"Who are you?"
Hayashi stopped, resting his hand on the wheelchair's push handle.
"Why are you standing here so late at night?"
There was no answer from behind the mask.
The man did not even glance at him again. He merely took two or three indifferent steps to the side, clearing the middle of the road.
Hayashi looked past him.
An old man had appeared in the center of the road at some point.
The insects in the alley had fallen silent without him noticing.
The old man was even thinner than Grandpa Third Hokage, his back slightly stooped and a cane in his hand.
Bandages were wound around his head and right eye, leaving only a cloudy left eye exposed.
An old, cross-shaped scar ran across his chin.
His dark robe hung down to his feet, its right sleeve tucked inside, motionless the entire time.
He simply stood in the shadows beyond the streetlight's reach. There was no telling how long he had been there.
Standing behind the wheelchair, Hayashi tilted his head slightly to look at him, his eyes involuntarily widening for an instant.
But that fleeting dilation of his pupils was caught by the old man's left eye.
The old man gave a low chuckle.
"Konoha's Dragon Princess. Quite an imposing title."
"The way you resolved things in the Land of Waves... very interesting."
"Only, you're far too softhearted, just like Sarutobi."
Hayashi's heart skipped a beat.
Konoha's king of blame-
Those words nearly slipped out, but he swallowed them back down.
He recognized the man, of course, but he could hardly admit that.
Besides, bringing the Demon and the boy with Ice Release all the way back to Konoha really had not been very "ninja" of him.
Still, there did not seem to be any need