"Miss, is the funeral over?" Mirai asked a girl of about eighteen.
Tears still clung to the girl's face. She glanced at Mirai, surprised by his deep eyes. Then she nodded and said, "It's over."
"Then..." Mirai hesitated, wanting to ask for some details, but he shook his head. "I understand."
"Wife, who are you talking to?" Suddenly, a middle-aged man who looked like an uncle walked over from not far away.
"Huh? Honey, Mirai was asking me something." Mirai did not care at all, but the girl beside him suddenly waved her hand, immediately shifting Mirai Gray's external focus to an internal one.
Looking at the uncle's sparse beard and sorrowful eyes as he approached, there was nothing remarkable about him apart from that. He did not look like a rich man. Mirai could not help but admire him inwardly.
"Oh, I see." The uncle approached with an umbrella and nodded at Mirai, but said nothing. Clearly, he still held some prejudice against Mirai.
Mirai called out as well and asked, "You know my name, but I still don't know yours."
The uncle answered.
Mirai ignored him. Looking at the girl's delicate and adorable appearance, he could not help shaking his head. What a waste of such a fine cabbage!
After sighing, Mirai continued forward. There were more and more people. No one wore black, yet they all looked solemn. The rainy night seemed to deepen.
Mirai's clothes were still old and tattered, and there were still bloodstains on his shoulders.
Mirai seemed not to feel any pain. Everyone looked at him differently—some with mockery, some with surprise, jealousy, or approval.
On the way, Mirai also ran into people of his generation: Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Inoue, and so on. Naturally, Ikeda was there as well.
When Hinata saw Mirai,