Six months later, Hayashi had recovered and left the hospital.
Doctor Philip was visibly reluctant to let him go; after all, where else could he find such exceptional material?
Hayashi received one million dollars as compensation for the car accident. After discharge, he used vague memories to locate his family home—but immediately sold the dilapidated property.
He had no relatives in this world, and no one had lived in the house for a year. Selling it made the most sense.
With the money, he rented a small storefront in a quiet part of town. After tidying it, he moved in.
The shop was off the main street, easy to miss unless one looked carefully, but Hayashi didn't mind. He only needed a peaceful place to sort through his thoughts.
Had he truly returned from another world, or was he trapped in Uchiha Yama's Mangekyō genjutsu? Perhaps everything in the ninja world had been a dream, a hallucination from his vegetative state.
But that "dream" felt far too real.
No, that was not a dream, he was certain.
Now, he had no way back. The System was gone, and there was no chakra to draw upon. He was just an ordinary person.
In the blink of a month, his storefront was operational.
He had once told Mikoto that if he ever stopped being a ninja, he would open a bakery. Now he had.
At first, only nearby neighbors visited, but Hayashi didn't mind. With the compensation money, he could live comfortably without worry.
Though he no longer possessed chakra or the ability to perform jutsu, he could still study knowledge and techniques from the ninja world, such as sealing methods. Life flowed quietly, like clear water reflecting faint, ethereal glimpses of his past.
Every morning, Hayashi rose early, opened the shop, and settled into a chair with a pot of tea, reading silently.
Gradually, the residents grew accustomed to their quiet, refined new neighbor.
Time passed swiftly. Two years flew by. Changes rippled through the town—some neighbors moved, others arrived. The nearby Delicacies closed permanently due to hygiene violations.
During these two years, Hayashi's bakery prospered, and most townspeople preferred buying from him.
The kindhearted local women often tried to play matchmaker, introducing girls from their square-dancing groups, but he politely declined. He was still waiting, biding his time for the day he might return to the ninja world.
Nightfall brought a different sensation. As neighbors retired and streets emptied, his shop remained the only quiet space. In that solitude, loneliness would quietly creep in.
Another three years passed.
Hayashi's bakery doubled in size, and he purchased the storefront outright for convenience.
In late autumn, leaves from the willows along the street fell, carried away by the wind, rootless and drifting. Hayashi stepped outside. Though his appearance had barely changed since five years ago, his aura had matured completely.
The man who had once been so certain about the ninja world now questioned everything. Perhaps his memories of the previous life were the brain's response to trauma, like Teddy Daniels from Shutter Island, a mind constructing alternate reality.
Gradually, Hayashi accepted the present world, preparing to live as an ordinary mortal.
Years surged by. In the blink of a decade, Hayashi had entered middle age. He remained alone.
The town's residents moved on, but he refused to leave, becoming known as the most stubborn nail house owner.
Frequent checkups with Doctor Philip revealed nothing amiss.
Suddenly, a piercing, urgent voice echoed in his mind:
"Host, brain waves abnormal. Warning! Warning!"
Hayashi, as if awakening from a ten-year dream, opened his eyes. The world around him had vanished.
Before him hovered the holographic projection of the System. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"System, where were you all these years?" he asked, voice trembling.
The System replied casually, "I was here the whole time."
"You couldn't see what I was going through?"
"No, I could only detect abnormal brain waves and immediately initiated the wake-up procedure."
"How long is 'immediately'?"
"One second."
Hayashi's eyes widened in disbelief. "I lived ten years, but only one second passed in reality?" Cold sweat ran down his face.
"This genjutsu… it's too powerful," he whispered.
"What would have happened if you hadn't woken me?"
"According to the System's calculations: First second, cellular overactivity and damage; second second, massive cell death; third, total organ failure; fourth, brain death…"
"So without the System, I'd be dead now?"
"Regrettably, yes."
If anyone had witnessed Hayashi's battle with Uchiha Yama, they would have seen a surreal scene.
The young man had clearly defeated Yama, grabbed his throat, and then suddenly closed his eyes, appearing to sleep.
Yama, coughing, laughed wildly as if insane. He believed Taikōjin was the ultimate genjutsu; once activated, no one could escape its cycle of reincarnation.
After several seconds, Yama's expression calmed. Seeing Hayashi's youthful face rekindled a surge of hatred, and he chuckled softly: "Die."
Hayashi opened his eyes and nodded.
Die.
The Chidori in his right hand surged, striking straight through Yama's chest in a single blow.
"You… you were hit by Taikōjin… how is this possible?"
Yama staggered back as Hayashi advanced, leaping up and smashing his palm down on his head.
Yama, bleeding from every orifice, tried to rise, but Hayashi delivered a crushing follow-up.
Silver hair disheveled, Yama knelt once more.
Hayashi extended his right hand, fingers forming a precise, blade-like grip, and removed the pair of Mangekyō Sharingan.
---
Damn😹
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