Toru Kujyo stepped into the shop, and the strong smell of chemicals mingled with the distinctive scent of film hit his nose. He looked around, his gaze finally settling on a retro-looking film camera in the display case.
"Shopkeeper, how much is this camera?" Toru Kujyo tapped the glass counter.
The old man startled awake, lifted his head, and squinted at him. When Toru Kujyo named the camera model and the accessories he needed, a flicker of surprise crossed the old man's eyes. He had not expected such a young Genin to know so much about old cameras.
"This camera's an old piece, and its accessories aren't easy to find. That'll be three hundred eighty-eight thousand three hundred ryo altogether," the old man said slowly.
Toru Kujyo did not haggle. He simply set a cloth bag full of money on the counter. "I'll take it."
The old man accepted the bag, his eyes filled with puzzlement. This kid didn't even bat an eye? After counting the money and confirming the amount, he handed Toru Kujyo the camera along with a pile of film rolls, developing chemicals, photographic paper, and other supplies.
Toru Kujyo took the camera. Though its metal body was cold, its weight seemed to carry warmth in his palm. He carefully stroked the smooth lens, an indescribable light shining in his eyes. This camera was for preserving memories. Hanabi's innocent, radiant smile rose in his mind. He would use it to record every moment of that little girl's growth, capturing those precious images that slipped away in an instant.
After buying the camera, however, his bag was empty, leaving him without a penny. Toru Kujyo felt his flattened money pouch and sighed helplessly. It looked like he would have to go hunting in the wilderness that night, or