The day her mother died, she hid in a cupboard, not daring to make a sound from beginning to end.
All those years, walking down the street, there were always whispers behind her back, gazes always filled with scrutiny and wariness.
This Village had never given her any warmth.
But in this moment.
Standing in the heavy rain.
Looking at the blood-covered person in front of her.
For the first time, she felt.
It didn't seem so cold here after all.
"Let's go. I will always protect you."
Shinji turned around.
The kubikiribōchō was pulled from the mud, making a faint sound. He hoisted the blade onto his shoulder and took two steps forward.
His left arm hung limp, swaying gently with his steps, like something that didn't belong to him.
He didn't walk fast, but he was steady. Each step sank into the mud and pulled back out with the sound of rain and sludge.
Mei Terumī stood where she was.
She watched his back being washed by the rain.
The blade wrapped in white cloth on his shoulder was already soaked by the rain; the cloth clung to the weapon, outlining its broad, thick silhouette.
His clothes clung to his back, and she could see his shoulder blades rising and falling slightly with each step.
Blood dripped from the hem of his clothes, drop by drop into the mud, quickly diluted by the rain.
She watched for two seconds.
Then she chased after him.
Her footsteps splashed into a puddle, the spray hitting her calves. She walked up beside him, side by side.
No words were spoken. She didn't ask if he needed support. They just walked.
Shoulder to shoulder.
The rain was still falling.
Falling on their shoulders, on the kubikiribōchō, on the ruins and the mud.
But it didn't seem so heavy anymore.
[After returning to the Hidden Mist Village]
[Because you possess a Sage Body, while others would need three months to recover from such injuries, you were able to move around in just three weeks, and even the scars had faded until they were barely visible.]
[Although Mei Terumī failed the mission and did not get promoted to Jonin, she never cared about such things. Moreover, on that rainy night, she found her life's goal: to save this Village.]
[You were very gratified; your introverted and insecure future Mizukage had finally started to work hard!]
[Time passed quickly, another year gone, and there seemed to be no sign of this war ending.]
[Until one night, you discovered a way to improve Mei Terumī's strength.]
The night was deep, and the training ground was empty.
When Shinji arrived, only Mei Terumī's figure was still moving in the mist.
Ever since that day in the heavy rain when she promised him and set the goal of "changing the Village"—which sounded like madness—she had been training with all her might.
She left before dawn every day and didn't return until it was pitch black. While others rested between missions, she practiced Chakra control in the corner.
The training notes left behind by Kisame Hoshigaki after he defected had been read by her countless times, the edges curled from wear.
Shinji stood at the edge of the training ground, watching her figure as she swung her blade.
Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the mist, falling on her and stretching her shadow out long.
The blade flashed on and off, every strike landing in the same spot.
That wooden post had already been hacked into a deep groove; one more strike and it would break.
Shinji watched for a long time.
Then he walked over and pulled the blade from Mei Terumī's hand.
Mei Terumī turned her head and looked at him.
In those beautiful eyes, there was exhaustion and persistence.
"You are too impatient," Shinji said.
"I have to be."
Mei Terumī's voice was a bit hoarse: "There isn't much time left."
Shinji didn't speak.
He knew what she was talking about.
The Third Ninja World War had not yet ended; lists of the fallen were posted in the Village every day, the Mizukage's rule was becoming increasingly harsh, and the purges were becoming more frequent.
They lived in an era where they could die at any moment; every second could be their last.
But he still pulled her to the corner of the training ground and had her sit down.
"Impatience won't solve the problem."
He sat down opposite her and placed the blade aside: "What you lack isn't hard work."
Mei Terumī looked at him. The moonlight shone on his face; those eyes were still the same, as calm as a deep pool.
"Then what do I lack?"
"Direction."
The corners of the training ground, the ruins in the dead of night, the camps between missions.
Whenever they had free time, the two of them would huddle together, studying things that others dared not touch.
Kekkei Genkai. Yōton. Boiling Release.
Mei Terumī's two Kekkei Genkais were already being used with divine mastery in her hands.
Her Yōton's corrosive mucus could be precise enough to melt only the Kunai in an enemy's hand without harming their skin.
Her Boiling Release's high-temperature acid mist could evaporate in an instant or slowly burn, entirely depending on how she wanted to use it.
One was Fire plus Earth, the other was Fire plus Water.
But she never felt this was the end.
That night, they sat on the roof of an abandoned house outside the Village, the moon obscured hazily by the mist.
"Yōton combines Earth and Water to produce corrosive mucus."
She crouched on the tiles, using a twig to draw the trajectory of Chakra flow on a dust-covered wooden board. The lines were crooked, but the meaning was clear: "Boiling Release combines Fire and Water to produce high-temperature steam."
Shinji sat beside her, one leg bent, the other dangling off the edge of the eaves. He looked at those lines for a long time.
"Then have you tried all three together?"
Mei Terumī looked up: "Three?"
"Earth, Water, Fire."
Shinji reached out and pointed to the three lines on the wooden board. His finger was steady as he tapped the first line: "Earth." He tapped the second: "Water." He tapped the third: "Fire."
Shinji withdrew his hand and looked at her. Relying on his own talent for Chakra nature transformation, he explained: "Yōton is the product of Earth plus Water. Boiling Release is the product of Fire plus Water. What if you fuse them once more?"
Mei Terumī froze.
She crouched there on the tiles, still holding the twig, her eyes fixed on Shinji, yet it was as if she was seeing nothing.
Something was spinning in her mind, spinning so fast that she couldn't even grasp it herself.
The Kekkei Genkai was already a height that most people would never reach in their entire lives.
Yōton, Boiling Release, Ice Release, Scorch Release. Each one was enough to make a Ninja a threat on the battlefield.
And Bloodline Selection, that was something legendary.
Fusing three natures together to create a brand new power that didn't belong to any known category.
Only a very few geniuses, such as the Third Tsuchikage Ōnoki, possessed that kind of power.
Dust Release, Earth plus Wind plus Fire, could decompose anything into atoms.
She had thought about it. How could she not have?
Every time she used Yōton, every time she released Boiling Release, she would wonder: what if she combined them? What would it be like?
But she never dared to think deeply about it. Because it was too far away.
As far away as the forever gray, misty sky of the Hidden Mist.
Visible, but unreachable.
"You mean... Bloodline Selection?"
"Yes," Shinji looked at her.
Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the mist, falling on Mei Terumī's face.
Those eyes were still the same, as calm as a deep pool, without a ripple.
But when Shinji looked at her, it seemed like something was stirring in that pool.
Very light, very faint, almost imperceptible.
He said: "What you lack isn't talent; it's someone telling you that you can try."
Mei Terumī was silent for a long time.
So long that the mist swirled around her several more times, the moon fully revealed its face from behind the clouds, and the twig in her hand unconsciously traced a mark on the wooden board.
Then she stood up.
The twig slipped from her hand, fell onto the tiles, rolled twice, and stopped at the edge of the eaves.
"…Let's try it then."