"What's with that look, old man? I was only joking." With a smirk, Hidetada rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as the solemn air that had crystallized between them seemed to dissolve into the cool evening, "Calm down, I'll never betray my village."
Relaxing his tense muscles, Hiruzen leaned back into the polished grain of his wooden chair, a deep frown etching lines into his weary face. "You shouldn't be making jokes on things like this."
Hidetada shrugged, his fingers rhythmically tapping against the smooth lacquer of his chair's arms. The sharp sound echoed through the silence of the quite garden. "It still is something that has crossed my mind. The thought of not being aligned to any village, of being able to do anything and wreak havoc on the other nations without Konoha getting the blame for it, would make everything much easier and better."
Steepling his fingers, Hiruzen shook his head at the statement, his eyes distant as he stared past him. "Even then, the frustration of the other Hidden Villages will be focused directly on our village, as they will target the place where you were born and where all your friends and allies stay. It is a flawed logic."
With a sigh, Hidetada stopped the restless tapping of his fingers. He offered a helpless smile, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face. "As I said, it's just a thought that crossed my mind. I would never, ever seriously consider it."
Resting his head on his fist weakly, he continued, his voice dropping to a somber murmur. "It's strange, is it not? I do something and it will have bad effects; I don't do anything and it will still have bad effects. All these decisions lead to the same conclusion."
Hiruzen nodded his head wearily at that and stared up at the vast, indigo sky, lost in contemplation. "You are doing the right thing by staying here, Hidetada. Do not hold it against yourself, or let anyone speak down to you for it. The villages are fighting against each other at this moment, and they will continue to do so until you interfere. The moment you do enter the battlefield, however, their entire focus will be shifted to annihilating Konoha first, and you yourself know the consequences if that were to occur."
Shaking his head helplessly, Hidetada waited for him to continue, listening to the soft rustle of the surrounding shrubbery. "Without a doubt, we are winning this war through the prowess and sacrifice of our shinobi. Give it a few more years and this war will be over. However, if we were to send you to the front lines, the only thing it would do is add fuel to this fire."
And so they both sat in silence, contemplating the words exchanged between them. The heavy scent of damp earth and blooming night jasmine filled the air, its smell filling their nostrils.
It was not long before Hiruzen stood up, his joints popping slightly.
Scratching his cheek with a finger, Hiruzen desperately wished he had brought his smoking pipe with him. The habit was a hard one to ignore in moments of stress. Nevertheless, he nodded towards the boy and spoke with a mirthless smile, "It has been good meeting you, Hidetada, but the duties of a Hokage are beckoning me."
A slump appeared on his shoulders as he glanced at the sky and thought about the mountain of paperwork that was begging to be finished. The night was brilliant, with the silver light of the moon illuminating the garden in gentle, shimmering waves that turned the koi pond into a sheet of liquid glass. The stars twinkled merrily, cold and uncaring of the suffering of the mortals standing beneath them. The world moved on, a grand machine of time, and no one had the power to stop its gears.
With a nod of his own, Hidetada leaned back against his grandfather's chair, making it rock gently with a rhythmic, low creak. "Your words have helped me lighten the burden that I feel around my shoulders, Hokage-sama. I wish you a good night."
Nodding back at him, Hiruzen dusted his white-and-red Hokage robes softly before setting off. The sound of his footsteps tapping against the smooth river rocks placed in the dirt rang out rhythmically, sending a wave of sleepiness through Hidetada. The Hokage could not see the glint in the Senju's eyes as he continued walking with his back turned. It did not take long for the Hokage to fade into the shadows of the compound. Left alone, Hidetada allowed his eyes to drift shut. The soothing sounds of the creak and rustle of the trees, the gentle caress of the wind against the leaves, and the pale kiss of the moonlight lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
...
Mito walked towards the courtyard of the compound, her silk robes drifting against the floorboards. She found Hidetada sitting in the high-backed chair near the pond, his chin tucked against his chest. Stepping closer, she realized that he had fallen into a heavy sleep. Brushing a stray strand of dark hair that had fallen across his face, she couldn't help but admire how at peace he looked, his features softened by the absence of the day's heavy thoughts.
It made her feel a sharp pang of guilt as she thought about the conversation between him and Hiruzen that she couldn't help but overhear. The feeling of helplessness intensified inside of her as she reflected on the isolation of his life.
To have your parents assassinated just because of the bloodline you possessed, and having to grow up in secluded luxury because it was too dangerous to be let out without guards, he had never truly made any friends his age. The boy was a prisoner due to his own potential.
Shaking her head weakly, Mito Uzumaki extended her arms and wrapped them around him gently, lifted him onto her back and almost falling due to the unexpected. When had he grown so heavy? Though she could not remember when exactly was the last time she had carried him on her back.
The sound of her bare feet slapping against the cold, polished wooden floor rang out against the empty silence of the once-lively complex. Mito had never truly developed a deep attachment to most of the Senju; even her marriage with Hashirama had been politically cold, albeit they had never hated each other. However, it still brought her sadness to see her grandson despair over the loss of his fellow clan members, many of whom were the only peers he had ever known.
Mito took a turn and walked towards the entrance of the hallway, the shadows stretching long under the flickering lanterns. How had she developed such a close bond with Hidetada? It was difficult to say. She had always kept almost everyone in Konoha a hand's distance away from her, yet this fifteen-year-old boy had somehow managed to worm his way into her heart.
Perhaps it happened because she had raised him since his childhood? No, that would not be entirely correct; she had raised her own children and loved them, yet it was not quite what she felt towards Hidetada. Maybe it had something to do with her late husband, Hashirama? He had been pleasant, if not a little awkward, but their bond had never truly developed because of the attention he could never give; it was always "Madara this" and "Konoha that" with him.
Yet, Mito loved Hidetada more than she ever had loved anyone. There was nothing she wouldn't be willing to give up for his happiness.
Coming face to face with the closed door of his room, she slid the panel sideways and entered the darkened space. Once Mito was inside, she carefully and gently deposited Hidetada onto his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Stepping back, she threw one last lingering glance at his sleeping form before exiting and closing the door behind her with a soft click.
...
He woke up to the feeling of a soft, cool palm caressing his face. Without much effort, he could identify almost immediately who it was. The chakra signature was a familiar, massive presence that had accompanied him since his childhood.
It was not every day that a normal person would wake up to the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails touching them early in the morning. Alas, he was no normal person.
'Wait, that sounded a little weird.'
Snapping his eyes open and blinking them a few times to return his vision to normal, Hidetada Senju took note of his surroundings. No longer was he sitting on the rocking chair where he had fallen asleep; instead, he was lying on the comfortable mattress of his own bed, the morning light filtering through the window.
Flicking his eyes upward, he came face to face with his grandmother, Uzumaki Mito. The years had not dulled her beauty or her fierce spirit. The blue light of her eyes still possessed a youthful vigor, and her face remained sharp and clear, with barely any wrinkles indicating her true age. Even the fiery red color of her hair, tied back meticulously in a bun, was as vibrant as ever. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she sat beside him.
Running a hand through his own long hair, Hidetada smiled back at her mischievously. "It seems to me that you're aging backwards, Grandma. You are not sacrificing the blood of virgins now, are you?"
Her hand, which had been caressing his face, moved up briefly to flick his forehead with a sharp thwack before she withdrew it entirely. Momentarily, he missed the warmth of her touch. The smile on her face turned sharp as she shot back, "And it seems to me that your tongue is becoming sharper and sharper day by day. You better learn to keep it inside your mouth, or someone might snatch it away."
With a roll of his eyes, Hidetada sat up with the support of his hands and stretched, his joints popping with satisfying cracks. Feeling the stiffness leave his limbs, he turned his attention back to her. "When did you bring me in? I don't remember anyone carrying me."
With an exasperated shake of her head that sent her red hair and earrings swaying hypnotically, Mito stood up and started walking towards the door. "You should take better care of yourself. It would not be good if you fell sick because of your careless habits."
A snort escaped him as he stepped off the bed and hurried to wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as she tried to push him away in a mocking, playful manner. "You know it is almost impossible for me to fall sick, especially with my healing factor. Actually, when was the last time I even fell sick?"
His grandmother scoffed with mock annoyance but gave up on her efforts to shake him off. Together, they started walking towards the kitchen. "Never. You have never fallen sick, even when you were a child whose diapers I used to change."
Her expression softened as she remembered the times when Hidetada used to be just a small, cute infant. She couldn't help but throw a glance his way, appreciating the sharp contours and strength of his face; he had grown so much already.
Resisting her urge to pull his cheeks, she finally managed to distance herself from him and wrinkled her nose at him. Her soft red lips parted as she spoke in an annoyed voice, "You should take a bath to clear your head, you stink." Shaking her head, she turned away before continuing amusedly, "Do I have to remind you about everything? I fear what will happen to you if I am not there."
Hidetada laughed, the sound ringing crisply through the hallways as he started walking toward the bathroom. "Good thing you're here, then."
Shaking his head with a smirk, he continued on his way, thinking to himself, 'What was she even talking about? I don't stink at all.'
With a shrug, he decided to disregard the thought and opened the door to the bathroom. There was so much he needed to think about in peace.
Once Hidetada was inside the steaming, heated water of the bathtub—which was more of a small pool than a tub—he leaned back and released a long, pleased sigh. The water was the perfect temperature, as always; his grandmother really knew the exact level of heat he needed. It was almost scary.
Running a hand through his wet hair, Hidetada sank further into the water until only his nose remained above the surface. The steam rose in thick, swirling clouds, clinging to the ceiling.
It was strange. When he had died in his previous life, being reincarnated into the Naruto world of all things was not what he was expecting at all.
'Hidetada Senju, huh. Not a bad name.' The first one to two years had been agonizing, with him barely being able to make sense of the sensory overload around him. As his motor skills and senses improved, so did his understanding of the language.
He had never learned Japanese in his previous life, though he had been able to recognize that the language used by the people of this world was phonetically identical.
After that, it was only a matter of piecing the puzzle together and finally being able to understand the flow of conversation. By that point, he had already concluded he was in the world of Naruto just through observation—the headbands and the Jutsu were hard to miss—but learning the language had finally confirmed it.
Learning that he was the younger brother of Tsunade, and that he had somehow inherited the infamous and legendary Wood Style, had been a pretty, troubling realization though.
...
There is only one thing I can say, is that, we don't know everything that goes on inside the MC's head.
...
Word Count: 2340.