Chapter 96: Shadows, Suspicions, and the Sucker's Lament
The small, cramped room smelled of damp wool and boy-sweat. Naruto's snores were a rhythmic, guttural sawing. Sasuke's breathing was silent, but the tense line of his shoulders beneath the thin blanket betrayed a light, alert sleep. Ren lay on his back, eyes open, staring at the water-stained ceiling. The immediate crisis was over, but the night's agenda was only half complete.
In the psychic theater of the Pure Land, the audience was growing restless, their attention pivoting from the medical drama to the promised surveillance farce.
[Tobirama Senju: The houselights are dimmed. The players are in position. When does the main feature begin, young Ren? The suspense is murder. Again.]
[Uchiha Izuna: Eager, aren't we, Tobirama? The subject hasn't even stirred. Let the man have his… pre-show contemplation.]
[Tobirama Senju: Contemplation is for philosophers and cowards. Action is for Senju. Sakumo! Prompt your contractor!]
Sakumo Hatake's digital presence was a knot of paternal anxiety and grim determination. [Sakumo Hatake: Patience. The lights just went out. Even if Kakashi is… inclined… he'd wait for the household to settle. Ren will move when the time is right.]
Ren sent a pulse of acknowledgement. He's right. Let the watchful think we're all asleep. Besides, the chat is getting interesting.
And it was. The conversation had taken a dark, speculative turn.
[Uchiha Fugaku: Speaking of waiting in the dark… it reminds me of a question I've always had, Fourth Hokage. That night with the Kyuubi. With your speed, you could have grabbed Naruto and Kushina and been ten miles away before the beast finished its swipe. Yet you chose to stand in front of it. A heroic sacrifice, certainly. But also… statistically, a guaranteed double-kill for the fox. Almost like you were feeding it.]
The accusation, wrapped in faux curiosity, landed like a poisoned senbon.
[Hyūga Hizashi: Now that you mention it… the positioning was peculiar. A Hokage-level shunshin user opting for a stationary block…]
[Tobirama Senju: A 'double-kill'? What is this gaming terminology? Explain.]
[Uchiha Fugaku: It's a modern term, Second Hokage. It means handing the enemy two eliminations on a silver platter. Minato-sama handed himself and his wife to the Kyuubi in one, tidy package.]
[Minato Namikaze: That's not what happened! I used the Reaper Death Seal! I was already a dead man! Kushina had her Bijū extracted—she was dying too! I just… wanted us to go together! It was romantic!]
He projected the image with desperate pride: the golden couple, united in sacrifice, defying the monster together.
[Tobirama Senju: Romantic? ROMANTIC? You imbecile! The Uzumaki physique can survive brief Bijū extraction! It's traumatic, not instantly fatal! You could have re-sealed the damned fox into her or into the boy and both lived! Instead, you chose a dramatic exit and orphaned your son because you thought it would make a good story?!]
Tobirama's fury was incandescent, a cold, analytical rage at staggering stupidity.
[Minato Namikaze: I… the seal… it was complex…]
[Tobirama Senju: You invented the Flying Thunder God! You think I believe you were stumped by a containment seal? You saw a chance for a grand, tragic finale and took it, consequences be damned! You used the Kyuubi as a prop in your marital death scene!]
The reinterpretation was brutal, devastating. Minato's presence in the chat flickered, aghast.
[Kushina Uzumaki: …Minato? Is that true? You let me die for… aesthetics?]
[Minato Namikaze: NO! Kushina, never! I loved you! I wanted to protect you!]
[Uchiha Fugaku: Protect her by standing still? Interesting strategy.]
The roasting was universal now. The other Kage, sensing Konoha's legendary Fourth Hokage was on the ropes, piled on.
[Third Raikage: In Kumogakure, we call that 'tactical incompetence.' Or 'spousal negligence.']
[Yagura Karatachi: Kirigakure would have court-martialed you for dereliction of duty and reckless endangerment of a Jinchūriki asset.]
[Ōnoki: Iwagakure concurs. Wasteful.]
Minato was drowning in posthumous shame. [Minato Namikaze: It wasn't like that! You're twisting it!]
[Uchiha Fugaku: We're just following the evidence, Fourth. The evidence points to you being a hopeless romantic who confused a battlefield for a stage. And now your son is an orphan who talks to plants and uses Transformation Jutsu to give children nosebleeds. The apple doesn't fall far.]
[Uchiha Izuna: Enough about the tragic lovebirds! What about this 'sucker' theory Fugaku mentioned? 'New build'? 'Used goods'? What in the name of Izanami's left nipple are you on about?]
Fugaku's text took on a smug, professorial tone. [Uchiha Fugaku: Ah, a concept from my later philosophical ruminations. When a man marries a widow, he is, in economic terms, a 'sucker'—acquiring a depreciated asset with significant prior mileage. A 'new build' is a virgin bride. Optimal. A 'used' one, especially one with… 'structural damage' from previous ownership… is a poor investment. Too much maintenance. Exhausting.]
The chat exploded.
[Uchiha Izuna: BY THE ANCESTORS, FUGAKU! HAVE YOU NO TACT?]
[Uchiha Mikoto: F U G A K U !]
[Nohara Rin: That's the most vile, objectifying thing I've ever heard!]
[Tobirama Senju: And I thought my brother was naive. You, Uchiha, are a certified cretin.]
Ren couldn't resist. Fugaku. That 'sucker' theory. The terminology… it's very specific. Are you sure you didn't… read that somewhere? In a future timeline, perhaps?
[Uchiha Fugaku: Future? No. It came to me in a moment of clarity while watching Mikoto give birth to Sasuke. The sheer… effort of it all. The wear and tear. It sparked an economic analysis of matrimony.]
Right, Ren thought, filing away Fugaku's bizarre, anachronistic misogyny as another data point in the 'weirdness of the Uchiha' column. A regular Adam Smith of the delivery room.
[Kushina Uzumaki: You… you utter… Her text dissolved into a series of symbols that might have been electrical interference or pure, unfiltered rage.**
The domestic drama was reaching a fever pitch. It was the perfect cover.
Now, Ren thought. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to focus inward. He activated the 'Silent Shadow Weave' technique Sakumo had just donated. His chakra signature dampened, his presence in the room grew faint, diffuse. To any sensor, he would feel like a slightly denser patch of shadow, no more notable than the wardrobe in the corner.
He rose from his pallet without a sound, a phantom in the dark. He slid past the sleeping forms of Naruto and Sasuke, eased the door open a crack, and slipped into the narrow hallway.
The house was silent, save for the creak of old timber settling. Kakashi and Tazuna's room was next door. Ren pressed himself against the wall, extending his senses through the Meditation technique. Two heartbeats. One old and slow (Tazuna), one steady and controlled but… awake (Kakashi).
And there was the faint, unmistakable rustle of paper.
Ren formed a single, subtle hand seal—a minor variation on a scrying technique he'd picked up from some forgotten sensor-nin donor. A tiny, transparent film of chakra spread from his fingertip, seeping under the door and solidifying into a lens no larger than a pinhead on the other side. It linked to his visual cortex, granting him a fish-eye, monochrome view of the room.
Kakashi was sitting on his bedroll, his back to the door. The moonlight from the small window illuminated the familiar orange cover of Icha Icha Paradise in his hands. He was perfectly still, save for the slow turn of a page.
Ren watched. One page. Another. Kakashi's breathing remained even. No unusual movements. No… supplemental activities.
He was just reading.
[Sakumo Hatake: SEE?! He's just reading! A harmless, literary pastime! My boy is innocent!]
[Uchiha Izuna: Harmless? At this hour? That's obsessive. Unhealthy. The sign of a deprived mind.]
[Tobirama Senju: He's turning a page. With his right hand. His left is… holding the book steady. No deviations. This is inconclusive! Ren, you need a better angle! Can you see his face? Is there… perspiration? A flushed complexion?]
Ren adjusted the chakra lens minutely, trying to get a side view. Kakashi's visible eye was crinkled in its usual lazy smile as he read. He looked… engrossed. Amused. Not aroused.
Then, Kakashi did something unexpected. He let out a quiet, genuine chuckle, a soft, rustling sound. He shook his head slightly, as if at a particularly good joke in the text. He dog-eared a page carefully, closed the book, and set it aside. He then lay down, pulled his blanket up to his chin, and within minutes, his breathing deepened into the slow rhythm of sleep.
That was it. Literary appreciation, then rest.
[Sakumo Hatake: VINDICATION! MY SON IS A MAN OF CULTURE, NOT A PERVERT! IZUNA, APOLOGIZE!]
[Uchiha Izuna: Hmph. 'Culture.' Fine. He reads smut and goes to sleep like a normal person. Boring.]
[Tobirama Senju: Anticlimactic. I was promised scandal. I feel cheated.]
[Hashirama Senju: I'm just glad it was peaceful. All this suspicion is tiresome.]
Ren dissolved the chakra lens and retreated silently back to his room. He slipped under his own blanket, the 'Silent Shadow Weave' dissipating.
Mission accomplished for Sakumo. Kakashi's nocturnal habits were, if not highbrow, at least solitary and non-invasive.
But as Ren lay back down, his own mind wasn't on Kakashi's reading material. It was on the cold, patient presence still lingering at the edge of his sensory range, somewhere in the mist outside. The watcher had seen their healing, their drama, their eventual settling-in.
You've seen our weakness, Ren thought, staring into the dark. And our resilience. You've seen the clown and the healer. You're recalculating.
Good.
Because so am I.
The real performance for the audience in the mist was about to begin. And Ren had no intention of his role being a passive one.