Whether in troubled times or peace, survival came down to sticking together for warmth. A single person's strength was limited; if one insisted on standing out like a crane among chickens, one would only end up isolated.
Uchiha Gen was pulled back to the village chief's home by the older man. Though he was the head of the village, his house was no different from the villagers' homes—if anything, it was even more dilapidated.
There were only three thatched huts arranged in a triangular formation, with a courtyard in the middle.
The village chief grabbed Uchiha Gen by the sleeve, looked up at the houses, and shouted:
"Wife! Bring out a stool!"
"What? A stool?"
Inside the main house, a middle-aged woman with a scarf wrapped around her head was sorting vegetables. Hearing this, she came out curiously to take a look.
"Huh? Where'd this kid come from?"
"Found him at the village entrance!"
"Hah! All you do is talk nonsense!"
"Just mind your own business! I know what I'm doing!"
From beginning to end, Uchiha Gen did not say a word. He silently watched everything in the village.
On the surface, these people treated him fairly well. At least they had not tried to harm him outright.
Besides, he had no idea why this village chief wanted to keep him. Uchiha Gen knew his own appearance best—he looked like someone born into wealth and status.
The village chief brought over a straw cushion for Uchiha Gen to sit on, then the couple returned inside.
"Dear, what's going on? That child clearly isn't from some ditch. What if his family comes looking for him? What are we supposed to do then?"
"What else could I do? It's about to get dark. If we left him outside and wolves carried