The Senju's Farewell

The midday sun broke through the clouds as Utsusemi hung a fluffy cotton quilt over the terrace railing to air. So that he could grow up, Itama had been forced to give up even a home as perfect as the Spacetime Tower.

She looked around the three-story villa with mild distaste, though even people in this world considered it a mansion.

To her, it was only a little better than sleeping rough.

There was no climate control, no smart butler, and not even the most basic electricity or water supply.

Yet Itama always said the place was nice. He had lived through the ravages of war.

Being able to sleep in a dry, warm bed and drift off to the soft chirping of autumn insects outside was already a rare luxury.

Hashirama Senju's shadow appeared without warning. "The Kaguya Clan in the west has recently gathered three hundred people at the border. Yesterday, they burned down the granaries of three Senju branch families."

Utsusemi noticed half a confidential letter sticking out of the side pocket of his ninja tool pouch. The man who could cleave mountains now didn't even dare look her in the eye.

His palm rested on the terrace railing, and vines produced by Wood Release grew wildly between his fingers, blossoming with tiny hydrangea flowers.

Hashirama Senju was unwilling to let the younger brother he had lost and regained out of his sight, but he was equally unwilling to let Utsusemi, whose origins were mysterious and who had brought back miracles, leave the clan grounds.

Whenever the setting sun stretched the trees' shadows across the training ground, he would find himself looking toward the figure sitting beneath the swing set.

Utsusemi often gazed into the distance, twirling the ends of her hair around a finger, her starry blue eyes holding stretches of time he could not read.

In his eyes, Utsusemi was a kite tethered by the slender thread that was Itama, liable to break free and disappear at any moment.

The knowledge, objects, and customs she displayed that did not belong to this world kept him tossing and turning late into the night.

Would she return to a place outside time, vanishing like morning dew?

The nightly mystery was as regular as the tides: she always slipped away at the hour of the dog and returned as promised at the hour of the dragon.

If Itama had not kept watch in the empty bedroom every night, and if both of them had not continued to appear on the clan grounds in the morning sun, Tobirama's curiosity might have torn their fragile daily life apart.

The young clan leader kept trying to strengthen the tether on the high-flying kite.

At clan meetings, he overruled the opposition to grant her the status of an honored guest, encouraged the women of the clan to spend time with her, and trained her three times a week.

Whenever Utsusemi healed an injured child, Hashirama would stand in the shadow of a veranda pillar, watching sunlight fall on her slender figure.

Hashirama Senju longed to take her hand, but in the end, he only let hydrangeas climb onto the hem of her skirt.

Utsusemi lowered her eyes. Flower Release Chakra flowed from her fingertips in a ribbon of pale purple light, and wisteria blossoms twined around his hydrangeas.

"Don't go!" Amid the Chakra transmitted through the touching flowers and leaves, the Wood Release Chakra trembled violently.

Like the burning feelings in his chest that he could not voice.

"Take Itama to the Land of Hot Water. Winter is a good time to soak in the hot springs." Tobirama's voice emerged from the shadows of the entryway.

Morning dew still clung to his silver hair, and his crimson eyes stared straight at Utsusemi. "There's an inn called the Star Inn. Its owner is a retired medical-nin."

He put down a yellowed map, its scroll marked with a winding route in vermilion, with hot springs marked all along the way.

There were also secret Senju Tribe safe houses where they could hide.

The Tenseigan swept over the edge of the map and found the coded message Tobirama had hidden: "The Kaguya Clan has allied with the Hagoromo Clan."

Hashirama Senju caught Utsusemi by the wrist. "That boy is only seven... He can't go back onto..."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the rest of the sentence into a trembling breath.

Utsusemi reached out and wrapped her arms around Hashirama, pressing her forehead into the hollow of his shoulder.

She could feel the surging vitality circulating through his Sage Body. It was like holding a little sun.

That warmth was too much of a luxury for her, whose body temperature was low all year round.

She nuzzled his collarbone, all ten fingers climbing up his back.

Don't die... she murmured inwardly, a rusty bitterness rising in her throat.

Would the family and friends I only let past my defenses two months ago leave me so soon?

Hashirama Senju tightened his embrace, only to relax it with restraint when his arms touched her shoulder blades.

When he lowered his head, his breath brushed her reddened ear.

That neck, pale all year round, had finally taken on the color a living person should have.

Tobirama gazed at the two of them embracing and calmly analyzed the situation. "Development of the Flying Thunder God Technique is complete, and your Wood Release is more powerful than Flower Release, big brother."

His gaze caught Utsusemi's trembling fingers, and he added in veiled tactical terms, "At this stage, the option of a strategic retreat remains open."

Itama poked his head out of the kitchen, clutching a glass jar full of chitose ame. He sat quietly by the window, having taken only one piece of the sweets he usually loved most.

The amber candy turned between his fingers, reflecting the faint shadows cast by his eyelashes.

After dinner, Utsusemi and Itama quickly packed their belongings and locked their door early.

On this sleepless night, the Cloud Hotel at the top of the Spacetime Tower became the mysterious site of a pharmaceutical experiment across spacetime.

First, they put antibiotic tablets into a high-speed blender, whose rapidly spinning blades ground the products of modern medicine into powder.

Next, they mixed in organic honey, mixed grains, and brown rice, using an electronic scale to measure out the golden ratio.

The ingredients and powdered medicine went into an ice cream maker, where they were automatically kneaded for an hour until the mixture reached the ideal consistency.

Finally, Itama used a waffle mold to divide it precisely and shape it into easy-to-carry Military Rations Pills.

Every finished pill was carefully calibrated to ensure a standardized weight of 5.3 grams.

The pharmaceutical project entered its second phase.

Ibuprofen tablets, aspirin, and acetaminophen turned into a pale pink mist in an ultrasonic cell disruptor, undergoing a marvelous chemical reaction with beeswax and oatmeal.

Wearing medical gloves, Itama pressed the mixture into 3D-printed molds to make quick-dissolving, sustained-release pills. The outer layer of beeswax could control the rate at which the medicine was released.

The dryer's low hum continued throughout the night as sixty batches of pills were dehydrated and set into shape.

At daybreak, Utsusemi and Itama cut Vietnamese rice paper into individual wrappers, and the Military Rations Pills were rewrapped in arabesque-patterned paper produced by a printer.

When morning light broke through the clouds, the two pushed six medicine chests in front of Tobirama.

After Tobirama's quick inspection, it was found that although these six thousand specially made pills could not replenish Chakra,

their medicinal effects lasted several times as long as those of the clan's medicines.

The ninja who took part in the blind test reported that the pills had a sweet honey scent and the grainy texture of brown rice when swallowed.

This happened to offset the astringency of the medicinal powder, and the pills could also provide enough energy to ease hunger.

Tobirama Senju gently brushed the delicate arabesque pattern on the surface of a pill, the corners of his lips curving upward.

The scene of him intercepting his older brother on the path the previous night appeared before his eyes again.

Hashirama Senju's dark green clan robes had been soaked through with night dew, and his erupting Chakra had shaken the surrounding bamboo leaves loose in a rustling fall.

If he had not acted decisively, ambushing his brother with Flying Thunder God and pinning him in the mud,

the wooden door of Utsusemi's house would probably have been reduced to flying splinters long ago.

Laughter drifted in from outside the window. Hashirama had an arm around Utsusemi as he thanked her affectionately, the savage look he had worn the night before nowhere to be seen.

Itama circled the two like a cheerful tit, loudly telling his older brother how much he missed him.

The pill turned in Tobirama Senju's palm, and in the grooves of its arabesque pattern, the clean fragrance of ink was like the whispers of time.