"Your name"

After leaving the training ground, neither of them said a word.

Kakashi Hatake walked ahead with his hands in his pockets, his pace neither fast nor slow. From behind, he showed no intention of starting a conversation.

Uzumaki Hayashi followed, unsure what to say either.

What could he talk about with an adult he had only just met, one who had caught him "in the act," no less? He could hardly ask outright how the man planned to deal with him.

So they walked on, one behind the other, down the long street outside the Ninja Academy and into Konoha's bustling shopping district.

The village was at its liveliest at this hour. Shops lined both sides of the street, the scent of freshly baked treats drifting far and wide. Women carrying baskets, children chasing one another, and ninja hurrying along filled the streets, their hawking, laughter, and chatter mingling together.

Uzumaki Hayashi looked around as they walked, finding it all rather novel.

As the outline of the Hokage Building drew closer ahead, Kakashi Hatake suddenly spoke.

"What do you think of Konoha?"

He asked casually, as though he had simply picked a topic at random.

Uzumaki Hayashi paused, not expecting that question.

"It seems pretty nice," he answered readily.

It was the truth.

He had a little house assigned to him, two B-rank scrolls handed over as a welcome gift, classmates who were all so very "enthusiastic," and mission rewards steadily beckoning to him-

Their enthusiasm might have taken some strange forms, but all things considered, life here really wasn't bad.

"...Pretty nice?"

Kakashi Hatake repeated the words, a rare flicker of surprise appearing in his dead-fish eye.

Before coming here, he had imagined how this child might answer.

On his first day at school, people had pointed at him through a window and called him a monster, while a crowd gathered to laugh and gawk. What child wouldn't resent that? Even if he didn't say it aloud, surely some part of him would think this village was awful.

Yet he had answered so readily, without the slightest hint of forcing himself.

Either this child had swallowed all his hurt and refused to speak of it.

Or he hadn't taken any of those nasty incidents to heart at all.

Whichever it was, that kind of temperament hardly belonged to a twelve-year-old.

Kakashi Hatake turned his head and, for the first time, took a proper, careful look at the child beside him.

Then his gaze stopped.

The breeze along the street lifted a few strands of red hair, sweeping them haphazardly against his cheeks. Naturally fine, they were almost translucent in the sunlight, as though each strand glowed faintly.

His face was fair and clean, his eyes curved with a hint of the delight he had taken in watching the bustle.

Kakashi stared at that face for a moment, falling into a brief daze.

Then something rose from the deepest reaches of his memory.

First the outline, then the eyes and brows, then that elusive resemblance-

Kushina Uzumaki.

His teacher's wife had looked just like this when she was young, with the same red hair, the same eyes and brows.

Only this child's cheeks were considerably leaner than hers had been, his jaw more pointed, the shadows beneath his cheekbones more pronounced.

His teacher's wife had carried a fiery boldness in her expression, while this child had a touch more sly cleverness, like the fleeting shadow of a fish beneath the water, impossible to see clearly.

In that instant, Kakashi Hatake felt that many things had fallen into place.

No wonder.

No wonder the Third took such an interest in this child.

After they had walked a little farther, Kakashi Hatake withdrew his gaze and asked with an air of casualness:

"How long have you been practicing that Ninjutsu you used today?"

"Oh, that one." Uzumaki Hayashi answered offhandedly, "Grandpa Third only gave me the scroll yesterday. I practiced what it said, and this is the only one I can do so far."

Kakashi Hatake's steps faltered.

Yesterday.

One day to go from receiving the scroll for a B-rank Ninjutsu to forming the hand seals and casting it.

He was a renowned prodigy of Konoha himself, the sort who had grown up surrounded by praise. Yet even he had needed far longer than that to fully grasp a B-rank Ninjutsu back then.

And this child made learning that Ninjutsu sound far too easy.

Kakashi Hatake fell silent.

The last person who had made him truly feel the weight of the word "prodigy"...

That person's name had already been carved into the Memorial Stone.

The streets remained lively, but the man walking beside Uzumaki Hayashi grew quieter and quieter. Even someone as oblivious as Hayashi noticed the change in atmosphere.

Huh?

Why did he suddenly stop talking? Wasn't everything fine a moment ago?

Uzumaki Hayashi quickened his pace to catch up beside Kakashi Hatake and raised a hand, intending to pat his back-

But he wasn't tall enough. His palm only reached the middle of Kakashi's back, right over his spine, where he gave two gentle pats.

"Are you okay?"

Kakashi Hatake looked down.

The Redhead child was looking up at him, his eyes clear and open, his concern written plainly in them.

After a pause, the child added:

"Come to think of it, I still don't know your name."

Yeah, right. How could I not know who you are? Kakashi Hatake, the Copy Ninja, the biggest star among Konoha's jonin. I know that name better than anything.

But knowing was one thing. He absolutely couldn't say it aloud.

I can't just walk up and say, well, if it isn't Kakashi Hatake! How would an orphan who only arrived in the village yesterday know that? If I'm going to play a part, I have to see it through. I can't skip a single step.

Kakashi Hatake was silent for a moment.

"Kakashi Hatake," he said. "Just an... ordinary jonin of Konoha."

An ordinary jonin?

Uzumaki Hayashi nearly lost his composure.

If you count as an ordinary jonin, the rest of Konoha's jonin might as well all go home and take up farming.

"I'm Uzumaki Hayashi." His eyes curved into a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Mm."

Kakashi Hatake gave a quiet reply and started walking again.

This time, his steps seemed a little lighter than before.

While they talked, the Hokage Building had come into full view at the end of the street, the enormous character for "fire" on its roof dazzlingly red beneath the sun.

The two figures, one tall and one short, entered the building one after the other.

At that moment, the Third stood before the broad window of the Hokage's office, holding his pipe.

On the desk, the Crystal Ball's glow had only just faded.

The old man's gaze traveled across half the village and settled on the two figures entering the doors below-

One silver-haired.

One red-haired.

The Third tapped his pipe and narrowed his eyes.

"So, they're here."