Right, this epilogue has proved to be... Polarizing. So much so that I'm hesitant to upload it here too.
Please keep in mind that the story proper ended in 039 - Seven Colours. If you don't like what's revealed here, feel free to ignore it. Nobody outside the room where this epilogue takes place will ever know about what transpired here, and henceforth the story will remain unchanged even if you choose to disregard it.
041 - Mother's Epilogue: Out of context problem.
It arrived as it was expected, a somber-looking jonin bearing the Konoha forehead protector and carrying dire news. The man was cautiously respectful, but didn't hesitate to look her in the eye to give his report and condolences. Old enough to have heard the stories then, but not old enough to have lived through them.
No matter.
The pleasantries are exchanged, the letter of condolences delivered, signed by the whole ninja council in absence of a seated Hokage, and the package with her daughter's recovered worldly possessions received. She dismisses the man from her presence and her mind, and walks back inside her ancestral home.
Her steps are measured as she walks down the main corridor, her face stony and her eyes stormy. Unhurriedly, she opens the door to her office and steps around her desk. The letter and package fall softly in front of her as she takes her seat. Only then, as she interlaces her fingers under her chin, does she finally break the silence.
"Tell the boss I won't be available." The dark silhouette of a shadowy lizard-like creature fades into view on one of the walls, and hurries to leave through the window after a curt nod. Through the closed window, being two dimensional is useful like that.
With what would've been a drawn out sigh on anyone else, but barely reflects as a minute relaxation around her eyes, she fishes for the extended report accompanying the condolence letter. The blood samples left in the scene allowed for the identification of the presumed killer, a kenjutsu master Kusa missing-nin, assumed to have been recruited by Orochimaru for this operation with an estimated A-rank threat level.
Then the report goes on unsubtly praising the victim's prowess, stalling a superior opponent for nearly half an hour through combat prowess alone and a lot of similar blatantly doctored pacifying shit one would write to a grieving mother when one desperately wants to avoid said mother flipping out and one has no idea how to actually pacify a grieving mother. But it's enough for her to get a mental picture of the situation.
"Oh, Ran. You really pulled all the stops for this one." She mutters, and only someone very familiar with her would be able to pick the hints of fond amusement in her otherwise flat voice. "I wonder if she ever realized what exactly she was up against."
She then focuses on the personal effects package, a hand reaching inside and unerringly pulling out a tin locket without sparing a thought for anything else inside. She turns it around in her hand, feeling for the seal work. It's a beautiful and secure thing, keeping the inside safe from anyone and anything except their rightful owner, and the holder of the matching piece.
There's a not-quite snort of derision when she verifies the seal work hasn't been tampered with this last month. Since the loss of Uzushiogakure, Konoha has been losing it's touch with seals. A flick of her wrist, and the locket opens, filling the silent office with its melancholic music and revealing the picture inside.
This time, she allows herself a slight smile, recognising the scene from her own birthday some years ago. It shows Ran and Karin in the center, with Makisu and herself standing behind them. Her daughter has always been more sentimental than anyone gives her credit for. Undertale, really?
Turning the picture around, she almost can't hold back an amused chuckle at the overly corny words she finds there. Yes, this was intended for little Karin alright.
… Maybe she should follow her example?
Decision made, a blank scroll is produced, and short but precise words are addressed to her daughter in all but blood. She then loses no time in getting her own mail package ready, handing it to the horned lizard that suddenly has been standing on her desk all this time and what do you mean there was nothing there a second ago?
"For the Courier-nin, I think." She comments as the lizard proceeds to swallow the package whole. "I don't want to cause trouble sending an unknown summon into a Village on high alert."
The summon somehow manages to produce a tittering sound of disapproval even in the middle of the swallowing process.
"I know, but it's the principle of the matter." She retorts. "It just would be rude to intrude."
With a last hurt glance as it finally manages to close its mouth, the lizard turns away and disappears into… somewhere.
"You could've made it easier for her, you know?" A voice she's not heard in a lifetime, but she would never be able to forget, comes from beside her. It's a voice that fills both her dreams and nightmares. "I wouldn't have complained even if you… pruned the world a little, Momo-chan."
She calmly turns around, noting how the wall of her office has turned into a mirror and how there's someone else taking her place in the reflected scene. A delicate beauty of pale skin and golden hair, dressing in a tight business suit that accentuates her curvy figure and contrasts pleasantly against the equally golden fur of her nine fox tails.
The mirror-world woman flicks the golden fox ears at the top of her head, blood red eyes shining with amused mirth. And she can't help but reflect on how people of this world would trip over themselves to reach a hilariously wrong conclusion about her appearance.
Fools, all of them.
"I don't do coddling, Boss." She answers the creature. "Those are Ran's hurdles and trials, for her to overcome."
"Your superman dilemma thing again?" The beautiful monster asks with bored interests. "I really think you should've done whatever you wanted for once. This was your vacation, after all."
"And I did whatever I wanted." She huffs, there's no point in sticking to her poker face against this terrifying entity she calls boss, they know each other too well… and she can read minds. "Sometimes regrets and what-ifs sneak up on one, even if they make the right choice."
"… She'll be fine, you know?." The terror incarnate comments.
"Of course she'll be fine, she's my daughter."
"And yet you worry anyway."
"Of course I worry, she's my daughter."
"... You keep acting like a mortal when it comes to family." The monster sighs, shaking her head in defeat. "Sometimes I think I'd have to have a child of my own to ever begin to understand."
"Might not be enough, boss." The human points out. "I am mortal, more or less." And you're a timeless abomination whose feelings of attachment are pathologically incapable of growing beyond 'idle interest'.
There's a brief pause as the monster examines her nails, humming carelessly as they grow longer and shorter under her critical eye, until she finally nods in satisfaction and focuses back on the conversation.
"It's time to come back to work, Momo-chan." She announces, a gate opening between the real and mirror rooms. "The deal was until your daughter left the nest."
"I know." She answers simply, already standing up from her desk.
"Every time we go through this I expect you to raise a stink about having to leave your children behind. Isn't that part of what mortal mothers are supposed to do?"
"Maybe it is." She admits slowly. "But Ran is ready, she doesn't need me anymore." And she's never been your average mortal mother anyway. "A deal is a deal."
"Yeah, whatever. I'll keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. At least you're entertaining."
"That's why you picked me, didn't you Boss?" She's given up in ever getting a straight answer, but no way in hell she was recruited at random. "I'm a barrel of laughs."
"I picked you to laugh as the plans of men and gods turn into dust, and to drink the sweet, sweet nectar of derailed fate while being paid for it. But I guess the entertainment is a good bonus."
Ignoring her Boss' last comment, she stands in front of the gate and directs her thoughts towards this world one last time. Yes, Ran is ready to strike out on her own. She can leave without regrets. Nobody will associate the last Shimada scion with the Seven-Coloured Puppeteer unless something goes utterly wrong.
Though she has to wonder why so many of her daughters obsess with getting second identities when they leave the nest. At least it's always amusing to try and figure out which character they'll use as inspiration.
"Coming, Momo-chan?"
"… Yes, Boss."
Shimada Momoko, the Dragon Sleeping in the Grass and last Head of the Shimada Clan disappears through a door leading nowhere and the Shimada are no more.
At least, in this world.
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