Hayashi woke early on the hard, cold ground.
Through the mouth of the cave, he could just make out the faint light of dawn. The sky carried thin red streaks that shimmered against the chill morning air. Everything was quiet — almost too quiet.
Beside him, Mikoto and Nawaki were still asleep. Their calm, even breathing echoed faintly in the silence. Hayashi stared at the ashes of last night's campfire, but sleep refused to return.
His eyes wandered to the cobwebs on the rocky ceiling. He thought back to the day he'd first met Yura and the others. That day already felt like a memory from another lifetime.
What happens now?
He lay back, thinking about the Iwa shinobi, the endless war, the Land of Rain drenched in sorrow — and the friends who'd fallen one after another.
Without realizing it, his Sharingan spun to life. A cold, restless aura filled the cave as emotions began to churn within him — grief, hatred, rage.
Hatred for the Iwa-nin. Hatred for those who started this war.
Even… resentment toward the Third Hokage himself.
His two-tomoe Sharingan spun faster and faster, his breathing turning rough. Darkness swelled like a tide, pressing against his chest.
A sharp pain stabbed through his head, and Hayashi suddenly sat upright, clutching his eyes. The oppressive emotions receded as quickly as they came.
Panting, he steadied his breath.
The Sharingan truly was the "eye that reflects the heart."
He remembered what the Second Hokage once said — when a member of the Uchiha experiences intense loss, their brain produces a unique chakra that transforms their eyes. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the Sharingan becomes.
Hayashi stood up. He needed something to clear his mind. Quietly, he stepped toward the cave entrance.
Morning light broke faintly through the clouds. Rain still poured, though the dawn glow painted the distant mountains in streaks of pale gold. The Land of Rain was always sorrowful — yet moments like this made it seem fragile, almost beautiful.
He stood watching until soft footsteps approached from behind.
Nawaki sat beside him, patting his shoulder.
"Sorry if I woke you," Hayashi said quietly.
"It's fine. I thought maybe your wounds were acting up," Nawaki replied, his tone calmer than before.
Hayashi shook his head and turned toward him.
Nawaki blinked. "Wait—your eye…"
Hayashi's right eye was still a two-tomoe Sharingan. But his left — it had evolved. The third tomoe gleamed faintly in the dim light.
Nawaki stared for a moment before groaning, "Hayashi, I swear your luck's ridiculous."
He began counting on his fingers. "First time we met, you stole first place from me at the academy entrance exam. Every exam after that, same thing. On our fifth-year mission, you awakened your two-tomoe. And now—on another mission with me—you unlock your three-tomoe eye!"
Hayashi exhaled, speechless. "Are you serious right now?"
"Ever since we met, my peaceful life's been destroyed," Nawaki muttered dramatically.
Hayashi thought about it and almost laughed. The more he recalled, the worse it sounded.
Second year — nearly beaten to death by Tsunade.
Fifth year — a 'simple' C-rank mission turned into a fight with a Jōnin.
Then came the gold mine incident — poisoned by a Suna shinobi and accidentally triggering the Second Great Ninja War.
And now?
This "safe" mission handpicked by Orochimaru-sensei had nearly killed them all, leaving only three survivors.
He sighed. Nawaki's luck truly might be cursed — just like Tsunade's gambling streak.
Hayashi patted his shoulder. "Clearly, my luck's only gotten worse."
Nawaki nodded solemnly. "Yeah… that checks out."
He looked away, frowning. "Do you think Yura-san was captured by the Iwa-nin?"
Hayashi shook his head. "No. Yura's not the type to be taken alive. She's too smart for that. If it came to it…" — he paused — "she'd rather die than be captured."
"Yeah," Nawaki murmured with a hollow smile. "She wouldn't be captured."
They both laughed, but it was a laughter heavy with grief.
---
Days passed slowly. The grass at the cave entrance began to wilt.
A few Iwa-nin patrols had been seen nearby, searching the area, but they found nothing.
Those who followed the wrong tracks triggered traps Hayashi had left behind — after losing several scouts, the enemy finally retreated.
That evening, it was Nawaki's turn to scout. After confirming he wasn't followed, he returned to the cave.
Inside, the place looked far different than before. The group had gathered supplies — stolen food, utensils, and a makeshift wooden table in the center. Mikoto was preparing dinner, and Hayashi sat hunched over the table, studying a map spread wide across it.
"How's the situation?" Hayashi asked without looking up.
"There's still a crater where we separated from Yura-san," Nawaki replied. "Most of the other signs of battle have faded."
Hayashi nodded. That was to be expected — it had already been two weeks.
He motioned for Nawaki to sit and eat, but something made him frown suddenly.
Nawaki instantly tensed, falling into a defensive stance, but Hayashi waved him off. "Relax, it's not an enemy."
Moments later, soft footsteps echoed down the tunnel. A figure appeared at the cave's entrance — a young girl, drenched and trembling.
She stopped just short of the firelight.
Her torn clothes clung to her skin, and her face was half-hidden in shadow. Her lips quivered, and her eyes were wide, darting nervously between them.
After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Umm… Ninja-sama, could you please spare us some food?"
The rain outside drummed softly against the rocks. None of them moved for a moment.
Hayashi's gaze lingered on her, his Sharingan fading back into black.
This war… it never stopped taking.
______
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