For the Shiroyasha—a legendary figure who had fought in the brutal Joui War and earned a fearsome reputation as one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Joui—even after witnessing countless comrades die, he still couldn't come to terms with the death of the mother who had given birth to him in this life...
Since the original work never showed even a single scene of this gentle, kind, and caring young woman, nor any details about the cause or timing of her death, Gintoki remained constantly attentive to this mother who had doted on him so dearly.
When Kakashi was born, Gintoki silently prayed for this "great" woman in his heart, because under normal circumstances, there was a high probability she could die from a difficult childbirth.
Only when he saw both mother and child safe did Gintoki finally let out a sigh of relief—though that relief didn't last long before his heart clenched again.
If it wasn't due to childbirth complications, then what was it?
Could he prevent it?
Despite always appearing lazy and unmotivated, deep down, Gintoki had always been concerned about his mother.
He even occasionally suggested she go to the hospital for a full check-up.
War…
The so-called Second Shinobi World War arrived so abruptly.
As shinobi, Hatake Sakumo and his wife immediately obeyed the village's summons, joining all the other Konoha shinobi as they were dispatched in waves to different battlefields.
Perhaps sensing something, Gintoki, for the first time, shed his usual lazy expression.
The night before his parents left for the battlefield, he stood silently in front of their bed, gripping the wooden sword he was so accustomed to, not saying a word the entire night.
They'll die.
These were the words Gintoki wanted to say but knew would be meaningless even if he did.
For these shinobi, stepping onto the battlefield meant casting aside all thoughts of life and death.
To protect the village, to protect their families—they had to throw themselves into the fight without hesitation!
Back when he fought in the Joui War, he had been the same, never dwelling on life or death, only chasing after a goal that always seemed just within reach.
Perhaps, compared to the comrades he had lost in war, he had simply been luckier.
...
Gintoki was woken by the babbling sound of Kakashi.
Opening his eyes, he saw the infant waving his tiny hands and making incoherent noises—and then he suddenly realized something.
The bed was empty, save for a short letter.
Gintoki knew Sakumo had knocked him out.
Whatever he had been thinking, the man must have noticed.
The letter contained only a single, brief line—"Take care of Kakashi, Gintoki."—followed by their signatures.
Gintoki lowered his head, his expression hidden beneath his bangs, his small hand tightening around the paper.
"Ba-ba?"
Not even a year old, Kakashi tilted his head, unable to understand what was wrong with his brother—or that he was about to lose someone irreplaceable.
"I envy you, Kakashi. Right now, you don't know the pain of parting with someone important…"
Seeing the faint glimmer of sorrow—even tears—in his brother's eyes, Kakashi tilted his head again in confusion.
"Sorry, I'm not mocking you. I just…"
Gintoki didn't finish.
He turned his face away.
...
Before the Memorial Stone, Gintoki stood silently beside Sakumo, dressed in black mourning clothes, while Kakashi was cradled in Sakumo's arms.
The sky was dark, oppressively heavy.
The names newly carved into the Memorial Stone had once been living, breathing people—just like the wars Gintoki had fought in before.
A war to protect the country.
A war to change the country.
A war to reclaim something lost.
"Gintoki, your mother sacrificed herself to protect Konoha, and to protect you, Kakashi, and me. You must never forget that. And... I'm sorry. I couldn't protect your mother..."
"Are you seriously trying to get comfort from your own two-year-old child?"
Sakumo was taken aback for a moment, then the knots in his heart loosened considerably.
He gave Gintoki's head an exasperated smack.
"What nonsense are you spouting? Is your backside itching for another spanking?"
Rubbing his head, Gintoki curled his lips.
"I was just thinking if you really wanted to be coaxed and pampered, Gin-san might mercifully comfort you today..."
"Since when do I need comforting from a brat like you who acts older than his age? Enough, let's say goodbye to Mom and head back..."
Sakumo couldn't help but laugh in exasperation, then turned his tender gaze toward the beloved name engraved on the Memorial Stone, staring at it for a long time.
The rain... began to fall.
Feeling the cool droplets on their faces, Sakumo and Gintoki lingered before the Memorial Stone for five more minutes.
After all, for men, letting the rain serve as tears was just fitting.
Without lingering too long, Sakumo, who had briefly returned to the village, received new orders from higher-ups and immediately set off for the battlefield once more.
...
In the same dim, cavernous underground stone chamber where the air was stale and stagnant, the two-year-old Takasugi wiped down a bloodstained sword he'd retrieved from the battlefield with an indifferent expression.
His mission had been to kill ten genin from any village.
Nearby, Madara had already received detailed reports about Takasugi's mission from the White Zetsu assigned to monitor him before the boy returned.
A child who showed not the slightest discomfort after killing and seeing blood for the first time, executing his task with ruthless efficiency—Madara felt he might have truly stumbled upon a treasure this time!
"How was the war?" Madara asked succinctly.
"Boring." Takasugi set the sword aside, resting his small hands behind his head as he lay on the tiny stone bed.
"Heh..."
Madara chuckled, then said solemnly, "This is the nature of our world. There will always be meaningless wars and slaughter, no matter the era."
"Is that so?" Takasugi turned his head slightly to glance at Madara.
"Then I'll destroy this world completely. I want to tear down this rotten, decaying world."
Seeing the boy's expression and knowing there wasn't an ounce of falsehood in his words, Madara was stunned.
He hadn't even started his usual speech yet!
This kid was making things too easy!
"Hurry up and teach me whatever's left," Takasugi said, turning the tables.
"You don't have much time left, do you, Madara?"
Madara was momentarily taken aback by the purple-haired boy's forwardness.
He knew the child was a genius who could speak and communicate normally by age one, but he hadn't expected his mind and thoughts to mature so rapidly at such a young age!
Was this truly divine intervention?
Feeling more convinced than ever that this was destiny, Madara threw his head back and laughed heartily.
"Hahahaha! You're absolutely right, Takasugi! This stinking, corrupt world makes one want to destroy it all! But..."
Madara's tone shifted. "What if we could create a world where no one needs to fight? What if we could forge such a beautiful world?"
"Hmm?" Takasugi frowned.
Seeing the flicker of confusion in Takasugi's eyes, Madara sighed and looked up at the ceiling, beginning to recount the true history of the world as he had deciphered it from the stone tablet.
"Let me tell you the real truth of this world... the truth about the Uchiha clan, and the Senju clan..."