Uchiha Hokaku knew his granddaughter well.
Mikoto was gentle by nature—
But never someone who gave kindness without reason.
There were many orphans in Konoha, children who had lost their parents to war and hardship.
But within the Uchiha clan, such tragedies were no less common.
Even though the clan was wealthy, its expenses were immense.
And according to the unspoken codes most shinobi followed—no indulgence in alcohol, luxury, or excess—
The clan's welfare system treated orphaned children no differently from ordinary civilians.
There was no special privilege.
But—
That began to change when Uchiha Ren awakened his three-tomoe Sharingan.
As his voice gradually carried more weight within the clan, the hawkish faction began to shift.
Ordinary members opened shops.
Strange, unfamiliar goods—never before seen in Konoha—began to circulate.
Their quality of life visibly improved.
Not extravagant—
But new clothes.
Better weapons.
Full coin purses.
Their entire demeanor changed.
They stood straighter.
Lived better.
And—
Around the same time—
Mikoto began making her own quiet moves.
Not only keeping pace with the hawks' development—
But also funding multiple orphanages.
And reaching out to Uchiha scattered beyond the clan—
Even those who had married into other families.
Though few women had married out due to the clan's pride—
Over decades, the extended bloodline had grown to more than three hundred.
Even if their blood was diluted, and awakening the Sharingan was unlikely—
Most still had the talent to become shinobi.
Over the years—
Many had reached chūnin.
The most outstanding among them—
Uchiha Hazuki, who possessed the three-tomoe Sharingan.
This had greatly strengthened the dovish faction.
—
Mikoto smiled, her eyes curving like crescent moons.
She set her chopsticks neatly along the edge of her bowl.
"Grandfather, what could I possibly be hiding from you?"
"Aren't all my actions… done right under your watch?"
She rose gracefully.
The sleeves of her home kimono brushed the table lightly, carrying a faint floral scent.
Her fingers moved with quiet precision—
Gathering leftovers.
Stacking dishes in order.
Wiping the table carefully after each piece.
The lamplight rested softly on her lowered lashes, outlining a gentle curve at the corner of her eyes.
Hokaku watched her deliberate avoidance.
The words in his chest turned into a quiet complaint—
One laced with both jealousy and fondness.
"Daughters really do grow up and leave…"
He stood slowly, his wooden sandals echoing against the stairs.
Mikoto's ears flushed faintly.
She lowered her head, pretending not to hear.
Softly, she hummed a tune Ren had once taught her.
In the sound of running water—
She rinsed the dishes and placed them neatly to dry.
Every movement was natural.
Familiar.
The ease of someone accustomed to tending a home—
And quietly dreaming of one yet to come.
Compared to the life of constant battle—
Mikoto longed for something different.
To be a wife.
To build a home.
To care for the people she loved.
As she wiped down the kitchen, her gaze drifted to a sunflower placed in a pot—
A gift from Ren.
For a moment—
She could almost see it.
Him sitting at the table.
A future that hadn't yet arrived.
—
Upstairs, Hokaku climbed slowly.
The candlelight stretched his shadow across the corridor.
At the end, he slid open the door to a quiet room.
Moonlight spilled in through the window.
Before him—
A small shrine.
Two portraits stood side by side, their frames polished with care.
"Keita… Reiko…"
He knelt, taking three incense sticks.
The faint glow lit his fingers as the scent of sandalwood filled the air.
"Mikoto has found someone she loves."
"It's Ren… Setsuna's grandson."
"The boy you only saw once."
The smoke curled upward, passing over the steady gaze of his son in the photograph… and the gentle smile of his daughter-in-law.
"They say the departed become stars in the sky."
"I wonder… if you can see her now."
"When she speaks of him…"
"She looks just like you did, Reiko… when you chose Keita."
"So full of happiness."
His hand brushed over the cold glass of the frame.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"The clan… is changing."
"The old, blood-soaked past… is finally being pushed aside by new growth."
There had been a time—
When every faction within the Uchiha had stained their hands with the blood of their own kin.
A bitter irony.
A clan that cherished love above all—
Had been capable of the cruelest violence.
Under those scarlet eyes—
It was as if no one was beyond killing.
A wind chime rang softly outside.
Hokaku looked out at the courtyard, where hydrangeas swayed under the moonlight.
"I wonder…"
"Will this old body of mine last long enough… to see her in wedding robes?"
A faint chuckle escaped him.
"Kirigakure…"
His thoughts shifted.
His gaze fell upon a suit of armor resting in the corner.
Though worn, it still carried a cold, unyielding gleam.
Deep within his clouded eyes—
A flash of crimson emerged.
Three tomoe spun slowly in the darkness.
"Let the blades of the Mist come…"
His voice carried the distant echoes of battle.
"Just in time for these eyes of mine… to meet their techniques once more."
"Where leaves dance, the fire burns eternal."
"The fire will continue to illuminate the village… and nurture new growth."
He paused.
Then, quietly—
"That fire… belongs to the Uchiha."
His words faded into the night.
—
Downstairs—
Mikoto finished cleaning and prepared a calming drink.
Lavender.
Matcha.
Hot spring water poured into a copper pot, steam rising gently.
The tea swirled softly in the cup as she walked.
She stopped before the sliding door.
Through the paper screen, she could see her grandfather's silhouette.
For a moment—
That figure felt different.
Sharper.
Like a blade drawn from its sheath.
Grandfather… is thinking of the past again.
Her memories of her parents had long since faded—
Leaving only fragments.
But raised in love—
She carried both sorrow and quiet strength.
She stood there, her voice soft as spring wind.
"Grandfather…"
"It's time for your tea. You should rest early."
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read chapters ahead on Patreon → patreon.com/c/CrimsonHub