Nagato and Kushina stood there, dazed as they looked at each other, a strange familiarity welling up inside them— the unmistakable feeling of blood calling to blood.
Kushina stepped forward and spoke softly,
"Don't be nervous. My name is Uzumaki Kushina. You're Nagato, right?"
Nagato nodded nervously.
"I'm also a member of the Uzumaki clan," Kushina said with a gentle smile as she reached out and lightly brushed her hand through Nagato's mottled red hair.
"You don't need to be nervous anymore. Just stay here from now on. If anyone dares bully you, tell me. My husband is the Hokage's successor."
Her tone was gentle, yet domineering to the core.
After all, someone known as 'Red-Hot Habanero' was never going to be mild-tempered.
Nagato nodded again, still tense.
Fugaku stared at Nagato's eyes with barely concealed fascination.
The Rinnegan—its allure was lethal to anyone.
Behind them, Yahiko and Konan watched the scene of family recognition unfold, both wearing knowing, auntie-like smiles.
"What was your mother's name?" Kushina asked softly.
"Uzumaki… Fusō."
"F-Fusō?!"
Kushina's body shook violently, her eyes widening.
"You… you know my mother?" Nagato asked hesitantly, looking at her with caution.
Kushina's fingers trembled.
"She was my aunt."
In an instant, memories surged forth.
Time seemed to flow backward.
In Kushina's eyes shimmered tears as she recalled that rainy twilight from her childhood—
Aunt Fusō gripped her small hand, fleeing the flames of Uzushiogakure.
Cold rain striking her face along the muddy path, and Fusō's low, urgent whisper:
"Don't be afraid. Don't look back."
At that moment, Kushina finally understood why Nagato's presence felt so familiar.
Later, shinobi caught up to them.
Fusō shoved Kushina into the bushes and ran in another direction as a decoy.
That was the last time Kushina ever saw her.
Kushina suddenly turned to Minato.
"Minato, you must protect this child!"
Minato's expression hardened as he nodded solemnly.
He saw the tears in Kushina's eyes—and understood the grief and fixation that had been buried for so many years.
Nagato stood frozen, fists clenched, still unable to believe that he had encountered a blood relative at the very end of fate's road.
Yahiko stepped forward and gently patted Nagato's shoulder.
Konan's eyes softened.
Outside, the autumn wind swept past, carrying fallen leaves along with memories long buried beneath war.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Wen Lan brought Orochimaru to a remote mountainside.
After forming hand seals, a section of rock slowly slid aside.
Inside, the passageway was wide and brightly lit, almost like daylight.
"The area closest to the entrance is the operating room," Wen Lan explained as they walked.
"Further in is the lab, and the deepest section is where you'll rest.
"I'll be leaving Konoha for a while. I'm leaving you two tubes of my blood—hopefully enough to help with the initial experiments."
Inside the laboratory, precision instruments were neatly arranged. Test-tube racks were lined with labeled but empty tubes. The air carried a faint scent of disinfectant.
Orochimaru's fingers brushed across the lab table, excitement flashing in his eyes.
He licked his lips and said in a low, eerie voice,
"Master Wen Lan… could you leave a bit of flesh tissue as well? Not much—just a little."
Wen Lan didn't respond. He extended his hand calmly.
"Lend me a blade."
He didn't use his ninja sword—without a scabbard, it was inconvenient to carry.
He had tried finding one at Tenten's father's shop, but none fit.
In the end, he commissioned the Ninja Cat Clan to make one.
Orochimaru took out a refined surgical knife.
Wen Lan accepted it, glanced at it, then suddenly plunged it into his own left arm, carving a clean arc around the shoulder.
The arm detached instantly.
Just before it hit the ground, Wen Lan's face went a little pale.
He wouldn't die—but damn, that still hurts like hell!
He caught the severed arm with his right hand and handed it to Orochimaru.
"Take it. Don't say I'm stingy. If you succeed, I'll give you another arm too."
Orochimaru was stunned.
He never expected Wen Lan to be this ruthless with himself—cutting off an arm without hesitation.
His fingers trembled as he accepted the arm, his eyes burning with near-mad fervor.
Wen Lan took a deep breath.
Under Orochimaru's gaze, new bone segments began emerging from Wen Lan's shoulder, followed by tendons, muscle, and skin.
In less than a minute, a brand-new arm formed—perfect and intact, as if it had never been severed.
Orochimaru gripped the arm tightly, voice trembling.
"This regeneration speed… it far surpasses even Hashirama cells…"
Wen Lan rotated his newly formed arm and said flatly, "Don't forget our agreement."
"Of course not. Please look forward to the results, Wen Lan-kun."
"What?! One hundred thousand ryō?!
Why don't you just go rob someone?!"
An angry roar echoed through the Ninja Cat Clan's territory.
Granny Cat sat there with a long smoking pipe, surrounded by ninja cats. She took a slow puff and exhaled smoke.
"Too expensive? You think it's expensive? I think it's expensive too," she said calmly.
"And don't forget—you want it finished in three days."
Veins bulged on Wen Lan's forehead.
"Granny Cat, at least be reasonable!
Your clan sells weapons for the Uchiha—fine, you fleece us normally, whatever!
"But the market price for a scabbard is five thousand ryō!
You open with one hundred thousand?!
You really think the Uchiha are pushovers?!
Trying to skin me alive?!"
Granny Cat narrowed her eyes and blew out a smoke ring.
"Market price? Master Wen Lan, don't forget— a scabbard that perfectly fits your chakra blade, finished in three days?
Besides the Ninja Cat Clan, who else in the shinobi world can do that?
So tell me—do you want it or not?"
"Damn it! You're pulling a Hua Qiang Buys Melons on me, aren't you?!"
"Melons?" Granny Cat froze.
"I sell weapons. When did I ever sell melons?"
"This is exactly the same!" Wen Lan gritted his teeth.
"We agreed on ten thousand at first, and now you multiply it tenfold!"
Granny Cat chuckled and tapped her pipe against the stone table.
"Master Wen Lan, cheap goods are everywhere.
If you don't want it, wrap your blade in some scrap cloth.
Just don't blame me when an ordinary scabbard can't handle the edge of your chakra blade."
Wen Lan was seething, breathing hard.
But he was in a hurry to leave Konoha.
In the end, he forced the words out through clenched teeth:
"Fine. One hundred thousand."
Granny Cat smiled in satisfaction and waved for the ninja cats behind her to prepare the scabbard.
Wen Lan pulled out the banknotes with a cold expression, silently engraving this debt into memory—
This money would be repaid one day.
With interest.
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