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Miyuki Uzumaki heard Mito say she knew where Qianyu was.
"Grandma Mito, where is he?" Miyuki blurted out, urgency cracking her voice.
"He's at the ninja hospital. He seems to have injured himself in training. He's been unconscious for days. You could—"
Mito didn't get to finish. Miyuki was already out the door, racing down the hallway.
"I'll be right back, Grandma Mito!"
Mito watched her go, a fond, indulgent smile on her lips.
Yesterday, Hiruzen Sarutobi had visited to inquire about Miyuki. Mito had taken the opportunity to ask about Qianyu.
When she learned the boy had likely pushed himself so hard in training that he'd ended up comatose in the hospital for days, her surprise was immense. What kind of training could land you in the hospital for that long?
But she'd also sensed a distinct shift in Hiruzen's attitude. Before, he'd mentioned Qianyu with an air of indifference. Yesterday, there was a new weight to his words. A hint of… regard.
Mito didn't know what had caused the change, but in her heart, it was a good thing.
She felt a pang of guilt towards Miyuki. The girl had been brought to Konoha for one primary purpose: to become the next Nine-Tails jinchūriki.
And for Qianyu… she felt a similar ache. The boy carried half the Senju bloodline. She, the wife of the First Hokage, the former leader of the Senju clan, could offer him no shelter.
She understood Hiruzen's plan perfectly. Placing Miyuki in Qianyu's class wasn't random. That class held Minato Namikaze, a prodigy from a civilian background—clean, unaffiliated, and already eyed by Hiruzen's student, Jiraiya, as a future disciple.
Hiruzen had spoken of forging bonds for Miyuki, making her feel part of the village. Minato, a pure product of the Hokage's system, was his chosen anchor. A way to tie the future jinchūriki to the village's heart, and keep the powerful clans at bay.
As Hokage, Hiruzen's will was law. Mito, the First's widow, had no grounds—and no real power—to object.
Yet, privately, Mito favored Qianyu. Not for any grand strategy. Simply because he was Senju. He was family. And if Miyuki's heart leaned his way, Hiruzen's newfound interest might smooth the path.
The boy, disowned by the Uchiha, belonged to no clan faction.
A glint of resolve shone in Mito's aged eyes. Her time was nearing its end, but she would live to see Miyuki reach adulthood. And if these two children found their way to each other… she would lend them her strength.
Miyuki rushed to the ninja hospital, her red hair a bright streak through the sterile halls. She didn't know the room number, so she flagged down a busy medic-nin.
Finding Qianyu's room was surprisingly easy. The medic's attitude, however, made her blood boil.
"Oh, the little traitor?" the woman said, her lip curling with undisguised contempt. "Last room down the hall."
The words, the look—they sat like a cold stone in Miyuki's gut.
She reached the end of the hall and pushed the door open. Qianyu lay still on the bed, arms and legs wrapped in bandages. The bedside table was barren. No flowers. No fruit. Not even a cup of water.
Only the steady, lonely beep… beep… beep of a monitor.
The sight squeezed her heart. She forced a bright smile. "I came to see you, Qianyu."
Of course, there was no answer.
Miyuki turned and fled the room. She had an errand to run.
Qianyu was swimming in a sea of pure, unrelenting agony.
His mind was awake, crystal clear, but utterly disconnected from his body—a prisoner inside his own screaming nerves. Letting the system simulate Thunder Breathing's full forms, the chakra shaping and transformation… the toll was beyond anything he'd imagined.
This was his first real taste of hell. Every muscle fiber, every organ, shrieked in protest. A constant, grinding fire.
Yet… the memory of that power, the raw, lightning-charged force of the completed Thunder Breathing techniques, made the pain feel almost worthwhile. He was only nine. If he could channel that much power now… what would he be capable of as an adult?
His consciousness had drifted back yesterday, and he'd spent every moment since reliving those sensations, itching to move, to try the forms himself.
So he was completely unprepared for the sound of the door opening, for the sight of Miyuki Uzumaki peeking in. Shock short-circuited his thoughts.
They'd shared a desk for one day. He'd politely, firmly, shut down her offer of friendship after class. By all logic, she should have written him off. Why was she here?
And she seemed… intentional. Purposeful.
Before he could ponder it further, the door opened again.
Miyuki returned, a bundle of white lilies in her arms. She found a vase, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers with careful concentration.
Settling into the chair beside his bed, she looked at his sleeping face and began to speak, her voice soft but steady.
"I didn't know what flowers to get for someone in the hospital. I told the florist my friend was hurt and staying here. She said lilies are good. They mean blessing, purity, and good luck. They're pretty, right?"
She took a small breath. "Grandma Mito said if I tried to be friends with you… a lot of people might not like it. That I should be ready for that."
Her small hands clenched into fists on her knees. "I am ready. I want to be your friend. Because that day, you were the only one who didn't laugh at me. You were the one who knocked that jerk's hand away from my hair."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice gaining strength, filling the quiet room. "Grandma Mito also said you were… a sacrifice between two clans. I don't really understand all that. But real friends don't change their minds just because of what other people say, do they?"
Miyuki Uzumaki drew herself up, a fiery declaration in her eyes, aimed squarely at the boy who couldn't hear her.
"I'm going to work really, really hard to make you my friend! Just you wait!"
In the silent prison of his mind, Qianyu felt something lurch. His heart, or the phantom memory of it, hammered against his ribs. A warmth, fragile and startling, seeped into the cold numbness he'd carried for five years in Konoha.
It was a feeling he'd almost forgotten existed.
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