"Every ti I see you like this… it's embarrassing. Completely unbecoming."
"It was only the Eight-Tails. I already scolded Minato, but on the battlefield, a shinobi can't rely on others to protect them forever. What do they call you again? White Yaksha? Well, look at you now—more like Red Yaksha, huh?"
The Nine-Tails looking down on the Eight-Tails was understandable—after all, one had an extra tail.
But Kushina looking down on the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki?
That was a bit questionable.
Regarding Hagoromo's injury, Kushina's usual routine was simple:
In front of Minato, she scolded Minato.
In front of Hagoromo, she scolded Hagoromo.
Though she complained endlessly, she knew very well that the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki was no ordinary opponent. Neither Hagoromo nor Minato had gone into detail about the battle, so she genuinely believed Hagoromo had been injured because he couldn't overpower his enemy.
She had been extrely worried when she first heard the news.
But once Hagoromo returned to Konoha, she never showed that worry.
That simply wasn't Kushina's style.
If you said she was scolding him, then yes—she absolutely was. Kushina wasn't tsundere about it either. From her tone, it almost sounded like if she had been on the battlefield, she would've personally taught Hagoromo how to deal with tailed beasts properly.
Still—
This was concern.
And Hagoromo could tell.
So he imdiately raised both hands in surrender.
This was one of those monts when Kushina beca especially long-winded. Every ti she ca to the hospital, she repeated these sa lines almost word for word.
After returning to Konoha, Hagoromo had remained in the hospital, focusing on recovery and letting his body heal.
At the mont, he was half-reclined on the bed, while Kushina sat beside him on a chair.
At first, Hagoromo had tried explaining himself properly, but after hearing the sa lecture countless tis, he had learned that ignoring it entirely was the optimal solution.
So he changed the subject.
"Kushina-sensei, you don't have to co every day. You're busy preparing for the wedding."
Kushina visited every morning—sotis earlier, sotis later. Hagoromo didn't dislike it at all.
The problem was that every visit ca with homade nutritional lunches, allegedly to help him recover faster.
If you judged by taste, though, they didn't feel "homade" at all.
They tasted more like sothing mass-produced.
And not food mass-produced.
More like industrial chemicals.
Since Kushina's nutritional lunches had entered his life, Hagoromo had been surviving solely by looking forward to dinner.
"Wedding preparations aren't that troubleso," Kushina waved it off.
"In tis like these, it's just a simple ceremony anyway. They're all small matters—I left everything to Minato."
"…Huh?"
Hagoromo froze.
This was the first ti he had ever heard of a bride acting as the hands-off manager.
Who was marrying whom here?
Who was taking whose surna?
"In any case, don't worry about it," Kushina said decisively, closing the topic.
Every ti Hagoromo spoke like this, she felt an inexplicable sense of discomfort.
After all, the way he spoke sounded less like a student worrying about his teacher—and more like a father worrying about his daughter getting married.
"…By the way," Kushina added after a pause,
"Should we really not postpone the wedding?"
"No, absolutely not," Hagoromo shook his head quickly.
"I don't want to cause you any trouble."
This wasn't the first ti Kushina had brought it up.
Given Hagoromo's current condition, there was no way he could attend the wedding. Kushina had wanted to delay it until he recovered enough to move freely.
Hagoromo had firmly opposed the idea.
If he couldn't help, that was one thing—but becoming an inconvenience on top of that felt unforgivable.
"It wouldn't be that troubleso," Kushina muttered.
"There aren't many guests anyway. Just notifying everyone again would be enough…"
She stopped herself.
She didn't want her student feeling guilty.
"…Speaking of which," she said softly.
"Yes?"
Kushina turned to look out the window. After a while, she continued,
"None of my students will be able to attend the wedding."
Students.
In truth, she and Minato only had two students left.
The other two…
Would never attend anything again.
"Not even Kakashi?" Hagoromo asked.
"He probably has an ANBU mission," Kushina replied.
"And besides, Kakashi isn't the type who enjoys lively occasions—especially not now."
"I see…"
Hagoromo didn't know what to say.
By that logic, as Kushina's only remaining student who could attend, perhaps he truly shouldn't be absent.
Attend while injured?
Wheelchair? Stretcher?
That didn't feel right either.
This was a wedding—his presence like that would only ruin the mood.
Seeing the conflict on his face, Kushina suddenly laughed.
"What is it, Kushina-sensei?" Hagoromo asked, confused.
She had just rembered Hagoromo from several years ago.
That expression—
Exactly the sa.
"You know," she said, smiling,
"You're taller than now, Hagoromo."
"Am I…? I don't think so?"
He honestly hadn't paid attention. He hadn't checked his height or weight in a long ti.
"Yes, you are. About one-seventy centiters—half a head taller than ."
Trust Kushina to asure height in fists.
"I'm a professional shinobi," she added confidently.
"I can estimate these things."
Apparently, professional shinobi could estimate the height of soone lying half-down.
Hagoromo learned sothing new.
"I rember when I first t you—you were only about this tall."
She gestured to just above her knee.
Hagoromo was deeply offended.
Did she store mories in her cerebellum or sothing?
He was taller than that even at three years old.
"That was several years ago," he said helplessly.
"Yes… several years ago," Kushina repeated.
"Yet sohow, you haven't changed much at all."
"Changed? I have," Hagoromo replied.
He wished he hadn't—but he knew he had.
He just couldn't say exactly how.
He fell silent.
After sitting a while longer, Kushina stood up.
"It's getting late. I should go. Between wedding preparations and sitting around with young people like you, I start feeling old."
People change.
She was no exception.
"Don't forget to eat the lunch I made, Hagoromo."
That single sentence made his face twist in despair.
It was her goodwill—of course he would eat it.
But really… why did he care about Kushina this much?
He didn't know.
…Or did he?
The answer was simple.
And complicated.
And sothing that didn't need to be explained.
Things were fine as they were.
"Five years already… I'm fifteen now. That feels strange."
Very strange.
In reality, Hagoromo had lived far longer than fifteen years—many tis over.
Yet hearing "fifteen" from his own mouth made him feel like he was pretending to be young.
He was the one who was truly old.
Tch… why think about this now?
Weddings always made people think about life, aging, illness, and death.
For now, his task was simple:
Recover.
Rest.
Think.
There were many things he still needed to do.
He might never get this kind of quiet ti again.
So—
Eat Kushina's lunch.
Then take a nap.
Naps were a good habit.
Unfortunately, Hagoromo had underestimated one thing.
After eating Kushina's "nutritional lunch," there was no way he could fall asleep.
He was fully energized.
Power. Up.
Did she put half a kilo of eighty-two-year-old pickled mustard greens in this or sothing?
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