Chapter 74: Sweet Dreams
April, the forty fifth year of Konoha.
It was as if the entire world had silently agreed that the promised war would never come.
Cutting edge technologies and fearsome war machines circulated among nations like myths, their existence whispered in markets and meeting halls. Yet the headlines were not about battle or bloodshed. Instead, the world seemed to have entered a strange calm, one too peaceful to be real.
As though humanity had decided to bloom most brilliantly before its destruction, the literary and artistic circles of the ninja world entered a golden age. In mere months, classics and novels that were said to have "shocked the entire ninja world" began to appear one after another.
One of the most talked about was Legend of the Courage of the Universe, written and serialized by Aizen himself. It followed the romantic ascetic Ichiyuu on his voyage through the stars, an adventure of perseverance and enlightenment. Yet despite its lofty ideals, the book's reception was… mixed.
Far more successful was another title from Konoha, Naruto: The Legend of Naruto, reportedly authored by Jiraiya of the Legendary Sannin. Its sales far outstripped Aizen's work, which readers often dismissed as "thinly veiled philosophical romance... or soft core literature."
Beyond these novels, discussions and essays about "peace in the ninja world" spread rapidly, originating from Konoha and reaching all the great nations. Pirated reprints and privately copied manuscripts flooded markets everywhere. Danzo, now hailed as Elder Danzo Shimura, encouraged this flood. He even waived his royalties for struggling publishers, choosing to spend his earnings to prevent disputes and support distribution.
As he famously said, money doesn't matter, only the arrival of peace does.
Yet, despite this strange harmony, rumors persisted, whispers of disappearances, of lingering pain hidden beneath the calm. Stories of sorrow, redemption, and even the moon circulated among the populace, like ghostly tales passed through firelight.
And somehow, these stories, romantic, tragic, or delusional, had jammed the gears of the world. The great war machine, once primed for conflict, now idled aimlessly, its propaganda hollow, its science without purpose.
Even Konoha was not spared from this melancholic peace. The air felt heavy, and the village seemed muted under the spring sun.
On one quiet afternoon, as the season shifted from spring to summer, a man walked through Konoha's main street with slumped shoulders and vacant eyes.
To those who knew him, the sight was almost unbelievable.
"Hey, isn't that Kato? You're off work early today?"
The shopkeeper, bored behind his counter, brightened at the familiar face.
The man he addressed, Kato, flinched slightly. He didn't meet the shopkeeper's eyes, forcing a small, awkward smile.
After a long pause, he muttered softly, "No… not exactly."
"Skipping work, huh?" the shopkeeper teased. "Can't blame you. Your job's tough. One day off won't hurt, no one else can do what you do anyway."
Kato shook his head faintly. "No, I… quit."
"Quit?" The shopkeeper's voice rose. "You're joking, right? You've got a daughter, a son… and a pregnant wife, don't you?"
Kato's forced smile trembled. He lowered his gaze further.
"My daughter's married now. She doesn't visit anymore. My son was killed by Cloud Ninjas at the border a few months ago. My wife… she gave birth not long ago. It was a difficult labor. They both died."
The shopkeeper froze, his words caught in his throat.
"I… see."
"Then I'll be going," Kato said quietly, bowing slightly before walking off.
The old man behind the counter stood in silence long after he left, unsure what to feel.
Not everyone in Konoha was like Kato, broken, hollow, defeated. Many still worked tirelessly, their faces set in quiet determination. Others smiled, claiming they were living in a good era, a peaceful one.
Even the bookstores were lively.
As Kato passed by one, a cheerful young clerk, clearly a new hire, rushed up to him, clutching a pile of freshly printed volumes.
"Please take a look, sir! This is Elder Danzo's newest collection, Necessary Evil, Volume One! Revised personally by Minister Aizen! It's selling out across the ninja world!"
Kato blinked, confused. "Oh… is that so?"
"And this!" The clerk's eyes gleamed. "Aizen sama's latest novel! 'Even in the Darkest Universe, Courage Can Shine Like Light!' A masterpiece!"
Kato took a hesitant step back. "Ah, no… thank you…"
But the clerk was relentless. "If those don't suit you, we have others! Look, this one's a romance from the Sand Village, Her Majesty the Wasp Waist! Beautiful illustrations, sir! Are you sure you don't want a copy or two?"
Kato could only stammer incoherently. "Ah… I… see…"
By the time he escaped the store, his wallet was empty, his arms full of books he hadn't meant to buy.
Back home, he set them down on his worn out table and stared blankly at the glossy covers. Then, with a weary sigh, he looked at his empty wallet and allowed his mind to drift, lost between dreams and the hollow quiet of peace.
Peace, ideas, the world, none of it really mattered to him.
After all, he wasn't a ninja. He was just a common man. So why had he bought all those books filled with lofty ideals and theories? It wasn't as if they were meant for people like him. He didn't understand them and didn't need to.
Maybe he'd just been too embarrassed to go back to the bookstore and ask for a refund. That was how he'd always been. His late wife used to say the same thing about him, too timid, too polite, too worried about appearances.
She had been a proud woman, always conscious of how others saw her. Her childhood sweetheart had long since given up on her, yet she had married Kato anyway, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of practicality. The girl who once smiled like spring sunlight had become a shadow in a cage.
Feeling an ache in his chest, Kato lit a stick of incense before the small household shrine.
On the table nearby lay the letter his daughter had left behind, the letter severing their relationship as father and daughter. The handwriting was delicate but distant, each stroke as cold as winter rain.
He sighed, though the emotion behind it was hard to name.
His daughter had always been indifferent, too quiet, too proud. His wife had tried to guide her, and his son, as the older brother, often stepped in to keep the peace. But after the Cloud Ninjas killed his son, and his wife died in childbirth soon after, the girl had cut all ties with him.
It wasn't her fault, really. Kato had no wealth, no power. He was just another faceless villager in Konoha, scraping by on meager pay. His daughter had chosen a better life, married a man of status, one of the new nobles who flourished under the village's new order.
That was enough, he told himself. She didn't need to call him "Father" anymore, so long as she lived well.
That was enough.
His son had died upholding the Will of Fire, a philosophy Kato could never quite understand. His daughter had found happiness, and his wife, before her death, had told him she never regretted marrying him. By all accounts, his life should have been a content one.
He could almost hear his neighbors' voices: Keep moving forward. Keep improving. Don't drown in sorrow. Even your wife would laugh at you for moping like this.
He smiled weakly at the thought, then turned toward the pile of glossy books on his table. The bindings gleamed under the lamplight, the titles full of meaning he couldn't grasp.
When he opened one, the symbols on the page blurred together. He realized, with a bitter chuckle, that he didn't recognize half of the words.
How ridiculous, he thought. Why would a man like me, barely literate, buy books like these?
In the past, his son had been the one to read aloud. The boy would explain the world to him, news from the borders, stories from other lands, little discoveries from the academy. His daughter would listen with shining eyes, fascinated by every word. His wife would be in the kitchen, laughing softly as she cooked.
Even with scraps and wild vegetables, she could make a meal sweeter than any delicacy. When he complimented her, she'd laugh and tap her forehead with a spoon, pretending to scold him for embarrassing her in front of the children.
Those were simple days, quiet, imperfect, but full of warmth.
Now, the laughter was gone. The warmth had faded. All that remained was the silence of the house and the faint scent of incense.
Was it my fault? he wondered. Did I not work hard enough? Or was life simply like this, an unchangeable thing?
Maybe this was what it meant to be ordinary.
Unlike the brilliant people who shaped the world, his life was just mud, heavy, colorless, and dull.
But he didn't hate that. He'd once loved that mud. It had been his home, his comfort.
All he wanted now was to return to it, to feel that warmth again, even if just once more.
But he knew he wasn't worthy of it. Not anymore.
So he prepared for the only escape left to him.
"…"
Kato took out a small cigarette from his pocket. It wasn't tobacco, just an old, mottled incense stick he had kept for years.
He lit it carefully and set it near the window, letting the fragrant smoke rise toward the moonlight. The room filled with a soft, soothing aroma.
He sat cross legged on the tatami, hands folded, and allowed the memories to come.
His son's laughter. His wife's humming. His daughter's distant smile.
He lingered in those moments for a long time.
Then, with a faint, peaceful sigh, he pulled his mattress close, wrapped himself in the old quilt, and slowly lay down amidst the haze of smoke.
It wasn't despair that drove him, nor any grand, tragic realization. It was something far simpler.
Because only here…
"Dad! Don't sleep! The war's over, I'm back!"
Only here could he have everything he'd lost.
"…"
Through the mist of his fading consciousness, he saw his son standing outside the yard, waving his forehead protector with that same bright grin, the one more radiant than the sun itself. Beside him stood his daughter, smiling shyly, and her husband bowed politely behind her.
Tears welled in Kato's eyes. They flowed freely down his weathered cheeks.
He knew the world outside was getting better. That Konoha was prospering again. But what did that matter to him?
He had already found his peace.
He no longer needed courage. He no longer needed tomorrow.
"If this is a dream…" he whispered, voice trembling, "…please don't let me wake up."
And with that final thought, Kato embraced his son tightly.
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