She'd thought she was changing, but pieces of disproof were flocking over her like vultures brought by Kurosawa's words. Mari had made Keiko fall in love with her, then avoided dealing with the mess even if it doomed Keiko to the agony of spending every day with a woman she could never have. In the Liberator's village, she, the mistress of manipulation, had murdered a young man for being inconvenient even as he was busy giving her the keys to his heart. She had encouraged Hazō to take up the ninja discipline with the highest beginner fatality rate, and hadn't that paid off nicely?
She'd used her forbidden technique to wipe Hazō's memory just so she could avoid a real emotional connection. She, a socially adept jōnin, had made a deeply troubled little girl take on the responsibility of dealing with an entire alien race. She'd broken her word to the rest of the team and prompted Hazō and Akane to pursue the path she wanted for them, then forgot about them until they blundered into a disaster she might have been able to prevent. She'd dragged her genin into a family arrangement they never asked for, selling one off in the process and abandoning another. Then, having got what she wanted, she retired, the jōnin leaving the genin to do traumatic and near-fatal missions on their own.
How many incidents could she remember? How many others felt so natural that they just blended into the background fabric of daily life? How could she prove she'd changed when the opposing narrative was such a perfect fit?