Chapter 37: Chapter 37 – Malice From My Uncle
"How can you slander someone like that out of nowhere?!"
Hearing this, Madara's face turned bright red as he roared at Gin. If he'd known his unreliable cousin would twist his heartfelt words like this, he'd never have confided in him.
"And here I thought, since you're older, you'd have some constructive advice. Turns out you're just as shallow as the rest! I, Madara, am ashamed to be associated with you!"
With that, he flung his sleeves and stormed out like the wind.
"Hey! Don't go! Let me teach you a few tricks — otherwise you'll spend your whole life getting pinned beneath others!"
Gin cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted loudly at Madara's retreating back, drawing curious looks from passersby in the corridor and a chorus of whispers.
Madara wished he could sprout a few more legs and escape this place faster.
At the door, Izuna saw his big brother fleeing in disgrace. He immediately dropped the medicine he'd just picked up and chased after him, the two of them staging a dramatic, youthful chase scene.
Tajima stood there looking completely baffled as his two sons bolted one after another. He turned back to Gin with a puzzled expression.
"Gin… what did you say to tease Madara this time?"
"Heh, nothing much. You can ask Izuna when he comes back — he said he wants to report it to you personally," Gin replied with a sly smile.
Tajima sighed and shook his head, as though apologetic for Madara's behavior.
"That boy was out of line. I'll be sure to teach him properly when we get home."
"Uncle, saying things like that makes me feel like an outsider."
Whenever there were no other people around, Tajima always let Gin call him uncle rather than clan head.
"My mistake," Tajima said, looking apologetic. "It was careless of me. You'd just come back from a mission, and I immediately put you back to work without even letting you rest."
"Please, it was all my own fault for not being skilled enough, getting injured by the Senju," Gin said modestly.
He'd already overheard Izuna and Madara earlier: apparently his fainting spell had been attributed by Elder Byō to lingering injuries from his last mission. Not wanting to expose himself, Gin happily played along.
"Head injuries must be allowed to heal properly. Don't leave yourself with permanent damage."
Tajima patted his shoulder, his tone gentle — but Gin caught a fleeting sharpness in his eyes, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
"Gin… your report from that last mission still isn't complete, is it? After you encountered the Uzumaki, what happened? Did you meet anyone… unusual?"
He asked the question casually, as if it were an afterthought.
Gin thought back. When he'd tried to submit the report before, he'd been interrupted after revealing his Sharingan and never finished.
"After we encountered the Uzumaki," Gin said, pretending to ponder, "we were overwhelmed by their numbers and strength. The big muscle-bound leader pushed our captain back hard. Luckily, I managed to catch a young Uzumaki in the forest…"
The image of little Mito's adorable bun hairstyle flashed in his mind, and Gin smiled faintly as he continued.
"That child seemed to have some important status. I used her as leverage to draw their leader away, and we struck a deal — I released her, and they let us live."
Tajima nodded thoughtfully.
"Calm under pressure. Just what I'd expect of my nephew."
"All thanks to your teaching, uncle."
But Tajima pressed on: "You didn't encounter anyone… strange? Any unusual objects?"
"Ah—now that you mention it, I do remember. That little Uzumaki girl pulled out some kind of ninja tool to resist me."
Gin's eyes lit up as though the memory had just come back to him.
"What kind of ninja tool?"
Tajima's interest clearly piqued.
"It was… a pearl. Nothing special about it, really. When she activated it, it shot some kind of seal mark at me. It hit me on the head, but nothing happened. Probably defective."
Gin shrugged like it was nothing.
"…The head, huh?"
"Yes, here," Gin said, tapping his temple.
"…I see. Well, you should rest up for now. No need to return to work just yet."
Tajima's brow twitched slightly, but his expression stayed calm.
"I'm fine already. I can work tomorrow."
Gin hopped off the bed and performed a few flashy movements to prove he was fully recovered.
"…Very well. Don't overdo it."
Seeing he couldn't dissuade him, Tajima nodded in resignation.
Gin smiled and watched his uncle leave — but as soon as the man's back disappeared, Gin's smile vanished too.
That Tajima… was hiding something from him.
During their little conversation, Gin had inexplicably felt it — a faint but unmistakable malice coming from Tajima.
"Was that just my imagination?"
He couldn't say for sure — but once a seed of doubt was planted, it was hard to shake.
Later, after collecting himself, Gin left the hospital. It was getting late anyway, time to go home.
On his way through the market, he bought plenty of groceries. If he ever didn't come back one day, at least little Itama would have enough to eat for a few days.
He picked out several long-lasting ingredients, and when he paid the vendor, he felt it again — that subtle malice, coming from the merchant himself.
It was so sudden and faint that Gin didn't know what to make of it. He just shoved the money into the man's hand and left, frowning as he walked home with his head down, still mulling over what exactly he'd felt.
When he opened the door, he didn't get ambushed this time. The usually messy house was now spotless.
Hearing the door, black-haired Itama peeked out of the kitchen, wearing an apron, and looked him up and down.
"You're home early," he muttered.
"What's this little brat up to?"
Gin focused that strange sense on Itama — but felt no malice from him.
"Hmph. I only made enough for myself. If you want to eat, cook it yourself."
The boy held a spatula and glared at him.
"Ohhh? The great Senju heir knows how to cook?"
Gin squeezed into the kitchen — only to see something indescribable simmering in the pot.
"Oi oi oi, what kind of cursed abomination is this?"
"You dare mock me? Try it! I guarantee it's delicious!"
With unshakable confidence, Itama scooped some of the mosaic-like goop onto a plate and shoved it toward him.
"…No thanks. I'd like to live to see my great-grandmother."
Gin decisively refused. He still valued his life.
"You'll be begging me for a bite later," Itama scoffed, shoving a mouthful into his own mouth.
A few seconds later—
"Please don't die on me!!"
Gin held the foaming, convulsing Itama and almost cried.
He regretted not eating it himself and sparing the kid. If Itama died, his own life might be forfeit too.
Luckily, after throwing up everything he'd just eaten, the boy clung to life.
Gin picked up the now-weak boy in his arms. He was so light, so soft — and looking at his sleeping face, Gin couldn't help but think… this little brat wasn't all that annoying. That little round face was even… kind of cute.
Gin quickly shook his head, banishing the thought.
Get a grip. You're not Madara. Why the hell would you have thoughts about a Senju boy?
(End of Chapter)
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