Regaining Composure

Takuma locked himself in his room for three full days, contemplating how to proceed with the path ahead.

On the fourth day, the door was kicked open.

The bolt flew off, slamming against the wall with a loud crash as wood splinters scattered across the floor. Tenten stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from the hallway, her two buns swaying on either side of her head. She wore a short jacket designed for mobility and carried no ninja tool scrolls, but the expression on her face was fiercer than when she threw explosive tags.

"Mori Takuma."

Takuma poked half his head out from under the quilt, his eyes squinting against the light. "Are you a demon..."

"If you keep lying there, the money you owe me for ninja tools will start accruing daily interest." Tenten walked in, kicked an empty water cup on the floor aside, and stood by his bed, looking down at him. "Compound interest. Ever heard of it? Interest on interest, piling up until you couldn't pay it back in ten lifetimes."

Tenten ripped the quilt away and threw a bundle of clothes into his face.

"Put these on. Come help me take inventory."

The backyard of the ninja tool shop was piled high with goods. Wooden crates, paper bundles tied with straw rope, and sealed jars marked with sealing talismans were stacked in a chaotic heap.

"The list." Tenten shoved a piece of paper at Takuma. "Move one, check one. Don't mess up the order."

It was already afternoon by the time they finished counting. Boss Li was in the shop, counting shuriken one by one. He glanced at Takuma when he and Tenten walked in, his tone flat as he spoke.

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

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

Boss Li didn't say "my condolences," nor did he say "you were lucky." He fished a kunai from under the counter and placed it on the surface. This kunai was different from the standard issue; the blade was a dark, greenish-blue, the quenching patterns were fine and uniform, and the grip was wrapped in dark brown leather cord.

"This kunai has been tempered; it's thirty percent sharper than the standard ones." Boss Li's tone was as flat as when he was counting shuriken. "When you're on a mission alone, your equipment can't be subpar."

Takuma looked at the kunai. The dark blue blade gleamed coldly in the shop's warm yellow light, and the leather cord on the grip was wrapped tightly and evenly—it was clearly the work of a master craftsman.

"...Thank you." Takuma reached out and gripped the kunai. It was lighter than it looked, the balance point was perfect, and the blade drew a bead of blood with the slightest pressure against his thumb. It was no ordinary piece.

"Don't bother paying." Boss Li turned away to continue counting shuriken. "Just use it to kill the enemy when the time comes."

Just then, a chime echoed in his mind, and the system notification sounded abruptly.

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

[Witnessing complete, obtained one lottery draw.]

The corner of Takuma's mouth twitched slightly. This counted as witnessing? He had been mooching off Tenten's family shop for years; this was the first time he had triggered the system. Was it because the "warmth" element was missing before? Or was the system's logic just randomly glitching?

He straightened his back and moved half a step to the side, pretending to organize his ninja tool pouch, turning his face toward a corner where no one could see him.

[Starting lottery--]

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

His arms felt slightly heavy. Takuma looked down—a cardboard tube and a roll of clear tape.

Takuma expressionlessly shoved the cardboard tube deep into his ninja tool pouch. The system's definition of "reward" was clearly different from a normal person's understanding.

"What are you doing?" Tenten poked her head out from behind the counter, seeing him standing in the corner fiddling with his pouch. "Being all sneaky."

"Organizing my gear." Takuma zipped up the pouch without changing his expression and turned around. "I have to keep the kunai your dad gave me safe; I can't mix it in with the regular ones."

Tenten looked at him suspiciously but didn't press the issue. She had known Takuma for too long—long enough to distinguish between his nonsense and the truth. This statement fell into the "partially true" category, which meant it was something he didn't want to talk about.

"Fine." Tenten walked out from behind the counter, carrying a stack of labeled explosive tag boxes. "Help me stack these. There are twenty more crates in the back warehouse to inventory."

The process was so monotonous it made his mind go blank. But Takuma found that this repetitive labor had a strange, healing effect. With his hands busy, he had no time to think about all that other messy stuff.

"Hey." Tenten's voice came from across the crates. He couldn't see her face, only her shadow cast on the wall. "Let me ask you a question."

"Ask."

"Those two—Yamada and Sato." Tenten paused, and the shhh of the packing tape dispenser stopped for a moment. "When they died, were you there?"

Takuma's hand stopped. The blade of the tape dispenser dug into the wooden crate lid, trembling slightly. After two seconds, he pulled the blade out and continued sealing the box. "...Yes."

"So, you're alive because they died?"

The air was silent for a few seconds. Takuma finished applying the label and pressed down the edges before speaking: "No. They died, and I survived on my own. The reverse is also true—if I had died, they wouldn't have felt it was because of themselves."

"Then that's that." The sound of packing tape from Tenten's side didn't stop, her tone as flat as if she were discussing what to have for dinner. "You don't owe them a life, and they don't owe you one. What you owe is to remember them."

"The Third Hokage said the same thing."

"The Third Hokage is right."

Takuma finished counting the last crate, straightened his back, and stretched his stiff neck.

Tenten came around from behind the crates, a smudge of dust on her face, carrying the last few boxes of explosive tags.

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean, what am I going to do?"

"The Chunin Exams." Tenten leaned against the stacked crates, arms crossed. "Your squad is down to just you. According to the rules, you need a three-man squad to participate in the official exams."

He had already heard this from the Third Hokage in the Hokage's office—Team 12 was effectively defunct. Aoba Yamashiro would likely be reassigned to another combat unit once he recovered, and he, Mori Takuma, would continue to perform D-rank missions as a solo squad until a suitable replacement was found.

"No teammates for now," he said, keeping his tone as flat as possible. "The Third Hokage said he would keep an eye out for suitable genin, but until then, I have to do missions alone."

"Doing missions alone." Tenten repeated it, her voice devoid of pity, merely confirming a fact. "Catching cats, weeding, picking up trash—all by yourself."

"What will you do if you run into danger?"

"Run." Takuma replied without hesitation. "I'm tough to kill. If I run into something I can't beat, I run. If I can't get away, I'll use explosive tags to buy time, and then I'll run again."

Tenten was silent for a moment, then nodded, as if she approved of the answer. "Do you have enough explosive tags?"

"The ones you gave me last time are still..."

"I didn't ask how many you have left." Tenten interrupted, pulling a new sealing scroll from her ninja tool pouch and shoving it into his hand. "I asked if it was enough. If it's not, say so, and I'll give you a discount."

"Thirty percent off." Tenten looked away. "Consider it because you're all on your own."

"Well, thanks for that."

"You're welcome. Interest still applies."

Takuma chuckled. He tucked the scroll into his ninja tool pouch, placing it next to the kunai. The pouch was bulging and heavy at his waist, providing a sense of solid, grounding weight.