After a warm farewell from Tenten's family, Mamoru left alone.
He rubbed his slightly bloated stomach—he had definitely eaten too much just now.
As he strolled leisurely down the street, he pondered where to take a walk to aid digestion.
Mamoru wandered aimlessly when suddenly a man and a woman approached him.
The man wore a green ninja vest and a Konoha forehead protector. One arm was wrapped in bandages and held in a sling across his chest.
The woman wore a plain kimono and clearly looked like an ordinary villager.
"Does your arm still hurt?" The woman asked softly, her eyes filled with deep concern.
"Much better." The man turned and smiled at her, his temple still showing fading bruises. "Don't worry, the doctor said the bone set well. I'll be able to move it again soon."
"Don't be so reckless next time. Do you know how scared I was?" The woman's voice dropped, carrying a slight tremor.
"Yes, I'll be more careful in the future." The man gently took her hand with his uninjured one.
The two spoke softly as they brushed past Mamoru. As their words drifted into his ears, Mamoru suddenly halted.
Severe injury, recuperation, visiting...
As if struck by a realization, he looked up at the faint outline of the hospital in the distance.
The unique building stood quietly, white curtains fluttering behind a few open windows.
Speaking of which, Hiruzen was still hospitalized. Although there was a difference in age and seniority between them, they had, after all, shared life-and-death experiences and fought side-by-side to repel the enemy.
The old man had been seriously injured and bedridden for so many days, and it was inexcusable that he hadn't visited even once.
Thinking this, Mamoru changed direction and walked toward Konoha Hospital.
The closer he got to the hospital, the more he felt the difference from usual.
The entrance had become a swirling vortex of people.
Some people stumbled out, supporting the injured. Others hurried in, carrying fruit baskets. And even more people, looking serious, walked inside while conversing in low voices.
The hospital lobby was even more crowded with moving figures.
Bandaged ninjas stood leaning against the walls, occasionally wincing and sucking in a breath as they moved their wounds while talking.
Relatives and friends gathered in the corridors, some offering quiet comfort, others silently weeping.
Medical staff hurried back and forth, weaving between the various wards.
Mamoru navigated through the crowd to the reception desk and asked the medical ninja on duty for Hiruzen's room number.
The female ninja looked up at him, quickly checked the registry, and provided the room number.
After receiving the answer, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
The dignified military leader was only staying in a regular ward, not even utilizing special privileges.
Should one call this low-key, or simply too exemplary?
...
Arriving at the floor where the ward was located, he saw two Anbu standing guard outside the door from a distance.
They were fully enveloped in their uniforms and masks, standing motionless like statues. Only their eyes sharply turned toward Mamoru as he approached.
"Mamoru?" one of them spoke, his voice muffled through the mask. "Is something the matter?"
"I came to visit Hokage-sama." Mamoru stopped. "How is he? Can I go in?"
The Anbu replied, "Hokage-sama still needs to remain hospitalized for observation. Please wait a moment while I go in and ask."
He finished speaking, pushed the door open, reappeared less than ten seconds later, and stepped aside to clear the doorway. "Hokage-sama asks you to enter."
"Thanks."
"No."
The Anbu paused, his tone serious. "We should be the ones thanking you. If you hadn't come to aid us that day, Hokage-sama would likely have been in danger."
"Don't mention thanks. Everyone was just fighting desperately for the village."
Mamoru nodded at him and pushed open the ward door.
As he walked in, he spoke in a casual tone, "Old man, I came to see you. I rushed over, so I didn't bring any..."
Mid-sentence, the scene inside the room fully came into view—Hiruzen was sitting up in bed, looking much better than before, with a gentle smile on his face. And there was another person sitting by the bed.
Mamoru's voice paused almost imperceptibly before he added the last three words, "...get-well gifts."
The person had brown hair, bandages wrapped around his head and right eye, and a cross-shaped scar on his chin. His face was deeply lined, his expression stern, and he exuded an aura of profound cunning.
This person was none other than Danzo, the leader of Root, who had long lurked in Konoha's shadows.
Just as Mamoru was assessing him, Danzo's exposed left eye slowly turned toward him, scrutinizing him with the gaze of a coiled viper.
Hiruzen laughed heartily, his voice full of vigor. "Hahaha... I thought you had forgotten all about me."
Hearing the robust strength in his laughter, Mamoru felt slightly relieved—it seemed his recovery was indeed going well.
"I was just passing by." Mamoru said with a deliberately nonchalant tone as he walked to the other side of the bed. "I didn't come specifically to see you."
"How heartless." Hiruzen smiled and shook his head.
"Just kidding. I didn't come earlier because I was afraid of disturbing your rest and hindering your recovery." Mamoru's tone became slightly more serious.
"But judging by how you look now, you must be mostly recovered."
"This child... he must be Mamoru."
Danzo's low voice suddenly cut in.
"Indeed."
Hiruzen looked at him, his tone filled with praise. "He was the primary contributor in repelling the invaders this time. He even saved my life. If he hadn't arrived promptly to help, I might not have escaped disaster this time."
"Is that so." Danzo's voice was devoid of emotion.
His exposed eye slowly turned toward Mamoru. "To possess such strength at such a young age... The bloodline of the Uchiha Clan is truly extraordinary."
One of the orchestrators of the clan massacre was now speaking words of praise in such a hypocritical tone.
Mamoru met his calculating gaze, a wave of disgust churning within him. He suppressed his emotions, maintaining a calm expression.
If this wasn't the wrong time, he wouldn't mind eliminating this sinister old villain right here and now.