Journey

The eastern horizon had only just begun to brighten. In the morning mist, the ox cart given to them by the Senju brothers stood quietly, the sturdy ox Tobirama had personally selected from the tribe snorting white vapor.

"Itama will drive you there." Tobirama handed Itama the map and pointed out their destination.

"Both of you can handle bandits easily, but if a team of ninja comes after you... especially the U..." He paused. "Light the signal."

Hashirama Senju strode forward and hung a camphorwood charm on the cart's curtain. "Take this. The Wood Release Chakra will warn you of danger."

His smile was warmer than the rising sun as he held out his arms for a hug, and Utsusemi returned it as promised.

Hashirama suddenly stiffened during the embrace. The floral fragrance in his arms made his heart skip half a beat.

At that realization, his arms tightened involuntarily. A long moment passed before he hurriedly let go. "Take care on the road!"

Utsusemi opened her arms to Tobirama, and the young ninja instinctively stepped half a pace back.

Tobirama Senju finally stepped half a pace forward and, under Itama's wide-eyed gaze, stiffly returned the embrace Utsusemi had been waiting so long for. "Take... care on the road."

His ears flushed red in the morning light. Utsusemi mischievously pinched one of the burning tips, startling him into springing back several paces like a frightened cat.

Her delighted laughter shattered the parting atmosphere. Hashirama folded his arms, his lips curving in the hint of a smile.

The ox cart traveled farther and farther away, and Hashirama's standing figure gradually blurred in the thin mist.

Tobirama noticed that his brother's hands, hanging at his sides, had clenched hard enough to draw blood.

The scroll of Sealing Jutsu notes in his own sleeve, still ungiven, was pressing painfully against him.

He took a deep breath. "Brother, we still have work to do."

The tenderness faded from Hashirama Senju's face. As he turned and left, dew slipped silently from the ends of his hair.

The morning light swept across the distant terraced fields. Hundreds of flooded paddies refracted rainbow colors at once, casting a glow over the cart.

Utsusemi opened the koban box Tobirama had given her. Inside were eighteen neatly sealed stacks of silver coins and two stacks of gold coins. They were the final payment from selling the modern porcelain.

The money did not amount to a drop in the ocean compared with what was in the Spacetime Tower's vault.

But in these troubled times, a single gold coin was enough for an ordinary person to live comfortably for a whole year.

Running her fingers over the cool metal, she realized that Tobirama, who always wore a stern face, had even taken care to exchange the final payment for gold coins, which held their value better.

That thoughtful consideration was utterly unlike the ninja tribe in her memories, the one that forced young children onto the battlefield.

When she attended Butsuma Senju's funeral, she had been prepared to enter Six Paths Mode and take up arms against the entire Senju Tribe.

They had forced a seven-year-old child onto the battlefield, then carelessly allowed him to be surrounded and attacked by five adults from hostile factions.

Even with only some of Itama's memories, she had considered it a den of monsters.

All she had seen in Itama's memories was brutal training.

First there was Senju Kawarama, who had died at seven, and then Itama Senju, who had nearly died at seven. Every ninja outside the Spacetime Tower's window had worn a vicious expression.

Now she and those two brothers had become close friends who could speak openly to one another.

Such gentle people had been born into this man-eating world of all places,

It must... have been especially painful for them.

The last rays of sunset dyed the mountain road red. The traveling merchant Matsumura and his companions pushed their respective wooden carts along the winding path, calling out their wares.

The konpeito in the glass jars on the carts glittered in the twilight. Once a delicacy only daimyo and nobles could enjoy, it was now something wealthy merchants and commoners could occasionally enjoy as well.

The sound of ox hooves suddenly cut through the bustle of the market. Matsumura looked up to see a magnificent ox cart painted with crane patterns approaching.

A child of seven or eight was driving it, bits of grass clinging to his black ninja clothes.

With hands young but practiced, he was guiding the cart to the side of the road.

"How much for these?" the child ninja asked, pointing at the konpeito and luminous shells on the wooden cart.

When the traveling merchant Matsumura dropped to his knees, he crushed the shriveled wild berries on the ground, and their purplish-red juice seeped into the cracks between the stone slabs.

"Two silver coins per jar, and one for a luminous shell." As he gave the prices, he noticed the cloud pattern carved into the sword at the child ninja's waist, a design only great clans were entitled to bear.

"All of you, get up. I'll buy all of these." Utsusemi's voice came from inside the ox cart.

The hydrangea pattern on her dark green velvet kimono shimmered with a faint light. When the mountain breeze lifted its hem, it revealed butterflies embroidered in gold thread on the lining.

Light refracted through the glass hairpin in her hair, casting flecks of light into blue eyes more dazzling than the stars.

Her eyes were like sapphires steeped in an icy spring, languid yet deep.

The copper bell in Matsumura's hand clattered to the ground, its clear ringing echoing through the silent market.

The traveling merchant Matsumura lowered his head to apologize, only to see Utsusemi tap lightly on the cart wall. "Bring me a few storybooks too."

He hurriedly took three volumes wrapped in indigo cloth from the bottom of his wooden chest. The title, "Warring States Headwind Chronicle," was written on their covers in gold powder. They were newly published historical tales from a bookshop.

Each volume cost one silver coin, but the traveling merchant knew that books like these, intended for nobles, were often prized as gifts.

"I'll take them all." Utsusemi saw that there were only three and bought the lot. The merchant hesitated. "These are... limited editions..."

Utsusemi had already had the child ninja hand over six silver coins, settling the bill together with the konpeito and luminous shells she had bought earlier.

The caravan's old horse suddenly snorted, and Itama took the chance to pop a piece of konpeito into its mouth.

The old horse followed the ox cart for three li before a whistle called it back at a bend in the mountain road.

"Itama, want to ride in an off-road vehicle?" Utsusemi suddenly turned to ask, a teasing smile on her lips.

Memories from several months ago came flooding back. To make it to their father's funeral, they had been forced to bounce along muddy roads after a rainstorm for ten whole hours.

The off-road vehicle had leaped wildly through the potholes, nearly bouncing his insides out.

Worse still, they had changed vehicles three times along the way.

Back then, Utsusemi had still been the hot-and-cold "sister" he was supposed to serve.

He had not even dared to complain and could only grit his teeth and endure the nightmarish journey.

Itama fought to control his trembling fingers and forced out a smile uglier than a crying face. "If you like, Sister, go ahead and drive. I... I've gotten stronger." His voice grew quieter as he spoke.

"What should we do with this ox?" Utsusemi thoughtfully stroked the old ox's coarse coat.

The snow-white draft ox seemed to understand her and docilely lowered its head.

It nuzzled her palm, its large, moist eyes glinting with intelligence.

"Hashirama and Tobirama gave it to us, after all. It would be a waste to let it go, but killing it would be cruel." She sighed softly.

Itama secretly breathed a sigh of relief and quietly tightened his grip on the cart shaft, afraid Utsusemi would change her mind and drive that terrifying off-road vehicle.

He quietly flicked the whip, not daring to say another word, hoping only that their journey would end without incident.

"We're here!" Itama suddenly pointed into the valley. Amid curling steam, a vermilion torii gate seemed to rise from the water. A brightly lit, three-story inn stood at the end of the road, with an indigo curtain bearing the words "Star Inn" hanging over its front entrance.

The elderly manager, wearing a dragonfly-patterned haori and carrying a lantern, had long been waiting at the door. A gleaming Senbon was pinned in her hair.

As she bowed, Utsusemi glimpsed a corner of the Senju Tribe's crest on the back of her neck.

But the Tenseigan saw more: the tattoo had been painted with a special solution, and the full design would appear only when it came into contact with blood.

The innkeeper led them through a corridor. Itama looked at the glowing koi swimming in a ceramic vat beneath the eaves.

"Second Brother raised them!" he cheered, rushing over and startling the koi into flicking up a spray of water.

Itama pressed his face against the guest room window. The window, pieced together from fragments of colored glass, reflected the haze of smoke curling around a distant volcanic crater.

Late that night, Utsusemi had already returned to the Spacetime Tower.

Itama Senju knelt beneath the eaves of the suite's corridor, counting silver and gold coins in the moonlight. At the center of the coins, arranged like a flower, lay a worn Senju crest.

"War again." Sulfurous mist seeped through a crack in the window, mingling with the tremulous notes of a distant shamisen.

He put away his daytime smile, and a cold light appeared on his face, one that could occasionally be seen on Hashirama's and was present on Tobirama's all year round. "I need to buy supplies tomorrow and prepare for shortages."