The cherry blossoms bloom at the spring equinox.
From early April to June, they flower and fade in succession, from south to north.
The rain in May is more than just the tears of late spring.
It falls in a soft, steady patter, without pause.
Like sorrow, like a pain born of love that could never be forgotten...
The night was as dark as iron, and the cold wind sliced through Konoha's empty streets. The cloth sign of a mobile sake stall snapped in the wind like a tattered flag.
Qing Xuan sat alone on a bench beneath a lantern. The resonator of his erhu gleamed coldly in the lonely light, its snakeskin drumhead quivering faintly in the chilly breeze.
A mournful sound rose from the strings with the wind, like a distant wail, or the brittle crack of a dead branch snapping in the gale. The desolate, plaintive tremolo seemed like fallen leaves drifting in the wind, sometimes spiraling upward, sometimes plunging abruptly down.
The winding, melodious overtones were like a bitter north wind blowing through a window lattice riddled with holes. The low, drawn-out notes dragged heavily beneath the bow, like someone trudging onward through the cold night.
He played with his eyes closed, as if unaware of anything around him.
The erhu's resonator hummed, as though the entire night sky were echoing the wind's lament.
Though it was only gust after gust of wind, in this desolate place one could always hear the sound of rain.
The bow slowed, and the lingering notes scattered into the wind, mingling with the nearly hoarse sobs beside him until it was impossible to tell whether the strings were weeping or the wind was crying.
The stall's banner still fluttered in the wind, and a layer of dust had gathered on the bench. He remained in playing position as the cold breeze slowly carried the rosin dust off the bow—like certain stories that vanished forever into wind and rain.
The entire street was silent as still water. Only the bone-chilling night wind passed ceaselessly through every empty corner.
"Serves you right! Let's see if you dare do that again!"
Qing Xuan put away his erhu. The wind made the lantern light sway. He gently brushed the dust from his clothes, then glanced at Tsunade, who was clutching her chest and sobbing as if her heart had been torn apart.
"Liu Yun! Liu Yun! Don't die! Waaaah..."
Already heavy with sorrow, she looked even more miserable after getting drunk. The song had only made things worse, and now she was a complete wreck.
"Pent-up sorrow has to be let out eventually..." Qing Xuan sighed inwardly, but his little face remained stern. He snorted and said, "Those swollen eyes are your punishment! Let's see if you keep gambling recklessly!"
As he spoke, he turned to the young woman beside them. His solemn expression made Ling jolt, though she soon had to stifle a laugh.
This young master of the Uchiha clan really was a tsundere.
Who pulled pranks like this?
She felt sorry for Lord Tsunade, but couldn't help wanting to laugh.
"Ling."
Qing Xuan's voice drifted over, low and quiet.
"I have another song I've been watching over. Would you like to hear it?"
"Huh?"
Seeing the state Lord Tsunade was in, the young woman shuddered again.
"Maybe not? I should get Lord Tsunade home first..."
Remembering how he'd messed with her head that morning, she hurriedly declined. This young master was not someone she wanted to provoke. He knew just how to destroy someone from the inside.
She walked over to the table and was about to help Tsunade up when a deep voice suddenly rang out.
"Kid, that was some fine playing. What's the song called?"
Not even Ling had noticed that, beneath the swaying lantern, a white-haired middle-aged man in a red haori had appeared out of nowhere.
With a stern expression, he sat beside Lord Tsunade and poured himself a drink from the sake flask that still wasn't empty.
Haku warily stepped in front of Qing Xuan to protect him. Chakra flowed through her body, and wisps of cold spread through the chilly air.
"May Rain."
Amid the fallen leaves, Qing Xuan's voice seemed to drift in from the wind, sounding almost ethereal.
"Fine name!"
The middle-aged man slowly drank from his cup. The edamame on the plate beside him, untouched as a drinking snack.
He gazed solemnly into the distance, as if he understood the wild, untamed wind.
Qing Xuan's lips curved. "The song has another name."
"Does it? What is it?"
"The Death of Jiraiya."
Pfft!
Jiraiya finally couldn't keep up the act. He stared at Liu Yun's son in surprise, baffled.
Why was he dead?
Why would Liu Yun's son do this? Had he even composed a song to mourn him?
The mischievous glint in the boy's eyes gave Jiraiya the same familiar feeling as Orochimaru, leaving him inexplicably irritated. He couldn't even enjoy his drink anymore.
Before he could get angry, the child's voice rang out again in the night wind.
"Let the wandering dragon return to the sea; if the sea won't welcome me, Jiraiya, I'll make my own way. Let the fallen leaves return to their roots; if the leaves won't welcome me, the Three Sannin, I'll make my own way. Let the fierce tiger return to the mountain; if the mountain won't welcome me, the Great Toad Sage, I'll make my own way. If the sea of clouds returns to one, and won't welcome me, I'll make my own way."
Huh?
What a stirring poem!
Jiraiya was taken aback. His professional instincts kicked in, and he immediately pulled out a little notebook to write it down. As he scribbled, he cheerfully asked, "Kid, that's a nice poem. Did you write it?"
"Of course I didn't."
A smile appeared in Qing Xuan's eyes. He reached out and patted Haku to get her to lower her guard, then walked over to watch Jiraiya write.
"I read it in a book," he said with a smile, pulling a tissue from his pocket to wipe the snot and tears from Tsunade's face.
"The book is called The Tale of Jiraiya the Gallant."
"The Tale of Jiraiya the Gallant?"
Jiraiya was stunned. He stopped writing and pointed at himself in disbelief. "Is it a novel based on me?"
"Where can I buy it? I want to read a copy."
He was genuinely excited. He'd never expected to have admirers in the ninja world who'd even written a book praising him! They had to be his fans, right?
"It's just a sequel."
Qing Xuan nodded. "It probably isn't for sale yet. It's about what happens after Jiraiya dies in battle and sinks to the bottom of the sea."
Jiraiya's smile quickly vanished. He looked not at all happy. Maybe he'd never been much of a smiler.
"Kid, do you know me?"
Qing Xuan raised an eyebrow, secretly pleased but keeping a straight face. "What? Don't you recognize me, Jiraiya?"
"You..."
Seeing how composed the child was, Jiraiya's heart jolted. He fell silent for a moment, then suddenly had a bold thought.
"Icha Icha Paradise is about to end, isn't it?"
Clatter!
The cup hit the ground. Jiraiya jumped to his feet, pointing at Qing Xuan with a look of utter disbelief.
"L-Liu Yun! You're Liu Yun?"
The plan worked!
Qing Xuan looked perfectly calm, though inwardly he gave himself a pat on the back.
Ever since meeting Uncle Snake, he'd been deeply curious about the father he had in this world. If he wanted to learn enough, who could tell him more than Jiraiya—a close friend of his father's back then, and a pretty straightforward guy?
"You seem pretty surprised that I've come back to life. Aren't you happy?"
Jiraiya's expression grew serious. A sudden chill stirred in his heart, and he stared at Qing Xuan as if trying to see straight through him.
Only when the night wind howled and rocked the lantern violently did he let out a heavy sigh.
"Liu Yun, you're not that kind of person!"
"Then what kind of person am I?"
Qing Xuan pressed him relentlessly, drawing him in further. A sly smile crossed his face. "Do you really know me, Jiraiya? Maybe I'm not..."
As he spoke, he suddenly noticed Jiraiya's gaze turning strange. Before he could react, his ear was yanked, and someone smacked him on the head.
"Huh?"
In his surprise, a scolding voice suddenly rang out behind him.
"Don't go around tarnishing your father's reputation, you little brat!"
"Tsunade? Weren't you asleep?"
"Call me Mother!"
Before you continue