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Grandma's Dining Table Is Alive and Judging Me
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 07:03:52 +0000 UTCIn the family wing there were private rooms. The places that weren’t for show. Offices, bedrooms, personal spaces, in essence, it was the heartbeat of the house.
He walked straight through the courtyard with his boots crunching on the pebbled path, past the sapling that still radiated life, and stepped up onto the wooden floorboards of the final side.
The first door he opened was dead center. Wide frame, larger than the others. He slid it open, and the moment he entered, he knew what it was.
The clan leader’s office.
It was obvious from the decor alone. A wide lacquered table sat at the back of the room, slightly elevated. Behind it stood a tall-backed chair, elaborate and definitely uncomfortable-looking, the kind you sit in when you want people to take you seriously.
The whole room was outfitted with furniture that clearly wasn’t normal, sofas, scroll racks, cabinets. But what stood out was that everything was still intact.
Ren raised an eyebrow as he stepped in slowly, looking around.
As he looked around he understood, it wasn’t that the Third and Danzo had decided to leave this untouched out of respect or nostalgia. That was laughable. No, these items were still here because they couldn’t be removed.
He walked up and tapped one of the wooden beams of the bookshelf. His chakra pulsed faintly in return.
“All of it is connected…” he murmured.
Everything in the room was linked to the massive grand array woven into the house. If anyone tried to forcibly take the furniture or dismantle this section, the entire structure would collapse or retaliate. Danzo probably wanted to rip it apart regardless, but Hiruzen must’ve stopped him as it would be too risky and too public. So they left it.
Ren’s eyes swept over the rest of the room. No documents, no drawers, not even a pen. Cleared out clean.
He left the office behind and continued through the wing.
The rooms all had portraits. Paintings framed above the inner alcoves. That made identification stupidly easy.
He passed one room and paused.
Inside, framed proudly on the far wall, was Hashirama Senju and Mito Uzumaki. Beside their portraits were others, family members, children, maybe even caretakers. A full collection.
He moved on and found another room further down, this one colder somehow, but still well-maintained. It belonged to Tobirama. And beside him, a painting of his wife.
Ren stared for a second.
The resemblance was uncanny as she looked just like the woman in the photo he saw back in Utakata’s office of his mother.
He stepped in slowly and found one photo where Tobirama, his grandmother whose name he didn’t know and his mother around 4 or 5 years old.
He then pulled out the old photo of himself and his father on the first day of the academy and compared the grins. His own wide, cocky smirk. His mother’s bright grin in the photo.
‘…Yup. Exactly the same.’
He tilted his head slightly and muttered, “If I grew out my hair, nobody would even be able to tell us apart. I could absolutely pull off ghost haunting tactics.”
The possibilities danced in his head for a few seconds before he forcibly buried them. ‘Later,’ he promised himself.
He checked a few more rooms. Sayaka’s quarters were clearly marked with her pictures, and several others bore pictures he didn’t recognize, likely extended family.
Most of the rooms were empty. The furniture remained, but the owners were gone.
Only one room was locked. A heavy barrier sealed the sliding door, and Ren didn’t even bother trying to bypass it as he guesses that since it was locked then it must be Tsunade’s room.
With that just one room was left.
The final room.
The one his chakra had been pulling him toward since he entered the house.
He stood outside it now. Unlike the others, this one didn’t have a portrait or name tag. It looked ordinary, same style, same frame, same design.
But his chakra pulsed like it was echoing inside this area.
Ren slowly stepped forward and reached for the door.
He didn’t open it immediately. He just stood there for a second, hand on the frame, listening until the door knob was warm under his fingers.
“…Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s see what the fuss is about.”
However, before Ren could open the door, he felt a tiny prick on the back of his hand. He immediately drew his hand back and checked. Just as he guessed, there was a barely noticeable, pin-sized dot of blood where his skin had touched the doorknob.
His gaze flicked to the knob itself, and sure enough, there was a faint smear of blood.
“Hm. Blood recognition?” he muttered, eyes narrowing with interest.
The moment his blood touched the knob, several Fuinjutsu arrays, ones he'd already sensed and ones he didn’t embedded into the frame, began lighting up. The patterns spread like ink in water, pulsing softly with chakra before vanishing again into the wooden grains of the door.
A second later, with the faintest click, the door opened on its own.
Ren’s eyes lit up in childlike excitement. ‘Oh hell yes. Please, for the love of plot twists, let this be one of those secret legacy vaults. Give me the ancient will of the primordial dragon or something.’
He stepped inside without hesitation but what he saw made him pause for half a second.
It was… a dining room.
A really nice dining room, sure, but still, just a dining room.
A long lacquered table dominated the center, surrounded by cushioned chairs. There were polished wooden cabinets on one side, neatly stacked utensils behind glass doors, decorative scrolls on the wall, and even a soft carpet that made his sandals sink slightly as he walked.
High quality, elegant design, obviously expensive… but not what you'd expect from a secret blood-sealed chamber.
However, before he could properly complain about the lack of buried gold or forbidden scrolls, the air changed.
Array after array flickered to life across the room.
One lit up under his feet. Another sparked in the corner. Dozens, maybe more, began activating, forming a massive interconnected network of light and symbols across every inch of the walls and furniture. All of them were level 6. Every single one.
Ren stopped in his tracks.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, unable to stop himself.
As if summoned by his blasphemy, an aged woman’s voice rang out through the room, calm and disapproving.
“Such crude words do not suit the bearer of those with Senju lineage.”
Ren’s head shot up, eyes sharpening instantly. He scanned the room, trying to find the source.
The voice was… coming from the table?
In an instant, he leapt onto the table like a cat, crouching in the center.
There, right in the middle of the table was a large spiral-shaped seal, red and precise, the exact symbol of the Uzumaki clan. It pulsed slowly, almost like it was alive, and as the voice continued, it vibrated rhythmically with each word.
“Only those who possess the blood of Hashirama or Tobirama would be able to activate this message. So once your excitement is curbed, do start the array again.”
Ren tilted his head, only half-listening now. His eyes were fixed on the seal, but more importantly, on what was under it.
His Hyperfocus was already working overtime, and now it confirmed what he suspected. Every single one of the level 6 arrays in this room, all those pulsing symbols on the walls, the ceiling, the goddamn carpet were feeding directly into this one central seal.
He couldn’t help but mutter, “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
The seal was like the heart of the room. Every array, every pulse of chakra, every coded instruction… all of it, connected. But here’s the weird part, it didn’t need to be this complicated.
Ren squinted at the symbol again. It wasn’t some giant data storage vault or secret entrance to an underground armory. It was just a playback mechanism.
He tapped it lightly, sensing the vibrations within. ‘This is literally a voice recording.’
That was it. It was a high-grade, chakra-based audio recording. Nothing more. A really fancy Fuinjutsu voicemail.
But unlike the voicemails he remembered from his old world, this one had been preserved through literal decades, maybe longer. No power source, no refresh seals, just old-school masterwork fuinjutsu.
Still crouched on the table, Ren began inspecting the area more carefully. His finger traced a groove on the underside of the seal, and he caught a glimpse of more complex symbols hidden in the grain. A vibration modulator seal. Chakra frequency calibrators. Hell, this table was hollow and inside it, there were amplification matrices etched into the interior panels.
That’s how the voice worked. The seal vibrated at a specific chakra frequency. Those vibrations passed through different secondary seals etched below the surface. The modulation seals turned those vibrations into sound waves, and the amplification runes sent them through the hollow table to make them audible.
If someone from this world saw it, they’d call it divine craftsmanship.
But to Ren, it was just a chakra version of a Bluetooth speaker system. A very impressive one, sure, but still just that.
He stared at the vibrating seal again.
‘All this for a pre-recorded message?’ he thought, eyebrows raised.
It was absurd. Most seal masters wouldn’t even dream of doing something like this because the work involved would take weeks, if not months, just to etch the base recording mechanism correctly. The sound modulations alone could break the mind of most level 4 practitioners.
This wasn’t just a message. Either this woman had something very important to say, or she was a certifiable madwoman with too much time on her hands and a high opinion of her own voice.
Knowing the Senju clan and guessing who it was, it could easily be both.
With a sigh, Ren sat down cross-legged on the table in front of the seal, his fingers hovering just above the spiral.
He cracked his knuckles, closed his eyes for a moment, and murmured, “Alright then. Let’s see if you’re here for lore drop or waste my time like the rest of the house.”
With that, he pressed centre of the seal like it was a pause play button but it did work exactly like that and the message began once again.
“If you are Monkey or his lover, who by the grace of the Sage were somehow able to hear this message, do know that this message is not really useful to you. It just contains a few of the most important secrets of the Senju clan which, if became known, could cause a war greater than any other.”
Ren blinked. “…Huh?”
He stared at the seal like it had somehow matched his vibe. “That’s, dramatic to say the least,” he muttered under his breath.
There was a long pause as his mind processed the sentence. Monkey obviously referred to Hiruzen. ‘His lover’ was most likely Danzo. Which… wow. Props to whoever made this for that level of passive aggression.
He nodded slowly to himself, lips twitching. ‘Okay, not gonna lie. I respect the pettiness.’
Still, the words made him pause. It was probably a bluff. But it also might not be. Knowing the level of overkill used just to record this message, Ren wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t actually some nuclear-level dirt on the Leaf’s founding years.
The amount of effort poured into these seals was no joke so if someone really wanted to hide something, these seals were probably great for them.
The message continued without waiting for his internal commentary.
“For those with the Senju blood, let me introduce myself. I am Mito Uzumaki. The jinchuriki of the Nine Tails. The greatest kunoichi to ever exist. The donor who contributed all the Fuinjutsu knowledge the Hidden Leaf has ever used. And also, the wife of the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju.”
Ren nodded sagely, ‘She’s modest like the great me too.’
He scratched his cheek as he listened, his eyes still on the spiraling seal which pulsed with every word. Her voice was smooth and cultured, definitely the type of aristocratic old-school ninja who looked down on everyone but somehow sounded polite doing it.
But… again, he couldn’t deny a single claim.
She was the first jinchuriki.
She was the wife of Hashirama.
She did provide the Leaf’s foundation of Fuinjutsu.
And she was terrifying.
So yeah. The intro was ridiculous, but not inaccurate.
“If you are Tsunade’s child, then I am your great-grandmother. If you are Sayaka’s child, then I am your grandaunt. However, since I am dead, these titles don’t matter much... unless, of course, I am not dead, fufufufu~.”
The voice giggled ominously and Ren stared blankly at the table.
He blinked once. Then again.
Then finally said, “...What the hell?”
He stood up, paced around the table once, then sat down again and squinted at the seal.
‘Okay, so we’re dealing with a mix of ‘hidden family legacy’ and ‘possible ghost grandma playing pranks from beyond the grave.’ Fantastic.’
He didn’t stop the message though.
Because despite the weirdness, despite the extra seasoning of ancient-Uzumaki drama queen energy, it was fascinating at the very least, and it wasn’t like it was not fun.
In just a few sentences the woman had gained Ren’s respect. She knew how to make fun of people even when you are not alive, she knew how to set the mood for a great story time and she was strong, all of which coincided with Ren’s own features so he had no problem listening in.
Also, this wasn’t just some scroll buried in the archives. This was a direct message from the wife of the First Hokage. A woman who not only lived through the Warring States Era but helped end it.
If she was speaking, it was worth hearing. No matter how off-beat it got.
He adjusted his seating posture and tapped a bit of chakra into the seal again.
‘Alright, ghost grandma. Give me the rest of your war-starting bedtime story.’
~~~~~
{The Mito I have in mind is kind of Robin (OnePiece) like personality so if there are a few jokes you don’t understand that means it is your fault and not her’s (and definitely not mine)}
