Sōmi and Sasori walked along the streets of Sunagakure. As for Pakura… after delivering the fruit basket, she had hurriedly left.
To Sōmi, this was just a minor interlude. After all, in this precarious shinobi world, he wouldn't consider anything outside of gaining sufficient strength.
The wind above the village made a low, mournful "wooo" sound, but to the villagers, this was a familiar background noise that didn't dampen their enthusiasm in the slightest.
"Come and take a look! Horse sausage smoked with a secret sauce and spruce leaves!"
"Guaranteed to leave you craving more! Once you've had one, you'll want another!" A middle-aged man with a thick beard shouted energetically at the street corner, advertising his goods.
Hearing this, Sasori walked straight to the vendor. He bent down, grabbed a piece of horse sausage, and squeezed it to test its texture.
Sōmi could only follow behind him helplessly, his face full of disdain as he looked at the rows of smoked horse sausages displayed on the stall.
Unlike ordinary sausages, these smoked horse sausages were unusually large, roughly the thickness of an adult's arm and about the same length.
This peculiar food had only appeared in Sunagakure two or three years ago. It was said to be a traditional recipe passed down by a tribe deep in the Land of Wind.
For reasons unknown, Sasori had taken a liking to these dry, blackened sausages.
The sight of them completely killed Sōmi's appetite. The one time Sasori managed to coax him into trying a bite, Sōmi had spat it out immediately and felt nauseous for days afterward.
According to Sasori, the self-proclaimed "Dark Gourmet," he loved the bold, robust texture of the sausages.
But to Sōmi, the experience of chewing smoked horse sausage was more like having a convulsing wild horse writhing on his tongue.
It was a level of intensity that most people simply couldn't handle…
Sōmi speculated that perhaps Sasori's traumatic childhood had left him emotionally closed off, and this kind of extreme, stimulating food was able to open his heart and let him feel the vitality of life again.
The vendor claimed that these smoked horse sausages were highly nutritious. Children who grew up eating them would undoubtedly develop strong, healthy bodies!
Watching Sasori leave the stall with several large strings of sausages, Sōmi couldn't help but smile faintly.
"Sōmi, I'm going to bring some sausages to Granny Chiyo. Do you want to come with me?" Sasori asked.
"Uh… Elder Chiyo is getting on in years. Her digestion might not be great, so a food like horse sausage might not be suitable for her…" Sōmi said, hinting at his concern.
"Is that so?" Sasori tilted his head slightly.
"Of course, but if you want to let her try a little, that's fine too." Sōmi had always been grateful to Granny Chiyo, who often asked him to report on Sasori's whereabouts. He had learned quite a few jutsu from her as a result.
Seeing Sasori and Granny Chiyo reconcile warmed Sōmi's heart. As their "life coach," he felt he had done his job well.
After all, the two of them were now striving toward the same challenging goal, and their shared purpose naturally helped them resolve their differences.
"You go ahead. I'm heading back to the temple," Sōmi said, naturally declining to accompany him.
By the afternoon, Sōmi had returned to the familiar temple.
From afar, he could see a massive ginkgo tree towering in the temple's backyard, its broad branches stretching outward.
At this time of year, the ginkgo leaves seemed to be draped in a glowing robe. Under the sunlight, they shimmered with dazzling, multicolored hues—not just green but radiant and mesmerizing.
As the wind caressed the leaves, the light seemed embedded within them, flickering with their movements like sunlight dancing on water. In the arid desert region, such a lush, vibrant tree was a rare sight.
It also seemed to solidify the faith of the surrounding villagers.
Today, the temple was bustling with worshippers. Wisps of incense smoke rose into the air, only to be scattered by the wind once they reached a certain height.
"Uncle Enkōka!" Sōmi called out.
The middle-aged monk, who was busy tending to the worshippers, lit up at the sound of Sōmi's voice. After exchanging a few hurried words with the people in front of him, he walked over to greet Sōmi.
"I heard you were hospitalized? Are you alright?" Uncle Enkōka grabbed Sōmi's shoulder and gave it a firm pat.
"If something were wrong, would I still be standing here? Don't worry, I know my limits," Sōmi replied with a laugh.
"The whole village is talking about it—you, a single shinobi, taking on three members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen and saving many of our village's shinobi," Uncle Enkōka said, clearly well-informed.
"Ah! I was careless! I almost lost my life out there…" Sōmi said with a wry smile, still feeling a bit shaken.
"You must always act within your limits, assess the situation clearly, and avoid recklessness. Your own life is the most important thing!" Uncle Enkōka lectured.
After chatting with Uncle Enkōka for a while, Sōmi made his way to the backyard.
Looking up at the lush green ginkgo leaves above, Sōmi saw sunlight filtering through the gaps, creating fan-shaped shadows on the ground.
"You're back?" an elderly voice called out.
"Yes, Master… I'm back," Sōmi replied, turning to look at the small, frail figure standing at the doorway of a nearby house. Despite his age, the old monk radiated a sharp, spirited energy.
A gentle breeze swept through, rustling the leaves and causing the shadows on the ground to sway.
The two of them entered the house, where Sōmi began recounting his recent experiences in detail.
A kettle sat on a charcoal stove, the red-hot embers licking at its base. Occasionally, the kettle let out a bubbling sound.
The old monk listened quietly, a smile on his face. Only when Sōmi spoke of his close brushes with danger did his expression falter slightly.
"And that's everything!" Sōmi finished in one breath, feeling parched. When he looked down, he noticed a steaming cup of tea already placed on the table. His heart warmed at the sight.
The tea, golden in color, contained green tea leaves and grains of roasted rice. Sōmi took a sip, savoring the subtle fragrance of the green tea and the rich, toasty aroma of the rice. The two flavors blended harmoniously, creating a fresh, smooth taste with a lingering sweetness.
"Sōmi, there's something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time…" the old monk said as he silently refilled Sōmi's cup with the boiling water.
"You grew up in the temple, yet you seem to have no faith in the gods or Buddha," the old monk remarked.
"That's true," Sōmi admitted openly.
"Why?" the old monk pressed.
"Because gods and Buddha, as objects of faith, can only restrain the actions of the devout. When faced with non-believers or those of other faiths, they often lead to conflict," Sōmi replied without hesitation.
"Monks spend their days serving the gods and Buddha, yet they never see divine intervention to save the world."
"The temple is merely a spiritual sanctuary for those who yearn for peace. It cannot bring true peace, nor can it shield us from the turmoil of reality," Sōmi concluded.
The old monk fell silent at this response. As someone who had spent his life devoted to kindness and witnessed countless wars and chaos, he understood all too well.
Sōmi's words struck at the very heart of religion.