Sweet Fragrance of Lies
Her grandfather woke her up early, the end of his cane digging harshly into her spine. It hurt enough to bruise, but Umeko was no stranger to his cane’s bruises. It was a struggle to pay attention so soon after waking from sweet dreams of karaage and daifuku, but Umeko commanded her bleary eyes to open wide lest the cane strikes her again.
Scrambling from the futon, Umeko hurriedly kneeled in front of her grandfather and folded her hands in her lap demurely. “Good morning, Grandfather.”
He hummed to himself, before thwacking her on the thigh to ensure she was fully awake. “You must leave for the test soon, so let me tell you of the bell test.”
“The bell test?” Umeko parrotted before pinching her lips closed at another thwack on her thigh.
“It is a foolish and sentimental test that I suspect Kakashi will use as the genin test.” At the idea of such foolish sentimentality, her grandfather ground the end of his cane into the wood by her bed. “I want you to get stronger and learn on your own, but I will not have you held back, either, by some insipid ideas of the power of teamwork.”
“I—” With another thwack, Umeko stayed silent. She didn’t know what she meant to say anyway. From classes, the reasoning for four-man squads didn’t sound as silly as her grandfather claimed. However, her grandfather made some good points too — the only way to the top was to use others as stairs.
Umeko quieted her thoughts and listened. Whether teamwork was good or not, an advantage was always a plus. If this was the test, and her grandfather was fairly certain it would be, then she would easily pass the bell test. All she had to do was tell the others to work together.
Keeping her thoughts on the bell test should have helped her mind from wandering when she passed the house on the way to the meeting place. It didn’t.
The house looked well-suited to its red shingled roof and white walls. Her feet stopped without her telling them to, and she lingered outside.
This had been her house once. Inside, she knew there was a door with her height marked, and she could smell burnt bread baking in the oven. A terrible acrid smell that brought soft, warm memories to mind. An intense yearning filled her when she passed this house — a yearning for Umeko’s mother (and Hotaru’s mother), for a quiet life where she would be praised for good things and grounded for bad things.
Umeko glanced through the windows and a man glared back, his features still and his eyes like stone. With a snap, the curtains shut, and so did Umeko’s brief traipse down memory. She did not have a quiet life and would never be praised or grounded. As always, Umeko would be sitting on the outside with cane bruises on her spine.
By the way that he looked, Umeko doubts her father cares all that much about her bruises.
When she arrived at the bridge, Sasuke was already there. It surprised her and it didn’t. It was rather early in the morning, but she supposes a genius orphan doesn’t have much to do this early. It made Umeko scowl, anyway, because she wanted time with her moody, self-pitying thoughts.
“Good morning, Sasuke!” Umeko forced herself to look cheery as if she hadn’t rudely awoken that morning. “Did you sleep well?”
He looked irritated — maybe he wanted time with his thoughts too. “It was fine.”
His tone was dismissive, and Umeko had the thought to leave him be and sulk as she had planned. However, her grandfather’s voice haunted her, telling her to use the tools he provided.
She did not know what her grandfather meant — it was clear he wanted her to use Sasuke and Naruto, but how and to what end? The only way she could think of, was as weapons. If Umeko planned to take her grandfather’s place, then she would need loyal soldiers like his. Perhaps she should instill that same loyalty in them. The last Uchiha would be a particularly good weapon under her belt, though she couldn’t say the same for Naruto. A tool was a tool, though, whether rusty or sharpened.
“I’m glad to hear it, Sasuke.” She grinned amiably at him, easygoing and casual. If she wanted to befriend them, Umeko would have to learn the best way to get beneath their skin.
Naruto would be easy to crack, the simpleton he was. Sasuke would be the challenging one.
He looked at her now, his face smooth and unimpressed. Umeko could see it now — how Naruto could be boiled until soft like clay to be molded. Sasuke, though, had to be roasted — slowly, painfully, and with time. For now, it would be best to leave Sasuke be and watch from afar. A person’s motivation is everything, and once she learns that she’ll be able to burrow under his skin like a tick.
Umeko’s face fell easily into a smile, she worked best with a goal. Her smile didn’t falter when Naruto skipped onto the bridge, yelling noisily in the morning.
“Good morning, Naruto.” Umeko simpered, clasping her hands in front of her and making extra effort to seem friendly.
“Ehh?” Naruto exclaimed, squinting his eyes at her, both disbelieving and curious at once.
How annoying. There was no other choice except to push forward. “Did you sleep well?”
Naruto seemed bashful as he regarded Umeko, and she couldn’t help but think how easy this would be. Well, the easy part was pretending — the hard part was spending the next two hours listening to Naruto’s inane prattling with a fixed smile on her face.
Sasuke has long since lost interest in their interactions, standing several feet away from them and staring off into the distance. Umeko couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his stupid brooding — Ino fawned over his spaciness all the time. Still, she made several prayers for his intervention during the two hours of torture with Uzumaki.
“Then this frog came out of nowhere and—”
“Good, all of you are here.”
Umeko was startled from her reverie, having spaced out in the midst of Naruto’s overeager company. Kakashi crouched on top of the bridge gate, smiling as if he hadn’t singlehandedly subjected her to hell.
Naruto and Sasuke appeared just as annoyed as her. Naruto was shouting obscenities at Kakashi, and Sasuke’s cheek twitched, and his eyebrow ticked. The classic Annoyed Uchiha Combo.
“Sorry, sorry, I got lost on the path of life.” This was the man that would be teaching her for the foreseeable future — screw what her grandfather said, Umeko was doomed. There was no way to flip this situation in her favor; everyone on this team was either antisocial (Uchiha Sasuke), an idiot (Uzumaki Naruto), or both (Hatake Kakashi).
How badly would she be punished if she submitted a team transfer form? Umeko wasn’t quite sure a newly assigned genin could transfer, but it was a tempting thought nonetheless.
Thoughts of transferring and gorging on daifuku kept her thoughts semi-peaceful as Kakashi led them to one of the training grounds. His path seemed practiced and instinctual; this was most likely his preferred training ground. Umeko made note of that in case she ever needed to find him urgently — or assassinate him, the verdict is still out.
“Now that we are all here, I would like to explain the test I’ll be giving you.” Kakashi reached into his back pocket and pulled out two shiny bells. He would be giving them the bell test, just as her grandfather suspected.
“I have two bells in my hand. I will hand two of you a bell, and one person will have nothing. You will have to determine who is the one without a bell. If the person without a bell is correctly identified, they will be sent back to the Academy. If you get it wrong, the two with a bell will be sent back to the Academy.”
Umeko could feel her chest constrict and that familiar pressure building in her chest. This is not the bell test she was told about. Last night, Umeko had prowled through Kakashi’s records as a genin team leader. He failed every single team — sent them all back to the Academy. A few of them even abandoned the hope of being a shinobi altogether.
Kakashi held his chin between his thumb and forefinger, as if in thought. Umeko saw it when his eye flickered toward her, a quick assessment she had grown accustomed to since moving in with her grandfather. The pressure felt stifling and Umeko tugged on her cheongsam top, the cotton becoming all too heavy on her pounding heart.
His look was the only hint she needed to understand. Kakashi changed the bell test because he knew her grandfather would tell her. Kakashi did this specifically to sabotage her. Umeko’s hand fisted in the hem of her shirt only to stop her hands from fiddling — she needed to calm down.
Even if he did change it, that just means she’s on equal grounds with Sasuke and Naruto. She’s better than them, she has to be better than them, Umeko can’t afford failure or falling behind. Kakashi’s sabotage is child’s play — whatever grudge he has against her grandfather won’t stop her from winning this test.
Without another word, Kakashi moved to go behind them. Without instruction, Sasuke and she stared forward; Naruto had to have his head forcefully repositioned when caught attempting to peek. She heard the tinkling of bells as Kakashi moved behind Naruto, and then he passed behind her. Umeko held her hand open behind her back, palm ready to soften the sound of a falling bell. Expectedly, but disappointingly, no bell fell into her palm. Just the annoying sound of bells tinkling as he moved on Sasuke.
So, no bell for her. That meant Sasuke and Naruto had a bell. The best course of action would be to turn them on each other and capitalize on their rather loud and contentious rivalry. They will spend the entire time squabbling, which will minimize the amount of bluffing on Umeko’s end.
“Mm, as for rules,” Kakashi hummed as he took his position in front of them, rocking back on his heels as he pulled out an orange book from his pocket. Umeko scowled, very familiar with that disgraceful piece of fiction. “If you use force, you will be disqualified. If someone sees your bell, you will be disqualified. If you steal a bell, you will be disqualified. You have until lunch.”
On a training log several feet away, Kakashi placed an alarm clock. With a small wave thrown over his shoulder, the man found shade within the trees to read his stupid smut book.
Everyone is quiet after Kakashi’s departure, the three of them assessing each other. Umeko stuffs her hands into her pockets, hoping to give the illusion of having a bell. Sasuke crosses his arms, probably hiding the bell in the crook of his arm. Naruto’s arms bracket his head, leaning his unruly blonde head onto his fisted hands — his bell is either in his hidden hand or tucked into his headband. Annoyed, Umeko sighs — it’s not like it matters where their bells are. If she steals one, she’ll be disqualified and booted to the Academy.
“Be honest, you don’t have a bell do you, Sasuke?” Naruto bursts out, breaking the tense silence and turning the atmosphere into a tense racket, instead.
Sasuke tucks his hands into his pockets, scowling. “What does it matter? You will find out if I do or not eventually.”
Umeko’s hands clench angrily in her pockets — partly because Sasuke mimicked her carefully chosen nonchalant stance, but also because of his annoying strategy. The stupid Uchiha intended to wait them out, observing until he found a mistake he could seize on. It’s a smart decision, and all the more frustrating since Umeko’s strategy hinged on their bickering.
However, Naruto is an oblivious, gullible idiot. Umeko just needs to convince Naruto that Sasuke is the one without a bell to the point that he won’t trust any logical reason Sasuke might give later.
Hoping to keep her voice demure, Umeko pitches in, “It matters if you have a bell or not, at least a little…right? If you don’t have a bell and those of us with a bell choose each other, then we’ll both be sent back. One person being sent back to the Academy is a lot better than two being sent back.”
Naruto nods his head vigorously, moving forward with his hands fisted by his side. “That’s right, you selfish bastard! Just admit you don’t have a bell, so at least we can make it onto the team!”
The pressure of the test has begun to take a toll on them, even within the span of a few minutes. Naruto in particular looked fraught with tension, his hands trembling and lip quivering. Sasuke noticed it, too.
“You’re sweating a lot, Naruto.” Sasuke’s lip quirks upwards and he steps forward slightly. “Worried because you don’t have a bell?”
Naruto sputters, “Not at all! I one-hundred-percent no doubt have a bell, unlike you!”
This was a tightrope walk between the delicate balance of Naruto’s bullheadedness and Sasuke’s equal stubbornness with a dash of intellect. Umeko could double down on the accusations towards Sasuke, furthering Naruto’s suspicions of him. However, doing so would draw attention to her and make her a target for the keen eyes of Sasuke. Thank the skies Sasuke doesn’t have his sharingan yet.
The sharingan…
A thought is on the tip of her tongue, an echo of her grandfather’s voice rattling in her head about tools. But, he couldn’t possibly mean…
“What if Umeko is the one without a bell?”
At the sound of her name, Umeko startles back into the throes of the test. Sasuke glares at her suspiciously, though she is starting to suspect that he glares at everyone with suspicion.
Damn, he’s suspecting her. It’s way too early, she hasn’t done enough to convince Naruto that Sasuke is the one without a bell.
“Me?” Even to her ears, the word comes out feeble and guilty. Don’t clear your throat, don’t clear your throat, don’t clear your throat. Umeko clears her throat almost instinctively and curses herself. Such an obvious tell. “I have a bell…”
“Umeko definitely has a bell, jerk!” Naruto chimes in, and it takes everything in her to not sigh in relief. Apparently, Naruto didn’t need much convincing in the first place. “When it’s time for lunch, Umeko and I will vote you out, right?”
Naruto looks at Umeko expectantly, hoping for a verbal confirmation that would be very, very damning. She had hoped to play the middle ground until more time had passed…
“Mm, well, I don’t think you would lie to me about having a bell, Naruto.” Umeko smiles softly, chanting in her head: demure, demure, demure. “Sasuke is really smart so…I think he could lie really well. So, right now, he seems like the most likely suspect.”
Surely she averted this crisis, right? She stroked Sasuke’s ego slightly and provided a logical reason why she had been siding with Naruto this entire time. Plus, Umeko created a sense of camaraderie between Naruto and her. Perfectly executed.
“I think you could lie really well too.” Ah, damn.
When will this weasel leave her alone, and just let her win this damn test. Sasuke looks nonchalant and careless, confident, when looking at her. Almost like he knows something. In her mind, Umeko is vividly reminded of yesterday’s temper tantrum, the casualty of one rotten bench. Sasuke had seen part of it, hadn’t he?
Well, this just means she’ll have to double down.
Umeko deploys her hidden weapon — a sad pout paired with kicked puppy eyes that she learned from Ino. “I wouldn’t lie about this, Sasuke…It would be better for the village if two shinobi passed the test than one, and I just want to do what’s best for Konoha. Naruto feels the same way too, right?”
Like a switch, Naruto leans back and looks away from her. Umeko nearly scowls — she must have laid it on too thick, thick enough that even Naruto noticed. “Uh, well, actually…”
A loud, obnoxious ring stops him short. Two yards away, the alarm clock vibrates off the training log. As if the sound of the alarm summoned him, Kakashi suddenly appeared in front of them.
“So, who is the one without the bell?” Kakashi tucks a hand into his pocket and continues reading his book.
Nervously, Umeko glances at Naruto and Sasuke, trying to decide who they will choose. It doesn’t matter who they say, as long as it’s not Umeko. She’ll jump onto the first accusation to save herself.
Sasuke meets her eyes, the blackness of them piercing and calculating. Even without the blood-red sharingan Umeko read about, Uchiha’’s eyes are formidable — inescapable. She feels stuck like she’s encased in ice under his unperturbed gaze.
Sasuke replied curtly, “It’s Naruto. He appeared nervous and erratic the entire time, he’s obviously the culprit.”
Sasuke’s answer brings Umeko up short. For a second there, she was almost positive that Sasuke would say her name. Beside her, Naruto’s head is bowed and his fists are clenched at his sides.
It’s a no-brainer, really.
“I agree,” Umeko joins in, voice stronger than it was earlier. After all, soon these teammates of hers will be back at the Academy while she is still here. “Naruto is the one without a bell.”
Except, her grandfather wants her to have these teammates. He specifically chose them to be on her squad — to use them, manipulate them, hone them like weapons. How could she do that with them back at the Academy? Does her grandfather expect her to go back with them?
There has to be an answer, a reason, that everything is happening this way. An expectation she must fill.
“Naruto?” Kakashi prompts the last person on the team, the supposed monster that has been quiet the entire time. He looks downtrodden, knowing that nothing he says will change it. He’s going back to the Academy, along with Sasuke, because they were too stupid to see the truth.
“They’re right.” Hold on. “I don’t have a bell.”
That pressure is back because she understands now. Even with her grandfather’s warnings, his preaching about Kakashi’s sentimentality and insipid values. Because the test might have changed, but the trick of it never did.
“You all fail.” The sound of his book snapping shut feels akin to the bars of a cell sliding in place. Failure. There are a lot of things her grandfather will not accept, but failure is at the top of the list.
“Wait, what do you mean they fail?” Naruto bursts out, waving his hand back and forth. “They were right, I didn’t have a bell, so they should move on and I go back to the Academy. Two is better for Konoha than one, right Umeko?”
Stop looking at me.
“None of you had the bell, Naruto.” Stop looking at me. “Instead of working for the better of the team, you all chose to lie for your selfish purposes.”
“You expected us to risk our position as genin in order to work as a team, even at the expense of ourselves?”
Stoplookingatme.
“Exactly, Sasuke. Those who break the rules are scum, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.”
STOP. LOOKING. AT. ME.
That unrelenting grip is back, the grasping shadows clawing wounds across her heart until she bled rage. The crescendo of pressure that haunts her builds in the rhythm of a rabbit’s heartbeat, thrumming like a war drum. It’s the sound of her veins, her heart, pumping blood and she hears it louder and louder until all the noise is drowned out. And then she’s drowning in the silence. The silence before every thwack against her knuckles, every lash on her back. The silence where he looks, looks, looks and all Umeko can do is stifle her cries.
She can’t fail.
Failure isn’t tolerated, failure is a bitter venom that will eat her alive in that forsaken house. Success, though, is something she can grab — she can demand and harness like her grandfather does.
“Test us again!” A fire in her soul burns, a fire as hot as the one that killed Hotaru. It may not be the Will of Fire, but it’’s hers, and she’ll use it to push forward until she is in ashes. “There was — you have to test us again. If you don’t, I’ll—”
Then again, what power does she have?
Kakashi’s eyes are stone, stone like the man who cast her out of her home, stone like the man who shackles her to his legacy. “Fine, I’ll test you again. Same rules apply, and you will have ten minutes to decide.”
Ten minutes? Umeko can work with that, can work with anything if it means she can be tested again. She’ll get it this time; she knows the trick — knows the expectation. Umeko just needs to fill it, morph herself to fit the role she needs to play.
Kakashi follows the same steps as before, the bells tinkling behind them as he passes each of them. Expectedly, no bell falls into her palm. It’s the same as before, none of them have a bell.
Unless he wants her to believe that — this could be a ploy to get her off the team. He could keep Sasuke and Naruto, but send off Umeko with the biggest middle finger to her grandfather. Most shinobi would jump at the chance to pull one over on him, animosity running thick towards the unmovable political figure her grandfather has become.
Kakashi moves to the front of them again, leaning back against the training log. “Your ten minutes start now.”
Umeko feels jittery and anxious when she stares at Sasuke and Naruto’s faces, looking for any twitch of betrayal. Do they have bells, or do they not have bells? If she says she doesn’t have a bell and they do, she could be sent back to the Academy. But, if none of them have bells again, she would be falling for the same trick as last time.
Naruto tilts his head back from where he is staring at the grass, his foot toeing a pebble stuck between the leafy strands. “I have a bell.”
Umeko’s hands clench. Is he lying again, or does he really have one?
“I have a bell, too,” Sasuke mutters, his head tossed to the side away from them.
Is this…are they lying? Did they plan this from the start, with Kakashi? To lull her into a sense of security, let her think she has it all planned out, and then get her off the team. Kakashi could get rid of his granddaughter without any fuss or fanfare. No one could even call foul play, since he gave her a second chance anyway.
Umeko can’t fail again. She’ll just have to blindly trust in their words, just like one of those sentimental fools her grandfather lectures her about.
“I don’t have a bell.”
Sasuke stares at her and Umeko squirms under the attention. Then, he nods and turns towards Kakashi’s slouched figure.
“We have our answer. Umeko is the one without a bell.”
“It seems like you all passed then!” Kakashi says cheerily, and Umeko’s chest loosens slightly. She would’ve felt even better if he wasn’t so happy after psychologically torturing her for the past hour or so. “I’ll see you all tomorrow here at the same time. Don’t be late, my cute little genin!”
Kakashi leaves in a blur, and Umeko starts walking away because she has no intention of staying with her team after all of that. Naruto, seemingly, has other intentions since he sprints into her path almost immediately.
“Uh, Umeko…” Naruto scratches his cheek awkwardly, and Umeko would give anything to escape this conversation. “I’m sorry for lying at first. I wasn’t thinking about what was best for the village, I was being selfish like you said.”
What? Naruto couldn’t possibly be so naive or egotistical as to think he’s a mass manipulator who tricked her into believing in his innocence. Can’t he see she was playing him the whole time?
“Don’t worry about it, Naruto.” Umeko smiles, and it’’s painful and exhausting, “I lied, too. We all did. I guess that test brought out the worst in us. We’ll just have to do better, right?”
Naruto nods enthusiastically, grinning at her clemency. Umeko darts down the path before he can do something as awful as engaging her in conversation.
The house is quiet for hours after the bell test. Her grandfather hasn’t returned home despite the dipping sun casting an orange glow on his favorite lounging spot. It isn’t surprising nor is it alarming that he is gone this late in the day, but it is unnerving as Umeko sits on the engawa and awaits his judgment.
If he were here, he would lecture her about productivity — not a single moment spent or wasted when as youthful as her. However, Umeko can’t find it in herself to settle down and focus enough on the usual things she does to keep her occupied: studying, training, and meditating, mostly. The house had a strict ban on hobbies and anything that could be considered frivolous or trivial.
Instead, Umeko sits in the dying light of the sunset as a bag of prepped soldier rations goes cold in front of her. She thinks, once upon a time, she would have enjoyed cooking and baking. Burning bread and buying daifuku are the few good memories Umeko has made in this life before everything unfolded.
In the bubble of solitude, simultaneously fraught with a tension she can’t quite ever shake but also a rare undisturbed peace, Umeko thinks about Uchiha Sasuke. Specifically, she thinks about his eyes — the dark swirls of them that could swallow her whole if she looked too long. Still, the sharingan was reportedly much scarier and more formidable.
The Uchiha Massacre occurred during a time of uncertainty for Umeko. The year after she replaced (murdered) the real Umeko was spent living half with Mama and half with her grandfather. Continuously, her grandfather would come to their door and take her away even when Mama came up with excuse after excuse for her to stay. Even at the age of seven, Umeko knew one day he would take her and she would not return.
A day came when her grandfather stopped visiting. For a few peaceful months, Umeko spent her life burning bread and buying daifuku with Mama. Then, when Umeko began to foolishly hope, her grandfather darkened their doorstep. This time, he did not return her to her family home. A few days later, a sullen Uchiha Sasuke entered the Academy door while everyone gossiped about the death of Konoha’s legendary clan.
Umeko had never seen a sharingan, but her grandfather kept scrolls of information in his private library. One day, out of curiosity, Umeko stole one to examine the legendary eyes of a Uchiha.
Her grandfather caught her and slapped his cane into her spine. Then he gave her his entire collection of information on Uchiha and told her to study them. He never told her why and never discussed the Uchiha Massacre, but the way he prodded her with questions…she knew why he wanted her to know.
The Uchiha Clan was the enemy.
Using Uchiha Sasuke as a tool was too simplified, too naive of her to assume. Though he never told her of them, Umeko knew her grandfather’s schemes were always devious and nefarious. She could tell in the way his lip twitched downward when reports came in as if trying to suppress the slightest smile at everything going to plan.
No, his plans for Uchiha Sasuke were big, and that daunted Umeko more than anything else.
“Umeko.” His voice traveled like a cube of ice sliding down her spine, and Umeko immediately shuffled to the side so he could occupy his favorite lounging spot.
He sat down and said nothing for a long time. When his eyes flicked towards the kitchen, Umeko hurriedly retrieved his favorite sake and poured him a cup. Even as he stoically watched the sunset and sipped from his cup, he made no sound, and neither did Umeko. In this household, in this clan, everything was a weapon — even silence.
“And the bell test?” Admitting her failure…in the long run, doing so now would save her grief in the future.
“The test was different. I believe he assumed you would tell me of the original bell test and its secret meaning, so he changed it. I…failed at first,” thwack, as the curved handle of his cane crushed her knuckles into the tatami floor, “but I convinced him to give us a second chance. Hatake Kakashi passed Team 7.”
Her grandfather hummed and sipped, his cane still digging marks into the back of her hand. “And do you know what I ask of you now?”
Partially, but it was more than she did this morning.
“You…want me to unlock Uchiha Sasuke’s sharingan.” She read enough about it when she was young, pouring over scrolls half-blocked out with redacted information. The sharingan was a wily ability that could only be unlocked through complete and utter turmoil — a truly cursed gift.
Instead of replying, her grandfather sets his cup down and waits for her to continue. Umeko hesitates, knowing what is to come, but time has taught her to rip off the bandaid.
“I don’t understand the purpose of Uzumaki Naruto being on the team, Grandfather.” The cane that dug into her hand flips in her grandfather’s grip and the knobbled end crashes into her nose as he swings the cane upwards. With the force, Umeko falls backwards and the table clatters as she jostles it with her shoulder.
Her grandfather picks up his cup and drains it of the last drops.
“Uzumaki Naruto is the jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi. Since the attack twelve years ago, I have petitioned for the monster boy to be restrained and monitored to avoid another attack.” Umeko clammers back into a seiza position, ignoring the way blood drips down her nose. “Hiruzen refuses like the fool he is.”
“Then,” Umeko frets at the hem of her knee-length shorts, finger scratching at a loose thread of an embroidered plum blossom, “you intend for me to monitor him.”
“And control him.”
Controlling Naruto wouldn’t be hard, inconvenient, or annoying, but not hard. Today, while perhaps not Kakashi’s intention, gave Umeko an idea of the best methods to seize control of her team. Even still, she manipulated Naruto poorly today and he still apologized to her.
And yet…he looked so sincere.
Umeko always puts herself first, and she has long since realized that this is the only way to survive here. Maybe Hotaru would have been softer, lighter, and kinder. Instead, Umeko is bleeding cracks and jagged edges.
The feeling of soft cotton sweeping against her chin startles Umeko from her thoughts. A slightly bloodied white handkerchief is gripped in her grandfather’s good hand and he swipes it gently against her stinging skin.
“There hasn’t been a member of our clan who can use the Shizen no Ne since my father.” Her grandfather’s words turn poignant, not quite softening but holding a muted wistfulness not often heard. “My own children proved unfit for a shinobi career. Even your mother.
“Then, there was you. The answer to our dying legacy.” Her grandfather presses the handkerchief into Umeko’s hand and picks up his cane as he pulls himself to his feet. “Do not disappoint me again, Umeko.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Whether touched by cotton or rubbed in salt, it doesn’t change anything. A broken nose just fucking hurts.