Chapter 70: If Being Sad Did Any Good, I'd Cry Right Now
Hiiro Rinko swiftly and silently 'drifted' into the town that now served as Suna's stronghold. The intense gloom radiating from him made him look like a wandering ghost.
The patrolling Suna shinobi were momentarily stunned by his aura, and he had to approach them himself to verify his identity.
Arriving at Chiyo's room, he didn't knock. He silently slid the door open and walked in.
Chiyo, sitting at the desk, didn't look up. She just stared lifelessly at a photo on the table, silent.
It had only been one night, but Chiyo, who usually brimmed with energy as if she were still in her twenties, was now hunched over, looking as if she had aged ten years.
At this moment, Rinko realized that his adoptive mother, who was usually like a mischievous cat, always smiling and cracking jokes, was forty-five years old.
In this world, she was already considered an old woman.
Rinko pulled out a chair, sat down just as silently, and took a water canteen from his wrist scroll, placing it by her hand.
"Drink some water. Even if the humidity in the Land of Rain is higher than back home, you can't go this long without a drop."
"...Get out. Let me have some peace for a while."
Her son's concern didn't make Chiyo look up. She paused for two or three seconds, like a rusted gear, before squeezing out a response. Her voice was incredibly hoarse, no different from the sound of dragging a dry branch across sand.
"Next, because of the loss of Nii-san's puppet unit, the pressure on the forces near the Land of Rivers will be immense. Considering this, to pin down our army and prevent us from reinforcing them, the attacks from the Lake of the Moon direction will probably intensify..."
Seeing Chiyo's reaction, Rinko began to analyze the likely future situation of the battlefield on his own.
He had quickly read the paper report on the way here. The loss of a large number of Puppet Masters was a heavy blow to Suna. If they didn't respond in time, they would be on the back foot.
"I said let me have some peace! Just for a day! Get out now!"
Chiyo clearly wasn't listening. She waved her arm wildly at Rinko, trying to shoo away this brat who was chattering at the worst possible time.
"No."
But her chaotic, weak wave did nothing but knock over the water canteen Rinko had placed by her hand. He easily caught his mother's wrist, facing her with a forceful grip and an even harder tone.
"Nii-san and Chōko-nee weren't the only ones who died on that battlefield. Many more Suna shinobi died too. You are Sunagakure's Commander-in-Chief right now. You can't only see their deaths."
"While it could be a coincidence, we can't ignore the possibility that Konoha sent a master of White Fang's level to attack that unit specifically because Yūsa was your son."
"If you collapse now, you'll be playing right into Konoha's hands."
Rinko's speech grew faster and faster. By the end, his flat, emotionless voice sounded like he was interrogating her.
"How can you say that, you brat?! Yūsa was—"
Fed up, Chiyo yanked her arm back from Rinko's grip, slammed the table in anger, and turned around—only to see Rinko's dead, silent eyes.
That gray color was like scorched earth left behind after all superfluous emotions had been burned away.
"If being sad did any good, I promise I'd cry louder than anyone else."
Rinko let out a soft breath, turning his head to look at the sunlight outside the window, which seemed paler than usual. His tone was utterly flat.
Chiyo's breath hitched, and her entire body sagged. Great chunks of words suddenly gained weight in her throat, choking her.
Ten or twelve years ago, before Rinko was brought back to Suna, this was exactly what he had said when faced with his birth parents' corpses.
"And compared to you and me, this will hurt Sasori even more."
Picking up the fallen canteen, unscrewing it, and taking a sip, Rinko's already unfocused gaze became even more distant, as if crossing thousands of miles to Sunagakure.
"Whether it's you, me, or Nii-san and Chōko-nee, as shinobi who have operated for so many years, we were mentally prepared for this. The dead cannot speak, and we, no matter how much grief we feel, can endure it."
"But Sasori... how is that child supposed to face this?"
Rinko had always cared deeply for his nephew, with whom he shared no blood.
Perhaps because of the red hair that looked so much like his own, or perhaps because of the throb he felt when he saw the child being born, or how quiet and obedient the boy had been around him all these years... there were plenty of reasons.
But in the end, perhaps it was simply because Sasori was 'family' within his reach.
Hiiro Rinko could casually ignore the 'clansmen' he had never met, whom his birth parents had actively abandoned, but he would absolutely not ignore the family right beside him.
"Hey, Old Hag. Usually, I could just take over your command. I can use my brain to direct small-scale skirmishes, but not now."
"I have no experience handling a war involving tens of thousands of people. Any mistake, any decision that isn't 'correct enough,' could cost dozens, hundreds of lives."
Rinko's face remained impassive. "Even if war inherently brings countless sorrows, we at least shouldn't let lives be wasted in vain because of wrong decisions."
"...You're right."
Chiyo slapped her own cheeks, revealing a self-deprecating smile. "To be lectured like this by a brat like you... I really am getting old."
"Old? It's way too early to say that. Pull yourself together. Don't show such an ugly expression."
"Your top priority now is to hurry up and prepare some pranks like usual, and live as long as possible. Wait until you die to give Nii-san, who's been waiting for you for decades, a surprise."
Squinting and throwing out a quip, Rinko stood up and walked toward the door. "Now wash your face, comb your hair, go mobilize everyone, and smash those Konoha bastards' faces in."
"Brat, where are you going?"
Reading the hidden meaning in her son's words, Chiyo frowned, sensing something was up.
"To do what I'm better at, of course."
Stopping at the door, Hiiro Rinko responded with an air of absolute certainty.
"To bet everything... against the enemy."
Then, he stepped into the pale sunlight.
"And curse each other to death."