20demayo Chapter 509 Night Under the Orange Lens
Chapter 509 Night Under the Orange Lens
The campsite became lively again.
Someone added new firewood to the campfire, and sparks crackled and leaped up, exploding into a small orange-red halo under the night sky, illuminating the young, weary but not dejected faces.
Some people were rummaging through their dry rations, some were quietly checking tomorrow's duty roster, and some were already snoring in their tents—their snoring was quite loud, audible even through the canvas.
Or rather—these young people are learning how to gradually switch from the posture of war back to the way living people should be.
Yahiko, with his arms around Nagato and Konan, huddled around the campfire talking. Their voices drifted across half the camp, making them hard to hear clearly, but their laughter was distinct.
Occasionally, Yahiko's voice would suddenly rise a notch, followed by a dull thud as Konan slapped the back of his head.
Everyone has somewhere to go.
Obito Uchiha looked at what he was holding.
An empty bag of dried fruit.
It was given to me by Senior Sakumo.
He turned the paper bag over, shook it, and confirmed that there were indeed no pieces left inside.
He ran his fingertips along the crease at the top of the bag, then carefully folded it along the original crease—double fold, neat and tidy—and stuffed it into his pocket.
Obito Uchiha's gaze swept around the camp.
From Yahiko's laughter to the occasional rustling of someone turning over in the tent area, and then to the whispered exchanges between the ninjas on duty as they changed shifts.
Finally, it landed under the crooked pine tree at the edge of the field.
Silver-white wispy hair, a black mask, and a straight, motionless stance.
Kakashi stood there alone, facing southwest.
That direction is the direction where the three predecessors disappeared.
That was also the direction in which his father disappeared.
Obito looked at it for three seconds.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He raised his right hand and scratched the back of his head—his fingernails scraping against his scalp with an unpleasant sound—and made a muffled click of his tongue.
Finally, I took a step and walked in that direction.
Footsteps rustled softly on the gravel ground.
He neither deliberately lightened the intensity nor deliberately increased it.
It was just the sound of normal footsteps. With Kakashi's hearing, he should have heard it the moment Kakashi took his first step.
But the silver-white head didn't turn around.
When Obito Uchiha walked up to Kakashi, he didn't speak immediately, but instead plopped down on a low rock next to him.
The stone was uncomfortable to the touch.
And it was cold, extremely cold. I should have just grabbed a waterproof cloth to put on it.
But he didn't move.
The two sat side by side for a short while.
The campfire flickered a dozen paces behind them, casting long, long shadows of the two boys that stretched all the way to the bare roots of the pine tree, like two dark ribbons nailed to the ground.
In the distance, Yahiko's laughter rang out again.
This time, I could vaguely make out a few words—it seemed to be imitating Jiraiya-sensei's exaggerated tone during class.
Obito Uchiha's lips twitched.
But he didn't laugh out loud.
He simply turned his gaze away from the campfire and glanced at the person standing beside him out of the corner of his eye.
Kakashi's breathing was steady.
His shoulders weren't tense, and his back wasn't stiff. Outwardly, he looked no different from usual.
But he stands here.
A person.
Facing that direction.
Obito broke the silence first, his hands in his pockets, trying to appear as casual as possible.
"Feed".
It paused for a moment.
"Are you alright?"
"Well."
Kakashi's voice came from behind the mask, muffled, as if through a layer of cotton cloth.
His tone was exactly the same as usual—as bland as plain water diluted with plain water.
The night wind blew through the pine branches overhead, sending a few withered yellow needles falling.
A piece landed on Obito's goggles, and he reached out and brushed it away.
I waited for two seconds.
three seconds.
"...Just 'that'?"
Kakashi finally turned his gaze away from the southwest.
He didn't turn to look at Obito.
He merely blinked, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the black-haired boy sitting on a rock beside him, his legs swinging back and forth.
Then his right hand hung down at his side, his fingertips unconsciously resting on the empty space at his lower back.
— I touched it.
Then I put it down again.
The movement was so fast that if Obito hadn't been watching closely, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.
But Obito was watching.
He saw it.
That spot is where the scabbard of the White Fang Short Sword originally hung.
This evening, Kakashi personally returned the knife to his father.
Obito Uchiha opened his mouth.
His lips moved, and a syllable rose in his throat, but he couldn't find a suitable outlet.
Those words of comfort—every one was right, yet none of them were enough.
It's not that I can't say it.
He suddenly realized that Kakashi didn't need these words.
This guy knows his father's strength better than anyone else.
Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha—what that name meant in the ninja world didn't need anyone to explain to his son.
All he needs is someone to sit quietly beside him while he stares blankly in the direction his father disappeared.
Obito Uchiha swallowed back all the words that were about to come out.
He simply reached into his pocket and felt the folded bag of dried fruit to make sure it was still there.
The edges of the paper bag were a bit stiff, pressing against my fingertips through the fabric, with a barely noticeable presence.
After a while...
The night wind changed direction and blew from the east, carrying the acrid smell of burning firewood from the campfire in the camp.
Kakashi Hatake suddenly spoke up.
His voice was exactly the same as usual. Flat. Even. Without any extra emotional fluctuations.
He said that next time they meet, he wants to see how much I've improved.
Obito Uchiha pulled his hand out of his pocket and placed it on his knee.
I tapped my kneecap twice with my fingertips.
"So what do you plan to do?"
"Extra training."
Two words: crisp and clean.
Kakashi turned around, walked past the low rocks, and headed towards the camp.
His steps were unhurried, his back taut like a straight line. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, casting a cold glow on the tips of his silvery-white hair.
Take three steps.
"Tomorrow at five in the morning. In the woods behind."
His tone remained unchanged, and he casually added—
"Come?"
Obito Uchiha's face instantly fell.
"……etc."
He jumped up from the rock, and the moment his buttocks left the cold stone surface, he even felt a sense of relief—but this pleasure lasted only 0.3 seconds before being completely crushed by the words "5 a.m."
"Five in the morning?! Are you serious?! The sun's already—"
"The sun doesn't need to rise, and the knife doesn't need sunlight."
Kakashi didn't turn his head; his voice drifted from ahead, calm and even, as if stating a physical law.
"Then at least ten o'clock—!"