Starting Over

Takuma shut himself in his room for three whole days, thinking about what to do next.

On the fourth day, the door was kicked open.

The latch flew off and slammed into the wall with a loud crash, scattering wood chips across the floor. Tenten stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway. The two buns on either side of her head swayed. She wore a short jacket that let her move freely. She wasn't carrying a scroll of ninja tools, but the look on her face was fiercer than if she'd just thrown an Explosive Tag.

"Mori Takuma."

Takuma poked half his head out from under the covers, squinting against the light. "Are you a demon or something...?"

"If you lie there any longer, I'll charge interest by the day on what you owe me for the ninja tools." Tenten walked in, kicked an empty cup out of her way, and stood by his bed, looking down at him. "Compound interest. Ever heard of it? Interest on interest. You'll never pay it off, not even in ten lifetimes."

Tenten yanked off the covers and tossed a bundle of clothes at his face.

"Get dressed. You're helping me count inventory."

The backyard of the ninja tool shop was piled high with goods. Wooden crates, paper packages tied with straw rope, sealed jars marked with sealing formulas—all stacked together in a disorderly heap.

"Here's the list." Tenten shoved a sheet of paper into Takuma's hand. "Move one item, check off one item. Don't get the order wrong."

They finished the count in the afternoon. Boss Li was inside the shop, counting shuriken one by one. When Takuma and Tenten came in, he glanced at Takuma and said in an even tone,

"Kid, I heard you were the only one who made it back alive."

Takuma's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. "...Yeah."

Boss Li didn't say "my condolences," or "you were lucky." He pulled a kunai from beneath the counter and set it on top. It wasn't like a standard-issue one: the blade was a deep blue-green, its tempering pattern fine and even, and dark brown leather was wrapped around the handle.

"This kunai's been tempered. It's thirty percent sharper than an ordinary one." Boss Li's voice was as even as when he'd been counting shuriken. "When you're on a mission alone, you can't afford to have lousy equipment."

Takuma looked at the kunai. Its deep blue-green blade gleamed coldly under the shop's warm yellow lights. The leather around the handle was wrapped firmly and evenly. It was clearly a piece of painstaking handwork.

"...Thanks." Takuma reached out and took the kunai. It was lighter than it looked, perfectly balanced, and a light press of the blade against his thumb drew a bead of blood. No ordinary weapon.

"You don't have to pay." Boss Li turned back to counting shuriken. "Just use it to kill your enemies when you need it."

Just then, a ding rang in Takuma's head, and the system notification sounded out of nowhere.

[Event detected: Witness "The Warmth of the Ninja Tool Shop"]

[Witness complete. One lottery draw awarded.]

Takuma's mouth twitched slightly. That counted as witnessing something? He'd been getting ninja tools from Tenten's family's shop for years, and this was the first time the system had triggered. Was it because the element of "warmth" hadn't been there before? Or was the system's criteria just completely random?

He straightened up and quietly shifted half a step to the side, pretending to organize his ninja tool pouch as he turned toward a corner where no one could see him.

[Lottery draw starting--]

[Lottery result: One poster of The Shawshank Redemption (with one roll of tape included)]

Something in his arms grew slightly heavier. Takuma glanced down—a cardboard tube and a bundle of clear tape.

Takuma expressionlessly shoved the cardboard tube deeper into his ninja tool pouch. The system's definition of a "reward" clearly didn't match a normal person's.

"What are you doing?" Tenten poked her head out from behind the counter and saw him fiddling with his ninja tool pouch alone in the corner. "Why are you being so sneaky?"

"Organizing my gear." Takuma zipped up his pouch without so much as a change in expression, then turned around. "I need to keep your dad's kunai safe. I can't mix it in with my ordinary kunai."

Tenten gave him a suspicious look but didn't press him. She'd known Takuma for so long that she could tell which of his words were nonsense and which were true—this one was "partly true," meaning he didn't want to talk about it.

"Fine." Tenten came around from behind the counter, carrying a stack of boxes of Explosive Tags with labels already attached. "Help me stack these. There are another twenty boxes in the storeroom out back that we haven't counted."

The work was so tedious it made his mind go blank. But Takuma found that this kind of repetitive labor had a strangely healing effect. When his hands were busy, he didn't have time to think about all the mess in his head.

"Hey." Tenten's voice came from across the boxes. He couldn't see her, only her shadow on the wall. "I want to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Those two—Yamada and Sato." Tenten paused, and the rasp of her box cutter stopped for a moment. "Were you there when they died?"

Takuma's hand stopped. The blade was lodged in the crate lid, trembling slightly. Two seconds later, he pulled it free and went back to sealing the box. "...I was."

"Then did you make it back because they died?"

The air fell silent for a few seconds. Takuma finished sticking on the label and smoothed down the edges before replying. "No. They died, and I survived on my own. It works the other way, too—if I'd died, they wouldn't have thought it was because of them."

"Then that's that." Tenten kept sealing boxes, her tone as casual as if she were discussing what to eat for dinner. "You didn't owe them your life, and they didn't owe you theirs. What you owe them is to remember them."

"The Third said that, too."

"The Third was right."

Takuma finished counting the last box, straightened up, and rolled his stiff neck.

Tenten came around the boxes, a small patch of dust on her face and the last few boxes of Explosive Tags in her arms.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Chunin Ninja Exams." Tenten leaned against the stack of wooden crates, her arms crossed. "You're the only one left on your team. The rules say that a three-person team is required to take the official exams."

He'd already heard about this in the Hokage's office—the team roster for Team 12 existed in name only. Once Namiashi Raidō recovered, he would most likely be assigned to another combat unit, while Mori Takuma would continue taking D-rank missions as a one-man team until suitable replacements could be found.

"I don't have any teammates for now." He tried to keep his tone even. "The Third said he'd keep an eye out for suitable Genin, but until then, I can only take missions alone."

"Take missions alone." Tenten repeated it without sympathy, merely confirming a fact. "Catching cats, pulling weeds, picking up trash—all alone."

"What if you run into danger?"

"Run." Takuma answered without hesitation. "I'm tough. If I run into someone I can't beat, I'll run. If I can't get away, I'll use Explosive Tags to buy time, then run."

Tenten was silent for a moment, then nodded as if she approved of his answer. "Do you have enough Explosive Tags?"

"I've still got some left from the last time you gave me..."

"I'm not asking how many you have left." Tenten cut him off, took a new Sealing Scroll from her ninja tool pouch, and pressed it into his hand. "I'm asking if you have enough. If not, say so. I'll give you a discount."

"Thirty percent off." Tenten turned her head away. "Since you're all on your own."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Interest still applies."

Takuma laughed. He tucked the scroll into his ninja tool pouch beside the kunai. The pouch bulged with gear, hanging heavy at his waist with a reassuring weight.