Stories Revealed

Riki lifted the cup of herbal tea that Mina had given him and said:

"The mission I would choose... is to make this last."

The friends raised their glasses, each with their own drink or sweet, and toasted in silence.

At that moment, time seemed to have stopped. There was no war, no training, no fear.

There was belonging.

Closing of the Party

The party was gradually beginning to empty, the adults were saying goodbye with smiles, thanks and promises of future meetings, the younger children, overcome by sleep, had already been carried on their parents' shoulders or had fallen asleep in padded corners of the living room.

The scent of soft incense hung in the air, along with the muffled sound of paper lanterns swaying on the porch in the night breeze.

Riki looked around the crowded house. It was his home, and yet it seemed like another place, overflowing with life, voices, and intertwined stories.

"It seems we'll be staying here tonight," Akari commented, sinking down with relief on the cushions in the side room where the young people had gathered.

"My grandmother said it would be a good time to 'solidify the bonds between the heirs'," Tetsu said sarcastically, lying down with his arms crossed behind his head.

"So be it!" Sayuri said, "at least your mother's tea is divine, Riki."

Everyone laughed, softer now, the sound of the wind seemed to fill the gaps in the night with care, as if respecting the moment.

They were all together in one of the largest rooms in the house, the zashiki, with soft tatami mats and open paper doors, with mattresses arranged in a circle and small candles on the sides. The warm, golden shadow created a bubble of intimacy. "You know. Kaede began, looking at the ceiling, her voice calm as ever.

— When I was little, my father told me that our blood carries memories that are not ours... memories from ages before ours.

— Like an inherited genjutsu? Satoru joked, but with a hint of curiosity.

— Like a legacy. She corrected him gently. — The priests of our lineage looked after a sealed temple in Uzushiogakure, before the destruction, my father says that I am his heir, and that one day I must "awaken the seal of ancient wisdom". Whatever that means, or whatever that awakening brings.

— At least it has a direction. Akari replied. — I am Hiroto Uzumaki's daughter, he commanded one of the seal headquarters before the war, ever since I can remember, he says that I will be the next seal commander, but sometimes I just want to... run. Fight. Scream.

— And you scream very well, Sayuri said with a smile, causing Akari to slap him.

— My grandfather was a blacksmith and sealer, one of those responsible for the mechanisms of the Uzushiogakure wall. Satoru revealed, sharing something intimate for the first time. — After the fall, he spent his life rebuilding ancient scrolls and broken seals. He wants me to continue. But... I paint. I don't know if I'm what he expects.

There was silence for a moment. Everyone absorbed the weight of their inheritances, the expectations and the doubt.

— And you, Riki? Kaede asked, breaking the moment. — You are the grandson of the two leaders who unified the Valley, the son of Princess Akemi. What do you want?

Riki took a deep breath, the heat of the candles reflected in his dark eyes, and there was something older in them than his age suggested.

— I always thought I would die young.

Everyone looked at him, surprised by his frankness.

— But lately... I've been feeling that maybe I'll live long enough to change something. I see you, I see the weight you carry, your legacies, your pain, and your responsibilities. And I know I'm not the only one who feels the weight of a village that was destroyed before we were even born.

Pausing, his eyes roaming over each of his friends.

— But here we are. United... And that, more than anything, matters!

Riki stood up, sitting in the center of the circle.

— Uzushiogakure is not just a place, it's an idea. It's what still lives in each of us, and if adults still mourn the past... we can build the future, one day, we will rebuild it. In our own way!

The house no longer vibrated as it had hours before; the paper lanterns flickered on the external balconies, now accompanied only by the soft sound of cicadas and the occasional crackling of wood on the tatami.

The interior of the residence was silent, except for one of the central rooms, the zashiki, transformed into an improvised dormitory for the young heirs who would stay there that night; the air carried the scent of cherry blossoms and burnt wood, while the darkness was softly broken by the light of candles and oil lamps.

The tatami floor had been lined with futons and soft cushions, and around the center of the room, a small brazier kept the temperature pleasant, around it sat Riki, Akari, Kaede, Satoru, Sayuri and Tetsu, all dressed in simple yukatas, their hair loose, finally free from the obligations of the day.

It was night, but no one there seemed to want to sleep yet.

— I'm tired, but happy, Sayuri murmured, leaning back against the cushions. — It was a good party.

— And crowded. Your house almost hosted a festival, Riki. Kaede said, smiling gently. — You are very dear, and your mother is even more adored.

— It's her eyes' fault, Tetsu muttered, causing a wave of muffled laughter.

Satoru stared at the flame of the brazier with an absent-minded air, his shadow wavering on the wooden walls like an old drawing.

Riki took a deep breath and then broke the silence that had settled in.

— Have you ever thought about who you really are?

The attention turned to him.

— I mean... not just the names we carry, but what it means, the blood we have, what was lost before we were born. And what should we do with what we inherited?

Kaede tilted her head, interested.

— My father talks about it sometimes, about how we need to "honor the old ways," but he never explains what that means, not really.

"I think it's more than that," Riki replied, his voice low but firm. "'Honoring' isn't remembering with tears in our eyes, it's taking action, it's becoming worthy of what we've inherited."

Everyone was staring at him, and he knew it.

And he used silence as a weapon.

"Each of us carries something we didn't ask for, a name, a role, an unfinished mission. I didn't ask to be the grandson of who I am, and neither did you, but look where we are: At the center of the last whirlpool. What are we going to do with it?"

Tetsu frowned. "You talk as if we were soldiers."

"We are more than soldiers, we are seeds. And everything that grows from us may be new, but it must not be weak. The world outside the Valley… will not protect us, they will not applaud us." They will fear what we can be.

He raised one arm and pointed to the ceiling as if to the sky.