“What does ‘improper intentions’ mean?” The moment they stepped out of the flower shop, Tōru suddenly asked the question.
He was so confused that the snowflakes swirling around him almost seemed to form tiny, imperceptible question marks.
Uchiha Mikoto stopped and looked at him curiously.
“Why are you asking about that?” “That girl named Ino told me not to have any improper intentions toward her.
She said she only likes Sasuke, and that even if I look exactly like him, I still don’t have a chance.” Tōru looked completely innocent.
“But I don’t understand why she would say that.” Mikoto let out a long sigh and said helplessly: “Tōru, you must have said something again that could easily be misunderstood.” Apparently, letting Tōru spend time alone with strangers— Even if they were only children— was still somewhat reckless.
[How did he ever manage to become friends with all those children in the clan?] Mikoto couldn’t figure it out at all.
“I wanted to ask her for a strand of hair.” Tōru thought for a moment before adding: “But she seemed very unwilling.” [Of course.] Mikoto was both amused and exasperated.
This was exactly the sort of thing only Tōru could do.
“Then can you tell Mommy why you wanted to do that?” “Because I want to collect red or yellow hair.” Tōru counted on his fingers as he recalled the other Hashira who still needed to be revived.
“Pink or green hair might also be useful.” [You still haven’t explained why you need it!] Mikoto complained helplessly inwardly, but patiently lectured him aloud: “Tōru, things like hair are very personal.
Usually, only extremely close friends would ask each other for something like that.” “Asking someone you’ve only just met, especially a girl you’ve only just met, for a strand of her hair is very rude and can easily be misunderstood.” “If you were an adult, the clan might even drag you to the Military Police Force.” [Back in the old days, hair was often used to make tokens of affection.] [I’ve heard that the shrine maidens of the Land of Demons even possess sorcery that can make the owner of a strand of hair fall in love with anyone…] Unconsciously, Mikoto’s thoughts drifted back into the distant past.
When she had first gotten married, her old friend Uzumaki Kushina had once told her that Jiraiya of the Legendary Sannin had also asked Tsunade-sama for a strand of her hair.
He had apparently intended to take it to a shrine maiden of the Land of Demons and have a curse placed upon it.
When the matter was exposed, Tsunade had beaten him unconscious and broken four of his ribs.
Come to think of it…
The Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, and Kushina were a couple whose hair colors also happened to be one red and one yellow.
“But she gave me something to drink.” Tōru’s words pulled Mikoto back to reality.
“So we’re already friends, aren’t we?” Based on Tōru’s limited social experience, if a stranger offered him food or drink, it should mean they were trying to become closer— Just as he himself did.
“Being ordinary friends isn’t enough.” [Besides, she was probably just being polite…] Mikoto raised one finger for emphasis.
“If the other person is a girl, you should only ask for something like her hair once you’re boyfriend and girlfriend, or even engaged.” “But if it’s a boy, it should be much easier.
Boys generally won’t care about the deeper meaning behind something like that…” “Boys are easier?” Tōru nodded.
He immediately absorbed his mother’s advice and refined his objective: Find a red-haired or yellow-haired male, obtain some of his hair, and use it as the summoning material for Kyojuro Rengoku.
Suddenly, he remembered the blond-haired child he had seen in the forest the previous time—the boy who had been beaten by three older children while protecting a girl with the Byakugan.
That child’s hair was somewhat dull, but its color was actually closer to Rengoku’s natural hair than Yamanaka Ino’s.
It was probably only lacking its luster because of malnutrition.
Moreover, that child’s recovery ability was extremely impressive.
Perhaps his genetic material would be more suitable as the summoning medium for Kyojuro Rengoku.
After all, among the Hashira, the Flame Hashira’s physique had always been second only to Gyomei Himejima’s.
If Rengoku became even stronger after being revived, he would surely be delighted.
Most importantly, the child’s willingness to protect the “weak” in a shinobi world that was even more ruthless than the world of demons reminded Tōru strongly of Rengoku.
Unfortunately, Tōru hadn’t seen him anywhere in the village since that day.
[Could he have already left Konoha?] Tōru shook his head regretfully.
At that moment, Mikoto noticed that Tōru was carrying a paper bag in his left hand—something he hadn’t had when they entered the flower shop.
“What’s that?” “The girl named Ino gave it to me.
She said I should give it to Sasuke.” Tōru shook the paper bag lightly.
“A New Year’s gift?” Mikoto’s mind immediately filled with innocent, romantic possibilities.
“Can Mommy take a look?” Tōru thought about it for a moment before nodding.
The bag already contained something for his mother anyway.
Mikoto took it curiously and gently opened it.
At the top lay six daisies of different colors.
Hidden beneath them was a small envelope with the childish words “For Sasuke” written on it.
“I won’t read the letter.
I wonder if Sasuke will get embarrassed.” A smile appeared on her face as she shifted her attention to the six daisies.
The flowers were small and delicate.
Each had clearly been carefully cultivated and trimmed.
Their colors and shapes were beautiful even against the snowy backdrop, and they gave off a faint, elegant fragrance.
Someone had clearly put a great deal of effort into preparing them.
“Children these days really mature early.” She muttered under her breath.
“I remember the language of daisies is supposed to be ‘pure unrequited love.'” [It’s a shame Sasuke probably doesn’t care about flowers.
She may have gone to all this trouble for nothing.] Mikoto continued searching through the bag.
At the very bottom, she noticed another separately wrapped plant.
It was a Kalanchoe.
“Tōru, did Ino give this to Sasuke too?” Mikoto took out the Kalanchoe, her expression becoming slightly strange.
As its name and symbolism suggested, Kalanchoe represented health and longevity.
It was generally given to the elderly or to someone who was ill.
“No.” Tōru answered seriously.
“Didn’t you tell me earlier to choose a flower for you?” When Tōru had been choosing the flowers, he had asked Yamanaka Ino: “If I want the person receiving the flower to live a long, peaceful, happy, and healthy life, which flower should I choose?” “Kalanchoe, of course!
But the Konoha Hospital sells even more of them than my family does.” “If you’re willing to help me carry this package to Sasuke, I’ll give you the best Kalanchoe in the shop.” That had been Yamanaka Ino’s answer.
Her confidence in her knowledge of flowers had influenced Tōru’s judgment, and he had immediately settled on the choice.
If only he had mentioned that the flower was for his mother, Ino probably wouldn’t have chosen a flower with such an obvious association with age.
Looking at Mikoto, who appeared to have frozen solid in the middle of the snowstorm, Tōru asked uncertainly: “What’s wrong, Mother?
Don’t you like it?” “…” Mikoto gave him a relieved smile, tied the paper bag back up, and returned it to him.
This was the first time Tōru had specifically chosen a gift for her rather than giving her something incidentally.
She could feel the love and blessing that this little son had never been able to express in words.
Her heart was already completely satisfied.
[But what am I going to do if Tōru continues to lack common sense like this?] “I love it.” “But Daddy is older than me.
This flower might suit him better.” “Can I give Tōru’s gift to Daddy instead?
He’ll surely be very happy when he learns you gave it to him.” “Do whatever you think is best.” Tōru nodded, only half understanding.
He had no idea what he was about to hear.
“But if the flower goes to Daddy, then Mommy doesn’t have anything?” Mikoto leaned down with a sly smile.
Her hair fluttered in the wind and snow before Tōru’s eyes, gradually overlapping with the image of his older sister from his previous life.
“Can I ask Tōru for a special gift directly, then?” “One that you can’t take back once you’ve agreed?” “…” This time, Tōru fell silent.
A dark shadow seemed to appear over his forehead as he took two steps backward.
He was worried that his mother might rub her cheek against his face again like she had earlier.
That would be far too embarrassing.
“Oh?
Does that mean you’re refusing?” Mikoto once again put on a wounded, sorrowful expression.
If Itachi or Sasuke had seen her, they would probably have been astonished.
But the old trick worked just as well as before.
Uchiha Tōru froze in place like a porcelain doll left out in the snow.
Among the nine Hashira, he was one of the quietest.
But he was also one of the softest-hearted.
If any other Hashira had encountered Nezuko after she became a demon, she would never have survived.
If Tōru could be this compassionate toward a stranger, it was easy to imagine how much more he cared about those closest to him.
Seeing that his mother seemed disappointed, he immediately said: “Then go ahead.” “Then you’ve agreed, okay?” Mikoto’s expression changed instantly.
She stared into Tōru’s eyes.
Her features suddenly became extraordinarily gentle and affectionate, with even a hint of pleading.
“Then, Tōru…
I want you to call me ‘Mom’ just like Sasuke and Itachi do.” “Is that okay?” The word “Mom” had been one of Uchiha Mikoto’s deepest worries.
One day, not long after Tōru was born, he suddenly learned how to speak.
At the time, the couple had been delighted.
They thought they had another naturally gifted child on their hands.
But unlike the “Mom” and “Dad” that Mikoto had always taught him and Sasuke to say, Tōru’s very first words for his parents had been the distant and ceremonious: “Mother.” “Father.” In the Hyūga Clan, which was governed according to a strict hierarchical clan structure, such forms of address might have been perfectly normal.
But in the Uchiha household, which revolved around the family unit and placed great importance on familial bonds, those words were simply too cold and distant.
Both Fugaku and Mikoto could feel that the child seemed to be deliberately maintaining a distance from them.
As he grew older, the difference between the way Tōru treated them and the way Sasuke treated them became even more obvious.
He seemed to place himself at the lowest position in the household.
Without saying a word, he would suddenly start doing housework, yet he never asked his parents or older brother for anything.
He didn’t even seem to care about receiving praise.
Whenever they bought him new clothes, if something differed from Sasuke’s clothes, he would simply give it to Sasuke.
His New Year’s gift money was much the same.
Perhaps Tōru himself didn’t think there was anything wrong with this.
He sincerely believed that this was simply his way of repaying Fugaku and Mikoto for giving him life.
But Mikoto only felt defeated.
Why did this child always treat them as though he were an outsider living under someone else’s roof?
Whenever Tōru respectfully called her “Mother,” she didn’t feel respected.
Instead, her heart ached.
She couldn’t help wondering whether she had done something wrong when he was younger, causing him to believe that he was like one of those illegitimate children in old stories who were treated as household servants.
It wasn’t until Itachi noticed her distress that he sought out Tōru himself.
He insisted that Tōru remove the honorific “Lord” from his forms of address.
Thus, the still somewhat stiff “Father” and “Mother” replaced “Father, My Lord” and “Mother, My Lady.” Yet the fundamental nature of Tōru’s behavior remained unchanged.
He continued finding ways to distinguish himself from his two brothers.
Perhaps other people would interpret Tōru’s occasional statement, “I’m different from Sasuke,” as a childish boast that he considered himself more mature.
But as his mother, Mikoto knew there was much more behind those words.
Sometimes, when Tōru lowered his head and said them, Mikoto almost imagined she heard another sentence entirely.
“I’m not really part of your family.” The thought was absurd.
Yet it made Mikoto feel as though her heart were breaking.
That was the real reason she had chosen to leave the household and return to serving as a team-leading Jōnin.
She was afraid to face Tōru alone.
It wasn’t until after Tōru and Sasuke’s fifth birthday that things finally began to change.
The most obvious change was this— Tōru became willing to grow closer to his family.
Whenever Itachi wasn’t on a mission, the three brothers stuck together like conjoined triplets.
They even slept in the same room at night.
Fugaku often complained that it wasn’t good for the children’s development, but he seemed secretly pleased by it.
When the three were together, Tōru still tended to sit a little farther away, leaving more space for Itachi and Sasuke.
But that was still genuine progress.
Physical closeness often meant emotional closeness as well.
Several months had now passed.
Sasuke no longer became upset whenever Tōru casually said something strange, because he knew that his interpretation was almost certainly different from what Tōru had actually meant.
What truly delighted Mikoto happened only a few days ago.
Itachi had gone on a mission, while Sasuke had gone to deliver something to their maternal grandfather.
Tōru had actually prepared lunch and, for the first time, personally delivered it to Fugaku at the Military Police Force headquarters.
According to the equally surprised Fugaku, Tōru had stayed in his office for the entire afternoon, occasionally asking him to cast Genjutsu.
In reality, Tōru had simply been farming Moon Breathing analysis progress.
Even though Tōru hadn’t said much, it was an enormous improvement over the troubled child he had once been.
That event had finally loosened one of the knots in Mikoto’s heart.
Tōru’s relationship with every other member of the family had clearly improved.
There was no reason she should be the exception.
She had been waiting far too long to hear Tōru call her “Mom.” So, taking advantage of the holiday and Tōru’s gift, she decided to make one more attempt.
Under the weight of her hopeful gaze, Tōru felt as though he were being roasted over a fire.
For the first time, an emotion other than his usual calmness or confusion appeared on his face.
Fear.
Tōru’s face turned deathly pale.
The corners of his mouth trembled.
He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out.
It was as though he had suddenly lost the ability to speak.
He didn’t want to disappoint Mikoto.
But he couldn’t bring himself to call her by such an intimate name without reservation.
For these past several years, he had only been able to think of himself as an adopted son.
To him, “Mother” was already the closest form of address he had the right to use.
Because in his heart, he was still Tomioka Tōru.
He was a thief who had taken away the chance for her real son to live.
What right did he have to address her so intimately?
Mikoto saw his helpless expression.
She had never seen Tōru look like this before.
Worried that she might trigger another evolution of his eyes, she immediately stepped back and forced a smile.
“I was only joking, Tōru.
You can call me whatever you like.” “It’s getting late.
Let’s finish our shopping and go home, okay?” With that, she quickly turned around.
From behind, Tōru saw his mother raise her right arm and wipe it across her face.
His heart felt as though it had been plunged into freezing water.
Every cell in his body seemed to ache.
Then the voice in his mind suddenly spoke.
[If your soul had not reincarnated after your death, Uchiha Tōru would never have existed.
This is your body.] The words were like a ray of brilliant light.
With a single flash, they pierced through the clouds covering Tōru’s mind.
[…Is that really true?] He asked inwardly.
[Your essence is the same as that of the Hashira who will soon be revived.
The only difference is that you were born.
Otherwise, why would your name still be Tōru?] The voice remained as cold and emotionless as a god’s.
Yet that only made its words seem more convincing to Tōru.
Following its instructions, he had successfully analyzed Flame Breathing.
He had also genuinely obtained its cultivation methods.
That meant the voice had never been wrong.
“Tōru?” After walking a short distance, Mikoto realized that no one was beside her.
She hurriedly turned around.
The sky over Konoha, which had been slightly gloomy only moments before, had suddenly been torn open by sunlight.
Several brilliant beams poured down from above.
Snowflakes floated within the light like feathers shed by angels.
Tōru stood before her with his head lowered.
Thin snow beneath his feet had been melted into water.
“Mom…” He said the word timidly and awkwardly.
At that moment, he could finally accept his identity without guilt.
He could finally say the simple word he had never had the chance to say in his previous life.
Ever since he could remember, his only family had been his older sister.
He raised his head.
Warm tears glistened on his peaceful, gentle smile.
The brilliant beams of sunlight were reflected in those crystalline droplets, making his purple-red Sharingan appear extraordinarily soft.
“Can I keep calling you that?” “Of course.” Uchiha Mikoto pulled Tōru’s head gently against her chest and lowered her head to answer him tenderly.
An uncontrollable smile spread across her lips.
“I’d be more than happy.”