Once everything was arranged, Genya enjoyed a rare uninterrupted night's sleep.
There was no crying in the middle of the night, no pounding on his door in the morning, no screams of "Dad, I can't find my socks!"
By the time he woke, sunlight was already spilling through the gap in the curtains.
He rolled over, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and closed his eyes to sleep a little longer.
Then he realized he couldn't fall asleep. Not because he wasn't tired, but because he wasn't used to this anymore.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time.
For the past six years, he had barely had a single proper day of rest. Every day, the children were there when he opened his eyes and still there before he closed them.
Now the children had been sent off to the various families helping him out, and the house was as quiet as a library.
Instead, he couldn't sleep.
Genya sat up and rolled his neck. His vertebrae cracked a few times, like rusty gears starting to turn again.
He looked down at his hands. When he clenched his fists, there was an unfamiliar sluggishness to them.
He rolled his shoulders too, and a faint grinding sound came from the joints.
Looking at the sunlight outside his window, he suddenly realized how long it had been since he'd had a proper fight.
At the Training Ground, Hashirama wore an old-fashioned training outfit as he hammered a wooden post with punch after punch. Wood chips flew, and cracks spread across the ground from the base of the post.
Hearing footsteps, he stopped and turned to see Genya emerging from the shade of the trees.
Hashirama's eyes lit up.
"Well, this is a rare visit. What brings