Autumn always carried a quiet melancholy. Green leaves gradually turned yellow, trembling in the cold wind, a subtle reminder of passing time.
A few days ago, a group of ninjas had departed for the Land of Rivers. Earlier still, the Uchiha clan head had led the clan's elite to the Daimyo's mansion with great ceremony. The once-bustling village had quieted in their absence.
With the Uchiha gone, ANBU personnel suddenly felt stretched thin. For Konoha's safety, Root operatives, at Danzo's request, were temporarily deployed as additional security forces.
Everyone knew it—though the last war had barely ended, the next was looming. In this tense environment, the "Italian Cannon" weapon shop prospered, quietly profiting from the preparations for conflict.
Might Dai felt a twinge of reflection. As a genin, he had no money, no connections, and had endured constant teasing from peers. Now, with his shop thriving in Konoha's busiest district, former colleagues greeted him warmly. Relationships that once seemed impossible were now amicable.
The only lingering regret was that his own ninja career would soon end. A minor disappointment—he hadn't achieved chunin rank—but he promised himself he would live vicariously through his children, ensuring their dreams came true. One son could fix some problems; if necessary, two could tackle all.
Hayashi, of course, had no idea that Might Guy might gain a metaphorical "extra brother," just as Kakashi had his own unexpected surprises.
Since arriving in this world, Hayashi had changed so much that everything felt unrecognizable. Some changes were for the better, others not—but time alone would reveal the truth.
While Tsunade was away, Hayashi quietly made his way to Mikoto's small courtyard and dug up the wine hidden beneath the tree.
According to Kushina, Hashirama had left many precious things behind, but the wine was among the most valuable—priceless even by village standards. Luckily, only Hayashi and Kushina knew of its existence; otherwise, Tsunade would have long since confiscated it all.
Hayashi retrieved a bottle, reburied the dirt, and walked along the quiet path toward the cemetery, stopping at a secluded spot.
Fresh flowers lay before a tombstone, a silent testament of a recent visitor. Sitting cross-legged, Hayashi carefully removed the wax seal from the wine, releasing a rich aroma into the autumn air.
A curious crow landed on his shoulder, eyes fixed on the bottle. Hayashi shook his head. This wine was his alone, a private conversation with Mikoto herself.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent, and then drank, appreciating the layered flavor that only time could cultivate. Though aged wine was often mixed with younger vintages to soften it, he drank it pure, wanting the original taste to remain untouched.
As he sipped, the crow staggered drunkenly to the ground, overwhelmed by the fragrance. Yawning, Hayashi pocketed the bottle, carrying the inebriated crow to another grave.
In a secluded corner, he found Yura's tombstone. A familiar figure was already sitting there.
"Nawaki, is Yura happy here?" Hayashi asked softly.
"She said it feels like home," Nawaki replied, voice tinged with melancholy. "Everyone here is talented and kind, but it's a bit lonely."
"Sorry I'm late, Yura," Hayashi murmured, placing a bouquet of chrysanthemums before the stone. Sitting cross-legged, he set the crow on the ground beside him.
"Did you just visit Grandma?" Nawaki asked, sniffing the air. Only Mito's wine had this distinct scent.
"Yeah. I talked to her, reported on Kushina, and met a new friend," Hayashi said, nodding toward the crow.
"My sister said you'll be leaving soon," Nawaki remarked.
"Yes. The Sand Village attacked the Land of Fire. A new war is coming. Your genin rotation will continue, but jonin must go to the battlefield. There's no way around it. Rotation is necessary to preserve strength. Genin for longer, jonin for shorter—but this time, I must temporarily part from Team 1."
Nawaki's face darkened, rare traces of despondency showing.
"Hey, we'll see each other again," Hayashi said, patting his shoulder. "In a few months, the battlefield will claim everyone eventually. A little rest is fine, right? Are you worried about your strength?"
Nawaki's eyes flickered with honesty. "I hate war."
It was almost impossible to imagine those words coming from Nawaki—months ago, he had eagerly anticipated battle. Hardship, it seemed, matured him faster than others. In contrast, Uchiha Fugaku remained untested.
"Hayashi, the future you mentioned… can we really achieve it?" Nawaki asked uncertainly.
"Of course. The future is ours. There's nothing we can't do if we truly want it," Hayashi replied firmly, knowing more about the path ahead than anyone else.
Nawaki nodded, lying back and staring at the sky.
"When the war ends, I'll find a girl and marry," he said softly.
"…That's good," Hayashi murmured, reclining beside the crow.
"I've even thought of a name for our child."
"Oh?" Hayashi asked, intrigued.
"What?!" Nawaki suddenly sat up.
The crow cawed sharply as it was accidentally jostled.
"Senju Yura," Nawaki whispered.
"…Yura, huh. A girl. That works." Hayashi leaned back, smiling faintly.
"Then she can marry my son."
"Huh?" Nawaki's eyes widened.
"Shisui, Uchiha Shisui, my son. Don't you like it?"
"…"