After the war ended, as a teenage prodigy and war hero, Makoto naturally became, for a time, the model student of the Ninja Academy after Kakashi, the "other people's child" in adults' mouths, and a star figure occasionally discussed by the villagers.
When he went out shopping or eating, he could enjoy discounts; when buying vegetables or meat, he would even get an extra 100 grams thrown in.
The people of Konohagakure were still quite enthusiastic—not too unruly.
As the greatest contributor to this war's victory and the new Hokage of Konohagakure, Namikaze Minato received fervent support from both the villagers and the grassroots ninja. When he went out to work, he nodded all the way until he reached the Hokage Tower.
Minato was a calm and composed person. Although he had fulfilled his childhood dream of becoming Hokage, he would not lose himself amid the repeated flattery of "Hokage-sama."
It was just that his neck was bearing a bit too much of a burden. In order not to develop cervical spondylosis too early, the blond, handsome guy reduced the number of times he walked to work.
Flying Thunder God was simply too convenient. Work started at eight; he could sleep until 7:59.
If Konohagakure had competing food delivery services, he'd easily be their top customer—no one could out-order him.
But every hot topic eventually passes; even the most intense emotions gradually cool down. Life, in the end, is mainly about getting through one ordinary day after another.
With the war over, Konohagakure had many things left undone and awaiting revival; the ninja had plenty of matters to keep them busy.
When loved ones depart, life must still go on. What the villagers care about most is firewood, rice, oil, and salt.
Compared to the adult ninja who were now becoming busy, underage ninja like Makoto, who had been forced to graduate early to cope with the war, were relatively idle.
Peace had arrived. At this time, the village's higher-ups and the jōnin leading teams were more willing to let them enjoy the peaceful growth they deserved.
Using a relaxed atmosphere to wear away the killing intent stained by war, and using ample training time to digest the experience gained in battle.
After all, those rookies who had survived this war had already proven their talent; their potential was limitless—they were the village's future.
As for those without talent, most of them were now lying in the cemetery.
...
By the branch of the Naka River was the usual gathering and recreation spot of Makoto's group of four.
Compared to before, there was now an extra "accessory" trailing behind them—Itachi, who had come along with Shisui.
An overly precocious child could not quite play together with others of the same age, whether from his own clan or from the village. Instead, he preferred to hang around with Makoto and the others.
Because he believed that someone like Makoto—strong in ability, meritorious in war, and one who had protected the village and his companions—was the example he should learn from.
His father had said the same.
Most importantly, he spoke pleasantly and made sense. He liked that very much.
As for Makoto and the others, the games they had as kids were for when they were kids—once they grew up, naturally they had entertainment suited to being older.
At this moment, Hayate and Yūgao joined forces to launch an attack on their friend.
The two of them, plus their Shadow Clones, made a total of six figures. They attacked Makoto with blades from every direction. With genjutsu enhancing it, an ordinary person simply couldn't tell which one was the real body and which one was the main attacker.
Shadow Clones were a bit fragile, but they still had attacking power—they weren't ordinary Clone Technique clones.
This was one of the Konoha-ryū sword arts secretly passed down in their two families: Crescent Moon Dance.
Including things like Secret Sword: Moon Shadow, Hazy Moon Night, and the Konoha-ryū Sword Art: Willow passed down from old man Kosuke, Makoto actually knew them as well—he just didn't usually have any need to use them.
Ever since the three families' relationship grew increasingly close, many ninjutsu had been shared.
Makoto was far faster than they were. Like a fish darting through water, he weaved through the net of blades, casually smashed the two of their Shadow Clones, then followed up with a single blade each to force them back.
The tremendous force made them stumble back several steps—thud, thud, thud—to steady themselves, but just as they finished shedding the force, they were grabbed by a hand that suddenly reached up from beneath their feet.
For ninjutsu, aside from rank and destructive power, the most important thing is the timing of the strike.
With his whole body buried in the soil, Hayate was a bit helpless—every time it was like this. Yūgao puffed her small face up like a bun, looking utterly unconvinced.
But there was nothing they could do. The gap between them and their "cheat-code" teammate really was that big.
After Makoto pulled them back out, he commented, "Genjutsu paired with swordsmanship really is quite good, but it can only deal with opponents weaker than you, or about the same as you. If you run into an expert, I wouldn't recommend using it—it's easy to come out at a loss."
The two of them naturally also knew the problem with their family's secret sword art. Put simply: it was easy for mowing down fodder, but ineffective against people of equal strength or stronger.
But knowing was one thing—having a lineage at all was already good. Many more ordinary ninja didn't even have the means to get something like that.
At this time, Shisui at the side was itching to try: "Makoto, since you put it that way, then take a look at the move I just developed."
"Sure. Come on!"
Then Shisui used an attack method that looked familiar to Makoto.
He split into more than ten seemingly ordinary Phantom Clones and swiftly surrounded Makoto in the middle. The clones coordinated smoothly, and the attacks came in an unbroken stream.
But most of them were basically fake—only the real body, constantly switching positions at high speed among the clones, had attacks with power behind them.
It was also a move that paired genjutsu with swordsmanship, but because of the Sharingan's cooperation, plus Shisui's superior Body Flicker Technique, its offensive power far exceeded Hayate's and Yūgao's.
This was the talent of a bloodline ninja—the Sharingan's extremely high boost to genjutsu was not something ordinary people could learn.
This guy was already starting down the path of "Shisui of the Body Flicker."
But it was still useless. Makoto could always block that elusive slash of his as if he had predicted it in advance. No matter how Shisui used genjutsu to interfere or tried to increase the speed of his Body Flicker, it made no difference.
After fighting for a while and failing to break through his defenses, Shisui stopped attacking, somewhat deflated. "So it really doesn't work on you, Makoto. You're unbelievable—your defense is practically flawless. It seems I'll have to train even harder if I want to catch up to you."
Makoto smiled. "You're already very strong, Shisui. It just doesn't work on me. You know the reason, don't you?"
Shisui naturally understood. Because Makoto's perception was too abnormal, an ordinary ninja simply couldn't handle this kind of attack style that could break a person's spirit.
When ordinary ninja faced the Sharingan, they were already defeated before the fight even began. In a one-on-one situation, they would certainly choose to flee—it wasn't a joke.
Shisui knew that, aside from perception, his friend's genjutsu prowess and resistance were actually very strong as well. But what he—and the others—did not know was that clones, even Shadow Clones, were meaningless against Makoto.
The perception he had awakened after absorbing white natural energy targeted more than just chakra. As a ninja, to protect one's secrets, some things only needed to be known by oneself.
This was their usual form of leisure.
As ninja, sparring and training were one of their main forms of entertainment. Because everyone deliberately held back, injuries were rare.
The only unlucky ones were the fish in the river.
In the evening, the five of them sat around a campfire enjoying the delicious offering of river fish, while exchanging insights from their training.
Recently, Itachi had gained a great deal from following behind them.
At this moment, as he gnawed on his dinner, he asked, "Makoto-senpai, how can I become as strong as you?"
Makoto thought for a moment before answering, "Love life, and love training. Friends and companions can warm your heart, and learning knowledge can broaden your horizons."
"Is it really that simple?"
"Itachi, that's not simple at all. A person who does not love life, whose heart is lonely and hollow—the stronger he becomes, the greater the disaster."
Itachi fell into thought.
Shisui and the others expressed their agreement. It was very much in line with the Will of Fire.
...
Time passed quickly in leisure. In the blink of an eye, two months had gone by, and it was already the end of the year.
This year's climate was somewhat unseasonal. The cold wave had moved south later than usual; with December nearly over, the temperature was about the same as early autumn.
In fact, it wasn't just this year. The seasons of the shinobi world had always been rather surreal. Sometimes winter was as warm as spring; other times heavy snow would fall early.
If not for the still-distinct characteristics of the four seasons, it would almost rival the long winters and long summers of Westeros.
Who knew whether it was because, more than a thousand years ago, Hagoromo and Hamura had fought their own mother too fiercely, knocking a planet with a stable axial tilt into a wobbling spinning top.
December 20. Weather: clear. Auspicious for marriage and moving house.
Makoto put on handsome clothes, styled his hair like an adult's, and went out with his parents to the Konoha auditorium to attend a wedding banquet.
Today was a day of great joy—the newly appointed Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato, was getting married.
He and Uzumaki Kushina covered in wedding attire, waiting with family and friends for the dishes to be served.
Jiraiya openly expressed his envy. He had learned his disciple's Rasengan, but he still couldn't learn how to coax the goddess he admired until she was utterly smitten.
All these years facing Tsunade, all he ever got were massive punches.
As an emerging force rising within the village, Minato had long since defined his core base of support. Naturally, the three families to which Makoto belonged received invitations.
Inside the Konoha auditorium, the crowd was dense and the atmosphere lively. Everyone looked at the couple on the stage, silently offering their blessings in their hearts.
Among the crowd, Kakashi and Guy stood together. With the hot-blooded Guy by his side—and today being such a joyous occasion—the gloom on Kakashi's face had faded considerably.
Arriving at their side, Makoto greeted them, "Guy-senpai, Kakashi-senpai."
Kakashi merely nodded, as always playing the role of the cool expert.
Guy was momentarily stunned. "You are?"
"Guy-senpai, your face-blindness is getting a bit serious. You can't even remember someone as handsome as me?"
"Ah! It's you, Makoto—hahaha, of course I remember."
Makoto was somewhat speechless. Guy was too single-minded; teasing the cool expert was more interesting. "Kakashi-senpai, today is your sensei's wedding. On such an important day, you're still wearing that mask?"
Kakashi replied lazily, "Well, I'm used to it. It's not my wedding, so it doesn't matter."
"I seriously suspect that when you get married, your partner won't even know what you look like."
"Then I just won't get married. Why go through something so troublesome?"
Makoto pretended to be startled. "Senpai, don't tell me you don't like girls? Could it be that you actually…"
After saying that, he looked toward Guy at the side, leaving him completely bewildered.
Kakashi slapped his forehead, utterly helpless. This guy had quite a nasty personality—definitely an even more troublesome bastard than Obito.
On the raised platform of the auditorium, Minato and Kushina, dressed in the traditional wedding attire of the Land of Fire, were carrying out the marriage ceremony under the officiation of a Shinto priest.
The shinobi world, much like his previous life, had belief systems similar to Shinto and Buddhism.
Buddhist temples could be found in every country, and Shinto traditions were the same, though mainly concentrated in the Land of Demons, where shrine maidens held extremely high status—comparable to that of a Daimyō.
Konohagakure also had its own shrine; otherwise, where would Yakushi Nono's shrine maiden identity have come from?
Today, the Fourth Hokage's wedding adopted the Shinto-style ceremony before the kami, so naturally it was presided over by a priest.
The groom was handsome, the bride beautiful, both faces radiant with happiness. The rare pairing of blond hair and red hair stood out strikingly among the crowd.
It gave off the feeling of tomatoes scrambled with eggs.
In his previous life, Makoto had worked for several years as a struggling, low-level graphic designer. This scene made him recall something his design instructor once said: red paired with yellow is the most beautiful of all.
Yes, though it was rather tacky, it truly was beautiful.
Year 50 of Konohagakure was the highlight year of Namikaze Minato's life—leading the village to victory in war, then marrying a beautiful and capable wife, rising to become the "CEO" of Konohagakure, and reaching the peak of life. It was impossible not to feel excited.
Only, looking at the flawless young couple, Makoto suddenly hoped that this peak could last a little longer, that it would not end so quickly.
People always wish for a few more beautiful things to remain by their side.
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