TSSITWON Chapter 247: The Story of Mei Terumi 2

But at that time, I didn’t care.

I just wanted to hug my mother every night and wait for my father to return from his mission. Our home was small, warm, with the sound of wood creaking every time the night wind blew in.

I remember how often my mother would stroke my hair while softly singing old songs from Kirigakure. My mother’s hands smelled like white flowers from the village garden, but hid a strength that could melt walls.

Until that day... the fog felt thicker than usual. The sky hung low over the roof of our house, as if holding its breath.

My mother stood in the doorway, wearing her combat cloak. She tried to smile, but that smile was fragile. Her left hand held my head, gently stroking it, and our eyes met in silence.

“I will be back soon, Mei,” my mother said as she kissed my forehead.

That voice... I could replay it a thousand times in my head. Even now.

I wanted to say, “Don’t go.” My tongue felt dry, my eyes pleaded. But my lips remained silent. Because I knew... a ninja must fulfill their duty. Because we were trained to carry out and complete missions from a young age.

A few days later, two shinobi came with their faces covered by masks. They didn’t say much. They didn’t need to. Because Mother... would not return.

I didn’t cry. Not then. I just sat on the wooden steps of the house, staring blankly at the road wet with morning fog. But when night came, and I returned to the room still fragrant with my mother’s scent... my tears broke free.

I cried in a way I had never felt before. My body trembled, my nails clawed at the floor, my screams sounded like they came from someone else’s throat. I called my mother’s name over and over, like a mantra, hoping she would appear from behind the door with that smile again.

A few weeks later, news of my father’s death followed. This time I didn’t cry.

I just remained silent. My vision darkened. My body felt as if it were rooted to the ground. In my head, everything was empty. It felt like standing in the middle of a storm without being able to move, scream, or breathe. The world lost its color. There was only gray.

Then my uncle came.

His face bore a thin smile that never reached his eyes. He spoke at length about bloodlines, about heritage, about clan honor. But the essence was just one: I had to marry. To whoever they chose from the clan. To “preserve the purity of the blood.” To “continue my parents’ legacy.”

I wanted to vomit.

To me, it wasn’t a request. It was a prison. It was a whip wrapped in a cloak of honor. I was just a body, a tool, a womb with two Kekkei Genkai.

I wanted to burn them all with the lava in my veins.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

That’s when the old man came: Elder Genji. A calm old figure, like a rock that remains unshaken even when battered by waves. The old man’s eyes looked sharp, yet honest. He looked at me like a human. Not a relic.

“If they cannot see you as more than a tool, then let me show you another way,” Elder Genji said to me in the courtyard of an old temple on the outskirts of the village.

Where the old man took me away from the clan’s center, far from the gaze of those traitors. Elder Genji taught me not just how to fight, but how to survive as someone who keeps losing.

I trained day and night. My hands bled. My breath was ragged. My body was full of wounds. But those wounds were more honest than all the fake smiles I had received.

I began to question: how did my parents die? Was it really an accident? Or... part of a plan?

With the power that continued to grow, I undertook mission after mission. Each mission was like a stepping stone toward the truth. Until finally, Genji-sama submitted my name to Anbu.