When Naruto returned to his original time and space, he couldn't help but feel a little regretful.
He stood on top of the Underground Palace and Altar, with the remains of the sealing formation left by Minato Namikaze at his feet.
The seal has been re-closed, the runes of Purple Eyes are slowly flowing on the stone surface, and the power of Dragon Vein is once again bound deep in the earth.
He looked down at his palms. The residual warmth of Golden Chakra still remained between his fingers, but that journey through time and space was over.
He failed to obtain the techniques of Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
Naruto clenched his fists and suppressed the trace of regret. He also had his own path to take.
The paths of predecessors can only be used as a reference, not as a standard answer.
He Naruto Uzumaki will have his own technique and his own path.
After leaving Underground Palace, Naruto began to wander among the ruins of Rōran.
The sky is still full of yellow sand, the ruins of the walls are still dilapidated, and the wind whimpers through the empty window lattice.
He walked through the cracked streets and the Stone Pillar half-buried in the sand, his eyes scanning every Corner.
He did not find Sara, nor the descendants of Sara.
That Red-Haired Girl, that girl with tears falling from the corners of her eyes when singing in the Underground Palace, that girl who was held by his wrist through the empty streets, is no longer here.
Neither are her descendants.
The entire Rōran ruins were empty, with nothing but wind and sand and Ruins.
Yes, Rōran has become like this, how could anyone live here?
Naruto smiled to himself.
What is he expecting?
Looking forward to Sara still alive?
Looking forward to that Red-Haired Girl still waiting for him in this Ruins twenty years later?
I am not a GalGame hero.
He shook his head and shook those unrealistic thoughts out of his mind.
He took out from Sealing Scroll the cake that the old man at Merchant Caravan had given him.
He met the old man when he was crossing the desert. He was a wrinkled old man in the camel caravan. Hearing that he was going to Rōran, he stuffed a few pieces of pancakes for him.
At that time, Naruto also secretly stuffed him with some money.
The pancake is wrapped in paper, hard, browned on the surface, and sprinkled with sesame seeds.
Naruto took a bite and made a bang sound, almost chipping the tooth.
Really hard.
He chewed hard twice until his cheeks were sore before he managed to swallow the biscuit.
While eating, he felt that he had eaten something foreign.
My teeth bit into something tough, not as crisp and hard as the pancake itself, nor as tiny as sesame seeds.
Is it a note?
Naruto was stunned for a moment, then took the thing out of his mouth.
It was a cotton thread with a dark color Red Eyes.
Naruto stared at the thread for two seconds, then looked down at the remaining half of the cake in his hand, and suddenly smiled.
"If I eat a few more pieces, I can probably get a carpet."
He chuckled lightly, put the thread into Scroll, and took another bite of the pancake.
This time he chewed more carefully, but the cake was so dry that he had to stop.
He took out the water bag, pulled out the stopper and drank a few sips.
After drinking, he wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and exhaled a long breath.
This pancake is really dry.
He looked down at the half piece of cake in his hand, and then at the empty Ruins around him, and suddenly felt a little funny.
He stood alone in the Ruins of Rōran twenty years later, chewing on a piece of cake that was so hard that it could kill someone, and chewed out a thread in his mouth.
The time-space journey just now was like a dream, as if everything was buried in the yellow sand, leaving only the dead silence in front of me Ruins.
Naruto endured the discomfort and stuffed the remaining pancake into his mouth, patted the cake crumbs on his hands, and put on Hood and the face towel again.
The wind and sand are still blowing, and the ruins are still whimpering.
He turned around and walked towards the exit of the Rōran ruins. Golden's figure gradually blended into the yellow sand in the sky.
Land of Rivers, a little old man wearing a bamboo hat slowly walked to the river.
Land of Rivers is famous for its many rivers. Large and small rivers crisscross the territory, nourishing the land like the blood of the earth.
There are thick reeds on both sides of the river bank, which rustle when the wind blows. Egret passes over the water, leaving a series of ripples.
There are more ferrymen here, and every few steps you can see a Black-Awning Boat moored on the shore. The boatmen gather in twos and threes under the shade of the trees to chat, waiting for guests to come.
"Ferry?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi looked at the fisherman Black-Awning Boat in front of him with his back to him and asked with a smile.
He wore a coarse cloth robe, and the hat was pulled down very low, covering most of his face, leaving only the gray temples and a small gray beard on his chin exposed.
The old man's tone was relaxed and casual, like an old man who was out for a walk and took a boat ride along the way.
The man didn't respond.
The fisherman sat at the stern of the boat, with his back to the shore, holding a fishing rod in his hand and the fishing line hanging into the water.
His figure is broad and strong, and the lines of his shoulders are clearly visible even under his loose coarse clothes.
The bamboo hat is lower than Hiruzen Sarutobi, and the whole face is hidden in shadow.
"Fellow, would you like to set up a ferry?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi asked again, with a smile in his voice, and pushed up the bamboo hat, revealing his gentle yet sharp eyes.
The fisherman took off the bamboo hat on his head and slowly turned back.
The moment the bamboo hat was raised, the sun shone on that face.
His black hair is like a waterfall, and the thick black hair is spread around his shoulders, with a few strands falling in front of his forehead, making his chiseled face even more resolute.
His brows were furrowed, his brows twisted into a deep "Sichuan" shape, the corners of his mouth were pressed downwards, and his dark brown eyes were staring straight at Hiruzen Sarutobi on the shore, his eyes heavy, as if they were bearing a huge weight.
That expression clearly said, "Do you still have the nerve to come see me?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi was stunned.
He froze on the river bank, his eyes widened under his bamboo hat, his lips were slightly open and did not close for a long time.
The river breeze blew, the reeds rustled, and Egret passed between the two of them, and he didn't even blink.
Because the person in front of me is the founder of Konoha, the first Martial Arts Alliance Leader, Hashirama Senju.
The person who is already dead.
How could a dead person appear in... suspended death?
"Third will continue to serve as Martial Arts Alliance Leader after the death of Fourth Hokage," Hashirama Senju spoke, his voice low and hoarse, with a heavy feeling soaked in water vapor.
He slowly stood up, Black-Awning Boat swayed slightly with his movements, he casually placed the fishing rod on the side of the boat, and the fishing line drew a slender ripple on the water.
"Monkey, are you addicted to officialdom or something?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi's Adam's apple moved, and his old face under the bamboo hat turned pale for a moment.
He opened his mouth to say something, but he swallowed the words again.
He looked at Hashirama Senju's resolute and gloomy face, and saw the complex emotions surging in those dark brown eyes that he had never seen on First's face.
Disappointment, anger, exhaustion, and something deeper and unspeakable.
"Teacher..." He finally squeezed out a few words, his voice as dry as sandpaper rubbing against a wooden board.
"Don't call me teacher," Hashirama Senju lifted up Teuchi and cut him off. His palms were rough and wide, and there was still river mud between his fingers. "You are quite comfortable being Martial Arts Alliance Leader, right? After the death of the young man named Minato, you continued to sit in that seat for more than ten years.
Monkey, how old are you this year?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi was silent for a moment.
"Seventy-four."
"Seventy-four."
Hashirama Senju repeated the number with an inexplicable sarcasm in his tone.
He lowered his head and looked at his open palms.
"So I'm almost a hundred years old, Monkey."
The river wind passed between the two of them, picking up the moisture from the water and hitting Hiruzen Sarutobi's face.
He stood on the grass on the shore, the hem of his coarse robe gently fluttering in the wind, and his old face under the bamboo hat looked particularly old in the shadow.
He did not refute or defend.
Because every word Hashirama Senju said is true.
After Minato died, he should have stepped down and let a new generation take over. But he didn't.
He sat in that seat again and sat there for more than ten years. Until the Naruto generation had grown up, he was still there.
"Come up," Hashirama Senju turned around and sat down at the stern of the boat again, with his back to Hiruzen Sarutobi on the shore, "Aren't you going to cross the river?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi hesitated for a moment, then stepped on Black-Awning Boat.
The boat sank slightly under his weight. He held the side of the boat and sat down opposite Hashirama Senju. He took off his bamboo hat and put it on his knees.
The two of them sat face to face in the small cabin, and the river breeze came in from both ends of the awning, blowing Hashirama Senju's loose black hair and also blowing Hiruzen Sarutobi's gray temples.
Hashirama Senju picked up the fishing rod resting on the side of the boat, flicked his wrist, and the fishing line bounced from the water, drew a bright silver arc in the air, and fell back into the water in the distance.
He didn't look at Hiruzen Sarutobi, his eyes fell on the water, but his voice came over him heavily.