The headache from the memory feedback was still throbbing behind my eyes, a dull, rhythmic reminder that abusing shadow clones was a dumb-and-dumber game. I rubbed my temples as I walked down the hall, the voices from the entryway drifting toward me.
Shiho was already at the front door, her voice carrying that soft, helpful but nervous tone she always used with strangers.
"How can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft, polite to a fault, which often made her so damn pinchable. "Um, is there... are you looking for someone?"
"Forgive the intrusion at such an hour," Tsunami said, bowing slightly. "I'm looking for... is this Eishin-san's home? I was told this was the address, but I might have made a mistake—"
"Oh!" Shiho perked up immediately, her shoulders straightening, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. "Yes! This is Eishin—Eishin-san's house. May I—"
"Tsunami! Inari!"
I stepped past Shiho, a grin stretching across my face that ignored the pounding in my skull. My eyes locked onto the woman standing on my doorstep, and fuck, if the sight of her didn't soothe the headache better than any medical jutsu.
Tsunami stood there in a long dark blue skirt just past her knees and a pink blouse with dark red trim that managed to be modest while doing absolutely nothing to hide the swell of her hips. She looked tired. Travel-worn, with shadows under her eyes that only accentuated her cheekbones. She was a tragic beauty, an older woman whose sorrow gave her a fragility that made you want to wrap her in cotton or pin her against a wall until she forgot to be sad.
Beside her, Inari scuffed his shoe against the concrete, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.
Both women jumped slightly at my voice. Tsunami's head snapped up, her dark eyes widening as they landed on me.
"You finally made it," I said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, letting my eyes rake over her just enough to be appreciative without being rude. "I was starting to worry you'd come to your senses and realized Konoha is too loud for a sensible woman like you."
Tsunami stared at me for a long moment, her breath hitching. Then, the tension in her shoulders bled out, replaced by a wry, weary smile. She was pretty in that understated way middle-aged women could be, features that had weathered hardship without losing their softness.
"Eishin-san," she said, that wry smile deepening just slightly. "After how much you insisted last time, I couldn't very well refuse, could I?" The words held gentle teasing, but then her expression shifted to something more serious. "I heard... Anko-san told us there were complications. That you were injured."
"It was nothing serious," I said, waving a hand dismissively. I straightened up and closed the distance between us until I stood close enough to smell the travel dust on her clothes and the faint scent of salty sea air that still clung to her hair. She didn't retreat; instead, she tilted her head back to look at me. "Missions have complications sometimes. That's just how it goes." I softened my tone, lowering my voice. "I hope you're not too upset that I made you wait longer than expected."
Tsunami didn't look convinced. Her lips pressed together in that way mothers did when they knew you were downplaying something. But she didn't press. She shook her head, black hair swaying. "Far from it. I was just...When I heard... I worried that..." She trailed off, eyes searching mine, voice dropping to a whisper. "I worried my bad luck had followed you. That I might not see you again."
"Mom," Inari groaned beside her, drawing out the word with all the mortified horror only a twelve-year-old could muster. "Oh my god. Stop being weird."
Tsunami coughed, her cheeks coloring as she registered what she'd said in front of her son. "I—I just meant that the mission sounded dangerous, and with everything that happened, I was concerned about—Inari, stop looking at me like that."
Tsunami froze, the color rising high on her cheeks as she realized what she just said and that she had been gazing soulfully into my eyes in front of her twelve-year-old son.
"I—I just meant that the mission sounded dangerous, and with everything that happened, I was concerned about," She coughed into her fist, stepping back and smoothing her skirt with jerky, embarrassed movements. "Right. Yes. Of course," she stammered, the composed mother mask slamming back into place, though it was a bit crooked. "Forgive me. The journey was long, and my thoughts are... scattered."
I smiled despite myself. After the insanity with Mebuki—a mother who'd eagerly degraded herself in front of her daughter without an ounce of shame—it was refreshing to see someone with actual maternal dignity. It was like drinking a glass of cold water. It was palate-cleansing. Just a normal, loving mother trying her best not to be a burden. It lessened the headache that had been building all day, made the world feel a little less fucked up.
Nice.
I turned slightly, reaching out to place a hand on the small of Shiho's back. My little nerd had been shifting nervously from foot to foot, clearly unsure what to make of these strangers showing up at our door. Time to solve that problem.
Shiho stiffened at my touch, then leaned into it, seeking reassurance.
"Let's do this properly," I said. "Tsunami, Inari... this is Shiho." I paused, letting the silence hang for a second, feeling the warmth of Shiho's body against my palm. "My woman."
"Nice to meet….to meet y—eeh?" Shiho started to bow, opening her mouth to offer a polite greeting and then my words registered. She made a sound like a dying tea kettle as an explosive blush detonated across her face, turning her pale skin bright red from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and then she simply stopped functioning, dipping her head so low her chin hit her chest, unable to process the explicit claim.
My smile widened. My cute little bookworm wanted recognition of our relationship, craved it desperately in that insecure way of hers, but she absolutely could not handle actually getting it in public. Fucking adorable.
Tsunami's eyebrows rose, "Oh," she said softly. "I see." A flicker of surprise crossed her features. She clearly hadn't expected me to be quite so forward. Beside her, Inari was giving me weird looks.
I gestured to them with my free hand. "Shiho, this is Tsunami and her son, Inari. They'll be staying with us from now on."
Technically, I could have introduced Tsunami the same way I'd introduced Shiho. Also my woman. Because that's what she was, or at least, that's what she would be again once she settled in. I'd established that pretty thoroughly back in Wave. But Tsunami wasn't Mebuki. She had dignity. She had a son standing right there who was already traumatized enough without knowing his mom was mine. He would figure that out eventually, but it would be a less humiliating and smoother process.
"N-nice to meet you both." Shiho finally found her voice, though it came out as barely more than a mewl. "Please... welcome."
"It's nice to meet you as well, Shiho-san." Tsunami pursed her lips, a mixture of relief and polite confusion on her face, but she bowed gracefully. "Thank you for having us. We will try not to be a burden."
"Nice to meet you," Inari mumbled, following his mother's lead with a quick, jerky bow.
"Alright, don't just stand at the door," I said, reaching for their bags. They were small, pathetically so, everything they owned packed into two makeshift bags. We'd have to fix that. Maybe a shopping trip with Shiho would be good for bonding. And besides, I had promised Tsunami yukatas; this was the chance to do good on that promise. "This is your home now. Get in here."
"Oh, we can carry those—" Tsunami started, reaching for her bag.
"I've got it," I cut her off, already moving past her into the entryway. "Seriously, get inside before someone thinks I'm running some kind of refugee operation."
Tsunami hesitated, then stepped across the threshold, "Sorry for intruding," she said, Inari following close behind.
"Speaking of our mutual friend..." I set their bags down inside and glanced around. "Where's Anko?"
Tsunami turned back toward the street, glancing around as if she might spot purple hair materializing from the shadows. "I'm not sure," she said, her voice carrying a half-apologetic, half-irritated undertone. "Anko-san led us here and then... she simply vanished without words."
Of course she did. The snake woman had a talent for disappearing when there was meaningful social interaction to be navigated. Or perhaps she was just avoiding me after all.
Inari had stopped paying attention to the adults entirely, his eyes tracking across the entryway and down the hall, taking in the spacious traditional architecture with poorly concealed awe. The kid was trying to maintain his guarded cool-guy persona, but his wonder kept leaking through the cracks.
"You must be exhausted," I said, catching the way Tsunami shifted her weight, trying to hide a wince. "The journey from the coast is brutal even for ninja, let alone civilians."
"It was... rigorous," Tsunami admitted, smoothing her hands over her skirt, her manners holding firm against her fatigue. "But we are grateful for the safety."
I looked at Shiho, who was still recovering from her earlier short-circuit, though the radioactive blush had faded to a more manageable pink. "Give them the tour, would you, Shiho? Help them get settled. There are plenty of rooms—they can pick whichever ones they like."
Inari's eyes lit up. "Wait... seriously?" The guarded mask cracked completely, revealing the twelve-year-old underneath all that trauma and forced maturity. "Really? We can just... pick?"
The naked hope in his voice made something twist in my chest. Kid had probably never had a space of his own in his life.
I nodded. "Any room that's not already occupied. Your own room, your own space. No sharing unless you want to."
"That's—" Inari's grin was blinding, genuine joy transforming his entire face. "That's so cool! Mom, did you hear—"
"Inari," Tsunami chided softly, her hand fluttering to his shoulder. "Do not be greedy."
"But Mom, did you see the size of this place? We can—"
"Inari, that is enough," Tsunami cut in, her voice sharpening with maternal correction. She bowed her head to me, her expression pained. "Please, Eishin-san, we cannot impose to such a degree. We are already indebted to you." She looked down, wringing her hands together. "A small storage space or a corner of a hallway will suffice for us. We do not wish to be in your way, or to occupy rooms meant for... for important guests."
The joy on Inari's face guttered out like a snuffed candle. His shoulders hunched, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, mumbling an apology.
I looked from the boy to the mother, who was desperately trying to shrink herself to fit into the margins of my life. She was so used to being a burden, or thinking she was one. So used to loss that she was afraid to take up space lest the world notice her and take something else away.
"No. That won't do." I shook my head, my jaw setting.
"But, Eishin-san—"
"I said no."
I cut her off, my voice taking on an edge that brooked no argument. I closed the distance between us in two steps, entering her space, and placed my hand on her thin, bony shoulder. She was all sharp angles under that modest blouse, a woman who'd been worn down by hardship and loss, who'd learned to make herself small to avoid being a burden.
Not in my house.
"These walls would never host guests more important than its residents, than you." I said, my voice dropping an octave, putting some bass into it. "You aren't refugees camping in my lobby. You live here now. This is your home. And in my house, my people don't sleep in storage closets."
I let my thumb brush against her collarbone, feeling her pulse jump beneath the touch. "You are the lady of this house just as much as anyone else. You will take a proper room, you will sleep in a real bed, and you will let me worry about who is imposing on whom. Do you understand?"
Tsunami's lips parted, dark eyes widening as she looked up at me. I could see the protest forming, the instinct to defer and minimize warring with something that wanted to accept, to lean into the authority.
The defiance in her eyes wavered, then broke, replaced by something softer. Relief. It had likely been a long time since a man had taken the burden of decision away from her, since someone had told her she was allowed to exist without apologizing for it.
She let out a long, shaky sigh, her shoulders dropping under my hand. "Eishin-san is... just as uncompromising as I remembered."
"It's part of my charm."
"It is…." She offered a small, tired smile, the first genuine one I'd seen tonight. "Very well. Since the master of the house insists... we will accept your kindness."
"Good." I stepped back, releasing her shoulder, and turned to Shiho. "Help them get settled? Show them around, make sure they have everything they need. I'm going to track down our wayward snake."
"Y-Yes! Of course!" Shiho squeaked, jumping to attention. She straightened up, relief flooding her features at having a concrete task. Then gestured down the hallway, her voice gentle and welcoming despite her earlier embarrassment. "Please, follow me, Tsunami-san. The rooms this way get the morning sun..."
Tsunami bowed again, this time to Shiho. "Thank you for your kindness."
Inari was already halfway down the hall, trying not to look too eager as Shiho led them deeper into the house. The kid glanced back at me, eyes bright with cautious hope.
I winked at him.
His grin returned full force, and he nodded before hurrying after his mother.
I watched them disappear around the corner, then turned and walked back out the front door.
The evening air was cool against my skin as I hopped up onto the roof, landing silently on the ceramic tiles. The neighborhood sprawled below, peaceful and quiet and rather ghostly.
And one specific shadow that was crouching on the peak of my roof, eating a stick of dango.
"You know," I drawled, jamming my hands into my pockets as I strolled across the tiles toward her. "For an elite special jounin, you're pretty shit at peeping. Or perhaps were you still sulking, huh? Hoping I'd come up here and give you some attention?"
Anko chuckled. "Won't you love that, lover boy."
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