The moment the cup hit the table, Tsunade planted both hands on the edge and closed her eyes.
A thin layer of sweat had appeared on her forehead.
She concentrated with everything she had.
Sharp.
Scattered.
Definitely low!
“Low!
This time it’s absolutely low!
There’s no way I’m wrong!”
She sounded completely certain.
Mirai lazily cleaned one ear with his little finger.
“Then I’ll take high.”
Kushina swallowed and carefully lifted the cup.
Four, four, five.
Thirteen.
High.
The courtyard fell silent.
Nawaki’s mouth dropped open.
Orochimaru raised an eyebrow.
Mito burst into laughter beneath the veranda.
Tsunade sat frozen in her chair.
Her lips moved twice, and it looked as though her soul had left her body.
She lost.
Three rounds.
Three wrong guesses.
“Tsunade?” Kushina cautiously poked her shoulder.
“Um…
you lost.”
“I—”
Tsunade slammed both hands onto the table and shot to her feet.
Her blond hair was disheveled and her eyes were wide.
“How could I possibly guess wrong three times in a row?!
Impossible!
Did this brat cheat somehow?”
“The dice belong to your family.
Kushina handled the cup.
I never even touched the edge of the table.”
Mirai spread his hands, wearing the purest smile imaginable.
“Tsunade, a bet is a bet.”
Tsunade pointed at him with a trembling finger.
“Did you secretly use some kind of dojutsu?
Telepathy?
Precognition?
Tell me the truth!”
“I’m an Uzumaki.
Where would I get a dojutsu?”
Mirai tilted his head.
“And don’t tell me you seriously believe all that ‘identify the dice by sound’ nonsense casinos advertise.
The instant dice hit the table, their angle, force, elasticity of the surface—even humidity can affect how they land.”
“Guessing the result by listening?
That’s the sort of story casinos tell suckers.”
Tsunade’s face shifted from green to red to pale.
Finally, she collapsed back into the chair and muttered,
“I don’t believe it…
I don’t believe it…”
“Sis!
You lost to a seven-year-old!
Hahahahaha!”
Nawaki rolled around on the ground laughing.
“Nawaki, laugh one more time and I’ll beat you to death!”
“Orochimaru-sensei, save me!”
Orochimaru calmly remained where he was, his thoughtful gaze passing over Mirai.
Regardless of the method…
A seven-year-old who could handle himself like this was interesting.
The curve of Orochimaru’s smile deepened slightly.
“One whole month, Tsunade!” Mirai raised one finger and grinned obnoxiously.
“Whenever I call, you come.
Massages.
Starting tonight—I think I’ll book the shoulder-and-neck package first.”
Tsunade dropped face-first onto the table.
“…I know, I know!
You’re annoying!”
Kushina happily bounced over to Mito.
“Grandma Mito!
Mirai won!
Tsunade lost!”
Mito smiled and stroked her hair, her warm gaze sweeping over the chaos in the courtyard.
Tsunade was chasing Nawaki around, Nawaki was circling Orochimaru for protection, and Mirai was cheerfully making things worse from the sidelines.
“Tsunade, that won’t hurt him!
Put some strength into it!
Where’s your Heavenly Foot of Pain?”
“Mirai!
I thought we were brothers!” Nawaki screamed.
“It really is getting livelier and livelier.”
Steam from Mito’s tea drifted gently before her eyes.
“Hashirama…
can you see this?”
The evening breeze moved through the courtyard, carrying the laughter and arguing of young people with it.
On this autumn evening, the Senju compound seemed to come alive once more.
…
After the gambling farce ended, Mirai deliberately walked over to Orochimaru.
He looked up at the man who would one day become one of the Legendary Sannin, a rogue ninja, a mad scientist, and an immortal snake freak.
Right now, however, Orochimaru was merely a handsome young jonin with long flowing hair and an almost scholarly air about him.
He even seemed gentle.
“Orochimaru-senpai, hello.”
Mirai greeted him properly this time, his tone unusually respectful.
“I didn’t get the chance to greet you earlier when Nawaki called out to you, so I wanted to make up for it.”
Orochimaru lowered his head slightly.
His narrow, snake-like eyes met Mirai’s for several seconds.
“You know me?”
“I’ve heard of you,” Mirai replied without hesitation.
“Tsunade has mentioned you a few times.
She said you’re one of the strongest among her peers.”
Orochimaru fell silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted.
His smile was gentle in a way it would rarely be in the future.
“Mirai Uzumaki…”
He slowly repeated the name.
“Interesting.”
Orochimaru extended a hand and lightly patted Mirai’s head, the touch almost delicate, as if testing the surface of something fragile.
“If you have time, you can come talk to me about ninjutsu.
Those Adamantine Sealing Chains…
are a very interesting bloodline ability.”
With that, he withdrew his hand and turned toward Nawaki.
“We’re leaving.
Your training for today isn’t finished.”
“Aww!
Orochimaru-sensei, let me play a little longer!”
“Quiet.
Follow me.”
The two gradually disappeared beyond the gates of the Senju compound.
Mirai remained where he was and rubbed the top of his head where Orochimaru had touched him.
For some reason, he could almost still feel a trace of coldness there.
“Orochimaru…” he murmured.
“At this point in history, he’s still a good teacher.”
Unfortunately, in canon, witnessing Nawaki’s horrific death on the battlefield pushed Orochimaru deeper into his obsession with mortality.
From there, he began researching immortality, eventually collaborating with Danzo and becoming the Fallen Snake everyone knew.
Kushina wandered over curiously.
“What are you muttering about?”
“Nothing.
I was just thinking we had a pretty incredible guest at home today.”
“Orochimaru-senpai?” Kushina tilted her head.
“He seems pretty gentle.”
Mirai didn’t answer.
The gentleness was real.
But so was his hunger for forbidden knowledge.
‘I should find a chance to build a good relationship with Snake Uncle.’
‘If he ever defects from Konoha, maybe I can borrow some of that technology tree.’
And then there was Nawaki.
A descendant of the Senju Clan, killed on the battlefield by explosive tags and left with his organs blown out.
It was absurd.
This time, Mirai had no intention of letting that scene happen again.
He needed to grow stronger faster.
“Mirai!
What do you want for dinner?
I’ll help Grandma cook!” Kushina tugged on his sleeve.
“Anything.
Whatever you make is fine.”
“Really?
Then I’ll make tomato fried rice!
I’ll show you the power of the Fried Rice Sage!”
“…Anything except that.
Please.”
“Why?!
You just said anything!”
“Tomatoes?
I’m already being called a tomato at school.
Now you want me to eat them too?”
Their bickering echoed through the Senju compound.
The nostalgia in Mito’s eyes grew deeper.
“Hashirama…
wait just a little longer for me.”
“Once I’ve passed the responsibility on my shoulders to the next generation, I’ll come find you.”
She was the current Nine-Tails jinchuriki.
Only after safely transferring the Nine-Tails to a successor could she close her eyes without worry.
Watching the lively Mirai and Kushina, Mito felt that day was no longer far away.
Hashirama might have been a complete fool.
But life without him really was terribly boring.