The celebrations had begun.
It was three in the afternoon when the formal signing of the peace treaty between the Hidden Leaf and the Hidden Cloud concluded beneath the Hokage Tower. Almost instantly, the village transformed into a roaring festival of jubilation. Colorful paper lanterns stretched across rooftops. Shinobi in formal dress uniforms mingled with civilians in festive garb. Streamers danced in the wind, and the smell of roasted chestnuts and sweet dango lingered in the air.
In the main square, thousands of villagers raised their voices in collective cheer:
"Konoha! Konoha!"
"Long live the Hokage!"
"Peace has finally come!"
The square was packed shoulder to shoulder. Fireworks began to climb the late afternoon sky, painting bursts of vermillion and sapphire across the clouds above. The explosion of color reflected in the proud eyes of the older shinobi. Many among them—scarred jōnin, retired veterans, and war orphans—stood silently, lips trembling, too overwhelmed to cheer.
Some had fought in the Third Shinobi World War. Others had lost teammates. A few had nearly lost themselves.
But peace—genuine, fragile peace—was worth celebrating.
Even if it wouldn't last.
---
🚶♂️ In the Shadows of the Square
Amid the waves of elation, a small group of Hidden Cloud shinobi exited the plaza quietly.
Their leader was a lean, middle-aged man with a dark blue flak jacket and a forehead protector tilted over one eye. His shaggy hair fell to his collarbones, and his exposed eye was a sharp amber, filled not with relief—but disdain.
He heard the cheers.
He saw the dancing children waving Konoha flags.
And he smiled.
Not kindly.
"Konoha… You celebrate like fools. But the game isn't over."
This man was none other than the same Hidden Cloud envoy who, in another timeline, would attempt to kidnap Hyūga Hinata and lose his life to Hyūga Hiashi.
His presence here now was a volatile seed in the soil of diplomacy—one that might yet sprout thorns.
Watching from a nearby rooftop, Nara Shikaku stood beside a pair of ANBU. His usually relaxed posture was taut, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Tatsuya-kun's speculation… could it be coming true already?
The Nara clan head said nothing aloud, but his shadow crept across the roof tiles like a second mind, poised and alert.
---
🌸 Elsewhere in the Village – Yūhi Kurenai
While the crowds roared, Yūhi Kurenai moved like a quiet breeze through the celebration. Her crimson eyes flicked across faces in the crowd, searching.
Where was he?
She hadn't seen him since the treaty was signed.
Tatsuya-kun… didn't come to the ceremony?
She tried to push down the sting of disappointment. It felt wrong, enjoying the moment without him beside her. His absence turned the vibrant atmosphere oddly hollow, like music with a missing chord.
Beside her, her father—Yuhi Shinku—smiled knowingly.
"You're not with your friends because Tatsuya-kun isn't here?"
Kurenai gave her father a sharp glance.
"Otōsan! Don't tease me."
"I'm only observing." He chuckled, sipping from a warm cup of tea.
She looked away. Truthfully, she'd avoided her usual circle of friends on purpose. She didn't want to run into Sarutobi Asuma again.
That boy—brash, arrogant, constantly boasting about being the Hokage's son—was the antithesis of Tatsuya.
Tatsuya, who remained composed in every battle.
Who never flaunted his achievements.
Who had faced down the Fourth Raikage and returned without a word of it.
Low-key. Mature. And strikingly handsome, too—though she'd never admit that aloud.
Asuma talks. Tatsuya acts.
And somehow, that meant everything.
---
🌙 At the Village Cemetery
Away from the cheering, far from the noise, Tatsuya Hoshino stood quietly in the village cemetery. He wore a black longcoat over his jōnin uniform, the collar turned up against the wind.
He wasn't there for celebration.
He was there to remember.
The gravestone was simple—polished stone, no elaborate carvings, just a name engraved in careful script.
Nohara Rin.
Tatsuya gently poured water across the stone, then placed a fresh bouquet of white lilies at its base. The petals rustled faintly.
"She was my only family," he murmured.
He wasn't overcome with grief—how could he be? He'd never met her. But the truth had been burned into his mind by fragments from the system, bits of lineage, memories touched by chakra.
He was Nohara Rin's younger brother.
Half-blooded. Lost in paperwork. Forgotten by the village, by even the clan itself.
His full name had once been Nohara Tatsuya.
But names didn't matter much anymore. The world never gave him the chance to know her. She had died before the Nine-Tails attacked the village.
Tatsuya smiled faintly.
If I'd come into this world a few years earlier, maybe things would've been different.
Maybe he could've grown up with her. Maybe he could've stopped Obito from falling into darkness. Maybe...
Maybe.
But regrets were a shinobi's burden.
Not an excuse.
---
🦊 A Familiar Presence
Without warning, another figure approached the grave.
He moved with practiced silence. Short silver hair. A mask over his lower face. One eye—lazy, half-lidded—fixed on the same gravestone.
Hatake Kakashi.
Tatsuya didn't flinch. He sensed him before he arrived.
Kakashi knelt and placed a single daisy beside the lilies.
"…Long time no see," Kakashi said softly. "Hello, Tatsuya-senpai."
Tatsuya nodded. "Kakashi."
The two stood in silence. Wind stirred the trees. Crows cawed once in the distance.
Kakashi's voice finally broke. "I… wanted to say sorry."
He bowed deeply, his back bent at a respectful angle. "For Rin. For everything."
"If there's anything I can ever do for you—anything at all—I'll do it. I swear."
Tatsuya watched him quietly.
Say that now, but if I asked you to take down Hiruzen, you'd sell me out before the sun sets.
Still, he didn't voice it.
Instead, he said calmly, "You don't owe me anything. Rin made her choice. She died to protect the Leaf. That decision is hers."
He placed a hand on Kakashi's shoulder.
"Where the leaves dance, the fire will burn. Sacrifice is not meaningless."
Kakashi stared at him—eyes wide, lips parted.
Tatsuya continued, voice deep, steady. "The night gave us black eyes, Kakashi. But we still choose to seek the light."
The words felt strange, even to him.
A line that sounded wiser than he believed it to be.
But Kakashi froze.
That sentence struck something deep.
As if something in him cracked.
He looked at Tatsuya with awe, reverence—his mind echoing those words:
"The night gave us black eyes… but we still seek the light."
---
✨ A Shinobi's Resolve
To Kakashi, the sentence was more than metaphor.
It was a philosophy.
Live on. Carry the pain. Protect the future.
He bowed again, this time not out of guilt—but admiration.
"Tatsuya-senpai… I'll remember that."
Tatsuya nodded, already turning to leave.
In truth, he wasn't thinking about philosophy.
He was already planning something else.
Raikiri…
If I can get Kakashi to teach it to me, I'll finally have a piercing technique worthy of Flying Thunder God combos.
And if not?
He would take it anyway.
---