Shin

Souya and Sasori walked along the streets of Sunagakure. As for Pakura... after delivering the fruit basket, she hurried off.

For Souya, it was just a small interlude. After all, in the Ninja World, where life was so uncertain, he wouldn't consider anything else until he had enough strength to protect himself.

The wind howled above the village with a low, "Whooo," but the villagers were already used to the sound, so it did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm.

"Come take a look! Horse sausage smoked with secret sauce and spruce leaves!"

"Once you've had one, you'll be craving another!" A middle-aged man with a bushy beard called out loudly from the street corner.

Hearing him, Sasori went straight over to the stall. He bent down, picked up a sausage, and squeezed it to test its texture.

Souya could only follow behind with a helpless expression, eyeing the rows of smoked sausages on the stall with distaste.

Unlike ordinary sausages, these smoked horse sausages were enormous. Most were about as thick as an adult's arm and nearly as long.

This unusual food had appeared in Sunagakure only two or three years ago. Supposedly, it came from an ancestral recipe belonging to a tribe deep in the Land of Wind.

Souya had never understood why Sasori had been drawn to such a dry, blackish food.

Just looking at it killed Souya's appetite. The first time he'd taken a bite after Sasori coaxed him into trying it, he'd spat it out on the spot—and felt sick for days afterward.

But according to Sasori, the "Dark Gourmet," he loved its robust, chewy texture.

Souya could only say that chewing the sausage had felt like having a bucking, epileptic horse galloping across his tongue.

It wasn't the sort of thing an ordinary person could stomach...

Souya figured that Sasori might have suffered such a terrible blow as a child that he'd closed himself off emotionally. Maybe such an extreme, intensely stimulating food could open his heart and let him taste life again...

According to the vendor, smoked horse sausage was packed with nutrients. If children grew up eating it, they were sure to become strong and healthy!

Souya watched Sasori leave the stall carrying several long strings of sausage, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Souya, I'm going to bring some of these sausages to Grandma. Want to come with me?" Sasori asked.

"Um... Chiyo's getting on in years, and her digestion might not be great. Horse sausage probably isn't the best food for her..." Souya hinted, somewhat worriedly.

"Is that so?" Sasori tilted his head slightly.

"Of course. But if you just want to bring her a little to try, that's fine." Chiyo had often asked Souya to report on Sasori's whereabouts, and he'd learned quite a few ninjutsu techniques from her in the process.

Souya was still grateful to Chiyo.

Seeing Sasori and Chiyo reconcile meant that he'd done his job as a "Life Mentor."

After all, the two of them were now working toward the same difficult goal, so it was only natural that their rift would begin to heal.

"You go on ahead. I'm heading back to the Temple, too!" Souya had no intention of going with Sasori.

By afternoon, Souya had returned to the familiar Temple.

From a distance, he saw a towering Ginkgo Tree rising behind the Temple, its broad branches spreading in every direction.

The leaves seemed to be draped in rosy clouds. Under the sunlight, they shimmered with a bewildering array of colors, not merely green.

The wind caressed them, and the light seemed embedded in the leaves, flickering as they swayed. Like sunlight glinting off rippling water, it was a rare sight in the desert: a lush, vibrant tree. This might well have strengthened the faith of the common folk living nearby.

Worshippers were arriving in an endless stream today, and wisps of incense smoke curled upward before the wind scattered them high above.

"Uncle Hua Yan!" Souya called.

The middle-aged monk, who was attending to the worshippers, brightened. After hastily exchanging a few words with the people in front of him, he came over to greet Souya.

"I heard you were hospitalized. Are you all right?" Uncle Hua Yan grabbed Souya by the shoulder and gave it a few pats.

"If I weren't, would I be standing here? Don't worry, I know my limits," Souya said with a laugh.

"Everyone in the village has been talking about it. They say you took on three of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen all by yourself and saved quite a few of our village's ninja..." Uncle Hua Yan was certainly well-informed.

"Ah, I let my guard down! I nearly lost my life..." Souya replied helplessly, still a little shaken.

"You must know your limits, assess the situation, and never act rashly. Your own life is what matters most!" Uncle Hua Yan lectured him.

Souya chatted with Uncle Hua Yan for quite a while before heading to the back courtyard.

He lifted his head to gaze at the Ginkgo Tree's lush green leaves overhead. Sunlight passed through the gaps in the branches, leaving fan-shaped shadows scattered across the ground.

"You're back?" an aged voice called out.

"Yes, Master... I'm back..." Souya looked toward the building ahead. An elderly monk stood in the doorway, small in stature but bright-eyed and vigorous.

A gentle breeze passed through, rustling the leaves as the shadows on the ground swayed along with them.

The two went inside, and Souya launched into a detailed account of everything that had happened lately.

A kettle sat atop the charcoal brazier. Red coals licked at its base, and every so often, the water inside bubbled.

The Old Monk listened quietly, smiling. Only when Souya spoke of the dangers he'd faced did his expression occasionally falter.

"That's about it!" After finishing his story in one breath, Souya felt thirsty. He looked down and saw that a steaming cup of tea had already been placed on the table. Warmth filled his heart.

The golden tea held a few green leaves and grains of rice. Souya raised the cup and drank. Along with the faint fragrance of green tea was the rich aroma of specially roasted rice. The two blended together, making for a fresh, mellow taste that went down easily, with a lingering sweetness.

"Souya... There's something I've wanted to ask you for a long time." After Souya finished his tea in one go, the Old Monk quietly picked up the boiling kettle and refilled the cup before him.

"You grew up in the Temple, but you've never seemed to believe in these gods and Buddhas. Is that right?" the Old Monk asked.

"That's right," Souya replied frankly.

"Why?" the Old Monk continued.

"Because gods and Buddhas, as objects of faith, can only restrain the behavior of the devout. When they encounter nonbelievers or people of other faiths, they can instead spark conflict."

"And monks devote their lives to serving the gods and Buddhas, yet they never see them manifest to save the people."

"The Temple is a spiritual home for those who long for peace. It can't bring true peace, nor can it shield us from the turmoil of reality." Souya answered without hesitation.

The Old Monk fell silent at this reply. As a monk who had spent his entire life sincerely pursuing goodness, he had also witnessed countless years of war and strife.

He knew full well that Souya's words struck at the very heart of religion.