Beneath a sky just beginning to pale with dawn, the quiet streets shed the last traces of night, like a sleeping beast slowly opening its eyes.
Pairs of brand-new or battered straw sandals hurried along the main street, carrying goods from the warehouses to their appointed destinations as they waited for horse-drawn carts to arrive from afar and load or unload their cargo.
The inn was modest, with only three floors.
Rikusei had already woken, and he could clearly hear the clamor from the street below. Keen hearing was, of course, one of a ninja's basic abilities.
Rikusei's clear, handsome face, still dotted with water droplets, was reflected in the brand-new mirror. A good night's sleep had left him refreshed, and a hint of the morning sun's new warmth shone in his fine brows and the corners of his mouth.
The knock at the door cleared the sleepy haze from the boy's eyes in the mirror. Coming to his senses, Rikusei scooped up some water and splashed it over his cheeks. Then he gave himself an encouraging smile and left the room.
He took the scroll, backpack, and short blade from Madara, secured them neatly on his person, and headed downstairs.
Sitting at a roadside stall, Rikusei gazed at the bustling street. The crowds and clamor hardly seemed like those of an early summer morning. A cargo-laden cart hurried past them.
"They're from the Senju Clan," Uchiha Madara said to the ninja who had turned to head toward the next cart.
Rikusei had no reason to doubt his teacher. Among outsiders, only the Uchiha could remember the faces of so many members of the Senju Clan so clearly.
After finishing breakfast, the two stood beside the street. Madara paused, letting the steadily rising sun cast its light over him as