Mito Uzumaki's passing rippled through the world like a faint echo—felt by few and quickly swallowed by the silence of war.
The leaders of Konoha chose to conceal her death. With the Second Great Ninja War raging, the village could not afford to appear weakened. Losing Mito meant losing the Nine-Tails' deterrent power. And since the new Jinchuriki was only a nine-year-old girl, secrecy was the only shield left.
As rain fell gently upon the quiet cemetery, only a handful of people stood before the grave. Tsunade and Nawaki knelt on the soaked earth, tears streaming down their faces. Behind them stood the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, and Danzo Shimura, joined by four other senior Konoha officials. A little farther back stood Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Hayashi Uchiha.
Hayashi had met Mito before her passing and, as the disciple of Tsunade and Orochimaru, was permitted to attend the private funeral.
Danzo spoke first, eyes still fixed on the tombstone.
"Hiruzen, how long do you plan to keep the new Jinchuriki isolated?"
"One week," Hiruzen replied.
Danzo frowned. "That's far too short. How can we be certain the Nine-Tails can be contained in such little time?"
"The time is sufficient," Hiruzen answered calmly. "Lady Mito said Kushina's chakra is unique—strong enough to suppress the Nine-Tails with ease. If a problem arises, it'll reveal itself within a week."
Danzo's jaw tightened. "And after that? A weapon of such importance should be guarded closely. I propose sending Root operatives to watch over her. It is our duty to ensure the village's safety."
Hiruzen's eyes hardened. "Danzo, her name is Kushina. She's not a weapon."
He paused, his tone softening slightly. "Lady Mito wished for her to live freely, like a normal girl. That was her final request."
Danzo's expression twisted with frustration. "Then who will ensure her safety? I propose Root handle her protection."
Hiruzen's gaze cut through him like steel. Danzo felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"That won't be necessary," Hiruzen said at last. "Sakumo Hatake will handle it."
Danzo's face darkened, his voice cold. "You'll regret this, Hiruzen. If the Nine-Tails' vessel is ever harmed, remember that today's choice was yours."
"I am the Third Hokage," Hiruzen replied evenly. "I'll bear that responsibility. And I don't believe Konoha's defenses are so weak that an enemy could simply stroll in and take her."
With a sharp snort, Danzo turned and left, the rain swallowing his footsteps.
The ceremony ended quietly. There was no time for mourning in wartime Konoha.
On the way back, Hayashi walked beside his teacher, Orochimaru. The pale Sannin's voice rasped softly through the drizzle.
"Aging is such a cruel thing. Even someone as formidable as Lady Mito couldn't escape it."
After a pause, Orochimaru glanced at Hayashi, his golden eyes thoughtful.
"Hayashi, there's something you should remember as a shinobi."
Hayashi looked up and nodded.
"As a ninja," Orochimaru said, "tears are meaningless. You must learn to be ruthless—especially toward yourself. At first, cruelty will hurt, and you'll shed tears for what you lose. But one day, when the tears are gone, you'll stop feeling pain. You'll no longer fear death... you may even find it fascinating."
Orochimaru's cold hand rested briefly on Hayashi's shoulder. "That's all. I leave for the battlefield tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Hayashi asked quietly.
"Yes. Jiraiya, Tsunade, and I are heading for the Land of Rain. Sunagakure's forces have already entered the region." Orochimaru reached into his pouch and handed Hayashi an envelope. "Your payment for the last two missions. Tsunade took a small portion—she claims she's saving it for your future wedding."
Hayashi blinked, lips twitching. Wasn't it supposed to be for retirement?
He accepted the envelope silently.
"And this," Orochimaru continued, pulling out a pair of black-rimmed glasses, "belonged to Sakada—the one you killed. They survived the battle intact. Consider them a keepsake... your spoils."
Hayashi nodded, tucking them away. They might come in handy someday—especially if his eyes suffered strain from the Sharingan.
The two continued down the empty street, their footsteps fading into the misty night.
---
Deep beneath the surface of the world, in a shadowed cavern, an aged man sat slumped on a massive stone chair. His frail body looked as if a single breeze could turn him to dust.
Beside him, a pale creature with a spiral-patterned face poured wine into a cup. The fragrance filled the darkness.
The creature handed the cup to the old man. "Madara-sama, what does this taste like?"
Madara Uchiha's eyes opened—purple ripples gleaming within them. He took a slow sip. "It's the taste of Hashirama."
The creature tilted its head. "Didn't you hate Mito Uzumaki the most?"
"I did," Madara said calmly. "That's why her death pleases me."
"Then... why steal her wine?"
"This isn't Mito's," Madara replied. "It's what Hashirama left behind for me."
The spiral-faced being shrugged. "If you say so."
Madara drained the cup, voice low and cold. "I made a promise to Hashirama long ago—that I would not move against Konoha until Mito was gone. That time has come."
With shaking hands, he reached up and gouged out his own eyes. Blood streamed down his face as he placed the Rinnegan in a container.
"The time is right. Go and implant these into Nagato."
The pale creature nodded, taking the eyes carefully.
"Oh—and bring me a spare pair of Sharingan," Madara added, his voice echoing through the darkness.
---