A Shinobi of Paradis Chapter 8 (An Ackerman Girl) (Patreon)

"Why they're not home yet?!" exclaimed Naruto, his voice filled with a mix of worry and impatience. Restless, he paced back and forth in the spacious common room, his steps echoing loudly against the polished wooden floor. With each stride, his hands clenched tightly behind his head, a gesture of frustration.

The weight of his concerns seemed to intensify with every creaking sound produced by the floor beneath his feet, amplifying the tension in the room.

"You know how Eren is, he probably is getting a lecture from your father," As the clock ticked into the late hours of the night, Carla found herself nestled on the plush sofa of the common room, her voice oozing with a soothing cadence as she attempted to assuage her son's growing concerns. Deep down, she couldn't hide her own worry, for Eren and Grisha had yet to return, leaving her heart in a state of unease. With every passing moment, her mind conjured up vivid scenarios. Naruto had grown restless, his determination fueling multiple attempts to venture out into the unknown, convinced that his extraordinary abilities would guide him to their whereabouts.

In a flurry of urgency, Carla's voice resonated through the air, commanding Naruto to take refuge within the safety of their home, her words laced with a hint of fear and concern. With a sense of urgency, she brought forth the unsettling truth that Hannes was out there tirelessly searching for them.

Naruto couldn't help but protest and pout, his youthful impatience bubbling to the surface. However, after careful consideration, he reluctantly acquiesced to his mother's plea, deciding to heed her advice and remain confined within the walls of their abode for a little while longer. Little did he know that the concept of "a bit longer" would swiftly transform into an excruciating three-hour wait, each passing minute stretching his patience to its absolute limit. The longing to find them gnawed at Naruto's heart, fueling his desire to take matters into his own hands and venture out into the unknown.

As Naruto stood on the precipice of announcing his intention to venture outdoors in search of Eren and his father, a sudden symphony of creaking hinges echoed through the air, capturing the attention of both him and his mother. With synchronized anticipation, their heads swiveled toward the source of the noise, their eyes locking onto the figure that materialized before them: Grisha, Eren, and an unknown girl.

An exuberant surge of elation coursed through Naruto's veins like a blazing inferno, illuminating his face with an effervescent glow as he beheld the sight of his beloved elder brother and revered father, unharmed and unscathed. In a whirlwind of emotions, his heart propelled him forward, impelling his legs to propel him effortlessly into the embrace of his brother and father.

With an exuberant burst of pure ecstasy and immense relief, Naruto's voice thundered through the air, resonating with the intensity of a thousand crashing waves, "You're back!" As the words escaped his lips, Naruto couldn't help but feel as though an immense burden, heavy and suffocating, was finally lifted from his weary shoulders, leaving him with a newfound sense of liberation.

His arms instinctively wrapped around his father's waist, seeking solace and connection, only to be met with an unexpected absence of shared joy. A flicker of concern danced in Naruto's eyes as he gazed up at his father, whose countenance bore a haunting grimness, a stark contrast to the jubilant emotions coursing through Naruto's veins.

At that moment, Naruto's attention shifted to Eren, whose expression mirrored his own disquietude. And then, his gaze found its way to the unknown girl standing beside Eren. As their eyes locked in a profound encounter, a sudden tremor of fear seized her delicate frame, forcing her to instinctively recoil, taking a hesitant step backward.

As Naruto's bewildered voice trembled with curiosity, he eagerly blurted out a series of urgent questions, desperately seeking answers. "W-what happened? Who is she? Why is-" "Naruto!" However, before he could finish his inquiries, Naruto's anxious voice was abruptly silenced by the stern tone of his father, Grisha, who called him with an authoritative command. At that moment, a mixture of disappointment and remorse washed over Naruto as he swiftly averted his gaze, overwhelmed by the weight of his father's reprimand.

"I'm sorry," With a voice barely audible, Naruto's apology seeped from his lips, accompanied by a heavy air of remorse. He stood there, his gaze fixed on the ground, his eyes tracing the patterns of his own uncertainty. It was in this moment of vulnerability that Eren, astutely attuned to his brother's emotional state, swiftly enveloped him in a tight embrace, a gesture brimming with unspoken support. Mikasa, her curiosity piqued, observed the scene before her with a mix of perplexity and intrigue. Who was this Naruto? His presence alone seemed to ignite a flicker of familiarity within her, evoking memories of her own mother's tender embrace, infused with an abundance of familial love that lingered in her heart.

A grown woman, her countenance etched with worry, approached them in haste, interrupting the weight of Mikasa's introspection. The woman's face, pale and strained, revealed the depth of her concern. Carla felt her heart race within her chest as if it were a wild creature confined within a cage.

"Eren, Naruto," Grisha began, his voice barely above a whisper, " Mikasa is tired, take her upstairs, give her new clothes to wear, and bring her food," As he spoke, Grisha graciously removed his hat, a gesture of deference that conveyed the solemnity of the situation. The trio crossed the threshold of the house, guided by Grisha's gentle hand.

With a gentle placement upon the sturdy kitchen table, Grisha laid his hat down, signifying the temporary suspension of his duties. "Remain upstairs," he advised, his voice infused with a directive yet tender tone. "Until you're called down. I have to talk with your mother."

With heavy hearts burdened by weariness, Eren and Naruto exchanged weary nods. They gently clasped the delicate hand of the little girl. Together, they ascended the creaking, rickety stairs, each step echoing through the air. As the trio ascended, their soft footsteps gradually dissipated into the silence, leaving Grisha alone in the dimly lit kitchen.

Collapsing onto one of the weathered chairs that adorned the worn wooden table, he sank into the depths of exhaustion. His calloused fingers weaved through his unkempt hair as if attempting to unravel the weight of the world that rested heavily upon him. A deep sigh escaped his lips, carrying with it the burdens of a lifetime. The soft glow of the lamplight cast dancing shadows across Grisha's weary face, accentuating the lines etched by countless sleepless nights and endless struggles. At this moment, he appeared older and more weathered than Carla had ever witnessed before.

"What happened?" Carla asked, her voice filled with concern as she gracefully took the seat opposite her husband. The room was dimly lit, casting a somber atmosphere, while Carla's eyes searched for answers. "You were supposed to be seeing the Ackermans, right?" Her tone wavered with a mix of confusion and worry. Leaning forward, she continued, "How come...how come Eren looks like he's been hurt, and..." Her words trailed off, leaving an unspoken question lingering in the air, thick with suspense.

With a heavy sigh, Grisha interrupted, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. The weight of the world seemed to rest upon his shoulders as he struggled to find the right words. "We did go to see the Ackermans," he finally admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

As he stood there, his mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, he hesitated momentarily, desperately trying to find the perfect arrangement of words that would adequately convey the grave news he was about to disclose. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, and the silence was deafening as he grappled with the enormity of the task before him.

"But, unfortunately," he finally managed to utter, his voice tinged with sorrow and disbelief, "unfortunately, we found that Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman had been killed, probably less than a couple hours before we arrived." The words lingered, pregnant with an unsettling tension that seemed to permeate the very atmosphere of the room. Carla, wide-eyed and overcome with a mix of confusion and horror, could only stammer in response.

"But, but, who? How?" Her voice trembled, mirroring the trembling of her hands as she clasped them together in a futile attempt to steady her racing thoughts. As her mind raced to connect the dots and make sense of the inexplicable, she couldn't help but wonder how this revelation was intertwined with Eren's injuries.

"When we saw Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman's bodies in their home, I told Eren to wait for me while I contacted the Military Police, but he didn't listen to me. Somehow, like I said, he found where Mikasa had been taken to. It wasn't too far from their home."

Carla could feel her stomach churn with a mix of anxiety and dread, reluctant to delve into the horrifying possibilities that awaited her imagination. Observing the weariness etched deeply into Grisha's weary face, she couldn't help but silently offer her gratitude for Eren's safe return, understanding the immense risks he had taken to find Mikasa.

"He had some...crazy idea in his head that he had to do something to help her." Without missing a beat, Grisha continued, "He killed two of the men who'd taken her. Stabbed them to death." Caught between shock and disbelief, she found herself grappling with an array of emotions. Her own flesh and blood, her son, had killed people. The gravity etched upon Grisha's countenance left no room for doubt; her son had indeed committed this unthinkable act. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to cascade down her cheeks, yet she valiantly brushed them away, determined to maintain a facade of strength, even in the face of profound devastation.

In the tranquil ambiance of the room, Grisha found himself lost in contemplation while his eyes remained fixed on her delicate features. The weight of his thoughts hung heavy in the air, causing a profound silence to envelop the space around them. After a few moments of introspection, Grisha's voice finally broke through the stillness, resonating with a touch of tenderness and concern.

"You should prepare a bath for Mikasa. I'm sure she'd appreciate being able to clean up after this ordeal. I'll go upstairs and talk with Eren and Naruto." he suggested, his words laced with genuine empathy. With a graceful motion, Grisha rose from his seat, his weariness momentarily forgotten as he extended his hand across the table.

His fingers gently intertwined with Carla's, their touch radiating a sense of unwavering support and love. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face and the weight of the day's events pressing upon his shoulders, his demeanor remained remarkably composed and tranquil.As he squeezed her hands reassuringly, the strength in his touch conveyed a comforting warmth that enveloped Carla's entire being. It was a silent exchange of solace and understanding, an unspoken promise that they would weather any storm together. With a soft sigh, Grisha reluctantly released his hold on Carla's hands, his departure to the upper floor shrouded in a veil of silence.

As Grisha bid his farewell and departed, the girl cautiously descended the stairs, her gaze filled with suspicion as it locked onto Carla. Intrigued by Grisha's suggestion, Carla resolved to act upon it, rising gracefully from the kitchen table and retrieving the hidden treasure beneath the sink cupboard - a quaint tin bathtub. With deliberate care, she unfurled a weathered, oversized towel upon the floor, creating a makeshift canvas for the forthcoming endeavor. Placing the tub gingerly upon the fabric's expanse. Elevating a trusty bucket into the sink basin, she rhythmically operated the pump, the cascading water filling the receptacle drop by drop until its brim was reached, at which point she deftly poured the contents into the awaiting tub, the soft ripples dancing on the surface.

In the dimly lit kitchen, Mikasa's uneasiness was palpable as she stood hesitantly beside the worn wooden table, her delicate fingers tightly gripping a bundle of clothes to her chest. Among the garments, Carla's discerning eyes caught sight of an old, threadbare shirt that once belonged to Eren and a pair of trousers he had long outgrown, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia within her. Despite the weight of these reminders, Mikasa found solace in the warmth that enveloped her neck, courtesy of Eren's cherished scarf, which still remained faithfully wrapped around her.

Sensing Mikasa's internal struggle, Carla's voice broke through the silence, her tone gentle yet resolute. "Mikasa, dear, why don't you come and take a seat here?" With a graceful gesture, she beckoned Mikasa towards the inviting chair stationed by the table. "You can rest while I prepare the soothing bath for you. Would that be alright with you?"

In a hushed manner, Mikasa acknowledged her comprehension by nodding, her eyes reflecting her understanding as she accepted the proffered seat. Settling into the chair, she observed Carla's actions with a lackluster gaze, her eyes dulled by a mixture of weariness and detachment.

Carla's hands deftly filled the tub with water, her grip on the bundle of clothes remaining tight and unwavering. Gradually, the tub reached its desired capacity, prompting Carla to place the bucket aside, and its duty was fulfilled. Mikasa's gaze flickered uncertainly towards the tub; her mind filled with a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. However, with a delicate touch of reassurance, Carla managed to coax her out of her hesitation, urging her to shed her soiled garments and gingerly lower herself into the inviting waters of the tub.

.

.

With a heavy heart, Carla cast a lingering gaze upon the three children, their innocent faces etched in her memory. The weight of responsibility settled upon her shoulders as she exhaled a weary sigh, reluctantly tearing herself away from the bittersweet scene. Making her way through the dimly lit hallway, she reached the sanctuary of the bedroom, where a single flickering oil lamp graced the bedside table, casting a warm glow upon the room. In the midst of this intimate ambiance, Grisha sat perched on the edge of the bed, engrossed in the pages of a weathered leather-bound book. His eyes darted across the text, devouring the knowledge contained within. Sensing Carla's presence, he lifted his gaze, eyes brimming with anticipation. As Carla entered the room, the creaking sound of the closing door resonated. She delicately placed the book beside the lamp.

"How is Mikasa?"

"She's asleep," Carla answered.

Naruto

As he slept on his bed, Naruto couldn't help but dream of the strange faces carved into the mountaintops.

But one thing that struck him was the image of a woman, a woman with flowing red hair. Naruto didn't know why, but when she appeared, the feeling of warmth spread in his heart like a fire. Naruto slept with a bright smile on his face.