The courtyard before the narrow veranda.
Thick white snow descended from the sky, blanketing the roses that bloomed year-round in the courtyard.
Gentle whiteness piled up on every surface.
The sky, too, was white, shrouding everything in the mortal world.
Like well-behaved children, Haku and Kimimaro rose early to make breakfast, then went to pay their morning respects to Madara Uchiha.
There was no wind that morning.
It was as though the snowflakes had stolen every sound between heaven and earth.
The night before, Yanbai had carried young Toneri in his arms and taken the terminally ill Mutsuto into Konoha Shinobi Village.
Madara Uchiha had wanted to accompany him, but Yanbai had asked him to stay home and watch over Haku and Kimimaro.
Madara Uchiha sat before the narrow veranda, watching snowflakes fall endlessly from the sky.
Madara could not help remembering when Yanbai had still been sleeping in his coffin. Every year when it snowed, he would carry Yanbai's coffin out of the Mausoleum so they could watch the snow together.
Gazing at the silently falling flakes, Madara Uchiha had the illusion that it was not the snow that was moving.
The white ground was slowly rising.
To Madara Uchiha, the ground rose at precisely the speed at which the snowflakes fell.
"Father, it's time for breakfast..."
With his small hands, Haku set a tray of breakfast on the veranda's wooden floor and pushed it toward Madara Uchiha.
Nearby, Kimimaro dutifully prepared a brazier for warmth.
"How strange." Madara Uchiha slowly turned toward Haku and Kimimaro and asked without emotion, "I have no recollection of you. How did you determine that I was your father?"
That form of address nagged at Madara Uchiha, yet he did not know how to put it behind him.
The two children before him