"A ninja is more than a symbol of power. A ninja must also be someone who shoulders responsibility. With strength comes the duty to protect those who matter."
Tsunade stood with her arms crossed, her expression calm but firm as she instilled her understanding of what it meant to walk the path of a shinobi into Hayashi.
"A ninja without conviction cannot wield their power properly, nor can they grow strong enough to stand on their own."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "So tell me, Hayashi. What is your wish? As your teacher, I need to know this."
For a moment, she looked as if she were adjusting invisible glasses, fully immersed in the role of a teacher.
Role-playing, huh? As expected of Princess Tsunade. She's good at this…
In truth, asking about wishes had long been part of Konoha's tradition. It was meant to give instructors insight into their students' hearts so they could guide them properly. But in reality, most of the time, those grand declarations of dreams ended in irony—or tragedy.
Tsunade, however, was genuinely curious about Hayashi's answer. The mind of a genius was never easy to predict, and Hayashi—an Uchiha child—stood out even within his own clan.
There was also his family. His father had once been a comrade of the Third Hokage, and even a disciple of Tsunade's grandfather, the First Hokage. That bond made her feel a subtle responsibility toward him.
"Wish?" Hayashi repeated softly. He lifted his head at a forty-five-degree angle, letting his dark eyes wander toward the drifting clouds. A faint breeze tugged at his hair, his cloak fluttering behind him as if he were preparing to strike a dramatic pose.
Unfortunately, his teacher lacked patience.
Tsunade ruffled his hair roughly. "Enough of that! Out with it already. You're dawdling worse than Orochimaru."
Somewhere far away, Orochimaru sneezed.
Hayashi chuckled faintly but didn't resist her hand. Speaking of wishes… he had feelings about that. Though he had lived in this world for years now, part of him still carried memories and traces of the past.
At times, he acted a little offbeat, a little unreliable, even making strange jokes that only he found funny. But underneath all that, he truly did treasure the friends he had gained here.
After a long pause, he finally answered. "Honestly, I just want a simple life. I'll become a shinobi, earn some money, marry a woman who isn't especially beautiful or ugly, and have two kids. First a daughter, then a son."
His voice softened. "When my daughter marries and my son can stand on his own, I'll retire. Spend my days in peace, maybe play shogi or Go. Then, when the time comes, I'll pass away quietly—after my wife, so she doesn't have to suffer alone."
It was almost word-for-word the dream Shikamaru once described. Hayashi knew it was probably impossible for him, but it was what he longed for in his heart.
The world is far too dangerous for that kind of peace.
"Bang!"
Tsunade's fist came down on his head, making him stumble.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a washed-up middle-aged uncle writing sad novels. You're even more dramatic than Jiraiya!"
Somewhere else, Jiraiya sneezed too.
"Can't you have a dream with some real ambition? Who are you trying to fool with this?"
Hayashi rubbed his head, frowning. "Tch. You shallow woman. When you reach my psychological age, you'll understand just how extravagant such a dream really is."
Her brows rose. "Hoh? Then what about aiming to become Hokage?"
Hayashi blinked. "Hokage? Isn't that Nawaki's dream? If I took it, then what would he have left? He'd lose his goal in life."
Tsunade studied him carefully, then smiled faintly. "You really do think about others, huh."
But her words triggered something in Hayashi's mind.
The title of Hokage… cursed, isn't it?
Nawaki had boasted about becoming Hokage, and he died at twelve. Obito had wanted the same, and tragedy consumed him soon after. Minato had achieved it, but fate cut him down early as well.
Even Madara, the first dreamer of that title, was denied it—his resentment became a wound that shaped history itself.
The Third Hokage, wise as he was, must have known. Why else would he never allow Danzo the seat, letting his old comrade live to a ripe old age? And yet, the moment Danzo finally reached for it, he was struck down in the streets.
Yes. To wish for Hokage was to court misfortune.
…
After their heart-to-heart, Tsunade led Hayashi deeper into the training grounds.
"This place belongs to the Senju clan. No one else comes here. For the next week, this will be your home."
She folded her arms and gave him a sharp look. "But remember, clean water and food aren't guaranteed. You'll earn them with performance. Dissatisfy me, and your supplies vanish."
Hayashi sighed. Figures.
"As a ninja, strength is what matters most," Tsunade continued. "It's our foundation, our means of survival. But knowing your own limits is just as important. That's why this training won't focus on teaching you more ninjutsu, genjutsu, or taijutsu."
Her gaze turned serious. "Instead, we'll start with the most basic skill of all: chakra control."
She studied his reaction. "You should have noticed it yourself. Fighting my shadow clone left you strained. Yes, you have talent in ninjutsu, taijutsu, shurikenjutsu, and even genjutsu. But your chakra control? Sloppy."
She raised a finger. "Don't think it doesn't matter just because you have a lot of chakra. There will always be someone with more. At that point, what matters is mastery. Precise control. The one who can mold chakra more efficiently will always last longer."
Her tone grew sharper. "Future techniques—chakra nature transformations, chakra shape transformations, advanced genjutsu—all of them demand flawless control. The stronger your grip on your chakra, the stronger your illusions, and the harder they are to dispel."
Hayashi nodded slowly. He knew she was right. Chakra quantity came from one's body. The Senju and Uzumaki clans, for example, were blessed with huge reserves at birth. But control—control could be honed, sharpened, made perfect with practice.
In truth, Tsunade was a qualified teacher. Impatient, bad-tempered, lazy, fond of gambling, sure… but she had knowledge, and she did care, in her own way.
And unlike in the manga he remembered, this Tsunade didn't feel broken. In the future, after losing Nawaki and Dan, grief would consume her, driving her into depression, hemophobia, and self-imposed exile.
But here and now, she was still strong. Still full of life. She still gambled, yes, but it was just a vice—not yet an escape.
Hayashi found he didn't mind her company at all. In fact, he almost enjoyed it.
"Hayashi," Tsunade's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Hm?" He glanced up.
Her eyes softened, and her tone carried a rare gentleness. "What were you thinking about just now?"
"Nothing much," he said after a pause. "Just wondering… what about your dream, Tsunade-sama?"
For a moment, her golden-brown eyes grew distant. A small, bittersweet smile touched her lips.
"My dream…?" she murmured. Silence lingered.
Finally, she shook her head. "Just a very small dream."
But her expression told Hayashi that dream had once meant everything to her.
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