More than ten years of time, in the long river of the ninja world, is only a brief flash, yet it is enough to let children grow into tall young men.
The two children who once leaned in Kaguya's arms listening to stories now had tall figures, the childish horns on their foreheads losing their youthfulness, adding a bit of the Otsutsuki clan's unique cold dignity.
This bamboo forest was still the same as back then.
It was just that time had carved deeper marks into the woods. The thick green bamboo had grown even taller, branches and leaves crossing to block out the sky, keeping most of the winter cold outside.
At the center of the bamboo forest a towering temple stood quietly.
Green tiles and red walls, flying eaves with raised corners, copper bells hanging under the roof chimed lightly in the breeze, the crisp sound cutting through the forest's silence.
On the plaque of the temple were written the three ancient characters "Arisu Temple," the brush strokes strong and powerful, faintly carrying Kaguya's handwriting.
Dozens of ordinary monks wearing gray robes held brooms, devoutly sweeping fallen leaves and snow in the courtyard. Their movements were slow and gentle, afraid to disturb the solemn atmosphere.
Incense smoke curled up from the main hall, mixing with the fresh scent of bamboo, spreading through the entire space.
The incense burner outside the hall was filled with incense sticks of different lengths, ashes piled up, showing that people had worshiped here for many years.
This place was built by Kaguya for Arisu, and the location was exactly the bamboo forest where the betrayal and sacrifice once happened.
Every year on this day, she would bring Hagoromo and Hamura here, not for anything else, only for the guilt in her heart that she could not let go of.
In these more than ten years, she had selectively released the Infinite Tsukuyomi illusion, and some humans regained their freedom.
They multiplied and lived on this land, while the God Tree still stood at the top of the world. From time to time, "sacrifices" would be sent beneath the God Tree to become nourishment for the White Zetsu.
Kaguya needed this army to resist the possible accountability of the Otsutsuki clan in the future.
Over time, there came to be three kinds of faith in the world, faith in Kaguya, the God of Creation; faith in the God Tree that kept accepting sacrifices; and faith in the legendary Arisu.
Ordinary people did not know Arisu's past. They only knew he was a hero personally acknowledged by Kaguya, so they came one after another to worship and pray for protection.
"Hagoromo, Hamura, offer the incense."
Kaguya's voice was still cold, but compared to back then it carried more weight of the years.
She stood at the entrance of the main hall, looking at the portrait hanging in the center, her gaze complicated and hard to read.
"Yes, Mother."
Hagoromo and Hamura respectfully took the incense from the monks, lit it, bowed deeply to the portrait, then inserted the incense into the burner.
The portrait inside the hall was lifelike. The young man in the painting wore simple robes, standing tall and straight, black hair lightly flowing, red lips and white teeth, with a bit of arrogance and calmness between his brows. It was exactly how Arisu looked back then.
Hagoromo looked at the portrait, and the doubt in his heart grew stronger.
In these more than ten years, Mother had told countless stories about Arisu, yet she never mentioned his ending, as if this hero had disappeared out of thin air at some moment.
After the worship was done, Kaguya did not stay long. She turned and walked out of the bamboo forest, soon disappearing from sight.
Hagoromo and Hamura moved more slowly. After leaving the temple and seeing their mother gone, Hagoromo could not help but speak, confusion in his voice. "Hamura, I always thought Arisu was a hero Mother made up. Do you think he really existed?"
Hamura stopped walking, looked back at the temple that was faintly visible in the bamboo forest, then looked at the outline of the young man in the portrait.
After thinking, he said, "I think he must have existed. Mother has always been practical. If he were only fictional, she would never spend so much effort building this temple and letting ordinary people worship him for generations."
He paused, then added, "Look at the size of this temple, the incense that never stops. If he were not real, why would Mother go this far?"
"That makes sense."
Hagoromo nodded, but still did not understand. "But I've asked many older villagers. None of them know Arisu's specific deeds. How could such a powerful person leave no trace at all?"
"Mother also never says where he went in the end, whether he is dead or alive."
"Maybe it was too long ago."
Hamura looked at the distant mountains and said softly, "We don't even know how long Mother has lived. Arisu's story might have happened a very, very long time ago, so long that even history did not record it."
This explanation seemed reasonable.
Hagoromo's doubts eased a little. The two stopped talking and walked side by side toward the lake they often visited as children.
The winter wind carried heavy snow, falling everywhere, and the world was covered in white.
The lake surface had frozen into a thin layer of ice, reflecting the faint light of the white snow. The plants along the shore were buried under thick snow.
Only bare branches pointed toward the sky, like a simple ink painting in white.
The snow covered their ankles. Each step left deep footprints. Stepping on the snow made a "crunch crunch" sound, especially clear in the silent world.
"Brother, look, someone is fishing there!"
Hamura suddenly stopped, his eyes lighting up, pointing toward the lakeside.
"Oh? Really."
Hagoromo followed his finger. In the endless white snow, a simple thatched hut suddenly appeared by the lake, its roof covered with thick snow, like a white fluffy ball.
By the shore in front of the hut, a man held a fishing rod, quietly sitting on a stone fishing.
He wore a thin black and red long robe.
The hem of his clothes was gently blown by the cold wind, yet he showed no sign of being cold. His black hair fell loosely over his shoulders, looking even paler against the snow.
"Strange, no one used to live here. When did this thatched hut appear?"
Hagoromo felt puzzled. This lakeside was their secret base as children. After more than ten years away, it had changed like this.
"Let's go take a look."
Hamura's curiosity rose, and he walked toward the shore first. Hagoromo followed closely behind.
The closer they got, the clearer the man's appearance became.
He sat sideways, his side profile smooth, deep eyes and brows, a faint smile at the corner of his lips. He calmly held the fishing rod, as if the wind and snow around him had nothing to do with him.
"....."
Hagoromo and Hamura looked at each other. Both saw a strange sense of familiarity in the other's eyes, yet they could not remember where they had seen him...
"Sir, fishing in the snow, it really has a mood to it."
Hagoromo stepped forward, cupped his hands and smiled, his tone carrying some admiration.
Nowadays, most ordinary people run around for a living, either farming or staying at home.
Who would have nothing to do and fish in the wind and snow in the middle of winter?
Splash!
At that moment, the fishing rod suddenly sank. The man flicked his wrist lightly, a flash of silver scales appeared, and a fat fresh fish was hooked up.
"Such luck! You caught such a big fish!"
Admiration flashed in Hamura's eyes. A fish this size was rare in a winter lake.
The man slowly turned around and looked at them. The smile on his face was gentle, yet his eyes seemed to see through time.
"You two came at just the right moment. Would you like to have a bowl of fish soup together?"
Hagoromo and Hamura looked at each other and saw surprise in each other's eyes. They both nodded. "Thank you for your kindness, sir."
The inside of the thatched hut was simple, with only one wooden table and a few wooden chairs.
Some dry firewood was piled in the corner. The stove burned brightly, warm and cozy, forming a sharp contrast with the icy world outside.
The man skillfully cleaned the fresh fish, put it into a clay pot, added clear water, ginger slices, and some unknown ingredients, then set it on the stove to simmer slowly.
Before long, the rich smell of fish soup spread out. The delicious scent made people's mouths water.
The clay pot was brought to the table. The moment the lid was lifted, white steam rose. The soup was milky white. The fresh smell of fish mixed with the sweet scent of wild fruit, making people drool.
"Wow, it smells so good!"
Hagoromo and Hamura picked up wooden spoons and scooped a spoonful of fish soup into their mouths.
The rich and fresh taste burst on their tongues. There was no fishy smell at all, only the tenderness of the fish and the thickness of the soup. Warmth flowed down their throats, driving away the cold.
"The cooking is amazing!"
"This fish soup tastes even better than Mother's!"
Hagoromo could not help but praise.
"Yes, drinking a bowl of fresh fish soup in the middle of winter is really nice."
Hamura nodded again and again, drinking big mouthfuls of the soup, his face full of satisfaction.
Arisu sat at the side, smiling faintly.
His cooking skills were trained. All these years at Mount Myoboku, facing those "immortal delicacies" made from insects and fungi, he truly could not swallow them, so he had to cook for himself, studying cooking.
Over these thousands of years, he had already developed excellent skills.
After eating and drinking their fill, the stove fire gradually weakened.
Arisu slowly stood up, preparing to leave.
Hagoromo and Hamura quickly stood and cupped their hands. Hagoromo asked, "Thank you for your hospitality, sir. May we know your honorable name? So we may repay you in the future."
Arisu turned around, his gaze resting on their faces for a moment. "No name, no surname. I am just someone forgotten by time."
He then paused, a meaningful smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "There will always be a chance to repay. We will meet again."