Naruto: reborn as an Uzumaki

Kenshin continued, his voice soft but steady, recounting various moments of his childhood. "My mom… she always had trouble remembering her own birthday. But she'd start planning for my birthday days in advance, making it a big deal."

He chuckled slightly, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "One time, she completely forgot her birthday. That night, she just went to bed like it was any other day. After midnight, I woke her up with a cake I baked myself. The look on her face…"

Kenshin's smile widened, his gaze distant. "She was so surprised. She couldn't stop crying and laughing at the same time."

Suu smiled warmly. "It sounds like she brought a lot of joy into your life."

"She did," Kenshin agreed. But as he began to talk about the day they learned of the Uchiha massacre, he paused, his expression darkening.

Noticing the shift, Suu gently placed her hand over his. "Listen, we don't have to talk about that if you're not ready. We can talk about something else."

Before he could respond, the door opened, and Ino walked in, carrying two glasses of hot chocolate. "Here you go. Two of Ino's special hot chocolate, just for you guys!"

The drinks were topped with whipped cream and sprinkles, and she handed one to each of them, her gaze lingering on Kenshin for a moment before she gave a soft smile and left.

Suu didn't miss the exchange, but she said nothing, simply taking a sip of her drink. Kenshin, meanwhile, stared at the glass for a moment before taking a sip through the straw.

The warmth of the drink seemed to give him a bit of courage. "No, I think it's better if I talk about it," he said finally.

Suu nodded, her expression calm and encouraging.

Kenshin took a deep breath. "When we heard about the Uchiha massacre, my mom collapsed. She just… fell unconscious from the shock. That was the second most painful moment of my life."

Suu tilted her head slightly. "And the first?"

"We'll get to that in a minute," Kenshin replied, his voice tight. "That night, after she woke up, she cried the whole time. She hugged me so tightly, like she was afraid I'd disappear too. Afterward, she tried to act normal, but I could tell she was just hiding it from me. She was… broken."

He paused, staring into his hot chocolate as if the memory were reflected in it. "A few months later, she was showing me an advanced ninjutsu, and suddenly, she started coughing up blood. She collapsed. That's when we found out she had a chakra disease.

It prevented her body from naturally building up chakra, and it weakened her every time it tried to do so. The only treatment to slow it down was for someone to give her chakra."

"I'm assuming that that someone was you?" Suu guessed gently.

Kenshin nodded. "My chakra was the only one her body could accept. If anyone else tried, it would cause seizures. So, once a week, I gave her chakra. Although it soon became once a day. But over the months, her condition worsened. She started losing her grip, then her ability to walk.

By the time three years passed, she was completely bedridden. She could barely move, barely eat. Her hair turned gray, her body became skeletal… she looked so… fragile."

Suu's expression darkened, her voice soft. "That must have been excruciating for both of you. To be bedridden like that for years, to watch your child do everything possible to help you…" She shook her head. "I can't even imagine how Kana must've felt."

"She blamed herself," Kenshin said, his voice thick with emotion. "But she never showed it. She always smiled, right up until the day she died."

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "One day, her body rejected even my chakra. That's when I knew her time was up. I brought her to the Leaf, hoping the Hokage could help, but… even she couldn't do anything.

That was three months ago. At the moment she died, she told me she felt like a failure as a mother. She thanked me for taking care of her and asked me to take care of myself. Then, with all her strength, she kissed my forehead, and…"

Kenshin fell silent, his hands trembling. Suu reached out and gently stroked his back, offering silent comfort.

"That... was the most painful moment of my life," Kenshin said quietly. "But… as if fate willed otherwise, my Mangekyo Sharingan awakened. I was able to bring her back to life."

Suu's brows lifted slightly in surprise, but she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"The rest," Kenshin said, his voice steadier now, "I think you know."

Suu took a sip of her hot chocolate, nodding thoughtfully. "Kenshin, you've become rather famous nowadays. But I have to ask—why would your mom need to 'adopt' Akane instead of just accepting her as her daughter? I mean, Akane is her actual daughter, isn't she?"

Kenshin shrugged. "It's less of a hassle this way. Our dad having kids in another village doesn't exactly look great. This keeps things simpler."

Suu finished her drink and gestured for Kenshin to do the same. "All right. Let's get started. The Hokage brought you to me for a reason, Kenshin. You need help with something."

Kenshin nodded reluctantly, finishing his drink.

As Suu noticed him starting to sweat, she said, "Take off your jacket. You'll be more comfortable."

Kenshin complied, removing his jacket, but as he did, the Hidden Rain headband loosely tied around his neck became visible. Realizing this, he raised his hands awkwardly, trying to explain. "It's—uh, it's a gift. Someone close to me gave it to me on my graduation. It's her headband, and I couldn't part with it, so I keep it hidden."

Suu chuckled, amused by his flustered explanation. "Relax, Kenshin. It's natural to feel connected to something like that. The Hidden Rain is your birthplace, after all. I'm not going to judge you."

She gestured for him to sit cross-legged on the floor. Once they were both seated, Suu took his hands in hers. "Now, close your eyes."

As Suu activated her jutsu, the world around Kenshin dissolved into a serene, picturesque cherry blossom garden. The petals danced softly on the breeze, filling the air with a delicate fragrance. Kenshin looked around in awe, his expression softening in the tranquil environment.

"What is this place?" he asked, his voice curious yet cautious.

Suu gestured to the blooming trees around them. "This is a jutsu I developed during my younger days. Originally for interrogation, but I refined it for therapy after retiring as a kunoichi.

It's a space where we can safely explore your memories and work through your trauma by viewing them from a third-person perspective. A mindscape , if you will." She smiled warmly. "But first, let's get you comfortable here."

Kenshin nodded, taking in the calming atmosphere. The faint rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of life eased his initial tension.

"To start," Suu continued, "since this issue involves Akane, tell me the first happy memory of her that comes to mind."

Kenshin hesitated briefly, then a memory surged forward. A floating screen materialized before them, shimmering like a mirage. As the scene began playing, Kenshin's face turned red.

On the screen, Kenshin and Akane sat on the floor of Akane's apartment, and Akane leaned in hesitantly before pulling back, saying that it's wrong. But Kenshin, to Suu's surprise, leaned in and captured Akane's lips with a gentle kiss.

"Oh no," Kenshin groaned, burying his face in his hands. His voice was muffled, his embarrassment palpable. "Not this one. Please not this one."

Suu blinked, momentarily taken aback. Her professional composure faltered as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. It wasn't the act of kissing that surprised her—many people cherished their first kiss.

What caught her off guard was the context: they had kissed the very day they met, and just hours after learning they were siblings. Because no matter the reasoning, incest is incest. But it's their life, and their own choice. So it shouldn't be something that he needs to be embarrassed of, especially in front of his therapist.

She cleared her throat, pushing aside her initial reaction. "Well, this is… not what I expected." She turned to Kenshin, who was still visibly mortified. "But let me say this: while this situation isn't ideal, it's your life and your choice. I've seen far worse things over the years."

Kenshin peeked out from behind his hands, his face still red. Suu patted his back gently. "Hold off on explaining for now. We'll have time to unpack that later. For now, think of another happy memory."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Kenshin closed his eyes and thought. Another screen appeared before them, and this time, the memory was far more wholesome.

The screen showed Kenshin, Akane, Kana, Yukari, Kaede, and Kira gathered around a dinner table. Kana was laughing brightly, Yukari wore a gentle smile, and Akane was playfully competing with Kaede over Kenshin. The atmosphere was warm, filled with love and laughter.

Suu smiled at the sight, visibly relieved. "Now this," she said softly, "is a beautiful memory."

Kenshin nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched the scene. "It was one of the best nights of my life." he admitted quietly.

Suu placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Let's hold onto this feeling for a bit longer. It's moments like these that help us move past our trauma."

As Suu guided Kenshin through his memories, her tone remained gentle, encouraging him to recall the moments that brought him joy.

"Think about more happy memories with your family," she said. "Even the simple ones. Anything that makes you feel warmth."

Kenshin nodded, closing his eyes to concentrate. One by one, floating screens began appearing around them.

Some showed wholesome moments—Kana teasing him about his messy hair, Akane laughing at a joke he couldn't quite remember, and Yukari watching his and Kana's banter this morning.

Others displayed mundane but cherished times, like training sessions or quiet evenings spent together. A few, more intimate, showed Akane leaning her head on his shoulder after a long day, or Kana giving him a motherly embrace when she thought he needed it most.

Yet, as the memories played out, a thought crept into Kenshin's mind. Despite the profound love he felt for his family, he realized he hadn't had many truly new experiences with them.

Ever since finding Akane three months ago, and since Kana and Kenshin moved to the Leaf two months ago, life had fallen into a routine.

While every moment with them felt special to him, it was the same training, the same day-to-day life.

The incident in the Hidden Grass had stolen the past half-month from him, and though he'd enjoyed a brief but heartwarming day with Amaya and Hana, that too was fleeting. Even the one mission they all went on together ended in chaos.

Kenshin kept these thoughts to himself, unwilling to voice the subtle ache of regret that was forming in his chest.

As Suu observed the unfolding memories, a clearer picture of Kenshin's inner turmoil began to form.

Through it all, one thing became unmistakably clear to Suu: Kenshin was deeply, almost obsessively, protective of his family. This protectiveness wasn't just a trait—it was the very foundation of his strength and growth.

He berated himself for being weaker than Akane, questioning how he could protect her if she was stronger. It was this drive to shield his loved ones that pushed him to grow stronger, to endure, and to fight harder. His greatest moments of growth only happened when he needed to protect someone.

But this protectiveness was also the root of his trauma. Suu could see it in the way he reacted to Akane's blood in his memories. That single moment—when he hurt her, even unintentionally—was something he could never forgive himself for.

The memory of her injury triggered his overwhelming need to protect, flooding him with guilt and self-recrimination.

It was clear to Suu now. This overprotectiveness was both Kenshin's greatest strength and his deepest vulnerability. It fueled his growth, his will to fight, and his unmatched resolve.

But it also planted the seeds of his PTSD. The sight of Akane's blood during the incident had been the ultimate betrayal of his self-imposed duty to protect her, a wound that festered in his mind.

Unbeknownst to Kenshin, Suu had discreetly accessed the memory of his berserker incident earlier. She knew that fully recreating it would be vital for future sessions.

However, she also understood that relying solely on his perspective could lead to skewed conclusions. Memories, especially traumatic ones, were often unreliable, distorted by emotion and perception.

Suu decided she would need to secretly examine Akane's memory of the incident as well, but she would keep this plan to herself for now.

For the rest of the session, she focused on the happier moments, creating a safe space for Kenshin to linger in his memories without the weight of guilt or pain.

After some time, Suu gently deactivated the jutsu. The cherry blossom garden faded away, leaving them back in her cozy office.

"How do you feel?" she asked, her voice warm and reassuring.

Kenshin exhaled slowly. "Lighter, I think."

Suu nodded. "Good. I want you to focus on what we did today—the good memories. They're still yours, and they can be your anchor when things get tough. Painful memories are just that—memories. They can hurt, but they don't have to control you."

He nodded, her words sinking in.

"Come back tomorrow," Suu continued, standing up. "But maybe a bit later than today. I'd like you to have lunch with my family. Ino's been experimenting with cooking recently, and I'd love to see what you think of her dishes."

Kenshin gave a faint smile. "I'll be there."

As he left, Suu watched him go with a mixture of hope and determination. Kenshin's journey was far from over, but today had been a good first step.

As Kenshin descended the steps from Suu's office, he spotted Ino waiting by the entrance. She gave him a bright smile, though her eyes held a trace of curiosity and concern.

"Hey, Kenshin," she greeted, folding her arms. "How'd your session go?"

Kenshin paused, a bit surprised by the casual question. "It went well," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. He appreciated that she wasn't prying—it was clear she understood the gravity of his situation without needing to know the details.

There was a brief silence, during which Kenshin half-expected her to ask him something deeper, perhaps even personal. Instead, Ino surprised him.

"So… did you like my hot chocolate earlier?" she asked, tilting her head with a grin.

Kenshin blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, uh, yeah. It was really good," he said honestly. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he added, "But maybe there were a few too many sprinkles. I'm not really a fan of those."

Ino nodded, as if committing the detail to memory. "Noted. Next time, no sprinkles. Got it. Maybe I'll add some extra chocolate instead."

Her lighthearted response eased some of the tension Kenshin hadn't realized he was holding. He nodded, offering a small but genuine smile, before heading off.

As he disappeared down the street, Suu came down the stairs, her expression calm but thoughtful. Ino turned to her mother, her smile fading into a more serious expression.

"Mom," she began, lowering her voice, "did you see that person inside his mind?"

Suu frowned slightly, understanding immediately who Ino was referring to. "No, I didn't," she admitted. "When I used my jutsu, it worked exactly as I intended it to—a mindscape focused on Kenshin's memories and emotions. There was no second soul or any presence other than his own."

Ino's brows furrowed in thought. "Weird. When I used my mind transfer jutsu on him, I met him. It didn't feel intentional, more like an accident, something even that person didn't expect. Even he was surprised."

Suu placed a reassuring hand on Ino's shoulder. "Perhaps it's something unique about how your jutsu interacts with his mind. But whatever it is, it didn't appear for me. For now, let's not overthink it."

Ino nodded slowly, though her curiosity was far from satisfied. "What's his issue, though?" she asked, her voice soft and cautious.

Suu hesitated for a moment before answering. "PTSD," she said, her tone gentle but firm.

Ino's eyes widened slightly. "Oh…"

"And you're to keep that information to yourself," Suu continued, her tone leaving no room for argument. "He doesn't want his family to know, and as his therapist, I'm obligated to honor that wish. The reasons behind it are confidential—between client and therapist."

Ino nodded quickly. "Of course. I won't say a word."

"Good," Suu said, her voice softening. "By the way, he's going to be over for lunch after tomorrow's session, and I promised him you'll be cooking. So you'll have to be on lunch duty tomorrow."

Ino smiled faintly. "You've got it, Mom."

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Once again, thank you everyone for your continued support and power stones. And as always, please give me your power stones and comment your opinions. They make a big difference and motivate me to write more.