, meanwhile, remained silent, her attention seemingly captured by the reflection of the ceiling in her teacup. The wooden planks above were old, slightly rotten, and a moth had settled near the incandescent light bulb. As she watched, distracted, a small, black spider emerged from the shadows, its movements silent and precise. With swift, brutal efficiency, it ensnared the moth in a web that had been all but invisible moments before, sinking its fangs into the trapped insect.
How insensitive, Mikoto thought, a shiver running down her spine. The metaphor was almost too on-the-nose.
She pulled her gaze away from the miniature drama above and looked back to the table. Yakushi Nono had finished her verbal examination and was now leaning in, using a small, light-emitting device to peer deeply into Takumi's singular, crimson Sharingan.
(End of Chapter)