Hey, Hii Kōri wasn't just saying things randomly—he came prepared.
Asking to take that forge served two purposes. On one hand, he genuinely needed it. On the other, it was a test.
This family's ability to accept Sunagakure commissions wasn't just due to the village's favoritism—they ran a genuinely capable smithy.
Unlike the small coal furnaces common at ordinary blacksmiths, their forge was a large-scale setup capable of processing large quantities of materials at once, incorporating auxiliary equipment like power hammers. Even after removing the flues embedded in walls and the water tank on the roof, its total weight exceeded seven tons.
Under normal circumstances, even a taijutsu-specialist jōnin couldn't carry equipment this bulky and heavy from the Country of Rivers back into Wind Country.
Unless they sealed it in a scroll.
To be precise, this type of "storage" device was a composite product of sealing techniques and space-time ninjutsu. Through sealing techniques, objects were stored in extradimensional spaces opened within scrolls, enabling large-scale material storage.
Such items were common among puppeteers or ninja who used a large number of tools. Even certain powerful weapon holders would specially use scrolls for safekeeping and portability.
You could say scrolls represented the most widespread applied extension of space-time ninjutsu in the entire ninja world.
Correspondingly, though these scrolls had no specific connection between "manufacturing" and "usage"—users only needed sealing technique experience—their widespread circulation didn't mean they were cheap, accessible tools.
Scrolls with capacity for only a few shuriken and a dozen kunai were indeed cheap. But as capacity increased, scroll value multiplied exponentially—even dozens of times.
Meaning: a ninja carrying a scroll capable of holding that forge was either wealthy or powerful.
Either way, huge asset for Hii Kōri.
Though the puppet Chiyo had used earlier was quite crude, and she seemed somewhat unreliable, her manipulation technique, skilled medical ninjutsu, and the strong presence Hii Kōri vaguely sensed all indicated she was no ordinary fighter. This test just added another layer of insurance.
Besides, from Chiyo's words and deeds earlier, he'd sensed some inexplicable kindness.
Under the circumstances, not leveraging that would be wasteful.
Once at Sunagakure, his identity should ensure relative stability. But one could never have too many allies.
Trouble avoided early was always good.
"Hm? I don't mind, but you'll need to spend some time at the Ninja Academy first."
Unaware of Hii Kōri's calculations, Chiyo assumed he wanted strength to avenge his parents.
Given how easily he'd spotted her puppet's mechanisms, he seemed to have a talent for puppet technique. Teaching him wouldn't be bad.
Thinking this, Chiyo—busy unrolling a large sealing scroll—answered without turning around.
After considerable effort, using chakra threads to detach the forge from walls and floor and pack it into the scroll, she turned to find Hii Kōri slowly dragging his parents' bodies together, arranging them atop the fuel pile.
"What... are you doing?"
Uzumaki ninja corpses made decent research materials. Chiyo had planned to send a clone back to recover them after leaving with Hii Kōri.
"...Burning them. The whole house too."
Dragging two stiff bodies several times his own weight was too much for a six-year-old. Hii Kōri braced one hand on his knee, wiped sweat from his forehead with the other, and answered breathlessly.
"Burn everything here to ash... I don't want any memories of this place left."
"Besides, since they're already dead, going cleanly to the pure land is good."
He straightened up, turning to meet Chiyo's gaze. The setting sun slanted through the open door, casting his backlit figure in shadow—only those gray eyes gleaming unusually bright. "Don't you think so, Sensei?"
"Ah... you're right."
The gray-haired kunoishi paused momentarily, then stepped forward and gently ruffled his hair.
She didn't know if the child suspected his parents' bodies might be taken as experimental materials, or simply wanted to fulfill final filial duties. Either way, these tender young emotions shouldn't be tainted.
They'd already secured a living "Uzumaki." No need to destroy Sand's image in this child's heart over two corpses.
Reasoning with herself thus, Chiyo crouched and patted Hii Kōri's shoulder, speaking softly: "Let Sensei help you."
"...Thank you."
A smithy never lacked fuel. After brief preparation, Chiyo arranged ignition points throughout the building sufficient to burn everything completely.
By the path outside, Chiyo took out a lighter and glanced inquiringly at Hii Kōri. He nodded, took the lighter from her, and ignited the fuse at his feet.
The sputtering sound rapidly retreated. After brief silence, brilliant flames erupted from the smithy.
Fire surged like a devouring monster, swaying savagely. Waves of heat rolled outward, lifting the hair hanging at Hii Kōri's forehead.
Yet his face, illuminated in vivid orange-red, showed no expression. He simply watched silently as his parents' remains atop the funeral pyre by the doorway gradually blackened.
Now there's truly no trace left.
Having inherited the original owner's memories and body, witnessing all this—to claim Hii Kōri felt nothing would be untrue.
Though the road ahead remained unclear, at this moment at least, he would mourn.
Chiyo didn't rush him.
The gray-haired kunoichi stood beside the child, watching his deathly still expression—as if life held no more joy or sorrow—considering how to care for him afterward, how to untie his emotional knots and help him integrate into Sand more quickly.
"We... should go."
After waiting long, until the pyre and bodies reduced to mere embers, Chiyo bit her lip and extended her hand to Hii Kōri.
"Yes, Sensei."
Chiyo's hand wasn't large, but it still enveloped his childish palm.
He took a deep breath, then turned—together with Chiyo, his back to the still-burning smithy—and walked toward the distance.
Never looking back.