At night, the campfire burned quietly as Yu recounted the events of the past across space and time, speaking with the air of someone who had lived through them.
Unexpectedly, Sarada remained remarkably calm from beginning to end.
Yu asked curiously, "I'm a complete stranger telling you tales that sound like pure fantasy. Aren't you suspicious?"
Sarada hugged her knees, the flickering campfire reflected in her eyes. "The old me would have found it unbelievable. But what I've gone through these past years taught me to use my own eyes to judge the truth. If you were making up lies to deceive me, you would have to want something. And if you wanted something, you could simply use a dojutsu to force me to do it. There would be no need to beat around the bush like this. More importantly, I sense something from you—a sense of mission similar to mine, but far greater..."
Yu asked again, "Then where does your calm come from? Why can you remain so composed after learning and believing such a momentous truth?"
Sarada said, "I don't know either. I just don't feel anything... Perhaps it's because there is no one left in this space-time whom I can be attached to. No matter how vast this space-time is, no matter how many bizarre beings exist within it, none of it has anything to do with me. When it comes down to it, death is all there is."
She was so young, yet so painfully mature. But the price of that maturity was far too great.
Once she had confirmed Yu's identity, Sarada set aside her hostility and took the initiative to say, "Earlier, you asked whether my right eye was originally mine. It wasn't. It was the only keepsake my father left me. Before my