Investigation

"Huh?"

On the room's bookshelf, Sakuya pulled down an old book. He deciphered the characters on the spine. "Dai... ly... Cook... ing, Complete Guide?"

And so, in his spare time, Sakuya began to help his teacher with chores. Sometimes, when the teacher didn't make it back by mealtime, he would try out the recipes from the book. Unexpectedly, he seemed to have a talent for it. The cooking skills he honed from a young age would also save him a lot of effort in the future. Of course, that is a story for another time.

Some time had passed since that skirmish which had nearly taken everything. On this summer night deep in the mountains, a cool breeze blew, dispersing the day's heat and gently brushing against the small wooden cabin that stood stubbornly in the forest clearing.

Inside, candlelight was the only source of light. It wasn't as dazzling as the sun, but it made the small space feel exceptionally warm. In the center of a crude wooden table sat a cake with a peculiar shape, even sagging on one side—clearly handmade with care (though limited skill). Seven thin candles with dancing orange flames were stuck into it crookedly. Beside it were a few plates of rare cooked meat and brightly colored wild fruits, prepared for more than just filling their stomachs.

Today was Uchiha Sakuya's seventh birthday.

Lian's face still carried a hint of weakness from his recent recovery, but his large eyes were brighter than any star, filled with pure excitement and anticipation. He stood on tiptoe, carefully pushing the biggest, reddest wild fruit toward his brother, then looked nervously and expectantly at the teacher sitting in the shadows.

The teacher was still wearing that dark, old robe, as silent as a rock. But a faint, strange, sweet scent of fermented fruit drifted through the air, coming from the polished wooden cup in front of him.

Sakuya looked at the seven dancing flames, feeling a strange, warm swelling in his heart. A birthday? He had almost forgotten the word, remembering only vaguely that a long time ago, his mother would gently stroke his hair... He couldn't even figure out how the teacher knew the date.

"Brother, quick, close your eyes and make a wish!" Lian couldn't hold back, whispering urgently, his small hands nervously clutching his shirt hem.

Sakuya looked at his brother's sparkling eyes, then snuck a glance at the teacher's silhouette, which seemed a little softer than usual in the candlelight, and obediently closed his eyes. What did he wish for? He hoped... he hoped Lian would never be hurt again, hoped... that they could always be like this... He blew out all the candles with a forceful breath.

In the small wooden cabin, Lian's happy, earnest clapping immediately rang out—crisp and solitary, yet filled with sincere joy.

After a brief silence, the teacher picked up the wooden cup in front of him but did not drink. His gaze rested on the candles, which were emitting thin wisps of white smoke, as if he were engaged in a silent struggle. After a long while, he spoke in a tone that sounded no different from usual, yet made the brothers hold their breath:

"Seven years old... not a small child anymore."

His left hand slowly raised, with a near-stagnant solemnity, toward the collar that was always pulled high to cover his chin and mouth, and the mask he had never once removed.

Sakuya and Lian's eyes went wide, their mouths slightly agape, completely stunned. The teacher's face! This was their greatest curiosity, a taboo they never dared to touch!

The collar was slowly pulled down, and the mask was gently unfastened and removed.

The candlelight finally illuminated the face that had always been hidden in the shadows without reservation.

Hideous, wrinkled scars covered half his face like a twisted centipede, telling the story of a terrifying past. But beyond the scars, his jawline was sharp, his lips thin, currently pressed into a cold, hard line from tension. Without the covering, his entire presence seemed to change—less awe-inspiring mystery, more shocking reality, and an indescribable trace of being eroded by time and pain.

Sakuya and Lian both held their breath, not out of fear of the scars (they were already accustomed to all kinds of wounds), but stunned by this sudden, massive "revelation." They vaguely sensed that this was not just a face; it was the teacher opening a heavy door for them that had never been unlocked before.

The teacher did not look at them, as if this simple action had exhausted his great strength. He picked up the wooden cup and downed the clear liquid inside in one gulp. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he frowned slightly, stung by the homemade spirits, causing the scars to shift.

Then, he picked up the small flask and, for the first time, poured a tiny amount into an empty cup in front of Sakuya—just enough to barely cover the bottom.

"Want to try?" he asked, his voice sounding even deeper and raspier than usual.

Sakuya's heart hammered like a rabbit in his chest. He looked at the clear, pungent liquid at the bottom of the cup, then at the teacher's eyes, which in the candlelight no longer seemed bottomless but reflected a hint of warm flame. Finally, he nodded firmly, with the courage and curiosity of a young beast.

He mimicked the teacher, holding the cup with both hands, and mustered the courage to pour the liquid into his mouth in one go.

Instantly, a burning, spicy sensation rushed onto his tongue and into his throat, making him cough violently. His face turned beet red, and tears welled up uncontrollably.

Watching his disheveled yet adorable appearance, the corners of the teacher's usually cold, scarred face seemed to twitch upward, ever so slightly and stiffly.

It couldn't even be called a smile, just a barely perceptible muscle spasm. But to Sakuya and Lian, who were staring at him intently, it was like seeing the first crack in the ice of a frozen winter, filled with an incredible impact.

The teacher... could have an expression like that?

Lian was extremely curious, leaning over to whisper, "Brother, what does it taste like? Is it good?"

Sakuya was too choked to speak, only shaking his head vigorously, sticking out his tongue and fanning it with his hand, his face as red as the wild fruit on the table.

The teacher didn't pour him any more, simply pouring a little more for himself and drinking slowly. The room grew quiet, but it was no longer a tense silence; it was a... clumsy, warm tranquility that belonged only to the three of them, flowing slowly.

The candlelight flickered gently, softly bathing the three faces: a scarred man drinking in silence, a seven-year-old boy with teary eyes but shining pupils, and a younger brother full of curiosity and joy.

Outside the cabin lay the pitch-black, boundless deep mountains and lurking dangers; inside was a brief but incredibly real warmth.

At this moment, there was no heavy past, nor any unknown future. There was only a small cabin, a master and his two disciples, celebrating a child's hard-won seventh birthday.

This faint, precious warmth, like the light of the seven candles, was deeply branded into the young hearts of Sakuya and Lian, becoming an important memory to sustain them through the long years ahead. And the teacher, on this night, seemed to have briefly set down some of his heavy burdens, tasting a bit of that bitter yet sweet aftertaste known as "bonds."