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Midorima couldn't cure the illness in his mind—at best, he could only treat physical injuries.
The Third Mizukage had also suffered injuries during their sparring sessions, and Midorima took the opportunity to heal his old wounds as well.
Because of this, even though the Third had been busy for an entire month, there wasn't much difference in his condition compared to before.
Sometimes, he would become completely unreasonable, lashing out with every deadly technique at his disposal. Midorima had lost count of how many times his ribs had been broken.
When the Third was lucid, he was much calmer, but he never lost an argument. If he couldn't win with logic, he would play the old man card, feigning senility.
Over the course of nearly a month, his emotions stabilized somewhat, and he even gained a little weight. Midorima also taught him how to fish, giving him a way to pass the time when he had nothing else to do.
Hearing footsteps behind him, the Third suddenly turned his head, raising a finger to his lips in a silent gesture toward Midorima.
"I'm leaving tomorrow," Midorima said, completely ignoring the Third's attitude.
He remembered one time when the Third had been fishing—he had waited a full twenty-four hours, only for the old man to hand him two crabs at the end and tell him to cook them.
At the time, he had seriously considered scooping out the crab roe on the spot and making the Third a crab roe sushi.
Since when were crabs caught by fishing?
They had obviously crawled out of the sea and been picked up by the Third.
Even now, Midorima could still recall the smug look on the old man's face.
From that moment on, Midorima learned a valuable lesson: never try to outlast an old man in patience. They were always one step slower than the young.
If he actually waited for the Third to speak, he'd probably have to stay until the next evening just to say goodbye.
The Third turned his head fully to stare at Midorima, his expression blank, sending a slight chill down Midorima's spine.
"I really have things to do."
He couldn't just skip the selection exams because of something the old man said. Besides, this place was quite far from Kirigakure.
Back when he was drunk, Midorima had somehow ended up in this strange location.
He had fallen through a crevice at the top of the mountain and emerged from a cave at the base, arriving at the seaside.
Apart from a few scattered fishing boats during the day, no one ever paid attention to this place.
"No, I mean… your clothes… You're seriously going back like that?" the Third asked, surprised.
Midorima looked down at his tattered, bloodstained clothes and rolled his eyes.
"Wasn't this your doing?" Midorima emphasized.
"Mine? Don't joke around. If I did it, why don't I remember? You're the one sneaking off to do shady business, and now you're trying to pin it on me… Disgusting." The Third stuck out his tongue at Midorima.
"..."
Midorima clenched his fists and took a deep breath, repeating "respect the old, cherish the young" a hundred times in his mind. But then he remembered the mocking face the Third had made, and his anger flared up again.
At the critical moment, words like "inspection fee," "medical expenses," and "funeral costs" flashed through his mind, instantly sobering him up.
"Old man, I know some things shouldn't be said right now, and I know the current you isn't the real you. Sometimes, I even think… what if this version of you was the real one? That would be nice. Even though, in the past three weeks, you've nearly killed me multiple times, I'm still grateful to you. I truly hope you regain your memories soon… I have many questions about Kirigakure, and maybe only you can answer them."
Midorima bowed deeply to the Third Mizukage.
The Third might not have been a good person. When it came to governing the village, he and Yagura (under Obito's control) were like the "Sleeping Dragon and Young Phoenix" of the ninja world—rare "talents" indeed. The fact that Kirigakure hadn't gone "bankrupt" under their leadership was only thanks to the village's deep reserves.
Even so, by the time of the Fourth Great Ninja War, Kirigakure could only boast a handful of notable shinobi—Mei Terumī, Chōjūrō, Ao, and Suigetsu Hōzuki, among a few others—clearly lagging behind the other villages.
Still, these past few weeks, the Third had been decent enough.
If the Third Mizukage hadn't been sparring with him all this time, Midorima wouldn't have been able to improve his skills so much. Though, that probably hadn't been the old man's intention.
Then again, maybe the Third had found some release in all this too.
After all, hitting someone was always more satisfying than being hit.
"Hmm… Maybe by the time you return, the mysteries troubling you will be solved," the Third said, uncharacteristically serious for once, without a trace of his usual feigned ignorance.
"Did you recover your memories?" Midorima asked, startled.
"What memories?" The Third looked puzzled. "Did you do something to betray me?"
And there it was again…
Midorima rolled his eyes.
Sometimes, the lucid Third was worse than the senile one. At least the latter, when he hit people, did it cleanly, without dragging things out.
They say "clothes make the man."
But that wasn't entirely accurate. It should be "the man complements the clothes"—otherwise, there wouldn't be such a thing as buyer's remorse versus model shots.
Midorima's appearance definitely fell into the "extreme buyer's remorse" category—something even Mei Terumī had admitted. But walking around in tattered rags wasn't doing him any favors either.
To preserve his dignity, Midorima decided to set off at night, sneaking back to his residence. Once he changed clothes, everything would be fine again.
When he said his goodbyes to the Third Mizukage, the old man was sitting by the shore, fishing. Upon hearing Midorima's words, he simply raised a finger, signaling him not to disturb the fish.
Midorima wasn't sure what the Third was really thinking, but he took it as silent approval.
After bidding farewell, Midorima quickly climbed the cliff and sprinted toward Kirigakure.
Considering that even in the dead of night, there would still be shinobi on patrol along the main roads—and given that his current appearance was far too disheveled—he opted for side paths, carefully monitoring his surroundings to avoid detection.
By the time he reached his residence, the sky was just beginning to lighten. The village was nearly empty, save for a few half-asleep guards nearing the end of their shifts.
This was the time when security was at its weakest.
Midorima slipped into Kirigakure undetected and made his way to his home. Just as he was about to open the door, he sensed a disturbance in the air behind him. Instinctively, he dropped low and twisted his body, driving an elbow toward the attacker's throat.
The assailant reacted just as swiftly, deflecting the strike with an arm before retreating two meters and drawing three kunai, poised to throw.
Midorima took a step back as well, finally getting a clear look at his would-be ambusher—and immediately felt a headache coming on.
"Mei Terumī!"
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Mei demanded, her guard still up. "And how do you know my name?"
"Huh?" Midorima blinked, then remembered his current state and forced an awkward laugh.
Running into Mei at this hour, looking like this—there was no way this wouldn't be awkward.
"Mei, it's me. Midorima."
"Midorima?" Mei squinted, then relaxed slightly as Midorima pushed back his hair, revealing his face. She quickly stowed her kunai. "What… What happened to you? Where have you been this past month?"
"It's a long story. Let me change first." Midorima pushed the door open. Mei hesitated for a moment before following him inside.