For a week now, I've attempted to connect with people of my generation, as well as a few others. It caused my brain to think about stuff that it cannot handle.

Questions like "what is love?" or "where does friendship start and end?" or even "why these bonds?" bounce under my skull like overeager hamsters in a small cage. The ostracized orphan card gets old but my upbringing - or lack thereof - really doesn't help me figure it out. I mean, thinking about it, aren't those emotions crazy? They exist beyond our control, link us to one another like steel chains or silk threads, make us ignore sound reason and help us endure most pain until they turn into the root of our most profound hurt.

Fascinating, admittedly but honestly, what even is all that? You appreciate someone for their qualities; because their personality matches yours in a process I can't explain but friendship - and even more so love - is greater than any of these individual parts. You then become liable to do all sorts of stupid things in the name of this bond. From experience, there's also a high possibility for it to blind you to this someone's faults.

That is not all, however; there exist different kinds of love.

I've been told of the birds and the bees long ago so I know that physical desire is a thing but how does it fit in the equation? Why does the thought of bedding Tsunade, objectively one of the most beautiful women in existence, fill me with the urge to vomit? Why does the sway of Tenten's hips act like a magnet for my eyes?

"I'm not certain meeting with Orochimaru did you any good," rumbles Kurama.

I lie sprawled on my bed, eyes wide open. The sky is dark outside my window. "Questioning things makes for good mental gymnastics."

"I'm quite certain they didn't speak about the mechanisms of emotions."

"I'm a Sennin and the inheritor of Ninshuu. The mechanisms of emotions are precisely what interests me most."

"I think their quest for immortality is less of a fool's errand than yours."

"Don't I specialize in fool's errands?" I joke as I roll out of my bed.

"Well, you shouldn't. Also, I believe you are misleading yourself. What interests you are emotions themselves. Seriously, Naruto, some things are meant to be instinctual, lived and experienced rather than rationalized. Ninshuu is entirely about connecting with others on a level beyond reason."

I sigh and enter my shower to freshen up. "You're right, of course. It's just all so confusing."

I open the water and the warm flow relaxes me as I think of my various encounters this past week.

I don't think I'll ever be more than an acquaintance to Kiba and Ino. They properly apologized for their jealousy when I confronted them about it and I accepted their sentiments. We just don't vibe together. Me handing over my hitai-ate greatly shocked them too. Fiercely loyal Kiba understood, surprisingly enough but Ino didn't. Or rather, she didn't want to acknowledge my grievances as founded. It asks many uncomfortable questions about her village, her too recently departed father and more and she isn't ready to confront them yet.

I'm on the fence regarding Shikamaru, Choji, Hinata and Shino but overall not too optimistic.

I think I've mortally insulted Shino. I somehow never realized that, hidden under the long coat, was a girl. I didn't allow it to outwardly affect me when I accidentally learned about it in her presence but Shino is a perceptive individual so I think she is onto me. It's a shame because I'd really like to exchange more with her.

Shikamaru is the improbable mix of congenital laziness, a sharp mind and a burning belief in the Will of Fire. I do not know how he hasn't self-destructed from being such a contradiction yet but seeing as I've lived cut in two halves for years, I'm not one to talk. His fussing over his late sensei's daughter is endearing, the rest of him not so much.

He sounds of carefulness against my empathic web. As long as I never move against Konoha, we'll never fight one another. It hurts somewhat that he would consider and plan for it and I've no interest in dealing with his suspicion.

Meeting with Hinata proved to be weird. The girl has certainly found her courage and showed none of the shyness she used to display in front of me. The contact happened easily enough but I felt her disappointment; not in me - politely! - declining her confession but in the fact that I resigned from the shinobi forces and left my chase of the Hokage hat.

I'm not too sure who exactly she thinks she loves and Hinata herself doesn't seem so certain of it anymore. Until she figures it out, though, we might be friends.

Choji is polite, has not a word higher than the other and lives for family, friends and food. He is also quite easily influenced. He struggles with a discordant mixture of thankfulness and distrust. His wariness probably dates back from our childhood and his interactions with his father and Shikamaru's stance probably fed it. It pains me but I'm done with reaching out only to be met with circumspect feelings at best.

Is it wrong to be afraid of the most powerful man in the world? Maybe not but I've no intention to curb myself for their little comfort. I've got nothing to prove. If Choji solves his conundrum, we might become friends but I doubt it. Any of our interactions now will be branded by this mistrust.

I gather a bit of soap in my hand and scrub myself clean. The last remnants of the night are washed away.

Hanging out with Tenten or Lee or Sakura or Sai happens naturally. No silence is uncomfortable, words come and go smoothly and laughter often follows. They don't resent or fear either me, Kurama or my powers. The day she found out about my resignation, Sakura sought me out, hugged me, asked if everything was alright, then took her day off so that we could splurge on ramen. Lee felt so sorry he cried. Sai smiled - actually, genuinely, not creepily smiled - and wished me the best.

My mother told me that it's okay not to have too many friends but that they ought to be true. I think she'd be happy for me.

That "it" clicks with some people and not others baffles me. I can't help it. I used to spout about becoming Hokage to earn the acknowledgement of the whole village and my developing - or not - relationships put things into sharp relief. I'd have never achieved this goal of mine, plain and simple.

I do want to embrace as many connections as I can, however, which is why I met Tomiko's ragtag bunch of lost kittens. Karin was just as overjoyed as I was to discover she isn't the last Uzumaki. I introduced her to Tsunade and asked Shizune and Sakura to teach her to direct her healing chakra, as a favour to me. Suigetsu is a funny guy, kind of fearful and cynical. He seems like the kind of man who steps up when needed, though. Jugo likes butterflies, flowers and terrifies himself. I know what it's like to house an uncontrollably destructive power within you. I also learned that to face it and make peace with it is the only way not to become its slave. Obviously, I offered to help.

I'm an idiot. I step out of the shower and towel off the water dripping from my frame.

It led me to meet Orochimaru, of all people. He/She/They - the individual born male and occupying a female body nowadays, I don't judge - sits peacefully in a cell all day long, reading books and observing the birds that fly by his sealed window. I don't even see the point in holding Orochimaru in prison. He seems to have reached a form of peace that blatantly ignores all walls.

I did not merely visit him so that he could make good on what he had already promised to Jugo long ago before he ruthlessly exploited the boy's naivety and Kekkei Genkai. I also asked him to teach me how to be curious, as well as a method to structure my upcoming experimentations. Any knowledge I lack, I can find in books but how does one structure their thoughts, results and hypothesis? That is what interests me. I need to truly learn how to learn.

Kakashi never taught me that, Jiraiya never bothered either. Yes, they talked about "looking underneath the underneath" and "figuring it out by yourself" but they never explained how. Lame ass teachers, the both of them. They never understood that it's not that I'm unwilling to learn by myself but that I wasn't given the intellectual tools to do so.

Also, at the end of the day, instructors instruct, period. Reformulating, showing and hand-holding, alongside progressively given autonomy, is a part of the early learning process precisely so that you don't have to keep doing it later on. I've learned more in a single afternoon with Orochimaru than I did in years with Jiraiya and Kakashi.

With my erstwhile "teachers'' I made do, I improvised, I swam or sank. Let me tell you, there's a gap - scratch that, a whole ravine - between the blind improvisation they forced upon me and the conceptualized curiosity Orochimaru instructed me in.

That doesn't even take into consideration Kakashi humiliating me during our genin exam, treating me like a moron, outright neglecting my development, pawing me off to a bunch of perverts during the chunin exam and sending me off against Gaara without a clue about my skill set.

But it isn't that surprising. Aren't I the sacrifice after all? The one you enrol in the forces without leaving him a choice, as Namikaze did? The one you expect to tear his psyche apart for the sake of the village like Sarutobi did? The one you don't bother to train as a shinobi then like Kakashi did? The one you reduce to the beast he contains as Jiraiya did?

With the best of intentions, of course; always with the best of intentions. Only never asking for my opinion.

I've already let Kakashi know exactly what I think of him. I've given my personal eulogy to Sarutobi, Namikaze and my master as well. I've forgiven them too. I made them irrelevant. I heard Kakashi's hurt ring against my empathic senses. It wrenched my insides painfully but responsibilities and failures must be faced.

He just has to bury his negative feelings deep within, deep enough that a split personality emerges as a result. I did it, why couldn't he? He'll be happy then, as I was. Even Kurama winces at the mean streak that pervades my mind for a second.

I shake my head and quickly dispel the cruel thought. I let out a breath and the bitterness spills out of me along with it. I've accepted that I cannot expect that from anyone, intellectually and morally. I shouldn't have been able to even do it in the first place. Chances were higher for me to end up like Gaara. What I did, ripping apart my own chakra to unconsciously seal a part of my personality, is an impossibility.

It doesn't change the fact that my relationship with Kakashi stands at a rocky crossroads. If he wants anything to do with me, he will have to put in the effort. I did my best to bridge the distance during my genin days and he never responded. The ball lies on his side. I hope he owns up to it. I do have affection for him, in spite of it all.

I pull my clothes on and create a Kage Bunshin. My replica gathers a number of sheets with lists of kanji printed on them. Both of us exit my apartment and I direct my feet towards the northernmost end of the village while my clone goes south. The streets are quiet as I walk through Konoha. People aren't up yet - the sun barely is. I've been following a new, stricter routine for a few days, trying my best to build some discipline for myself. Healthy meals, regular cleaning sessions, early bedtime, early wake up and carefully planned workouts.

I can still grow taller (and stronger, yeah) and I'll be damned if I don't do my best to do just that! No, I'm not salty about my size.

When I reach the wall, I start running alongside it at a relaxed pace. It takes me ten minutes of jogging to circle around Konoha before I reach the southernmost point. I enter training ground number twenty and begin a stretching routine. My clone is already sitting against one of the wooden posts, reading through the kanji lists. The sun has risen from behind the Hokage Monument and paints the sky a rich golden hue. As I flow from one kata to the next, the heavens turn blue and the daily star becomes a full disc of a warm white.

I'm just finished with my routine when my training partner makes his appearance.

"Naruto-kun! You are as youthful as usual this morning!"

Rock Lee beams a smile at me, all twinkling eyes, shining teeth and thumbs up. I grin back. I've found him weird for the longest time but nowadays, I appreciate his mannerism for what it represents: boundless optimism, strong work ethics and fierce loyalty to himself and his comrades.

"Back at you, Lee. Everything fine?"

"Youthful even! Shall we begin?"

I've convinced Lee to help me build an entirely new Taijutsu. Lee has already mastered (or well, almost) the style of his master Gai Maito, the Goken; now, it sounds logical to me that he should strive to surpass it. Lee seemed enchanted by the idea. We've been at it for five entire mornings already and we've barely established the structuring philosophy we wish to give to our technique.

Goken relies on internally powering the body with chakra and physically breaking the opponent. Juken - the Hyuga Taijutsu - aims to lock and destroy the organs of the enemy by infusing specially moulded chakra through the target's tenketsu. Tsunade's brand works by timely releasing a pulse of chakra upon impact. Every Taijutsu I know is fundamentally offensive.

I'm not naive enough to imagine that all fighting will cease forever; Kurama took great care to hammer this notion in my brain. He has known humankind for the longest, after all. Today, the nations are united in a fragile alliance but Obito did teach me one lesson. The selfish desire of any man could tip the balance of peace at any time. Everyone should have a right to defend themselves as well. Shinobi serve as warriors first and foremost, however, and no warrior is a peacekeeper.

That's why I want to create something revolutionary: a Taijutsu meant to disable. It must become as much a school of thought as a fighting method.

Lee gets a pair of half-moon glasses from a pouch and puts them on his nose. The vision doesn't fail to make me smile. Apparently, he must wait for his degrading eyesight to stabilize somewhat before he can be operated on. In the meantime, I get to work with Lee with glasses. I go to where my clone sits and take a bunch of rolled scrolls. We've jotted down our reflection on them.

Ninshuu has gifted me a peculiar insight into the dynamic of a confrontation. Chakra merges body and mind, flows in and out, primes and follows intent and action both. Ninshuu strips the energy from any artifice, cleanse it of all manipulation; it exposes will and deed. It is around this understanding of chakra that I need to build my Taijutsu. Disrupt the chakra, disrupt both the hostile motion and the harmful intent and inversely.

The question now is: how do I get such a result? It's all well and good to philosophize but at some point, it's time to get sweaty.

For the following four hours, ideas fuse; we spar as I expand my senses with Senjutsu, Kurama's help and a bit of both, then Lee and I test various stances to fit my impressions. At some point, Lee writes up a kata which I scratch. Styles are like nations, they separate Man. Borders create "us" and "them" and pit both against one another. This, Nagato taught me.

Something based on Ninshuu should espouse its universalist dimension.

Hence why I think we need open principles to guide us, not a closed-off dogma. Our motions and thoughts ought to remain agile, free to follow what our consciousness asks of us rather than the tenets of a few preachers. We must remain able to question the status quo and rebel against it when it is wrong. This, I learned myself.

I'd have become another tool if I hadn't.

My reflections on Taijutsu have led me down a rabbit hole these past few days, one that runs deep. What qualifies an action as wrong? What should we seek in a moral act? What does good signify? Nagato spoke of justice, how everyone twists the soul of the concept in order to fit their ambition or pain. Can no ideal definition of justice be formulated, one everyone would naturally wish to abide by?

When Lee and I go our separate way to eat lunch, peace seems like a long way off. I'm not one easily discouraged, however, not when the goal is worthwhile.

Given that we mainly experimented, I didn't sweat. I sit in a lotus and my clone dispels, sharing with me the mass of his accumulated knowledge. I assimilate more and more kanji. Once I'm done, I walk directly to Ichiraku. As soon as I enter the streets - busy at this hour of the day - people recognize me. They smile and wave; I return their greetings, keeping a cordial distance between me and the villagers.

They have recognized it for what it means: the Hero of the War may not hate them but he doesn't love them either. Me handing over my hitai-ate acted like a sharp reminder of what they did to me. I feel their guilt and shame, it clangs against my empathic fibre. I sincerely wish them to be able to face and resolve their emotions. I simply won't be shouldering any of it. I just don't hold any of them close enough to my heart to do that.

There lies one obvious limitation of Ninshuu. The power might grant me an innate consciousness of others' emotions, it might allow me to vicariously experience them, it might help me temper my judgement of the people but it cannot make me love them. It is love that bridges the gap between merely acknowledging another's pains and joys and wishing them the best and outright sharing these feelings and being afflicted by them.

Tomiko's plight genuinely hurt me, which explains why I endured so much from her. The people's guilt frankly doesn't. This brings me back, full circle, to why individuals love some people and not others.

Healing this kind of wound is a personal trial anyways. I can meet the villagers halfway and accept their apologies but only they can forgive themselves. This might just lead the villagers to teach some measure of courage to the coming generation. That is the quality that failed them, after all.

A gaggle of children crowds me, I let them. Their sins will be their own. Eyes sparkle when I gather a bit of Katon to make a flame dance between my fingers. Kids are awed by the simplest tricks, find my "whiskers" to be "cool" and ask to caress them and dance around me for a morsel of my attention like I'm their long-gone older brother. They might not know me as Naruto the Hero - the concept is likely too big for their understanding of the world yet - but I much prefer Naruto-niichan.

A chorus of hysterical giggles rewards me when I use the Henge to turn my hair a different colour each time a little hand pulls on one of my spiky locks. A little girl, babbling more than talking, stumbles up to me and caresses my birthmarks like a toddler petting a cat. I feed the littlest amount of chakra to my vocal cords to purr and she claps happily. I'm rescued from the horde of children when my stomach growls. Parents swoop in and I'm free to reach Ichiraku.

It's funny. With my sudden surge in notoriety, the little restaurant has been assaulted by more customers than it ever had. The owners have taken to book a seat especially for me; they call it the "Naruto stool". I take my seat.

"Hello Teuchi, Ayame!"

"Hi, Naruto, my boy." The old cook's greetings haven't changed in the least. I've always been Naruto and I will remain Naruto. I appreciate it.

"One pork ramen, please."

Ayame shoots me an insistent look.

I inhale sharply as I understand the reason behind it. "With extra veggies, please."

"Right away." Ayame can't help the teasing smile that blooms on her lips.

I scratch the back of my head, whiskers a little warm, smile a little bashful. Honestly, Ayame will definitely end up making me like vegetables and fruits. Well, I already like them; the habit of never having any is just deeply rooted still. She is the one I asked to teach me a few cooking tips and tricks. She obliged more than happily and we've scheduled a few lessons for the upcoming weeks. Konohamaru joined me, as planned.

He really is better than me at cooking, the little tyke.

I discuss the weather with Ayame as I slurp my noodles. I get a second drink to prolong the break for a bit before I pay my tab and leave the little stand. A few fangirls are waiting behind the flaps, ready to swoon or glomp me, I'm not too sure. One of them holds a camera; she asks for a photo, I politely refuse. I establish my distances carefully and stop any attempt of excessive familiarity. The encounter remains pleasant; my admirers have understood the limits.

I spend my afternoon reading on the roof of my flat. Next to me, a clone studies Fuinjutsu. The rumours of Konoha reach my ears in a pleasant buzz; the air is warm but the breeze cool. I devour Tenten's second recommendation until nightfall. When the sun dips behind the horizon and I turn the last page, finish the last word, close the book, a fortifying feeling swells in my chest.

I've read, finished and enjoyed a book for the first time in my life. I'm immensely proud of myself, so much so that my chakra wells up and embraces Kurama. My friend smiles and mumbles something, which I don't hear. I'm too busy skipping and dancing on my rooftop. I go to sleep… chipper, I think is the correct word.

The new day brings a new week. The weather remains bright and clear though there is a crisp breeze in the air, one that announces the coming of autumn. I freshen up quickly and pull on a few clothes before I think up my plans. I need to visit the last person I've yet to contact since my assimilation. Not that I didn't want to go sooner but visits are limited. Depending on how it goes, I might begin my lobbying.

I go through my usual routine, meet up with Lee to work on our Taijutsu project and play with the children once we're done, around noon, as I make my way to Ichiraku. I chat up Ayame as I eat my ramen extra veggies. A few other patrons joke and praise the food around me. As I get up to pay for my tab, an older man stops me. His attire and the tone of his skin indicate he isn't a native of Konoha. Maybe from Suna? He smells like hot sand.

"Please, Uzumaki-sama, it's on me."

I smile gratefully but shake my head. "I cannot accept it."

The man bows his head slightly before he looks me in the eyes intently. "Please. We cannot do much to repay what you did. A bowl of ramen is insignificant."

I swallow noisily. Twice. The thought of being treated by a stranger twists my guts and weights on my chest uneasily. Then again, the man simply wishes to express his gratitude. How does one even offer thanks to the saviour of the world? I didn't exactly fight Kaguya and her puppets for the sake of fame either. Suddenly, a strike of inspiration hits me. I sit back down.

"What is your name?"

"Hanzo Kuchiki, Uzumaki-sama."

I offer him my hand and a smile. "Naruto. Where are you from, Hanzo?"

Hanzo considers my outstretched hand for a solid five seconds before he takes it hesitantly. I feel the screams of his self-deprecation, his excitement, his swelling pride and touched honour. We shake hands. An embarrassed smile curves his lips and heat colours his face.

"It's an honour, Naruto-sama," he stutters. "And I'm from Kaze-no-Kuni."

Bingo.

"It's all mine, Hanzo. I'm happy people come all the way here to enjoy the ramen of Teuchi and Ayame." I wink at the pair of cooks, who chuckle and blush. I return my attention to Hanzo.

"I did the easy part, I just fought the baddies. Yes, they were tougher than roaches but I had help. You, on the other hand, have a much bigger responsibility." My eyes sweep over the other patrons, who have fallen silent and are listening. You could hear a pin drop. One by one, I spear each customer with the blue of my gaze before I focus it back on Hanzo. "I gave you back the world but what are you going to do with it?"

The man's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. I squeeze his shoulder and give him a reassuring smile.

"Now that I've saddled you with this question, I think we're even," I say before I rise and pay my bill. "Don't forget to dream, even if it's outlandish. And I'll be here if you ever want to talk."

I'm on my way before anyone at Ichiraku can shake their stupor. I quickly apologize to my gathered fans and go on my way. To be honest, my words are a rip off of the book I've read. Still, the story made me think and night is an astute counsellor. Hagoromo thought connecting punctually through Ninshuu would prove to be enough, Asura gathered people but never reached enough and Nagato passed himself off as a god. Their method proved incomplete but what about a mix of all three?

I've no wish to be deified and today's unity was realized by a common focus on a shared enemy. How long until it crumbles? How long until the old way returns? That is why I might try and spread an idea instead. A dream that people would unite behind, one that would survive the death of this generation and the disappearance of the enemy, one that we could share through Ninshuu.

Happy with my new find, I skip towards my next destination when a voice echoes in my mind.

"I think you have no idea of the logistics behind this plan of yours," grumbles my foxy friend.

"Mah, mah, Kurama, you said things had to be felt, right?"

"You and your total absence of any planning, ever. You'll find yourself at the head of a cult before you know it."

The suggestion halts me in my tracks. I bit my lower lip. "You're joking, right?"

Kurama drags the silence until I start fidgeting.

"Mainly," he concedes eventually with a rumbling chuckle, "but not entirely. You possess more influence over your kind than you understand, Naruto."

"What do you mean?"

Kurama sighs. "I suppose you haven't realized yet but the way you connect to them happens both ways."

I blink. Stupidly, if that wasn't obvious.

"In the same way you can feel their emotions ping against your empathic web, you subconsciously share yours and they pick up on them. The difference is that you overwhelm their web."

I facepalm and drag my hand down my visage. I groan, "since when?!"

"Always. Not that it's surprising; you were born with Asura's karma. But I think you suspected it."

My speeches and their strange efficiency. I tear a few strands of hair off my scalp. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Because I wasn't sure of anything. Even now, I'm only voicing a strong possibility, not a certainty. Even without your uncontrolled use of Ninshuu, humans are influenceable and you are their hero, Naruto. They'll listen to you."

I swallow nervously. A bead of cold sweat trails down my spine. I exhale forcefully. Jeez, talk about a heavy responsibility. Though, why didn't it work on Tomiko? On the villagers here in Konoha? Most importantly, how do I avoid this?

"Because she inherited the karma of Indra and they hated you strongly enough that your good cheers remained useless. And you avoid it by learning to control this ability," provides Kurama.

"But who is going to teach me Ninshuu?!"

Kurama sighs and rolls his eyes. I can feel it, I've got no idea how. "Once upon a time," he begins mockingly, "there existed a wise man with eleven children."

I inhale sharply. Puff out my cheeks. Deflate. "Moo, you're mean. Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Because I thought you wanted to figure it out by yourself. But seeing you bumbling around the concept like an idiot, I eventually figured it was your usual brand of obliviousness."

"So, you and the others can teach me?"

"Yes. We each possess a fractioned understanding of the art but we do possess it. Together, we should be able to keep you from making mistakes."

"Urgh. You need to tell me things like that, Kurama."

"I thought you wanted to learn how to figure things out by yourself?"

I cringe. "Yeah, well, let's put an exception to that. If I start brainwashing people by accident or whatever else, you ring the alarm bell, okay?"

"Sure, sure. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Thanks for telling me."

Much more subdued, I start walking again. My destination stands before me, a small house specially built for its only guest and her guards. An ANBU stops me and prods my body for hidden weapons - we're both perfectly conscious that I don't need a kunai to obliterate him to fine particles if I want. I've warned I'd visit, however, so there's no problem and he lets me in quickly enough.

I knock at the door. The wooden panel opens. I forget to breathe. Something stirs in my chest; it locks my jaw shut and forces my fist tight.

Tomiko Uchiha stands before me, one inch smaller, peering at me with her black eye under the black hair framing her aristocratic, slightly angular mien. Her petite body - only slightly fuller than Sakura's - is wrapped in a dark blue and white kimono. Tomiko has always looked some form of attractive, ranging from cute to beautiful but I used to pay this kind of detail strictly zero attention. Tomiko was the centre of admiration, a subject of envy, a companion of burden, a comrade, a traitor and a friend.

Never a pretty girl, verily so. My mouth dries up. Why do I notice that now?

She blinks. The Rinnegan is kept sealed behind a patch of white cloth. I - someone - sewed a cat on the patch. Badly. Her lips move. She has them slightly damaged, furrowed but still like petals. Her hand reaches for me and pinches my cheek.

"Naruto? You're here?"

I remember to breathe. I feel heat flush my face. "Yes! Of course! What the hell?!"

Tomiko smiles. She never used to smile so the sight is still new to me. It's a dainty, hesitant arching of her lips. My heart skips a beat and my stomach flip-flops.

"Get in, stupid," she giggles.

"You're mean, Tomiko."

"Tea?"

"With pleasure."

She expertly prepares us a teapot and we sit on her engawa. Her house is pretty comfortable - hell, more than my flat. It's another prison without meaning, given Tomiko could just up and leave and I'd be the only one capable of bringing her back. Tomiko accepts her punishment.

"Where is your hitai-ate?"

Perceptive and blunt. I nod. "Have words reached you?"

"None."

"I resigned."

My words stump her for a little while before she frowns. I hear her worry ping. "Why?"

I explain everything to her. By now, my speech is pretty nicely rehearsed, summarized but still complete. It still takes me five solid minutes to give Tomiko the entire rundown. She sets her teacup and lays a feathery touch on my hand for a furtive moment. Goosebumps erupt all along my arm. Her crimson Sharingan stares at me, furious and sorrowful.

"I'm sorry."

I know she is. Her emotions are raging against my empathic web like a stormy sea against a levee. I hold her hand before she can withdraw it and meld an ounce of my chakra with hers. She relaxes. Heirs of Indra, inheritors of the Eyes of the Sage and his prodigious Yin powers, the Uchiha easily lose themselves in their feelings. They do not feel stronger, they simply possess no counterweight. My basically being a Senju - her polar opposite - helps balance her psyche and settle her turmoil.

Beyond lies her chant. When she is calm, I perceive it. A chorus of a sheer single note, it sings of pure warmth, so powerfully, so fully, so wonderfully that my heart swells every time I'm graced by it. It reverberates through my entire being and I've got the impression my chest is going to explode but I'm fine with that. It awakens my core and my own melody sympathizes immediately.

"Thank you."

AN: leave a review and all that jazz.