The second day of the book signing turned out to be no easier than the first.
So much for Shiranui Genma's prediction.
"There definitely won't be this many people tomorrow."
Liar.
The second day ended with another endless line.
The third day was no different.
Nor the fourth.
It wasn't until the fifth day that the number of readers finally began to decrease.
By the time the very last person bowed gratefully, hugged their newly signed book to their chest, and walked out of the hall with a smile, I thought the ordeal was finally over.
I was already imagining myself collapsing onto the inn's bed and remaining unconscious until tomorrow.
Then my editor smiled.
That smile alone was enough to make me uneasy.
She handed me another schedule.
"What's this?"
"Your afternoon itinerary."
I unfolded it.
Interview session.
Followed immediately by...
Fan photo session.
I slowly raised my head.
Then looked at my editor.
She calmly returned my gaze, her professional smile remaining perfectly intact.
"...Didn't you tell me everything would be finished after the signing?"
"Oh?"
She blinked innocently.
"This is still part of the signing event."
She flipped the schedule over.
Then pointed directly at a section filled with impossibly tiny print.
"The interview was already included in the original contract."
She tapped another paragraph.
"And the photo session was added later by the Sunagakure publisher."
Then came the finishing blow.
"Teacher Bluebird..."
Her smile became even gentler.
"You wouldn't want to disappoint your readers..."
"...would you?"
She used that move again.
I silently stared at the schedule for several seconds.
Then slowly turned toward Genma, who was drinking water nearby.
"Mr. Shiranui."
"Hm?"
"Do ninja happen to know any ninjutsu that can temporarily erase someone's memory?"
He didn't even bother lifting his head.
"Even if I did..."
"...I wouldn't use it on you."
Cruel.
The interview took place inside a meeting hall beside the signing venue.
I had expected ordinary questions.
Perhaps something simple.
Instead...
The readers of Sunagakure turned out to be frighteningly serious.
The host held an enormous stack of question cards.
Each one had been submitted by a reader.
The first question made me smile.
"The meaning behind the name of Shun Ashford?"
The second one nearly made me choke.
"Will the protagonist of your next novel be a Sunagakure shinobi?"
The third...
Fourth...
Fifth...
Each became progressively more difficult.
Especially the very first one.
Considering that two Konoha jonin who personally knew Kakashi Hatake were sitting nearby...
I absolutely could not reveal the real inspiration behind certain names.
So...
I smiled.
Made up a believable explanation on the spot.
And somehow survived.
By the time the interview finally ended...
My throat felt like sandpaper.
Yet not a single audience member had left early.
Every seat remained occupied.
Every eye stayed focused.
The attention they gave me felt almost overwhelming.
Then came the photo session.
If the interview exhausted my voice...
The photo session exhausted everything else.
Readers lined up one after another.
My editor stood beside me, carefully maintaining order.
Ayame guarded one side of the stage.
Matsuri stood on the other.
Every few seconds...
Someone stepped forward.
Every few seconds...
I smiled.
Every few seconds...
"Thank you."
Another photograph.
Another handshake.
Another smile.
Another thank you.
By the time everything finally ended...
I honestly couldn't remember how many times I had repeated those two words.
All I remembered...
Was how happy everyone looked.
Every single smile made the exhaustion seem worthwhile.
Back at the lounge...
The moment the door closed...
I removed my mask.
Tilted my head backward.
Collapsed against the chair.
And immediately fell asleep.
At some point...
The door quietly opened.
Matsuri entered carrying a glass of water.
She stopped.
For just a brief moment.
Her eyes rested on my face.
Without the mask...
I looked far younger than most people expected.
The legendary Teacher Bluebird turned out to be an ordinary young woman barely out of adolescence.
Matsuri silently placed the glass on the table.
Without making the slightest sound...
She quietly left.
Over the past few days...
Genma had become strangely quiet.
When we traveled together, he seemed incapable of remaining silent for longer than ten minutes.
Now...
He spent most of his time leaning against walls or pillars.
Watching.
Occasionally...
His gaze drifted toward me through the crowd.
Then quietly moved away again.
One night...
I woke because I was thirsty.
The inn was completely silent.
I carried my cup toward the end of the hallway to fetch some water.
As I passed Genma's room...
I noticed the light was still on.
The door wasn't fully closed.
Curiosity made me glance through the narrow opening.
Inside...
Genma leaned comfortably against the headboard.
An open book rested in his hands.
Its colorful cover reflected the warm light of a kerosene lamp.
That cover...
Looked painfully familiar.
It was the first volume of...
Konoha Affairs: The Cold-Faced Ninja's Runaway Sweetheart.
I froze.
...
...
My toes immediately curled inside my sandals.
Back when I chose that ridiculous title...
I'd done it purely because outrageous names attracted readers.
It had worked.
Far too well.
Now...
Watching someone I actually knew reading it...
I wanted to disappear into the floor.
Without making a sound...
I quietly turned around.
Then returned to my room carrying my water.
The following morning...
As we walked toward the venue...
Genma suddenly spoke.
"Writer Miss."
"Hm?"
"Your book..."
He casually shifted the senbon between his teeth.
"...is actually really good."
I pretended I hadn't seen anything the previous night.
"You read it?"
"I was bored."
His ears...
Very slightly...
Turned red.
"The title is a little overdramatic."
He scratched his cheek.
"But..."
He looked ahead.
"'Shinobi do not fear death. They've simply found something more important than life.'"
His voice slowed.
"I really liked that line."
I fell silent.
Somehow...
I had never imagined Genma belonged to the audience that appreciated those kinds of stories.
After several moments...
I turned toward him.
"Did you cry?"
Genma nearly dropped the senbon.
"W-What?!"
"No!"
"Impossible!"
Ahead of us...
Raidō continued walking.
Hearing the conversation...
He glanced sideways.
Said nothing.
Then looked forward again.
That tiny glance was immediately noticed.
Genma pointed his senbon dramatically toward Raidō.
"Raidō."
"You smiled."
"No."
His answer remained perfectly flat.
"You definitely smiled."
"..."
Silence.
Which, somehow...
Felt exactly like an admission.
For the first time since arriving in Sunagakure...
I finally had half a day off.
My editor, perhaps fearing I might actually collapse if pushed further, mercifully arranged no additional work.
Naturally...
The first thing I did was drag both of my bodyguards onto the commercial streets.
Time to buy souvenirs.
Sunagakure's marketplace felt completely different from Konoha's.
Large pottery jars filled with spices lined the streets.
Dried fruits.
Herbs.
Exotic seasonings.
Handmade sandstone carvings.
Woven carpets dyed in deep ochre, bronze, and desert gold.
Everything reflected the warm colors of the Land of Wind.
I crouched before one stall, carefully comparing dried honey dates.
Then sea buckthorn berries.
As I examined each handful...
I was already planning how they'd be distributed after returning home.
Honey dates...
For Naruto.
He loved sweet things.
Sea buckthorn berries...
For Aunt Yoshino.
Good for making tea.
Something simple...
For Shikamaru.
Perhaps one of those sandstone ornaments.
As for Uncle Shikaku...
Last time I'd enjoyed tea at his house.
Maybe I should buy local tea.
...
Did Sunagakure even grow tea?
...
Whatever.
I'd figure it out.
Genma watched me compare honey dates one by one.
Eventually...
He couldn't hold back anymore.
"You really take gift shopping seriously."
"I've been gone nearly a month."
I continued inspecting dried fruit.
"It wouldn't feel right returning empty-handed."
He pointed lazily toward another basket.
"Wouldn't the larger ones over there work?"
"They're too dark."
I shook my head.
"They've been dried too long."
"They'll taste bitter."
Genma blinked.
"...Do you really need to analyze honey dates this carefully?"
"There'll be a child waiting at home."
I smiled.
"He doesn't like bitter things."
Genma quietly looked at me.
For once...
He said nothing.
Across the street...
Raidō leaned against a sandstone wall.
His calm eyes continuously observed the surrounding crowd.
Every time I changed shops...
He quietly adjusted his own position.
Always maintaining the same careful distance.
Never too close.
Never too far.
Professional until the very end.
After buying dried fruit...
I entered a nearby handicraft shop.
Rows of sandstone carvings lined wooden shelves.
Scorpions.
Camels.
Foxes.
Cats.
I crouched before two small ornaments, comparing the carving quality.
One depicted a scorpion.
The other...
A tiny sand dune cat.
Just then...
Something cool brushed against my ankle.
I looked down.
A small stream of sand had somehow gathered beside my foot.
It rose into a tiny mound.
Then slowly retreated.
Almost...
As if it were alive.
I followed its movement.
Standing quietly at the street corner...
Was a small boy.
Red hair.
Dark circles beneath pale green eyes.
And...
The crimson character for "Love" carved into his forehead.
His expression remained completely empty.
The wandering sand quietly slipped back toward him...
Almost like a guilty child returning after being caught wandering too far.
Gaara.
Of course.
Raidō noticed him immediately.
His hand silently rested upon his ninja pouch.
Genma also straightened.
The casual atmosphere disappeared.
"Raidō..."
His voice lowered.
"That's..."
"Jinchūriki."
Raidō answered softly.
The shopkeeper poked his head out from behind the shelf.
The moment he recognized Gaara...
His face changed.
He immediately disappeared again.
I looked toward Gaara.
He looked toward me.
Then...
I lowered my gaze.
The two sandstone carvings still rested in my hands.
The scorpion.
The sand dune cat.
Without hesitation...
I placed the scorpion back.
Then held the tiny sand dune cat toward him.
"Do you like cats?"
I smiled gently.
"This one's for you."
Gaara didn't move.
He stared at my outstretched hand.
Several seconds passed.
Finally...
He stepped forward.
The sand beneath his feet automatically spread apart, forming a smooth path.
He stopped directly before me.
He didn't take the ornament.
Instead...
He looked into my eyes.
His voice sounded rough.
Almost unused.
"You..."
"...aren't afraid of me."
It wasn't a question.
Only a statement.
"I don't think you're scary."
I answered honestly.
Truthfully...
If Kakashi suddenly appeared here...
I'd probably be much more frightened.
For the first time...
The sand surrounding Gaara shifted noticeably.
Behind me...
Genma unconsciously stepped forward.
Raidō quietly raised one hand.
A tiny gesture.
Genma stopped immediately.
Gaara remained silent.
Then...
Slowly...
He reached out.
Accepted the little sand dune cat.
He lowered his head.
Looked at it quietly.
Then raised his eyes toward me once more.
No thank you.
No smile.
He simply repeated those same words.
Softer this time.
Almost...
As if speaking only to himself.
"...You aren't afraid of me."
Then he turned away.
The flowing sand gathered beneath his feet once again.
Following him...
Protecting him...
Until both child and sand disappeared around the corner.
The shopkeeper cautiously peeked out again.
He stared at me.
Then toward the street.
Then back again.
His expression clearly suggested he had concluded I wasn't entirely sane.
Genma slowly walked beside me.
He looked toward the direction where Gaara had disappeared.
Then toward me.
Several quiet moments passed.
Finally...
He spoke.
"You..."
"...always seem to attract people like that."
"What do you mean..."
"'People like that?'"
Genma thought seriously.
Then answered.
"People..."
"...who usually don't know how to be around others."
I smiled faintly.
"Maybe..."
"It's because I don't really know how to socialize either."
Genma glanced sideways at me.
This time...
He didn't ask another question.
Raidō quietly fell into step behind us.
I brushed the remaining sand from my clothes.
Picked up another souvenir.
And continued shopping...
As though nothing unusual had happened.
Neither of the two jonin realized...
That somewhere beyond the market, a lonely red-haired child was still quietly clutching a tiny sandstone cat—the very first gift anyone had ever freely offered him.