"Yesterday, I had a dream."
"In my dream, an ordinary life continued as usual, just as I had envisioned. Training, eating, talking with Hathaway. My son, granddaughter, and disciples all lived their own lives... There was nothing wrong with that, was there?"
"In my dream, I went back to my childhood. From the ti I lay in the crib, I was drawn to a painting hanging on the wall at ho, though I was too young to understand much. Later, as I grew older, I happened to co across a book titled The Uchiha's Sinners at a bookstore after school. At that mont, I truly believed that the author of that book and the artist of the painting in my ho were one and the sa."
"Hathaway, much like Fanfan back then, is slowly growing old."
"When I was twenty, during an outing, I encountered the owner of the eyes I had been observing for twenty years—on the very island that would later beco my new ho... He was a lonely, solitary man. That was what I thought at the ti."
"I still often recall... the mont Fanfan covered her face and wept, begging to leave her. Back then, I couldn't understand—appearance, age, youth, aging... did those things truly matter? Later, I eventually left. I am certain that Fanfan was no happier after my departure, just as I am certain that even if I had stayed, she would not have been happy either."
"Perhaps even he himself never realized just how cold his heart was... so cold it felt as if it would freeze over. I heard him speak of his ti training under Mutaito, his countless incredible experiences, and the stories of him and his forr wife."
"eting Hathaway... I suppose, was quite a fortunate thing. Maybe there really is so kind of fate between people. Her eyes are strange—though they hold no special power, they seem to see straight into my heart. What a foolish girl she must be to choose soone like ."
"But the stories he never spoke of... I could sense them, faintly, in the books he wrote and the paintings he created. The tragedy of Itachi and Sasuke Uchiha—was it perhaps a reflection of sothing buried deep within him?"
"I admit, I never gave Fanfan the happiness she deserved... If, back then, I had tried harder, acted more decisively, and searched for the Dragon Balls, would there have been even the slightest chance that she could have remained young as well? If she had, perhaps she would have been happy."
"To be honest, when he returned from the Grand Kai's realm, the mont I saw that he had aged to match , I felt complicated emotions... You fool. Is this how you plan to grow old with ? I had already prepared myself from the beginning, knowing that I could only accompany Taro for a fraction of his long life... But even so, when the mont finally ca, I couldn't help feeling a little sorrow and regret."
"Hathaway is a good woman, a good wife. If it were now, perhaps... I could have made our marriage happier. The happiness people speak of between husband and wife, growing old together—maybe this is what it truly looks like."
"Watching this idiot grow old so suddenly, so irrationally, I can't help but worry for his intelligence... Heh. And yet, I also can't help but feel sorry for him. At the sa ti, I find myself resenting that woman, Fanfan. If not for the way she once hurt him, would Taro have done sothing so foolish?"
"As expected, year by year, she grew older. And this ti, so did I."
"Even if I could never be your whole world, at the very least, I could make you mine. I only wanted to watch you at your most radiant, walking slowly toward the end of life with ... That alone was already enough to satisfy ."
"Her appearance changed with ti, but Hathaway, you know... I told you long ago, for a true martial artist, relying on one's eyes to perceive the world is the lowest form of awareness. Your ki, even after all these years, remains as pure as ever. To my eyes, your soul is just as it was back then—unchanged."
"I truly am growing old, day by day... Sotis, it seems like Taro notices my aging and hurriedly adjusts his own appearance to match mine. Every ti I realize this, I feel a strange sense of relief... But really, this man is just too foolish. Even after earning the title of Martial Sage, how can he still be so clueless? What exactly are you so fixated on? Was Fanfan's existence truly that impactful to you?"
"In my dream, Hathaway grew frailer with age, until even moving beca difficult."
"But at that mont, I found myself increasingly puzzled. I wondered—if it were possible, would anyone truly want to grow old together? This so-called romance of 'walking hand in hand until our hair turns white'—isn't it rely an illusion shaped by human limitations?"
"In the future, will there be anyone who can take care of him like I do?"
"To age is to decay—what is romantic about that? What is so good about growing old? Hathaway was always so intelligent—when she lay in bed and looked at , was she secretly resenting ?"
"If he ets another woman in the future, will there be anyone who understands him like I do? Will they bla him for his coldness? Hate him for his indifference?"
"And when I reached that thought, I understood—this was just a dream."
"Every ti I think about it, my heart aches... and I feel a tinge of regret. Eighty years... I suppose the end is truly near."
"If it were truly , I would never allow Hathaway to die."
"But I just can't stop worrying about him... Will you go back to being alone again? Will you be alright? In the long years ahead, will you... ever think of ?"
"This is my answer."
---
Hathaway woke from her dream, feeling a dampness on her pillow. She wiped her cheek, then, after a mont of dazed stillness, let out a silent, resigned laugh.
Turning her head, she did not see Taro. She was not surprised. Her husband often left to train after she had fallen asleep.
Sitting up in the wide, soft bed, Hathaway wrapped herself in a thin blanket and stepped barefoot onto the floor. It was then that she noticed the silvery frost of stars and moonlight on the ground. She turned to the room's crystal wall, now transparent.
Outside in the night, she could see Taro's silhouette.
Alone, he walked to the cliffside halfway up the mountain—then leapt, vanishing into the ocean breeze of the night.
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