"What a powerful... (terrifying) woman."
Under the porch of the small house, the "Primary Color Trio" watched as Tsunade, mid-conversation with their teacher, suddenly erupted and snapped a massive tree with a single punch. All three of them swallowed hard in unison.
This wasn't the first time they had seen Tsunade, and they knew she was a shinobi of the same caliber as their sensei. However, seeing such raw, brutal destructive power up close still left them caught between awe and bone-deep dread.
"I really hope we can become that strong one day," the blue-haired girl, Konan, whispered with envy written all over her face. "Then no one would ever be able to bully us again."
Before meeting Jiraiya, her life as an orphan had been a desperate struggle for survival. Her dreams were modest: to stay with Yahiko and Nagato and live a life free from persecution.
"What's the point of just being strong?" Yahiko countered, shaking his head. "Even if the Land of Rain has a shinobi as powerful as Hanzo, we're still stuck in endless war. Shinobi kill each other, and civilians are left displaced or dead. The only way to achieve true peace is to build a bridge of understanding. If people from all nations can communicate and clear up their misunderstandings, war will become a thing of the past."
He recited his dream once more, his voice filled with conviction.
Nagato, ever the silent one, remained quiet as usual. He simply watched his companions, then shifted his gaze back to Tsunade and Jiraiya in the distance.
Inside the room, Nawaki had been startled by the resounding crack of the tree breaking. He scrambled to the window, panicking, and only breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just his sister's handiwork.
Behind him, Hatani—who had been equally surprised but far less worried—strolled over to the window. He looked at the tree, which was thicker than his own torso and now lying in two pieces, and his eyelids twitched.
Violent. That was the only word for it. He suddenly felt a surge of respect for the sheer "bravery" displayed by Dan Kato and Jiraiya.
Just then, Yahiko's voice drifted in from outside—vibrant, high-spirited, and sounding like a revolutionary manifesto. Nawaki's eyes shimmered with a sense of yearning.
"Peace, huh?"
Having seen too many displaced refugees, starving orphans, and even the horrific reality of cannibals on the road, Nawaki was deeply moved by the idea.
"Hatani... do you think he's right? Could doing that actually bring about peace?"
Nawaki turned to Hatani, his eyes full of hope. Over their brief time together in the Land of Rain, he had developed a habit of reflexively seeking Hatani's opinion whenever he was troubled.
"Sure," Hatani began. He paused, a flash of cold resolve crossing his eyes. He let the silence stretch for a moment, letting Nawaki's hope reach its peak before dousing it with a bucket of ice water. "If you believe in fairy tales."
"Why?!" Nawaki bristled. "I think what he said makes perfect sense."
"Sense? In what way?" Hatani asked with mock curiosity, his voice rising just enough to be heard clearly outside.
"If you build a bridge for communication and let people talk things through, you eliminate misunderstandings! And without misunderstandings, you lose the primary trigger for war, right?"
"Heh." Hatani let out a loud, derisive laugh, making no effort to hide his disdain. "It's one thing for those Land of Rain kids to be kept in the dark, but have you already forgotten why Mimura-sensei said this war started in the first place?"
Seeing Nawaki opening his mouth to argue, Hatani cut him off.
"It's because Amegakure wanted to become the Sixth Great Hidden Village. It's because Hanzo of the Salamander wanted to be the Sixth Kage."
At the mention of their fallen teacher, Nawaki's voice immediately lost its edge. His heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and guilt for the man who had died to save him.
"Exactly," Hatani said, shrugging. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the three silhouettes outside the window had vanished. "That fact alone proves that everything you just said is nothing but empty talk."
"By what right do you look down on Yahiko's dream?!"
The door was slammed open before Nawaki could respond. Konan marched in, a paper flower tucked into her blue hair. Her face was flushed with indignation as she glared at Hatani.
"When did you hear me look down on it?" Hatani asked, looking at her with a mask of perfect innocence.
"You... you said... you said Yahiko's dream was just empty talk!" Konan was so angry she began to stutter.
"Hey, now, this is all just a misunderstanding..." Nawaki tried to play peacemaker.
"Heh. Since when did telling the truth become an insult?" Hatani smirked, cutting Nawaki off.
Nagato stepped into the room behind Konan, his eyes narrowing beneath his long bangs. He was a boy of few words, but he believed in Yahiko's vision. His parents had been killed because of war—killed by Konoha ninja, no less. To see a Konoha ninja now trampling on a dream of peace was more than he could stand.
"You think I'm wrong?"
Yahiko was the last to enter. He seemed annoyed but remained relatively composed, looking at Hatani with genuine curiosity. "Then tell me, what did I get wrong? If people communicate and remove misunderstandings, how is that not a bridge to peace?"
Clearly, they hadn't heard the part where Nawaki mentioned the political ambitions of Hanzo and Mimura-sensei's death.
"If I talk about high-level geopolitics, you probably won't get it. Let me tell you a story instead," Hatani decided. He knew telling them their country started the war would be a hard pill to swallow, so he opted for a more direct parable.
"Imagine two villages next to a small river. Both villages have crops that need water to grow. However, the river is too small; there isn't enough water for both sets of fields. In that situation, what do you think happens?"
He paused, watching the three of them. Their expressions shifted into varying degrees of thought.
"They should split the water equally, obviously," Yahiko answered instantly. It was a classic idealist's response.
This was exactly why so many idealists fell. In their minds, everyone else should hold the same "correct" and "moral" views they did. Unfortunately, history—and even their own comrades—often proved them wrong. Hatani thought of real-world history, like Blaise Compaoré's betrayal of Thomas Sankara. Nagato and Konan might not be traitors, but their stiffened expressions suggested they knew the world wasn't as simple as Yahiko's heart.
"Heh." Hatani chuckled again, seeing the conflict on their faces. "It seems someone here has already figured it out, so I won't waste my breath."
He turned toward his bed, glancing deeply at Nagato as he passed.
"Anyway, I'm tired and I'm going to sleep. I'll see you around. But before I go, I'll leave you with a bit of advice."
He sat on the edge of the bed. Through the wind, he sensed two familiar presences lingering just outside the room—Jiraiya and Tsunade. He looked Yahiko in the eye and spoke in a low, heavy tone.
"Baseness is the passport of the base; Nobility is the epitaph of the noble."