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Because that person's face was too clear.
So clear that it didn't feel like a dream.
Mei Terumī threw off the covers, walked to the desk, and spread out a piece of paper.
She picked up a pen and began to draw.
The tip of the pen touched the paper, making a rustling sound.
She drew very slowly, every stroke careful: the curve of the brow bone, the height of the bridge of the nose, the shape of the eyes, the line of the lips.
That face was too vivid in her mind, as clear as if it were carved into her bones.
Finishing the last stroke, she put down the pen and looked at the drawing.
Ordinary features.
An ordinary build.
Only those eyes, she couldn't draw.
That depth, that stillness, that quality like two bottomless wells—she couldn't capture it.
She stared at the drawing for a long time.
Then she picked up the bell on the table and gave it a shake.
Qing appeared at the door shortly after.
"Mizukage-sama?"
Mei Terumī pushed the drawing over.
"Investigate this person. See if he is in the Hidden Mist Village."
Qing took the drawing and glanced down at it.
His brows furrowed slightly, and he stared at the drawing for several seconds before looking up and shaking his head.
"No need to investigate, there is no such person in the Hidden Mist Village. I have seen the files of every registered Ninja in the Hidden Mist Village. I have never seen this face."
Mei Terumī was silent for a moment.
"Then what about Konoha?"
Qing was stunned for a moment.
"Konoha?"
"Have people on the Konoha side investigate."
Mei Terumī's voice was flat:
"Whether there is a person named Shinji."
Qing opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but upon seeing the Mizukage's expression, he swallowed his words.
He lowered his head, replied "Yes," and backed out with the drawing.
The door closed.
Mei Terumī sat there, watching the door, motionless for a long time.
Outside the window, the gray sky of the Hidden Mist Village was the same as that day.
Three days later.
When Qing knocked and entered, he was holding a scroll and a stack of papers.
"Mizukage-sama, there is news from Konoha."
Mei Terumī looked up.
Qing placed the scroll on the table and then spread out the stack of papers.
On top was a photograph.
It was a Ninja registration photo with a white wall in the background; the person was wearing the standard Konoha flak jacket, with a forehead protector tied around his forehead.
Mei Terumī looked down at the photo.
Then her pupils contracted slightly.
That face.
Ordinary features.
An ordinary build.
Only those eyes—you couldn't tell from the photo, but she knew.
She knew how deep, how still those eyes were.
In an instant.
Sorrow, joy, love, hate—all sorts of feelings mixed in her heart.
In the end, these emotions merged into a thick, intense killing intent!
"Konoha does indeed have someone named Shinji."
Qing said from the side, his voice flat, as if reading a report:
"Genin. Twelve years old. He is a notorious dead-last in Konoha.
He graduated a year ago, but his aptitude is too poor.
He has never been assigned to an official team.
It is said that because his strength is so poor, he is almost like an ordinary person without Chakra, so no one wants to team up with him.
But he has signed up for the Chunin Exams jointly hosted by Konoha and Sunagakure this time, and he has been training for the past few days.
Our people said that they went to the training ground and secretly observed his training—he is not as incompetent as the rumors say."
Mei Terumī did not speak.
She just looked down at the face in the photo.
The person who stood in front of her in the ruins.
The person who stood at her door for five years, asking only "How have you been lately" each time.
The person who descended from the sky at Kannabi Bridge, splitting the curtain of rain to land in front of her.
The person who looked at her at the wedding and said, "Don't drink too much."
The person who looked down at her when she was kneeling on the ground, clutching the corner of his clothes.
The person she saw with her last glance before she fell.
Her fingers pressed against the photo.
Her knuckles turned slightly white.
"Mizukage-sama?" Qing asked tentatively.
Mei Terumī looked up.
There was nothing in her eyes.
Only something very deep, very heavy, like a frozen lake surface.
"The Chunin Exams jointly hosted by Konoha and Sunagakure."
She said, her voice flat, "Has the Hidden Mist received an invitation?"
Qing was stunned for a moment.
"We did. But you said before that you wouldn't go."
"Change it."
Mei Terumī interrupted him.
"I am going."
Qing looked at her, opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But in the end, he swallowed his words again.
"Yes, I will make the arrangements."
He turned to leave.
"Wait."
Qing stopped.
Mei Terumī stood up and walked to the window.
The gray mist from outside the window surged in, landing on her, shrouding her entire figure in a layer of faint gray-white.
"In what capacity?" she asked.
Qing thought for a moment.
"An alliance meeting.
The Hidden Mist Village has just ended its internal strife and needs to display the new Mizukage's stance to the outside world.
Moreover, the joint Chunin Exams between Konoha and Sunagakure is the best occasion.
We can discuss cooperation, trade, and alliances."
"Then cooperation and trade it is."
Mei Terumī did not turn back.
She stood there, back to him, watching the gray sky outside the window.
"Tell Konoha.
The Fifth Mizukage wants to see their Chunin Exams with her own eyes."
Qing bowed: "Yes."
He backed out.
The door closed.
The room became quiet.
Mei Terumī was still standing there, at the window, in that gray mist.
In the end, the silence turned into a self-deprecating laugh: "I will always protect you? As long as you call, I will be there? Heh."
She reached out and pressed her hand against the glass.
The mist surged outside the glass, and nothing could be seen.
But she knew that person was there.
In Konoha.
In that place where the sun was bright and the sky was impossibly blue.
She recalled the final scene in her dream.
Before she fell, he finally lowered his head to look at her.
That face wavered in her increasingly blurred vision; she couldn't see his expression clearly.
Now she was going to see with her own eyes what expression was on that face.
And then bring him back to the Hidden Mist Village.
To cut out his heart, one slash at a time!
Mei Terumī pulled her hand back from the glass and turned around.
The photo on the table was still there.
Sunlight shone through from behind the mist, landing on the photo, making that face appear somewhat blurred.
She walked over and picked up the photo.
She stared at it for a long time.
Afterward, she tucked the photo into her bosom, right against her heart.
It was beating steadily there.
Thump, thump, thump.
Just like fifteen years ago.
Just like in her dream.
She had thought she would cry.
But her eyes were dry.
It turns out that when a person truly wants to cry, there are no tears.
Tears are reserved for those moments that "can still be saved."
And theirs were already gone!
...
One week later.
Konoha, early morning.
There was no one on the training ground yet.
Shinji stood in the center, the packed yellow earth beneath his feet, and the morning dew from last night still hanging on the wooden stakes around him.
The sun had just emerged from the mountain in the east, and the light shone diagonally across, stretching his shadow out long.
He closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
Then he began to run.
It wasn't ordinary running.
It was the kind of running where every step had to land in a specific spot, where every breath had to be coordinated with the pace.
In the simulation, he had done this warm-up routine countless times.
But that was the memory of another body.
Now, for this body, it was the first time.
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