Konoha Hospital.
Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting dappled light and shadows across the hospital room floor.
Sasuke slowly opened his heavy eyelids. The first thing he saw was a head of brilliant blond hair, gleaming warmly in the sunlight.
Naruto sat in a chair beside the bed. Seeing him wake, he broke into a bright smile. "You're awake? You're a girl now."
Sasuke: "???"
The black-haired boy tried to sit up abruptly, only to be hit by an overwhelming wave of weakness. He had to ease himself back onto the pillow.
The movement left an unhealthy flush on his pale face.
"All right, all right."
Naruto hurriedly waved his hands, his tone light.
"You just used too much chakra during the fight. It's not like you were badly injured down there. I was only kidding."
"Hmph. Lame."
Sasuke turned his face away, his voice still hoarse from his condition.
"Whether it's lame isn't the point. It was just a little joke, like that Majestic Destroyer Flame you used."
Seeing Sasuke press his lips together, Naruto dropped his smile and said seriously, "Listen, if you really want to get stronger, you can't just feel your way through training on your own. Besides, you're pushing yourself a little too hard."
His gaze casually swept over Sasuke's dark eyes.
Sasuke couldn't die!
It wasn't that Naruto had any deep affection for him. It was just...
At the very least, nothing could happen to him before those eyes evolved into the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.
They were a crucial bargaining chip for facing powerful enemies in the future.
"I don't want to lose such a rare opponent."
Naruto added this casually, hiding his true calculations beneath concern.
"Once you're discharged, let's train together."
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting dappled light and shadows between them.
Sasuke remained silent, something seeming to flicker in the depths of his dark eyes.
"Mm..."
He considered it privately.
Naruto was indeed stronger than him. Since he was willing to offer guidance, there was no harm in learning his methods.
But just then, a terrifying thought flashed through his mind.
"Wait."
"I'm not wearing a green bodysuit and shouting about youth or whatever."
Sasuke eyed Naruto warily, unconsciously shifting backward.
He knew perfectly well that Naruto often trained with Might Guy.
The thought of that thick-browed ninja's training methods sent a chill down Sasuke's spine.
Naruto froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "What are you thinking? I don't even do that myself. Why would I make you do it?"
He spread his hands helplessly. "I can't stand that style either, but taijutsu can still help you get stronger."
Seeing Sasuke's doubtful expression, Naruto added, "Relax. I definitely won't make you wear a bodysuit. But..."
He deliberately drew out the word.
"If you really want to try it, I could put in a word with Guy-sensei."
"No need!"
Sasuke immediately cut him off, his tone firm.
After visiting Sasuke at the hospital, Naruto's Shadow Clone found a deserted corner, formed hand seals, and dispelled itself.
With a soft pop, the white smoke dispersed.
Almost simultaneously, Naruto, who was pretending to listen attentively in class, paused slightly.
Countless fragments of memory surged in like a tide.
But Naruto soon put the matter out of his mind.
There were more important things to consider right now.
His fingers spun his pen absently as his thoughts raced.
Which book should I "write"?
Surely I couldn't actually write The Overbearing CEO Falls for Me?
Even setting aside whether that sort of book suited this era, just imagining publishing it under his own name was embarrassing enough.
He furrowed his brow.
As for Xuande Literature...
Naruto considered it, only for his shoulders to slump.
The problem was, he'd never read any!
The tip of his pen tapped lightly against his textbook, making a steady, quiet sound.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
Did not having read any mean I couldn't write it?
At that thought, a sly smile curled the corners of Naruto's mouth.
That's what I'll do!
He quietly clenched his fist.
Poverty really could bring out a person's potential. Right then, Naruto could almost see the royalties beckoning to him.
After school that afternoon, Naruto skipped training. Instead, he used the Transformation Technique, bought some manuscript paper, and went home to start writing.
Come to think of it, the Icha Icha Paradise Naruto wrote in the original story seemed to have sold even better than Jiraiya's, and had even settled a war.
So this body did have a gift for it!
I'll just use the Transformation Technique when I go to publish it.
In the bookstore that weekend, the editor stared at the manuscript, his eyes wide and the pen in his hand trembling slightly.
"And at that moment, Shimura was enduring another kind of exhaustion.
He pounded his aching lower back, and the old wooden bed groaned in response.
Life in a small country was impoverished like this. That was why Shimura wanted to make a name for himself, end this age of chaos, and let everyone live good, peaceful lives.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shimura struck a match and lit a cigarette, his movements carrying a certain ritual solemnity.
It was as though this was not the beginning of a rest, but the prelude to another mission.
Smoke drifted through the air, carrying his thoughts away as it slowly dispersed.
He knew that some knots could not be untied even with ninjutsu, and some paths were destined to be walked alone.
A faint movement came from the bed.
Chiyo lay wrapped in the covers, fine beads of sweat still clinging to her skin, like a rose in the morning dew.
Her soft breathing rose and fell with a perfectly measured, seductive rhythm.
An ordinary man would surely have succumbed once more.
But Shimura merely gazed quietly at the glowing ember between his fingers.
As a ninja, he knew all too well that desire was a trap more dangerous than any enemy.
He took a deep drag, feeling the coolness of nicotine spread through his veins.
All things would eventually return to dust.
Even the most exquisite flower, even the most breathtaking beauty, could not escape the ravages of time.
So-called beauty was nothing but a fleeting bloom.
How could a moment's pleasure compare with the tangible improvements that training brought?
Chiyo's beauty was indeed dizzying, her stretching limbs seeming to offer a silent invitation.
But to Shimura now, all of it put together felt less real than his next cigarette.
He lit another.
Fresh smoke twined around the embers of the previous cigarette, tracing a boundary of clarity through the intimate air.
The tiny sparks of a burning cigarette soothed him more than any words of love.
On this night filled with temptation, only those flickering embers were his true companions."
(End of volume one)
"Fuck, he's practically turned into a philosopher just from having a cigarette after sex."
The editor stared at the manuscript and couldn't help muttering a curse, yet a trace of envy tugged at his lips without him even noticing.
The weariness and composure of Shimura that permeated those lines, mingled with a strange charm, actually stirred a little longing in him-a man confined to the cramped space of a publishing office, spending his days dealing with ink and calculations.
He shook his head, banishing that impractical fantasy, then put his professional enthusiasm back on display. Leaning forward, he addressed the black-haired man who had been silently waiting across from him:
"This really is an outstanding piece! Whether it's the prose, the atmosphere, or... that distinctive flavor, it's all first-rate. We'll sign you!"
The editor spoke decisively. To show his sincerity, he gestured with both hands. "We'll split the royalties sixty-forty! Sixty for the bookstore, forty for you. How does that sound?"
These were exceptionally generous terms in the industry, especially for a new author.
Seated amid light and shadow, the black-haired man raised his eyes slightly, his expression utterly calm, as though he had expected these generous terms all along.
He merely nodded and uttered a single word:
"Agreed."
The editor breathed a sigh of relief and immediately pressed his advantage. "Wonderful! Then may I ask, sir, what is your pen name?"
"Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng."
The ordinary-looking man gave a pen name that had been famous in his previous life.
"All right, your book's identification number is 399532157."
The editor smiled as he spoke to the man.
"Please come back in a while, and we'll show you a sample copy."