Gulp.
The fiery liquor slid down his throat, the sharp burn spreading from his stomach to his lungs. A wave of warmth rose through him, easing the bite of winter.
“Hic.”
The boy exhaled in satisfaction, leaning lazily against the stone behind him.
At a glance, he didn’t quite match the usual shota look. His long hair flowed freely, giving him a striking presence, though the scar across his face broke the harmony of his features. Still, as he often said, a man’s scars added a touch of wildness and charm.
Aside from the clean martial arts uniform and the sword at his side, the gourd of sake was the one thing that stood out. For him, stealing a sip during breaks in winter training was the greatest pleasure of this new life.
“Hakken, kids shouldn’t be drinking.”
Beside him, a boy with a mix of cuteness and a maturity far beyond his years frowned. He reached out as if to stop him, but in the end let his hand fall. The lines at the corners of his mouth twitched slightly before he let out a soft sigh.
His name was Itachi Uchiha, and he was five years old. The boy beside him was someone he had seen about six months earlier during shuriken practice.
Hakken Yoru.
“That’s probably something your mother told you.”
Gulp.
Casting a brief glance at the peculiar boy, Hakken looked away and drank again.
“Too bad I don’t have one.”
Too bad I don’t.
The words were casual, carrying only the faintest trace of regret, without a hint of sorrow.
Itachi’s expression softened, as though he wanted to apologize. In his eyes, being an orphan was miserable—especially in times like these.
“Don’t give me that look.”
Hakken patted Itachi’s shoulder calmly. “For someone like me, it’s not so bad.”
“At least I don’t spend every day sighing and frowning like you, worrying about things you shouldn’t, and rambling on about the meaning of life.”
“Doesn’t that wear you out?”
Sighing and frowning?
Itachi felt a little embarrassed. It was true—after training today, he had sighed more than usual.
The reason? The village, and the Uchiha.
He thought for a moment, then sighed again, the lines on his young face deepening.
“Here, take a sip.”
“Numb your nerves a little—give your brain a proper rest.”
“Trust me, it's the only way to ease your sighs.”
When the gourd was tossed his way, Itachi stared in shock at Hakken’s earnest gaze.
He’d already said children shouldn’t drink. And knowing his temperament, even as an adult he wouldn’t touch the stuff lightly. But refusing a drink offered by a friend might create a rift between them.
Would such a rift affect his friendship with Hakken?
After all, aside from Shisui, Hakken was the only friend he truly respected and could confide in.
The young Itachi’s mind raced. Just from the offered drink, he had already thought of so many things.
“Your biggest flaw is overthinking everything.”
Typical of him. Just from the flicker in Itachi’s eyes, Hakken already knew what was going through his head.
Shaking his head, Hakken started to pull the gourd back, but a small hand suddenly landed on his arm and snatched it away.
Seriously?
Hakken’s eyes widened, completely unprepared for Itachi to actually raise the gourd to his mouth and drink.
Gulp~
As a mouthful of strong baijiu rushed down his throat, Itachi’s expression shifted in seconds—from calm to resolute, from resolute to bewildered, and from bewildered to sheer terror.
“Ah…”
His shoulders trembled violently as he pointed at the gourd in horror.
“That’s right—pure baijiu. At least ten times stronger than that so-called sake from Konoha.”
Hakken took the gourd back with satisfaction and explained. As a Transmigrator, he could never stomach sake—that stuff was no different from soft drinks. This authentic white liquor, however, was exactly to his taste.
Of course, he doubted anyone in this world could actually handle liquor of this strength.
“Ah!”
His throat burning like fire, Itachi shot to his feet and bolted forward. He needed to find water before he really ended up spewing a Great Fireball.
What was this stuff?
Just remembering the taste inside the gourd sent him into a panic. He had sneaked sips of his father’s liquor before, but this wasn’t even in the same category!
Watching Itachi’s retreating figure, Hakken grew unexpectedly calm. His brows lifted slightly as if he had reached a decision, and he drew in a deep breath.
“Hey!”
The powerful shout seemed to freeze the snow-covered training ground. Itachi’s flushed face whipped back, drawn by the roar, wanting to see what his friend—who clung so fiercely to their bond—was about to do now.
Snowflakes melted instantly on his burning cheeks as the boy with the etched lines on his young face heard the words.
“Pleased to meet you.”
“My name is Hakken Yoru. A man destined to reach the pinnacle.”
He extended his hand in a gesture of a distant clasp. One hand gripping his sword, the other carrying the gourd, the youth vanished from the training ground.
A true friend?
Breathing hard, face still burning, Itachi finally nodded and rasped out,
“My name is Itachi Uchiha.”
“Nice to meet you!”