The first person was Might Duy.
That day, Nobunaga was writing something by the Training Ground. Might Duy ran over, sweating profusely, his green bodysuit clinging to his skin.
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"Some thoughts," Nobunaga said.
"What kind of thoughts?"
"How to keep everyone alive."
Might Duy was taken aback for a moment. Then he squatted down, looking seriously at those papers.
His eyebrows were thick, his eyes large. When he looked at things, he liked to squint, as if trying to etch every word into his brain with effort.
"I don't really understand it."
He scratched his head: "But this'staying alive' you're talking about... is it like me doing push-ups every day? Five hundred a day, alive so I keep doing them. Reach a thousand, alive. Reach ten thousand, still alive."
Nobunaga looked at him.
"More or less."
Might Duy grinned.
"Then I get it. You have to stay alive to get stronger. You have to get stronger to protect more people."
He stood up, giving a thumbs-up. "I don't really understand what you're writing, but I support you!"
He ran off, shouting as he went: "Five hundred extra reps today!"
The second person was Yuhi Shinku.
That evening, Nobunaga was sitting on a rock by the Training Ground writing when a figure's shadow fell before him.
"Still writing that theory of yours?"
Nobunaga looked up. Yuhi Shinku stood before him, wearing a dark kimono, a short sword hanging at his waist.
The setting sun shone on him, casting his shadow long.
"Mm."
"How long have you been writing?"
"Almost a month."
Shinku sat down beside him, picked up the papers, and leafed through them.
He read more seriously than Might Duy, turning page after page, occasionally pausing to think.
"You say 'everyone has dignity'," he asked. "What do you mean?"
Nobunaga thought for a moment. "It means not looking at whose child you are. Looking at what you've done."
Shinku was silent for a while.
He thought of his own clan. The Yuhi clan. Not small in Konoha, but not big either.
Never the top, but better than the bottom. He'd known since childhood that to make something of himself, he had to rely on himself.
"Interesting," he said. "Keep writing."
He stood up and left. After a few steps, he stopped, not turning around. "If you need any help, you can come to me."
The third person was Sakumo Hatake.
That day, Nobunaga was eating in the cafeteria. Sakumo walked over with his tray and sat down opposite him.
He didn't speak, just ate. When he finished, he put down his chopsticks.
"I heard about your theory."
Nobunaga looked at him.
"You say 'everyone has enough to eat'," Sakumo said. "How do you achieve that?"
"Farming. Building roads. Transporting grain."
"Who will do it?"
"Ninja."
Sakumo fell silent. He was a Ninja. His father was a Ninja. His grandfather was a Ninja.
Three generations of his family had been killing. And now someone was saying Ninja didn't have to kill; they could farm, build roads, transport grain.
"Do you think that's possible?" he asked.
"How will we know if we don't try?"
Sakumo looked at him. Something stirred in those calm eyes.
He stood up, picked up his tray, and left. After two steps, he stopped, not turning back.
"I'll try."
The fourth person was Orochimaru.
When he appeared at the door of Nobunaga's dormitory, it was already dark.
Nobunaga opened the door and saw him standing in the corridor, hands in his pockets, moonlight illuminating his pale face.
"I read your writings," Orochimaru said.
"Come in and sit?"
Orochimaru walked in. He sat at the table, picked up the papers, and leafed through them page by page.
He read more carefully than anyone, slower than anyone. Sometimes he stopped, thought, then continued.
After turning the last page, he set the papers down.
"What you're saying requires power."
Nobunaga nodded.
"How do you plan to gain that power?"
"First, survive. The First Great Ninja War isn't over yet. Only those who survive have the right to speak.
Then grow stronger. Strong enough that others are willing to listen. Then—"
He paused. "Become Hokage."
Orochimaru looked at him. A light flickered in those narrow eyes.
"Hokage," he repeated.
"Yes."
Orochimaru was silent for a long time. So long Nobunaga thought he wouldn't answer. Then he stood up and walked towards the door.
"Interesting," he said. "More interesting than those old, worn-out ideas."
He left. The door closed softly behind him.
The fifth person was Jiraiya.
He arrived by climbing through the window.
Nobunaga was writing when he heard the window rattle. He looked up to see a white-haired head poking in.
"Hey," Jiraiya said with a grin. "Still writing?"
"Why didn't you use the door?"
"Where's the fun in using the door?"
Jiraiya jumped in, sat on his bed, and crossed his legs.
"I heard about your theory from Orochimaru. He said it's interesting. There aren't many things he calls 'interesting'."
Nobunaga looked at him.
"So?"
"So I came to see." Jiraiya looked around. "Your place is really shabby. Do all Senju live in places like this?"
"Not all."
Jiraiya made an "oh" sound and didn't ask further. He picked up the papers, flipped through them, looked for a while, then put them down.
"To be honest, I don't really understand it," he said. "But I think you're right. Staying alive is better than anything. Once you're dead, you have nothing."
He looked at Nobunaga and suddenly smiled.
"You know, I used to think living was all about having fun.
Eating good food, looking at pretty girls, doing interesting things. But your ideas make me feel—"
He thought for a moment. "Like maybe besides having fun, there's something else to do."
He stood up, walked to the window, and glanced back at Nobunaga.
"Alright, I'm off. Keep writing. Show it to me when you're done."
He climbed out the window and disappeared into the night.
The sixth person was Zixiao Mitarashi.
He arrived carrying a jug of wine. Nobunaga smelled the alcohol when he opened the door.
"Want a drink?" Shixiao raised the jug.
"I'm thirteen."
"Never mind then." Shixiao took a swig himself and leaned against the doorframe.
He wore all black, his hair tied in a ponytail, a Kunai pouch at his waist. His eyes were bright, carrying a lazy sharpness.
"I heard about your ideas," he said. "Some say you're a madman. Some say you're a fool. Others say you're a Senju traitor, biting the hand that feeds you."
Nobunaga said nothing.
"What do you think?"
"They're not wrong."
Shixiao was taken aback, then laughed.
"Interesting."
He took another drink.
"Madman, fool, traitor—whatever. I'll just ask you one thing. Do you even believe what you're saying?"
"Yes."
Shixiao looked at him. Something stirred in those eyes. He put away the wine jug and patted Nobunaga's shoulder.
"That's enough then."
He left.