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**Chapter 30: Momoki's Past**
Rubik looked at Momoki before him—her eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed red, head drooping as she struggled to hold it up. He sighed helplessly.
Interrogate her? In this state, barely able to sit upright with her thoughts a jumbled mess, what useful information could he possibly get? Anything she said would just be drunken nonsense.
He stood and walked over to her. Sensing someone approaching, she hazily lifted her head. Those usually clear, cold eyes were now veiled in a misty haze, staring blankly at him with an unwitting vulnerability.
Rubik bent down, sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her back. With a gentle lift, he scooped her soft, warm body into his arms.
A fragrant, yielding warmth filled his embrace. Momoki wore only a thin bathrobe; through the silky fabric, he could clearly feel the curves of her body and her startling heat.
She let out an unconscious whimper, her head nestling into the crook of his neck. Her warm breath, laced with sweet alcohol, brushed his skin, while damp strands of hair tickled his collarbone.
Rubik's body tensed instantly, a surge of heat stirring uncontrollably in his lower abdomen. His throat bobbed as he inwardly cursed his overeager second brain, forcibly suppressing the rising urges.
He carried her into the bedroom and gently laid her on the soft bed. Rubik adjusted her position for comfort, pulled a thin blanket over her waist to keep her warm, then straightened up, ready to leave this space that was stirring his restless thoughts.
Just as he turned to go, a cool hand shot out from under the blanket, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength!
Rubik paused, clicking his tongue inwardly: *Here we go again? Still acting? She's committed to this drunk routine.*
Impatiently, he tried to pry her fingers loose.
"Don't... don't go..." Momoki's voice came thick with a nasal tone, slurred and unclear—nothing like her usual cool detachment. It sounded like a lost child whimpering.
At the same time, she struggled to sit up! In Rubik's stunned gaze, her soft body—radiating heat and the heavy scent of alcohol—lunged into his arms without restraint. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her face burying deep into his chest.
Rubik froze again, his heart skipping a beat alongside the heat in his gut. He instinctively reached to push her away, his hands landing on her shoulders, but then he clearly heard her muffled, broken, tear-choked murmurs from his chest:
"...Mom... Dad... don't leave me... so dark... the basement... so cold..."
"...Danzo-sama... please... so much blood... Dad's..."
"...It's all my fault... because of me... I shouldn't exist... shouldn't..."
Her voice shattered with pain, each word squeezed out amid bottomless despair and self-blame. This was no act—it was the raw truth laid bare, her hard shell stripped away by the alcohol.
Rubik's hands, poised to push her off, hung frozen in midair. The playful suspicion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a deep gravity.
Slowly, gently, he clasped the icy hand gripping his wrist. His other hand hesitated before settling lightly on her trembling back, patting awkwardly in reassurance.
"It's okay..." He lowered his voice, whispering near her ear with a softness he hadn't noticed in himself. "It's all in the past... not your fault. This is a safe place. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
The body in his arms shook harder, muffled sobs escaping. Her fragmented words pieced together like a puzzle in Rubik's mind.
—Danzo!
*Basement, so cold*—Root headquarters?
*Parents killed* *because of me*—*hostage*...
It all clicked. Senju Momoki, the girl who seemed so aloof and aloof, tasked with approaching him—her parents had died resisting Danzo, and she had been kept as the "hostage" to control them, ultimately dooming them.
She lived on, chained by the weight of "shouldn't exist," blaming herself as the root of their tragedy. This bone-deep pain and self-destructive urge, sealed behind her icy facade, had been torn open tonight by a few cups of fruit wine.
Rubik's heart grew heavy. He no longer tried to leave, holding her tight embrace as her tears soaked his shirt, letting all the long-suppressed pain and grievance pour out onto her mission target without reserve.
He held her silently, like fragile glass, offering quiet comfort with soft words. Only when her sobs faded, her tense body relaxed, and she finally drifted into deep sleep—her breaths even and wine-scented—did he move.
With utmost care, Rubik slowly peeled her off him, laying her back on the bed and tucking her in. In her sleep, Momoki's brows remained furrowed, tear tracks drying at her eyes, but the trembling had stopped. He stood by the bed, gazing at her unguarded face for a moment, his expression complex.
He slipped out of the bedroom soundlessly, closing the door softly. Back in the cold living room, Rubik went to the window, staring at the silent Konoha nightscape. Moonlight bathed half his face, his features shadowed and inscrutable. He slowly raised a hand, as if her skin's touch and the coolness of her tears lingered on his fingertips.
After a long pause, he murmured lowly, a chill edge to his voice:
"Shimura Danzo..." The name hissed through his teeth, laced with unprecedented cold fury.
Rubik didn't see himself as a good person, nor did he demand a world of saints. But people had lines they shouldn't cross—fail that, and they weren't people anymore.
The night breeze carried Konoha's grassy scent across his face, but it couldn't dispel the weight in his chest or the faint irritation simmering within.
His figure blurred, melting into the night like smoke. In moments, he vanished from Momoki's quiet courtyard. A few breaths later, he perched on the familiar rooftop of Naruto Uzumaki's home.
Moonlight washed the tiles in silver frost. A tall white-haired figure stood with his back to him, leaning against the chimney, gazing at the distant Hokage Rock. It was Jiraiya.
"Yo, kid, finally back?" Jiraiya didn't turn, his voice lazily teasing.
"Figured after bolting like that, you might not return tonight."
Rubik ignored the jab, stepping up beside him to stare at the Hokage Rock. The Third's stone visage loomed solemn and aged under the moon. After a silence, he spoke, his tone low, icy, resolute:
"Master, do me a favor."
Jiraiya finally glanced over, moonlight catching his face. The roguish grin faded, revealing a ninja's sharp gravity.
"Got something out of her?"
Rubik cut straight to it:
"Help me dig into the Root members from the Senju clan that Danzo had killed back then. Specifically... a couple who might've resisted him, and if they had a daughter held as a hostage."
Jiraiya sighed long and heavy. He looked away to the Rock, eyes complicated.
He paused, weighing his words, then decided.
"Fine." His voice turned grave and serious. "I'll handle this myself."
He turned back to Rubik, his gaze heavier than ever, laced with warning:
"But listen up, Rubik! Until we have solid intel—until the old man decides—you stay put! Absolutely do not act rashly!"
Jiraiya stepped closer, emphasizing: "Danzo isn't alone. He *is* Root—a force built over decades! Reckless moves could spark unimaginable chaos, even civil war in Konoha. This risks the whole village—and your life. Got it?"
Rubik nodded slowly: "I know the stakes. I'm not dumb enough to take on all of Root solo. Any plan to deal with Danzo, I'll run by the Third Hokage."
Jiraiya nodded approvingly, then turned and left.
Rubik gazed at the moon in the night sky, murmuring to himself.
"The shinobi world I want to build... is one where people can live properly. But Danzo... my world has no place for scum like you."
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