Dango: Old Scars and New Beginnings

Dango: Old Scars and New Beginnings

After visiting Itachi, Shuji's next stop was Anko Mitarashi. She lived in the Ninja Apartment in the center of the village, cheap housing provided by the village for its ninja. One room, one kitchen, one bathroom—just right for one person.

Anko had no parents. Or rather, after years of war, aside from ninja born into ninja clans, many of this generation's ninja had lost both parents and been sent to the village Orphanage. Once they reached the age to attend the Ninja Academy, they left the Orphanage and lived in apartments provided by the village. During their years at the Ninja Academy, the village charged no rent. Every month, someone from the Administrative Department came by with living expenses and checked on how they were doing.

For the past three years, the Ninja Apartment had been packed to capacity.

Knock! Knock!

The knocking echoed through the somewhat empty corridor. After quite a while, dragging footsteps came from behind the door, along with a slurred voice thick with sleepiness.

"...Coming... Who is it...?"

The door opened a crack. The girl behind it looked completely different from the lively-eyed figure in her mission file photograph. Fourteen-year-old Anko Mitarashi was now somewhat gaunt. Her distinctive purple hair stuck out in a messy tangle, and she wore a loose black mesh short-sleeved shirt with faded athletic shorts. The moment the door opened, a sour, stale smell hit him—rotting sweets, uncleared trash, and the stuffy air of a room kept sealed for too long.

She squinted as she adjusted to the corridor light and looked at the person outside. That handsome face seemed familiar, especially those slightly distant eyes and brows, which instantly brought back memories of the Ninja Academy.

"Shu... Shuji?" Anko called his name uncertainly. Her brows furrowed, her confusion obvious. "You... need something?" The top student she remembered had always worn a cold expression, as though carrying some heavy mission on his shoulders. He seemed noticeably different from the calm-eyed, peaceful person before her now.

"The village should have sent you a notice," Shuji said evenly as he looked at his former classmate, who seemed to have had all her spirit drained away. "You've been assigned to my squad."

Anko scratched her messy hair, trying hard to remember. Her eyes still held the dazed look of someone who had only just emerged from a long investigation. "Ah... I think there was something like that." She stepped aside from the doorway with listless casualness. "Come in. But... don't expect much. It's... like this inside." She seemed too tired even to pretend otherwise.

Shuji nodded and stepped into the entryway. His gaze swept quickly over the small space. There was no trace of a "girl's room" here. Several empty instant noodle bowls lay scattered across the tatami mats. Beside them were half-eaten dango that had dried up and gone hard, while a few snack bags had been tossed carelessly into the corners. Several empty cans of soda lay tipped over beside the low table. It was not filthy enough to be called a dump, but it was obvious that the owner had not seriously cleaned up in a long time. The air was thick with a dispirited sense of abandonment.

Shuji's gaze fell on the broom leaning in the corner. Without saying anything, he walked over, rolled up his sleeves, picked up the broom and dustpan, and quietly began sweeping up the trash. His movements were practiced and natural, as though this were no more than an ordinary household chore.

Anko froze at his sudden action. Then she saw him about to sweep away the half-skewer of dango and hurriedly shouted, "Hey! Don't touch that! I... I haven't finished eating it yet! Hey! No matter what, isn't that way too rude?!"

"Go boil some water." Shuji did not even look up. His tone was flat, but carried an unquestionable matter-of-factness. "When a guest comes over, a cup of hot water is basic courtesy. Do you have tea leaves? Plain hot water is fine if you don't." With a casual motion, he tossed several empty drink cans precisely into the trash basket in the corner.

"You..." Anko choked on her words. Watching him begin tidying her room with such utter naturalness, she felt an intense sense of unreality. How could Shuji, the top student she remembered—always standing straight-backed with sharp eyes—be cleaning a room like some househusband? And acting so... naturally? She opened her mouth, but in the end said nothing. Resigned, she muttered, "Got it, got it..." and turned toward the kitchen to boil water.

The sound of a kettle being placed on the stove came from the kitchen. Shuji worked quickly. Before long, he had cleared away all the trash on the floor and gathered the scattered bowls and plates together. He walked to the window, pulled open the tightly shut curtains with a swish, then pushed open the window and let in a breeze carrying the scent of sunlight, driving away the room's stagnant air. Sunlight instantly flooded half the room.

By the time Anko emerged carrying two steaming cups, the room looked far fresher, and the air had become much clearer. She placed one cup of water on the low table in front of Shuji, then held the other in her hands and sat cross-legged across from him. Looking at the renewed little space, her expression was complicated. She felt awkward about being cared for, yet utterly lost at the enormous change in the person before her.

"Here." Shuji placed a paper bag on the table and pushed it toward Anko. The bag was open, revealing several skewers of translucent Three-Color Dango coated in fresh sugar glaze, giving off an enticing sweet fragrance.

Anko's eyes instantly lit up like a candle being kindled, only to dim again a moment later. She looked at Shuji with wariness and mixed emotions. "...What's this? Trying to buy me off? You're... really different from before." She could not help voicing the question in her heart.

"I bought them on the way." Shuji picked up a skewer of dango and took a bite without concern. A satisfied look appeared on his face as he savored it. "Mm. Soft, chewy, and sweet. Want some? They're much better than those dried-out, hardened ones of yours." His tone was easy and natural, as though he were merely sharing an ordinary recommendation.

Anko watched Shuji openly enjoy the dango, then looked at the tempting skewers. Her stomach let out an uncooperative growl. She hesitated for several seconds, but in the end, she could not resist either the temptation of sweets or her curiosity about this unusual version of him. She reached out, took a skewer, and cautiously bit off a small piece.

The warm, springy rice dumpling melted in her mouth beneath its lightly sweet sugar glaze. The wonderful taste, one she had not experienced in so long, made her narrow her eyes as she let out a contented sigh.

"...They do taste good," Anko mumbled, eating her dango while stealing glances at Shuji.

The young man calmly eating dango before her, with a little dust still clinging to him from cleaning the room, felt both unfamiliar and strange.

"You've been living off this stuff?" Shuji gestured with his chin toward the instant noodle bowls and snack bags on the floor. There was no accusation in his voice, more a simple confirmation of her current state of life.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Anko chewed her dango, her voice slightly muffled and carrying the air of someone who had given up caring. "There aren't any missions worth doing. Eating out is expensive, and I can't be bothered to go outside..." What she did not say was that she did not want to face those looks outside—pitying, probing, or wary.

"The border conflict has temporarily eased, and there are plenty of backlogged trade route missions." Shuji swallowed his food. "Clearing out rogue ninja, escorting merchant caravans, border patrols... There are C-rank and D-rank missions. The village didn't assign you any?"

Anko's movements paused. Her eyes flickered as she lowered her head and stared at the glossy bamboo skewer in her hand. "They did. But all they gave me were things like finding pets and weeding flower beds. I didn't want to take them."

Her voice lowered. "...They're boring."

"Are they boring, or do you just... not have the motivation?" Shuji's gaze fell on the hand gripping the skewer tightly enough for her knuckles to turn faintly white. His tone remained calm.

Anko abruptly raised her head. A flash of anger at being seen through crossed her eyes, but beneath it lay even deeper exhaustion and confusion. "What difference does it make whether I have motivation or not? Anyway... it's all the same."

She turned her face away and looked at the sunlight pouring in through the window. "Back when I was following... him, it felt like I had a goal. Get stronger, learn stronger jutsu. But now..." She tugged at the corner of her mouth in self-mockery, revealing a bitter smile. "It feels like someone pulled out all my bones. I can't bring myself to care about anything. Orochimaru... Sensei... why..." She forcibly swallowed the rest of her words, turning them into a heavy breath filled with intense hatred and unwillingness.

Shuji listened quietly without interrupting, nor did he try to comfort or enlighten her.

He merely picked up another skewer of dango and ate it slowly, as if giving her time to sort through her emotions. The room held only Anko's slightly ragged breathing and the occasional birdsong from outside.

His refusal to rush into a response, his simple willingness to listen quietly, somehow made Anko feel less pressured.

"Anger and hatred are normal." Only after Anko's emotions had settled somewhat did Shuji slowly speak. His tone was as calm as if discussing the weather. "But life still has to go on. Locking yourself in here to rot, filling your stomach with instant noodles and day-old dango—what does that get you besides making yourself worse?"

He set down the empty bamboo skewer and looked directly at Anko, his words blunt. "The missions the village assigned before may have been boring, but the pay is enough to buy fresh, hot meals and whatever dango you want. At least when you're on a mission, your mind won't have time to think about other things, and your body can still move. It's better than wasting yourself away in here."

Anko stared blankly at him. If anyone else had said those things, she might have thought they were talking without understanding her pain. But hearing them from Shuji—the Shuji who had become practical, even a little "ordinary," who had just cleaned her room and brought fresh dango—gave them a strange kind of persuasive power.

There was no fake sympathy, no lofty lecture. Just the simple truth that life had to go on.

"You really have changed a lot," Anko said with a curl of her lips. Her tone was complicated, but the dead stillness in her eyes seemed to loosen slightly. She looked down at the half-eaten dango in her hand. The fresh sugar glaze glimmered enticingly in the sunlight. Yeah, fresh dango really did taste much better than dried-out ones.

She suddenly stuffed the rest of the dango into her mouth and chewed hard, as if trying to chew up and swallow some emotion along with it.

"But you're right." She swallowed, wiped the sugar glaze from the corner of her mouth, and looked up. There was still exhaustion and pain in her eyes, but now there was also a faint spark that had been forcibly reignited. "I have to get moving. Rotting away in here really is pointless." She looked at Shuji with a trace of scrutiny, along with the relief of someone who had accepted her situation. "Captain, when's the next mission? C-rank or B-rank?"

Shuji looked at Anko, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly. "I won't let you sit around. We'll wait for notification on the specific mission. These next few days..." He stood and looked around the room, which still seemed empty and shabby despite his cleaning. "Clean this place up properly. At the very least, the next time I come here..." He pointed to the bright, spotless window and clean floor. "I hope it stays like this. And have hot tea ready."

"Hey! You sure have a lot of demands! Fine, I get it!" Anko yelled in annoyance. Yet as she watched Shuji's back heading toward the door, there was strangely little real resistance in her complaining voice. Just as Shuji pulled open the door to leave, she suddenly called out to him. "Hey, Shuji!"

Shuji turned back.

"...Thanks." Anko's voice lowered. She looked away, paused, then added, "...For the dango and the cleaning."

Shuji nodded without saying anything else, then closed the door behind him.

The moment the door shut, Anko sat alone in the room, which had suddenly become quiet. The sweet scent of fresh dango and sunlight seemed to linger in the air. She lowered her head to look at her empty hands, then raised her eyes to sweep over the clean, tidy room and the open window. Sunlight streamed in without obstruction, casting bright, warm patches across the floor. She took a deep breath of the fresh air blowing in from outside, fragrant with grass and leaves, then slowly let it out in a long exhale, as though releasing all the stagnant air that had built up inside her for so long.

She stood, walked to the corner, and picked up the broom Shuji had used earlier. This time, she gripped it tightly and began cleaning up the trash Shuji had gathered to one side.