𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐢 | ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ꨄ︎ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘᴜᴅᴇɴ

[3/4] Kumo Sanjiro

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✧˖*°࿐

Many steps vibrate the floors of the relatively peaceful compound. Some Kumo's walked together through the gardens while other's stuck to training in certain parts of the compound. Sanjiro stuck to confining himself in one of the main offices, cleaning up the mess of Osamu's poor quality work.

"You're bending the rules far too much, Osamu." Sanjiro sighed through his nose, rolling up some written scrolls.

Osamu sat behind the desk, buried in paperwork regarding the brewing third war. Of course, all of Kumo's efforts have been credited to him.

And not Sanjiro, who spent nights and early mornings going from paperwork to missions. As an advisor of his own clan, it's been consistently hard to get more involved with shinobi duties. Osamu seemed to appreciate this since he could sit at his desk as if it were a throne of his own while the mess of the world continued orbiting the sun.

"It does not matter. The Leaf village should have no concern for our affairs. Besides, once Susumu's enrolled in the academy, no one will even remember her existence."

Kiyoko. Sanjiro sets scrolls aside before standing up from the seat in front of the desk. He gave Osamu a hidden look of contempt. Although the latter was too busy reading letters to care or notice.

"Once she's of age, Kiyoko will get married-off. Whether she chooses to stay here or move out is none of my concern." Osamu stamps a letter in particular.

The head of Kumo doesn't even know about Sanjiro's secret teachings. How he had granted Kiyoko access to the academy's libraries a few years ago or how she was currently nose-deep in ninjutsu books.

Her intelligence succeeded Susumu, but that was to be expected. 

"And if Kiyoko goes against it?" Sanjiro lowly asked, clenching his fist.

He watched as Osamu tilted his head up. The older male wore a slighting look with as much disdain one could muster. He truly held no care for his first born and rightful heir.

"She can rot in this compound for as long as she wishes. Just like her new mother." He snickered to himself, stacking letters aside.

Sanjiro's chest felt heavy. A common question he always asked inside of his head being: "How am I related to such man?" Yet, it's always unanswered. Because blood is permanently sealed at birth. Even if it's with the most vile of people.

"Leave now, I can take it from here." Osamu waved his hand out, satisfied of the work mainly completed by Sanjiro.

Of course you can.

Sanjiro lowered his face before curtly leaving the room.

The light of the day nearly had him squint as he strolled through the wooden halls of the breezy clan home. Servants would smile his way, including some Kumo's who inwardly respected him more so than Osamu.