A storage place for a Sasuke-level handsome guy's brain.
At dawn, a thin mist enveloped the tranquil village nestled at the foot of the mountain.
As Uta pushed open the wooden door, the morning dew still clung to the wisteria flowers in front of it.
She gathered the sleeves of her kimono, preparing to fetch firewood from the backyard, when she suddenly heard a faint groan from the straw pile.
"Is anyone there?" Uta put down the bamboo basket in her hand and cautiously approached the rustling straw pile.
When she pushed aside the dry straw, a black-haired boy was curled up there, his cheeks flushed with an unnatural redness, and his lips cracked and peeling.
"Oh my!" Uta exclaimed, immediately crouching down to touch the boy's forehead, which was burning hot. "Such a young child, how did he end up here?"
The boy was about seven or eight years old, wearing a dark blue short top and black pants she had never seen before, with a strange family crest on his back—a red and white fan pattern.
His black hair was matted to his sweaty forehead, and his long eyelashes fluttered incessantly, as if he was trapped in some painful dream.
"Mom... brother..." The boy mumbled in his coma, his voice hoarse.
Uta didn't hesitate and immediately picked up the boy. He was much lighter than he looked, and his body trembled slightly in her arms.
Uta hurried into the house, settled the boy on the floor futon in the guest room, then quickly fetched a basin of cool water, soaked a cloth, and placed it on his forehead.
"Hold on, child," Uta said softly, deftly unbuttoning the boy's top and wiping his feverish body with the wet cloth.
The boy had several bruises on his chest and arms, likely from a fall, but the most worrying thing was his abnormally high fever.
Uta remembered a fever-reducing herb on the back mountain. She rushed out and returned shortly with a few green plants.
After crushing the herbs, she carefully pried open the boy's mouth and fed him the herbal juice little by little. The boy frowned in his coma but did not wake up.
Uta stayed by the boy's side all morning, constantly changing the wet cloth on his forehead.
By noon, the boy's temperature finally dropped a little, and his breathing became steady.
Uta breathed a sigh of relief, only then noticing a strange small pouch tied to the boy's waist, containing a few shurikens and an explosive tag—
Of course, she didn't know what these were, only perceiving them as dangerous metal pieces and strange papers.
"Where exactly did you come from?" Uta asked softly, gently stroking the boy's sweaty black hair.
The boy's brow relaxed a little, but he remained deeply unconscious.
In the evening, Yoriichi Tsugikuni returned from hunting in the mountains, a wild rabbit slung over his shoulder.
As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, he sensed the presence of another person inside—a faint but erratic breathing sound coming from the guest room.
"Uta, do we have a guest?" Yoriichi put down his prey and walked into the house, asking.
Uta was in the kitchen making porridge. Hearing her husband's voice, she quickly came out: "Yoriichi, you're back. I found a sick child in the straw pile in the backyard, so I brought him in."
Yoriichi nodded calmly and walked towards the guest room.
When he saw the boy on the bed, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. There was an indescribable aura about this child, different from the children of ordinary villagers.
"He had a fever, but he's much better now," Uta explained, following him. "He was calling 'Mom' and 'Brother' in his sleep, but his accent was very strange, I couldn't quite understand him."
Yoriichi crouched down and carefully examined the boy's condition. His movements were gentle, but the boy seemed to sense something, his eyelids fluttered a few times, and he slowly opened them.
They were purely black eyes, now moist and hazy from the fever.
The moment the boy saw Yoriichi, his pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively recoiled, letting out a wary grunt from his throat.
"Don't be afraid," Uta said gently, kneeling beside Yoriichi. "We won't hurt you."
The boy's gaze moved back and forth between the two of them, his lips trembling as he uttered a few syllables, but neither Uta nor Yoriichi understood him.
It seemed to be some kind of dialect, with short and forceful syllables.
"What's your name?" Uta tried asking, slowing her speech.
The boy looked even more confused. He said a few more sentences, very quickly, then suddenly stopped, as if realizing they didn't understand.
He looked around, and a hint of panic flashed in his eyes when he saw the unfamiliar room layout and their clothing.
"Home... This isn't my home..." This time, although the boy's Japanese had a strange accent, Uta and Yoriichi could both understand it.
"Do you remember how you got here?" Uta asked softly.
The boy shook his head, then suddenly clutched his head, his expression pained: "My head hurts so much... I remember... I remember my brother... blood... blood everywhere..."
His voice choked, and tears flowed uncontrollably.
Uta lovingly pulled the boy into her embrace, gently patting his back: "It's alright, don't think about it anymore, you're safe now."
Yoriichi quietly observed all of this.
Over the next three days, Sasuke's fever completely subsided, but his body remained weak.
Uta made him nutritious meals every day, varying them, while Yoriichi often sat by, quietly watching this boy who had suddenly appeared in their lives.
Sasuke—that was the name the boy told them—gradually became able to communicate in basic Japanese, though his vocabulary was sometimes strange.
Uta noticed that Sasuke often stared into the distance, a sadness beyond his years in his eyes.
At night, she heard Sasuke crying in his sleep more than once, calling "Brother" and "Father."
On the morning of the fourth day, as Uta was hanging clothes in the yard, Sasuke slowly walked up to her. The sunlight shone on his pale face, adding a touch of color to him.
"Uta... Auntie," Sasuke began hesitantly. It was the first time he had initiative spoken to Uta. "I... I might not be from this world."
Uta stopped what she was doing and looked at him in surprise: "What do you mean, Sasuke-kun?"
Sasuke lowered his head, intertwining his fingers: "I remember... my clan was... was slaughtered. My brother... he..." His voice choked. "Then I had a very long dream, and when I woke up, I was here. Many things here are different from what I remember."
Uta crouched down, meeting Sasuke's gaze: "Are you saying you came from a very distant place?"
"Not just distant," Sasuke shook his head, his black eyes shimmering with confusion and pain. "It's another world. In my world, there are ninjas, there's chakra, there are... there are Sharingan."
He pointed to his eyes, then realized Uta couldn't possibly understand these concepts.
Uta pondered for a moment, then gently took Sasuke's small hand: "No matter where you came from, you need a home now, don't you?"
Tears suddenly welled up in Sasuke's eyes: "But my family... they all..."
"I know how painful it is to lose family," Uta said softly, pulling Sasuke into her embrace. "If you're willing, you can consider this your home. Yoriichi and I... we've always wanted a child."
Sasuke stiffened for a moment in Uta's embrace, then slowly relaxed.
The embrace was so warm, reminding him of his mother's hug from a long time ago.
He instinctively clutched Uta's kimono lapel and cried silently.
That night, Yoriichi was processing herbs in the backyard. These herbs could be exchanged for some money at the village apothecary.
The family needed cloth to make some clothes for the child.