Tired Mito Uzumaki
Mito Uzumaki felt a quiet pang in her chest as she faced Chi Yu's ever-present guardedness.
She had been observing the boy—no, the young man—and the way he treated Kushina Uzumaki these past few years. There was warmth there, a bond deep and genuine.
And that left Mito feeling both grateful… and helpless.
Grateful, because Chi Yu and Kushina had formed a powerful connection, almost like siblings clinging to each other in a foreign land. But helpless, because it seemed they only had each other. No friends, no peers, no one else to rely on.
Both alone—together.
When Chi Yu had visited her not long ago, she'd learned he'd quietly moved houses. Since Hiruzen Sarutobi had publicly visited him at the Konoha Hospital, the villagers no longer dared mock him openly. Fear and respect replaced ridicule—but it was a thin, brittle mask over deep-rooted suspicion.
And so Mito had asked him that day, "Chi Yu… do you feel a sense of belonging to Konoha now?"
His answer had been direct, precise. "My allegiance will always be to Konoha."
But Mito wasn't deceived. She felt the lie.
More than that—she sensed the malice hidden in his heart.
That was when Mito Uzumaki finally realized: Chi Yu had always carried hatred for Konoha.
And how could he not?
He'd almost died before he was even born—caught in the bloody crossfire of Uchiha clan politics.
His parents had defected from Konoha under pressure and were hunted down by the ANBU like dogs.
After they died, and Chi Yu returned to Konoha… the Uchiha didn't acknowledge him. Worse—they disdained him. The villagers whispered behind his back. The children shunned him.
What reason did he have to love this village?
Chi Yu had been wearing a mask since he was four years old. Pretending. Surviving. Even now, years later, that mask remained firmly in place.
He was carrying burdens no child ever should.
And Mito… she wanted to help. But she, too, was bound.
On one side, the Senju clan—her late husband's legacy. On the other, the village he had built with his own hands: Konohagakure.
She wanted to tell Chi Yu not to hate this place.
But those words caught in her throat. She didn't have the right to say them.
"Grandma Mito, are you okay?" Kushina's voice broke through, tugging on her sleeve with childlike innocence.
Mito forced a soft smile. "It's nothing, Kushina. I'd like to speak to Chi Yu alone for a bit. Is that alright?"
Kushina, ever trusting, nodded with a bright grin. "Of course!"
But just as she turned to leave, Chi Yu reached out and gently grasped her hand.
"Lady Mito," he said evenly, "Orochimaru-sensei gave me quite a bit of homework. I'd like to chat with Kushina for a bit longer, then I'll take my leave."
Trouble. He could smell it.
Whatever Mito wanted to talk about—it wasn't simple. And he didn't want any part of it.
After all, Mito wanted to make Kushina the next Nine-Tails Jinchūriki. And that meant Chi Yu and Mito stood on opposite sides of a very grim line.
Even Kushina, who usually remained oblivious to undercurrents, sensed something wrong. "Chi Yu… Grandma Mito…"
Mito sighed, her voice tinged with age and sorrow. "Chi Yu, I don't ask to speak to you as a representative of Konoha. Just as an elder to Kushina. Is that so wrong?"
Chi Yu hesitated, then looked at Kushina. Seeing her worried expression, his brows furrowed slightly. He released her hand.
"I understand. Kushina, wait for me outside. I'll be there soon."
When she left, Chi Yu turned to Mito and asked coldly, "Lady Mito, what is it you wish to discuss?"
Mito's voice was soft. "Chi Yu, you are of my husband's clan. That makes me, in some way, your elder."
Chi Yu lowered his head slightly. "Lady Mito… I don't have a surname."
That bitter smile again crossed Mito's lips.
No surname. He didn't even acknowledge the Senju name… how painful that was.
But she didn't press the issue. "Chi Yu… I'm relieved to know Kushina has someone like you with her."
Chi Yu blinked. Mito's words… caught him off guard.
She smiled again—wry, tired. "Only Kushina can draw out the real you. That says everything."
Then her tone shifted. "The Uzumaki are born with unique bodies—abundant chakra, incredible vitality. What I'm about to tell you is a closely guarded secret of Konoha…"
But before she could continue, she felt it.
A surge of malice.
Invisible, yet unmistakable.
Chi Yu's face was calm, perfectly so—but Mito, who had once contained the Nine-Tails, could sense it clearly. That hatred was pointed directly at her.
Confused, Mito faltered. She hadn't said anything yet. So why the hostility?
Her eyes narrowed sharply. Could it be… he already knew?
Of course, Chi Yu did know.
The moment Mito mentioned the Uzumaki constitution and "Konoha's secret," it was obvious what she intended to discuss—the Nine-Tails, and Kushina's fate as its next Jinchūriki.
And then he remembered something chilling.
The ability granted by the Nine-Tails… to sense negative emotions.
That's how she knew.
No wonder she had commented earlier about him being overly guarded—she could feel it.
Chi Yu's expression darkened.
In front of someone like Mito Uzumaki, his carefully maintained mask was useless.
He took a deep breath and let the tension roll off his shoulders. If he couldn't lie, then he'd speak carefully.
Mito watched the shift in his demeanor. Her gaze hardened.
"I see now. You know about the Nine-Tails. You know why Kushina came to Konoha, don't you?"
Chi Yu's voice remained neutral. "Lady Mito… I have no way of knowing."
It was a half-truth. Let her be the one to cross the line.
Mito frowned. "Yes, you have no way of knowing. And yet… you do. So your hostility—does it stem from the fact that Konoha intends for Kushina to become the Jinchūriki?"
Chi Yu's answer was smooth and sterile. "That is Konoha's decision. I have no authority to interfere."
Mito sighed again. Speaking with Chi Yu was exhausting. So young, yet so cold. So… resolute.
He was a boy scarred by war, loss, and betrayal—yet somehow, still standing.
And that, perhaps, was the most tragic part.