Chapter 78 (Patreon)

By the time Nerona Mihawk arrived at the place where Sarutobi Asuma’s body had been laid to rest, a large number of shinobi had already gathered.

Mihawk and Hinata stopped at the edge of the crowd and looked towards Team 10, who stood together at the centre.

Shikamaru, Ino, and Chōji all had their heads lowered. Their eyes were hidden beneath the shadows cast across their faces, but the two streams of tears running down each of their cheeks were unmistakable.

Quiet sobs continued to rise beneath the sound of the rain.

Mihawk looked around but saw no sign of Kurenai Yūhi.

The sky was dark and overcast, and rain poured down without pause. It was almost exactly like the weather on the day of the Third Hokage’s funeral.

Kurenai was already pregnant. Even though the man she loved had died, attending a ceremony like this in her current condition would have placed too much strain on her.

After watching Team 10 for a moment, Mihawk leaned closer to Hinata and whispered something into her ear.

Hinata nodded several times before turning and running through the heavy rain.

Mihawk had asked her to visit Kurenai and offer Team 8’s support.

Not long afterward, Shino Aburame appeared. He had evidently heard the news at home and hurried over immediately.

Mihawk and Shino remained outside the crowd, allowing the torrential rain to soak through their clothes as they silently watched the ceremony.

Two hours passed before the gathered shinobi finished saying their final farewells to Sarutobi Asuma and gradually began to leave.

Eventually, only Team 8 and Team 10 remained in the clearing.

Mihawk, who had been standing at the edge of the gathering, finally stepped forward.

Shino followed behind him.

Team 10 still stood around Asuma’s body with their heads lowered. None of them reacted as Mihawk approached.

“My condolences,” Mihawk said quietly.

“My condolences,” Shino added.

Even after hearing their voices, none of the three moved.

They stood there as though their souls had left their bodies. Had it not been for the thick streams of tears mixing with the rain on their faces, one might have believed they had lost consciousness entirely.

Mihawk raised a hand and gently rested it on Shikamaru’s head.

“Do you need help?”

He did not explain what he meant.

There was no need.

Mihawk knew Shikamaru would understand.

Among all the shinobi of their generation, Hinata was the most important person in Mihawk’s life.

Shikamaru, however, was the only person Mihawk had come to regard as a true friend.

“…”

Shikamaru finally raised his head.

He bit down hard on his lower lip. His usual lazy expression was nowhere to be seen. His face was filled with grief and regret, yet the stubborn look in his eyes made it clear that he still could not bring himself to speak.

Mihawk removed his hand from Shikamaru’s head and turned away.

“Come and find me once you’ve made up your mind.”

He began walking back the way he had come, leaving behind words that caused Shikamaru’s tears to fall even harder.

“And when you make your battle plan, remember to include both me and Team 8.”

Mihawk paused briefly.

“Otherwise… we’re no longer friends.”

Shino adjusted his sunglasses without saying anything, then turned and followed Mihawk.

Once he caught up, Shino kept his gaze fixed ahead as he asked in his usual calm voice, “You intend to help them?”

“Yeah.”

Mihawk nodded.

“You don’t have to come.”

“No. I’m going.”

Shino shook his head.

“Whether it is because of Kurenai-sensei’s relationship with Asuma-sensei or because of our friendship with Shikamaru, I will go with them.”

The corners of Mihawk’s mouth lifted slightly.

“I’ll let you know when the time comes.”

“Understood.”

The two separated at an intersection, and Mihawk returned home alone.

The moment he entered the house, white mist began to rise from his kimono.

The moisture trapped within the fabric evaporated as though the clothes were being heated from the inside. Within seconds, his kimono was completely dry.

Mihawk returned to his room and dried his hair.

When he saw the dishevelled futon, he knew Hanabi had already left for the Academy.

Once his hair was dry, Mihawk straightened the bedding and left the room. He went to the dojo, retrieved a sword stand, and carried it into the living room.

After drawing his sword and placing it carefully on the stand, Mihawk opened the cabinet beneath the low tea table. He took out a bottle of anti-rust oil and several cotton swabs, then began maintaining the blade.

It was nothing more than an ordinary sword worth a little over two thousand ryō.

Even so, many powerful enemies had died upon its edge.

The ordinary shinobi it had cut down were hardly worth mentioning.

Among those who had fallen to this blade were Momochi Zabuza, an elite jōnin, and Kimimaro, whose strength had approached the level of a Kage.

There was also Sasori of the Red Sand, a genuine Kage-level shinobi.

Beyond them were the sixty-six Sunagakure and Otogakure shinobi Mihawk had killed, along with the wandering and enemy shinobi he had encountered during missions over the past two years.

This ordinary sword had long since earned the reputation of a blade that had slain over a hundred people.

Over the years, Mihawk had considered replacing it with a superior weapon.

Unfortunately, obtaining a truly exceptional blade in the shinobi world was far from easy.

Moreover, once a sword was coated in Armament Haki, even an ordinary blade could be transformed into something extraordinary.

Since Mihawk had never found a blade that truly suited him, he had continued using this one.

After carefully applying the anti-rust oil, Mihawk left both the sword and its stand on the tea table.

He then returned to the dojo, sat down cross-legged, and began listening for the Breath of All Things.

After emerging from the spiritual world, the next stage of Mihawk’s training had been to expand the range of his perception and sharpen his ability to detect the presence of everything around him.

However, the news of Sarutobi Asuma’s death had interrupted that training.

Even after returning from the farewell ceremony, Mihawk’s emotions remained undisturbed.

Within only a few seconds, his mind became completely still.

His perception, which closely resembled Observation Haki, spread outward like a vast net, searching for the presence of everything within its reach.

He listened to each breath.

From faint to powerful.

From near to distant.

By the time night fell, Hinata still had not returned to prepare dinner for him.

“Mihawk-nii-san…”

When Hanabi returned from the Academy, her clear voice reached him inside the dojo.

Mihawk withdrew from his meditative state, rose to his feet, and went to prepare dinner for her.

“Mihawk-nii-san, where is Nee-san?”

Hanabi stood beside him in the kitchen as he cooked, curious about why Hinata was not at home.

Mihawk did not conceal the truth from her.

He told Hanabi what had happened.

The cruel reality of Asuma’s death caused Hanabi’s young face to turn slightly pale. The fear in her eyes was impossible to hide.

Mihawk placed a hand on her small back and gently patted her, offering what comfort he could without saying anything.

For the first time in a long while, only Mihawk and Hanabi sat together for dinner that evening.

Under normal circumstances, Hanabi would have been delighted to have him all to herself.

Tonight, however, she remained completely silent.

She did not say a single word.

Mihawk assumed she was still struggling to accept the harsh reality of Asuma’s death.

Clack.

After taking only a few bites of rice, Hanabi suddenly placed her chopsticks down.

She jumped from her chair and threw herself into Mihawk’s arms.

Tears filled her eyes as she clutched his clothes and pleaded in a trembling voice.

“Mihawk-nii-san… promise Hanabi that nothing will ever happen to you.”

The fear in the young girl’s voice caused Mihawk’s heart to tremble slightly.

He gently held Hanabi’s face between both hands and looked directly into her tearful eyes.

Then he gave her a firm nod.

“I promise.”

His voice was calm, but there was no hesitation in it.

“Your Mihawk-nii isn’t going anywhere.”