To say Yui was thrilled at Aoi's adoption was a huge understatement.
The sandy-haired woman could barely contain herself when Tsubo had dropped by her sister's house after work to deliver the news, a bashful Aoi in tow. Yui had thrown herself on the redhead, squealing and fawning over her new niece in delight.
Tsubo had to physically extract her sister from Aoi.
With all the fuss Yui made, it seemed rather pointless that she had her little sister swore on their parents' graves that she wouldn't breathe a word about the adoption to anyone outside the immediate family which wasn't much to begin with.
Then again, it wasn't like they were going about hiding it either, and it wouldn't take a genius to put two and two together. There were the neighbours living on the same street as they, and quite a few had seen Aoi with her today. It wouldn't be long until people started lining up (in an exaggerated but likely scenario) to pester her and her husband about their daughter.
"Let them draw their own conclusions," a defiant Manabu had crowed. "If they're that bothered, they'll come poking their noses in without your invitation."
It was only inevitable.
…
The temperatures were mild for the end of October. The doors were thrown open to fill the room with cool air and natural light. There were tea, biscuits and sweets to celebrate the occasion, and Yui had taken out her best tableware.
The sisters and Aoi were not alone in the house.
The brothers were separated by a one-year age gap and very close. Thirteen years old and the eldest, Tetsuo had inherited his mother's sandy-brown hair. Meanwhile, Hideo's was midnight blue and he towered over his brother by several inches.
They shared many similarities. Both had Yui's proud nose and sharp chin. Both had the same gangly build and skin tanned from frequent missions and arduous training.
Both had the same grey eyes from their late father that were regarding the tiny figure beside their aunt, wearing a look big-hearted Shinbei had never donned in his lifetime.
Aoi kept her eyes firmly fixed on her clasped hands resting on her lap, if only to stop herself fidgeting under her cousins' piercing stares as their mothers chatted away, oblivious to the unpleasant atmosphere.
She fisted the light green fabric of her clothes, pleased that she need not wear her father's baggy clothes. Though as the minutes dragged on, the komon – one of the few that belonged to her mother and retailored to fit her size – failed in easing her nerves.
She wanted to leave badly but couldn't.
The lively lilt in her mother's voice seemed to have a strong effect on her.
Yui broke off from the conversation at some point, noticing the plate of daifuku in front of Aoi was untouched.
"What's wrong, Aoi-chan? You're not eating. Aren't red bean fillings your favourite?" She briefly shot a look of accusation at her sister, who simply shrugged. "This cannot do. We're family now! You don't have to be shy. Eat, eat!"
Abrupt movements caught the room's attention. Tetsuo and Hideo were on their feet.
"You two going somewhere?" asked Tsubo, as they approached the fusuma behind her and Aoi.
"Training," came the short reply from Tetsuo.
"Training?" The tenor of Yui's voice shifted noticeably. "But you two came back not long ago from doing just that!"
"There's a big escort mission in two days, kaa-san," Hideo inexorably reminded, stepping aside to allow his brother through first. "We can't afford to slack off. The clan is relying on us."
Yui paused in rising halfway from the cushion, caramel eyes reflecting an inner battle. The look went out like a candle as a soft sigh left her lungs. "Be back for dinner, okay?"
There were grunts of acquiescence and the fusuma snapped shut behind the brothers.
Yui plopped down on the cushion, shoulders sagging. She sought something to hold in her hands and hastily grabbed her teacup. "I'm sorry about that. They're not always like this." She uttered the last bit almost to herself.
Tsubo gave her a comforting smile. "You can't always expect the kids to stay the same growing up."
"I know, aneue… I know." Yui's gaze flickered to Aoi, and she mumbled a little petulantly, "Sometimes I wish I have girls."
"Funny. You never were docile."
"Hey!"
Tsubo chuckled good-naturedly at her pouting sister. Her flippant remark worked as Yui's easy-going demeanour slipped back into place and the room resumed a comfortable temperature.
"Tired, Aoi?" asked Tsubo, placing a hand on the crown of red. "Would you like to go home now?" She tenderly caressed the side of her head, feeling Aoi leaning into her touch and moving her head slowly in a nod.
Looking down, Tsubo saw the whites of the little knuckles. She berated herself for not noticing earlier. The sudden departure of her newly acquainted cousins seemed to have rattled more than a few nerves.
…
It was dark outside when they were seen off at her aunt's front door. Aoi carried a box of her daifuku in her arms, as her mother needed both hands.
"Do come back for a visit soon," implored Yui.
"It's not like we can escape each other here," said Tsubo, one hand resting casually on Aoi's shoulder, the other holding a lantern.
"But you're always busy with work," Yui pointed out, grumpily.
"There's not much I can do about that." When her sister continued to sulk, Tsubo resignedly added, "I won't make promises, but I'll try."
Yui didn't like it. Still, it was better than nothing. "And take Aoi-chan with you."
Tsubo's laugh was a little strained. "Of course."
Turning around, she sent an encouraging smile at Yui and started down the road until her sister became a lonely silhouette lingering at the doorway.
The sun had disappeared behind the mountains. The twilight sky was illuminated by a few stubborn rays of light, throwing a blanket of striking pink-blue across the endless canvas.
"Your father will be home soon. What shall we have for dinner tonight?"
Silence met her musings.
Tsubo bit the inside of her mouth. She hadn't expected her nephews to react coldly to Aoi's adoption.
At the same time, part of her wasn't surprised.
She'd watched them grow up a very proud bunch, training vigorously so that one day they could be like their shinobi parents they idolised. She remembered the rowdy, ludic boys who often paid their aunt and uncle random visits. Manabu used to jokingly ask if they were monkeys wearing human skins for their penchant for mischiefs.
That all changed five years ago.
Shinbei was a well-respected man, almost everyone in the clan had attended his funeral after he'd lost a long battle with typhoid fever. A week later, Yui had accepted a job offer to work at the winery down the road from her house.
It was around that time that Tetsuo and Hideo were regularly away from the valley for missions.
Tsubo remembered the boys at Shinbei's funeral well. They had silently stood side by side, not offering a consoling word to their grieving mother, as the wooden coffin disappeared beneath mounds and mounds of earth.
Were they watching something else of theirs being buried along with their father?
Tsubo squeezed the little hand in her grasp, sending silent comforts even as the weight in her heart grew, praying her nephews would gradually warm up to their cousin with time.
"Stay close to me, alright?"
Aoi had no qualms in obliging. She eagerly grabbed the proffered hand and pressed herself against Tsubo.
The pleasant sound of her mother's laugh met her ears. "Not like that, silly. You'll trip both of us."
Blushing deeply, Aoi backed away two hesitant steps, still clinging to her mother's hand.
"That's good enough. Are you ready?"
No.
Aoi nodded anyways.
She dreaded the trek across the paddy fields to Genta's house. Why couldn't the doctor live closer? Preferably next door.
She forced her feet to move one after the other, trailing behind but close enough she could breathe in her mother's mellow scent. This was her second outing in broad daylight. The first had her bolting back to the house and they had not taken more than five steps from the front door.
"You'll get used to it," Tsubo tried to assure her in a low voice, as several pairs of eyes swivelled to them – specifically down at a sceptical redhead. "And keep an eye on the ground lest you want to trip."
Aoi looked down just in time to skip over a rock embedded in the dirt. Glancing over her shoulder, she realised it was the exact same spot where she'd planted her face on the ground yesterday. Heat rose to her cheeks at the vivid memory, and she paid extra attention to anything on the ground, be that rock, stick or leaf.
They hadn't been walking for long before the calm air around them strengthened into a gentle breeze, throwing her red tresses in disarray.
They had emerged into open land. The paddy fields echoed with the crisp rustlings of rice stalks bending in the breeze and idle chatters of farmers moving about in the golden carpet.
Aoi longed to look around thoroughly as they ascended a well-trodden path up a hillslope, not hide behind her locks.
Her mother would greet the other pedestrians, answering their curiosities with calm and amiable words, their voices mixing in the whispers of rice harvests. Aoi ignored them, resolutely looking the other way as they drilled holes into her freckled face. There was no animosity in their gazes, but she couldn't help finding their weird fixation unsettling.
They were stopped several times on the way to Genta's house, each time someone came up to her mother, it looked less likely that they'd arrive at their destination.
At long last, her mother tugged at her hand and said, "We're almost there, Aoi. Look."
A wave of relief washed over the girl at the sight of the small house perched on top of a hill.
The doctor was lounging on his porch, a fine column of smoke rising from the pipe in his mouth. "You're finally here," he greeted them with a rasp, as they approached. "What took you so long?"
Tsubo arched a brow. "Stopped by the store to pick up the herbs you want."
Genta grunted something incoherent as he stood up from his perch and extinguished his pipe. He waved an invitation for Tsubo and Aoi to enter his home.
"Put them by the hearth," he instructed. "We're going to need most of them today, so you can start unpacking them. The list is on the table. And you –" A kettle was pushed into Aoi's arms "—fill that up with water from the barrel out back."
Without bothering for a response, he lumbered towards a cabinet, leaving the redhead at a loss.
Aoi had done this several times at home, she felt confident enough. Still, she looked to her mother for direction. At the encouraging nod, she started towards the direction the old man had pointed out.
A hotchpotch of Genta's possessions was crammed into the house, and Aoi had to tiptoe around stacks of medical journals and earthen pots as tall as her on her way to the back door. The only object that didn't look as if a strong gust of wind had ripped through the house was the bookshelf packed to the brim with patients' records.
A fire was smouldering in the hearth upon Aoi's return. Saucers containing an assortment of herbs and a brass scale, which Genta was using to measure a clump of roots, laid around the fire. Her mother had donned a long apron and was using a stone pestle to grind a thick concoction of sickly yellow that caused Aoi's stomach to make a familiar churn.
"The kettle, girl."
Aoi tore her eyes from the grisly image and handed the kettle over to Genta who hooked it up over the fire. She stood there, wondering if there were more demands but he simply waved her off.
She wandered over to the porch and perched on the edge. Her mother dropped by minutes later, carrying a cup of freshly brewed chrysanthemum tea for her. It was sweetened with honey, and Aoi savoured the subtle flavour as she surveyed the picturesque scenery.
It was premature to judge as she had yet seen her new home in its entirety, but Genta's house was admittedly the best despite the chaos inside, if not for the view. His porch offered a sweeping panorama of the paddy fields, the bamboo forest shielding her house from view, and the distant mountains beyond the valley.
Farmers lurked between the rice stalks below. Someone was singing. "Harvest folksong," her mother had told her yesterday. The pentatonic melody and the crooning man's voice floating to the porch – the honeyed tea and the gentle breeze caressing her skin – seemed to ease her mind.
"How is the girl settling in?" Genta suddenly asked. He was crouching in front his medicine cabinetry and didn't look up.
"Good," Tsubo responded, skirting the issue around her nephews, as she poured a measured amount of powdered medicine into an envelope. "Though Aoi refuses to sleep on her own, and we spent days clearing and dusting the spare room for her. Was it a mistake to let her sleep with my husband and me?"
"Give her time. She'll be wanting her own space."
Tsubo bit back a sigh.
Time.
It seemed like the sole solution to many of their problems.
As they prepared to set off, the old man surprised them by presenting a straw hat to Aoi.
"You won't need it as often now," Genta said. "But with winter approaching, I'm not going to waste precious ingredients on something that can be easily prevented."
The sky had been clear yesterday; near the end of their rounds, the redhead had complained of stinging and showed a sunburnt face to an alarmed Tsubo. The sun remained strong in the valley even in late October, sensitive skin like Aoi's were still susceptible to prolonged exposure.
Aoi adjusted the hat a little. It fitted her perfectly.
Tsubo stooped down to knot the straps under her chin. "I was going to craft one for her soon because my husband's and mine are too big." She straightened and bowed to Genta. "Thank you, sensei. Say thank you, Aoi."
The girl peered at him beneath the hat's brim. "Thank you."
"Small favours," Genta shrugged nonchalantly. Being a doctor had their benefits. People were willing to help.
…
Their first stop was a couple who worked in the paddy fields. A distraction and an unsteady grip on a sickle ended in a mishap.
Genta had permitted Aoi to observe quietly or wait at the porch while he and Tsubo tended to their patient. The girl sat beside an anxious husband, watching intently as the bindings around the patient's left foot unravelled under her mother's careful hands.
The dressings fell in a heap on the floor.
A glimpse of the wound and Aoi suddenly felt hot.
Tsubo watched her daughter make a beeline to the porch with a trace of concern. She turned back to the patient. "I'm sorry about that. My daughter didn't mean to be rude."
"It's alright," the woman let out a laboured chuckle as Genta examined her wound, wincing when his prodding finger touched a particularly tender area. "My husband wasn't better. He actually fainted at the blood yesterday."
"F-Fumi!"
Aoi sat by herself on the porch, inhaling deep and calming breaths, soaking in the autumn breeze as it cooled her flushed body. Before long, her nausea had subsided.
A shaky sigh escaped her, which turned into a stifled yelp when water and a plate of brownish-orange dried fruits were set on the ground beside her.
The dark man cast her an apologetic smile. "Aoi-chan… right? Help yourself to the apricots. They're good for you."
Aoi's gaze flickered from the farmer to the plate uncertainly. She glanced at her mother and Genta. There were two plates filled with the dried apricots waiting for them.
"Thank you," she murmured timidly to the dark man.
His smile widened, deepening the lines around the kind eyes, and moved back to his wife with a tray under his arm.
Aoi picked up a dried apricot, studied it for a few moments before bringing it to her lips.
The first bite was bland. After a moment of hesitation, she tore a small piece and chewed, allowing her saliva to coat the apricot. A mildly sweet flavour flooded her mouth. She wriggled her toes and took another eager bite.
…
The farmers, the elderly and infirm, those who couldn't travel the distance across the paddy fields to the infirmary in the central area, it was Genta's main duty to provide health care to these people.
Her mother had said.
Aoi learned that there were times the doctor didn't have to look at anything. He'd chat, ask a few questions, and prescribe medicines. Sometimes, the patients were not given anything at all.
They visited three more houses before stopping for lunch at noon.
Aoi and her mother rested under the shade of a yellowing plum tree overlooking the paddy fields. They shared a lunchbox of onigiri and apples between them.
Genta stood at the roadside, puffing smoke into the air. He didn't eat much, saved for a steamed pork bun.
There were more people milling around, farmers on their lunchbreak. Most stopped briefly to chat with the old man, and every so often, someone would approach the plum tree.
Aoi pulled the brim of her straw hat over her eyes, focusing on her onigiri while her mother returned the friendly greetings. She could barely taste her lunch, feeling their eyes always straying to her.
Their last stop of the day was a stately home belonging to an elderly woman with arthritis and a failing hearing in one ear.
The house was tucked far away from the paddy fields, guarded by high stone walls and a forest with canopies soaring high into the late afternoon sky. It was the only house as far as Aoi could see.
Her mother had told her a few things about the old woman beforehand.
Descended from a long line of scholars and scribes, Miyako was an important figure in the Senju clan. She'd travelled far and wide across lands, venturing into places no Senju shinobi had ever stepped foot. And by herself for fifty-five years, no less. Until two years ago, she had scarcely returned to her homeland, for reasons nobody dared to ask.
They were invited into her study. Bookshelves lined the walls, carrying an impressive collection of books and scrolls stacked up to the ceiling. There were ornaments and bizarre instruments Aoi had never seen on some shelves.
Miyako sat across from them, reclining against an armrest. She had fair skin that was remarkably smooth, aside from the tell-tale lines around her piercing brown eyes. Her glossy silver hair was pulled back into a bun, held together by a wooden comb. The way her head turned at a slight angle as she talked to Genta and Tsubo, the way she held herself, this old woman exuded a dignified air.
Aoi found it hard to believe she was seventy-two.
"So," Miyako's voice was clear as a bell, "this is the child you've been telling me, Genta?"
"Ah."
Her eyes darted to Tsubo. "You adopted her." It was a statement.
"Yes, Miyako-sama," Aoi's mother replied with a subdued nod, grateful when Miyako didn't press any further. Frankly, she was tired from all the questionings.
"What's your name, little girl?"
Aoi jerked with surprise at being addressed. She turned away from eyeing the multitudinous books to the old woman, feeling her cheeks heating up at being caught gawking at her possessions. "A-Aoi," she stammered, lowering head to hide the scarlet skin behind her hair.
Miyako hummed pensively. "Good choice, Tsubo."
…
It was one of those non-physical examination sessions.
Bored of adult conversations, Aoi excused herself and strolled over to the porch outside the study. The forest stood just shy of the stone walls, behind a garden filled with vibrant autumn flowers, it looked like a giant hand had dug up the trees to build this house.
Her bare feet made soft pitter-patters on the wooden strip of walkway as she walked down the length of the porch, which seemed to stretch endlessly around the large house. Rounding a corner, then another, Aoi stumbled upon a room.
The shoji doors were partially opened, allowing the mid-autumn light to warm the interior. She peered inside. The room was minimally decorated with a painting of a jagged mountain, a turquoise vase of brilliant yellow chrysanthemums – all artfully arranged in a raised alcove – and, not surprisingly, a low bookshelf.
Curiosity got the better of her.
Aoi slipped through the gap and padded towards the books. She brushed the spines with tentative fingers, trying to decipher the embossed titles without much success.
Her hand paused at one book, the tip of her fingers grazing a depiction of a spiral shell.
...
"What brings you to my bedroom?"
Aoi shot to her feet with a yelp, nearly dropping the book from her hands in the process. She whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of Miyako at the doorway.
"I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't know it's your b-bedroom." Aoi shuffled back into the bookshelf behind her when the old woman stepped into the room. She thrust the book out, stopping Miyako in her steps.
Miyako gave the cover a cursory glance. "Can you read?" she asked.
Aoi cautiously raised her head from between her outstretched arms enough to peek at her in puzzlement. There didn't seem to be any traces of ire or contempt on Miyako.
"Not very well," the girl admitted, straightening her back and lowering her arms. "There are words that I don't know or understand."
"How about write?"
Aoi shook her head, growing self-conscious at her confessions.
Miyako lapsed into a pensive, studying the redhead squirming in discomfort under her scrutiny.
"Would you like to learn?"
Aoi's head shot up with astonishment. For a moment, Miyako saw a gleam of yearning in the bright azure eyes before the look faded.
"Will I know what the man is looking for?"
Miyako's eyes fluttered to a close, shutting away the nostalgia. "That all depends on you, child."
Frantic footsteps charged down the porch, causing them to glance over the doorway.
Her mother skidded to a halt in front of the bedroom and let out a gasp. "Aoi! What are you doing here?" she demanded, marching up to the redhead. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"
Aoi lowered her gaze remorsefully. "I'm sorry… okaa-chan."
Miyako lifted a hand when Tsubo was about to open her mouth. "She has apologised. To you, and me earlier. There is no need to reprimand a child who has done nothing wrong, Tsubo."
Tsubo glanced at Aoi. The sight of her daughter close to tears seemed to quell the fire in her.
Miyako observed the two. Praying this wouldn't end with regrets, she turned to the mother. "Tsubo, if you've calmed down, I have an interesting proposition if you like to hear."
Patches of clouds dotted a periwinkle sky as mother and daughter made their way back home through the forest behind Miyako's house. Genta had parted from them outside her house.
The light in the forest was sufficient, and Tsubo was familiar with the route. Nevertheless, Aoi stuck close to her mother, hugging the book with the spiral shell logo while holding onto her mother's hand.
She felt giddy with excitement. Her mother had forgiven her – even permitting her to learn how to read and write!
"I've always wanted to hire someone to help me clean the house," Miyako had said. "Consider it an exchange."
Aoi couldn't wait.
They had been walking for about fifteen minutes when the first line of the bamboo forest came within sight. The central area, her home, was not too far now.
It started out faint, growing in volume as they moved closer to the bamboos. To their far left, a group of children was heading to the central area from a different direction. The forest was filled with their rambunctious voices as they laughed and cracked jokes.
Aoi eyed them curiously. They couldn't be much older than her, and some were wearing something familiar over their clothes. Someone at the back of the group faltered and glanced in their direction, causing her to hastily looked away.
She pulled on her mother's hand and pointed discreetly at the group. "Why are they wearing armours like otou-chan?" she asked. "Where's mine?"
Her mother froze, bringing them to a standstill. The sound of the children's laugh echoed around them.
"Okaa-chan?"
Her mother dropped down to her eye-level. The face before Aoi had taken a disturbing pallor as hands reached out to clasp her small shoulders.
"Listen closely to me, Aoi," Tsubo began. "You don't need those. As long as there's breath in my body, you will not wear them – and I pray to the heavens, you shall never need them."
"Why?" Aoi couldn't help but ask.
The grip on her shoulders tightened.
"You'll get hurt," her mother whispered.
Ever since that day, he couldn't get it out of his mind.
Ever since that day, he had devoted his free time to familiarise himself with her foreign chakra.
Living in a valley filled with Senju, their chakra easily drowned out her unique signature, he had initially struggled to track her down. Today, he was lucky to catch her on a break from shadowing her mother and the doctor with the acrid tobacco stench.
The redhead sat with her back against the trunk of a magnolia tree, knees drawn to her chest, a book clutched in her hands.
Earlier, he had caught a glimpse of the cover. It still surprised him that she was reading the book. It was the first of a series of an epic he was pursuing.
A frustrated sigh escaped her. Her face was scrunched up in a glare. Had he not 'learned' of her limited grasp in kanji, he would have a serious problem figuring out why the girl looked as if the text offended her.
As she turned to the next page, Tobirama reassessed himself while concealed in his hiding place.
Spending the better of his free time spying on a girl… if Hashirama was here, he wouldn't hear the end of it.
But he wasn't.
Tobirama wasn't here to fool around.
He remembered his mother explicitly ordered Hashirama not to bother the new family while the girl settled in after breaking the news of her adoption. Tobirama wasn't sure what to make of it. So long as the girl posed no threat to the clan, she could do whatever.
He'd seen her with her mother at the bamboo forest. She looked harmless. He'd had quickly sensed her chakra out of curiosity and it had bothered him since.
Tobirama studied her from his vantage point of view, eyes immediately drawn to her hair. The shock of red stood out even amidst the autumn colours around them. 'Carrot. Not pumpkin.'
He shook his head feverishly to rid the vivid colour from his vision and refocused on her chakra. No longer did it feel foreign to him, he unhesitatingly dove deeper.
Her chakra pathway was like a deep river and he was swimming within its depths in darkness, blindly searching until his groping hands felt it.
It wavered in and out of existence, like a rippling shadow cast by a flickering candlelight before disappearing completely from his senses. No matter how many times he searched, there was only a desolate landscape at the bottom of the river.
Tobirama pulled back, numbed with confusion.
Maybe he was wrong. Or he was going about it the wrong way. He was still far, far behind his mother's skill in sensing chakra. Whatever it was, might as well didn't exist at all. There was nothing out of ordinary about the girl.
Tobirama abandoned his post, landing softly on the ground. He shifted around and a snap cut through the air, reeling his mind back to the present.
"W-who's there?" a startled voice asked.
Cursing his carelessness, he quickly lifted his foot from a broken twig. But it was too late.
The girl had stepped around the tree, holding the book to her chest and blinking owlishly at him.
Hashirama didn't do her justice, Tobirama realised.
The fair complexion, hair reminiscent of carrots and pumpkins framing her round face, and even those freckles seemed to augment the startling blue of her eyes. It was like staring into an abyss, he missed the look of recognition rippling across the surface.
"Umm, can I help you with something?"
Tobirama flinched back at her voice, his mouth popping open. "A-ah –"
"Aoi."
Tobirama didn't notice the small distance between them until he started counting the freckles on her button nose. He backpedalled from the bemused redhead until he could breathe his own air.
"Are you sick?" she asked, elucidating each syllable as though she was talking to one of Genta's patients with poor hearings. "I can fetch my mother if you wait."
"I don't –" he started.
She tilted her head, regarding him with naïve curiosity.
Those damn blue eyes.
"I mean – I – You're weird."
So Tobirama finally meets Aoi.
This chapter was updated late because I was distracted by chapter 4 - haha. The next chapter is complete. Just needs editing. But it'll probably be posted two weeks later like this chapter since I'll be continuing chapter 5. I'm not sure if this will become my update frequency.
Thank you to those who fav'd and followed Hollyhock! See you next chapter ~