Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.6 [29]
🕑 Added 2024-06-28 14:49:25 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.6 [29]
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Today’s training was pretty light on account of our mission. It was meant to keep up routine and nothing more. We didn’t have to report back in the afternoon—Asuma told us to get our affairs in order, like preparing camping equipment, buying mission-specific clothes… and writing wills. They made us practise writing wills in the Academy, but it was different back then.
No one was actually at any real risk of death at school.
Writing a will was standard procedure when going on an out-of-village mission, no matter what rank. Who knew what might happen after leaving the walls of the village? The world was a dangerous place and even though we weren’t leaving the country, any number of tragedies could be lying in wait between the Leaf Village and Tenka Village.
And while I was writing my will, I was confronted with the fact that I didn’t have much to leave behind or many people to leave my possessions to. All my savings would go to Ayame and Teuchi—which at this point was no more than 60,000 ryo after years of saving—and my house, alongside anything inside besides a diary written in English, would go to whichever orphan needed it.
The experience at least helped get my head on straight. My attitude to death was anything but cavalier. There was nothing quite like the feeling of your life slipping away, but then again, it wasn’t exactly common to die by stabbing back on Earth.
However, it was just Tuesday here and an occupational hazard in my line of work.
My job was to avoid that hazard as best as I could, which meant making sure my knives were as sharp as possible to avoid an encore of my first death. Since money wasn’t a concern, I’d had the bright idea to have a separate stash of weapons for missions, which I used for training—plus, my equipment was already pretty worn after years of use.
So, that afternoon, I ventured to the village's western side under my disguise as Totsugi. I’d struck up something of a rapport with the blacksmith under that disguise ever since I revealed Asuma had recommended I shop there for my “son”. Just the assurance that I—who had come under a jonin’s recommendation—would recommend the smithy to others was enough to get a further reduction when buying things in bulk.
And buying things in bulk was exactly what I was there to do.
I greeted the front-of-house worker and the owner’s apprentice. “Heya, Miss Kuwahara.”
“Lay off with the formality, goddamn it,” she grunted with a roll of her eyes. “At this point, you’re as good as family.”
“Will calling you by your first name get me a discount?”
She snorted and adjusted her apron, the movement sending ripples across her impressively muscled arms. “Nope, you’re already buying things discounted as is, but it might get you something nice if I like how you say it.”
“Goddamn it, Hotaru!” Seto came grumbling from the open-doored forge, and his thick grey beard shuddered with every word. “Stop flirtin’ with anything that moves and get to work—and hello, kid. You look well.”
“Thanks, Mr Seto. My son’s been sending me on errands all week, but I’ve been alright besides that.”
“Believe me, I know how that feels.” He shook his head and sent his daughter a look. “She turns twenty-one this year, and I’m still going about this damned village buying things for her. At my age? She’s got no shame, I tell you. If she wasn’t a half-decent smith…”
Hotaru skipped back out of her father’s path with a cheeky grin; their dynamic was strange but amusing. Seto Kuwahara was a strange old man who didn’t seem to care much about anything besides smithing and his daughter. The story goes that he found her on his doorstep one night with no explanation.
He was going to take her to one of the nearby orphanages but somewhere along the line, he had a change of heart and decided to raise her instead. The local community disapproved of someone like him raising a girl, but he did it anyway, and she came out perfectly fine and turned out to have a knack for metalworking.
Even if she was a notorious flirt.
It also helped to have someone easy on the eyes as your front-of-house staff rather than a crotchety, old man. The only reason he’d eased up on me was because of Asuma and my being a repeat customer.
Even then, getting under his titanium exterior was difficult enough.
“You here for your son again?” Seto asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with a worn rag.
“He goes on his first C-rank tomorrow. I thought it’d be smart to have a separate set of weapons for his missions and training, so I came to you.”
“Roger that. You’ll be wanting the full set of shuriken and kunai?” At my nod, he relayed the order to Hotaru louder than needed, considering she was less than four metres away. “Know what, I’ll throw in a complementary set of senbon for the occasion—free of charge.”
I eyed him across the counter. “That’s out of character.”
“Oi.” He looked away but couldn’t hide the slight flush on his face.
“You can’t blame me,” the grin slipped on my face without thinking, “I’m just saying, all my other attempts at weaselling a little extra out of you were met with a resounding, “Screw off, kid.”
“Had to make a decent number of senbon for an order, but I hadn’t made ‘em for a while, so I decided to make more than needed to get back into shape.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “They should be arriving today to collect it.”
Right on cue, the smithy’s old door creaked open.
“Totsugi?”
I mirrored the look of surprise on the entrant’s face.
“Rukia?”
“Uh…” I floundered for a few seconds but managed to collect myself before she did. “How’s your father’s farm doing? Last time you were here, you said he’d managed to expand, right?”
She smiled. “That’s right.”
“That’s good. What brings you to the Leaf this time?”
“I’m here for more tools. We’ve managed to hire some extra hands, which means more equipment—one moment.” Rukia approached the counter. “I’m here to collect Order No. 356, sir.”
Seto backtracked into the smithy but stopped mid-step. “Hotaru!”
“What?” she yelled back.
“I’m handing the kid over to you.”
He vanished into the smithy, and I left Rukia at the counter to walk across the room.
Hotaru smirked. “I ain’t complaining.”
“Right.” I chuckled. “The order was one set of kunai and shuriken plus a free set of senbon. I didn’t get a discount, but an extra set of weapons for my kid is just as good.”
“That’ll be 25,000 ryo.” She boxed the weapons up for me and placed them into a bag. “Come back again sometime, by the way. I haven’t seen you around for months.”
“By your tone of voice, a guy might think you’ve missed him.”
“Maybe I have,” she said with a wink
I grinned and swiped the bag. “Not making any promises, but I’ll try.”
Rukia watched the exchange between us and fired off a question the minute I reached her. “Are you and her…”
“A thing?” I snorted. “No. She likes to flirt is all.”
She accepted my reply with a thoughtful nod and Seto returned with various tools bundled into his arms and a case placed perilously on top. I helped by plucking it off the uneven metal mountain and putting it on the counter. Rukia slid a weathered bundle of notes across the table and shrugged off the open straw backpack slung across her shoulders.
She placed the farming tools inside and Seto opened the case, revealing a set of senbon.
“It’s for treating my father,” she said when she caught me staring. “I do acupuncture for my village to make some extra money. I’m not exactly qualified, but I study under the village’s doctor when I can spare the time.”
I accepted her reason with a quiet nod.
She placed the case into a plastic bag and bowed slightly to Seto and then Hotaru.
“Thank you very much.”
“No, young miss, thank you for buying my wares,” the old man grunted.
Her gaze travelled around the room and returned to me, obvious regret twisting her smile. “I’d love to catch up, Totsugi, but I’m travelling back with a merchant caravan that will pass through my village and they’ll be leaving soon.”
I waved off her concern. “Don’t worry about it, Rukia. Go catch that caravan.”
She shot me a grateful smile and ran out of the shop as fast as her burden would allow. I left at a slower pace, enjoying the late afternoon breeze as I eyed the stalls. Eventually, I went home and dropped off the stuff before changing clothes and heading to Ramen Ichiraku.
I hadn’t broken the news to Ayame and Teuchi yet.
Seeing that it was later on in the afternoon, the shop wasn’t so busy—in fact, it was empty, so it made sense why Ayame was taking the opportunity to wipe down the countertop.
“Ayame!”
Ayame looked up and a radiant grin exploded across her face. She dropped the rag on the countertop and emerged around the building. “Look who’s finally decided to show his face around here. Your last shift was a few days ago, you know, but no one said you couldn’t stop by.”
“I know, I know.” I relaxed into the hug. “But I’m not a kid anymore—I’m a shinobi now. I can’t spend the day as I’d like, and believe me, there’s nothing I’d love more than to spend time with the two of you.”
Her face softened at my words—but only until the gears started turning in her head. “The jury’s still out on the not-being-a-kid part.”
“I’ll have you know that I’m a legal adult.”
“Grow taller than five-foot-six, and I’ll believe it.”
“I’ll get there… eventually; I’m only five-one now.”
We entered the building through the back entrance and went upstairs to the living area, bickering all the way. I couldn’t help the pang in my chest as we walked down the familiar, creaky hallway. While my apartment was legally my home, Ichiraku felt more like home than anywhere else.
Teuchi was in the living room, flicking through a novel over half-moon glasses. The window was open all the way to allow some air in, and the portable fan was on full blast and placed in a corner of the room.
“Dad, look who’s here.”
“Hello, Naruto!” The cheer in his voice was more than obvious in the way he was grinning. “Give me a moment to finish this chapter. I’ll have your favourite whipped up before you can say your name.”
“Ramen would be nice, but we need to talk first.” Slipping off my shoes before the carpet, I took a seat on the couch. “I think you might want to sit down for this, Ayame.”
The two shared a glance and the fan in the room was especially loud for some reason. I let out an internal sigh as the awkwardness set in—I hadn’t even said anything yet!
“Uh… I’ve got an announcement to make.” I winced at my voice crack. Ayame and Teuchi—bless their souls—hid their smiles at the sound but didn’t tease me about it. “I’m going on a mission tomorrow.”
I paused to let the weight of that sink in.
Ayame gave me a blank stare. “So? You go on missions all the time.”
“That’s not what he means,” said Teuchi, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Naruto was over the moon when he told us about going on his first mission, even if it was a menial D-rank. You’re going on your first mission outside of the Leaf, aren’t you?”
I nodded grimly.
“This mission isn’t like the ones I’ve done so far. Not only is it outside the village, it’s a C-rank, which means there’s a high likelihood of combat.”
“Not against other shinobi, mind you,” I said, rushing to calm Ayame down with a lie—a lie of omission, but still a lie. “But because of the likelihood of combat, it means writing a will.”
A dark look crawled over Teuchi’s face, accompanied by Ayame’s gasp.
He was always a more perceptive man than most and knew me better than anyone; he was the one who saw me at my mental lowest and helped me through a lot in life. He was the closest thing to a father that I had in this second life, so I was afraid of hurting him by revealing that I’d included him in my will.
Not just him, but Ayame too, which was why I’d put off revealing the mission to the two of them for as long as possible.
“Naruto…” Ayame looked ready to either hug me or launch into a lecture—possibly both.
“I don’t want to die.”
The two of them sat straighter at my bluntness.
“That said, as a shinobi, I’ve got to account for all the possibilities. If I die without a will, everything I own will go back to the village, and the little money I’ve saved will end up in the village’s coffers. I don’t want that to happen when I’ve got people I care about more than the people who made my childhood hell.”
“But to write a will…” Ayame trailed off with a shudder. “...It’s ominous.”
“It’s standard procedure,” I said with a sad smile.
Teuchi sighed. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve included Ayame and I in your will?”
Ayame nearly stood up in shock. “Naruto!”
Instead of replying, I removed a folded piece of paper from my pocket. Clearing my throat, I made sure to keep my eyes on the paper, afraid of what I’d see on their faces if I looked up. “I, Naruto Uzumaki of the Hidden Leaf Village, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me or in my name.
“I appoint Asuma Sarutobi, jonin of the Hidden Leaf Village, to be the executor of this will. If Asuma Sarutobi is unable or unwilling to serve, I appoint Hiruzen Sarutobi, Third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village, as the alternate executor.”
Teuchi rubbed a wizened hand over his face, his face looking older than I’d ever seen. Ayame wiped the glistening film of tears from her eyes, spilling a few droplets down her face, but she set her jaw to hear out the rest of my will to its end. Something in my chest twinged at the sight—I didn’t plan on dying but this was one of those things that were necessary if the worst-case scenario played out.
Taking a deep breath, I firmed my resolve and continued reading.
“I leave my estate as follows: to Teuchi, employer and close friend, of the Hidden Leaf Village, I leave the sum of 30,000 ryo to be removed from my savings account. To Ayame, a close friend, of the Hidden Leaf Village, I leave the sum of 30,000 ryo to also be removed from my savings account. To the Leaf Village Welfare Association, I leave my apartment to be transferred to an eligible orphan at the earliest convenience.”
Pausing, I skipped over irrelevant bits such as guardianships or debts and expenses, taking in a fragile breath before starting up before either of them could interrupt. I spared a glance over the paper but neither of them seemed ready to move, let alone speak.
“I leave the residue of my estate to Ramen Ichiraku, my place of employment. In the case that Ramen Ichiraku as an establishment; its owner, Teuchi of the Hidden Leaf; or his daughter, Ayame of the Hidden Leaf; predecease me, the residue of my estate shall be distributed equally to the various orphanages of the Hidden Leaf Village.”
I returned the folded paper to my pocket with a dry mouth and a sense of emptiness as I sat down on the sofa. My eyes didn’t leave the carpeted floor—I could feel my will and its words hanging in the air with a heaviness that made it hard to do anything else.
Until Teuchi broke the silence.
“Okay,” he said standing up. “This is understandably… a lot, but I’m honoured—we are honoured—that you love us enough to leave us something in the event of your death.”
I smiled hollowly. “Mr Teuchi, I—”
“However,” his voice turned stern, “we will have no more talk of death. It’s an inevitability—even more so as a shinobi—but when death comes for us in its diabolical forms, most of the time, we fight like hell against it, shinobi or not, and I expect you to do the same.”
I gave him a salute, not quite managing a grin. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Now come here and hug me, you gloomy brat.”
I chuckled and did as asked, feeling a weight rest against my back. When the arms wrapped around me, I realised Ayame had laid her head across my back and enveloped Teuchi and I in a hug of her own. It was heartwarming for all of ten seconds until the functional strains of hugging a seated person while receiving one from someone else became apparent.
I tried to wriggle out without hurting Teuchi but gave up after Ayame made it clear she wasn’t letting go of me.
“Ayame,” said Teuchi warningly.
She let go immediately, freeing the older man from the both of us.
“Do you have any more solemn news to announce, or is that the worst of it?” asked Teuchi, now on his feet.
I shook my head. “That’s about the worst of it.”
He shook his head with a wry laugh and walked down the corridor.
With that kind of weight off my shoulders, I enjoyed the final afternoon before my first C-rank as well as I could. I hadn’t spent this much time with Teuchi and Ayame since I started in the Academy—it wasn’t on purpose, but with the numerous things on my plate, I’d found less time to spend with them outside of my shifts.
It bothered me so much that before I left, I promised to spend more time with them moving forward.
After such a sumptuous meal and a quick run to burn through some energy, I hoped to sleep restfully but that wasn’t the case. I spent the first couple of hours awake in bed, my mind too active to rest, so I went through my mission equipment twice over. It didn’t help anything as far as my restlessness went, but when I returned to my bed, it was cool again.
What felt like five minutes later, my alarm blared beside my head and I freed a fumbling hand from my covers and silenced it, getting to work. Breakfast was a sordid affair of leftover ramen from the afternoon at Teuchi and Ayame’s house. Usually, I’d have something more balanced but from the moment I opened my eyes, I had half an hour to get ready and assemble at the western gate.
I slipped my restocked holsters and packs into my ratty robes, tightened my wooden sandals, and—for the first time, left my training weights underneath behind. It was a relatively small thing, but it was like leaving a part of myself behind. I forged on, tightening my grip over the worn backpack slung across my back. To my surprise, Asuma was the first person there, leisurely smoking a cigarette on the stone steps of one of the nearby buildings.
He was wearing a simple, worn burgundy kimono and wooden sandals. The hair that was usually pushed up by his forehead protector fell over his forehead and I couldn’t see a single weapon on his person. No doubt they were concealed on his person, either inside his sleeves or in storage seals somewhere.
He gave me a nod in greeting, slowly going through his cigarette. I kept a reasonable distance from him on account of the spell and placed my backpack next to me, sitting on the staircase opposite his.
“I hate how uncomfortable these clothes are,” I said. “Look at how frayed the cuff of this thing is too.”
Asuma chuckled. “We need it for cover and you know Hinata has it worse than you.”
“I can’t believe her father’s letting her wear contact lenses.”
“For all their blowharding about pride, the Hyuuga are still a shinobi clan. It’d be stupid to flaunt their famed eyes when it’d get in the way of the mission.”
“You’ve got a point,” I said.
Hinata and Choji arrived not even a few minutes later, also dressed in shabby peasant clothes. Unlike me, they were carrying plastic bags, which they laid at Asuma’s feet. He unfurled a scroll just about the width of my backpack, laying it on the floor. It was marked all over with some kind of formula.
We stood around it and watched him stack the contents of the bags within the scroll’s boundaries. When he was sure everything was perfectly balanced, Asuma made a hand sign. A surge of smoke burst from the scroll and when it cleared, the equipment was gone. He rolled up the scroll and slid it into a protective case before placing it at the very bottom of my bag, ensuring it wouldn’t get damaged by my equipment.
“Thanks for agreeing to carry our stuff, Naruto,” said Choji for the first time today and the third time since we were given our mission.
I rolled my eyes. “Again, you’re welcome, but it makes strategic sense as well. It’s pretty uncommon for a group of peasants to be carrying a bag full of possessions each. They rarely have more than one since they… you know, don’t own much.”
“Just take my thanks,” said Choji with a sigh.
Hinata laughed. “I’m sorry, but with Naruto, that is impossible. You'd have better chances getting Asuma-sensei to quit smoking.”
Her usually ivory-coloured eyes were a startling brown—not because of their shade, but because the colour made Hinata look like an entirely different person. Choji’s markings could be shrugged off so he hadn’t bothered to hide them and, of course, none of us were wearing our forehead protectors.
I tuned out their teasing with a shake of my head and smothered a low yawn.
“Hey, I’m not even involved in this,” Asuma stamped out his cigarette and banished the smell with a chuckle, “but that’s fine. Let’s get a move on, kids. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. I want us to get halfway to Tenka Village by the end of this week without draining too much energy.”
I shared a nod with my teammates before we set off.
We stopped in front of a booth just before the western gates—they’d never looked so big before— and Asuma tapped his fingers against the glass, waking up the chunin inside. She composed herself quickly enough and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes to scan the clipboard on the desk.
She crossed us off the list.
“Team 10, you are cleared to leave.” Her gaze moved past Asuma and landed on the three of us, softening slightly—well, at least when it left me. “Good luck.”
Since all the village gates were unimaginably heavy, one was always open, but it was incredibly hard to leave the western exit despite that. Ignoring the chunin in the booth, two more stood guard outside it and over half a dozen more were patrolling the gate from above.
The only other gate with more defence was the merchant’s gate on the east—and for obvious reasons all to do with money.
We passed without any trouble and about fifteen minutes into our journey, I was suddenly hit with the realisation that I’d left the village for the first time. When I looked back, the village and its massive structures looked smaller than ever and only became smaller as we travelled further and further away.
I was expecting the day’s journey to be somewhat eventful—in the anime, there was always something happening before a mission ever started, whether that was random passers-by asking for help with something fairly innocuous or running into bandits. In reality, we spent hours alternating between tree-hopping and walking before.
We only started looking for somewhere to rest when the sun had started to set, dying the horizon. The landscape had changed to mostly flatland an hour ago, but luckily, we’d discovered a safe enough cave to camp out in. I pulled out the night’s dinner: instant ramen. It wasn’t the most nutritious thing to eat, but after a day of mindless travelling, no one was in the mood to cook anything.
Choji had thought of a question while we slurped over the various flavours of instant ramen I’d packed into my bag.
“What if the bandits have a sensor?” he asked. “What are we meant to do then? Hiding you or Naruto from them is impossible.”
“Hey, give me a little more credit than that. I didn’t become a jonin by winning the raffle,” said Asuma, flicking a spark into the dying campfire. We edged closer to take in more of its warmth. “But you’re right—Naruto will never be able to hide from a sensor, but that doesn’t mean we’re completely screwed. Goro Tanimoto, the Jagged Blades’ leader, was once a chunin from the Hidden Waterfall, but he’s no sensory ninja, which means it’s going to be one of the genin from the Hidden Grass.”
“So?” Choji stopped going through his second pot of ramen to speak. “Isn’t that still a problem?”
“Yes, but not as big as if Goro Tanimoto was the sensor because he’d be able to monitor the entire village fairly easily. Seeing that they’re bandits, I doubt they even have a sensor, but I’m not ruling out the possibility either. We’re going to book an inn as far away from their base of operations as possible and make sure Naruto doesn’t go beyond that side of the village.”
“That might work,” said Hinata, looking thoughtful. “Even if they do have a sensor, I doubt their range is that extensive.”
Asuma grinned and patted my shoulder. “Naruto and I will fake any potential sensors out by flaring our chakra. This little guy has more than triple my chakra reserves so it’ll be more than enough.”
His words drew a question out of me this time. I forced down the rest of my ramen in a rush and cleared my throat to grab his attention. “This whole deal with chakra reserves doesn’t make sense to me. In the Academy, we learned that you’ve got to mould the chakra required for jutsu, so how come people talk about chakra reserves as if they’re a resource to draw from?”
He scanned our faces carefully and set down his empty plastic pot between his crossed legs. “Do you guys want the simple answer or the long answer?”
Hinata smiled. “The long answer—it’ll blow their minds.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm—she always enjoyed chakra theory, which I supposed made sense when she could see not just chakra, but the entire chakra network. It didn’t surprise me that she was so gung-ho about everything chakra-related when her entire bloodlines centred around analysing it.
“Chakra reserves don’t exist—at least, not in the way that you think, Naruto.” He beckoned us closer, and we inched around the fire. “Since you guys want to get into chakra theory before bed, I’m making you all participate in my explanation. What’s chakra made up of?”
Choji’s hand shot up. “Physical and mental energy, sensei!”
He did a little salute with an accompanying laugh.
“Precisely.” Asuma returned his enthusiasm. “Now, physical energy can be improved by training your body and mental energy can be improved through life experience. That doesn’t mean everyone with high levels of physical and mental energy has trained super hard or is some wrinkly windbag on their deathbed.”
He waved his hand in my general direction.
“Take Naruto, for example. Some people just win the genetic lottery and have insane levels of physical energy. His unique situation also means that his chakra will continue to grow even after he leaves puberty thanks to the Nine-Tails. I say this because I want to make it clear that you two—Choji and Hinata—shouldn’t use him to measure your growth in terms of chakra.”
They nodded eagerly.
“Great,” he adjusted his sitting position slightly and leaned forward, “Now, you know that physical and mental energy are related to but aren’t dependent on the body—and that to create chakra you mix those two energies. It’s no wonder you get so tired after using jutsu—you’re spending the energies you use to function.”
I furrowed my brow at the implication of his words. In that case, “chakra reserves” was just a word for the potential maximum amount of chakra a person could mould—but that still left me with a few questions.
How were sensors able to determine that amount? Did they even know that maximum amount, or was it just guesswork?
Asuma once again broke my wandering mind by disturbing the momentary silence. “Here’s another question for you all: is all the chakra we use consciously moulded by us?”
“It’s not!” said Hinata, instinctively raising her hand. “The body passively moulds a little bit of chakra anyway just to live.”
“That’s right,” Asuma replied. “But remember, physical and mental energy can be increased through training and life experience—something do and have in spades. Do you know what that means?”
“...It means that shinobi have more passively moulded chakra than average.” My mouth fell open. “So, that’s how sensing chakra capacity works. In that case, how much passively moulded chakra do I have?”
“I’m glad you asked, Naruto,” said Asuma with a laugh. “We can find the answer to that question right now. Hinata, I want you to use your Byakugan and look at the three of us in turn. No need to look too close—you don’t need to glance at our tenketsu for this, just the general chakra flow.”
She set down her still-steaming pot of noodles and took a few steps back, levelling the Confrontation Seal a few inches in front of her face. I watched the individual veins around her eyes crawl outward like a series of writhing insects and when she opened her eyes, there was a piercing yet faraway gleam to them.
I held back my shudder at the intensity of her gaze.
“Anytime today, Hinata,” said Asuma.
She flinched like he’d snapped her out of a daydream. “O-Oh, sorry! Yes, you’re right, Asuma-sensei. Choji has the least amount of passively mixed chakra, you have a considerable amount more, and Naruto has roughly three-and-half to almost four times as much as you.”
“Woah…” Choji blinked slowly and turned to look at me. “That’s… that’s insane, Naruto.”
“Tell me about it,” I smiled wryly. “Just getting half-decent control over my chakra took me years and I’ve been doing chakra control training since I was seven. This seal is always skimming some chakra from that monster and adding it to my reserves, so I’ll never be able to stop training my chakra control.”
“I do not envy you there,” said Asuma.
Smiling, I just shrugged at his words—it was a small sacrifice to make in return for more chakra.
“I knew you had a lot of chakra when we were younger, but I chalked it down to talent,” said Hinata. “Knowing the reason behind it puts a lot of things into perspective.”
Her smile was bright enough for me to look away but I at least returned it before staring into the dwindling campfire.
“There ends my lecture on chakra theory for today!” Asuma clapped his hands. “Off to sleep you three.”
“And not you?” I murmured. “Bet you’re going out for a smoke.”
“Mhm,” Hinata and Choji said in unison.
“Look at that—it warms my heart that you three know me so well.” Asuma grinned and ruffled all of our heads in turn. “You’re right, but only partly—I’m also going to lay a few rabbit traps. You guys don’t want to have instant ramen for breakfast, do you?”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I yawned out.
Hinata made a noise in the back of her throat. “Speak for yourself!”
“All food’s good food,” said Choji, nodding to himself as if he’d said something profound. “I know that I’ll enjoy whichever you choose, but for the record, I’d like some protein, Asuma-sensei.”
“Well, you know how our team works, Naruto,” said Asuma, stepping around the fire. “Majority rule wins—rabbit stew it is.”
“You do that, but I’m tapping out here,” I said as I zipped up my sleeping bag. “We have a lot walking ahead of us tomorrow.”
I positioned my feet towards the campfire, wishing my friends goodnight before closing my eyes. Choji and Hinata crawled into their respective sleeping bags with a series of rustling and I heard the crunch of Asuma’s footstep as he left that cave.
Our first day of travelling was over and there would be many days like this to follow before we made it to Tenka Village. We spent the day time making good distance, chatting whenever just drinking in the sights became boring. At night, we took turns whipping up a creative dinner, making sure that no one ever did it consecutively.
That way, at least some of our day was unpredictable.
After a week and a half of nothing but tree-hopping, walking, and sleeping in caves and tents, we’d made it to Tenka Village a full three days earlier than I thought we would. The sun was almost underneath the horizon by the time we passed the shoddy wooden gate, but we’d arrived before nightfall.
I counted that as a success in my book because it meant sleeping in a proper bed for the first time in over a week.
The place didn’t quite match up to my expectations, but what did I know? The Hidden Leaf was a village only in name; it was practically a city. I trudged Asuma, peering at the locals passing this way and that, clad in patchwork yukatas and kimonos. I even saw a kid running around in what looked like a heavily adjusted… potato sack.
I gave him a second look and still couldn’t be sure that I saw that right. He raced off, giggling behind four other kids wearing clothes of a similar quality.
The inn we were looking for wasn’t exactly in a great part of town—we’d passed another called The Empty Plate that seemed to be the best thing out of the entire town. The three-storey pagoda-style inn towered over all the low buildings in the village except for what looked like a gathering hall in the distance—even the state of it was typical of what I’d seen of Tenka Village so far.
Unfortunately, Asuma made it clear that we weren’t signing in there thanks to my chakra reserves potentially tipping off the Jagged Blades. Seeing the state of the inn he’d decided on, I couldn’t help but lament what was otherwise a blessing for the first time in my life. Errant blades of straw littered the ground, probably from the bedding, and the receptionist was a beady-eyed man who didn’t bother to hide that he was drinking on the job.
“Excuse me,” said Asuma, spreading his arms over our shoulders. “I’d like a room for four—it doesn’t have to be amazing—just somewhere for my children and I to spend four nights.”
He looked over us dismissively. “20,000 ryo.”
Choji stiffened beside me and Asuma gave a wheezing laugh.
“Please,” he gestured to the state of our clothes and pushed us ahead of him so that man could get a good look at the dirt on our faces, “our journey has been long and we don’t have that kind of money.”
Surprisingly, I saw the gleam of pity behind the haze of drink in his eyes. “...The best I can do is 13,250 ryo for four nights. You’ve got to have that much if you’ve travelled as far as you look like you have.”
“Thank you,” I said with a smile while Hinata and Choji gave an elated laugh to sell our gratefulness.
We could have paid the amount in full, but peasant travellers having that kind of money and being willing to part with it without some haggling would’ve been suspicious, even with the innkeeper being slightly drunk.
“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, taking another swig from his weathered gourd. He looked at Asuma, the pity vanishing from his eyes. “One room, yeah? No complaints on quality?”
“No complaints,” Asuma replied.
“Top floor, it’s the room at the end.”
Swiping his gourd off the table, he led us up the stairs and opened the door—revealing our lodging for the rest of the mission. I decided at once the nights camping outside beat this hovel by a landslide. Calling it a bedroom would be an overstatement; there was only one bed and even that was a sorry thing of aged wood and just enough straw spread thin between two questionable blankets.
He closed the door behind us before we could say anything and I took the first step towards the monstrosity, patting it with a tentative touch. “Yeah, I’m not sleeping on that. Pretty sure I saw a cockroach crawling around back there. Any takers?”
And so began the staring contest between Asuma, Choji, and Hinata to see who’d subject themselves to the bed while I rummaged through my things to set up my sleeping bag.
“Right, pick a straw off the floor from anywhere in the room. Whoever gets the shortest one has to sleep on the bed,” I heard Asuma say.
After a series of creaky footsteps, I heard them reconvene near the door.
“...Great,” Hinata muttered. She sat at the very edge of the bedframe and sighed. “This is what I get for trying to be fair and not using my Byakugan.”
I chuckled and looked up from the floor. “Face it, you deserve that bed for trying to be a fair shinobi.”
She couldn't muster a reply over Asuma and Choji’s cheering and nodded glumly.
- - -
Comments
Eternal Yujin
It's not here? Huh, that's strange. Let me quickly see if I can put them here.
Hildisvini
Hi where is chapter 30 and 31?
Eternal Yujin
Yep—Naruto's childhood was incredibly sad. It isn't just going to be a one-and-done thing mentioned and shown in ARC-01. I'm going to tie it into Ino's character arc and the rest of this arc and even Naruto's Henge scenarios will come into play. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! ^^
Jordan Lam
I think one of my favorite bits of this story are the Henge scenarios; they've got a uniquely depressing depth lmao. It's the earnest interaction and time spent on him simply shopping that makes it all the more real. Love the world building man, keep it up.
