Red Nara

"Are you okay?" Stepping forward, Senju helped the little Nara get up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he shook his head once more and finally lifted his piercingly clear gaze of bright green eyes to the kunoichi. "Thank you!"

"Next time, watch where you're running," scolded Toka, helping him shake the dirt off his clothes.

"Sure thing!" the boy nodded in agreement, flashing a dazzling smile, and Senju couldn't help but return it. "Um... Excuse me, both-chan, are you Senju?"

Surprised, the woman nodded slowly.

"Why do you ask?" she inquired.

"Just when they told us about the founding of the village, your clan and Uchiha were named as the founders, and while I've met a ton of people with fans over the past year," the boy gestured amusingly to indicate the size of this imaginary ton, "I've only seen two with your emblem in person, counting this meeting. Why do you hide?"

If the general meaning of the speech was received by Toka with sadness, the child's straightforwardness and the very last question inadvertently made her smile.

"Unfortunately, our clan has greatly diminished since the founding of Konoha," Senju said sadly, shaking her head, "the last war was tough, and Leaf paid a bloody price for its victory, among which we suffered significant losses too."

Sighing, the kunoichi shook her head, and looking down at the little Nara, she almost flinched when his face suddenly took on an extremely serious expression, so unlike children, and his piercing green eyes seemed to look straight into her soul.

"If Konoha couldn't or didn't want to take care of its creators, then maybe it's time to take care of our own survival, rather than continuing to nurture an ungrateful child that turned out unworthy of the care shown?" Toka froze in place, unable to believe what she had just heard from a five-year-old.

Reason refused to accept the fact that her tumultuous thoughts and fears, secret anxieties and doubts, hidden deep within her sharpened mind, which she would never admit to anyone, not even herself under threat of death, were just articulated! And by whom? A kid who had barely learned how to throw a kunai correctly!

"Both-chan! What's your name?"

"Toka..." the bewildered woman murmured, watching as all seriousness dissolved under the pressure of the child's immediacy.

"And I'm Ryu! Nice to meet you, but I gotta run, maybe we'll meet again and play together!" waving his hand, the boy dashed off, circling around Senju, and ran further down the street, unaware of how his words would affect the fate of this particular representative of the great clan, as well as the rest of its members.

"By the mouths of children, the gods speak," muttered the kunoichi, ignoring the astonished looks of passersby, continuing to watch the red-haired messenger of fate.

A part of her mind mechanically noted and set aside the presence of something under the boy's short bangs, something very similar to the crystal adorning Mito-sama's forehead. Uzumaki roots?

Replaying everything said in her head once again, Toka took a deep breath, straightened up, and with renewed confidence, strode on. It was not the time to indulge in doubts and anxieties when so much remains to be done!

If she has to personally ensure that the great clan survives, then so be it! They sacrificed for their offspring for too long; it's time to collect the debt for those sacrifices and take care of those who remain! Nothing and no one will stop the chosen path of the Senju!

***

Quickly leaving the scene, all I could do was sigh with relief — never expected to run into one of the oldest and strongest Senju just strolling down the street! And that involuntary impromptu I managed to deliver to the old lady seemed more like the ravings of a visitor to the psychiatric ward.

Hopefully, this conversation will lead to something positive. Senju looked concerned enough, and betting on a small piece of advice on the subject, I hope I didn't go wrong. In the worst case scenario, the clan of Konoha's founders will cease to exist, leaving Tsunade as its last representative.

An undesirable outcome, but the most likely one. Personally influencing the situation in the village won't be possible for another ten to fifteen years in the most optimistic scenario, in reality — until I earn the rank of jonin and make it onto the A-ranked shinobi list in the bingo book. Of course, there's still the method of indirect intervention, like the recent conversation, but here too much depends on chance.

Temporarily pushing Senju and their problems out of my head, I picked up speed towards the market — a late dinner awaits me, and then back to studying.

First thing I did upon returning to the clan was to persuade the second grandpa to allow me to attend lectures by an iryo-nin, held by one of the Naras at the main hospital in Konoha, and gain access to the medical knowledge of the clan.

Nothing too complicated — basic anatomy, types of injuries, first aid, and similar things. So, in addition to the already ingrained "warm-up" training of the Uzumaki, training in the clan, practicing the creation of hidenjutsu, and fuinjutsu practice with chakra control, I also added lessons with an iryo-nin.

Given the intense schedule, I doubt I'll have time for anything else in the next couple of years, except sleep and food.

Thank goodness for shadow clones; otherwise, I wouldn't even have time for that.