The Game Room and the Izakaya

In the Uchiha Card Room, Chiri leaned back on the lounge chair, her heart heavy, gazing at the distant wall shimmering white under the summer sun.

It was a bit dazzling. Her gaze shifted slightly, noticing that one of the Flame Gunbai arranged neatly on the wall seemed to have been painted incorrectly.

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The entire body of the fan was painted a bright red, standing out starkly against the white wall.

Shifting her body, Chiri felt the softness behind her and sighed. Young people nowadays really don't pay attention. Such a simple task would be better left to the elder group; they could certainly do it perfectly.

"Stop sighing and come play 'Fight Senju,' we're just waiting for you," suggested an elderly Uchiha with white hair, sitting on a low stool beside her, leisurely fanning himself.

The sounds of agreement from around the room, accompanied by the wind from fanning, drifted to Chiri's ears as she rested on the chair.

"I always win more often, it's boring."

Resisting the great temptation of the card game invented by her grandson, Chiri brushed aside the silver strands of hair falling on her forehead and continued to gaze listlessly at the clan grounds outside the door.

Those in the room shuffling cards and moving chairs heard the unspoken sentiment and someone guessed, "Did that brat Rikusei make you angry? Watch me teach him a lesson with my cane."

"My grandson tries to make me happy every day in different ways; I cherish him too much to be angry with him," Chiri replied leisurely from the lounge chair.

"Just say it!"

The Second Granduncle beside her increased the speed of his fanning. The coolness brought by the whirring fan blades dispelled the anxiety in his heart.

"I just remembered, when you were young, you borrowed a batch of Explosive Tags from me, and you still haven't returned them."

Silver threads on her forehead fluttered in the wind, interfering with Chiri's vision. She glanced at the red afterimage on the fan, and dusty memories began to stir. She supported herself on the chair and stood up, saying.

"What ancient history is this! Why are you suddenly thinking of this?" The Second Granduncle stopped fanning, tilted his head, and stated firmly, "Besides, didn't I return half of them to you after the battle back then?"

Standing under the eaves, Chiri gazed at the large building standing in the center of the village and said softly, "I'm worried about my grandson at the Ninja Academy."

"The Ninja Academy has been open for several months now," the Second Granduncle on the stool couldn't help but remind her softly.

"Shut up!"

Her cover blown, Chiri lowered her head and met the gaze of the talkative person, her clenched fists making a "crack" sound. Even though she was old, she could still hospitalize someone with a punch.

"Yes."

The Second Granduncle, adept at avoiding trouble, quickly responded.

"Are you worried about the Senju Clan? But they are starting to disappear."

Someone in the room reminded them. Just a few days ago, these old fogies were discussing this very topic, expressing admiration for the spirit of the contemporary Senju Clan.

"But Hashirama and Tobirama are still here. How can generational hatred be resolved so easily?"

The summer wind blew Chiri's shirt, the plain collar swaying slightly like white clouds. One could vaguely see a ferocious scar, like a centipede, spread across her aged skin.

"That's all matters for the older generation," the Second Granduncle, also lost in memory, said softly, gently swaying his fan.

"Is that so?" Chiri pondered with her head down, then suddenly pulled out a deck of cards from behind her and said loudly, "Enough talk, come quickly and face your death."

The Second Granduncle looked at Chiri, who had returned to her usual lively demeanor.

From the changing expressions on her face just now, he knew she had accepted her age. The matters that followed were no longer their concern, the old fogies.

He knew Chiri still harbored a persistent obsession with defeating the Senju Clan. It was he and she who had gone to the Senju clan grounds together to deliver the challenge for the Dance Competition.

This was no longer a simple clan-to-clan relationship; it had become a more complex village. They were gradually falling behind the times.

Seeing that Chiri could change her mind, the gratified Second Granduncle slowly walked back into the room, fanning himself.

"Next, let's hold a 'Fight Senju' competition with people from other clans!"

The Second Granduncle, who had just looked gratified, quickly stepped forward, his expression changing as he advised the now-interested Chiri, "This name should be changed!"

"Shut up, you're not even listening to Big Sister anymore, are you?" Chiri refused haughtily while shuffling the cards.

The dejected Second Granduncle obediently stood behind her, winking and frantically signaling others to speak up too.

"It really should be changed, Chiri."

"Yes, yes, a competition with other clans, this name is definitely not appropriate."

The solidarity of the elderly did not disappoint him; indeed, everyone stepped forward.

"What should we call it?"

A single question caused the group in the room, whose combined age exceeded three hundred years, to collectively fall into deep thought.

"How about 'Uchiha Card Battle Royale'!"

"No, that's too family-specific. Next!"

"Fifty-four cards, three-player free-for-all?"

"Who thought of that?"

Chiri poked her head out, searching for who had just spoken. If she caught them, they wouldn't have a good time. Such a blunt name was simply an embarrassment to their card room.

"Konoha Poker?"

"Fight the Hokage?"

"Fight the Daimyo?"

Second Granduncle looked at Chiri with a complex expression, "Fight the Hokage—is this something a Konoha ninja could actually come up with?"

Chiri, who was hiding her smile behind a fan, shook her head to indicate that she had already retired and had not received the newly issued forehead protector.

"Then let's go with 'Fight the Daimyo'." Chiri lowered her fan and said to those around her, "Konoha Poker is fine, but it doesn't roll off the tongue; it's not as catchy as 'Fight the Daimyo'."

Compared to the bustling Uchiha Card Room, the Konoha Izakaya seemed much quieter.

The heads of the Ino-Shika-Cho clans gathered together to drink, chatting with bleary eyes about their experiences since joining the village.

After finishing their various duties, they finally had a rare chance to relax, and they intended to make the most of it.

The man wearing a green robe with the Nara clan crest printed on the back hiccuped, refusing the sake offered by his friend, and said, "Choku, don't keep drinking like this. I'll get beaten if I go home like this."

"Well." Akimichi Choku wasn't annoyed; he downed the sake in his hand and said, "Is the Nara clan head mainly in the Administration Department and the Cipher Department?"

Shikahira nodded in confirmation, then glanced around and lowered his voice to reply, "Isn't your Akimichi clan also in the Logistics Department? Don't steal from your own storehouse; if you're going to take action, please let me know."

Regarding his friend's joke, Akimichi Choku merely smiled, patting the shoulder of the man beside him who was drinking in silence, "Inoritsu is drinking alone! Hurry up and tell us about the situation with the Yamanaka clan; the Ino-Shika-Cho are of one mind, after all."

Yamanaka Inoritsu stopped what he was doing, his green eyes fixed on the sake that reflected his troubled face, and said, "It's not that I want to hide anything, it's just that the thought of reading through the messy, chaotic memories of other ninjas gives me a headache."

"Indeed, and I still have to assist Lord Hashirama with various matters outside of my own work." Nara Shikahira downed a cup filled with water and said in a relaxed tone, "Well, it's fortunate that Lord Tobirama is there, otherwise it would be a total nightmare. The village has just been established, and the ninja files and the endless stream of information are piled higher than a mountain."

Shikahira waved his arms, drawing exaggerated circles in the air, complaining about the documents piled into various shapes, which made the others unable to help but laugh.

Akimichi Choku's shoulders shook as he burst into unrestrained laughter.

It was as if he had been transported back to his childhood, when he had first met Shikahira in the Nara clan territory; back then, he had been drawing all sorts of patterns on the ground with a wooden stick, just like he was doing now.

"Well, it's still better than the era of constant slaughter." Yamanaka Inoritsu seemed lost in thought, whispering, "The fact that we can sit here peacefully now—all the credit for this goes to Lord Hashirama and Lord Madara."

Shikahira and Choku nodded in agreement.

Immediately, Shikahira corrected him, "It is Lord Hokage and Lord Madara."

"Hiccup—Lord Hokage's ambition is such that even after establishing the Hidden Village, he still wants to capture the Tailed Beasts." A bit tipsy, Akimichi Choku's head felt swollen, and he slurred his words unclearly.

"That's not right." The sober Shikahira shared his own intelligence; in the Administration Department, he knew quite a few secrets, "It was a suggestion put forward by the Uchiha Clan."

Yamanaka Inoritsu stopped his movements and downed his sake in one gulp. Recalling the figure who appeared like a god or demon amidst the chaotic memories he had analyzed, his eyes regained their clarity as he whispered, "Uchiha Madara?"