On the street, Saiki happened upon Tsume Inuzuka, who looked as if her soul had been hollowed out.
He led her into a private room of a nearby restaurant.
After ordering several dishes, he noticed she remained utterly silent.
This was a far cry from the woman he knew—the one with the tenacity of a wolf, the boisterous laughter, and that raw, wild energy.
Unsure of what had transpired, Saiki felt a surge of genuine concern for her.
"Sensei Tsume? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Her current state was so fragile that Saiki didn't even dare to use his usual flirtatious tone; he asked with the utmost caution.
Her eyes, usually as sharp and predatory as a wolf's, were now vacant, staring at the tabletop as if most of her spirit had been siphoned away.
Hearing Saiki's tentative voice, Tsume's body gave a nearly imperceptible shudder, as if the sound had pulled her back from the edge of a freezing abyss.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she lifted her head to look at Saiki—this young boy with whom she shared a complicated, illicit bond.
Thinking of her deceased husband, she had initially told herself she was strong and needed no one to lean on.
But the moment her eyes met Saiki's, her shoulders began to heave with uncontrollable tremors.
The suppressed, suffocating grief was like a balloon pricked by a needle; it finally found a way out.
Tears erupted from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks like shattered pearls.
The final dam of her "strength" had been completely swept away.
Tsume didn't understand why she couldn't stop.
She tried to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand, but the harder she scrubbed, the faster they fell.
Seeing her break down so suddenly terrified Saiki.
He scrambled to her side, his voice thick with panic.
"Sensei! Don't cry! What happened? Talk to me!"
Faced with Saiki's desperate concern, she shook her head through the salt and wetness.
"I... I'm fine..."
She looked like anything but "fine."
She was a woman drowning in sorrow, her body reflexively trying to numb the reality of a devastating loss.
Seeing her like this, Saiki's worry deepened into a physical ache.
He reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Sensei... please don't be like this. Tell me... what happened?"
Saiki's voice was a soft whisper.
He wrapped his arms around her shivering frame, stroking her back with a tenderness meant to coax the agony out of her heart.
The embrace of this boy—solid, warm, and carrying that familiar scent—was the final straw.
Tsume's tightly coiled nerves finally snapped.
She could no longer maintain that mask of iron-willed toughness.
She lost the ability to think, leaving only a tidal wave of pain that threatened to tear her apart.
"Ugh..." A broken, suppressed wail escaped her gritted teeth.
Then, like a floodgate bursting, she buried her face into Saiki's shoulder.
Though his frame wasn't broad, it felt like an immovable mountain in that moment.
Her hands gripped the back of his shirt in a white-knuckled vice, her scalding tears instantly soaking through the fabric.
"He's... he's dead..."
Her voice came in gasps and sobs, muffled against his skin.
"The front lines... he was killed... Oh god... my husband... he..."
Every word felt like a jagged hook being dragged from her throat, accompanied by violent, racking sobs.
The sheer weight of her grief and loss hit Saiki like a physical hammer.
He understood instantly.
The somber war report he had seen in Lady Tsunade's office was now manifesting in the cruelest way possible right in his arms.
As a transmigrator, Saiki had always maintained a sense of detachment from the people of this world.
Aside from the few women close to him, everyone else was essentially an NPC in his mind—expendable background characters he could cut down without a second thought.
But at this moment, Tsume's raw, agonizing grief dragged him out of his "player" mindset and slammed him into reality.
These weren't just manga characters.
They were real people with families, friends, and the capacity for total heartbreak.
He couldn't blame himself entirely.
Knowing the future gave him a god-complex, making most of the Shinobi world seem like a script he was merely editing.
His sudden, overwhelming power had stripped him of his reverence for life.
As long as someone threatened him or got in his way, he would erase them without a shred of humanity.
To Saiki, an enemy's life was just a digit on a scoreboard.
But looking at the woman crying herself to death in his arms, his heart felt like it was being squeezed.
While he had aimed to claim Tsume for himself and had even thought it would be easier if her husband were out of the picture, seeing her this broken made him wish the man were still alive.
"Sensei Tsume..."
Saiki's heart tightened.
He subconsciously held her tighter, as if he could physically absorb the pain that was crushing her.
The complexity of their affair only deepened the agony in Tsume's heart.
Saiki's comfort, while needed, also served to highlight the betrayal she had already committed.
"Why... why him...?"
Tsume's voice was filled with a hollow, echoing despair.
She lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen, looking at Saiki with a dazed confusion.
She was looking for an answer that didn't exist.
"We... we were making plans... Hana is still so small... ugh..."
She collapsed again, her forehead resting on his shoulder as she wept with a soul-shattering intensity.
This wasn't just the grief of losing a partner.
It was the terror of the future, the heartache for her daughter, and a scream of protest against the cruelty of fate.
Saiki held her in silence.
He let her tears soak his clothes.
He didn't offer empty platitudes like "I'm sorry" or "It'll be okay."
He simply used the heat of his body and the strength of his arms to tell her she didn't have to face the void alone.
After a long while, her sobs began to subside into heavy, ragged breaths.
Her body continued to tremble with minor aftershocks.
She remained buried against his neck, her voice thick and nasal, but vibrating with a sudden, manic obsession.
"Saiki... Saiki... promise me..."
She looked up, her tear-streaked eyes flashing with a light that made Saiki's skin crawl—a mixture of agonizing sorrow and a mother wolf's bloodlust.
"When you go to the front... find him... FIND HIM AND KILL HIM! Avenge my husband! Rip the man who did this into a thousand pieces!"
Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was saturated with blood and hatred.
Tears were still clinging to her lashes, but the killing intent in her gaze was sharper than any kunai.
Saiki looked at Tsume and felt a whirlwind of emotions.
He had never seen a woman project such extreme duality—total, broken vulnerability combined with a feral, demonic thirst for vengeance.
It was a terrifyingly beautiful, resolute sight.
He didn't know who had struck the killing blow.
But facing those bloodshot, pleading eyes, he nodded with absolute finality.
"I will," he rasped, his voice steady.
"I promise you, Sensei. I will go to the front, I will find him, and I will personally end his life for your husband."
This wasn't just an empty promise to calm her down.
It was a burden he felt he had to carry.
It was his interference in the timeline that had brought this grief to her door ahead of schedule.
Moreover, looking at this strong woman reduced to such a fragile state, a dark, protective possessiveness began to take root in his gut.
Hearing his unwavering vow, Tsume's body seemed to lose its final spark of energy.
She went limp in his arms once more.
She closed her eyes, the last of the hot tears sliding down her face.
This time, however, she wasn't falling into despair; she had found an anchor to hold onto.