The woman let out a low growl the moment she heard the little girl's chatter. To her, this situation made no sense at all. Failing to react to the attack of a mere child was something she had never once imagined.
Too fast. Far too fast. She had not even managed to catch a glimpse of the girl's silhouette before the child appeared right in front of her, and a strike landed squarely against her abdomen in a way that felt utterly humiliating.
Since the first moment she took possession of a human body, this was the first time she had been disgraced. By a little girl, one whose bones she should have been able to snap with ease. Yet the reality before her had turned completely against that expectation.
The blow from that small palm was rough and heavy, leaving a throbbing pain along her side that spread inward, reaching deep into her organs.
As a low-ranked ghost, she was, in truth, rather fortunate. She could possess a human without destroying the vessel through the burden of negative energy. The first time she fully touched the physical world, without passing through living or lifeless things, the sensation had nearly intoxicated her. It was unfamiliar, yet deeply addictive.
Yet such fortune demanded a price.
She could no longer raise her rank by absorbing negative energy or mana from her surroundings. The human vessel bound her. The only way to survive and grow was to consume the life energy of humans.
It was different from before, when she only needed to draw in the scattered negative energy lingering around the village. Now, the sensation of absorbing life force was far more intoxicating. More satisfying. More... alive.
Her mind grew clearer. Calmer. Sharper.
Especially the energy that came from children. Pure, delicate, and stable. It helped suppress the corrosion of negative energy that constantly gnawed at her sanity.
And the two children standing before her now…
Within their bodies flowed an immense amount of life energy.
Almost comparable to that of a healthy adult. Yet to find such abundance within children, such fortune was nearly beyond imagination.
This day should have been greatly favorable to her.
And yet, everything felt wrong.
The impact from that little girl had forced her to face a bitter truth.
She raised her head, her eyes filled with fury, and spat out her curse.
"Ghastly little wretch..."
Charlotte let out a soft chuckle. She rather enjoyed that insult. The more agitated the woman became, the clearer it was that her strike had truly hurt.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes as the woman slowly rose, her body adjusting from where it had been sprawled upon the ground. Her movements were still heavy, yet her gaze had regained its sharp and feral edge.
Charlotte sneered without hesitation.
"Remember this, foul-smelling aunt. Speak ill of my father again, and these unbeaten fists of mine will greet you once more."
"Such a filthy mouth. I shall tear it wide and fill it with stones."
The woman pressed a hand against her abdomen where the blow had landed, her face tightening as she endured the pain.
"What a stench. Aunt must not have bathed for weeks. Even my fair hands have been soiled by it."
Charlotte waved her hand before her nose, her expression deliberately filled with disgust.
"You...!"
Though she had previously managed to restrain the surge of negative emotion with the life energy she had absorbed, this time was different. The irritation deliberately provoked shattered the control she had built.
The corrosion of negative energy surged back into her mind.
Her face flushed red. Her teeth clenched so tightly that a faint grinding sound could be heard. Her eyes widened, as if they might burst from their sockets.
Charlotte immediately leapt aside on instinct as the woman lunged like a beast, her hand reaching out in an attempt to seize her throat.
Charlotte grinned, then threw another taunt.
"Foul aunt, now you strike like a hound. How disgraceful, leaping about without sense."
The woman gave no reply. She continued her assault wildly, leaping without pattern, without control.
Charlotte evaded with ease.
To the young girl, the movements of this woman, who had already lost her reason, were far too easy to read. Even slow.
She was accustomed to this.
She had trained with her father. She had witnessed how he moved, swift, precise, and without openings.
James had taught her the basics of combat in a manner she could easily grasp. Beyond that, when she was first introduced to the precise control of chakra throughout her body, Charlotte had displayed an unusual aptitude.
Especially in her legs.
She had yet to fully master advanced movement techniques such as Shunsin no Jutsu, yet her speed had already reached the level of a Genin.
Charlotte learned swiftly. She mimicked with precision.
Even James himself had to admit that his daughter's intellect and comprehension stood at an extraordinary level.
He did not yet know which legacy of power she had inherited from the Uchiha bloodline. Whether it came from Kisame's companion, or from Hashirama's ally.
Yet judging from the speed at which she learned, it was likely something far from ordinary.
While continuing to evade and gradually draw her opponent away from where her younger brother lay, Charlotte finally bent her legs.
Then she leapt.
"Above you, foul aunt."
Thud.
Her small foot struck the woman's head with force, sending her crashing down against the ground.
Charlotte landed lightly, then stepped back several paces.
She fell silent for a moment, thinking.
Should I simply burn her? But Father and Mother would surely be angered if she dies.
The woman groaned in pain. Her head throbbed violently from the impact. Her face was now covered in bruises, blood flowing from her nose and mixing with the dirt clinging to her dull skin.
Her appearance had worsened further.
Yet her eyes remained filled with hatred as she stared at the little girl before her.
Charlotte did not falter and returned the gaze with even greater sharpness.
"Why do you look at me like that? Shall I cleanse you with my sacred flames?"
She thought of how to bring the woman down completely. Her conviction only grew stronger that this woman was no good, and that the choice she had made from the very beginning had been the right one.
Yet to truly subdue that madwoman until she could no longer move proved far more difficult than she had imagined.
The woman's movements remained full of force, wild, and without any sign of fatigue. As though her stamina never diminished in the slightest.
There was one thing that truly irritated Charlotte.
The smell.
The stench coming from the woman was so sharp it stung her nose, even worse than the pigsty owned by their family.
Charlotte slipped aside once more, then retaliated with blow after blow. She could no longer recall how many strikes had landed.
Too many.
Yet each time the woman's body took a hit in various places, she would rise again. Leaping, lunging, growing more feral with each passing moment.
Gradually, the feeling began to change.
At first, Charlotte felt as though she were striking a training dummy. Now, it felt as though she herself had become bait, unknowingly tempering her opponent.
Charlotte began to tire.
While her opponent did not.
Rather than weakening, the woman only grew more savage. What had once resembled a wild hound now seemed closer to a starving wolf.
Fierce.
Charlotte drew in a heavy breath.
"Foul aunt, may I rest for a moment? I am weary."
Thud.
Another kick struck the woman's shin, sending her collapsing face-first into the ground.
"You truly are an unpleasant woman. You will not even heed a child such as myself."
She muttered in irritation, yet her expression slowly shifted.
Though the woman moved like a wild beast, it did not mean she had lost all sense.
Her target began to change.
Like a predator that had found weaker prey, instinct and what remained of her awareness aligned toward a new purpose.
Ian Wieser.
Ian stiffened as he realized the woman, who had been some distance away before, was now staring directly at him with a strange glint in her eyes.
His feet stepped back slowly. His instincts screamed at him to move away.
Yet he stopped.
His sister was still there.
Still pressing the attack against that madwoman.
"Stop! You mad creature, where do you think you are going!"
His elder sister's voice rang out, sharp with annoyance as she noticed the shift in target.
Charlotte attacked again, yet this time was different.
Her strike landed.
The woman rose again.
But in that brief lapse, a returning slap struck Charlotte, sending her small body flying backward.
Ian's thoughts fell into disarray. His heart pounded violently.
He wanted to run forward and help his sister. The urge rose within him without restraint.
Yet the woman's gaze was fixed upon him.
He was afraid.
His feet moved back on their own.
Thud.
Charlotte cursed inwardly. She had underestimated her opponent.
That strike had sent her crashing down, her body hitting the ground hard, pain shooting through her as she landed.
She had no time to complain.
Both hands pushed against the ground at once, forcing her body back up by instinct alone.
Pain flared along both her arms, yet she forced herself to rise.
When she turned—
The woman was already staring intently at Ian.
Everything seemed to slow.
Each movement of the woman became clear before her eyes. The woman's legs bent, preparing to step forward.
A step that could take her brother's life.
A shift.
One step.
Then two.
Then three.
A frantic cry burst from Charlotte's small lips.
"Stop! Stop!"
There was no response.
As though the woman were deaf.
"I said stop, you foul aunt!"
Still no answer.
Charlotte saw Ian continuing to retreat, while the woman had already closed half the distance between them.
Her heart raced faster still.
So fast that each beat felt as though it struck against her chest.
Her breathing grew ragged, every breath heavy and painful.
She stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Yet the distance felt far too great.
Her body was beginning to run out of strength.
For the first time in her life, her emotions erupted.
The feeling was suffocating, far too great for a child of her age to bear.
Time, which had seemed to slow before, shifted once more.
Fear and anger intertwined, filling her entirely.
She was furious.
Utterly furious.
The image of her younger brother being torn apart by that madwoman flashed vividly within her mind.
And in that instant—
Her world changed.
The colors around her began to fade, losing their meaning.
Red.
Only red remained.
That color consumed everything within her sight.
The world turned red.
The woman's movements… grew slower.
Charlotte's body moved.
Not by thought, but by instinct.
The neurons within her mind processed everything without her awareness. She recalled her father's teachings, one of the basic techniques she had yet to fully master.
And yet now—
It felt as though she had already grasped it completely.
Her body flickered.
Vanishing from where she stood.
"I told you to stop, you ugly aunt!"
----
"Red?"
So this is how it is.
No wonder the world appears different.
Yet Charlotte paid it no mind.
Not because she failed to notice, but because her fear for her brother's safety far outweighed everything else.
The change in her eyes… did not matter now.
What she felt was exhaustion.
Far greater than before.
Even heavier than when she had continuously struck the woman who now lay unconscious before her.
All her strength felt drained away.
Her brother's voice reached her faintly.
"Sister..."
Charlotte gave no reply.
Sleep came suddenly.
Thud.
Her body fell.
Her consciousness vanished before she even touched the ground.
Another voice echoed near her, yet she could no longer hear it.
"Sister! Sister!"
Ian cried out in panic as he saw his sister collapse without warning.
Everything had happened too quickly. He had not even managed to catch her.
Panic filled him.
And that woman… she could awaken at any moment.
What should I do?
Calm.
He remembered something.
"Father said it well… I must remain calm in any situation."
He reached out with both hands, supporting his sister's body, then slowly began to carry her.
Toward home.
Each step felt heavy, as though an unseen weight pressed upon his shoulders.
What was it?
Worry.
Clear and undeniable, it lingered within his thoughts. Their father was likely still within the village settlement.
He had not yet returned.
Ian feared the madwoman might rise and pursue them. Who could restrain such madness? Their mother and younger brother at home… they were in danger.
Yet what choice did he have?
None.
Other than to keep moving toward home, supporting his unconscious sister.
Ian began to think of an explanation.
A reasonable one for when they arrived.
Their mother would surely panic upon seeing them, especially in the state his sister was in.
He could not possibly claim that she had merely fainted from excessive training.
The scratches along her arms, the bruises from enduring that woman's strikes…
If not for the reinforcement of chakra within her body, such blows would have been enough to break bones that were still soft and not yet fully formed.
Ian might not fully understand how that energy worked.
But he knew one thing.
He would not be able to explain all these injuries.
Not to mention the dark red bruises that marked the backs of her fingers and knuckles.
Irene was not someone easily deceived.
She would never believe that all of this came from mere training.
What kind of training would leave such severe bruising upon the back of her daughter's hands? She would already know it was no simple exercise. Even if it were, had her daughter been striking wood until such terrible marks appeared so clearly?
And above all—
Her daughter had fainted.
And it had happened for the first time, without James present.
Two children who had left after asking permission to play behind the house, merely to fulfill the promise they had made earlier at the dining table.
And now they returned in such a state.
One filled with panic.
The other fast asleep in a wretched condition.
Truly…
Such devoted children.