Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.31 [54]
🕑 Added 2025-01-17 14:03:54 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.31 [54]
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I’d never felt guilt to the point of nausea before. The simple funeral garb lay splayed out across my bed. My throat scratched against itself each time I swallowed and each beat of my heart wracked my body with the force of a hiccough. Any grief or sadness I could feel was nothing in comparison to the guilt. As I pulled the long-sleeved shirt over my head, I took a long moment to process the idea of skipping the funeral.
The moment stretched across my entire journey to the venue. Thankfully, shinobi funerals weren’t an open casket thing. Most shinobi were cremated to prevent grave robbing enemies and I reckoned the burials of jonin and above were empty caskets. In a world where people would exploit your body decades after your death, making that practice as difficult as possible for your enemies made perfect sense.
The funeral venue was an austere courtyard in the Hokage Residence, filled with muted murmurs and faces cast in shadow. The sun hung low, as though it didn’t dare shine too brightly on a day like this. Rows of chairs lined the space, most occupied by people dressed in black or deep blue.
A simple altar stood at the front, where a framed photograph of Lord Third rested on a pedestal. He was smiling in the picture—a warm, grandfatherly smile that felt like a punch to my gut every time I looked at it. I slipped into the back row, keeping my head low. In time, I’d seek out my friends and—once I settled—look for Konohamaru and Asuma.
I wasn’t even that close to Lord Third, years of distance and mistrust saw to that. But in the end, he had come around. The Hokage had changed; he had started acting, and he had started guiding me in ways that I had grown to rely on.
But even a month of teaching shouldn’t have bridged that gap.
Yet, combined with the guilt, it was more painful than anything else I’d experienced; even my parents’ deaths. Despite my mourning them, I’d never truly known—or mourned them. Only what I’d lost and the childhood I’d had to suffer as a consequence.
For now, I didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want anyone to see me. My skin crawled at the thought of being acknowledged by anyone without the stones to care about me until yesterday. Besides, I’d made sure to come late enough that anyone I cared to talk to was way up front.
“Naruto?” Hinata’s quiet voice slipped past the murmurs of the gathered mourners. She nudged her way through the rows of people, followed not by Choji as I’d expected but by Haruto, Nori and Ko.
I looked at them, managing a tight-lipped smile. “Hi.”
“Are you okay? I know you and Lord Third were close,” she asked, still looking as pale as she was yesterday. This time, her attendant was nowhere to be seen, but Hinata still looked like death as far as I was concerned.
“I’m… okay.” Neither she nor the three children had bought my reply, but none of them chose to press any further.
Iruka met us at the front row, giving me a nod and beside him, I saw Fujino. She smiled; it was a tentative thing, but I returned it.
“Naruto,” Iruka said, “I heard Lord Third trained you personally—I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, sensei.” I stopped Fujino from doing the same with a smile. “Thank you as well.”
Choji notified me of his presence with a firm, but gentle clap to my shoulder. He didn’t say anything, nor offer condolences like Fujino and Iruka, but that alone was enough for me. Haruto, Nori, and Ko shifted uncomfortably from beside me. The muttered conversations drifted over discordant and sudden sobbing and sniffles, never loud enough to completely overpower.
The welcoming speech came from Asuma’s brother, the Sarutobi clan head. Like the man himself, it was brief, curt, but otherwise polite. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of his wife and Konohamaru sobbing in his mother’s arms. When it was time for the moment of silence, I looked away, though his sobs managed to reach me from across the hall.
Asuma stepped up to the altar, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his funeral robes. His usual swagger was absent. He glanced at the photo of his father, a bittersweet smile flickering across his face before he turned to the gathered mourners.
“I’ve been told I should say a few words. I’ll be honest—I’ve never been great with speeches, but when you’re the son of Hiruzen Sarutobi, you get used to being thrown into situations where you’re not exactly comfortable. Usually, with him watching from the sidelines, arms crossed, judging how you handle it.” Asuma gave a wry smile and shook his head. “I guess that’s fitting because, well… I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise. I was stubborn and reckless, and I had this genius idea as a teenager that I knew better than my dad about just about everything. I spent more time arguing with him than I ever did listening to him. If he was trying to teach me patience, I probably aged him faster than any enemy ever did.”
A wave of subdued laughter followed. Asuma rubbed the back of his neck, the faint smile on his face fading. “I think… I spent so much of my life trying to get out from under his shadow that I didn’t stop to appreciate what it was like to stand in it. He wasn’t just the Hokage to me. He was the man who taught me how to tie my first headband and somehow managed to juggle being the village’s leader while still showing up when it mattered. At least… when I gave him the chance.”
His voice caught slightly, and he paused, glancing at the photo again. I looked down, wondering what he’d think if knew I’d brought about his father’s death because of my overconfidence.
“But it wasn’t until recently that I started to understand him—what he died for. I used to think he cared about the village more than he cared about his family. That it was just duty or responsibility that kept him going even when… even when our mother died. But he cared about all of us—every single person in this village—because he believed we were his family too. And yeah, it frustrated me. A lot—it still does. But… I think I get it. At least, now, anyway.” His eyes swept across the hall, finding me, Choji and Hinata. “My father wasn’t perfect, and I’m not going to stand here and pretend he was. But in the end… he gave everything for the Leaf. Even his life.”
“Did you know that their relationship was like this?” Choji whispered to me.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “He never told me that—neither of them.”
Asuma stepped down, his head bowed slightly as he returned to his seat, the room heavy with the weight of his words. Kurenai embraced him at the foot of the small staircase and he leaned down, partly slumping over her.
The next speakers were Hiruzen’s old teammates, their voices shaking as they spoke of missions, shared victories, and the quiet leadership he brought to their team. They painted him as a shinobi’s shinobi, a man who led by example, is what they said. Their words were filled with the kind of reverence I’d come to expect for the Hokage, but it felt hollow to me. Not only because I knew of their various plots against him, even if as Danzo’s accomplices, but their speeches were flawless.
I wanted to scream at how perfect they made him sound and how distant from the real man their eulogies felt, but I didn’t.
Then came Danzo. He didn’t walk so much as glide to the front, his cane tapping softly against the stone. His posture was rigid, his expression carefully composed and the moment he started speaking. Before he leaned towards the microphone—just for a moment—his lone brown eyes caught my gaze and my stomach twisted.
“Hiruzen Sarutobi was not just a leader,” Danzo began, his voice like gravel, “but a visionary. A teacher. A man who saw potential where others—myself, even—saw only weakness.” My jaw clenched. Even if he was an old friend of Lord Third’s, he didn’t sound like he was mourning—but who was I to judge him for things I couldn’t see?
“Even in his final moments, he believed in the power of his students,” Danzo continued, “He saw in them the future of this village and that belief was justified. One of his students”—he paused for effect, and once I realised it was not Jiraya he was talking about my heart sank, along with my shoulders—“saved countless lives using none other than Hiruzen’s signature jutsu despite the wrongs done against him by many gathered here today.”
I wanted to shrink into the ground. Heads turned towards me, some subtly, others not. My fists tightened as the nausea from earlier surged back, stronger than ever. He was twisting this—twisting me—to suit his agenda. Whatever it was, I hated being part of it when I’d had to force myself to this funeral.
Danzo finished by praising Hiruzen’s foresight, his wisdom, and his supposed ability to shape the future even beyond the grave. I couldn’t even look at him. My eyes stayed glued to the floor as a rising anger tangled with the guilt already choking me.
And when his speech finally finished, the funeral concluded with a procession. One by one, people walked to the altar, each carrying a single white chrysanthemum to place on the casket.
When my turn came, I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking.
The chrysanthemum felt fragile in my hand. As I approached the casket, my gaze fell on the photograph again. That smile. My throat tightened, and I had to fight the urge just to turn and leave.
I placed the flower on the casket, the stark white petals joining the growing mound. The weight of everything—Lord Third’s death, the role I’d played, the eyes of the village on me—pressed down harder than ever.
For a moment, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the casket's edge.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, so softly that the words barely reached my ears. Then I turned and froze. Sasuke stared at me, a chrysanthemum held lightly in his hand—but the expression on his face stopped me in my tracks. On his face, I didn’t see the usual latent, smouldering anger, nor the burn of competitiveness.
I saw unabashed pity; he opened his mouth as if to speak but seemed to decide against it at the same moment and passed by to place the flower down. Dozens of eyes swept over me. I looked for the only ones that mattered, giving Choji and Hinata a parting nod and walked away with Lord Third’s smile heavy against my back.
My brief peace outside the hall was disturbed by the clacking of a cane against the paved ground.
I opened my eyes and then turned. “...Elder Shimura.”
“Afternoon, Chunin Uzumaki.” He stopped, seeming to feign regret through his brown eye. “I do believe you weren’t supposed to know that until the promotion ceremony. Though some would say it was obvious you would be promoted.”
“While we’re at it, you may as well reveal my fellow promotees,” I replied, half-serious.
Danzo tapped his scarred chin. “Your Akimichi teammate for one, Rock Lee as the second, and Sasuke Uchiha.”
“...Should you be telling me this, sir?”
“I shouldn’t,” he replied, “But you seem to be the trustworthy sort, and as the student of my old friend, I believe you worthy of my trust. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I nodded slowly. “Not that I’m ungrateful for the news—because I’m not—but why talk to me now?”
“First and foremost, to offer condolences—but you are correct. There is another reason I’ve sought you out—your expedient friend saw fit to divulge all she knows in light of her capture. She was quite forthcoming with any information asked of her to the point that heavy interrogation was unnecessary.”
“Haku?” I didn’t need to hide my worry at all, which was good. Danzo saw it and smiled. “What’s going to happen to her?”
“What indeed?” Danzo mused, placing both hands on his cane’s pommel. “In light of her cooperation, I presented her with three options. The first was to become a shinobi of the Leaf. Seeing that she does not exist, any wrongdoings committed by her as a rogue ninja would be void. The second was to marry into one of the village’s clans and secure her bloodline limit into our service.”
“And the third?” I asked, frowning.
“She becomes a retainer of sorts.”
“For who?”
“For whom,” Danzo corrected. “Haku would become your retainer. You came up quite a few times during our conversations, you see. Her loyalty to you was clear enough to me and through you, she is loyal to the Leaf.”
In other words, Danzo was trying to tie me to the village. My lack of love for the Leaf Village had been a source of worry for Lord Third, but he’d resigned himself to it so long as I had a few people I cared for, him included. Danzo didn’t seem too confident in that and, by the looks of it, had cooked up a method of his own.
The issue here was what refusal of that third option would do to Haku. With Lord Third dead, there wasn’t much to stop Danzo from turning her into a weapon of his own.
“What did Haku say to the first option?” I asked, my voice coming out tighter than I’d wanted. Haku was not a topic I was ready to untangle at all.
Least of all because I had no clue what exactly a retainer was in this specific instance.
“To quote the young woman, “I’ve lived a lifetime as the weapon of someone eager to throw me away once he saw no further use for me—I am not eager to live that life again.”
“Can I assure the same for the second option?” Danzo simply nodded in reply. I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought the urge to walk away. “Okay. I understand. But I’d like some time to think this over, if that’s fine with you, Elder Shimura?”
Danzo smiled. “But of course. I believe Jiraiya shall be taking you on a mission soon. But do understand that Haku’s future in the Leaf will depend on your answer. She has ruled out the first two options, which leaves her reliant solely on your goodwill. And I shall expect an answer upon your return. Good day to you—and congratulations on your promotion, Chunin Uzumaki.”
———————————
The days following the funeral were largely uneventful. The Academy hadn’t seen much damage, so the school was reopened the day after the funeral. People were busy repairing homes and shops, and on any given street, it wasn’t strange to see a strange conga line passing various tools to someone precariously balanced on a ladder.
The chunin-rank promotion ceremony wouldn’t be happening until a new Hokage was elected. As for team training, Asuma had asked for a week or two hiatus to mourn on the same day he’d gifted me my trench knives—not that we were in any state for training anyway.
Choji was still braving the after-effects of his chilli pill, and Hinata had been locked away in the Hyuuga compound to recover. That Hiashi Hyuuga had let her out for Lord Third’s funeral was a miracle in and of itself, from what she told me. Granted, nothing was stopping me from leaving my house, but I couldn’t stand the newfound admiration the village held for me.
Danzo’s veiled ultimatum was just a damper on an already terrible week.
Those who’d seen my resurrected mother had pieced together my identity and those who hadn’t would either find out or were suddenly apologetic because I’d proven myself useful to their continued existence. The village’s top brass had remained surprisingly mum about my identity, but they hadn’t cracked down on the rumours either.
Perhaps they’d confirm it once the Fifth Hokage was decided on and were content to let things be for now.
Whatever the case, I couldn’t stay holed up in my apartment forever; Karin was still a stranger in the village—she hadn’t even met anyone I knew besides Team 8 yet and that was under disguise. Worse, I wouldn’t be around to help her ease into the village life because Jiraiya had entered through a window the day before and announced that we’d be heading out on a mission.
The glint of steel flashed through my peripheral vision. I looked up, leaning my head away from the blunt kunai hurtling my way. Sasuke’s house had become a surprising place of sanctuary in recent days. The entire Uchiha district was sectioned off—both literally, it being at the village’s periphery, and otherwise—meaning I got to avoid the villagers without starving myself of human interaction.
Shadow Clones fulfilled the bulk of my tasks; shopping, checking in on friends, and the like. Kiba had lost an eye, but he seemed happy enough with his new eyepatch. Enough that he refused the transplant, anyway. I hadn’t seen Ino or Shikamaru around, but the new deadline would force me to do that soon enough.
Still, I’d wound up in a routine of sorts these days. Wake up, fix me some breakfast, put a shift in at Ichiraku’s under disguise, and then come over to spar and brainstorm with Sasuke for a few hours. He’d mellowed out a little for some reason; probably out of pity towards me for the funeral, but he wasn’t as caustic as usual.
“Keep your focus up,” said Sasuke, baring another kunai. The Sharingan’s pinwheels spun in his eyes and I fought off the pull of his genjutsu once more.
He’d developed a desire to learn disciplines beyond ninjutsu and taijutsu. I was happier for it. During our training sessions, his sense of inferiority towards me over ninjutsu was something I was aware of but couldn’t say much for. Over time, it became the elephant in the room that neither of us wished to talk about.
Rather, anything I could say would only come across as consolatory. Taijutsu-wise, the gap between us had narrowed thanks to his eyes. He’d been focusing on getting his body up to par with his perception, but where skill was concerned, the gap between us was never insurmountable there.
I shook my head, focusing on the moment once more.
The Uchiha Compound bordered quite a large lake, and save for a small jetty, there was nothing but grassland for about five minutes in any direction—making it the perfect place to spar. Water lapped against the wooden posts, flatly underscoring the silence between us.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that flickered as our bodies moved, waiting for the fight to reignite.
Sasuke smirked, spinning the kunai deftly in his hand. I clenched my fists, feeling the surge of chakra course as easily through the chakra-conductive trench knives as they did my limbs, ready to be used—or else, fade away.
He darted forward and the fight was on. I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding his kunai as it slashed through the air where my ribcage had been. The momentum carried him past me, but I spun on my heel, chakra flooding my fist as I brought it down the knuckleduster edge a crushing arc toward his shoulder. He twisted mid-air and I hit the ground instead, sending up a spray of dirt and pulping the earth.
He landed a few feet away with effortless grace and pivoted, trying to sidestep my rush. I feinted left and drove my elbow toward his ribs. He caught it with his forearm, the force of the block reverberating up his arm and sending him back a step.
His Sharingan spun, analysing every twitch of my muscles even as he righted himself. The world tilted and the colours of the lake and grass started to blend. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood, the pain snapping me out of the illusion before it could fully take hold.
But by then, he was stood on the jetty, primed and ready for an attack. I cleared the grassland in a step and landed before him, taking up a ready stance.
“Nice try,” I said, slamming my heel into the ground. The chakra-enhanced stomp sent a tremor racing through the jetty, throwing Sasuke slightly off balance. I used the opening to lunge, my fist driving toward his chest.
He bent at the knees, slipping under my arm and rising with a kunai. I ducked and twisted, smashing his wrist with one hand while the other shot upward, the bladed edge of my trench knives aiming for his jaw. He leaned back, narrowly avoiding the blow, but the movement forced him to release the kunai.
I batted it into the lake with a flick of my wrist.
We broke apart. He smirked again, but there was a bead of sweat running down his temple. “You’re getting better at breaking my genjutsu.”
“Good,” I said, rolling my shoulders and unclenching my hands. My knuckles ached against the chakra metal, but it was a good ache—the kind that told me I was pushing my limits in some way. “Because it’ll force you to get better at it—and that’s what you want, right?”
Sasuke’s smirk deepened, and without warning, he attacked. As his fist came toward me again, I ducked low, letting it graze the top of my head. In the same motion, I slammed my fist into the ground beneath us. The jetty exploded in a shower of wood and water, forcing Sasuke to leap away to avoid the debris.
Using the momentum, I launched myself at him, my chakra propelling me forward like a missile. His Sharingan tracked me, but there was no time for him to dodge—or rather, he wasn’t fast enough yet. My fist collided with his hastily raised forearm, and the force sent him skidding across the grass.
He landed in a crouch, his eyes blazing now, one hand gripping his arm where the impact had left its mark. Twisting my wrist, I caught up with him before he could settle and pressed the bladed edge of my trench knives against his throat.
“You’re not holding back,” he said, almost approvingly.
I held back the urge to point out that I hadn’t used ninjutsu, nor used my chakra enhancement to its fullest, but it was both unnecessary and cruel. I’d gain nothing from stoking his sense of inferiority, especially when our strengths were different.
“You’re getting used to those eyes of yours” I replied, taking a seat in the grass and waiting for him to do the same. “I’ve discovered you’re being promoted, by the way.”
Sasuke snorted. “There’s no way I wouldn’t be. And you too, I’m guessing?”
“Yep,” I replied. “Choji and Rock Lee too.”
“How’d you find out?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Some elder saw fit to tell me seeing that the promotion ceremony won’t be happening until they elect a new Hokage but congratulated me anyway.”
“So, the same time tomorrow?” Sasuke asked, leaning back onto his palms.
“Can’t,” I said. “I’m going on a mission with Jiraiya of the Sannin, apparently.”
Envy—smothered quickly by curiosity—came over his face. “What’s the mission?”
“Dunno. He’ll probably see fit to tell me on the day, based on my guess. Kind of inconvenient, but there’s not much I can do. Plus it’s Jiraiya of the Sannin, you know?” I leaned forward, smiling. “Besides, if it gets me out of this damn village and away from the villagers, then I don’t care what it is.”
“You couldn’t even walk a mile in my shoes before running for the hills,” he said, smirking. “Soon, you’ll also have a fan club.”
I frowned. “I’d rather die.”
“Lord Third’s grandson has started one in the Academy, from what I’ve heard. It’s only downhill once they graduate”
“...Really?”
He nodded, taking a great deal of pleasure in the look on my face. I stood up, wiping the sweat away using my T-shirt. Sasuke wrinkled his nose at the gesture, drawing an amused snort from me.
“I’ll check in once I get back. By the time you officially get promoted, I reckon you’ll have caught the eye of one of the village’s divisions. Capturing all of the traitorous Kazekage’s children has that effect.”
“...Well, there’s something,” he started to say before cutting himself off with a shake of his head.
“What is it?”
“It’s not finalised anyway—never mind.”
I raised my hands. “Either way, I’ll check in when I’m back.”
He gave a parting nod, staring at the destroyed jetty with a wistful look on his face. I grimaced at the wreckage of what was likely one of the treasured sites of his clan turned to wreckage in a spar of all things. Any offer to cover its repairs would probably be shot down by the surly bastard, so I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked away.
———————————
Sending clones out to perform the obligations of friendship on my behalf felt… scummy, kind of. No one except Karin would be able to notice and it was a necessary sacrifice. With all the time I had left in the day, I wanted a bit of time to myself at the very end instead of running about checking in on everyone until sleep forced me into my bed.
Of course, that meant random clone feedback while wandering about, but I hadn’t fallen off a rooftop yet. Choji was chowing down as much food as he could handle in a gauntlet of eating contests and according to another clone, Sasuke’s report of a fan club in my name was true.
Konohamaru had proudly declared that fact upon seeing me and I hadn’t the heart to chastise him because of Lord Third’s death. In the end, if I could be part of what helped him move on with his life, I’d take the existence of a fan club on the chin. Besides, Haruto, Ko, and Nori’s begrudged parts in the enterprise were an amusing enough sight.
The four children had been declared as my ‘direct disciples’, not that I had a clue what that position offered them in the burgeoning club. Even more hilarious was that it was a sanctioned club with a meeting room and everything.
All of that and more became known to me on the way to Karin’s apartment near Hokage Mountain. I wasn’t sure whether her situation had changed in light of Lord Third’s death, but she was more or less cleared of any suspicion as far as I knew.
Whether Danzo would make her a part of his carrot-and-stick approach was another question entirely. Braving the staircase, I knocked on the door and Karin opened a few moments later, her hair slightly damp and a shade darker than I was used to.
She blinked, seeming surprised to see me at all and I smiled. “Why the shock?”
“I… thought you’d take some time to mourn,” she said, slowly, breaking eye contact with a slump of her shoulders.
I sighed—both at her reaction and also the reminder of Lord Third’s death. “Don’t have the option, unfortunately. I’m going on a mission tomorrow.” Karin opened her mouth to speak but instead stepped aside to let me inside in. I shook my head. “I’m here to introduce you to a couple of friends. Seeing that I won’t be around the help you settle in, I thought that’d be the least I could do if I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Uh…” She looked over her shoulder. “No, I’m not doing much. Just give me a moment to get changed.”
“I’ll be out here.”
A couple minutes later, she came out with a long purple skirt and a short-sleeved grey robe of sorts tied together at her waist by a thick purple sash. Karin followed me through the streets. The cool breeze that swept through the village tugged at the ends of her damp hair, but she didn’t complain about being dragged out before it could dry. She didn’t ask questions either, though I could feel her unease in the way her gaze darted around, lingering on passing shinobi or villagers who whispered a little too loudly about me, pointing and staring.
We reached the Hyuuga Compound sooner than I’d anticipated, its towering walls and pristine gates standing as an immovable barrier between us and the quiet world inside. We passed them by without much trouble, but the ones stationed at the Clan Head’s residence weren’t as accepting. They straightened as we approached and their white eyes narrowed on Karin’s presence.
“Hyuuga Hinata,” I said before either of them could bark at her to leave. “She’s a friend. I’m just here to say hi.”
Their gazes flicked between Karin and me, and then back again. One of the guards stepped forward. “You may pass, but she is not allowed in. Lord Hiashi’s orders,” he said curtly.
Karin stiffened beside me, the soft sound of her breath hitching giving away more than I think she wanted to. I glanced at her, her hands tightening around the knot of her sash, then turned back to the guard with a grin I barely had to force. “Not the best, but fine. She’ll wait out here. No big deal.”
The guard’s brow twitched at my casual tone, but he didn’t argue. With a shrug, I motioned for Karin to hang back.
“Don’t wander off,” I said lightly, but I let a bit of seriousness slip into my voice. The Hyuuga were twitchy folk, after all. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. Instead, she nodded, stepping back to lean against the outer wall of the compound.
I couldn’t imagine she was happy at being dragged out of her home to then be denied when I said she’d meet a friend of mine.
“I’ll be here,” she muttered, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Under all her neurotic energy, I could see the beginnings of her acerbic self broiling and merely smiled at her answer. I didn’t like leaving her out here, but short of fighting my way in, I didn’t have much of a choice.
Taking a breath, I turned toward the gate, offering the guards a casual wave as they pushed it open just enough for me to slip through into the courtyard. The servants within went on with the day undisturbed as I edged around a shallow pond. Fish swam around in small circles and I could see the beginnings of a garden at the edge of the diverged paved path to my right.
I’d only been here a handful of times in my life—always with Choji and Shikamaru—but the faded memories of the path to Hinata’s room were serviceable enough. None of the servants stopped me, nor did they pin me down with glares at having taken a wrong turn somewhere. I couldn’t be sure I was going the right way, though. The house’s decor was the same at all turns; not a hint of personalisation radiated off the walls, so for all I knew, I might’ve taken a wrong turn and never realised.
“Naruto?” I stood still at the mention of my name and then looked about to find Shikamaru around a corner I was half-settled on going through.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Visiting Hinata. This is the earliest I could do given everything that’s happened.”
“I went to see Kiba yesterday,” I said. “He seems thrilled with that eyepatch.”
“He looks like Kuromaru—his mother’s ninja hound. Tried to make a joke out of that fact, but then the blasted thing started talking.”
“The dog?”
“Yep. Threatened to bite me if I mocked Kiba’s battle wound again.”
I smiled. “Well, I’d love to catch up, but I’ve someone waiting outside for me who wasn’t let in to see Hinata. But I’ll see you around, okay?”
I took a long stride past him, aware of his eyes at my back but paid no mind to it. I wasn’t sure what I could do besides rub our years-old argument in his face. Telling him I was right and he was wrong wouldn’t give Kiba his eye back.
“Can we talk?” he asked when I was two steps away from Hinata’s closed door. The tone in his voice was… heavy, for lack of a better term, so I stepped away and gestured him down the corridor. Once we were far enough that Hinata overhearing us wouldn’t be an issue, he started to speak. “I… you were right. In the end, peace is fragile. All the crap I didn’t want came right to my doorstep, and I was found wanting.”
I wanted to reply—offer some sort of platitude, if only to ease the hurt radiating off him in waves—but I didn’t.
“Kiba’s eye… if I was stronger, if I’d had more experience leading, if I could extend my shadow just that bit further… he wouldn’t have lost it.” He breathed out a long, exhausted breath. “I’ll have to train, not because I want or like it, but when bad things happen, I don’t want it to be my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “You weren’t the only one who broke down our walls, the massive three-headed snake did. You didn’t kill Lord Third, Orochimaru did. Did you pluck Kiba’s eye out?”
He shook his head. “That's not what I mean. If something like this ever happens again, I never want to think “what if” ever again.”
“Impossible.”
Shikamaru frowned.
“So long as you don’t win, you’ll always regret it and end up wanting to rewrite things. If you don’t want to regret your life, make sure you don’t end up in the position to regret—as much as possible, anyway.” I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy thing. “Want to know how you do that?”
“Training,” he replied, sounding more exhausted than I’d ever heard him. He leaned back, tapping the back of his skull against the wall behind him. “So much of that damn stuff that you’ve squeezed out everything you can and then some?”
“I’m not going to give you a speech like I used to do when we were kids. You probably have beat yourself up more than necessary anyway. But you know what? If you’re going to be responsible for your teammates—’cause those are the facts if you’re the one commanding them—then you’ve got to put in the extra work to make sure they don’t die. That’s what being a leader is.”
Shikamaru started to grumble then, so I gave him a few moments. What I didn’t expect, though, was where the conversation went next. He stood straight, looking me in the eyes with a quiet fury. “You don’t know me for beating around the bush, so I’ll be direct: why did you hide that you were the Nine-Tails Jinchuriki from me?”
“What makes you think I knew?” I asked, keeping my expression neutral despite the guilt pulling at me.
“The training incident with Ino.” He frowned. “Speaking of, I guess that she knew too, right? Thinking back on it, her reaction to everything makes sense, especially her strange obsession with you lately.”
“Her what?”
“Don’t change the topic. Also, the people in the bunker were muttering about you looking a lot like Lord Fourth and using one of his jutsu. Don’t tell me you’re gonna turn around and tell me he’s your father too?”
I grimaced.
“No goddamn way!” Instead of blowing up like I’d expected, Shikamaru laughed. It was a deep, de-stressing kind of sound and when he swallowed the peals bubbling out of him, his expression seemed lighter. “You’re telling me we went to a play about your father’s life and none of us knew?”
“In my defence,” I said, inwardly grateful for his reaction, “Lord Third only told me after my C-rank—my dad’s identity, that is. As for me being a Jinchuriki… well, you know why I didn’t tell you.”
He frowned slightly, a brief flash of bitterness coming over his face. “Do Choji and Hinata know?”
I nodded.
“Well,” He sighed, “I can’t say it wasn’t the smart thing to do. I’m not the sort to blab about things like that… but my laziness can get in the way of a lot. I was never as driven,” he said the word like a curse, “as your or Hinata. Plus I wasn’t on your team, so I can’t be too bitter about—unless you’ve told everyone but me.”
“I did not.”
“...Okay then.” He walked towards me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “But in the future… don’t hide stuff like this from me, alright? I can handle it.”
Despite his aversion to hard work persisting through an invasion, I couldn’t help but re-evaluate my assessment of my childhood friend. I’d written him off as the kind who only learned after touching the metaphorical kettle but never accounted for what I’d do after he came away with a scalded palm.
“Speaking of Ino,” I said, “I’m going on a mission tomorrow and won’t have time to talk to her. I mean to since I’ve got a hazy memory of her wanting to during the battle, but I’ve got so much to do today it’s not even funny. Look, mind telling her I’ll talk to her when I get back?”
“Sure,” he replied. “We were gonna get Kiba checked out of the hospital later today anyway.”
I’d turned to walk away but n idea had come to me. “Also!”
“What is it?”
“I’ve got a new friend outside that I might need you to introduce to all our other friends.” He narrowed his eyes, probably sensing the mountain of work I was about to drop into his lap. “I need to go and restock my supplies for the mission—do me the favour.”
Shikamaru relented with a sharp sag of his shoulders. “Who is it?”
“You’ve met her before. She was under a disguise but her name might be familiar. Suzumi?”
“The sensor?”
I nodded. “Her real name’s Karin. Keep her company while I talk to Hinata, and then when I’m out I’ll try to let her down easy. She won’t be happy given she couldn’t come in and I dragged her out of her apartment just to ditch her…”
“Good for you,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here,” I replied, shoving him away.
Hinata’s door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, the scent of herbal tea and fresh linen drifting in from the hallway. The room was dim and the curtains were drawn to filter the harsh light of day into a softer glow.
She sat upright on the futon, her legs neatly folded beneath her and her hands resting gently in her lap. Her complexion, though still pale, looked healthier than I remembered. Her lavender eyes locked onto mine with a flicker of surprise.
“Naruto,” she said softly, her voice calm but steady. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me, “I figured I should stop by before I head out tomorrow.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “A mission?”
I nodded. “With Jiraiya. Probably won’t be back for a week or so.”
Hinata’s lips parted, and for a brief moment, I thought she might protest. Instead, she tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. “It feels… too soon, after everything that’s happened and it’s certainly not fair.”
“It can’t be helped,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “The village still needs us to keep moving forward, even after an invasion. Besides,” I added with a grin, “I’ve got you guys holding things down here, right?”
Her gaze dropped briefly to her hands, her fingers tightening around the hem of her blanket. “I wish I could’ve done more. During the invasion… I should’ve been out there, helping, instead of being useless and—” She stopped, her breath catching.
Honestly, it sounded like she was moments away from a coughing fit.
“Hey,” I interrupted, stepping closer. “You were hurt. Neji did a number on you during that match, and it’s not like you planned to get taken out of commission.” I crouched down so I was eye-level with her. “Hinata, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Just focus on getting better so we can all start training again. Me, you, Choji—maybe even Shikamaru. He’s snapped to attention—not in the best of circumstances, but hey, it finally happened.”
Her lips curved into a small smile and the tension in her shoulders eased. “Thank you, Naruto.”
I stood, brushing imaginary dust off my cargo pants. “You don’t need to thank me. Just promise you’ll be ready to spar when I get back. I’ve got a feeling Asuma’s training is about to get a lot tougher, so I’ll need to break in my new trench knives.”
“Of course,” she said, the determination in her voice bringing a grin to my face.
As I turned to leave, the sound of footsteps in the hallway drew my attention. The door slid open just as I reached it, and there stood Neji, a small tray balanced in his hands. On it rested a teapot and two delicate cups, along with a small dish of crackers. His expression was as unreadable as ever and his pale eyes flicked between me and Hinata before settling on me with the faintest trace of a frown.
“Neji,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. That I wasn’t collecting my jaw off the ground was honestly a point in my favour.
He didn’t respond, merely nodding in acknowledgement before brushing past me into the room. I glanced back, catching the way his movements softened as he set the tray down beside Hinata. Their voices carried behind me as I stepped into the hallway, a strange mix of formality and burgeoning familiarity that I hadn’t expected.
It wasn’t warm, exactly, but it wasn’t cold either—more like the cautious beginnings of a bridge.
I lingered just long enough to hear Hinata’s quiet laugh before closing the door behind me. It was a rare sound, one I hadn’t heard much before, but it left me with a sense of relief. Whatever had happened between them since the tournament, it seemed like they were starting to find some common ground.
Both because of her, but also Rock Lee.
Making my way back through the compound, I found Shikamaru leaning against the outer wall near the gate, Karin standing a few feet away with her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t look up as I approached, but I could feel the tension radiating off her.
“Sorry about the wait,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Hinata’s doing better, though, so that’s good news.”
Karin shot me a sidelong glance, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And I guess I wasn’t important enough to meet her?”
“It’s not like that. I brought you here to meet her,” I said quickly. “The guards were just being jerks. Anyway, Shikamaru’s here to help out. He’ll introduce you to the others while I finish up my errands for the day.”
Karin’s gaze shifted to Shikamaru, who offered her a lazy wave. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll make sure you’re not bored—I know you were Suzumi, so this won’t be awkward, plus Ino likes you.”
She didn’t look convinced despite her smile, but she didn’t argue either. With a reluctant sigh, she unfolded her arms and took a hesitant step closer to him before whipping her head towards me. “Fine. But you owe me. Ramen—and you’re paying for everything. Firsts, seconds, freaking thirds.”
“I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” I promised, clapping Shikamaru on the shoulder as I passed. “Take care of her, alright?”
He rolled his eyes but nodded.
As I walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder. Karin and Shikamaru were already talking, albeit awkwardly, but it was a start. Hopefully, by the time I returned, she’d have settled in a bit more and made some friends. For now, though, I had a long road ahead—and a lot of work to do before tomorrow.
———————————
I was glad Jiraiya wasn’t walking on eggshells around me. Once the initial wave of grief had settled and logic finally managed to wrangle a hold of me, I realised that there would likely be only one reason why he couldn’t make it in time—and that was the Akatsuki. I’d completely forgotten that Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki would come looking for me at some point today and given we weren’t in the village, I’d constantly had my guard up in every town we passed through.
By midday, we stopped briefly to grab some lunch, but despite the endless entertainment around me and Jiraiya’s nudging to go and blow some money on rigged games, I only went as far as nibbling on some grilled squid.
“What’s your issue, kid?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m just… on edge is all.”
Jiraiya sighed, dramatically putting a hand to his face. “What did I do to get settled with such a dreary kid—I told you, right? We’re on a mission to find the Fifth Hokage. You’ve been acting like we’re due for an ambush for two days straight! Besides, do you know who I am?” He flipped his long mane over his shoulder and squatted down, getting ready to launch into his cringe-worthy introduction.
“I get it, I get it!” Nearly throwing myself over him, I pulled him up and smiled apologetically to the people passing us by in the market. This was the sixth time today that he’d done that. “Act your age, damn it…”
“I’m young at heart,” Jiraiya replied, using the skewer as a makeshift toothpick. “Anyhow, you know the drill, go to every pub, bar, and gambling house and ask if they’ve seen the lady in that picture you’ve got, alright? I’ll meet you at the exit when I’m done. If you finish before me, go and have fun, you old fart of a child.”
I frowned. “I swear, if I find you in a brothel, I’ll… I’ll cut off your hair.”
“...You wouldn’t.” Jiraiya’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“You’ve wasted no less than two hours total across three towns on brothels. If we were sleeping the night, then I wouldn’t care, but it’s not even properly the afternoon!”
He hunched over and his expression twisted into faux sadness. “You’re worse than your mother and father, you—a child sent to punish me for the wrong of my past life.”
At the very least, Jiraiya must have felt at least a little bad, because by the time I’d asked around all the seedy places I could find and arrived at our designated meet-up spot, he was there with a pair of popsicles. The afternoon sun beat over our heads as we walked, and I was doing my best to finish my snack before it melted.
“What’s the next town?” I asked him.
The space between his eyes wrinkled and he hummed in thought. “...Tanzaku Town, I think. Yeah, probably that one.”
“We’ll probably make it there before sunset, right?”
“I think so. But we won’t be going too fast anyway.”
“Why not?” I asked. Since leaving the Leaf, we’d been travelling by way of tree. “I thought we were only walking because of the popsicles.”
“We are,” Jiraiya said, “But I also want to teach you a jutsu. See, I bought these water balloons—” I silence him by creating a Rasengan right there and then. “...Great.”
“You’re about a month and a half too late for that one,” I said. “But I’d like to learn Barrier Ninjutsu if you’re game?”
“...Is this the part where you reveal yourself to be some prodigy?” he asked. “Because if so, I really know how to pick ‘em.”
Calling myself a prodigy felt a bit disingenuous. Sasuke was a prodigy; Neji was a prodigy, but me? I was some random man who had the benefit of not being an actual child despite my biology saying otherwise.
So, I simply shrugged in reply.
“Okay, just so I know where you’re at, do you know anything at all about Barrier Ninjutsu?”
“Nothing at all. I’ve been ninjutsu-focused for the most part.”
“In that case, I’ll have to set the scene for you. See, various degrees of chakra control and shape manipulation are generally marked out by specific exercises.”
I chewed down on the popsicle stick. “What, like tree-walking and water-walking?”
“Those are the first two,” he said, breaking off a piece of iced juice. “There are two more stages: chakra strings and chakra planes.”
Tossing the bare stick high in the air, I watched as a string of chakra so thin I might’ve missed it shot out of his index finger. He pulled the stick back into his hand—though it was slow, and the string was bobbing up and down as he reeled it in.
“Working through non-chakra conductive material is generally a waste of chakra, so don’t do it.” Jiraiya’s eyes wandered to the trench knives at my waist. “Those knives made of chakra metal?”
I nodded.
“Then it’s a perfect place to start. Once you’ve learned to compress and control strings of chakra, start close and slowly ramp up the distance. Using chakra strings on non-conductive material generally isn’t necessary, especially since you want to learn Barrier Ninjutsu.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” He shook his head, “It’s just a necessary step to creating chakra planes.” Sticking out his hand, I watched the steam of chakra leaving his palm lengthen until it formed a perfectly uniform and completely transparent rectangle. “Touch it, it won’t kill you, I promise.”
Gingerly, I stuck out a finger, expecting mild resistance—I couldn’t even break through the barrier. “And this is just a chakra plane?”
“I wouldn’t get too upset,” he said with a roguish smile. “I’m sort of an expert at Barrier Ninjutsu, but yeah, it’s just a chakra plane. It’s a solid surface and you could break it apart by pushing your chakra against it. I also need to constantly maintain it using my chakra too.”
“How do I do this?”
“You don’t. Not until you create a decent chakra string,” he said, laughing. “I don’t think you realise how difficult this is. The surface has to be incredibly thin and without any of the whorls that form when people infuse chakra.”
I stepped away from him and he dispelled the rectangle. “Do you have to constantly maintain Barrier Ninjutsu too?”
“Yes and no,” he replied. “Did the old man ever teach you the significance of hand seals?”
I nodded.
“Then you’ll realise that low-rank barriers can automate some things for you. With the more complex barriers, you’ll need to do more for yourself. It’s why some barriers are impossible to do on your own.”
“...Wait a minute,” I said, smiling wide, “I can use shadow clones to cheat the process!”
Jiraiya stared at me for a moment before breaking out into a booming laugh. “You little bastard, you’re absolutely right!”
I laughed. “Are you telling me no one’s thought about using clones for training?”
“Of course they have,” he said, chuckling. “But I could count the number of people with the reserves to handle being kneecapped while a clone goes off and trains on a single hand. Not to mention the energy imbalance and memory overload issue; most people find out about that and decide it’s not worth the upside.”
“But wasn’t it created as a recon tool?” I asked, frowning. “Memory fragmentation seems like a bit of a downer on that.”
Jiraiya shrugged. “Well, you’re only really using one clone, so even if it’s left up for hours, you’ll probably remember the important bits. The real issue is when you leave more than one clone out. Not only do the memories come back fragmented, but the details overlap.”
“Huh.” Stowing that information away for later, I kicked a pebble and chewed the inside of my cheek. “Say… do you know what a retainer is, by any chance?”
“Where’d this come from?” he asked.
I squinted at the horizon. Sunset was still a few hours away and I couldn’t see anything in the distance that suggested we’d stop.
“Just curious,” I said. “I know that people can be retainers for clans and stuff, but I was reading a book that talked about people becoming retainers for individuals.”
He snorted. “It’s all the same thing at its core. One person is tied to another in exchange for protection or resources. You’re responsible for whatever your retainer does and they can do things on your behalf. And I’m talking punishments because even if you weren’t aware of your retainer doing something illegally, you could probably be held responsible for your negligence.”
“...Right.”
“And that’s not to mention the compensation. If I had a retainer, I’d have to pay ‘em, make sure they’ve got somewhere to live and such. Some people I know pay their retainers a standard wage no matter what amount of work they do.” He looked at me with a curious raise of his brow. “Why? Are you thinking of hiring one?”
I gave a simple shrug at the question.
By the time we reached Tanzaku Town, the sun was sinking low, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. The bustling streets were already teeming with activity as people flooded the markets, gambling halls, and restaurants, their laughter and chatter blending with the occasional clatter of carts and the distant notes of a shamisen.
Despite the vibrant energy of the town, my mind was still chewing on Jiraiya’s earlier explanation about retainers. The idea of having that kind of responsibility over Haku weighed heavily. Could I even handle something like that?
“Hey, kid. Snap out of it,” Jiraiya said, giving me a light whack on the back of the head. “We’re grabbing dinner before finding somewhere to sleep. Let’s see if the local inns are any good.”
“You mean you want to scope out the scene while stuffing your face,” I muttered, earning a laugh from him as we turned into a dimly lit pub. The smell of fried food and alcohol hit me the moment we stepped inside. It wasn’t too crowded yet—people were still likely finishing their games and bets outside—but there was a comfortable hum of conversation.
We grabbed a seat near the bar, and I ordered something light while Jiraiya predictably went all-in on sake and skewers. I was halfway through my meal when the door swung open and in strode Tsunade, accompanied by Shizune and her little pig whose name I couldn’t remember.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Jiraiya muttered, his eyes narrowing in amusement as he took a swig of his sake. “Looks like dinner just got interesting.”
Tsunade, who was clearly a few drinks ahead of him, didn’t notice us at first. She muttered something to Shizune, her words slightly slurred. Her gaze swept over the room, and when her eyes landed on Jiraiya, her expression darkened. “Speak of old faces…”
“Good to see you too, Tsunade,” Jiraiya said, lifting his cup in a mock toast.
She ignored him and sat opposite us. Shizune sighed and gave us an apologetic look before settling in beside her, Tonton hopping up into her lap. “Lord Jiraiya,” she greeted politely, though her tone was weary.
“Well, Tsunade,” Jiraiya began, leaning forward, “I’m guessing you’ve had an interesting day, considering you’re already this deep into the bottle.”
Tsunade’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I’ve seen many old faces today. Didn’t know we were having a reunion.”
I tensed immediately. Jiraiya’s expression shifted, and I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was: Orochimaru. “Figures,” he said. “Well, it’s convenient that we found you here. The higher-ups in the village have made a decision. You’re to be the Fifth Hokage.”
Tsunade’s laughter was sharp and bitter. “And what makes you think I’d agree?”
Jiraiya shrugged, unbothered. “You’re the best choice. The village needs you.”
Tsunade reached into her pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “Come on, Jiraiya. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
Jiraiya grinned. “If you insist.”
The two of them started their game while I sat back and watched. A few minutes later, Tsunade slammed her cards onto the table and groaned.
“Still got it,” he said, leaning back. “And you still suck, princess.”
Tsunade turned to me, narrowing her eyes. “Hey, kid. You ever played cards before?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Good,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Let me give you some advice, then. Don’t bother learning. It’s a waste of time and money.”
“Oh, come on, Tsunade,” Jiraiya said, chuckling. “You’re just mad because you lost.”
She ignored him, focusing on me instead. “You know what’s worse than gambling, kid? Risking your life and losing it. That’s the kind of fool’s game that no one wins. Becoming Hokage… that’s exactly what it is. A fool’s game.”
“Are you calling Sarutobi-sensei a fool?” I asked, feeling the burn of anger beginning to flare in my chest.
I wasn’t sure what I thought of her the entire way here, but seeing the way she dragged around her attendant and wasted away her life without a care for the future was beginning to grind my gears for reasons I couldn’t fathom yet.
Tsunade raised an eyebrow, snorting loudly. “Hear that, Jiraiya? He said “Sensei.” Seems the old man was busy in his last days if he took up a snot-nosed kiddie like you as his student.”
I turned to Jiraiya. “If that is who the higher-ups have decided is most suitable to take my father’s place, I might just weep for the Leaf.”
She shrugged. “My grandfather and granduncle both died trying to stop wars. They wanted to ensure the brutality of the Warring Clans era never happened again. The thing is, they both died in vain. And after everything I’ve lost, you’re asking me to come back and do the same? I thought you knew me well enough to know my answer, Jiraiya.”
“Orders are orders,” Jiraiya said with a resigned sigh. “And quite frankly, I know you’re hurting, but badmouthing the old man was a step too far, princess. What the heck’s wrong with you? You were never this bad before.”
“I wasn’t being asked to take on a suicidal job before,” she replied, looking at me. “No wonder Sarutobi-sensei died; he wasn’t getting any younger and still chose to take the hat after the Fourth died. You’d think he’d realise it was a fool’s game once his wife kicked the bucket, but no.”
I swallowed, hard and clenched my jaw tight enough that I could hear my molars grinding together. “At least he went out better than you. I don’t much care for your issues, but you’re obviously looking for escape—you won’t find that at the bottom of that bottle.”
Tsunade leaned across the table and laughed. I wrinkled my nose at her boozy breath but my glare didn’t lose any of its intensity. I knew what her deal was through and through, but the minute she’d bad-mouthed Lord Third, I didn’t care.
Everything about her rubbed me the wrong way.
“Let’s take this outside, kid. You’ve run your mouth enough, don’t you think?”
I got up, catching the carefully controlled anger on Jiraiya’s face as I did so. “Fine by me, you hag.”
The vein pressing against her forehead only made me smile even as Shizune and the little pig in her lap stiffened at the insult.
- - -
Comments
Rhett Sellers
😂 naruto and tsunade pissing each other off made me laugh
Xardas2995
Agreed! Also the more I think about it, I kinda wonder whether it would be more interesting for Naruto to learn sage mode early. The summoning jutsu itself does not seem to be too difficult and it is only a C rank. Major hurdle seems to be getting summoning contracts and having the chakra to summon lots of or big summons. I wonder what the trick with learning senjutsu is. Wiki says the users "chakra levels" (whatever that means) need to be high and the body has to be strong enough to support the increased power. Does the SI already fulfill these two conditions? Would be funny if the SI also gets a moniker of him being a sage. I do not want to be someone who gets hid with senjutsu + wind chakra enhanced punches by the SI.
Tushar Khanna
An amazing chapter as usual. And I will not really to far on my thoughts about how he handled his grief and his thoughts about the village, because that has done wonderfully above by Xardas. I would like to ask though if Naruto intends to learn the summoning from Jiraiya. I have always felt it was a very underutilized aspect of his techniques which did not really see any of the variety and depth that it could have added to his battles, since Canon Naruto frankly lacked the brains to utilize it strategically or tactically. Additionally, training with Fukasaku and Shima to become a sage ( or even just meditate) would be an excellent opportunity for further self-discovery and realization, which was another criminally underexplored aspect in Naruto. Canon Naruto lacked the maturity for the longest time, and then was under a deadline, to appreciate what being a Sage, in the mythical and mystical sense, can truly mean.
