'Locks' and 'Keys'

Mito listened quietly, her fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of her teacup.

As the princess of the Uzumaki Clan and someone who had married into the Senju family for decades, she had seen far too many secrets and too much darkness.

She had watched Kumoi grow up. He was pure-hearted, and the fear and sincerity in his words were unmistakable to her keen senses.

He was genuinely making preparations for potential threats to the village.

She could not help muttering inwardly, This little fellow is becoming more and more meticulous.

He knew he had discovered some long-standing sores festering beneath the mess left behind by his teacher and wanted to probe them first.

So be it. Hashirama and Tobirama had entrusted the village to him. Though she was born an Uzumaki, after marrying here for so many years, she was already a member of the Senju family.

Only when Konoha thrived could Hashirama's dream receive its greatest consolation.

Besides... his concerns might not be baseless. She had also sensed something of Danzo's recent movements.

A trace of understanding and faint nostalgia flashed through her eyes as she slowly spoke. Her tone was less that of instruction than of sharing an ancient secret:

"Deep within the Uzumaki Clan's archives, there are indeed some... less than honorable records.

"The sort of 'contract' you spoke of was not uncommon during the age of war.

"At its core, it is nothing more than using the caster's powerful chakra as a guide, combining specific runes and vows to construct a precise 'shackle' inside the target's body.

"This shackle is usually linked to speech, memories, or certain specific actions. Once its preset conditions are triggered, it activates a backlash mechanism.

"The forms of backlash vary. They can range from agonizing pain to instant death."

She paused and looked at Nangō Kumoi with profound eyes.

"These techniques are classified as forbidden techniques by every clan because of their absolute control and their trampling of the target's will.

"Casting one requires extremely advanced sealing arts and minute control over life chakra. Removing one... is several times more difficult still.

"Unless one is a supreme expert who thoroughly understands the core structure of the technique, it is difficult even to begin."

She did not ask why Nangō Kumoi had suddenly taken an interest in this, nor did she provide any specific technique names or solutions. Yet the key information she had revealed was already enough:

Such techniques existed. They were powerful, concealed, difficult to undo, and required exceptional expertise.

"However—"

Mito changed the subject, and her tone suddenly carried the calm detachment of someone of her age and status who had seen through the ways of the world, along with the faintest hint of teasing.

"No matter how intricate a lock is, it is still made by people.

"If it is made by people, then it may have a 'keyhole' left behind, or perhaps 'rust.'

"The key lies in finding the right 'locksmith,' or... ensuring that the lockmaker cannot use one of his favorite 'cores' from the very beginning."

That was a remarkably skillful way of putting it. She had implied that the possibility of breaking it lay with top-tier experts such as herself.

She had also pointed out that prevention was more important than breaking it afterward—certain people could be prevented from smoothly casting such techniques at the source, by controlling relevant resources, knowledge, or personnel.

Nangō Kumoi understood at once and said solemnly:

"Thank you for your guidance, Aunt Mito.

"Kumoi understands.

"If I truly encounter problems involving such ancient 'locks' in the future, I fear I will have to trouble you, this great 'locksmith,' for help."

Mito nodded slightly, tacitly granting both his subtle request and her support.

With the important matter settled through mutual understanding, the atmosphere relaxed.

Just then, the tea room's sliding door was flung open with a loud crash. Tsunade burst in with sweat-dampened blond hair, still clutching several practice shuriken in her hand.

"Grandma! I finished my five hundred basic throws today! Huh? Uncle Kumoi!"

When she saw Nangō Kumoi, her eyes lit up. Then she sniffed.

"I smell snacks!"

"Tsunade, manners."

Mito scolded her helplessly, though there was little reproach in her eyes.

"Hehe."

Tsunade stuck out her tongue and properly bowed, but her gaze was already glued to the snack box.

She looked to be in good spirits. Though a faint redness still lingered around her eyes, most of her lively, energetic vigor had returned.

Nangō Kumoi smiled and handed her the snacks and stationery.

"These are for you, a gift for starting school.

"Study hard at school, listen to Teacher Hiruzen, and have fun with your classmates too."

"Thank you, Uncle!"

Tsunade cheered as she accepted them. She eagerly opened the snack box, grabbed a piece, and stuffed it into her mouth before speaking indistinctly.

"Don't worry!

"I'll definitely be the best student!

"Someday, I'll become a Hokage as amazing as Grandpa and Great-Uncle!... Well, at the very least, I'll be better than that idiot Jiraiya!"

She waved her tiny fist, her eyes filled with anticipation for her new life and an unyielding fighting spirit.

As for gambling?

Well, that was just a "little bit of entertainment" during breaks.

There was no way she would tell the adults that she had already used chakra to control dice and won all the pocket money from several nearby children.

Watching little Tsunade regain her sparkle, Nangō Kumoi and Mito exchanged smiles, both feeling somewhat sentimental.

After chatting a little longer and offering Tsunade some encouragement, Nangō Kumoi rose to take his leave.

As he left the Senju Ancestral Home, his steps were light.

He now had a direction for dealing with sealing arts, and Tsunade had emerged from her gloom as well.

With the sunlight shining on him, he felt that he had resolved a potential major problem and gained greater confidence in his plans for the future.

The next step was to carefully consider how to prepare a few special "locks" and "keys" in advance for the Root division that Senior Brother Danzo was planning.

The setting sun had begun to draw in its last rays, dyeing the horizon a warm orange-red.

Nangō Kumoi glanced at the sky, then touched his somewhat empty stomach and decided not to bother returning to his residence.

"Perfect. I'll go see how Ichiraku Ramen tastes for dinner."

He turned and headed toward that familiar little street.

As soon as he arrived at the ramen shop's entrance, he saw a familiar figure standing beneath the signboard, seemingly hesitating as well.

Hearing his footsteps, the man turned around. It was Hiruzen Sarutobi.

"Senior Brother Hiruzen?"

Nangō Kumoi was somewhat surprised, then smiled.

"What a coincidence. You came for ramen too?"

Hiruzen Sarutobi was also taken aback when he saw him, then revealed a gentle smile.

"Kumoi? Yes, I just finished dealing with the last batch of documents.

"Biwako isn't home today, and I was too lazy to cook when I got back, so I stopped by on the way.

"I was just wondering what this place's 'Charity Ramen' was all about.

"What about you? Were you busy this late too?"

"I just came from Aunt Mito's place, so I passed by on the way."

Nangō Kumoi lifted the curtain.

"Let's go together, Senior Brother.

"My treat, as thanks for all your hard work these past few days."

"How could I let you do that? I should be treating you."

Hiruzen hurriedly followed him.