I hadn't expected the sweet old lady who used to slip me konpeitō to live in a place like this.
The room was traditional, properly traditional. Tatami mats worn smooth, stretched wall to wall, their woven rush smell faint but still noticeable. The walls were papered in soft cream with delicate pine branch patterns along the edges. A low lacquered table sat in the center, polished to a shine but old and well-used over the years. In the tokonoma alcove, a hanging scroll displayed some calligraphy — something about perseverance or the fleeting nature of cherry blossoms — and beneath it sat a simple ceramic vase with a single white camellia.
It was a nice place, and I found myself mentally cataloging it.
Maybe I could replicate something like this in my new place. Then again, I had the interior design sense of a concussed mole rat, so maybe not. I could leave it to Shiho, but… no. My little nerd wasn't any better at this stuff than I was, and she was pregnant. No belly yet, but she should be resting. Relaxing. Not stressing over whether our living room needed a fucking tokonoma.
I shelved the thought for now.
Still, on a side note, I hadn't expected this.
Tomoe Uchiha ran a small candy shop, modest and unassuming. I'd never put much thought into her beyond "kind old lady who gives sweets." But I probably should've expected this.
She was a Uchiha. Part of the strongest clan in the village. They focused on strength and recognition and a little too much superiority — seriously, the ego on these people could block out the sun. But they still had means. Wealth and legacy. Generational property passed down like heirlooms.
And with no Kyuubi attack to justify it, they hadn't been forced to abandon what the previous generation built. They kept their positions. Stayed in the center of the village. Even with Danzo doing his damndest to grind them into irrelevance, they endured.
Tomoe sat across from me, hands moving rhythmically over a pair of knitting needles. Her smile was small, grandmotherly, and vaguely amused as she watched me take in the room.
"My, how you've grown, Ei-chan," she said softly. "It's been far too long since you've visited this old woman, or walked these streets."
"It's been a while indeed," I muttered, then smiled back, settling into a more comfortable posture, trying not to look as confused as I felt. "Sorry, Tomoe-san. You know how it is—duties and missions keep one running all over."
"Oh, no need to apologize." Her needles clicked together. "I imagine you've been busy. A diligent young man like you—always moving, always training. You stopped coming around here years ago."
Truth was, I'd stopped walking this part of the village the moment I grew a spine and quit groveling to be buddies with Shisui or the Uchiha in general. Not that it mattered. I did that with Guy-sensei instead. Progress.
Way more accepting. Way more exhausting, too.
"Life got complicated," I said, which was both true and sufficiently vague.
"Mm." Her eyes crinkled. "I'm sure it did. But you could've at least sent a letter. Or stopped by for tea."
I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. "You're right. I should've. I'll do better."
"See that you do." She paused, tilting her head. "Tekka-kun wasn't too... assertive with you, was he? He can be… particular about manners sometimes."
The guy had scoffed and left after dropping me off. I could sense him lurking on the rooftop directly above. At least he had enough sense not to leave his grandmother alone with someone who'd killed a Mizukage. Though what exactly he planned to do if I went homicidal was anyone's guess.
"He was perfectly polite," I lied smoothly. As polite as a Uchiha can be.
"Mmm." She didn't buy it for a second. "You always were such a considerate boy. I remember you used to bow so deeply when I gave you sweets. I worried you'd tip over."
Heat crept up my neck. "I was... enthusiastic about proper etiquette."
And I was. Anyone would be. Had they meals because the meagre allowance was spent buying shurikens and kunai to not be left behind.
"Enthusiastic." She laughed, a sound like wind chimes. "Is that what we're calling it? You once thanked me seventeen times for a single piece of candy. I counted."
That was fucking nonsense. An exaggeration. But she was an old lady; her memory probably didn't work well at her age. I couldn't blame her.
"I…. I was thorough in my gratitude."
"You were precious." Her needles clicked rhythmically. "Though I do recall you having quite the sweet tooth. You'd stuff your cheeks like a chipmunk and try to save half for later."
I was hungry, dammit. I skipped meals, and I trained hard. Stop bringing that shit up.
"Storage techniques are important for a shinobi."
"In your mouth?"
"It was an unconventional approach."
She was enjoying this way too much, and I was starting to feel like a kid again. An awkward kid foolishly trying to impress. I attempted to steer the conversation somewhere less mortifying.
"So, what—"
"Oh!" Her face lit up. "Do you remember the time you asked if I could teach you to make candy? You were convinced it was some sort of clan secret technique."
I was not! I was — I took a deep breath. I had merely been looking for alternatives to not starve to death.
Fuck my life. "That's... a very kind memory to share."
"You were so serious about it. Drew little diagrams and everything."
Had this old hag always been annoying? I swear she wasn't like this, or was my memory faultier than hers?
The conversation was saved by a soft knock on the doorframe. A young woman slid the door open quietly, carrying a tea tray.
"Tomoe-san seems to be having a wonderful time," she said, her voice warm with gentle amusement.
"Oh, Izumi-chan, " Tomoe laughed, setting her knitting aside. "I completely forgot about the tea! Thank you, dear. You're a lifesaver."
"It's no trouble at all, Tomoe-san," Izumi knelt by the table, setting the tray down. "I'm happy to help."
I held my breath unintentionally and strengthened my back. What is she doing here?
"You're far too kind," Tomoe said fondly. "These old bones would be lost without your help."
Tomoe caught my expression and smiled.
"Izumi-chan comes by to help with things around the house," she explained. "Such a kind girl—won't let this old woman lift a finger when she's around."
Izumi glanced up at me, and her smile softened, and the small mole under her right eye caught my attention like it usually did, as if not years had gone by. "Eishin-kun. It's been a while."
My brain stuttered.
She looked... good. Really good. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, bangs framing a face that had lost its teenage softness without losing any of its appeal. The sleeveless blue shirt she wore showed off toned arms, and there was something about the way she carried herself now — confident, centered — that made my mouth go dry.
I nodded. A little too stiffly. "Yeah…. It has."
She was even prettier than I remembered her.
"Oh my," Tomoe's eyebrows rose. "You two know each other?"
"Mm. We…. we used to train together." Izumi hummed and started pouring tea. "I was a few years older, but Eishin could keep up. Sometimes he'd even win." She glanced at me again, and there was something almost fond in her expression. "I wasn't surprised when I heard you made Jonin a few years back. Congratulations are probably overdue," she added with a small laugh. Her laughter carried the same calm as before, steady enough to make me forget how long it'd been. "I hope it's not too late for them."
I laughed too, sheepish, oddly self-conscious. Rubbed the back of my head. "Thanks. Better late than never, right?"
Tomoe picked up her cup, eyes flicking between us. "Well, Izumi-chan, why don't you join us? It seems you two have quite a bit to catch up on." Her voice took on that teasing grandmotherly tone. "And you'll have to tell me what happened that kept you apart all these years."
I stiffened.
Why the hell was she pushing this? It wasn't her business. But I kept my mouth shut and looked at Izumi, waiting for her answer.
"I'd love to," She laughed softly, shaking her head. "But I have a few errands to run. Maybe another time."
Disappointment bit harder than I expected.
"Oh, but surely—" Tomoe started.
"Another time, perhaps," Izumi said with another polite smile. She looked at me, and something in her expression softened. "It really is good to see you again, Eishin-kun."
"Yeah," I said. "You too."
Then she was gone, sliding the door shut behind her with barely a whisper.
I crushed the disappointment down and reached for my tea.
"Such a lovely girl," Tomoe sighed, taking a sip. "Makes excellent tea, too."
I took a sip. It was good. Smooth, faintly floral. "Mm." I agreed neutrally, trying not to attach any sentiment to the observation.
"She's been helping me quite a bit lately," Tomoe continued. "Especially now that she's been… released from the Police Force."
I frowned. It felt like I was being led here, but I asked anyway. "Released?"
"Mm." Her expression darkened slightly. "That's what they call it. 'Released from responsibility.' But really, they stripped her of her position."
I set my cup down. "Why?"
"The higher-ups." She said it with palpable disdain. "After they removed Fugaku-sama, they've been systematically removing other hardworking, talented Uchiha from the force. Izumi-chan was just the latest. Now they've pushed her into field missions instead."
I felt something twist in my chest. "She'll be fine. Izumi's a capable Kunoichi. And the higher-ups… they're just trying to balance things. It'll work out."
Even as I said it, I knew how weak it sounded.
Tomoe smiled at me like I'd just told her the moon was made of cheese. She shook her head, took a sip of her tea. "I used to think that way too, Ei-chan. Back when I was your age. Back when there were thrice as many Uchiha as there are now." Her gaze grew distant. "Back when my husband was still alive. Back when 'peace' still felt like something we could trust."
Her expression hardened.
"But the world we live in is neither kind nor forgiving." She looked at me with something that felt uncomfortably close to pity. "And life has a way of showing us its claws when we least expect it."
I'd underestimated this woman. Badly. I'd never really thought about her beyond 'nice old lady with candy,' but I should have expected this wasn't just a social visit. Not that I minded visiting the elderly. I was a good citizen, after all.
"Truly," I forced a smile. "You don't need a messenger when rumor does the walking."
"Oh, child, here rumor doesn't walk. It leaps rooftops."
I snorted.
"What you did was extraordinary," she said, and her tone was genuinely warm. "A great service to the village. On behalf of the village, you have my thanks for that. And… my apologies as well for the storm it will bring."
It honestly felt good to hear that, though I doubt she can speak on behalf of the whole village. I shook my head, mustering some optimism. "You don't need to worry about that, Tomoe-san. Any diplomatic complications can be handled. I have complete faith in the Hokage."
She smiled. Sad. Almost pitying.
"Your faith in him is admirable, Ei-chan. Truly." She paused, setting her cup down with care. Then added as a footnote. "Just as Hizashi Hyūga had. Twelve years ago."
My blood ran cold. My posture stiffened.
I didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to be reminded.
Obito not unleashing the Kyūbi had changed a lot. Minato survived. Kushina survived. The village stayed stronger. But some things… some things stayed the same.
The Hyūga Affair.
Kumo tried to kidnap Hinata. Hiashi killed their Head Ninja. Kumo demanded his corpse as restitution—because of course they fucking did, those vultures wanted the Byakugan. And in the end, Hizashi offered himself. Blew himself up to protect his brother and his clan's secrets.
And Minato had done nothing. Or if he had, it wasn't enough. Because doing more would've meant war.
I hadn't killed some diplomat or foreign dignitary. No. I'd killed the head of an entire fucking state.
Suddenly, my excuse felt like tissue paper in a typhoon.
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