The room descended into silence again, the awkward atmosphere spreading like a fog.
Saiki had a bit of a headache. He genuinely didn't understand the female mind!
Kushina's current state was entirely at odds with her usual boisterous, brash personality. Right now, she was acting like a hyper-sensitive, introverted little girl. Saiki was afraid that even speaking to her would set her off again.
Because of the Nine-Tails, Saiki couldn't just leave. The only thing he could do was suppress his aura, trying to make Kushina forget he was even there.
Saiki's concealment skills were legendary. By using Pre-natal Qi to suppress his presence, unless you were looking directly at him, ordinary sensory perception or instinct would never register someone was standing there.
As Saiki erased his presence, Kushina, curled up on the sofa, visibly relaxed.
As the minutes ticked by and the immediate embarrassment of her slip-of-the-tongue began to fade, Kushina started to realize something wasn't quite right.
He had yanked my pants down. When I saw him, he had passed out and needed our help, and I just accidentally saw him. Why the hell are we "even"?!
The more she thought about it, the more she felt she'd been swindled. Shaking off her crippling shyness, her fiery, "Red Hot Habanero" personality began to reignite.
The sofa absorbed a heavy, frustrated punch as she vented her indignation, letting out a muffled groan of protest.
She whipped her head back, her red hair flaring like fire. The misty tears in her emerald eyes had evaporated, replaced by the blazing flames of righteous fury. She locked onto the "culprit" who had masked his presence and practically blended into the wallpaper.
"Hey! You idiot Saiki!" Her voice spiked an octave, carrying the bravado of someone trying to reclaim lost ground, yet still trembling slightly from residual shame. "Y-you stop playing dumb! What I said before doesn't count! What do you mean 'we're even'?! This isn't 'even' at all!"
Here we go again. Saiki just wanted to laugh—a helpless, exasperated laugh. The Kushina he knew was never like this!
What was wrong with her today?
Well, today Saiki had simply seen a more complete version of Kushina Uzumaki.
Her usual "Red Hot Habanero" persona—the girl who was always ready to explode and punch someone—was just a defense mechanism!
She was a survivor of a destroyed nation. She had been brought to Konoha, a foreign land with no family, subjected to the cold stares and discrimination of strangers.
Furthermore, she had been turned into a Jinchuriki—a hated, feared monster placed under 24/7 surveillance.
It was entirely normal for her to have a sensitive, bashful, and fragile side.
Of course, under normal circumstances, Kushina was the optimistic, cheerful, fiercely independent, and stubborn girl Saiki had always known.
The reason she was exposing this fragile side to Saiki today was twofold. First, since they met, Saiki had never shown her a shred of discrimination; their teacher-student bond was incredibly strong.
Second, Saiki had just comforted her when she was lost and doubting everything. Their roles had temporarily reversed: Saiki became the dependable adult, and she became the little girl pouring out her grievances.
Saiki's eyebrow twitched imperceptibly. He released a fraction of his suppressed aura, projecting a mild, helpless presence.
He looked at Kushina. The "Habanero," having regained some of her color, was trying her hardest to widen her eyes, attempting to use ferocity to mask her internal chaos.
"I-I didn't do it on purpose that time! I didn't have a choice!" The more she spoke, the more Kushina felt she was in the right. Her voice regained its usual confidence, even though her cheeks were still burning. "I was trying to save you! Do you understand?! Save you! But you... you earlier... earlier..." She stalled. The mortifying image flashed through her mind again, making her voice shrill. "You did that on purpose! Y-you were being a pervert!"
Kushina was currently an enraged, puffed-up kitten. Saiki knew the only option was to stroke her fur in the right direction. Right or wrong, he had to apologize first (even though he didn't really believe he was wrong).
"Sensei Kushina, I am so sorry. What happened earlier was entirely my fault!" He offered a deeply sincere apology.
Apologizing might be slightly embarrassing, but he had indeed looked at her, and he had been at fault. Saiki didn't mind owning up to it.
If you get hit, you stand at attention. He wasn't the type to dodge responsibility.
Seeing Saiki apologize so cleanly and decisively, Kushina's fragile ego was satisfied, and she suddenly felt much more confident.
However, his apology was so sincere and prompt that the barrage of fierce accusations she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She couldn't swallow them, and she couldn't spit them out. It was incredibly uncomfortable.
She aggressively turned her head away, unwilling to let him see the uncontrollable heat rising in her cheeks once more.
Her clenched fists trembled slightly. Finally, she slammed her hand against the sofa armrest again, releasing a louder "thump" as an outlet for her frustration.
"Idiot! Moron!" she muttered, repeating her limited vocabulary of insults. But her voice had lost its sharpness, taking on a faint, almost imperceptible nasal tone, as if she were desperately suppressing something.
"...What good is saying 'sorry'..." she mumbled, her voice growing smaller and smaller, laced with a trace of genuine, subconscious grievance.
She stood up abruptly, as if wanting to use physical movement to vent the stifling pressure in her chest. But the moment she stood, a wave of weakness washed over her—the backlash from the exhausting seal repair and her extreme emotional rollercoaster had finally hit.
She stumbled. She reflexively grabbed the back of the sofa to steady herself. Her fierce, intimidating facade instantly shattered, leaving only a facade of stubborn pride.
Her emerald eyes swept over Saiki's face—which was full of sincerity and helplessness—then darted away, landing on an innocent throw pillow nearby.
A second later, the poor pillow suffered the consequences.
"Dammit!" Kushina growled. She grabbed the pillow and hurled it violently at the floor, as if it were Saiki's obnoxious face.
The soft pillow bounced harmlessly and rolled into a corner, lacking any real destructive force. It only served to highlight her complete lack of power in the situation.
"Idiot! Moron! Perverted student!" she cursed at the pillow again. But her voice lacked its earlier bite; it sounded more like a pouting child.
Having done all this, as if she had exhausted her last drop of energy—or perhaps finally found a face-saving way out—she collapsed heavily back onto the sofa with a dull thud.
She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face deep in her arms. Only her wild, fiery red hair was visible, trembling slightly.
The room was filled with the sound of her heavy, suppressed breathing.
After a long while, a muffled, heavily nasal voice emerged from the mass of red hair. Every word sounded like it was being ground between her teeth:
"...Fine... we're even... But you are never allowed to mention it again... NEVER... Do you hear me?!"
Watching Kushina throw her little tantrum, Saiki felt an inexplicable pang of heartache. She looked like a little girl who desperately wanted a piece of candy but was terrified of being scolded by an adult. She was throwing a fit, but she just looked incredibly pitiful.
They were both outsiders to the village. But Saiki possessed the memories of a past life; his childhood had lacked nothing.
Compared to Kushina, he didn't need anyone's approval or validation to live a good life.
But Kushina had no one who cared for her, no one who loved her. She truly felt her life was boring and a failure.
Because Saiki had shown her respect and genuine care, the fact that he had seen her body was a massive deal to her. Yet, she had chosen to swallow her grievance and forgive him.
So, Saiki stood up and walked toward her.
He walked over to the sofa but didn't presume to sit beside her. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor, keeping a respectful distance.
He didn't speak. He just sat there quietly, his gaze resting on an empty spot on the wall. It was as if he had merely changed locations to conceal his presence, giving her room to breathe.
Kushina's body, buried in her arms, stiffened noticeably. She could feel his approach.
The slight draft caused by him sitting down brushed against her bare ankles, making her want to jump out of her skin.
But the words or actions she anticipated—the ones that would make her want to die of embarrassment—never came.
He just sat there, as silent as a stone.
This silence carried a strange, comforting power.
No questions. No teasing. Not even a deliberate attempt at consolation.
Just a silent companionship. Like a silent reef, remaining steadfast and unmoving regardless of how violently the tides of her shame and grievance crashed against it.
In this pure silence, her hyper-tense nerves began to relax, little by agonizingly slow little.
Having her face buried for so long was making it hard to breathe, and the crook of her arms was getting uncomfortably hot.
Carefully, agonizingly slowly, she lifted her head just a fraction. Through the gap in her arms, she peeked out.
The first thing she saw were his casually crossed legs, then his defined, articulate hands resting on his knees.
Following her line of sight upward, she saw the quiet profile of the young man.
His eyelids were slightly lowered, his long lashes casting a small shadow. His nose was straight, his thin lips pressed into an emotionless line.
He just sat there. It looked as if he was lost in his own world, yet also as if he were patiently waiting.
Having already "Entered the Path," Saiki's seated posture naturally projected an aura of harmony with the universe.
This specific state of Saiki's had a profound, organic effect on Kushina. It caused her mind and body to experience an unprecedented level of relaxation.
Slowly, inch by inch, she raised her head. But she kept her arms wrapped around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor beside Saiki, not daring to move an inch higher.
The room remained quiet, the silence broken only by the rhythmic overlapping of their soft breathing.
Time flowed on. But this silence lacked the suffocating, shameful awkwardness of before. It settled into a delicate, subtle tranquility.
It was rare. Since entering the battlefield, Saiki himself hadn't sat this peacefully for a very long time.
And this state of his naturally influenced Kushina, allowing her mind and body to experience an unprecedented relaxation.
Just like that, a long time passed. When Saiki finally spoke, Kushina's tension was gone.
"Sensei, what do you usually do when you're alone?"
Kushina blinked, her emerald eyes slightly dazed. She clearly hadn't expected the question.
She subconsciously hugged her knees tighter, rubbing her chin against them. Her voice came out muffled from behind her arms, carrying the exhaustion and aimlessness of someone who had just dropped their guard. "...Do what?"
She paused for a long time. It was as if she were seriously trying to recall those endless, lonely hours, or perhaps hesitating over whether she should bare her soul to the student who had just "seen her completely."
"...Spacing out, I guess..." she finally mumbled vaguely, a hint of self-deprecation in her tone. "Or... practicing sealing jutsu in an empty room... or..."
Her voice dropped even lower, becoming almost a whisper, laced with a trace of deep-seated loneliness. "...looking out the window, counting the clouds... listening to the noise from the next street over..."
It sounded leisurely and pleasant—a life full of quiet moments. But the underlying feeling was that these things were incredibly distant from her, because this wasn't the life she actually wanted.
Saiki listened quietly. He didn't interrupt. He just let her murmur.
Listening to her, it was easy to picture the scene: a red-haired little girl, sitting alone in a massive, empty room, her only companion a raging Tailed Beast. The noise and life of the outside world belonged to other people; all that was left for her was an endless, suffocating silence and the wary, hateful glares of guards.
"...It's pretty boring, right?" Kushina suddenly lifted her head, looking at Saiki with a self-deprecating smirk.
But the moment her eyes met his, she looked away again, her fingers unconsciously picking at the seam of her pants. "...Whatever... I'm used to it."
Boring? To Saiki, it wasn't. As a modern soul exhausted by the noise and chaos of city life, he actually loved that kind of simple, clean, quiet existence.
Saiki understood that Kushina needed guidance right now. But he wasn't a Casanova, nor was he a psychologist. He genuinely didn't know how to comfort people.
However, even though he wasn't a romantic genius, Saiki understood one fundamental truth: companionship is the best cure for loneliness.
He didn't need to spout grand philosophies; he just needed to talk to her.
He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound light. He kept his eyes fixed on the empty wall, avoiding direct eye contact. "Sensei, if you're bored... do you want me to tell you a story?"
Hearing this, Kushina's depression instantly vanished, replaced by a flare of indignation. "Do you think I'm a toddler?! I don't need someone to tell me bedtime stories!"
"No, definitely not!" Although he did kind of view her that way right now, Saiki was never going to admit it. He wasn't exactly a paragon of honesty.
Seeing his overly serious, righteous expression, Kushina didn't get angry. She rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. A story. Let's hear it. But if it's garbage, you're going to be punished."
"Uh... punishment? I'm telling you a story and I get punished?" Saiki was speechless. "Besides, punishment... what exactly are you going to punish me with, Sensei Kushina?"
Kushina's brows instantly shot up. She glared at him fiercely. "What? You think I can't punish you?! Don't forget, I'm the teacher!"
She tried her best to project an aura of absolute authority, but the slight tremor at the end of her sentence and her still-flushed cheeks severely undercut the threat.
Saiki hurriedly shook his head. "I wouldn't dare! Sensei Kushina can punish me however she sees fit."
He paused. Looking at Kushina's emerald eyes—which were trying so hard to look fierce but were failing to hide a spark of genuine anticipation—he decided to stop teasing her. Telling the story was the priority.
"Alright, I'll start. This story, hmm... takes place in another world. A world that is very similar to ours, but also completely different..."