Chapter 45
At Medori's residence.
News of the Second Shinobi World War's conclusion had spread throughout the Elemental Nations. The household, however, hardly seemed concerned; everyone remained preoccupied with their own routines.
Sitting on the living room sofa, Medori stared absentmindedly out toward the courtyard garden.
It was a rare moment of stillness in an otherwise lively house. Tenka was out shopping for groceries, while Hiyuki and Mikasa were training in the dojo with Saki. As for Haruto, he sat inside the garden gazebo, quietly folding origami alongside the blue-haired girl, Konan.
As if sensing her gaze, Haruto turned toward the house and offered an enthusiastic wave.
Medori could picture his bright grin even from that distance, and an unconscious smile softened her own face.
"How indecisive have you become, Medori," she murmured to herself.
Even now, she wasn't sure what the right decision was. Should she send him away for the sake of his growth—to grant him new experiences and wider horizons—or should she refuse and keep him sheltered here, far from the darkness of this world?
She could protect him from anything within these borders... but was it the right choice? Haruto was by no means weak. Even if he refused to become a shinobi, he still trained every day under Saki's watchful eye. That woman understood the necessity of personal strength, and Medori was grateful for it; she knew she could never bring herself to be that strict with him.
Now she stood at a crossroads, and she knew this single decision would shape her child's future.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the small figure entering the room.
Haruto watched his mother as she stared absentmindedly into the distance.
She had been acting strange for days, and he had a feeling it was about him. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Mom..."
Medori snapped back to reality, meeting her son's emerald-green eyes, which were filled with concern.
"Yes, sweetheart?" she asked softly.
"Are you hiding something from me?"
Medori stilled. In the end, she let out a quiet sigh.
"Haru, do you want to leave the village? To go out and experience the wider world?"
"But Mom, you always told me never to leave Uzushio."
"I know, and I had my reasons. You might not fully understand right now, but recent events have forced me to face reality," she said, her green eyes shimmering with conflicted emotion. "This world is unforgiving to the weak. You will face many hardships ahead. You aren't fragile, Haru, but true strength was never just about raw power. I... I'm afraid. Afraid that in the future, you might resent me for keeping you trapped in a gilded cage."
She leaned down, looking him straight in the eyes.
"I can protect you from almost anything this world throws at us. But I never asked what you want. What do you desire, Haru? Do you want to grow stronger and venture into the unknown, or do you want to stay here, surrounded by the people who love you? Whatever you choose, my son, I will always support you."
Haruto looked down for a second before meeting her gaze. "Mom, I don't want to be a ninja..."
Medori felt a brief surge of relief, but Haruto wasn't finished.
"...But I want to be strong. Strong enough that one day, I can be the one protecting you. Strong enough that I never have to lose anyone I care about."
Medori stared into his unwavering emerald eyes. A gentle, proud smile touched her lips.
"I understand..." She reached out, ruffling his hair before looking down. "Now, go wash your hands. They're covered in dirt."
"Eh?" Haruto looked down at his palms, realizing they were indeed covered in mud from the garden.
He gave a sheepish grin and bolted down the hall toward the bathroom.
Medori watched his retreating figure, the warmth in her expression slowly sharpening into steely resolve.
'The path you have chosen is a precarious one, Haru,' she thought. 'And as your mother, it is my duty to ensure you survive it.'
****
Late in the morning.
The dining room was filled with easy chatter. Even the twin brothers were present, having been granted a few days' leave by Shotō.
Mikasa and Hiyuki, freshly washed after their morning sparring session, sat side by side, murmuring quietly. Across from them, Konan was deep in conversation with Haruto and the twins. All in all, it was a rare, peaceful moment of domestic calm.
Inside the kitchen, Tenka, Medori, and—surprisingly—Saki were putting the finishing touches on the meal.
"Here, let me take that," Tenka said, lifting a massive, steaming pot of rice. Saki picked up a stack of side dishes while Medori carried the rest into the dining room.
Schedules were rarely aligned in this household. Some were early risers who ate at dawn and left immediately for assignments; some skipped meals entirely, while others preferred to sleep in as late as possible. Medori made it her personal duty to ensure everyone had a hot meal before setting off for their respective routines.
Today, however, was one of those rare mornings where everyone sat down together.
Within minutes, the table was laden with food. Just the sight and aroma of the spread were enough to sharpen everyone's appetite.
Medori never skimped on portions; these were growing kids who trained relentlessly every day and burned through calories at an astonishing rate. She always made sure there was more than enough to go around.
Everyone began their meal, passing dishes amid light chatter and pleasant laughter. Even the usual breakfast skippers—Sora and Akira—asked for seconds.
Saki watched the scene with a faint smile as the children enjoyed the food and one another's company.
Twenty minutes later, the meal had wound down to empty plates.
"Everyone, I have an announcement," Medori said calmly, cutting through the ambient noise.
The chatter died instantly. Everyone turned toward her with puzzled expressions.
"I have decided to send Haru to Konoha."
The reaction was immediate: confusion, bewilderment, and above all, shock.
"WHAT?!"
Two voices cried out simultaneously. The first was Tenka, who stood abruptly from her chair; the second, surprisingly, was Sora—the youngest of the group aside from Haruto himself.
"Mother, why?" Tenka demanded.
A few around the table raised an eyebrow at the adress, but nobody interrupted.
"You already know why," Medori replied evenly.
"Is this about the Two-Tails? But Haruto has it under control! He proved he can handle it!" Tenka argued, leaning over the table. "Why are we sending him all the way to Konoha—and alone, at that?"
"Who said he was going alone? Kushina will accompany him," Medori explained, her voice steady and deliberate. "We still don't fully understand what is happening to him. If the Two-Tails gathers enough chakra, it could break free and harm him, and that is a risk I refuse to take. Mito-sama is a jinchūriki and an exceptional kunoichi. She will guide him."
"...With Kushina?" Tenka's fists balled at her sides. "...Then I'm going too."
"No." The refusal was instantaneous.
"Why not?! Why can't I—"
Before she could finish, Medori cut her off, her voice dropping into cold, absolute certainty.
"Tenka. I said no."
Tenka's jaw tightened.
Medori Uzumaki was not just her aunt, guardian, and mother figure; she was the sensei who had personally trained both her and Konan from an early age. Tenka knew that tone intimately. It brooked no argument.
Without sitting back down, Tenka turned sharply on her heel and stormed out of the dining room.
Despite the commotion unfolding around him, Haruto remained in a daze, his gaze fixed blankly in one direction since the conversation had begun.
"Hey, you okay?" Akira, sitting beside him, asked after noticing his strange silence.
Haruto blinked, snapping back to the room.
"Huh? What happened?" he asked, looking around the table.
"Seriously?" Sora muttered from his other side. "You should go after her."
"Ehh? Go after who?" Haruto asked, genuinely puzzled.
"You really are hopeless," Akira muttered, shaking his head.
****
On the other side of the mountain.
Inside a chamber inscribed with dark sealing ink, lines of complex fūinjutsu formulas converged upon a single stone slab at the center of the room.
Two amethyst irises flared to life as dark, abyssal ink flooded her sclerae.
Kushina winced, hissing through her teeth as she took in her surroundings.
Her vision was sharp, sharper than it had ever been.
She could see individual motes of dust suspended in the air, drifting with the agonizing slowness. The farthest wall was dozens of feet away, yet she could trace the microscopic fissures in the dried ink, reading every brushstroke as if pressed against her nose.
Then the second layer bled through.
Superimposed over the physical room was an ethereal, translucent tapestry—a shimmering, gaseous mist that wove through the air like ribbons of liquid light. It wasn't just chakra; it felt like the underlying fabric of space itself, malleable and waiting for a hand to grasp it.
It was entirely different from the first time the power had awakened—far less disorienting and significantly less taxing on her mind.
Suddenly, she felt something. A distinct, familiar tether tugged at the back of her mind.
She turned toward the partition wall, focusing her intent.
Reality began to unravel.
Color drained from her field of view, bleaching the physical world into an ocean of stark monochrome. The solid timber and stone walls lost their density, crumbling into ghostly, spectral outlines until distance became entirely meaningless. Her sight surged forward, tunneling through space and structure until she was looking directly at him.
In the muted, ash-grey expanse of the dining hall, the others were mere faint outlines.
She could see Tenka was standing and arguing about something; however, her whole focus was on Haruto, who was engulfed in an abyssal shroud—a dense vortex of pitch-black darkness that swallowed the light around him. It writhed like living ink, heavy with an ominous, suffocating weight. As if even this monochrome world was trying to protect him.
Yet at the center of that encroaching abyss, his eyes shone untouched—a pair of brilliant, crystalline emeralds radiating warmth.
A primal instinct seized her. Her dōjutsu didn't just observe; it hungered to unravel what it saw. And right now, she felt as if her dōjutsu were actively yearning for him.
Kushina pushed her vision deeper, attempting to strip away the suffocating darkness layer by layer to reach him. To see the real him, like something in her mind constantly whispering.
Crack.
Before she could pierce the final layer, a violent shockwave of metaphysical force rebounded through her head, slamming her back into her physical body.
The monochromatic world collapsed. The black ink receded from her sclerae, snapping back to stark white.
"—shina! Kushina! KUSHINA!"
Kenji's frantic voice cut through the ringing in her ears as he gripped her shoulders, shaking her awake.
Then the agony hit. A burning pressure tore through her optical nerves, accompanied by a warm wetness trickling down her cheeks and upper lip.
She raised a trembling hand; even through blurred vision, the deep crimson staining her fingers was unmistakable.
Blood was pouring from her eyes and nose.
"What... happened?" she wheezed.
"You forced your way through the final seal," Kenji said, panic edging his voice. "Your chakra pathways ruptured!"
Before Kenji could ask what she had been looking at, Kushina's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into his arms.
Without hesitating, Kenji scooped her up and bolted down the corridor toward the medical wing.
****
Back in the dining room.
The others had cleared out, leaving only Medori and Saki seated among the empty dishes.
"It wasn't really about the Tailed Beast, was it?" Saki asked quietly.
Having lived under the same roof for years, Saki understood Medori better than almost anyone. Under normal circumstances, Medori would never have willingly let Haruto out of her sight, let alone agreed to send him across the sea.
There had to be another reason. The instability with the Two-Tails was concerning, but not severe enough on its own to warrant sending him to a foreign village. It might have been a convenient excuse, but it was far from the whole picture.
"Fufu… it seems I can't hide anything from you," Medori responded with a quiet chuckle. "Yes, the situation with the Two-Tails is concerning, but it is not the main reason."
Saki waited for her to continue.
"Haruto… he said he wants to become stronger. Strong enough to protect us."
Saki blinked. "What…?"
Confusion creased her brow. Haruto was strong—strong enough to match her own output. Strong enough that she had to teach him for years to control and suppress his own power so that he would not flood his entire surroundings with his unique chakra. But even with his monstrous talent, there was that distinct aura that still surrounded him.
"Why?" she asked. Not why Haruto wanted to be strong; sooner or later, he would have realized the importance of strength. She was asking why they needed to send him away from his home.
Medori understood that, and she answered.
"Because what Haru needs now is not more power, but understanding, experience, and… a correct mindset." As much as she adored her son, she knew he had one major flaw: his mindset. "He lacks the drive, the hunger the other kids show to become stronger. Like Hiyuki, Mikasa, and even Konan. He lacks the experience and the understanding of the outside world. And as long as he stays in this village, in his gilded cage, he will never experience that… we would never let him experience that."
A heavy silence settled over the dining room.
"I can be the one to do it, then," Saki said flatly.
Stunned, Medori snapped her gaze toward her. Her green eyes met with a pair of hollow, lifeless pools of dark crimson staring back at her.
"For his sake... I can become the Crimson Witch once again. I will break him and build him back up, just as I did with Kushina."
Even to Saki's own ears, the vow sounded entirely hollow.
"You truly are a strong woman, Saki," Medori murmured, reaching across the table to wrap her fingers around Saki's cold, still hand. "But I will not let you do that."
A warm, sorrowful smile touched Medori's lips.
"I don't want you to force yourself into that mold ever again. You have already endured more than your share of misery, and you still carry the weight of this village on your shoulders. It would be unforgivably cruel of me to load this burden onto you as well."
Medori knew what scares Saki carried, the regrets she still couldn't let go completely.
The old Saki had been cold, ruthless, and, above all else, effective. She had forged Kushina through relentless pain and trauma.
Medori still vividly remembered the first few weeks of that training—how battered, exhausted, and traumatized Kushina had been. Yet, that unyielding brutality was precisely what had shaped Kushina into the formidable kunoichi she was today.
Saki herself had come a long way since those days, especially after she moved in this house. She was finally letting go of her past and shedding her guilt. Now, she spoke more, smiled more, and often those smiles were entirely genuine. The sharp, prickly edges of her demeanor had softened into something resembling warmth.
Medori refused to let her closest friend slip back into that hollow, self-loathing existence.
Besides, she still remembered the one time Saki had attempted to be strict with the boy.
The outcome had been disastrous: Haruto gave her the silent treatment for an entire week. For seven straight days, Saki had wandered the house looking utterly devastated, terrified she had ruined her relationship with him forever. In the end, she had practically bribed the boy with her chakra just to coax him back into the training yard.
Recalling those memories brought a fond smile to Medori's face. Watching Saki transition from clumsy, terrified attempts at holding an infant Haruto to becoming a fiercely protective guardian was one of the greatest joys of her life.
After herself, Saki was the one who had poured the most love into raising Haruto. That was why Medori would never allow her to play the villain in her son's growth.
****
At night.
On the tiled rooftop of the main compound sat a girl with cropped blonde hair, a stark patch of white crowning her head as she quietly watched the distant stars scattered across the dark sky.
"So, there you are."
Tenka didn't turn around. She already knew who was standing behind her. It wasn't because she had sensed a chakra signature approaching—no, it was because of how intimately familiar she was with the spatial fabric of her surroundings. Since unlocking full access to her abilities, monitoring that space had become second nature.
Even so, she had only detected the spatial nodes being displaced after Medori had already stepped onto the roof. Her mother truly was no ordinary retired kunoichi.
"Are you ignoring me now, Tenka?"
"How could I, Mother? I was just thinking," Tenka replied, her eyes remaining fixed on the sky.
Without another word, Medori sat down on the cold tiles beside the sulking girl.
"Well, someone is still pouting," Medori teased gently.
"Mother."
"Hmm?"
"Why did you decide to send him away?" Tenka asked directly.
Medori didn't answer immediately. Instead, she leaned back, looking up toward the cloud-veiled moon and allowing the silence to settle between them.
"You know... I assumed this was just a childhood crush. Something born from the trauma of him saving you during that incident—a feeling that would simply fade with time."
Tenka remained completely still.
"But it seems I was mistaken—"
"Mother," Tenka interrupted, her voice dropping.
"Yes?"
The clouds parted above, casting cool, pale moonlight across the rooftop.
Tenka turned, looking her directly in the eyes.
"I love him."
She spoke with quiet, absolute certainty—a confession she made clear she would not repeat.
Medori's breath hitched slightly. Bathed in the soft lunar glow, Tenka's cropped blonde hair stirred gently in the night breeze. Most striking of all were her eyes: the deep, familiar sapphire now carried a distinct greenish-blue tint, still and unyielding like two calm mountain lakes.
As the weight of the confession sank in, Medori realized they weren't merely words.
It was an undeniable declaration.
"Yes," Medori said softly, her smile fading into something far more sober. "Yes, you do."
"Now, tell me why you really decided to send him away."
Medori let out a quiet sigh. "Haru wants to become strong."
"Haru... wants to become stronger?"
The words sounded absurd to Tenka's ears. Haruto—the strongest person she knew—wanted to get stronger? He had single-handedly suppressed her spatial collapse, an incident that could have torn the entire island apart. It was only a matter of time before he regained his full power anyway.
Sensing her bewilderment, Medori continued.
"Tenka, possessing raw power means nothing if you lack the mindset to wield it."
Medori watched the wind ripple through the trees below.
"Haru is perceptive in many ways, but he is completely blind to the harsher realities of our world. That is why I am sending him to Konoha. It is far larger and more diverse than Uzushio. He will be exposed to a foreign environment, forced to interact with people who aren't inclined to coddle him—some good, some bad. That perspective is what will allow him to mature as an individual."
A long beat of silence hung over the rooftop.
"I see," Tenka murmured.
Honestly, what more could she say? She was already acting like an insecure child.
She looked down at her open palm. A dense orb of dark spatial energy coalesced over her skin. Twisting the fabric of space, she molded it into various geometric shapes before compressing it into a razor-thin, hovering disc.
"Mother? What is true strength?" Tenka asked, staring into the dark distortion of space hovering above her hand.
"Strength?" Medori echoed softly. "There are many forms of it, and everyone carries their own interpretation. Some define it by raw destruction. Others find it in the freedom to make their own choices, or in standing above everyone else."
Medori looked back at Tenka.
"And ironically, none of them are entirely wrong. But take it from someone who has lived a very, very long life: true strength is the ability to stand back up when circumstances become impossible. It's standing up again, and again, and again—even when there is no hope left. Even when your legs are broken and you're forced to drag yourself forward through the dirt."
Medori paused, looking out over the quiet expanse of the estate.
"I am sorry. It seems I got carried away," she said with a faint chuckle.
"A little bit, yeah... but I think I learned something about you, Mother. So no harm done," Tenka replied, a small smirk returning to her face.
Medori chuckled, shaking her head as she stood up. Her eyes fell onto the dark disc hovering just above Tenka's fingers. A sly grin crossed her face, and she reached out toward it.
Tenka's eyes widened in panic. "Wait, Mother, don't—!"
This wasn't an ordinary spatial portal. It was a localized spatial tear—a lethal construct meant to sever anything it touched.
Before Tenka could pull it back, Medori casually pinched the blade of distorted space between her thumb and forefinger.
Crack!
To Tenka's utter, slack-jawed shock, the spatial construct shattered like brittle glass, fracturing into fine motes of dark light before dissolving into the night breeze.
"Heh... it seems your energy cohesion still needs work," Medori said breezily, ruffling Tenka's hair before turning away. "Close your mouth, dear. You'll catch flies."
********