“Hey, Arata,” Reiji said lightly, as though they had bumped into each other by accident and not in the middle of a forest clearing with three extra boys lingering nearby like a bad idea waiting to happen. “Finally calmed down? Came to play with me?”

  Arata’s mouth curled. “Play with you, yes. Just not the kind you’re imagining.”

  Reiji kept his gaze on the older boys rather than Arata, his expression relaxed even as his attention measured them one by one. The taller one stood slightly ahead of the others, shoulders squared, while another drifted off to the side as if trying to close the space. Not random, then. Reiji let his smile sharpen faintly. “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.” His eyes flicked back to Arata. “I always thought you were pathetic, but you’ve reached a new low today. Is this what the Uchiha preach now? Ganging up because you don’t have the guts to accept you’re trash?”

  Arata’s teeth clicked together. He didn’t answer.

  One of the older Uchiha stepped forward, boots crunching lightly over dry leaves. He was taller and broader than the others, the kind of boy who probably believed a glare alone made him intimidating. “This has nothing to do with the clan,” he said coldly. “You’ve been humiliating my little cousin day after day. You don’t even try to hide it.” His eyes narrowed. “Today you learn a lesson. Maybe you’ll think twice before crossing him again.”

  Reiji shrugged, shifting his weight slightly as he felt the uneven forest floor beneath his sandals—roots pushing through the dirt, leaves sliding underfoot. “Call it whatever helps you sleep,” he said. “It’s still cowards propping up someone who can’t take a loss.”

  They stopped talking.

  They began to circle.

  The forest clearing tightened around them as the boys spread out, boots crunching lightly over leaves and roots. Reiji shifted backward step by step until rough bark pressed against his spine. The tree behind him was thick and old, its trunk wide enough that three boys could not easily surround it without exposing themselves. He registered it instantly—one solid anchor at his back, the others forced to approach from the front.

  Arata stood directly ahead, breathing through his nose, anger bright in his eyes. The three older boys spread to the sides like hunting dogs trying to cut off an escape route.

  Reiji smiled at him.

  “Come at me, weakling.”

  They rushed him all at once.

  Reiji moved the instant their weight shifted forward. His palms slapped against the trunk behind him, chakra surging into his hands and feet as easily as breathing. The bark caught him like glue. For half a heartbeat he clung there, body compressed like a coiled spring.

  Then he released.

  His legs snapped forward as he pushed off the tree, both heels driving straight into Arata’s face.

  The impact landed with a dull crack of bone and air. Arata’s head snapped backward and his body lifted off the ground entirely, thrown several meters back through the leaves before he collapsed onto the forest floor in a stunned sprawl.

  Reiji didn’t watch him fall.

  His hands were already gripping the trunk again as momentum carried his body sideways. Chakra anchored him as he swung around the tree in a tight arc, feet skimming the ground. One of the older boys lunged toward where Reiji’s head had been a moment earlier, his fist cutting through empty air.

  Reiji cleared the strike by inches.

  Still mid-swing, he tucked his knees briefly toward his chest, then extended both legs forward. His heels slammed directly into the stomach of the attacker approaching from the right.

  The boy folded instantly. Air burst from his lungs in a broken wheeze as his body doubled over and staggered backward.

  Reiji released the trunk and dropped lightly onto the forest floor, knees bending to absorb the landing. Leaves crunched under his sandals as he straightened.

  Two opponents still stood.

  The third was on the ground clutching his stomach.

  Their earlier confidence had cracked. Reiji could see it in the hesitation of their steps.

  “What?” Reiji spat, the grin gone now, replaced by something colder. “Come on. You absolute losers.”

  They charged again.

  For a moment the fight became clean and simple—two against one.

  One boy swung wide toward Reiji’s head. Reiji lifted his forearm and redirected the blow past him, the impact sending a brief numb shock through his arm. The second attacker drove a kick toward Reiji’s ribs. Reiji lifted his knee to intercept, absorbing the strike through his shin before stepping sideways to slip out of their combined reach.

  Their movements were sloppy. Angry.

  Reiji watched their shoulders, their hips, the direction of their weight.

  ‘No coordination,’ he noted calmly.

  One lunged again.

  Reiji ducked beneath the swing and seized the attacker’s ankle as it passed him. A sharp twist of his hips pulled the leg sideways.

  The boy lost balance and slammed flat onto his back.

  Reiji turned immediately to finish him—

  —and Arata crashed into him from the side.

  The impact drove Reiji half a step sideways. Arata’s shoulder slammed into his ribs with desperate force, his earlier humiliation burning through every movement.

  Reiji planted his feet instantly. Chakra flooded into his soles, gripping the ground like roots sinking into soil.

  They bounced off him.

  Arata staggered back.

  Then a fist came for Reiji’s face.

  Reiji twisted his head just in time, the punch grazing his cheek instead of breaking his nose. As the attacker’s arm passed him, Reiji lunged forward and sank his teeth into the boy’s forearm.

  Hard.

  Blood flooded his mouth instantly, hot and metallic. The boy screamed.

  Everything froze for half a second.

  Even Arata stared.

  Reiji released the bite and kicked Arata in the chest, shoving him back across the leaves. The bitten boy stumbled away clutching his arm, eyes wide with horrified disbelief as blood ran down his sleeve.

  Reiji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  His teeth were red now.

  He smiled.

  “What?” he asked pleasantly. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

  He scanned them quickly.

  One groaning on the ground. One scrambling to his feet. One staring at his bleeding arm. Arata rigid between rage and something dangerously close to fear.

  “Are you crazy…?” Arata whispered.

  Reiji tilted his head slightly.

  “You’re the crazy one. I’m the only normal one here.” His voice cooled. “What did you think would happen? That numbers would suddenly make you strong?”

  He stepped forward.

  “One weakling or four weaklings. Same result.”

  Another boy charged again, furious.

  Reiji spat blood straight into his face.

  The boy recoiled instinctively, eyes wide in disgust.

  That hesitation was enough.

  Reiji jumped forward and drove a flying kick into the side of his head. The impact snapped the boy sideways and dropped him immediately.

  The forest fell quiet except for ragged breathing.

  “Like I said,” he muttered. “We’re shinobi. Why are you getting scared over a little blood?”

  Reiji glanced at the remaining boys with something like disappointment.

  ‘No tactics. No feints. No coordination,’ he thought.

  ‘If they had any sense they’d have tried to force distance… or gone for weapons immediately.’

  He could have escaped earlier. The trees above offered perfect cover. A single leap and he could have vanished into the canopy.

  But he hadn’t wanted to.

  He wanted them to understand something.

  Numbers meant nothing.

  Movement flickered at the edge of his vision, Reiji moved—

  Steel flashed.

  Pain tore across his shoulder.

  He landed a step away, breath steady.

  A thin slash had opened in his kimono. Blood seeped slowly through the black cloth.

  “Who said I was afraid of blood?”

  Reiji raised his head.

  Arata held a kunai.

  His hand trembled.

  His eyes did not.

  The Sharingan burned red.

  A single tomoe rotated slowly in the crimson iris.

  Reiji felt something shift inside his chest—not fear, but something warmer, sharper.

  Excitement.

  ‘So that’s it.’

  He grinned slowly.

  “Now we’re talking.”

  He lifted his hand and curled his fingers in a come-here gesture.

  Arata inhaled sharply.

  The kunai aligned with Reiji’s chest.

  Not a warning.

  A killing line.

  Arata lunged—

  —and a blur of red and brown slammed into him from behind.

  He crashed face-first into the dirt.

  Nawaki twisted Arata’s arm behind his back, forcing the kunai hand upward. Kushina dropped onto Arata’s legs with surprising strength, pinning him down.

  “Let go of me!” Arata snarled, twisting against the grip that pinned his arm behind his back. “

  I had him!”

  “You want to murder him?!” Kushina shot back, her voice sharp with disbelief as she struggled to keep Arata’s legs trapped beneath her weight. Her hands tightened reflexively as he jerked again. “What is wrong with you?!”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  That word—murder—cut through the clearing like cold water.

  Arata froze.

  For a moment the tension drained from his body as if someone had pulled the strength out of him. His expression twisted, horror replacing the anger that had been driving him only seconds earlier. Slowly, hesitantly, as though his fingers no longer trusted themselves, he opened his hand. The kunai slipped from his grip and dropped into the dirt with a dull, final sound.

  Nawaki exhaled in relief and loosened his hold, though he stayed close enough to grab Arata again if he tried something stupid. Kushina followed a second later, pushing herself upright but keeping a wary eye on him, as if she still expected him to lunge for the weapon again.

  Reiji hadn’t moved the entire time.

  He simply watched the scene unfold, standing a few steps away with his weight balanced lightly over his feet, as if someone had interrupted a match he had already decided the outcome of. The wind stirred faintly through the trees overhead, rustling the leaves and carrying the smell of damp earth through the clearing.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked flatly.

  Kushina’s gaze flicked away for a second, irritation crossing her face at being forced to explain herself. “We saw Arata talking to those guys earlier,” she said. “We heard what they were planning, so we followed.” Her eyes dropped briefly to the kunai lying in the dirt, her mouth tightening in visible disgust. “We didn’t want to interfere… but when he pulled that out—”

  Nawaki nodded once, jaw set. “Fights between classmates are one thing,” he said, his voice quieter now but edged with anger. He looked down at Arata where the boy sat on the ground. “This is different. Why did you do it?”

  Arata dragged an arm across his eyes, covering them as if the forest suddenly felt too bright. When he spoke, his voice cracked slightly.

  “I… I just wanted him to regret his words for once.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Nawaki looked past him toward the older Uchiha boys who were slowly pulling themselves together, then back at Arata. His voice hardened.

  “I’m not saying anything about what I saw today,” he said carefully, each word measured. “But if you ever do this again, I will tell. Understand?”

  Arata gave a small nod without lifting his arm from his face.

  The upperclassmen wasted no time. They hauled the unconscious boy upright between them and began retreating quickly through the trees. Arata followed after a moment, throwing one last look back toward Reiji before disappearing into the forest with the others.

  Reiji only smiled back.

  The moment they vanished between the trees, the tension drained out of his shoulders. He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  Then he looked up—and found Kushina standing directly in front of him.

  She had moved closer without him noticing. Her red hair filled half his vision.

  Her eyes dropped immediately to his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” she demanded, her tone sharp with urgency. “You need to treat that immediately.”

  Reiji glanced down at the cut.

  The fabric of his kimono had been sliced open just enough for dark blood to seep through the cloth. The sting had dulled slightly now, settling into a steady, burning ache along his shoulder.

  His mind began turning quickly.

  'If I go home like this, Father will ask questions.'

  'If I go to the hospital, they’ll notify him.'

  'And if he finds out I failed to “get along” like he told me…'

  Reiji suppressed a quiet sigh.

  “…Do you know someone who can heal me,” he asked carefully, “without asking questions?”

  Kushina and Nawaki exchanged a quick glance. It was the sort of silent conversation that lasted only a second but contained far more discussion than words ever could. Nawaki’s expression shifted almost immediately into the look of someone who had just been handed responsibility he absolutely did not want.

  Kushina, on the other hand, nodded eagerly.

  Nawaki resisted for exactly one second.

  Then he sighed.

  “My mother can heal you,” he said reluctantly.

  Reiji’s first instinct was to refuse.

  Then an idea formed—quick and precise.

  'Perfect, actually.'

  They walked back toward the village as though nothing particularly serious had happened. The illusion was helped greatly by Reiji’s black kimono, which swallowed most of the blood into its folds and shadows. From a distance he looked merely rumpled, like someone who had taken a fall and decided it wasn’t worth mentioning.

  A few shinobi passed them along the path leading toward Konoha. Some glanced briefly at the tear in Reiji’s sleeve or the dried stain along the fabric, their eyes lingering for a moment before moving on. None of them stopped. In a village full of shinobi, people developed a very reliable instinct for minding their own business.

  The silence between the three of them stretched longer than it should have.

  It felt tight, uncomfortable, like a bandage pulled too hard.

  Reiji cleared his throat.

  “So… your mother’s a healer?” he asked, trying to sound casually curious rather than desperate to break the silence.

  Nawaki blinked once before nodding. “Yeah. She works at the hospital.” He scratched the back of his head. “Today’s her day off though, so she should be home.” After a brief pause he added, “With my father.”

  Reiji considered that quietly as they walked.

  Visiting a Senju house uninvited felt like the sort of decision that could become very inconvenient very quickly.

  “…Is this really okay?” he asked. “Me showing up like this.”

  Nawaki stopped so suddenly that Reiji nearly walked straight into his back.

  “Of course it’s not—why would you think it’s— ow!”

  Kushina’s foot connected cleanly with Nawaki’s chin.

  The kick was fast and practiced.

  Nawaki staggered backward, clutching his jaw while his eyes watered in protest. Kushina, meanwhile, looked completely unbothered, as if she had simply adjusted her footing on the path.

  He recovered quickly, pride arriving faster than common sense.

  “I mean—” he said loudly, straightening his back as if the kick had improved his posture, “of course it’s okay. A Senju always helps someone from Konoha!”

  Reiji’s gaze drifted toward Kushina.

  She had already started walking again, her face turned slightly away. The tips of her ears were faintly pink. When she noticed him watching, she didn’t explain anything. She simply continued forward with determined stubbornness, as if the moment had never happened.

  Reiji didn’t fully understand why she insisted on helping him—especially after their past interactions—but his father’s voice echoed quietly in his thoughts.

  'Be closer to your classmates.'

  'Make yourself useful.'

  'Make yourself connected.'

  And if those classmates happened to include the heir of the Senju clan and the red-haired girl his father had specifically told him to befriend…

  Then ruining it with a poorly chosen remark would be extremely stupid.

  So he did something unusual.

  He kept his mouth shut.

  They climbed the cliff where the Hokage faces were carved into the mountain, the massive stone figures watching over the village below like silent guardians. Up close the scale was unsettling. The legends carved into the rock—Hashirama’s calm expression, Tobirama’s stern gaze—felt almost unreal compared to the very ordinary boy walking beside him who had just been kicked in the chin.

  Reiji caught himself staring.

  Nawaki noticed immediately and shot him a curious look.

  Reiji shook his head.

  Nothing.

  He reminded himself of the rule he had decided on earlier: say nothing that might irritate this simpleton.

  Beyond the monument the path narrowed into forest again. There was no proper road here—no signs, no gates, nothing to suggest that anyone lived nearby. Just tall trees, thick roots pushing through the soil, and the faint rustle of leaves shifting in the breeze. And yet Nawaki and Kushina walked with the casual certainty of people who knew exactly where they were going.

  They stopped in front of a perfectly ordinary tree.

  Reiji stopped as well, mostly because there was very little else to do when the people leading you suddenly decided that a tree was the most important destination in the world.

  Kushina turned to face him.

  She didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “Give me your hand.”

  Reiji frowned. “Why?”

  “Don’t ask,” she snapped, her voice carrying a strange mixture of impatience and embarrassment. “Just—give it.”

  Reiji hesitated for a moment, long enough to make it clear that he was not the kind of person who held hands without at least questioning it.

  Then he lifted his arm.

  Their fingers touched.

  The world shifted.

  Not dramatically—there was no flash of light, no obvious distortion like the crude illusions taught in the Academy. Instead the change felt subtle and precise, like a lock clicking open after the correct key had finally been inserted.

  The forest blurred at the edges.

  The air itself seemed to rearrange.

  And then the trees that had surrounded them simply… weren’t there anymore.

  Reiji blinked.

  A wide clearing stretched out before them, quiet and sunlit as though it had been patiently waiting to be discovered. Grass moved gently in the wind, and the scent of clean earth replaced the dense forest smell that had filled the air moments before.

  In the center of the clearing stood a large traditional house.

  It was built from dark polished wood, its wide roof curving elegantly over deep verandas. The structure looked peaceful—almost too peaceful—like something preserved outside the passage of time.

  For the first time since the fight, Reiji forgot to hide his reaction.

  “…So that’s how it is,” he murmured.

  Kushina released his hand instantly, turning away as if the entire thing had nothing to do with her.

  Nawaki, meanwhile, looked immensely pleased with himself.

  “Welcome,” he announced proudly, spreading his arms toward the house. “Senju residence.”

  Reiji didn’t answer right away. He remained standing near the gate, studying the place carefully.

  Nawaki chuckled under his breath. “I always like that face,” he said. “People’s reactions when they see it for the first time are always hilarious.”

  Reiji glanced sideways at him.

  “Is this a genjutsu?”

  “Tch. Not quite.” Nawaki tilted his head smugly. “But you’re close.”

  “Fūinjutsu then,” Reiji said.

  Nawaki blinked. “Huh. How do you know?”

  Reiji shrugged lightly. “I guessed.”

  “You’re boring,” Nawaki muttered, rolling his eyes as he started up the path toward the house.

  Reiji followed.

  As they approached, the details became clearer. At first glance the house looked traditional, almost simple—but the closer he looked, the more irregularities he noticed.

  Small seals were carved subtly into the wooden beams where a normal house would have smooth surfaces. Paper charms had been tucked carefully beneath the eaves. Even the air carried a faint pressure, something not quite chakra but close enough that his instincts recognized it.

  Nawaki slid the door open without hesitation and called inside with impressive volume.

  “Mom! Dad! We’re home!”

  Reiji flinched slightly at the noise.

  Footsteps answered almost immediately from within.

  A woman appeared in the hallway a moment later, moving with quick, practiced steps. She looked middle-aged, her black hair pinned back neatly, her violet eyes warm when she smiled.

  “Well,” she said gently as she stepped forward, “it was about time you two came back. Your father and I were starting to worry.”

  Before Nawaki could react, she pulled both him and Kushina into a quick embrace.

  Nawaki stiffened immediately, his face contorting with visible suffering.

  “Mo—Mom,” he protested, voice strained, “not now. We have someone with us.”

  She released them and finally looked up.

  Her gaze landed on Reiji.

  He stood just inside the entrance, shoulders straight, posture carefully neutral.

  “H-hello,” he said.

  It came out more awkwardly than he intended.

  She didn’t respond.

  Her attention had already shifted.

  Her eyes dropped immediately to his shoulder.

  To the dark stain on the fabric.

  To the way the cloth clung where the blood had dried.

  The warmth in her expression vanished.

  Her eyes narrowed sharply.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  This time it was not a polite question.

  ---

  Reiji watched the green glow spread across his skin in quiet disbelief as the wound on his shoulder vanished. He had seen healing jutsu before—slow hands, careful chakra control, the uncomfortable pull of torn flesh knitting itself back together—but this was different. Faster. Cleaner. The chakra flowed through the cut like calm water over stone, erasing the injury with almost casual efficiency.

  “It should be fine now,” the woman said.

  She was crouched beside him, her hand still faintly glowing as the last traces of chakra faded. Her tone was relaxed, almost cheerful, as if sealing a deep cut was no more troublesome than tying a bandage.

  Reiji’s gaze lingered briefly on her eyes—amethyst, steady, sharp in a way that reminded him unpleasantly of someone used to seeing through excuses. He looked away too quickly and muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

  He wasn’t entirely sure when he had sat down. One moment they had entered the house, Kushina disappearing down a hallway with hurried steps, and the next this woman had appeared in front of him as if she had been waiting for the scent of blood to reach her.

  She had guided him to the couch without hesitation, pushed his sleeve up, and begun working.

  Her movements had been practiced, efficient.

  Her scent carried faint traces of antiseptic and something softer beneath it—flowers, maybe.

  “Now,” she said, still crouched beside him, her voice gentle but firm, “what happened? Tell me.”

  “It was nothing,” Reiji said quickly. “I was training with kunai and… I messed up.”

  A small crease formed between her brows.

  Two fingers reached forward and pinched his cheek.

  “Ow—what was that for?”

  “For lying to me,” she replied calmly.

  The smile on her face never disappeared, but the certainty in her tone left no room for argument.

  “Do you think I can’t tell the difference between a wound from a thrown weapon and one from a slash?”

  Reiji turned his head slowly and glared at Nawaki.

  Nawaki lifted both hands in surrender.

  “Give it up,” he said. “My mom works at the hospital. She’ll know.”

  “She always knows,” he added, as though that explained everything.

  Reiji let out a small, annoyed breath before giving up the lie.

  “It was a dispute,” he said. “With some classmates.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Where are they now?”

  Reiji lifted his chin.

  “Gone.”

  He leaned back slightly against the couch, sounding almost satisfied.

  “I beat them. So they ran.”

  She sighed quietly through her nose.

  “Boys…”

  Then her expression sharpened again.

  “And why do you have a kunai wound if this was ‘just’ a dispute between classmates?”

  “I beat them alone,” Reiji replied matter-of-factly. “So one of them got angry.”

  He shrugged.

  “Couldn’t handle it.”

  He watched her closely, waiting for something—approval, perhaps, or surprise.

  She gave him neither.

  Instead she turned toward Nawaki.

  “Who was it?” she asked. “That kind of behavior among Academy children is dangerous. I should speak with the teacher.”

  “No—don’t worry, Mother,” Nawaki said quickly. “I already handled it. He regrets it. It won’t happen again, I guarantee it.”

  “No,” she said.

  The single word carried far more weight than his entire explanation.

  “Tell me.”

  Nawaki’s jaw tightened.

  “I promised,” he said. “I can’t.”

  Her eyes flicked toward Reiji.

  He shook his head once.

  For a moment the warmth in the room cooled slightly.

  “Honestly…” she murmured quietly, more to herself than to them. “What is happening to children these days? Trying to kill each other before they even graduate…”

  Her gaze hardened.

  “What are we—Kirigakure?”

  Reiji flinched before he could stop himself.

  “Tsukiko,” a calm voice said from the doorway.

  Reiji looked up.

  A blond man stood at the entrance to the room, wearing a simple but well-kept kimono. His posture was straight but relaxed, his short beard neatly trimmed, his brown eyes calm and observant.

  “Don’t say that in front of them,” he said gently. “You’ll scare them.”

  “But Kiyoshi,” Tsukiko replied sharply, turning toward him, “someone tried to stab him. Another child.”

  “That’s serious.”

  “I know,” Kiyoshi said.

  His tone remained steady, controlled.

  He looked briefly toward Nawaki and smiled slightly.

  “But have some faith in your son. He said nothing will happen now.”

  He tilted his head toward Nawaki.

  “Right, son?”

  Nawaki brightened instantly, relief flooding his expression.

  “Yes.”

  Kiyoshi spread his hands lightly.

  “See?”

  “Nothing to worry about.”

  Tsukiko rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t think I’m forgetting about this,” she said. “Not knowing who did it—especially if they’re in the same class as Nawaki.”

  She folded her arms.

  “What would you do if they tried that on him?”

  Nawaki waved dismissively.

  “Ah, you don’t have to worry. He just hates Reiji. He doesn’t have anything against me.”

  Tsukiko stared at him.

  Unimpressed.

  Then she turned back to Reiji.

  “Is that true?”

  Reiji shrugged.

  “More or less.”

  She sighed and shook her head.

  “I’ll still look into it,” she said. “You may not be my child, but knowing something like this happened…”

  Her hand rested lightly on his head.

  “…I can’t do nothing.”

  Then, softer,

  “Were you scared?”

  Heat crept up Reiji’s neck.

  “Of course not,” he said too quickly.

  “He didn’t scare me.”

  Tsukiko’s smile returned, small and knowing.

  “Oh? Really?”

  “Yeah,” Reiji said, puffing his chest slightly. “He’s nothing.”

  “You should see his face now.”

  Kiyoshi clapped his hands once, the sound crisp and decisive.

  “Enough,” he said. “That’s settled.”

  His tone shifted smoothly.

  “It’ll be time to eat soon.”

  He looked toward Reiji.

  “Would you like to stay with us?”

  “I can send a message to your parents if you want.”

  The image came to Reiji immediately.

  His father sitting at home.

  Two plates set out.

  Waiting.

  His stomach tightened.

  “No,” he said quickly.

  He steadied his voice.

  “Thank you for the offer, but I should go.”

  He stood and bowed slightly.

  “Thank you for healing me… Miss Senju.”

  Tsukiko made a soft, amused sound and ruffled his hair.

  “Tsukiko,” she corrected gently.

  “And my husband is Kiyoshi.”

  Kiyoshi lifted a hand in greeting.

  “It is always my pleasure to welcome Kushina—and Nawaki’s friends—here.”

  Nawaki opened his mouth to say something.

  Reiji caught his eye immediately and sent him a warning look.

  Nawaki closed his mouth.

  Reiji turned toward the door—

  —and Kushina appeared beside them, stepping out from the hallway.

  She slowed as she approached, her expression uncertain.

  “Grandmother wants to meet you,” she said quietly.