After Konoha's support squad arrived in Kirigakure, their first priority was naturally to meet with the conservative faction. So that very night, under cover of darkness, Hoshiyomi's ten-man team quietly slipped into the village.
Kirigakure had long been ravaged by factional conflict. Ordinary patrol units no longer dared wander the streets, afraid they'd run into enemy squads and die without even understanding why.
Hoshiyomi's group passed through without obstruction, easily reaching the conservative faction's territory.
Hoshiyomi had no interest in negotiating with Genji, and traveling with Sakumo and the others meant a high chance of being detected by any White Zetsu lurking in the village.
So once they reached conservative territory, Hoshiyomi broke off from the team and wandered off alone.
Sakumo, who led the group to meet Genji, wasn't bothered by this at all. He knew Hoshiyomi's overwhelming strength well. As long as Hoshiyomi didn't suddenly go insane and challenge the entire militant faction on his own, nothing in Kirigakure could possibly endanger his life.
Once he separated, Hoshiyomi activated Sage Mode. With the near-terrifying sensory range of Perfect Sage Mode, he could perceive almost half of Kirigakure at once.
Sweeping his senses across the village, he indeed detected the presence of White Zetsu in a forest near the militant faction's base. He chose not to alert it—he simply circled around and continued his exploration.
It was winter, and Kirigakure was blanketed in snow. Hoshiyomi walked silently through the snowy night, unexpectedly moved by the beauty of the scene.
The Land of Fire was warm year-round. Even when it did snow, it was never much. It had been more than a decade since Hoshiyomi had last seen such a magnificent snowfall—back when he was around ten years old, traveling to the Land of Iron.
But back then, all he thought about was sword training and solving Terrifying Death curse technique; he had no mind to appreciate the scenery.
Now, with his Sage Mode senses, he could clearly perceive the precise path of every falling snowflake. The quiet, peaceful beauty of the snowfall somehow left him momentarily dazed.
Without realizing it, he had walked a long distance through the snowy night.
Perhaps the cold weather kept everyone indoors, or perhaps Sage Mode naturally cloaked him with a layer of environmental camouflage—in any case, he hadn't encountered a single Kirigakure shinobi.
When he finally came back to his senses, dawn was already breaking, and he found himself standing on a stone bridge.
The river beneath let off thick mist, shrouding the entire bridge in fog with very limited visibility.
And within that hazy stillness… Hoshiyomi sensed a faint, flickering presence.
The weak presence wasn't hidden by skill; it was simply the breath of someone near death.
Hoshiyomi paused slightly.
It couldn't be such a coincidence, could it? Could there really be something called fate secretly guiding me?
...
At the entrance of the stone bridge, a frail child—five or six years old at most—sat curled up against the edge.
His clothes were thin, worn, and tattered. Several dried bloodstains marked his body; the dark red smears had frozen into crimson ice crystals in the bitter cold.
Weakened by blood loss, he could no longer think. Curled up like a statue, his originally beautiful eyes were now dull and unfocused.
Haku could barely remember how he survived the past two days.
He only remembered that two nights ago, his mother had woken him from sleep, held him tightly, and told him they had to flee.
Haku had asked his mother why they had to run, but before she could answer, a group of vicious-looking shinobi kicked down the door and flooded into their home.
It was only that day that Haku learned—for the first time—that his mother belonged to the Yuki clan, one of Kirigakure's bloodline clans. And it was precisely because of this that she had tried to flee with him.
The Yuki clan had been annihilated in the struggle between the militant and conservative factions. Their enemies, driven mad with bloodlust, were determined not to let a single Yuki survivor escape—including Haku.
To buy him time to flee, his mother sacrificed her life to block the attackers. But that didn't mean Haku was safe.
For the past two days, he had been relentlessly hunted. Only when he, exhausted and desperate, threw himself into the freezing river did the pursuers finally give up—assuming that no small child could survive the icy waters.
No one could have imagined that such a young boy had awakened Ice Release, an ability exceedingly rare even within the Yuki clan.
Haku drifted downstream for an entire night, and only with the last traces of his will to live did he manage to drag himself onto the stone bridge.
Although he naturally had greater resistance to cold than ordinary people, drifting through bone-chilling waters all night left him completely drained.
His depleted body could no longer move. He didn't even have the strength to take another step. Curling up tightly was the only way he could make himself feel slightly less miserable.
His vision blurred. His breathing grew labored.
Am I... really going to die?
Just as that thought crossed Haku's mind, a figure suddenly appeared before him. He could no longer see the person's face clearly, but he felt something warm being draped over his freezing body—a cloak.
Haku forced his head up and saw the stranger pull a piece of bread from his clothes and tuck it into Haku's stiff arms.
"Eat."
Feeling the warmth of the cloak on his body and the smell of fresh bread in his arms, a sudden desire to live welled up within Haku. With great effort, he lifted the bread and took a bite. Muffled, he whispered:
"…Thank you."
The dry, coarse bread was, at that moment, the most delicious thing in the world.
After nibbling two small bites, strength began to return to him. Haku raised his head, wanting to thank the stranger again—but before he could speak, a steaming water bottle was held out to him.
"Survive first. You can think about the rest later."
Haku dazedly accepted the bottle and looked up at the man before him. Perhaps the bread was beginning to restore his strength, because his once-blurred vision was becoming clearer.
The man wore a mask, hiding his face, but in Haku's eyes… it felt as though the man was shining.
Looking at the warm steam rising from the bottle, Haku's eyes misted over.
He took a big sip of the warm water, and before he knew it, tears were falling.
"…What can I do for you?"