After two months of low-level missions, Nawaki felt as if he had become Konoha's personal cleaner.
He slumped listlessly over the mission assignment counter, tapping lazily on its surface, his entire demeanor radiating the weary resignation of someone worn down by a tedious routine.
"Maki, tell me honestly. Have we been blacklisted in the Anbu files?"
"Cleaning river channels, finding villagers' cats, clearing rats out of granaries, weeding vegetable patches-I could put up with those. But yesterday was even worse. Our mission was to help an old lady move her pickle crocks!"
Nawaki buried his face in the crook of his arm, his muffled voice brimming with resentment.
"Pickle crocks! I'm Senju Nawaki, with top-class Monster Strength, and I spent an entire morning moving crocks.
"You have no idea how heavy they were. Heavier than the training posts at the Training Ground!"
"Two months ago, I genuinely thought low-level missions had their own value. Now I just want to ask the Third Hokage one thing.
"Back when you became Hokage, did you spend every day moving pickle crocks for old ladies too?"
"It's all about serving the villagers."
A gentle voice suddenly rang out.
Minato Namikaze had just walked through the door, holding the mission slip he had just submitted, his usual warm, guileless smile on his face.
"I helped the bathhouse owner unclog a drain last week. She even gave me a bag of oranges afterward."
Nawaki jerked his head up and stared at him with a conflicted expression.
"How can you still be so happy about something like that?"
"Because there's plenty of information hidden in those little chores."
Minato casually folded the mission slip and tucked it into his ninja tool pouch, his tone easy and natural.
"While unclogging the drain, I chatted with a few villagers