Naruto: We Agreed on a Simulation, But They Actually Came to Life?

Chapter 126: Chapter 126: She Doesn’t Believe It

Kirigakure saw a rare clear day.

Kitahara Kaede stood at the village entrance and looked back.

At the street corner, several shinobi were gathered around the bulletin board, whispering among themselves about the newly posted reburial list. An elderly man carrying a vegetable basket strolled slowly past them, and a fishmonger had already set up his stall. A child dashed out from an alley, nearly knocking over a crate of fish, earning a few laughing scoldings from the owner.

It was different from when he first arrived in Kirigakure. Back then, no one on the streets dared to spare another person a second glance.

Kaede withdrew his gaze.

He had calculated it all. From the moment he laid the line to the moment the news reached Genji and the Intelligence Department cross-referenced the results, it wouldn’t take more than three days. Today should be the day.

"Kitahara, let’s go," a Kirigakure shinobi urged from behind.

Kaede turned and followed. As the three of them walked along the road leading out of the village, one of the shinobi remarked with a sigh, "Have you noticed? The village has really changed. Even the mission rewards have jumped a grade."

"Very true," the one in front replied. "Changing the graduation exams, abolishing the bloodline purge, even erecting new headstones for those who were wrongfully killed... Lady Terumi Mei is truly incredible. If she becomes the Mizukage, Kirigakure will only get better and better."

Listening from the back, Kaede remained silent. He looked up at the sky. The mist had cleared, and the sun had come out.

It was quite nice.

***

Inside the village, Terumi Mei walked along the stone-paved street.

A patrolling Chunin spotted her from a distance and jogged over to greet her. "Good morning, Lady Terumi Mei!"

Mei nodded and gave a small smile. As she continued forward, the owner of a fish shop waved at her. "Lady Terumi Mei! The Pacific saury is fresh today!"

"Thank you, I’ll come back for some later."

These kinds of interactions had become increasingly common lately. Genji was essentially paving the way for her in plain sight. Reforming the system, her positioning in public events, and her eligibility to attend high-level meetings—everything was leaning in her direction. She could see it clearly.

Mei turned into an alley, heading toward Kaede’s residence. She planned to take him to the training grounds today and then invite him back to her place for dinner. She had recently practiced a few new dishes, all of which were his favorites.

At the thought, the corners of her mouth curled upward. Although Kaede was still as cold as ever, speaking to everyone in the same monotonous tone, she could feel that he treated her differently.

When she worked late into the night at the office handling government affairs, he would make a special trip just to ask if she had eaten, leaving a dinner portion on the corner of her desk. And then there was that time on the commercial street. She had helped him pick up a seasoning packet, and as she handed it to him, their hands brushed.

His hand, contrary to his attitude, was warm. She had frozen for two seconds, unable to react. He hadn’t pulled away either; he simply looked down at her hand, his expression unchanging. In the end, it was she who couldn’t take it, her ears burning as she was the first to let go.

Walking through the alley and thinking about these things, Mei’s steps felt lighter. February eleventh. She had already decided. She would cook him a feast that day. Once they finished eating, she would make things clear between them.

The village was improving. And so were things between her and him.

As Mei turned the corner of the alley, she looked up. Midori was standing there.

Mei immediately noticed Midori’s face. It wasn’t his usual professional demeanor. His lips were pressed thin, and his brow was deeply furrowed.

The smile vanished from Mei’s face. "What happened?"

"Lord Genji has an urgent matter for you," Midori paused. "Now."

"Did something happen in the village?"

Midori did not answer directly. "Lord Genji will tell you himself."

The lightness in Mei’s heart vanished. She nodded and followed Midori’s pace, the two of them walking toward the administrative building.

***

The office door pushed open.

Two reports were spread across the desk. Genji sat behind it, his cane resting by his knee, his eyelids half-closed. Mei entered and offered a formal greeting.

Genji did not speak. Mei walked up to the desk.

Genji opened his eyes. Mei had never seen him look at her with such an expression. Within those old eyes lay a layer of something she couldn’t quite read.

"Sit."

Mei sat down. Genji pushed the report on the left toward her.

"Do you remember? A few years ago, there was an ANBU member in the village who was officially reported as killed in action during a mission."

Mei thought for a moment and nodded.

"He didn’t die on a mission," Genji’s voice was slow and measured. "At the time, the culprit couldn’t be found. Fearing it would cause chaos in the village, it was suppressed as a death in the line of duty."

Mei took the report. It contained the ANBU member’s basic information and the details of the incident. The location of death was near the coastline. The individual had not accepted any mission upon leaving the village and was eventually found dead near the shore.

The last line of the report noted: *Prior to death, the subject had contact with a Chunin at the mission desk.*

After reading, Mei put the report down and waited for Genji to continue. Genji picked up the second report but did not hand it over immediately.

"A few days ago, the deceased’s family received an anonymous letter." His finger pressed against the cover of the report. "After reading the letter, the family re-examined the belongings and found a fragmented investigation record. The conclusion in that record was that a foreign spy had likely been in the village for a long time."

Mei’s spine stiffened.

"The Intelligence Department took the behavioral patterns, entry time, activity areas, and solo mission routes from that record and performed a new cross-reference." Genji pushed the second report in front of her. "Although the news was intercepted immediately, it has already spread to some extent within the village. You can’t keep a secret forever."

Mei reached out and took it. She flipped it open.

Records of missions taken along the coastline. Overlapping timeframes with the dead ANBU’s investigation route. The frequency and periodic distribution of trips outside the village.

She flipped through the pages, her speed remaining steady. Then, she reached the final page.

The conclusion.

A name was written at the bottom.

Kitahara Kaede.

Mei’s finger stopped. She stared at those three characters. Her mind went blank. Her eyes were seeing them, but the meaning wouldn’t sink in. Those three characters were just characters; they didn’t connect to the person she knew.

After a few seconds, she heard herself speak.

"Impossible."

Her voice was more strained than she intended. She had even forgotten the level of decorum she was supposed to maintain in front of Genji.

"Lord Genji, he isn’t."

She couldn’t provide a reason. She couldn’t bring those personal matters to this table. She couldn’t say how many years he had taught her, how he had stood by her during the darkest days of the Bloody Mist, or what he had blocked or pushed aside for her sake.

She could only force her voice to remain steady. "I cannot give you a reason, but he absolutely cannot be a spy."

Genji did not scold her, nor did he reach a final verdict. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "Then, has he never done anything that seemed strange to you?"

Suddenly, a flood of memories rushed into Mei’s mind.

His strength—he was stronger than any Chunin she had ever seen, and he was not inferior to most Jonin. She had asked him more than once why he didn’t take the Jonin exam. Every time, he had deflected the question.

The matter with Fuguki. Every crucial lead had seemed to come from a casual, offhand comment he had made.

Yagura being controlled. From the day the Fourth Mizukage took office, it was as if he already knew there would be a problem. Every time she pressed him on how he knew, he simply said, "I just happened to see it."

At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it.

A Seed of Doubt

Or rather, she didn’t want to dwell on it.

She remembered that evening when she had asked him what he intended to do once the village improved.

He had remained silent for a long time.

"We’ll talk about that the day the village is truly better."

At the time, she had felt a flicker of disappointment, but she had also sensed something beneath his words. She simply chose not to pursue the thought.

Terumi Mei pushed those memories down.

"I didn’t."

Genji looked at her. He held her gaze for a long while.

He didn’t expose her. He could clearly read the turbulence in Terumi Mei’s emotions, but he had spent years maneuvering her into her current position. After Yagura’s fall, she was the only one capable of sustaining Kirigakure.

At this critical juncture, if she were dragged down by accusations of having an "unclear relationship with a suspected spy," the entire foundation he had built would collapse. He could not let her fall.

After a long silence, he spoke.

"The Intelligence Department is still investigating the matter."

Genji’s tone returned to its usual, unhurried pace. "Do not interfere privately before the results are out."

He paused.

"And do not put your personal feelings above those of the village."

He spoke those last few words very slowly.

Terumi Mei’s fingers tightened on her knee for a moment before relaxing.

"I understand."

"You may go."

Terumi Mei stood and turned to leave. Her footsteps in the corridor sounded no different than usual.

She descended the stairs and walked out of the office building. After a few steps, her pace slowed.

All the thoughts she had just suppressed came rushing back.

His strength, his silences, the things he "just happened" to see every single time. He never spoke of his past.

And then there were the analytical methods he had taught her—the way he dismantled the human psyche and his uncanny, piercing insight into political situations.

How could a mere Chunin possess such abilities?

Terumi Mei stood on the steps, the sun warming her face, yet she felt a sudden chill.

She quickened her pace.

There was no one beneath the crooked tree. A few scattered crumbs of dry rations remained on the ground; the cats hadn’t finished them.

She detoured to Kitahara Kaede’s residence. She knocked, but there was no answer. She knocked again. Still nothing.

The training ground was empty. Terumi Mei stood in the center of the field, surrounded by a heavy silence. A breeze swept through, swirling a circle of sand across the dirt.

She turned and ran toward the Mission Desk.

"Did Kitahara Kaede take a mission today?"

The ninja behind the counter flipped through the registry.

"He took an external mission this morning. He’s already gone."

Terumi Mei stared at the departure time listed in the registry.

This morning. He had left even before Midori had come to see her.

She stood frozen before the counter, her hand resting on the surface. She stared at that single line of text for a long time.

The ninja at the desk glanced up at her but didn’t dare ask any questions.

Terumi Mei finally lifted her hand and walked out.

***

Evening fell.

Terumi Mei returned to the riverbank. The sun had set, leaving only a flickering layer of light dancing upon the water.

A few cats emerged from their nests and trotted over, nudging her calves with their heads.

Terumi Mei knelt. She reached out and stroked the back of a calico cat. The animal purred loudly under her touch. It rubbed against her fingers, then tilted its head to look beside her.

Seeing that the other person wasn’t there, it turned back to nuzzle her.

Terumi Mei watched the cat for a long time. The river flowed beneath her feet, and a cool wind swept across the water.

Her mind was a chaos of contradictions.

But there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty.

She didn’t believe it.