Chapter 43

The Land of Earth is largely covered by desolate, jagged rock walls. Crossing the craggy border, the horizon suddenly opens up. Compared to the rolling mountains of the Land of Fire, the dense forests of the Land of Lightning, or the sprawling swamps of the Land of Water, the terrain of the Land of Earth offers little in the way of concealment, second only to the sand-swept Land of Wind.

Because the rock formations mostly hug the borders, transportation into and out of the Land of Earth is inconvenient. Having spent seven days traveling here, Hashirama, as an outsider, received a level of attention second only to that in Konoha Village—not to mention that this outsider was quite handsome!

Smiling as he thanked an old man for the cup of fresh water—water is a precious commodity in the Land of Earth—Hashirama began asking the locals for the location of a nearby inn. He was not far from his mission objective and needed a short rest.

"An inn? Cough, cough! It's a good thing you asked me; the others might not even know what that is!" the old man said. "Hardly anyone comes here, so what use is an inn? Just find a family to put you up for the night. Let me think, who has a spare room..."

"Would that be a bother to everyone?" Hashirama asked.

"Cough! Not at all, not at all! Look, they're very welcoming!"

A quick glance around showed curious gazes from all directions, making Hashirama's mouth twitch.

Without the stimulus of the Uchiha's frantic wealth-gathering from his original world, the Senju Clan's industrial development in this world was limited. It was said that their interests were mostly confined to the Land of Wind and the Land of Fire—at least, he hadn't encountered any along his journey.

He began to understand why Madara, despite being a ninja, was committed to spreading their influence across the entire continent... Given Madara's fastidious standards of living, he would never willingly stay in such a backward place for even a moment longer than necessary. He demanded the best food, the best clothes, the best tools, and the best lodging; he was a man who wouldn't lift a finger for anything. In short, Uchiha Madara never allowed himself to be wronged in the slightest.

...So, it could only be Hashirama Senju who suffered the indignity...

He sighed silently, wondering if Madara had managed to empty the Uchiha clan treasury here. His thoughts drifted, and the image of Madara in a loose yukata, hair flowing, leaning against a door and waving at him while saying, "Go early and return early," surfaced in his mind... It really felt like a wife seeing off a husband on a long journey... What am I thinking!

The old man was still talking, but seeing the young man's mind drifting elsewhere, he clenched his fist and gave two coughs.

Hashirama snapped back to reality and offered an apologetic smile.

"Young man, what are you thinking about that has your face all red? You should listen carefully when an old man speaks. As the saying goes, if you don't listen to the elders, you'll suffer for it. Let me tell you..." The old man seemed to love lecturing young people. Forced to listen for a quarter of an hour, Hashirama couldn't help but interrupt, "May I ask where I can find a place to stay?"

"Ah? Oh, I'll take you—by the way, where are you from?" The old man leaned on his cane and led the way at a leisurely pace.

"The Land of Fire, Konoha."

"Konoha? What kind of place is that?" The surrounding people pricked up their ears as well.

"A ninja village."

A sudden, deathly silence fell over the area.

"A ninja village?!... Y-y-you're a ninja?" The old man trembled like a leaf, and his cane clattered to the ground.

The curiosity that had lacked malice a moment ago instantly transformed into fear and hostility.

Hashirama's heart sank slightly, but he maintained his goodwill toward the villagers, bending down to pick up the cane and returning it to the old man's hand.

"Thank you for your guidance."

With that, he turned and left. It seemed he would have to rely on Military Ration Pills and Wood Release to get through the night.

Not every village was like Konoha... he knew this clearly. This was the very thing he had always wanted to change, so he wouldn't fret over the reality—reality was meant to be changed. That was why he longed for Konoha to bring about such change, much like Muyun City in the other world. He had even decided to emulate the First of this world once he returned to his own.

But once outside Konoha, the situation hadn't changed much. The will and the shade of Konoha could only cover the area around Konoha itself; the world remained as it was.

The First here might have tried, but there was ultimately a gap between vision and practice. Once Konoha was built, the pattern was set; merely preserving that achievement was precarious enough, let alone attempting anything else... the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

Was this what he wanted?

...No, it wasn't enough. Konoha alone was far, far from enough!

"Rock rain! The rock rain is coming! Quick, hide in the houses!" Someone shouted, and the crowd on the road panicked. No longer caring about the ninja, they scrambled into their homes and bolted the doors. Before long, a low hum echoed from the western horizon, and gray-yellow sand and stone swept in.

Pat! Pat! Clang, clang, clang! Stones pelted the ground and the surfaces of the houses. The villagers listened to the heavier-than-usual impacts, their hearts filled with terror.

"Ah! What about Jiro—my Jiro! Jiro is still outside! Someone, save him!" A door suddenly opened, and large chunks of sand and stone rolled in before it was forced shut from the inside. The man's voice, suppressing his grief, drifted out: "Don't be foolish, Haruna! Taro, Saburo, keep a good eye on your mother! I'm going to find him!"

Bang, bang, bang. A rhythmic knocking remained clear amidst the sound of sand and stone battering the house. The family inside was stunned.

"Who is it?"

"Daddy, it's me!" A crisp, childish voice came from outside.

"Jiro! It's Jiro!" The woman wept with joy. "Quick, open the door, husband!"

The man opened the door to be greeted by his son's innocent smile, the boy completely unscathed. And holding his son was... the ninja from before. The child dove into his father's arms: "This uncle brought me back! Uncle is so amazing!"

The man stammered, "...Thank you very much."

Hashirama smiled gently: "It was the right thing to do."

The woman rushed over to hug her son, kissing him repeatedly, before standing up to say to Hashirama: "Thank you! Thank you! If you don't mind, please stay at our house tonight!"

"...So, the best time to capture the scenery of the Land of Earth is late summer or early autumn. It's not as desolate as winter, nor as sweltering as midsummer. By dusk, when the sun has just dipped halfway, the warm golden-red light illuminates half the rock wall. With sharp light and shadow, the endless yellow roads and the abruptly rising rocks are all bathed in this glow. The magnificent yet slightly sorrowful colors provide a shock that is hard to describe! Plus, 'rock rain' rarely breaks out at this time, so we ordinary people can be a bit safer."

Madara rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, smiling as he listened to her finish. "Miss Hayakawa is truly well-traveled. Listening to your descriptions makes the whole world seem much more beautiful."

The young woman's face flushed as she looked down, her neat bangs hiding the shyness in her eyes. "Not at all. Lord Madara is a ninja; you must have been to many more places."

"I have indeed been to many places, but because I always traveled with a purpose, I rarely noticed these beautiful sights like Miss Hayakawa does. Now that I think about it, I don't know how much beauty I've missed. If it were Miss Hayakawa seeing these sights, you would surely be able to bring even more paintings to everyone," Madara said with a sigh, a hint of regret on his face. "I think it is precisely because Miss Hayakawa truly loves this world that you can discover beauty others cannot and paint these works filled with hope."

"Lord Madara, you praise me too much!" The young woman blushed slightly. "I've only been painting for less than two years; I'm still far behind my grandfather!"

"You mean Mr. Hayakawa Masato? That Painting of Mountains and Rivers Reflecting the Sun is beautiful—a rare, grand, and majestic piece compared to other paintings." Madara praised. Japanese-style paintings often had elegance but lacked momentum; it was rare to find a masterpiece that fused delicate grace with such grandeur. That Hayakawa Masato seemed to be a talent hidden among the common folk, capable of learning to paint with a deep family tradition. He wondered which fallen noble family he descended from.

"Yes, Grandfather was most satisfied with that painting! It's a pity it has already been sold," the girl said sadly. She and her grandfather hadn't been settled here long, and life was difficult. Konoha had only just been built, and the people gathering here didn't have much spare money to buy art. The only person who wanted to buy a painting had taken a liking to that one, so they had no choice but to sell it. "Grandfather kept talking about it for a long time afterward."

Those who made a living selling art understood that the works into which they poured their heart and soul were, in the eyes of buyers, merely wall decorations that could be replaced at any time. If the buyer understood art, it was fine, but if they didn't, it would surely be ruined.

Madara swirled his teacup and said with a smile, "I was the one who bought it."

"Ah, that's wonderful!" the girl said, pleasantly surprised. "If it's Lord Madara, you will surely treat it well!"

"Naturally. I've always admired Mr. Hayakawa Masato's paintings, but unfortunately, I've never had the chance to meet him."

The girl puffed out her cheeks. "Grandpa is like that, always running around. Once, he almost got investigated by the Konoha Defense Department. He went to the Land of Water for inspiration a few days ago and won't be back until the end of the month. I'll notify Lord Madara then, okay?"

"Really?" Madara's joy was immediately evident. "Thank you very much, Miss Hayakawa! By the way, hearing you say that, were you and Mr. Hayakawa Masato wandering around before settling in Konoha?"

"Ah, that's right. Grandpa made money by painting while taking me and my brother around to various places."

"You must have been to many countries."

"Yes, besides the Five Great Nations, we've also been to the Land of Fields, the Land of Bears, the Land of Grass, the Land of Waterfalls... Look, these are records from our travels there!" Hayakawa Rei stood up and removed the dust covers from a row of paintings. The vibrant colors were striking. The snow-covered scenery of the Land of Snow in the twilight, the rugged rocky mountains of the Land of Earth under the setting sun, the sparse trees of the Land of Grass on a summer afternoon, the leaping streams of the Land of Waterfalls in early spring... In addition to landscape paintings, there were also some paintings of town markets. Madara immediately recognized one of them as Izumo City in the Land of Lightning, though it wasn't as prosperous as in his original world.

"His brushwork is strong and vigorous. Even the gentle water contains vitality. As expected of Mr. Hayakawa's style." His gaze slowly swept across the paintings, Madara commented on each one. In his heart, he silently analyzed the dates and locations recorded beneath each painting, while subtly probing the girl for information.

A painter who had wandered through various countries for many years, capable of moving in noble circles and frequenting rural markets, would know far more than any Konoha Intelligence Department. On the other hand, the paintings sold here were mostly landscapes, with very few people... Madara smiled meaningfully. Was this a case of protesting too much?

"Sister! I'm hungry!"

Madara looked in the direction of the voice. A child, about five years old, was half-leaning in the doorway. He bore a slight resemblance to an Uchiha, except his black pupils regarded Madara with only vigilance.

The girl was startled and subconsciously glanced out the window. "It's already noon. I'm sorry, Lord Madara, for wasting your time!"

"It's alright. Miss Hayakawa's brother is very cute. No one would want to let such a cute brother go hungry." Madara gave the child a smile. The child flinched slightly but glared back defiantly.

The girl patted her cheeks. "When Grandpa isn't here, I'm the only one taking care of him—Kazuya, go wait inside. I'll be right there!"

"His name is Kazuya?"

"Yes, Sai Kazuya."

Madara showed a hint of surprise at the opportune moment. "Sai? Why not Hayakawa?"

The girl's expression dimmed slightly. "Grandpa found this child. The world was too chaotic a few years ago..."

"I'm sorry, I brought up a sad memory. Since Miss Hayakawa is busy, I won't disturb you any further."

Stepping out of the Hayakawa family's art shop, the midday sun was blindingly bright. Madara glanced back at the sign, his thoughts unreadable.

Hayakawa... Sai...

Comparing this with information from another world, he smiled silently.

Coming out for a stroll always yields unexpected rewards, doesn't it?