Chương 261: 260
The festival was in full swing, alive with a vibrant energy that pulsed through the village streets like the heartbeat of Konoha itself. Lanterns, strung high above, swayed gently in the evening breeze, their soft glow casting a golden light over the bustling crowd below. Laughter rang out, blending with the sounds of clattering stalls, the sizzling of festival food, and the occasional cheer as children dashed about. Haruto moved easily through the throng, his senses sharp despite the festivities. A shinobi's instincts were ingrained too deeply for him to fully let his guard down. But tonight, for just a moment, he let himself slip into the rhythm of the festival.
As he weaved through the crowd, Haruto spotted Daichi and Shisui ahead, their familiar faces standing out in the sea of people. For a moment, it felt as if the world shrank to just them, the chaos of the festival fading to the background.
Daichi, ever the charmer, was dressed in a sleeveless white shirt, the fabric loose and light, revealing the sun-kissed skin of a boy who spent his days outdoors. His brown shorts swayed as he moved, casual and carefree. But it wasn't the clothes that drew attention—it was the way he carried himself. That grin of his, easy and infectious, lit up everything around him, making him seem like the sun at the center of the festival. People couldn't help but be drawn to him.
Shisui, by contrast, was a quiet shadow beside him. Dressed in a simple black tunic and matching pants, he seemed almost purposefully subdued, as if he didn't want to stand out. His calm gaze moved over the crowd with the precision of someone always observing, always thinking. Where Daichi radiated energy, Shisui absorbed it, balancing out the dynamic between them. Haruto couldn't help but smile—those two were such opposites, yet somehow, it worked.
As Haruto approached, Daichi grinned wide. "You made it! For a second, I thought you'd ditch us," he teased, his voice light with playful accusation.
Haruto shrugged, smirking. "Thought about it," he admitted, "but then I remembered how sad you'd be without me here to keep you in check."
Daichi laughed, the sound bright and easy. "Sad? Nah, I'd just have to make Shisui talk more, and you know how much he loves to chat." He shot a mischievous glance at Shisui, who merely rolled his eyes.
"Right. Chatting," Shisui muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes, however, had shifted focus to something else—or rather, someone else.
Haruto followed Shisui's gaze and spotted what had caught his attention: a small group of girls had gathered nearby, giggling and casting shy glances at Daichi. Haruto couldn't help but smirk. It was almost too easy. Every few minutes, another girl would approach Daichi, offering a soft greeting or a compliment, only to be met with that same effortless charm. Daichi made each of them laugh with ease, his natural charisma drawing them in like moths to a flame.
"Looks like you've got fans," Haruto remarked, nudging Daichi with his elbow.
Daichi flashed him a grin. "Can't help it. It's the natural charisma, you know? Besides," he added, glancing back at the girls, "I just say what comes naturally."
Shisui raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Naturally? You've had, what, ten girls approach you in the last hour?"
"Eleven, actually," Daichi corrected with a wink.
Haruto snorted. "You'll be 'killing the ladies' in no time."
"Trust me," Daichi said, donning a mock-serious expression, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm an innocent soul."
Haruto couldn't hold back his laughter. "Right. Innocent." But even as they joked, the thought crept back into his mind: Daichi was destined for something bigger. The village wouldn't stay the same with someone like him around. With his charm, his potential as a shinobi, and the added weight of being Kushina's cousin, Daichi would shape things—whether he realized it or not.
The thought made Haruto smile inwardly. The village was in for something… interesting.
Before he could dwell on it further, a blur of green zipped past, catching his attention. There was no mistaking that boundless energy—Guy, a whirlwind of enthusiasm, was darting through the crowd. It had been over a year since Haruto had seen him, but Guy hadn't changed a bit. His green jumpsuit, slightly too big for his still-growing frame, flapped as he sprinted. Yet his eyes burned with that relentless, unshakable determination.
"Haruto!" Guy's voice boomed as he skidded to a stop in front of them, his wide grin even brighter than the lanterns above.
"Hey, Guy," Daichi greeted with a lazy wave, clearly unfazed by the whirlwind of energy before him. Shisui, though, stood a bit straighter, his eyes narrowing in curiosity as he studied Guy's unusual outfit.
Noticing Shisui's confusion, Haruto couldn't resist the chance for some playful banter. "Shisui, let me introduce you to Konoha's future Taijutsu master—Guy," he said with a smirk. His tone was light, but there was truth hidden in the jest.
Shisui raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the high praise. Haruto wasn't one to give compliments lightly, and this made Shisui regard Guy with new interest.
True to form, Guy's response was as loud and exuberant as ever. "YES! I WILL BECOME THE STRONGEST TAIJUTSU MASTER, AND I WILL DO IT THROUGH THE POWER OF YOUTH!" His voice rang out, loud enough to turn a few heads as he struck a dramatic pose, his thumbs-up blazing with passion.
Haruto chuckled. "Of course you will, Guy."
Guy beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "You believe in me, Haruto! The flames of youth burn brightly in you, too!"
Haruto shook his head, grinning. "Always, Guy."
With Guy now part of their group, they continued to wander through the festival, enjoying the sights, the sounds, and the warmth of the crowd around them. As they passed a food stand, Haruto's eyes drifted to a familiar sight—Asuma and Kurenai, standing together, their conversation easy and full of laughter. He tilted his head slightly, watching them from a distance. He couldn't help but think about their future.
It took them so long to get together, Haruto mused, recalling their later years. Maybe it was because of all the things they had to go through—Asuma leaving to guard the daimyo, Kurenai becoming more focused on her genjutsu training… But watching them now, so carefree and lighthearted, it seemed like it had always been inevitable.
As they turned another corner, Haruto spotted Obito, his laughter carried on the wind as he raced through the crowd with a group of kids his age. Not far behind, Shizune walked with a cluster of friends, her calm and composed demeanor already evident, even as a child. It was a peaceful scene, one that radiated the warmth of childhood friendships and simpler days.
The night wore on with food, laughter, and the gentle hum of the festival enveloping them. Lanterns swayed overhead, casting their golden glow as fireworks began to light up the sky in bursts of color. To most, it was just another festival in a long line of celebrations—ordinary, peaceful, and fleeting. But for Haruto, there was something special about tonight.
As the first firework exploded, painting the sky in vivid hues, Haruto tilted his head back, watching the colors reflect off the clouds. The sound of the crowd's cheer briefly drowned out his thoughts, but in the quiet moments between explosions, Haruto realized something. He had experienced this before, in his previous life—moments of normalcy, surrounded by friends, laughter, and joy. But there was a deeper truth now.
The thrill of the fight. The adrenaline. The raw, unfiltered power of being a ninja—it was different. Something better.
And deep down, Haruto loved it.
He had come to terms with it. He hadn't caused Obaa-chan's death directly, but his actions had set the events in motion. He hadn't understood the weight of what he was dealing with, but now that he did, the guilt didn't crush him—it sharpened him. If someone asked him now if he would trade being a ninja to bring Obaa-chan back, he knew the answer without hesitation.
Hell no.
The truth was simple: he wouldn't trade the thrill of this life, the feeling of cutting down an opponent, the rush of blood and adrenaline that came with battle. But he would make those responsible pay. He'd make Danzo beg for mercy when the time came. Days, weeks, months, or years—it didn't matter. Danzo's reckoning would come. And if people like the Hokage stood in his way? Fuck them too.
Haruto would fight, but not for some noble ideal or blind loyalty to the village. He'd fight for the thrill of it, for the power it gave him. He'd protect his comrades—Daichi, Shisui, Kushina, Sakumo, Tsunade, and those like them—but if he wasn't strong enough to protect them? Vengeance would do just fine.
All that talk about the "circle of hatred" from the Hokage and the others—who cared? Haruto wasn't some puppet in a moral lesson. He wasn't going to save the world. He didn't care about peace.
As another firework burst overhead, Haruto smiled—a sharp, dangerous smile that hinted at the storm inside him. All of it—the power, the fight, the challenge—was worth it. And when the war came, the chaos that would follow would only feed that fire burning in his veins.
Haruto knew that he wouldn't stop Naruto from pursuing his ideal when the time came, not because he believed in it, but because he understood a greater truth. Stronger enemies were always on the horizon. With every generation came greater threats, greater challenges. He knew Naruto's enemies would pale in comparison to those that would follow, like Boruto's foes.
He was really looking forward to the fights to come.
Haruto's continued to smile. There was no denying it—he loved being a ninja. The weight of Obaa-chan's death had always been there, pressing on him, but now he understood it wasn't about her. It was about him, about finally seeing himself clearly for the first time.
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực