STIN: Chapter 71/73

Chapter 71: Sleep with Me?

Tsunade withdrew her gaze and looked at Ryo, who was still sitting cross-legged on the floor with that expression that clearly said, "Are you done making a scene yet?"

The trace of mischief she had shown when teasing Kushina vanished instantly. The anger she had been suppressing all the way back flared up again, burning so fiercely it made her lungs ache.

She reached into her robe and pulled out a recall scroll, the same one that Danzō gave her. Pinching it between two fingers, she snapped her wrist and, smack, the scroll landed precisely in front of Ryo. It unfurled, revealing Hiruzen's unmistakable red seal.

"Impressive. You have really got some nerve now, huh?"

Tsunade folded her arms, stepped forward, and blocked the doorway completely. The killing intent rolling off her made the air in the room tense. Grinding her molars audibly, she glared daggers at him.

"Not only did you charm that little vixen Kushina until she is dizzy and dazed, you even had the guts to cause a mess this big?"

Her voice suddenly rose, carrying the rasp of exhaustion and the heat of her suppressed frustration.

"Two-thirds of the village was covered by the blast. Tens of thousands knocked out cold. The medical corps is still packed to bursting. If the ANBU had not moved fast enough to clean things up, logistics would still be drowning in the aftermath."

She took another step forward, the murderous aura honed on the Ame frontlines flooding the small room. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

"Do you even have a clue how much the cleanup is going to cost? We could sell you for parts and still not cover a fraction of it."

Tsunade took a deep breath, as if imagining the horrifying sum, and her anger only grew hotter.

"Because of you, that old man sent me an emergency recall order like my life depended on it. Do you know what the front lines are like right now? Without me there, without my antidote formulas, people are dying by the dozen every day. And you, you little brat, were out here playing around?"

The more she spoke, the angrier she became. She could almost see all the funding, research budgets, and medical supplies that should have gone to saving lives on the frontlines, now all pouring like a flood into this bottomless pit of a disaster.

She, who should have been out there saving lives, was instead stuck here cleaning up after this brat.

After listening to her tirade in silence, Ryo finally moved.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to dodge the flying droplets, then raised his eyes to meet Tsunade's furious glare, calm, steady, and unreadable.

"Are you done?" he asked evenly, his tone completely devoid of panic or excuses.

That only poured fuel on the fire.

Tsunade felt the blood rush to her head.

Ryo merely reached down with two fingers, lazily picked up the recall scroll from the floor, and glanced over it as if it were some unimportant scrap of paper. His tone carried the faintest edge of mockery.

"All this, just for that?"

He looked up and met her gaze.

"That old man called you back for this?"

Before she could answer, Ryo tossed the scroll aside again, as casually as if throwing away trash.

That did it. Tsunade's temper detonated.

"Do not you dare change the subject. You are the one who made this mess."

"Who said you needed to clean up after me?" Ryo interrupted, his tone steady but unyielding.

Tsunade barked a laugh, her eye twitching with disbelief.

"Oh really? Look at you, talking big. You are just a snot-nosed brat. Even if we skinned and sold you, you could not pay off a fraction of the damage. What did you negotiate, huh? You think Hiruzen can be fooled by a few sweet words? In the end, he dumped the bill on me."

Ryo looked at her, his silver-gray eyes as deep and cold as still water. When he spoke again, his words struck like a hammer.

"I made a deal with Hiruzen."

Her tirade stopped cold. The contempt on her face faltered for a moment.

Ryo continued, each word dropping like stones into still water.

"He called you back in a hurry," he paused, his eyes gleaming with knowing coldness, "and it had nothing to do with me."

"What did you just say?" Tsunade exploded, almost leaping in anger. "Nothing to do with you? What else could it be for, then?"

But the doubt slipped in anyway. Her brows furrowed deeply, confusion and unease flickering in her eyes.

Something was not right.

That familiar, icy shiver ran down her spine, the same dread she had felt on the battlefield right before the Second Hokage's chakra flickered out forever.

Her face went pale.

Blood seemed to rush up to her head and then drain all at once, leaving her cold and trembling. An unspeakable fear rose from the depths of her heart.

Could it be, Grandma?

No. Impossible.

Mito's seal on the Nine-Tails had always been stable. Hiruzen would not, but if it was not about the family, about the village's very survival, and about her most precious relative's life and death, then why would he pull her from the front lines in the middle of a war?

It could not have been about cleaning up Ryo's mess. That was a ridiculous excuse.

Fragments of realization snapped together in her mind, forming a horrifying possibility.

Hiruzen's vague, evasive tone.
Ryo's calm, knowing demeanor, like someone who had already seen through everything.

Tsunade swayed slightly, gripping the doorframe until her knuckles turned white.

"Heh," Ryo chuckled softly, almost mocking her moment of shock.

He stood, tall and imposing in the dim light, giving her no chance to question further.

"Enough," he said flatly, voice leaving no room for argument as he strode toward the door. "It is late. Go sleep."

He stopped in front of her, leaning down slightly to look her in the eye. His cold, sharp face twisted into a teasing smirk.

"What is wrong, Tsunade," he drawled, eyes flicking over her pale, unsettled expression, "you planning to stay and sleep with me?"

That one line snapped Tsunade out of her shock. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she gawked up at him.

"You brat. Who do you think you are talking to? Trying to hit on me?"

The shame and anger flared back to life. She pointed a trembling finger at his face, her temper rising again.

"Do you have any idea what happened to that idiot Jiraiya the last time he said something like that? He was drunk and ran his mouth, and I sent him flying out of the bathhouse and into the old crooked tree at the village gate. Hung there for three days."

She huffed, clearly intending to scare him straight.

"I am not curious," Ryo cut her off coldly. He moved suddenly, stepping forward and shoulder-checking her aside without hesitation.

The motion was abrupt and forceful. Tsunade stumbled back a half step, caught off guard.

Ryo's voice followed, calm but ringing with youthful defiance.

"I am still growing."

He rested one hand on the doorframe, half-blocking the entrance, and added dryly,

"Some irresponsible person once said staying up too late would stunt my growth."

He looked directly at her, at her pale, furious, utterly conflicted expression, and drove the final nail in, one deliberate word at a time.

"Do not. Stay. Up. Late."

Her mind blanked. Memories flooded back, that night long ago, when she had tossed him the Kage Bunshin scroll and scolded him for his late-night training.

"Kid, go get a proper night's sleep. Keep staying up like this, you will stunt your growth. Hah, when you are grown and still shorter than Kushina, we will see how your fragile pride takes it. I am doing you a favor, you know?"

Her own teasing words echoed vividly in her ears.

Now, they had come back to bite her. Hard.

Ryo glanced at her mortified, color-shifting face, pale one second, red the next, and his lips twitched ever so slightly.

"Now get out of here," he said, tone final. "You are in the way of my training."

With that, he slammed the door shut with a bang so hard the frame shuddered and dust fell from the ceiling.

"?!"

Tsunade barely dodged in time, almost getting her nose flattened.

"You brat. Open the damn door," she shouted, furious, kicking it hard enough to shake the walls, but the chakra-reinforced door did not budge.

Inside, silence.

Only moonlight answered her through the window.

She smacked the door a few more times until her palms stung, then stopped, realizing it was pointless. Her grandmother was asleep, and Nawaki would wake up if she kept yelling. She could only grind her teeth, curse under her breath, and storm off down the corridor, her footsteps heavy and echoing against the stone floor.

The house fell silent again.

Inside the room, Ryo leaned against the cold door for a few moments, listening until her footsteps faded away. Then he turned back, sat down on his bedding, and exhaled slowly.

His silver-gray eyes reflected the moonlight, calm and deep.

He closed them again, sinking into meditation.

His vast chakra surged through his body like a silver current. In his mind, the intricate patterns of space-time jutsu unfolded, lines of chakra flow, formulae, and seals continuously being formed, broken, and reconstructed.

A Kage Bunshin silently dissolved beside him, reforming anew.

(To be continued.)

Chapter 72: The Pillar of Konoha for an Era Is Finally Shedding Its Burden

Morning light struggled to pierce the gloom hanging over Konoha's sky. In the Senju residence, the dining room held the warmth of breakfast, and a faint, lingering heaviness.

Nawaki took a vicious bite out of his rice ball, but his eyes stayed locked on Ryo across the table, who was calmly sipping soup.
That stare looked like it could burn two holes straight through his face.

The memory of his thigh being blown apart seemed to ache again deep in the bone, despite it already being the third time it had rapidly healed.

"Sis." Nawaki slapped his spoon down with a sharp clack, having found his outlet. His voice carried grievance and accusation. "You have to do something about Ryo. He is a walking hazard. Look at what he did to me. Combat drill? He went for the kill on purpose. My leg was practically roasted. Three times. Three whole times."

He raised his voice on purpose and shot Ryo a provocative look. The message could not be clearer. My backer is home, just you wait.

Tsunade, seated at the head, was sipping miso soup. At his words, she did not even lift an eyelid. Instead, she rolled her eyes so hard they nearly flipped to the ceiling.

"Eat. And stop whining," she rasped, hoarse with a hangover and impatience. She tapped the rim of her bowl with her spoon. "You think I am blind? With your so-called skill, you cannot even cast a proper Water Dragon Bullet. You rush in with fake-outs full of openings like a rabid dog. Getting your leg blown off is your own damn fault. Ryo is doing you a favor, so you do not step onto a real battlefield and leave nothing but scraps for us to collect."

She shut him down without mercy, not even sparing him a glance, much less the conspiratorial look he was begging for, hoping she would help him teach Ryo a lesson.

Nawaki's mouth opened and closed like a punctured balloon, all his bluster deflating at once. He was left with nothing but stifled humiliation and the sting of his sister's ruthless truth. Head down, he shoveled rice into his mouth with tragic vigor. Is this really my big sister? Was I picked up out of a trash can?

Beside the head seat, Uzumaki Mito had been quietly watching the lively morning unfold.

Sunlight filtered through the window, laying gentle shadows across her timeworn face.

She watched her noisy grandchildren, and the silent, straight-backed redhead. Beside him, little Kushina's face was flushed as she kept sneaking glances his way. Mito's lips curved with a tender, seasoned smile.

Breakfast ended beneath that delicate mood. Nawaki was still sulking.

When everything was tidied, they gathered around the low table in the sitting room.

Tsunade, sharp as ever, noticed Mito was different today, not the usual relaxed warmth of an early morning. There was a solemnity to her that felt like the quiet before final instructions.

Uzumaki Mito sat up a little straighter. Her eyes, calm and all-seeing, swept over the gathered children. Nawaki, stubbornly holding back his disappointment. Tsunade, feigning composure while her knuckles blanched. Kushina, nestled close to Ryo, ignorant in her youth but starting to feel unease.

Her gaze paused on Ryo's calm face, then lifted to meet Tsunade's searching, faintly fearful eyes.

"Children," Mito said. Her voice was not loud, but it settled over every stray sound in the room, grounded and resolute. "I have decided to transfer the Nine-Tails."

Transferring the Nine-Tails meant the jinchūriki would die.

Silence.

Even the birds outside seemed frozen mid-song.

The sitting room felt sheathed in invisible ice.

They had expected it. But when Mito said it herself, Tsunade felt all the blood drain from her body.

Her heart clenched, caught in a cold, iron grip that made breathing hurt.

She clenched her fists, forcing down the sting burning behind her eyes.

Do not cry. You are the elder sister. Nawaki and Kushina are watching. You have to hold it together.

"Uwaa, Grandma. No. I do not want you to go." Kushina's tears burst like a broken dam. She flung herself at Mito, clinging to her as if to life itself, her small body shaking violently. "I will be good. I will study sealing. I will never sneak out again. Please do not leave me. I am scared."

Hot tears soaked through Mito's dark clothes in an instant.

Mito's thin but steady hands patted the trembling little back, soothing her like an infant. Her voice was gentle, helpless. "Silly child. Grandma is far too old. See, that Nine-Tails has been in me a long time, its temper has gotten bigger, and I can barely hold it down now. Let it move into your new home, hmm? It is roomier there. You will have to manage it well for me."

She brushed Kushina's wet cheeks with the pad of her thumb, the warmth tinged with aching reluctance. "Besides, your grandfather Hashirama, that old rascal, must be so bored alone in the Pure Land. If I do not go keep an eye on him, who knows what ruckus he will stir up next. Grandma has to go make sure he behaves, do you not think?"

The tone was coaxing, but the parting it carried was irreversible.

Kushina only cried harder, tears dropping like beads from a broken string. She buried her face in Mito's chest, sobbing too hard to form full sentences.

Over Kushina's quivering red hair, Mito looked to Ryo, the boy who had personally ended the Kumo spy, protected her precious granddaughter, and shown Konoha both his breadth of heart and monstrous potential.

"Ryo," she called, the weight of entrustment in her voice.

Ryo stood without a word and moved the teacup aside.

His face was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes were more focused than usual.

With a gravity that belied her frail hands, Mito gently took Kushina's small, sweaty, tear-damp fingers, then firmly, without leaving room for refusal, placed them into Ryo's broad, steady palm.

Two hands overlapped, strength and fragility meeting in one point.

Mito lifted her gaze, looking deep into Ryo's silver-gray eyes. There was no doubt there, only the most earnest plea and trust. "Promise Grandma Mito that you will take good care of our little Kushina. Guard her for a lifetime. Watch over her, keep her safe and happy as she grows up. Will you?"

The cold tremor in his palm made Ryo's heart tighten, just slightly.

He glanced down at Kushina, crying so hard she could barely breathe, then met Mito's eyes again. His lips parted. No hesitation. Each word fell like hammered iron, heavy and clear.

"I promise."

No flowery vow. Just two words.

From his mouth, they weighed a thousand pounds.

Every wrinkle on Mito's face seemed to ease at once, relief blooming quiet and deep.

She patted the back of Ryo's hand, then let go.

Her eyes moved to Nawaki. He sat like a puppet with its strings cut, head down, shoulders trembling as he tried to swallow his sobs.

Her reckless, pure-hearted grandson, whom she had watched grow up.

"Nawaki," Mito's voice brimmed with love, and a tinge of complication. "You are the one Grandma worries about most."

Her words pricked him like a needle.

Nawaki's head snapped up. His eyes were scarlet at the rims, tear tracks not yet dry.

Mito looked into those eyes so like Tobirama's and sighed. "Those three broken legs were arranged by Grandma."

"What?" Nawaki froze. The grief on his face solidified into shock as he stared at her.

"I had Ryo do it, to make you remember, in the most painful way, that the battlefield is not a game. It is not a place where you charge in shouting Will of Fire and come out covered in glory. It is a place of blood and death." Mito's tone sharpened, the final lecture of an elder pressed for time. "I do not expect you to plan like your Sensei Orochimaru. But at least use your head enough to protect yourself. Recklessness is just another word for dying. I am afraid, afraid you will end up like your grand-uncle, losing your life on some nameless patch of ground, for nothing."

Her voice caught for an instant, sinking into an old, unhealed ache.

Nawaki looked like he had been struck by lightning. The blankness and confusion on his face were drowned by a flood of shame and regret.

So those shattered bones were not Ryo's cruelty, but Grandma's heavy love and worry. He had been a fool, reckless and impulsive, nearly trampling her painstaking care.

He scrubbed a hand hard across his face. When he looked up again, his eyes still swam with tears, but now there was a steadiness there he had never had before.

He met Mito's gaze and spoke, one word at a time. "Grandma, I was wrong. I will change. I will use my head. I will protect myself. I will come back safe."

Mito smiled and nodded, ruffling his stiff, short hair.

At last, her eyes returned to Tsunade.

The proudest granddaughter of the First Hokage. Konoha's healer-saint.

She sat ramrod straight, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a stubborn line, fighting to keep the tears from spilling.

But the faint tremble of her shoulders betrayed the storm inside.

"Tsunade," Mito softened her voice to a caress, filled with reluctance and apology. "Do not mind Grandma nagging. My temper has always been too quick, I never managed to teach you how to tame that firecracker temper of yours. I worry, that there will be no one left to help you rein it in."

Tsunade bit her lower lip hard. A heavy sourness surged up her nose. She blinked rapidly, forcing the dampness back.

"How I wish, I could stay with you a few more years," Mito murmured, voice soaked with affection. "To see you wear white and marry with splendor, to see you find someone who truly cherishes you, accepts your temper, and protects you, but Grandma does not have the blessing. I will not be there to see it."

"Grandma." Tsunade finally could not hold it anymore. Her voice cracked as she cut in, terrified that another word would shatter her. "I will not marry. I just, I just want to stay with you forever. Like when I was little."

She straightened her back with effort, but the reddening corners of her eyes and the tremor in her voice gave her away.

Mito looked at her brave front and smiled, like a mother indulging a willful child. "Silly girl."

The time that followed felt like they had forgotten the coming farewell. Like any ordinary family, they sat together.

Mito spoke slowly, telling stories of Kushina as a toddler. Of the time Nawaki first refined chakra and flipped over from excitement. Of Tsunade's first wall shattered by monstrous strength, and the guilty, secretly proud face she had made after.

Nawaki chimed in with red-rimmed eyes, trying to keep things lively. Kushina leaned against Mito, sometimes giggling through hiccups, mostly clutching her hand as if never to let go. Tsunade listened quietly, a tender smile at her lips, gaze never leaving Mito's face, memorizing every expression. Only where no one could see did her clenched knuckles betray the torment inside.

Ryo sat beside Kushina in silence, listening to the tapestry of memories and goodbyes, like a steadfast shadow.

Sunlight shifted across the wooden floor through the lattice window. The tea was refilled several times. The pastries had long gone cold.

When the sunlight finally crept to the edge of the low table, Mito gently patted Kushina's shoulder where it rested against her.

No matter how long, every farewell must be said.

There were no more reminders left to give.

Mito simply looked around one last time. Her warm gaze lingered on each young face, Nawaki's forced strength, Tsunade's hidden grief, Kushina's swollen, clinging eyes.

At last, she smiled and rose.

In the Senju sitting room, a long, voiceless quiet settled.

In the slanting sun, fine dust hung motionless in the air, as if time itself had stilled, sealing this thick, unyielding sorrow of parting within the space called home, pressing heavy on every heart.

The pillar of Konoha for an era was, at last, laying down her burden.

(To be continued.)

Chapter 73: The Nine-Tails Transfer Ritual

The main hall of the Senju ancestral home was like an ancient well sunk into an abyss. The air was so still it felt as though it might crush the moonlight.

Mito's hoarse murmurs of comfort and Kushina's muffled sobs were the only living struggle within that dead silence.

The old woman's wrinkled hand stroked that blazing red hair again and again, endless tenderness smoothing the girl's grief in this moment before farewell.

"Kushina, do not be afraid." The elder's voice was aged yet vast as the sea, unable to banish the chill of night. "Grandma will watch over you from the sky, eyes open, watching you grow up, watching you live your life."

"Do not go. Grandma, do not go. I cannot let you go." Kushina buried her whole face in the warmth of Mito's robe. Her sobs broke apart against the fabric, her small body shaking so hard it hurt to see. Her swollen eyes were like breached springs, tears rolling and staining the cloth a darker despair.

Every ragged breath hitched with a tearing, helpless sound, the sound of a child thrown against the flood of fate.

Mito's clouded eyes drifted to the moon, veiled and revealed by torn clouds. At last, with immeasurable reluctance, she gently pushed the burning bundle of tears from her arms.

Her thin fingers brushed the girl's wet, tear-streaked cheeks, soft but steady. "Do not fear becoming a jinchūriki. Your heart will often feel empty, but there is always something that can fill it."

Her gaze slipped, almost casually yet knowingly, toward the shadowed courtyard, where a red-haired figure stood like a stake driven into the earth. "Is that hollow in your heart not already filled?"

Kushina's sobbing cut off, as if a hand had closed around her throat.

Something hot slammed into her chest.

That moonlit declaration, "And now," the silent, steadfast back she could sense even through the door, both exploded in her mind.

That overbearing warmth that allowed no refusal was the only light she could cling to in this vast, falling dark, the last thread holding up her crumbling heart.

Outside the hall, Tsunade paced like a caged beast, boots crusted with the front line's blood and dust grinding dead leaves under heel with sharp, bone-like snaps. Rage quivered at every pore, near detonation.

"Damn that old monkey." Her growl was followed by a dull thunk as her kunai sank deep into a pine trunk, wood chips flying.

Ripped from the front to attend a ritual she could not change and that split her heart, her fury was a living thing.

In a corner of the courtyard, Hiruzen and his advisors Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu stood like three cold statues. The air was drawn tight as a bowstring, every breath dragged through thorns.

Then the thick shōji slid open. Mito stepped out, leading Kushina by the hand.

The elder kept her back as straight as she could, but the mountain-heavy dusk of age and exhaustion could not be hidden.

Kushina's hand was locked within her grandmother's, old but unyielding, as they walked, step by step, toward the sealing dais.

Moonlight flowed like water across the deep-carved, ancient fūinjutsu lines in the stone. Those lines seemed alive as they coiled and writhed, exuding a chill that froze even the air.

A thick stone post rose at each corner of the platform.

Mito sat. Hiruzen, Homura, and Koharu took their places as well, each face iron-hard and grave.

"Come up, child." Mito's voice was calm, as still as a bottomless pond.

Kushina drew a deep breath. The cold air, mud and rot of fallen leaves, filled her lungs in a fine sting.

She shoved down the last bit of dependence in her eyes and replaced it with something like tragic resolve.

She released Mito's hand and stepped alone into the center of that cold stone, an altar that meant power and prison.

Her gaze swept the shadows of the courtyard and locked onto Ryo, standing by the wall with his arms crossed.

Through the density of night, his silver-gray eyes met hers with perfect clarity, calm and steady, like the surest mooring point driven into the churning sea of her heart.

She clenched her fists tight.

Mito's ten withered fingers suddenly began to weave signs, so fast they blurred into a gray haze.

"Begin." Her bark cracked like thunder.

The three advisors dared not slacken for an instant. Chakra flared blindingly in their hands.

But when their refined chakra poured into the etched edges of the platform, it only formed a glowing framework.

The true core, the tidal surge, vast and ancient, carrying the blood-deep power of the Uzumaki, rose from Mito herself. Her last reserves, the bedrock of the ritual.

Whoom.

Every seal-line on the platform lit at once, crimson as blood.

A colossal scarlet barrier whirled up like a vortex, enveloping the platform and the slim red figure at its center.

Across the barrier wall, dense tadpole-like seal script raced and writhed, weaving a net meant to bind gods and demons.

ROAR.

A howl of primeval fury and unending humiliation hammered straight through the scarlet dome, slamming into the soul of every witness.

The beams and pillars of the Senju home shivered. Civilians across the sleeping village jolted awake, hearts pounding in terror at that sound from the depths.

A heartbeat later, hell itself descended on Kushina.

The Nine-Tails' chakra, ominous, icy, and hot enough to burn the world, flooded into her like molten rock, rending meridians and pouring through a too-young body.

It was not the pain of broken bone. It was the skin, the flesh, every nerve screaming at once, an agony that defied language.

Her pale skin flushed crimson, like iron thrown into a forge. Fine blisters rose in a rush across her exposed neck and arms, swelling tight.

"Ah." She threw back her head and screamed, the sound cracking and tearing. Her body arched, every muscle locked, as if an invisible fire scorched her again and again.

Her throat seized under the pain. Only ragged, bellows-like gasps scraped out.

Sweat, mixed with a thin seep of fluids from beneath the skin, soaked her clothes. No blood, yet crueler than bleeding.

Above, the scarlet barrier keened at a pitch that stabbed the ear. It warped, bloated, baring the cataclysm within.

"Hold the sealing formation." Starlike brilliance erupted in Mito's eyes. Her hands blurred past their limits, a storm of signs. Power poured from her until even her frail body trembled out of control.

Hiruzen, Homura, and Koharu clenched their teeth so hard it sounded like steel grinding. Veins roped their temples. Their faces blanched paper-pale as they fought to keep the outer frame steady, only the edges.

Against the Nine-Tails' true fury, the brunt fell entirely upon Uzumaki Mito's shoulders.

"Kushina. Unleash your Uzumaki blood, now. Lock it down." Mito's shout was a war drum across time, rattling souls, edged with a do-or-die resolve.

A different power surged forth, tough, pure, ancient, like a sleeping dragon waking within Kushina's breaking body.

The purest Uzumaki lineage boiled.

Across her flushed skin, dark-gold seal formulae, old as ages, lit along the paths of burning pain, racing and entwining until they shone with dazzling light.

At her lower abdomen, centered at the navel, a precise, impossibly intricate Eight Trigrams Seal flared into view, radiating unshakable stability.

That newborn strength resonated with Mito's final sealing force, becoming countless cold, iron-strong spiritual chains of dark gold. With the momentum to suppress all things, they snapped taut.

And, along the path of the scarlet torrent, they bit back against its source, driving straight toward the fox within Mito, the beast that sought to break free and devour its host.

Thud. Crack.

The great scarlet barrier imploded to a pinprick, then burst outward in a ring of invisible, annihilating ripples.

In that instant, Mito's last glance held, unyielding, gentle, bright as ever.

The light in her eyes faded like quiet stardust, full of blessing, trust, and a charge for the village's future, as she slipped away without a sound.

All her life, all her strength, and her everlasting longing for Senju Hashirama flowed into those Uzumaki chains, their warmth wrapping Kushina's raging seal.

"Hashirama, I am coming to meet you now."

(To be continued.)