ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴇɴᴛᴇɴ ꜰꜰ|

Chapter 96

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Kurenai Yuhi's apartment, casting soft light across the room. It was quiet, save for the rhythmic sounds of cooking—the sizzle of vegetables on the pan, the bubbling of broth in the pot. Ugetsu Hozuki stood at the stove, his spiky white hair falling just slightly over his forehead, not quite long enough to obstruct his vision but just enough to feel slightly bothersome. His motions were calm and precise, yet there was an edge of weariness in his demeanor, an exhaustion that ran deeper than the physical. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, the weight of recent months, of responsibilities he never anticipated, was beginning to show.

Kurenai, now heavily pregnant, sat at the small table in the corner of the room. Her crimson eyes observed Ugetsu quietly, studying the young man who had promised to look after her after Asuma's death. She could see the toll it was taking on him. Despite his tough exterior, Ugetsu was still just a sixteen-year-old boy, carrying a burden far beyond his years. He hadn't been the same since the death of his adoptive father, Hiruzen Sarutobi, and his surrogate brother, Asuma. While he tried to keep himself together for her, Kurenai could sense that something in him had shifted.

She let out a soft sigh, her gaze softening with concern. Ugetsu had never been one to ask for help. Always the protector, always the caretaker for others, especially after losing so much. Yet now, she saw that he was starting to falter under the weight of his own heart.

The smell of food reached her nose, and despite her growing discomfort from the pregnancy, Kurenai couldn't help but smile at the thought of the meal he was preparing for her. She wasn't the only one in need of care, but Ugetsu, as always, refused to take a break for himself. She stood up slowly, her hands resting on her rounded belly, and walked over to where he stood, her movements slow but deliberate.

"Ugetsu," Kurenai called softly, her voice warm but with a hint of concern. "How have you been doing lately? You've been looking a bit tired... I can tell it's not just from the cooking."

Ugetsu paused, the spoon in his hand stopping mid-motion. He turned slightly, meeting her eyes. His usual quiet, reserved demeanor remained, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, an openness he rarely allowed to show.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice low but not dismissive. He had always been the kind of person to push his feelings aside, always trying to keep the emotions of those around him from affecting his own calm. "Just... a lot on my mind, I guess."

Kurenai studied him, her crimson eyes softening with understanding. She stepped closer, her hands reaching out to gently push the strands of his white hair away from his forehead. She had noticed how long it had gotten, how it now poked at his eyes, hiding part of his face in a way that seemed almost symbolic. The once perfectly spiky hair now fell in softer, more unruly waves. She could see it was starting to bother him, but he wasn't the type to address it. Instead, he carried on, too caught up in the weight of everything else around him to worry about something as small as his appearance.

As she brushed his hair away, Ugetsu stood still, his breath catching for a moment as her touch brought him a strange sense of comfort. She was gentle, careful, as though she were tending to a child. Kurenai had a way about her, a calm, maternal presence that had always made him feel safe, even when his world felt like it was falling apart.

Kurenai's fingers lingered in his hair, her eyes tracing his face as she studied him. She had always thought of him as someone so strong, yet now she saw the cracks beginning to show. He wasn't invincible, despite what he might believe.

"You don't have to do everything on your own, Ugetsu," Kurenai said quietly, her voice full of tenderness. "You've been through so much. It's okay to lean on others sometimes... to let us help you too."

Ugetsu looked down, his shoulders heavy with the weight of her words. For a moment, he didn't say anything, lost in his thoughts. He wasn't used to being the one who needed help. But he was starting to realize, with Kurenai's gentle encouragement, that maybe it was okay to let others in.

"What do you think of me, Kurenai?" Ugetsu asked, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "You've seen me grow up, seen me at my worst and best... I don't know what you think of me anymore."

Kurenai blinked, taken aback by the question. It was rare for Ugetsu to ask for anyone's opinion of him, especially someone like Kurenai, who had always been a quiet, guiding presence in his life. She studied him for a long moment, as though weighing her words carefully. Her gaze softened as she placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"You're like a son to me, Ugetsu," Kurenai said softly, her voice full of warmth. "I've seen the burden you carry, and I know you don't like asking for help, but you don't have to do everything by yourself. You have so much potential, so much strength in you. But you also have a kind heart... one that's been scarred by so much loss. I think you've been trying to outrun your past, but I hope you'll realize that it's okay to let people in, to lean on those who care about you."

Ugetsu swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. Her words, though simple, struck a chord deep within him. No one had ever said it so plainly before—no one had ever spoken to him in such a way that made him realize how much he truly needed others, especially those like Kurenai who had been by his side through thick and thin.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear those words until now.

Kurenai smiled gently, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "There's no need to thank me. You're family, Ugetsu. Just like I promised Asuma... I'll always be here for you."

With that, Kurenai stepped back, her gaze shifting to the strands of hair falling across Ugetsu's forehead once again. She could see the way they were starting to poke his eyes, and despite the seriousness of the moment, she couldn't help but notice how much he looked like a boy still struggling to find himself.

She reached over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a small pair of scissors and turning back to him. "Sit down for a moment," she instructed gently. "Your hair is getting a little too long. Let me trim it for you. It's been bothering you, hasn't it?"

Ugetsu hesitated for only a second before nodding, sitting down on a nearby chair. He wasn't someone who worried much about his appearance, but the way Kurenai noticed the small things—like how his hair was starting to fall into his eyes—reminded him of her care and attentiveness.

Kurenai gently moved behind him, her hands working with practiced ease as she trimmed the stray strands of hair that had grown too long. Her touch was light, almost motherly, as she carefully shaped his hair. Ugetsu closed his eyes, the soothing sensation of her hands on his scalp washing over him. For the first time in what felt like a long while, he let himself relax, allowing himself to simply be cared for.

As she finished, Kurenai stepped back and inspected her work. "There," she said softly, her smile warm. "Much better. Now you can see clearly again."

Ugetsu reached up to touch his freshly trimmed hair, feeling the softness of the now-shorter strands. He smiled, the weight on his shoulders lifting, if only for a moment.

"Thanks, Kurenai," he said quietly. "For everything."

Kurenai nodded, her heart swelling with affection for the young man before her. "You don't have to thank me, Ugetsu. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, too."

And for the first time in a long while, Ugetsu felt a sense of peace—one that wasn't just about fulfilling promises or being strong for others, but about allowing himself to accept care and love in return.