Mei Terumī did not answer immediately.
She turned her head to look out the window. The window of the Anbu base was very small, just a single one, embedded in the thick stone wall.
The window glass was covered in dust, filtering the outside world into an even blurrier state. But through that layer of gray, she could still see.
The eternally gray sky of the Hidden Mist.
She had been looking at the same sky for over a decade.
From the Ninja Academy classrooms, to the sky above the training grounds, to that dilapidated window in the Anbu dormitory, up to now.
Gray, eternally gray, so gray that it made one forget the sky could be any other color.
"Because someone told me," she said softly. Her voice was very light, so light it sounded like she was talking to herself, so light it was as if she were afraid of startling something:
"If you want to change this Village, you need to change people's hearts. And if you want to change people's hearts, you need to love this Village, and love the people of this Village."
Ao lowered his head.
He stood there, head bowed, looking at the ground beneath his feet.
The dusty floor tiles had stubborn stains embedded in the cracks.
He looked up again and saw a cloud drifting outside the window.
The cloud was gray, merging with the sky, making it impossible to tell where the cloud ended and the sky began.
Finally, he raised his hand, placed it against his chest, and bowed slightly.
This was an ancient custom of the Hidden Mist, rarely used anymore. He performed the salute.
"I understand," he said. His voice was very light, as light as a sigh.
Then he said it again, this time with a steadier voice: "I understand."
From then on, Ao never left Mei Terumī's side.
Chōjūrō had followed her on his own.
That day, Mei Terumī had just returned from a mission.
In a skirmish on the border, she had led Kisame and Zabuza to wipe out a team of infiltrating enemies.
Blood had splattered onto her, now dry, forming dark red, hard patches that clung to her clothes and stuck to her skin.
When she walked, she could smell that rusty, metallic stench.
She prepared to return to the dormitory to change clothes and wash off this bloodiness.
When she reached the entrance of the Anbu base, she saw a boy standing there.
He wore glasses. He was thin and small, looking as if a gust of wind could knock him over.
He stood in the shadows by the door, holding something.
A sword taller than himself, with a wide blade, wrapped in cloth, but the shape was all too familiar.
The Twin Blades: Hiramekarei.
Mei Terumī recognized the sword, and she also recognized the face. The youngest of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.
It was said his talent was very high, it was said he was very timid, and it was said his presence in the Anbu was near zero.
She had seen him a few times, always at mission briefings, huddled in a corner, never speaking.
Mei Terumī walked over.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway. She was still covered in blood, looking as if she had just walked off the battlefield.
She knew what she looked like; anyone who saw her would give way. But the boy did not move.
He saw her approaching, and his face instantly turned red. It was as red as a cooked shrimp, flushing from his cheeks all the way to his earlobes and down to his neck.
"M-Mizukage-sama..." His voice was trembling. Trembling severely.
Mei Terumī stopped. She stood before him, looking down at him.
The boy was a head shorter than her, standing before her, clutching that sword that was taller than himself, his whole body shaking.
But she could tell that the sword was very steady in his hands. Steady, as if it were a part of his body.
"I am not yet the Mizukage," she said. Her voice was calm.
"T-then, future Mizukage-sama..." The boy's face turned even redder. He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the sword, a gesture as if he were psyching himself up: "I-I want to follow you."
Mei Terumī was silent for a moment. She stood there before him, head bowed, watching this boy who was so nervous he couldn't speak coherently.
A layer of mist covered his glasses, obscuring the eyes behind them, but she could sense that gaze.
The gaze she knew all too well. A yearning to be seen, a yearning to be accepted, a yearning for a place where one didn't have to be afraid.
"...Why?" she asked.
Chōjūrō's face turned even redder. He lowered his head, looking at his toes, stammering for a long time, his lips moving again and again, but he just couldn't form a complete sentence.
Then he looked up, peering through the foggy lenses at her.
"B-because... look at those children in the orphanage..." He paused, as if organizing his thoughts: "Look at their eyes... it's like they feel that just being alive is good enough."
Mei Terumī was stunned. The children in the orphanage? She had indeed visited a few times. When passing by on missions, she would bring some things along.
Those children would crowd around, dirty faces, dirty hands, their eyes holding that cautious light. Just like she was when she was little.
She would just glance at them, put the things down, and then leave. That was all. She never felt she had done anything special.
She just glanced at them. She just felt... that being alive was good enough. Being able to survive in this kind of Village was good enough.
She didn't know what her own gaze looked like when she looked at people. She had never known.
Chōjūrō stood there, holding that sword taller than himself, waiting for her answer.
His face was still red, his hands were still shaking, but he did not run. He just stood there, waiting.
Mei Terumī was silent for a while. Finally, she gave a soft smile. Very light, very faint, so faint it was almost imperceptible that she was smiling.
Just the corners of her mouth curved slightly, as if gently touched by something.
"Then from now on, come with me," she said.
Chōjūrō froze for a moment. That hesitation was very short, so short it was almost invisible. Then his face turned even redder.
Not from nervousness, but from something indescribable.
"Yes, Mizukage-sama!" He grinned, nodding vigorously, like a chick pecking at rice.
Then, he trotted to keep up with her pace. That sword, taller than himself, swayed on his back; every step looked like it would crush him, yet he ran very steadily.
He ran by her side, neither too far nor too close, just enough to keep up with her stride.
The eternally gray sky of the Hidden Mist shone down upon them.
Behind them, the base door slowly closed.
The moment the door closed, Shinji stepped out from the shadows at the other end of the hallway.
He stood there, watching that closed door, watching the last sliver of light disappear from the door crack.
He had seen the whole scene just now.
The way the boy was blushing and stuttering, Mei Terumī stunned and then smiling, and then the two of them walking one after another into the depths of the base.
Shinji stood there and watched for a long time. In his heart, there was an inexplicable, unplanned sense of gratification and admiration.
He remembered many years ago, when Mei Terumī was the same age, standing on the edge of the crowd, waiting for someone to say "Let's go" to her.
Back then, it was he who had said it to Mei Terumī. Now it was Mei Terumī's turn to say it to someone else.
She was a natural leader. It was just that in her youth, she happened to encounter his temporary help.
Now, she had already revealed her own capabilities.