Growing closer to Uchiha Ruri

Konoha Year Seven, spring.

The spring chill was nearly over.

On the seventh day of Elder Xuan's coma following his grave injuries, the atmosphere in the Uchiha Clan Compound was taut as a bowstring. Yinglang's assumption of acting authority had been provisionally settled, but everyone knew the undercurrents had not subsided at all. Yuanguang's faction had been held in check, yet their resentment could practically be smelled streets away.

Yinglang had barely stopped moving these past few days. By day, he had to deal with the elders and their differing agendas in the Meeting Hall; by night, he had to clear the backlog of clan affairs-punishments, clan rules, external communications, everything Elder Xuan normally managed now rested on his shoulders. He knew perfectly well that his seat as "acting" leader was far from secure.

That night, by the time he finished the last scroll concerning border patrol deployments, the watchman's clapper outside had already sounded the third watch. Yinglang rubbed his throbbing temples and rose to head for the secret chamber in the rear courtyard where Elder Xuan was recovering.

A lamp was still burning in the tea room outside the chamber. When he pushed open the door, he saw Liuli kneeling before the tea kettle, staring absently at the dancing flames. Firelight illuminated her pale face and the faint dark circles beneath her eyes. At the sound, she looked up. Seeing Yinglang, she gave an almost imperceptible nod before lowering her eyes again.

"Still awake, Liuli?" Yinglang sat down across from her. The water in the kettle murmured faintly, just short of boiling.

"Father might wake during the night," Liuli said hoarsely, adding a scoop of charcoal. "I'm keeping watch."

Yinglang said nothing. He took the fire tongs from her hand and nudged several fresh pieces of charcoal into the stove. They sat quietly, with only the occasional crackle of charcoal breaking the silence. The bitter scent of medicinal herbs mingled with the smell of the fire, hanging heavy in the air.

After a long while, Liuli suddenly spoke, her voice as soft as a sigh. "Yinglang."

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry."

Yinglang's hand paused over the charcoal, and he looked up at her.

Liuli kept her head lowered, her fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric over her knees until her knuckles paled. "If I'd been strong enough to go with Father, or... or noticed something was wrong sooner, perhaps Father wouldn't have..."

She could not finish. Her voice caught, and her shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly.

Yinglang set down the tongs. Firelight flickered across his face as he watched the girl before him, usually so cool and distant, yet now looking so frail and helpless. Something stirred gently within him.

"Liuli," he said calmly, "have you forgotten that we're husband and wife?"

Liuli jerked her head up, staring at him blankly, the rims of her eyes a little red.

"We're family. There's no need to treat me like an outsider," Yinglang continued. There was no particular sentiment in his tone, as though he were stating the simplest of facts. "Elder Xuan is your father, and he's my elder too. You're not the only one who should worry and do everything they can when something happens to him. Since I joined this family and took this on, it's my responsibility. What are you apologizing to me for?"

He paused, watching the complicated emotions churning in Liuli's eyes, then added, "If anything, I should be thanking you. You've put plenty of effort into everything lately, inside and outside the household-the clan's miscellaneous affairs and Elder Xuan's care."

Liuli's lips moved as though she wanted to say something. In the end, she merely turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. The tips of her ears quietly reddened.

Yinglang said no more. He rose, walked to a low cabinet, took out two tea bowls, spooned in some tea leaves, and poured in hot water just beginning to form crab-eye bubbles. The fragrance of tea rose with the steam, diluting the medicinal smell a little.

He pushed one bowl toward Liuli and cradled the other, sipping slowly. As the warm tea slid down his throat, some of the exhaustion of the past several days seemed to wash away.

"Oh, right." As though suddenly remembering something, Yinglang set down his bowl, took a small porcelain bottle from inside his robes, and handed it to Liuli. "Keep this."

Liuli accepted it. The porcelain felt smooth and warm against her fingers. She pulled out the cork, and an extremely faint, indescribably fresh scent of plants drifted out, refreshing her senses. Inside was a dark brown pill the size of a longan.

"What is this...?"

"A Fake Immortality Pill," Yinglang said casually. "I picked it up with that Dragon-Slaying Breathing Technique manual beside that ratty hide scroll back then. The hide mentioned that this medicine could keep someone alive. If taken when gravely injured and near death, it could probably extend their life by three to five years. I haven't tested its actual effects, but it's just been sitting there anyway. With Elder Xuan in his current condition... have a medical ninja you trust examine it. If they think it's usable, give it to him."

Liuli's grip on the bottle abruptly tightened, her knuckles whitening. She snapped her head up and stared at Yinglang, her voice trembling. "Something... something this precious! What about you? Doesn't every move of that Dragon-Slaying Breathing Technique you practice shorten your life? You should keep this medicine for yourself!"

She remembered the terrifying sight of Yinglang shattering stone barehanded in the Meeting Hall, then how he had spent these days handling clan affairs and pressure from every side with almost no sleep or rest. He was not even six, yet he had to shoulder so much. For him, medicine that extended his lifespan might mean several more years to live!

Seeing the clear anxiety and concern in her eyes, Yinglang felt that soft place inside him gently touched again. He smiled, the smile carrying a little of the childishness appropriate to his age, mixed with a composure far beyond it.

"I'm still young," he said lightly. "Losing a few years won't kill me anytime soon. Taking this medicine would only give me another three to five years. That would be a waste. Elder Xuan is one of the Uchiha's pillars. If he can recover sooner, even keeping him going for one more year would be worth more to the clan and to us than those three to five years of mine."

He paused, looking into Liuli's eyes, and said earnestly, "Keep it. What if... it proves useful?"

Liuli clutched the bottle, her fingertips trembling slightly. She looked at Yinglang's calm face. In those clear black-and-white eyes, there was no calculation, no weighing of interests, only an openness that almost seemed to say this was simply how things should be.

She suddenly remembered something her mother had said long ago, when she was still alive-in this world, other than close blood relatives, only someone who truly held you in their heart would give up something that could save their life.

It was as though a corner of some frozen place within her quietly melted beneath the warmth of the porcelain bottle and the plain words of the person before her.

"Yinglang..." Her voice choked slightly. She lowered her head, and a droplet suddenly struck the back of her hand, splashing into a small dark patch.

Yinglang said nothing. He merely picked up the tongs and stirred the charcoal again. Sparks flew up, flickering.

Only after a long while did Liuli steady her voice. Holding the bottle tightly in her palm, she whispered, "Thank you."

"I told you, we're family." Yinglang did not look up.

The night deepened. Outside, the faint footsteps of clansmen on night patrol passed by and soon faded. From the direction of the secret chamber came the indistinct whispers of medical ninja changing shifts.

Liuli carefully tucked the bottle inside her robes, close to her body. It felt as though she were holding a little flame, warmth spreading from her chest. Watching Yinglang's profile in the firelight, she suddenly asked softly, "Aren't you tired?"

Yinglang froze briefly and turned toward her, then chuckled. "Not too bad. It just takes a bit of thinking." He pointed at his temple. "Before, all I thought about was how to train and get stronger. Now I have to figure out relationships, balances of power... It's much more troublesome than training."

He spoke casually, but Liuli could hear the hardship behind his words. A child not yet six had to keep those crafty old foxes in the clan under control while facing pressure from outside...

"From now on," Liuli hesitated, but spoke anyway, "if there are any minor clan affairs I can help with, just ask. I've read quite a few of the documents Father used to handle."

Yinglang's eyes lit up. "That would be great. Some of those old accounts give me a headache. With your help, I could save myself a lot of trouble."

"Mm," Liuli answered softly. The corners of her mouth curved almost imperceptibly before she pressed them flat again.

They sat for about another quarter of an hour, until a medical ninja emerged from the secret chamber and quietly told them Elder Xuan's condition was stable for the moment, and there should be no trouble tonight.

"Go get some rest," Yinglang told Liuli. "I'll keep watch here. There's plenty to do tomorrow."

Liuli looked at his face, which also showed signs of fatigue, and shook her head. "You rest. You still have to deal with the Elders' Council tomorrow."

They looked at each other. Neither moved.

In the end, Yinglang compromised first. "Then... let's keep watch together. There are only a few hours left to sleep anyway."

Liuli did not object again. She rose and went into the inner room to fetch a thin blanket, handed one to Yinglang, then wrapped herself in another and sat against the wall on the other side of the tea room.

The fire dwindled, and the tea room grew dimmer. Only their breathing and the occasional crackle of charcoal mingled in the silent spring night.

Liuli leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, but felt little desire to sleep. She was keenly aware of the porcelain bottle inside her robes, and his words, "We're family. There's no need to treat me like an outsider," echoed in her ears. Quietly opening her eyes, she looked across the room.

Yinglang was wrapped in his blanket too, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed. His breathing was even, as though he had fallen asleep. The last glow of the fire illuminated his profile, still childish, yet already beginning to show definition.

This child, her "husband" in name but in reality more like a "little brother" who needed her care, had grown so much without her knowing when it had happened. Enough to shatter stone barehanded, enough to intimidate elders, enough... to give her father lifesaving medicine without hesitation.

The warmth in that thawed corner of her heart seemed to grow stronger. An unfamiliar feeling, mingling gratitude, trust, tender concern, and some faint stirring, quietly took root.

She closed her eyes again and wrapped the blanket a little tighter around herself.

The night was still long.

But somehow, it no longer seemed so cold.

Early the next morning, Yinglang woke just as dawn was breaking. Moving quietly, he rose, folded his blanket, and glanced across the room. Liuli was curled up in her blanket, sound asleep, though her brows were slightly furrowed. Perhaps even her dreams were uneasy.

He did not wake her. Slipping quietly out of the tea room, he washed briefly, changed into a neat set of dark blue clan clothes, and fastened the Qi Family Saber at his waist. He walked into the courtyard and drew a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

A new day, new troubles.

Still, they somehow seemed a little easier to bear.

He loosened his wrists and ankles. Within him, dragon essence as vast as an ocean circulated slowly, nourishing his limbs and every part of his body. The layer of pure, condensed "jonin-level" chakra he displayed outwardly also flowed steadily.

What did being a jonin mean in Konoha?

It meant leaving the ranks of "ordinary ninja" behind to become one of the village's true elite fighters and core pillars. A jonin could carry out an S-rank mission independently, was qualified to lead a squad, and could influence the course of a local battle. Within a clan, jonin strength was the hard currency of authority. Take Tetsu Uchiha, for example: as an elite chunin, he could train the children of the Elite Class into complete obedience, but somewhere like the Elders' Council, he was not even qualified to enter and speak.

And what Yinglang currently displayed to others was precisely the chakra level of such an "ordinary jonin." At his age, it was shocking enough to explain why he could keep everyone in line. Yet it was not so outrageous that certain people would be too eager to eliminate him at any cost.

After all, in the eyes of those at the top, an "ordinary jonin" prodigy who had gained strength quickly through a lifespan-shortening forbidden technique and might have exhausted his potential posed an entirely different level of threat from an unfathomable "monster" with limitless prospects.

His true confidence had never come from this feigned jonin strength, but from his Kage-level physique tempered by dragon essence, the Nine Dragon-Slaying Forms he had long since mastered completely, and the trump cards in his system that no one knew about.

"Young Master Yinglang." A steady voice sounded outside the courtyard gate.

It was Uchiha Lei. His injuries had improved somewhat, but his face remained pale. He stood respectfully outside the gate. "Elder Yan and Elder Wen have already arrived at the Elders' Council. Elder Yuanguang has sent word that he is ill and has not come. Also... a message came from the Hokage Office. Lord Tobirama would like you to stop by when you have time."

A cold curve lifted the corner of Yinglang's mouth.

Finally.

"Understood," he answered, stepping outside. Morning light fell across his straight back, and the hilt of the Qi Family Saber gleamed with the cold, hard color of iron.

The road ahead was long.

But he was not walking it alone.