The Great Ninja War — the conflict that would claim countless lives and reshape the shinobi world — had been set into motion by Hiruzen Sarutobi's declaration. Yet for now, that vast tide of consequence felt far away to two small figures who had little to do with politics: Hayashi and Minato.
Minato had an endless stream of things he wanted to say to Hayashi, and so he spoke until the hours slipped by without either of them noticing. When Minato finally glanced at the wall clock, he sheepishly ran his hand through his blonde hair.
"Ah, I talked for longer than I meant to. I'm keeping you up," he said, laughing awkwardly.
Hayashi waved a hand, unbothered. "It's fine. I'm just idle anyway. Otherwise I'd be stuck reading the manga Nawaki brought me."
"You know, speaking of manga, I nearly forgot what Jiraiya-sensei asked me to bring you."
Minato rummaged through his bag with a conspiratorial grin. Hayashi watched, curious despite himself. Maybe Minato had procured some of Jiraiya's legendary — and frequently embarrassing — writings.
At last, Minato produced a book, holding it out with exaggerated pride. "Here."
Hayashi took it and read the title: Twenty Years of Konoha's Ups and Downs, by Jiraiya.
Hayashi's expression remained blank as Minato puffed up with pride. "This is a novel Jiraiya-sensei spent three years on. He says he's a writer now and that this will be his masterpiece."
"He still remembers the things you said back in second year — that he'd write crazy books," Minato added, unable to hide his amusement. "So when this came out, he had me bring it along for you."
Hayashi rolled his eyes inwardly. Jiraiya remembered plenty he probably should not have. Hayashi tucked the book beneath his pillow, half amused and half exasperated.
"Oh, tell Jiraiya I wish him an early flop," he said, deadpan.
When Minato left the room, Hayashi settled back and was about to reach for the book when a knock sounded on the door.
Patients had rights and visitors, Hayashi thought. It wasn't Kushina or Mikoto at this hour, and neither Tsunade nor Nawaki would be so casual. The usual troublemakers should have visited days ago. Whoever was knocking now must be someone unexpected.
He pretended to remain asleep, making no sound, but the knocking did not stop. Whoever was outside proved persistent, and eventually Hayashi could not be bothered to keep up the act.
"The door isn't locked. Come in," he called, voice thin.
The door opened and Hyūga Himeji stepped in. Hayashi blinked. He had not seen her since that night three years prior. Time had moved them in different directions; Himeji had graduated soon after and become a genin, and he had heard that her brother, Hizashi, had received the Caged Bird seal and taken up duties as head of a branch house. After that, news of her life had been scarce.
Himeji's Byakugan was active; the faint veins around her temples sharpened her gaze. She carried a bunch of decorative flowers rather than a formal bouquet. Without a word, she walked to Hayashi's bedside and, with a purposeful motion, added her flowers to the ones Minato had left earlier.
Hayashi felt himself sit up in surprise, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed by Himeji's steady hand. She tucked the quilt around him and then moved to open the window. The July heat pressed on the hospital, and the thin breeze that the air conditioning managed to produce drifted away into the corridor.
"Are you here to pick a fight?" Hayashi asked, half teasing and half sincere.
"I'm here to visit a patient," Himeji replied without changing her impassive expression.
She sat by the bed and, after a moment of silence that hummed with an awkward intimacy, began to peel the apple Minato had brought. She offered the slices to him and placed the remainder in his palm.
After a moment more of quiet, she rose, bowed once with an economy of motion that felt almost formal, and left the room as calmly as she had entered.
Hayashi watched the door close and sank back against the pillow. He unwrapped the apple and had barely taken a bite when another knock sounded. His patience, already thin, frayed.
"What is going on?" he muttered. "Security?"
He called out, more annoyed than necessary, "The door isn't locked. Come in."
This time a woman entered. Her features were composed and mature, her hair swept up in a neat coil, earrings catching the light as she moved. She carried the quiet authority of someone who had spent years in positions of responsibility.
"You may call me Aunt Koharu," she said as she took a seat beside the bed. "I was a close friend of your father. We were both students of the Second."
Hayashi froze. The name tugged at a distant memory. Koharu Utatane, one of the village elders — a figure he had only seen in passing in the manga. She had been present when Hiruzen had worked alongside his father. Hayashi had expected to know her face, but seeing her up close was different than the vague impressions time had left behind.
Koharu smiled gently. "Your eyes are very much like your father's."
Hayashi blinked at the familiarity of the remark, aware of a warm, strange thread that tied him to the man he had lost. He shifted on the pillow, unsure whether to laugh or to press the old wounds closed.
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The rate at which I get little to no power stones, lol💀
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