[Jūryoku Ume]

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Make your man call me mommy

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The spring sun blazed unusually hot that day, compelling Ume to shield her eyes behind her pink, round sunglasses as she scrutinized the training grounds. Despite the glare, her attire remained impeccable—a mint cheongsam, elegantly high-necked and daringly short below the bust, paired with flowing white trousers adorned with delicate embroidery that traced her neck and shoulders. [break][break]



Ume took a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a thoughtful sigh. Her patience was thinning. "Where is this girl?" she muttered, her fingers tightly clutching Kisei Sachi’s file. She wasn’t late yet, but she wasn’t particularly early either. The girl, a blend of two lesser clans—Nakahara and Kisei—hardly piqued her interest; they were not known for their might or influence. Yet, the young shinobi’s aspiration in the medical arts had caught Ume's attention. Perhaps there’s utility in her knowledge of plants, Ume had to admit, her mind calculating the potential benefits.
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The file bore a photo of Sachi, her pink hair and bright blue eyes staring back at her. Ume’s lips pursed slightly; field medicine required strength, not just skill. She is vulnerable, a liability in battle, Ume assessed critically. Though protection wasn't today’s lesson, the girl needed to learn—survival was paramount. Today, however, they would focus solely on harnessing her medical talents.

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Behind her, a water cooler baked under the sun, large fish swimming languidly. The water had begun to reek faintly of algae and stagnation. Practical human subjects, or even different creatures, would have been ideal, her gaze returning to the cooler. But for now, these fish must suffice. Ume was avoiding being blamed for unnecessary cruelty.


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With a final glance at the sky, Ume crushed her cigarette beneath her heel and straightened her posture, her silhouette casting a long, imposing shadow across the training ground.

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