The dinner was meant to help them get acquainted.
After all, they were children of similar age, and all carried the legacy of the Hokage's circle. It made no sense for them to remain strangers without any real connection.
In truth, the strongest supporter behind Hiruzen becoming the Third Hokage hadn't been the Senju clan—it was Uzumaki Mito herself.
It happened at the end of the Shinobi War. When the Second Hokage fell in battle and a new leader was needed, he had named Sarutobi Hiruzen as his successor. But a mere nomination wasn't enough to secure the position.
The Sarutobi clan lacked the influence to push Hiruzen forward on their own. Many village clans, preferring an experienced elder with prestige, would have resisted. That's why Mito stepped in. At the time, she was the most powerful and respected figure in the village—and terrifyingly strong.
But Mito had already accepted a painful truth: the future wasn't hers to lead.
The new era needed younger leadership. Hiruzen, her junior and a disciple of the Second, was someone she'd watched grow. He wasn't fully ready to be Hokage, but he had the potential to grow into it.
Besides, the other clans didn't want her to take up the mantle, and while the Senju might have, Mito didn't care about their expectations. She wasn't truly one of them. Tsunade was—the princess of the Senju, whether she liked it or not—and many forces would try to push her forward.
As her grandmother, Mito only wanted to protect her. A bit of selfishness wasn't a crime. But her love was real.
Maki could feel it clearly—this woman's care was genuine.
Mito didn't try to smooth over the tension between Maki and Tsunade at the dinner table. Instead, she seemed quietly entertained by it. She simply smiled and kept serving meat to everyone, worried they wouldn't eat enough.
In that moment, she really did seem like an ordinary, doting grandmother.
She took charge of the grill, piling meat onto the kids' plates. Tsunade, still fuming, chewed angrily and glared at Maki from across the table. She could feel it—this girl was stealing her grandma. The love hadn't disappeared, but it had been divided.
Jiraiya, meanwhile, just focused on eating, the most innocent one at the table.
Orochimaru hesitated, glancing at Mito as if he wanted to say something. But he couldn't bring himself to speak.
Naori ate in tiny bites, quietly guarding her bowl. When Mito handed her more meat, she looked at the woman with pleading eyes—she couldn't eat anymore—but still obediently passed her bowl forward.
What surprised Mito most was Hitomi Hyuga. The quiet girl took meat from her own plate and placed it into Mito's bowl, looking at her with wide, sincere eyes. Mito was touched—she thought she wasn't eating enough.
Tsunade would never do something like that. She was still too young to be thoughtful like that.
And Maki…
This girl had an appetite comparable to Tsunade's. But Mito sensed something odd. After watching closely, she smiled quietly.
Tsunade ate a lot because of her natural energy and constitution. But Maki? She was sneaking meat to her bugs under the table.
So sly.
So adorable.
Mito said nothing.
Meanwhile, the only one visibly stressed was the Third Hokage himself. In an effort to lighten the mood, he kept making cheerful small talk.
"Hiruzen, you're getting too chatty," Mito said bluntly, slightly irritated.
"Yes, Mito-sama…" Hiruzen mumbled, falling silent like a scolded child.
After the meal, the group naturally split up to return to their homes. The Third Hokage wanted the six children to stay together a little longer, but Mito didn't budge.
Some things needed to happen naturally.
The two adults left first, and the six kids shared awkward glances.
Tsunade seemed like she wanted to say something.
But Maki didn't give her the chance. She turned and walked off. Naori glanced around once before quietly following her.
Tsunade seethed in silence.
It wasn't that Maki disliked Tsunade. She just didn't want to talk to her right now.
Tsunade was still too immature. There was no point trying to communicate until she grew up a little. Maki could've played nice and flattered her, but… where was the fun in that?
Watching Tsunade get flustered was far more satisfying.
As Maki and Naori disappeared from view, Orochimaru left too—without a word. He didn't follow them, though. Despite being curious about Maki, he was still too shy and innocent.
But he did want to see it for himself—just how far behind he was compared to the "genius" his teacher spoke of.
Tsunade was left alone, teeth grinding in frustration.
Now, only Jiraiya and Hitomi Hyuga remained.
Jiraiya rubbed the back of his head, clearly embarrassed, and glanced at Hyuga Hitomi.
"…What are you looking at?" he muttered.
Hitomi said nothing. Jiraiya scowled, turned away, and walked off, still rubbing his head.
"Girls really don't get it…" he mumbled to himself.
Hitomi wanted to catch up to Maki and Naori—they were all in the same class now, after all. It wasn't strange to hang out together. But still… saying something first felt important.
No matter what she said, though, Maki would probably just ignore her.
That thought made Hitomi slow down, hesitating.
"How on earth did Naori become friends with that girl, Maki…?"
As she nervously trailed behind them, Hitomi felt like she just couldn't bring herself to approach. In the end, she sighed and turned back the other way, heading home with dragging steps.
"I'll just train. If I train hard enough, I'll forget all about this…!"
Then she remembered—Grandma Mito had planned something for tomorrow. A little outing.
Her mood lifted. Her pace picked up again.
---
Meanwhile, Maki and Naori were wandering through the Forbidden Forest.
Well, mostly it was Maki shopping—gathering herbs, seeds, and insect samples—while Naori silently followed behind.
Suddenly, a figure darted out from the underbrush and flew straight toward Maki.
She sidestepped calmly, watching as Kiko—the insect girl—tumbled into the soft grass.
Kiko sprang up immediately and shouted something excitedly at Maki, then opened her mouth toward her.
Because of her viewing angle and the Maki's mask-like hood, Naori didn't see what was happening inside.
"What's she doing?" Naori asked curiously.
"Nothing." Maki replied flatly and stepped forward, placing a hand on Kiko's head.
The insect girl leaned into her touch and hugged her tightly.
Naori frowned a little. She hadn't seen this girl many times before, but there was always something… odd about her.
Maki gently pushed Kiko away and issued a few quick commands. The girl obediently pulled back.
"She's really not comfortable to hold… her exoskeleton's too hard," Maki thought, slightly annoyed. "And that strange behavior just now..."
It reminded her of something.
Many animals engage in food-sharing behaviors—elephants, birds, monkeys… even humans.
In particular, ants. They're highly social and specialized: some gather food, others stay in the nest, relying entirely on their sisters to feed them mouth-to-mouth. It's incredibly efficient. It ensures the food is safe and allows the colony to function smoothly.
Even humans do it. Feeding someone is one of the most intimate acts imaginable. In the wild, food is precious. To give yours away… it's a gesture of deep connection.
Lovers feeding each other is just the surface of that instinct.
"Giving someone your best…"
But with Kiko, it was unclear what her gesture meant.
She wasn't asking to be fed.
She was offering to feed Maki.
Depending on what she had stored inside, the flavor could vary—sometimes it was digested food, but more often, it was honeydew, a sweet substance secreted after feeding on buds, twigs, and flowers.
She liked it. Stored it in bulk.
Maki had observed her for a long time. The more she learned, the stranger it all seemed.
Kiko herself was a mystery.
Strictly speaking, she was two entities in one.
The first: a human core encased in an insect-like exoskeleton—the mind and behavior controller.
The second: the exoskeleton itself. A symbiotic insect? A living armor with no thoughts of its own? Just instincts?
Probably.
Classifying her was tricky.
But Maki had a word for it.
"Forced-breeding armor. Super-organism weapon."
That's what Kiko was.
And Maki had her own definition of superorganisms:
A superorganism is a lifeform that has evolved beyond the ordinary. Normal creatures evolve to survive—birds for the sky, fish for the sea, beasts for the land. They become what the environment demands of them. No choices. Just survival.
But superorganisms evolve to the extreme for a singular purpose. They specialize so far that they lose the ability to adapt. They can't survive in the wild—too brittle, too dependent. Like parasites. Like weapons. Made to be used, not to live.
Kiko fit that mold perfectly.
An ultimate tool. A lifeform honed not for survival—but for devotion.
___________________
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