Something was wrong.
Nine times out of ten, something was definitely wrong.
The book signing in Sunagakure was finally nearing its end, but during the past two days, I had constantly felt as though something was watching me.
It wasn't the ordinary kind of attention that came from readers recognizing Teacher Bluebird. That kind of gaze was excited, curious, and warm.
This was different.
Quiet.
Patient.
Almost silent enough to be mistaken for imagination.
At night, when I slept, I had to tuck both my hands and feet completely inside the blanket. Every time I turned over, I instinctively wrapped the quilt tighter around myself, as if some invisible eye might be peering in through the darkness.
I mentioned it to Shiranui Genma once.
He chewed on his senbon and carefully checked the surroundings, but found nothing unusual.
Raidō Namiashi was even more thorough.
Each time I returned to the inn, he inspected the doors, windows, corridor, and even the shadowed corners near my room.
Still nothing.
No footprints.
No hostile chakra.
No suspicious movement.
Nothing.
That somehow made it even more unsettling.
We would leave for Konoha first thing tomorrow morning.
I had already calculated the time several times. If we shortened the return trip and avoided unnecessary delays, I should make it back in time for Naruto's entrance ceremony.
That thought alone made the exhaustion easier to endure.
On my last night in Sunagakure, I stood by the inn window and looked out at the sky.
The desert night was deeper than Konoha's.
Stars covered the ink-blue sky like crushed salt scattered across velvet. There were no clouds to hide them, so every point of light shone with sharp, dazzling clarity.
Then something moved outside the window.
Very slightly.
I focused my gaze.
A small stream of sand was flowing beneath the moonlight.
One grain after another gathered together, stacking and shaping itself with unnatural precision. Soon, it formed something unmistakable.
An eye.
The pupil.
The iris.
Even the curve of the lower eyelid.
All of it was carefully shaped from sand.
That sand-made eye quietly gazed toward my window.
Ah.
So that was it.
The source of the feeling of being watched had finally revealed itself.
I stared at the eye for a few seconds.
Then I turned around, opened my door, and walked down to the entrance of the inn.
The desert night wind was cold.
Sand trembled faintly across the ground.
I looked toward the darkness outside.
"Do you want to come in and sit for a while?"
For a moment, there was no answer.
Then the sand eye dissolved, collapsing back into ordinary grains.
A small figure stepped out from the shadows near the corner.
Gaara stood where the moonlight couldn't reach him.
His red hair was ruffled softly by the night wind. His pale green eyes held no threat, only confusion so deep it almost looked hollow.
"...You aren't afraid of me."
The same words as last time.
The same flat, declarative tone.
I couldn't help finding it a little funny.
"Are you a tape recorder?"
His eyes shifted slightly.
"I already told you last time. You aren't scary."
Gaara remained silent.
Then he took half a step forward.
His foot landed exactly on the line between moonlight and shadow.
He didn't come closer.
"Why?"
The question was vague, but I understood what he wanted to ask.
Why wasn't I afraid?
Why had I given him the sandstone cat?
Why was I inviting him inside now?
I thought for a moment.
"Maybe because..."
I looked down at the sand near his feet.
"You're trying very hard to control it."
His eyes lowered slightly.
"Last time in the alley, you were also trying hard not to hurt anyone."
I smiled gently.
"A child who is trying hard not to hurt others isn't scary."
Gaara looked at the sand beside his feet.
The grains lay quietly against the ground.
After a long silence, he spoke.
"...You are the first person to say that."
He paused.
The sand rippled faintly.
"Except Yashamaru."
I knew that name.
But I didn't know whether Yashamaru's assassination attempt had happened yet in this timeline, so I didn't respond carelessly.
Some wounds should not be touched unless you knew exactly how deep they were.
After a while, Gaara asked, "...What is a tape recorder?"
I froze.
Then I actually laughed.
"A tape recorder..."
I leaned against the doorframe and seriously considered how to explain an object from another world to a six-year-old child.
"It's a kind of machine that repeats what people say. For example, if you say hello, it will repeat hello, hello, hello over and over again."
I thought about it.
"Like a little parrot learning to talk."
Gaara's brow furrowed slightly.
He seemed to be seriously digesting every word.
"...I am not a machine."
"I know."
I waved my hand.
"I was joking. Of course you aren't a machine. I just said it casually, don't worry about it."
He was silent for another moment.
Then asked, "...What is a parrot?"
Wonderful.
Now I had created another problem.
I took a deep breath, crouched down, and drew a simple bird in the sand with one finger.
"A parrot is a bird with bright feathers. Some parrots can learn to repeat human speech. That's all I meant. It was a metaphor."
I pointed at the crude bird drawing.
"It doesn't mean you're actually a machine."
Then I pointed at him.
"And it doesn't mean you're actually a bird."
Gaara looked down at the drawing.
Then looked back at me.
The confusion in his pale green eyes faded slightly.
"...So you weren't scolding me."
"No."
I smoothed away the bird drawing with my palm.
"I was teasing you."
He watched the sand become flat again.
Several seconds passed.
"...Then why tease me?"
Was this conversation never going to end?
I crouched there, looking at his solemn little face.
His questions came one after another, but he wasn't being difficult. He truly didn't understand and wanted to know.
That made it impossible to be impatient with him.
"Because your reaction is cute."
I drew a simple smiley face in the sand.
Gaara stared at it.
"Cu...te?"
Then, after a pause, he looked up.
"Me?"
"Yes."
Before he could continue asking, I stood up and patted sand from my knees.
"Alright, the question session ends here."
If we kept going, I wouldn't get any sleep tonight.
"I'll be leaving Sunagakure first thing tomorrow morning."
Gaara raised his eyes.
His lips moved slightly, but before he could answer, I continued.
"I live in Konoha. If you ever visit in the future, I can treat you to a meal."
I smiled.
"I don't go out much, but if you come, I'll come out."
I was truly too sleepy.
And tomorrow's return journey would begin early.
So I had no choice but to say goodbye first.
"It was nice meeting you, Gaara."
The night wind passed between us.
"Goodbye."
For a few seconds, Gaara stood silently in the boundary between light and shadow.
Then he turned away.
A very soft voice drifted back through the wind.
"...Goodbye."
The next morning, the gates of Sunagakure were still wrapped in pale morning mist.
I stood at the village entrance with luggage more than twice as bulky as when I had arrived.
Shiranui Genma yawned beside me, looking as if he hadn't slept enough.
Raidō Namiashi had already finished checking the return route and was waiting nearby with his usual quiet steadiness.
My editor came to see me off.
She helped tighten the straps of my backpack, then stuffed a bag of Sunagakure-style dried fruit into the side pocket.
"Take care on the road."
She stepped back and looked me over carefully, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything and had not somehow gained any new injuries.
Then she revealed the standard smile she only used when urging me to write.
"Teacher Bluebird."
My heart sank.
"It's about time to start planning your next book."
"...I just finished the signing."
"This trip to Sunagakure had exotic customs, desert adventures, and two elite jonin personally escorting you."
Her smile was flawless.
"These are all materials. Pure materials."
"Inspiration waits for no one."
My lovely editor.
She always made me love and hate her at the same time.
At some point, a small crowd had gathered near the village entrance.
They were readers who had attended the signing.
Among them stood Ayame at the very front, clutching her worn copy of the third volume so tightly the cover looked ready to fall apart.
When our eyes met, she immediately waved.
"Teacher Bluebird!"
Her voice carried through the morning wind.
"Next time you come to Sunagakure for a signing, I'll apply to protect you again!"
She hugged the book tighter against her chest.
"That's a promise!"
I raised my hand and waved back.
"It's a promise."
Then my gaze moved past the crowd.
Farther away, atop a quiet sand dune, stood a small figure.
Red hair fluttered slightly in the wind.
He was too far away for me to see his expression clearly.
Then I felt something brush against my right wrist.
A tiny stream of sand had followed the wind and gently wrapped around my skin.
It was light.
Careful.
As if afraid of hurting me.
It stayed for only a moment before slowly loosening and drifting away.
I looked down at the few grains of fine sand left on my wrist.
Then I raised my arm and waved hard toward the distant dune.
"Goodbye," I said softly.
The red-haired figure did not move for a long while.
But the sand around him rose gently in the wind.
Like a quiet farewell.
And as I turned toward the road back to Konoha, I suddenly realized that Sunagakure had given me more than exhaustion, readers, and souvenirs. It had given me another lonely child who might one day remember that someone had looked at him without fear.