Nobunaga let out a long sigh.
Then, an idea suddenly popped into his head.
Jiraiya.
That Pervy Sage seemed to be quite good at writing novels.
"icha icha paradise," it was said to sell very well. Jiraiya made a lot of money from that book, which allowed him to spend every day in the hot spring district peeping at the women's bathhouse.
Writing a novel.
This was indeed a potential path.
Nobunaga leaned against the headboard and began to seriously consider the possibility.
Entertainment in this world was very scarce. No TV, no internet, no cell phones. The villagers' pastimes were limited to a few things: drinking, gambling, and peeping through other people's windows.
There were books, but most were serious ones. Ninjutsu theory, tactical analysis, historical biographies. The common folk didn't care for those.
Jiraiya's success proved that popular fiction had a market. A very large market, in fact.
No one would read anything too refined. In an era of frequent wars, just staying alive was exhausting enough; who had the energy to ponder profound things?
The villagers liked things simple. Violent, exciting, slightly risqué—things they could understand without having to use their brains.
The corner of Nobunaga's mouth twitched.
He knew what to write.
Then another thought surfaced.
"Right, why can't I do both things at once?"
Earn money by writing novels, while simultaneously using the pretense of writing to get close to Jiraiya.
If he was with that Pervy Sage, would Mei Terumī still dare to strike?
Even if she did, Jiraiya wouldn't just sit idly by.
The title of Sannin wasn't just for show.
As for whether Jiraiya might actually be accidentally killed by Mei Terumī?
Nobunaga narrowed his eyes.
That could almost be considered an act of justice.
After all, Jiraiya had been peeping at women's bathhouses for so many years; it was about time he suffered a little. This was vengeance for the middle-aged women of Konoha.
Nobunaga nodded to himself.
A plan began to take shape in his mind.
Step one: write a sufficiently exciting novel. The title had to be explosive, the content had to be explosive—something that would make people want to buy it at first glance and make them unable to stop once they started.
Step two: find a reliable publishing house. There were several bookstores in Konoha; he could ask if they accepted manuscripts.
Step three: in the capacity of an author, find a way to get close to Jiraiya. Since they were both writers, wouldn't it be reasonable to exchange creative experiences?
Step four: stay by his side and use his reputation to stay alive.
Perfect.
As for the title...
Nobunaga thought for a moment.
Something too elegant definitely wouldn't work. It had to be simple, direct, and let people know exactly what genre it was at a glance.
He remembered some things he had seen online in his previous life.
Those titles were very simple yet very attractive.
small story after the rain.
That was it.
Nobunaga sat up from the bed.
His body was still a bit sore, but his spirit had recovered. He got dressed and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the sunlight was just right.
Morning in Konoha was different from Sunagakure.
Mornings in Sunagakure were always accompanied by wind and sand; opening one's eyes usually meant a mouthful of grit.
Mornings in Konoha had birds singing, the fragrance of flowers, and the smell of grilled fish drifting from next door.
But today, he was in no mood to appreciate these things.
He turned and pushed open the door.
Outside, the kicked-in door panel still lay on the ground. He stepped over it and walked into the alley.
After a few steps, he stopped.
A person was standing at the entrance of the alley.
Short greyish-purple hair, white eyes, holding a small bundle in her hands.
Hinata.
When she saw him come out, her face flushed slightly.
"Nobunaga-kun..."
Nobunaga was taken aback for a moment.
"Why are you here?"
Hinata walked over and handed him the bundle.
"I... I was worried about your injuries..." her voice was very soft, "That Mizukage yesterday... I was afraid she might... to you..."
She didn't finish.
But Nobunaga understood.
She was worried that Mei Terumī had come back last night. Worried that something had happened to him. So she had run over to check on him first thing in the morning.
"I'm fine," he said.
Hinata looked up at him.
In those white eyes, there was worry and concern. She looked him up and down, as if confirming that he really was okay.
Then her gaze fell on his hand.
That stack of paper. The first chapter of "small story after the rain" he had just finished writing.
"What is this?" Hinata asked curiously.
Nobunaga's movements stiffened for a moment.
Crap.
He instinctively tried to hide the manuscript behind his back, but it was too late. Hinata's eyes were fixed on the stack of paper, which had several large characters written on it—small story after the rain.
"This..." Hinata's eyelashes fluttered, "Did Nobunaga-kun write this?"
Nobunaga was silent for a second.
Then he quickly adjusted his expression, wearing a calm smile.
"Ah, this," he tucked the manuscript away into his shirt, "Just some casual writing, practice."
Hinata blinked.
"Practice?"
"Yeah," Nobunaga nodded, "As you know, besides fighting, a Ninja needs other skills. Writing things can train your thinking and improve your tactical analysis abilities."
He spoke very seriously and solemnly.
Hinata listened and nodded, appearing to half-understand.
"So that's how it is..."
Then her eyes fell back to where he had tucked the manuscript.
"That..." her voice became even smaller, "small story after the rain... what is it about?"
Nobunaga's expression froze for an instant.
What was it about?
It was about two youths meeting after the rain, and then—
He couldn't tell her. He absolutely could not tell her.
"Well," he gave a light cough, "it's just some small stories about rainy days. Very ordinary. Nothing special."
Hinata looked at him.
There was a hint of confusion in those white eyes.
But she didn't press him.
She simply nodded.
"Mm."
Then she handed over the small bundle in her hand.
"This... I made some rice balls this morning... and there's a little medicine for your eyes..."
Nobunaga looked down at the bundle.
The cloth was old but washed very clean, with the edges neatly sewn. Opening it revealed several rice balls and a small bottle of ointment.
The same ointment as yesterday. From the Hyuga Clan, specifically for eyes.
"You..."
"I was afraid Nobunaga-kun's eyes hadn't healed yet..." Hinata kept her head down, "So I brought a little more..."
Nobunaga stood there.
Looking at her. Looking at her lowered eyelashes, her slightly flushed cheeks, and the small hand holding out the bundle.
He suddenly didn't know what to say.
"Thank you," he finally said.
Hinata looked up, her eyes brightening.
"N-no need for thanks..."
She took a step back.
"Then I'll be going... Nobunaga-kun should rest well..."
She turned and walked deeper into the alley.
After a few steps, she stopped.
Without turning around.
"Nobunaga-kun."
"Hmm?"
"That story... when you finish writing it, can you let me read it?"
Nobunaga's expression froze again.
"This..."
Hinata's voice was very soft: "I... I want to read what Nobunaga-kun writes..."
She continued walking forward.
The sound of her footsteps gradually faded.
Nobunaga stood in place, looking in that direction.
For a long time.
Then he looked down at the bundle in his hands.
The rice balls were still warm. The ointment was cool.
He suddenly felt that his reason about "practice" just now was a bit of a guilty lie.