Naruto: the spiral of inheritance

[abyssalmandate]

The road to Konoha was quieter than Kamui had imagined.

He had spent years seeing the village through a screen, where something always seemed to be happening. Shinobi leaped across rooftops on their way to missions, merchants argued with customers, children raced through the streets, and somebody was usually making a scene in the background. He had expected the noise to reach him long before the walls came into view.

Instead, a cart creaked along the road below the hill. A bird called from the trees and went silent. Only when the breeze shifted did the village make itself heard: a vendor calling out his prices, the faint clang of a hammer, voices too distant to distinguish.

Kamui stood on a low rise overlooking the Hidden Leaf and let out a long breath.

There it was. Konoha.

The Hokage Monument rose above the rooftops, its stone faces catching the afternoon sun. He could have drawn those faces from memory, yet the real thing was stranger than any picture. The cliffs were taller, the walls farther away, and the village spread across more ground than he had ever bothered to imagine.

He stayed there for a while, looking.

In all his daydreams about arriving in the Naruto world, he had somehow neglected the practical details. There was no dramatic entrance waiting for him, no mysterious guide stepping out of the trees, and certainly no convenient system appearing to explain how he was supposed to survive.

He had an old backpack, a staff strapped across his back, a few belongings, and enough money to eat for perhaps another day. The clothes on his back had seen better days, too. He tugged at a fraying backpack strap, inspected the stitching, and decided it would probably hold until evening.

Probably.

Back on Earth, Naruto had been more than a story he watched to pass the time. Whenever life became difficult, there had been something comforting about watching that loud blond idiot get knocked down, complain at the top of his lungs, and get right back up again.

And now that same boy was somewhere beyond those walls.

Not the hero Kamui remembered from the end of the story. Just a child who had no idea what waited for him, or why so many adults had decided it was easier to look away.

Kamui caught himself staring toward the rooftops and shook his head.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." He gave both cheeks a light slap. "You're not here to play hero."

The sting made him blink. A moment later, he realized he was talking aloud on an otherwise empty road.

"Great. First day here, and I'm already arguing with myself." He adjusted his pack. "They'll think I'm crazy before I even get through the gate."

That was assuming the guards let him through at all.

He took one last look at the village, then started down the hill.

The guards noticed him almost immediately.

Kamui couldn't blame them. He was a young man in travel-worn clothes, walking alone toward a shinobi village with no forehead protector, no clan symbol, and a plain staff tied across his back. He looked like someone who had either lost his way or made several poor decisions in a row.

One of the guards raised a hand.

"Stop there."

Kamui stopped.

"Name?"

"Kamui."

"Family name?"

He hesitated. "That's a long story."

The guard waited for the rest of it.

Kamui waited for him to move on.

Neither happened.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask," Kamui admitted.

The younger guard beside him turned his face away, but not before Kamui caught the beginnings of a smile. His older companion remained unimpressed.

"Are you a missing-nin?"

"No."

"Mercenary?"

"No."

"Merchant?"

Kamui glanced at the battered pack hanging from his shoulder. "I don't think I have enough merchandise to qualify."

The younger guard folded his arms. "Then what exactly are you?"

"A traveler."

"Traveling from where?"

Kamui considered the road behind him. He had crossed enough of it to know that the answer they wanted wasn't one he could give.

"Far away."

"How far?"

"Very."

The older guard's expression suggested that Kamui was rapidly exhausting whatever patience he'd brought to work that morning.

Before he could ask another question, a third shinobi approached from inside the village carrying several sheets of paper.

"What's going on?"

"Traveler," the older guard said, with the weary emphasis of a man describing a recurring headache.

The newcomer looked Kamui over. "Identification?"

"No."

"Letter of introduction?"

"Afraid not."

"Anyone in the village expecting you?"

Kamui shook his head.

The shinobi lowered the papers. "You understand this isn't the usual way people arrive here."

"I was starting to get that impression."

The younger guard made a small noise that might have been a cough.

"Do you have money?" the newcomer asked.

"A little."

"And what do you intend to do in Konoha?"

"Find work, if someone will have me."

That earned him a more interested look.

"What kind of work?"

"Carrying things. Cleaning. Whatever needs doing." Kamui shifted the weight of his pack. "I can learn, too."

"You're not a shinobi?"

"No."

"Any combat training?"

"Nothing worth mentioning."

It wasn't an attempt to sound mysterious. He had no secret technique to demonstrate, and claiming otherwise in front of actual shinobi seemed like an excellent way to shorten his life.

The three men spoke among themselves. Kamui caught a few words about temporary entry and reporting requirements, but he kept quiet and let them finish. After several more questions, the newcomer filled out a permit, and the older guard handed Kamui a small wooden tag.

"Temporary visitor's permit. Keep it with you. Cause trouble, and you're out."

Kamui accepted it with both hands. "I'll do my best."

"To stay out of trouble?"

"To survive the week, actually. But I'll add that to the list."

This time the younger guard laughed outright. The older one rubbed at his forehead before stepping aside.

"Go on."

"Yes, sir."

Kamui passed beneath the gate, expecting, despite himself, to feel something extraordinary.

The first thing he heard was a woman shouting at a delivery man over a broken crate.

"I paid for the whole thing!"

"And I brought you the whole thing!" the man shouted back.

"In pieces!"

A child standing nearby watched the argument with the rapt attention of someone enjoying free entertainment.

Kamui had to step around the cart before he could continue. By the time he reached the next street, he was laughing under his breath.

So much for a grand entrance.

Inside the walls, Konoha was both familiar and not. He recognized the broad arrangement of streets and the distant shapes of buildings, but up close there were details no screen had ever bothered to show him. Uneven paving stones. Old timber darkened by rain. Fresh beams bracing a house that had recently needed repairs.

A woman hung laundry outside her home while talking to a neighbor. Two children argued over a wooden toy, each insisting the other had cheated. An old man sat outside a shop with his tea, watching the afternoon pass. Farther down the street, a blacksmith hammered glowing metal, and the smell of hot iron drifted between the buildings.

Kamui slowed beside a produce stall to let a porter squeeze past with a heavy basket. The porter muttered a quick thanks without looking up and hurried on.

Somewhere in the future were Madara Uchiha, Pain, and battles that would turn these streets into places people remembered for all the wrong reasons. Here and now, though, a shopkeeper was complaining about the price of cabbage, and someone upstairs was calling for a child to come home before supper.

His stomach growled.

Loudly.

The shopkeeper glanced over. Kamui offered an apologetic wave and kept walking.

"Right. Food first."

He checked the coins in his pocket, then remembered that food wasn't his only problem. He needed somewhere to sleep, and after that he needed work. Ideally before his remaining money disappeared.

He scanned the shops along the street. None advertised an urgent need for an unknown traveler who had arrived that afternoon carrying everything he owned.

"Start small," he muttered. "Cheap meal. Cheap room. Then convince somebody I'm useful."

He turned toward the market, following the smell of something frying, when another scent caught his attention: freshly cut cedar.

It came from a narrow side street. At the far end, beyond a couple of neighboring buildings, stacks of timber stood beside a workshop. A steady rasping sound carried from within, followed by the dull knock of wood against wood.

Kamui paused.

A carpenter's shop meant work that needed hands. He knew enough to be useful with simple tasks, and he could learn the rest if someone was willing to teach him. It was the first promising thing he'd seen since arriving.

Then his stomach made its opinion known again.

Kamui looked from the workshop to the market and sighed.

"Fine. You win."

He made a mental note of the side street and followed the food stalls instead. The workshop would still be there after he ate. At least, he hoped it would. He'd had enough surprises for one day.

Behind him, the sounds of sawing and hammering continued as the afternoon wore on. Kamui disappeared into the market crowd, just another traveler looking for a meal, a place to sleep, and a reason to be allowed back tomorrow.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you're enjoying the story, a follow or favorite is always appreciated!

For anyone interested in reading ahead, I also share advanced chapters on Patreon, with 5, 10, or 15 chapters ahead depending on the membership tier. Each tier covers my included stories, and free Patreon members can enjoy an extra chapter as a small thank-you!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AbyssalMandate

Thanks for reading and supporting my work. See you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The first thing Kamui learned about Konoha was that finding a roof over his head cost more than he'd expected. The second was that wandering around with a backpack made people assume he was either a traveler or unemployed. Unfortunately, both assumptions were correct.

He stood outside a modest inn, reading the wooden sign beside the door for the third time. No Vacancy.

"Well, that settles the difficult question of which room to choose."

The woman sweeping the entrance glanced at him. Kamui gave her a cheerful wave and retreated before she could mistake him for someone trying to negotiate with a sign.

Morning had settled comfortably over the village. Shopkeepers rolled up their shutters, a baker arranged fresh rolls on a tray, and two children were conducting a fierce argument over whose turn it was to pull a wooden cart. Somewhere beyond the market, someone was hammering metal into shape. Kamui recognized the streets from a world he'd once watched from the other side of a screen, but the little things were unfamiliar: the smell of bread, the mud caught between paving stones, the old woman scolding a delivery boy for nearly clipping her laundry.

He'd known Konoha as a place where battles happened. The people living here had rather more immediate concerns.

His stomach growled.

"Mine, for example." Kamui patted his pocket, heard the miserable clink of his remaining coins, and looked longingly at the bakery. "All right. Employment first. Breakfast afterward. A flawless plan, provided I survive until lunch."

The plan suffered several setbacks.

A grocer told him she didn't need another pair of hands. A merchant said he might have work next week, then became remarkably interested in arranging his shelves. At a blacksmith's shop, Kamui offered to carry supplies and received a slow inspection from a man whose forearms were nearly as thick as Kamui's thighs.

"Come back when you've grown another pair of arms," the blacksmith said.

"Would three be enough, or are you hiring in sets of four?"

The man stared at him. Kamui bowed politely and left before he discovered whether the blacksmith had a sense of humor.

By midday, he had accomplished the impressive feat of walking across half the village without earning a single coin. He bought the cheapest roll he could find, ate it in four bites, and sat on a low wall to consider his options.

"I've been thrown into another world," he muttered, "and the first enemy to defeat me is unemployment. What a humiliating beginning."

"Hey! You there!"

Kamui looked up. Across the street, a broad-shouldered older man with a gray beard stood beside a wagon loaded with timber. One of the ropes securing the planks had come loose, and the man was trying to keep a stack from shifting while a younger worker wrestled with the knot.

"You look healthy," the older man said.

Kamui put a hand over his heart. "At last. Someone appreciates me."

"I wasn't complimenting you. Can you lift?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"How embarrassing it'll be when I discover I can't."

The older man's mouth twitched. He pointed to the wagon. "Then come find out. I'll pay you for the afternoon if you're useful."

Kamui was on his feet before the sentence ended. "You should've opened with that."

"Most people ask how much."

"Most people had breakfast."

The man gave a short laugh and waved him over.

The wagon was heavier work than Kamui had anticipated. The first plank seemed manageable, the fifth less so, and by the time they reached the workshop his shoulders were beginning to lodge formal complaints. He helped unload the timber into a yard behind a low wooden building, where boards leaned against the walls and a half-finished table occupied the shaded space near the door.

Inside, the air smelled of fresh cedar, sawdust, and oil. Wooden shelves held tools arranged with a care that made Kamui reluctant to touch anything. A cabinet stood near the back wall, its doors still waiting for handles. It wasn't a grand establishment, but it was busy, and everything had a place.

"Stack those by length," the older man instructed. "And keep the straight boards separate from the warped ones."

Kamui picked up two planks and squinted along their edges. "How warped is warped?"

"If you have to ask, show me."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse if you put it in the wrong pile."

Kamui carried the boards over. After a few trips, the man corrected the way he held the longer pieces, demonstrating how to balance their weight rather than fighting it with his arms. Kamui listened. He'd never been above taking advice from someone who knew what he was doing, especially when his own hands were already starting to blister.

The younger worker from the wagon passed him on the way out, carrying a toolbox. "Don't worry. He tells everyone they're doing it wrong."

"I heard that, Masato," the older man called.

"That's because you have excellent hearing, boss."

"Then you should remember I can hear you wasting time, too."

Masato gave Kamui a sympathetic look and hurried away. Kamui grinned despite the ache in his shoulders. The workshop had a familiar sort of noise to it: tools being set down, people calling for things, the occasional complaint from someone who'd measured a board twice and still cut it wrong.

He worked until the afternoon heat settled heavily over the yard. By then his shirt clung to his back and his palms felt raw. He'd barely finished shifting the last stack when the older carpenter appeared with a flask of water.

"Drink before you fall over."

Kamui caught it with both hands. "I was planning a dramatic collapse, actually. Something memorable."

"Do it after you sweep."

"Cruel man."

"Thirsty man," the carpenter corrected. "Drink."

Kamui obeyed. The water was warm, but it was the best thing he'd tasted all day.

Later, he found Masato struggling to maneuver a long beam through the workshop door. The younger man had got one end inside, but the other was swinging dangerously close to a stack of finished stools. Kamui hurried over and caught it before anything toppled.

"I had it," Masato said, breathless.

"Absolutely. You were about to rearrange the entire shop in one movement."

"Just lift your end."

They carried it through together, turning carefully at Masato's instructions. Once the beam was down, Masato rubbed his wrists and glanced at Kamui's hands.

"First day doing this?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You've been gripping everything like it's trying to escape."

Kamui looked at the angry red marks across his palms. "And here I thought I was showing determination."

"Determination's good. You'll want your fingers tomorrow, though." Masato showed him where the workshop kept spare cloth for wrapping sore hands. "I'm Masato, by the way."

"Kamui. Thanks."

"Thank me when you can carry that thing without threatening my toes."

"Your toes are safe with me. Probably."

Masato laughed and went back to work.

As the sun sank toward the rooftops, the older carpenter inspected the lumber stacks and nodded once. Kamui wasn't sure whether that counted as praise until the man counted several coins into his hand.

"You worked hard," he said. "A little carelessly at first, but you listened. Come back tomorrow if you want another day's pay."

Kamui stared at the coins, then closed his fingers around them. "I'll be here."

"Good. Seven in the morning."

"Seven?" Kamui looked toward the sky as though it might intervene. "You're determined to make a responsible person out of me."

"That's your problem, not mine."

Kamui was still smiling when he slung his backpack over one shoulder. He had taken only a few steps toward the street when the carpenter called after him.

"Where are you staying?"

Kamui stopped. "I'm currently negotiating with fate."

"What does that mean?"

"It means fate has made an unreasonable offer, and I haven't found an inn willing to outbid it."

The carpenter regarded him for a long moment. "You don't have a room."

"Not in the strict sense of the word."

"Daichi," Masato called from inside, "the back storage room's empty, isn't it?"

So the carpenter's name was Daichi. Kamui filed that away as the older man turned to glare at his employee.

"It's full of things," Daichi said.

"Things we moved out last month."

"The washbasin's cracked."

"It still holds water if you don't fill it too high."

Daichi looked back at Kamui. "You mind a small room?"

Kamui blinked. "Are you offering?"

"Don't make me regret it. You can sleep there tonight. If you're staying, we'll discuss rent after you've earned enough to pay it."

For once, Kamui didn't have a quick answer. He glanced toward the street, where people were heading home with baskets and bundles tucked under their arms. He had spent the morning wondering whether he'd have to find a sheltered corner somewhere outside the market.

"I can clean it," he said at last. "And pay what I owe once I have the money."

"You can start by showing up on time tomorrow."

Kamui broke into a grin. "Seven in the morning. I'll even arrive looking respectable."

"Don't promise miracles," Masato said.

Daichi snorted and led him through the workshop.

The storage room was tucked behind the main building. It had one narrow window, a wooden shelf, a rolled-up futon, and a washbasin that was indeed cracked. A little dust lay along the corners. There was just enough space to spread out the bedding without blocking the door.

Kamui stepped inside, set down his backpack, and turned slowly to take it all in.

"It's not much," Daichi said from the doorway.

"It's a roof." Kamui tested the window latch, which held after a little persuasion. "And a door. Honestly, you're spoiling me."

Daichi handed him an old broom. "Then spoil yourself by sweeping."

Kamui laughed. "Yes, boss."

The older man lingered just long enough to point out the wash area and tell him where to leave his boots. Then he returned to the workshop, calling for Masato to put away the tools before closing.

Kamui swept the floor, shook the futon out in the yard, and washed his hands. The water stung his blisters. He hissed through his teeth and decided he would take Masato's advice about wrapping them tomorrow.

When he finally sat down, the room had grown quiet enough for him to hear the village beyond the window. A dog barked. Someone laughed in the lane. From the workshop came the scrape of a chair and Daichi's voice reminding Masato that leaving a saw on the floor was an excellent way to lose a foot.

Kamui leaned back against the wall. He'd found work, earned a handful of coins, and acquired a place to sleep. His arms hurt too much to lift his backpack again, but that seemed a fair trade.

He took one of the coins from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers, still faintly surprised by its weight. Tomorrow he'd have to get up early, learn how not to ruin his hands, and figure out whether Daichi was always that grumpy or had made a special effort for the new hire.

His stomach growled again.

Kamui looked down at it. "Right. And breakfast. We really need to improve our planning."

He put the coin away, stood with a groan, and went to see whether any food stalls were still open.

 

[abyssalmandate]

The workshop came awake before the sun did. Kamui discovered this when someone knocked twice on the door of the little room above the storeroom, then walked away without waiting for an answer.

He lay still for another moment, listening to the creak of a wagon in the yard. The room was small, the mattress thin, and the ceiling low enough that he'd nearly introduced his forehead to a beam the night before. After spending most of yesterday wondering where he would sleep, however, he wasn't inclined to complain.

"Kamui!" Daichi called from below. "If you're planning to sleep through breakfast, say so now."

"I'm awake!"

"Then come down while the food's warm."

Kamui sat up too quickly, struck the beam anyway, and arrived in the yard rubbing his head.

Daichi was standing beside a wagon stacked with lumber. His gray beard and broad shoulders made him look as though he'd been carved out of one of the heavier logs. He glanced at Kamui's forehead, took in the expression on his face, and pointed toward a low table by the workshop door.

"Eat first. Then help me with those boards."

"Is that concern I hear?" Kamui asked.

"It's a warning. I don't want you dropping timber because you forgot to eat."

Masato, the younger worker, was already sitting at the table with a bowl in his hands. He moved his elbow aside to make room. "You hit the beam, didn't you?"

"I'm considering a complaint against the architect."

"Daichi built that room."

Kamui looked at the carpenter. Daichi looked back over the rim of his cup.

"Excellent craftsmanship," Kamui said, and sat down.

Masato nearly spilled his breakfast.

The morning passed in a procession of boards, rope, and instructions that Kamui understood only after Daichi demonstrated them. He was strong enough to carry lumber, but strength didn't tell him where to place his hands or how to keep a long plank from swinging into the doorframe. Twice Daichi made him put a load down and start again. The third time, Kamui adjusted his grip before the old man could say anything.

"Better," Daichi said.

Kamui waited for further praise. None came.

"I'm beginning to understand how generous you are with compliments."

"Good. Saves me the trouble of explaining."

By midday the wagon was empty, the lumber was stacked beneath the awning, and Kamui's shirt had developed an impressive collection of sawdust and sweat. Daichi counted out a few coins and pressed them into his palm.

"Your share for yesterday and this morning. Don't mistake it for a fortune."

"I wasn't going to. I've seen fortunes before, and they usually weigh more."

Daichi ignored that. "Be back after the market closes. We've got a frame to finish."

Kamui pocketed the money, thanked him, and headed into the village.

Konoha was a different place at midday. The streets that had been quiet when he first wandered through them were crowded with shoppers, couriers, and children slipping between adults who had no intention of moving aside. A vegetable seller argued cheerfully with a customer over the price of radishes. Somewhere nearby, oil hissed in a pan, sending the smell of fried dough across the street.

Kamui slowed at a food stall and checked his coins again. He could afford lunch, provided he didn't get ambitious about it. Tomorrow's meals were another matter. He'd found work, but one good morning didn't mean he'd figured out how to live here.

He was deciding whether the rice balls looked more filling than the noodles when a voice cut across the market.

"I told you I'll pay the rest tomorrow!"

A blond boy stood in front of a fruit stall, his shoulders squared and his hands balled into fists. He was small enough that the counter came almost to his chest, but he was arguing with the shopkeeper as if he expected to win by volume alone.

"You said that last time," the man replied.

"Because I was going to! I just didn't have enough!"

"Then come back when you do."

The boy opened his mouth, but his stomach made a noise that carried farther than either of them would have liked. Someone near the stall snickered. The boy's ears turned red.

"Whatever! I wasn't that hungry."

He turned sharply and marched away, nearly colliding with a woman carrying a basket. She stepped aside without speaking. Other shoppers resumed their conversations as he passed.

Kamui watched him go.

He knew the blond hair and the whisker-like marks on the boy's cheeks. Recognizing Naruto Uzumaki wasn't difficult. Deciding what to do about him was another matter.

The story Kamui remembered was full of battles, rivals, impossible techniques, and people who changed the world. None of that helped much with the immediate problem of a hungry kid pretending he wasn't hungry.

Kamui looked at the coins in his palm, then at the food stall.

"Two rice balls, please."

The vendor wrapped them in paper. Kamui paid, took his lunch, and followed the direction Naruto had gone.

He found the boy sitting under a tree near the edge of the market, watching the traffic through the gaps between its roots. Naruto's posture suggested that he was perfectly happy to be alone. His expression suggested he was still thinking of several things he should have said to the shopkeeper.

Kamui stopped a short distance away. "Mind if I sit?"

Naruto looked up suspiciously. "It's a public tree."

"Fair point." Kamui settled against the trunk, leaving space between them. He unwrapped one rice ball and took a bite.

For a while, neither said anything. People came and went on the street beyond the tree, and a cartwheel rattled over a loose paving stone.

Kamui opened the second packet and held it out. "Bought too much."

Naruto looked at the food, then at him. "You just happened to buy an extra one?"

"Apparently I'm terrible at counting."

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were."

"Then don't act like it." Naruto folded his arms. "I saw you back there."

Kamui lowered the rice ball a little. He'd expected suspicion, but not quite that direct an accusation. "All right. I saw you too."

"I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me."

"Then we can call it lunch with a stranger. You can even insult my taste in food if it makes things easier."

Naruto eyed him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because this one's got pickled plum in it, and I'm starting to think that was a mistake."

Naruto's attention returned to the packet. "What's in the other one?"

"Salmon, I think."

"You think?"

"I haven't opened it. Could be a terrible surprise."

Naruto hesitated, then snatched the rice ball from his hand. "If it's awful, I'm blaming you."

"Reasonable."

The first bite settled the argument. Naruto ate quickly, though he slowed when he noticed Kamui hadn't said anything. Kamui kept eating his own lunch and watching a pair of children race each other past the tree.

After a few minutes Naruto crumpled the paper in his fist. "It was salmon."

"Glad the mystery's solved."

"Wasn't bad, either." He glanced away. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Naruto seemed uncertain what to do with that simple answer. He picked at the edge of the wrapper before finally asking, "You new around here?"

"Does it show?"

"You don't know where anything is, do you?"

"I found the market."

"That's not hard."

"Found work too."

Naruto turned back. "Doing what?"

"Carpentry. Mostly carrying things until I learn how not to ruin them."

"That's a job?"

"I'm hoping so. They paid me."

Naruto considered this, apparently deciding it counted. "I'm Naruto Uzumaki. I'm gonna be Hokage someday."

He said it with the certainty of someone announcing tomorrow's weather, and he watched Kamui closely afterward, waiting for the usual response.

"Kamui," Kamui replied. "And Hokage, huh? That's going to be a lot of paperwork."

Naruto blinked. "What?"

"Reports. Meetings. People complaining about broken fences. I saw the Hokage's office yesterday. There were stacks of papers in there."

"Who cares about papers? The Hokage's the strongest ninja in the village!"

"Then I suppose you'll have to be strong enough to survive the paperwork too."

Naruto stared at him for a second, then laughed despite himself. "You're weird."

"I've been getting that a lot."

"Good. Means people are paying attention."

Kamui gave him an appreciative look. "That's one way to see it."

Naruto stood and brushed dirt from his shorts. "Anyway, I gotta go. Iruka-sensei's gonna kill me if I'm late again."

"Then you'd better run."

He took two steps, stopped, and turned around. "Hey. I'm paying you back."

"It's a rice ball, Naruto."

"I know what it is! I'm still paying you back."

Kamui could have argued. The boy's expression made it clear that would only take longer than he had before class.

"All right," he said. "I'll accept payment when you've got it."

Naruto pointed at him. "So don't disappear!"

"I work at Daichi's carpenter shop. If you need to find me, ask around for the place with the loud old man."

"Who's loud?" Naruto demanded.

Kamui looked at him for a moment. "You know, that's a fair question."

Naruto grinned, then sprinted toward the academy road. Halfway to the corner he glanced back and waved, almost running into a man carrying baskets in the process. The man shouted; Naruto shouted an apology without slowing down.

Kamui finished his lunch under the tree. He had spent more than he meant to, and Daichi would be expecting him back before long. He folded the empty wrappers together, found a bin, and headed toward the workshop.

At the next intersection, he heard Naruto's voice somewhere in the distance, already arguing with someone about being late.

Kamui shook his head, amused, and kept walking. He had a frame to help finish, and he was fairly sure Daichi wouldn't accept meeting the future Hokage as an excuse for leaving the lumber unfinished.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you're enjoying the story, a follow or favorite is always appreciated!

For anyone interested in reading ahead, I also share advanced chapters on Patreon, with 5, 10, or 15 chapters ahead depending on the membership tier. Each tier covers my included stories, and free Patreon members can enjoy an extra chapter as a small thank-you!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AbyssalMandate

Thanks for reading and supporting my work. See you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

By the fourth morning, Kamui had learned that the workshop possessed its own peculiar sense of time. Daichi arrived before the sun cleared the neighboring roofs, Masato arrived just after him, and anyone who arrived later was greeted with a look that suggested the entire building had been waiting in disappointment.

Kamui made it through the door with a few minutes to spare and discovered that this counted as late anyway.

"Good morning to you too," he told Daichi, who was inspecting a stack of boards beside the entrance.

"There's a broom by the wall."

"Such warmth. I'll be telling people about your hospitality for years."

"Tell them after you've swept."

Masato emerged from the back room carrying a box of nails. He glanced at Kamui's hands and nodded toward the cloth wrapped around his palms. "You actually listened."

"I listen to all sorts of advice. Sometimes I even follow it."

"Then there's hope for you yet."

The three of them had spent the previous day finishing an order of stools for a tea shop, and the work had left the floor covered with shavings. Kamui set his bag down, took the broom, and pushed a mound of sawdust toward the open doorway. He was still getting used to the workshop's habits: the tools returned to the same hooks every evening, the timber stacked by size, the unfinished pieces marked in chalk so no one would mistake them for scraps. Daichi rarely explained a rule twice. Fortunately, Masato was willing to explain it once more, provided he could complain while doing so.

An hour later Kamui was helping move the finished stools onto a handcart. He lifted the first one by its seat and earned a sharp noise from Daichi.

"Legs. Carry it by the legs. If that joint isn't dry, you'll put your thumb through a day's work."

Kamui changed his grip. "You could have told me that before I picked it up."

"I just did."

"After I picked it up."

"Then remember it for the next one."

Masato, who had already loaded two stools, hid his expression behind the cart. Kamui suspected he was enjoying the lesson far more than was strictly necessary.

They finished the delivery before noon. The tea-shop owner checked each stool, paid Daichi, and sent them away with a paper packet of sesame crackers for the road. Masato ate his share immediately. Kamui saved his until they reached the workshop, where he found Daichi counting the payment at his desk.

"Good news," Kamui announced. "Nothing broke."

"That's generally what the customer pays for."

"I feel we should celebrate my flawless record."

Daichi looked at the cart. "Your record is one delivery."

"And what a delivery."

The older man pushed a few coins across the desk. Kamui frowned at them.

"What's this?"

"Your pay. Including yesterday's extra hours."

"I thought you said we'd settle at the end of the week."

"I changed my mind. You've been eating crackers for breakfast and pretending it's a choice."

Kamui opened his mouth, then closed it. The packet in his hand was doing him no favors.

"It's a respectable breakfast," he said at last.

"Go find a respectable lunch."

Masato leaned against the doorframe. "There's a noodle place near the eastern market. Cheap, and they give you enough broth that you won't be hungry again before sunset."

"That's a very specific recommendation."

"I've had to live on apprentice wages."

Daichi returned to his accounts. "And yet you survived to talk this much."

Kamui pocketed the coins before either of them could invent another task for him. Outside, the midday streets were busy with shopkeepers calling to customers and academy students drifting home in noisy groups. A pair of shinobi crossed the rooftops overhead. One nearly collided with a laundry line, corrected course, and vanished before the woman below finished shouting at him.

Kamui watched the woman retrieve a fallen sheet and considered offering to help, but she was already shaking a fist at the empty roof. He decided she had matters well in hand.

Masato's directions took him past the market and into a narrower street lined with small shops. He found the ramen stand by following the smell of broth. A short curtain hung across its entrance, and the wooden sign above it read Ichiraku.

Kamui stopped. He had expected to recognize places in Konoha eventually. Recognizing one while hungry was a particularly welcome surprise.

He ducked under the curtain. "Afternoon. Is there room for one more?"

"Plenty," said the man behind the counter. He had broad shoulders, an easy manner, and the practiced movements of someone who could prepare a meal while carrying on three conversations. "What'll you have?"

Kamui took a seat and studied the menu. "Miso ramen, please."

"Coming up."

The man turned toward the stove. Kamui rested his aching hands on the counter, then immediately moved them when he noticed a damp patch. The owner noticed the cloth around his palms.

"New to manual work?"

"That obvious?"

"You're holding your chopsticks like you're afraid they'll bite."

Kamui examined his grip. "I'm a carpenter's assistant. My hands haven't agreed to the arrangement yet."

"Daichi's place?"

"Do you know him?"

"Everyone who's needed a shelf or a chair around here knows Daichi. Tell him Teuchi says that table he repaired is still standing."

"Should I tell him you sound surprised?"

Teuchi chuckled as he lifted noodles from the pot. "You can, if you don't mind being sent back here to apologize."

The bowl arrived steaming. Kamui leaned over it, breathed in the smell, and took his first mouthful. The broth was rich enough to make him forget, briefly, how much his shoulders hurt.

Teuchi waited until he'd swallowed. "Well?"

"I may have made a financial mistake."

"What's that?"

"Finding this place before payday. I can already tell where my wages are going."

"There's worse trouble to get into."

Kamui agreed and took another bite.

The curtain shifted a few minutes later, followed by a voice Kamui had heard only once before and was unlikely to mistake for anyone else's.

"Old man Teuchi! Tell me you've got something good today!"

Naruto Uzumaki dropped onto the stool two seats away. He was dusty around the knees and carrying an academy bag with one strap that looked close to giving up. He began ordering before he had properly settled, then spotted Kamui.

"Oh. It's you."

"Hello to you too, future Hokage."

Naruto straightened. "You remembered!"

"Hard to forget. You announced it to half the market."

"That was the point."

Teuchi set a cup of water in front of Naruto. "Miso, as usual?"

"Extra pork!" Naruto said, then hesitated and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a few coins, counted them twice, and looked at the menu with a growing scowl. "Uh. Normal pork."

Teuchi glanced at the coins. "You're still short."

"Only a little!"

"You said that yesterday."

"And I was right yesterday too."

"That's not how paying works."

Naruto's ears went red. He tried to gather the coins back into his pocket without meeting either man's eyes. "Forget it. I'll come back later."

"Sit down," Teuchi said. "You can settle the rest another day."

Naruto stayed halfway off his stool. "I already owe you."

"And you've paid me back before. Don't make me argue with a hungry kid while I've got a pot boiling."

Kamui kept eating. Teuchi didn't need rescuing from his own generosity, and Naruto looked as if another adult making a fuss over him might send him straight out the door.

Naruto sat again, though his gaze lingered on the coins in his hand. "Fine. But I'm paying everything next time."

"You can start by remembering how much you owe," Teuchi said.

"I remember!"

"Then how much?"

Naruto named an amount. Teuchi raised one eyebrow. Naruto tried a second figure, much larger than the first.

Kamui nearly choked on a noodle.

"What's so funny?" Naruto demanded.

"Nothing. Just wondering whether your future Hokage salary is already spoken for."

"I'll have tons of money when I'm Hokage!"

"Excellent. You can buy everyone ramen."

"Hey, don't volunteer my money!"

Teuchi laughed and turned back to the stove. Naruto watched him prepare the order, then leaned toward Kamui.

"Did you come here because of me?"

Kamui looked at his bowl. "I came because somebody told me the ramen was good."

"Who?"

"A fellow at work. Masato."

Naruto considered that. "Never heard of him."

"He'll be devastated."

Naruto snorted, then glanced at Kamui's wrapped hands. "What happened to you?"

"Wood."

"Wood did that?"

"Turns out carrying it all day is less pleasant than looking at it."

Naruto leaned closer. "You fight with it or something?"

"I've lost every round so far."

"You should train more."

"That's what my boss says, except he calls it working."

Naruto looked at the bandages with new interest. "So you're not a ninja?"

"Nope. I help make furniture."

"Really? Why?"

"People need places to sit. Apparently they get upset if you tell them to use the floor."

"That sounds boring."

"Some days. Yesterday I carried a table through a doorway that was too narrow. That was exciting for everyone involved."

Naruto laughed. "You should've gone through the window."

"That's exactly the sort of idea that gets me yelled at."

His ramen arrived before he could defend it further. Naruto forgot the conversation at once, pulled his bowl close, and dug in. Kamui resumed his own meal, grateful for a stretch in which neither of them had to find something clever to say.

After several mouthfuls, Naruto glanced sideways. "Hey. About that rice ball."

Kamui looked over. "What about it?"

"I didn't forget."

"I didn't think you did."

Naruto poked at his noodles. "I said I'd pay you back."

"You did."

"And I will. Just not today." He nudged the few coins beside his bowl, then hurried to add, "I've got other stuff to pay for first."

Kamui glanced at Teuchi, who was wiping down the far end of the counter. "Seems like you've already got a bill to settle. Start there."

Naruto frowned, clearly expecting an argument about how a rice ball didn't matter. When none came, he slid the coins back into his pocket.

"Okay," he said. "But you're still on the list."

"Should I be worried about how long this list is?"

"It's not that long!"

"Good. I hate paperwork."

Naruto gave him an odd look. "You keep talking about paperwork."

"It's a serious danger to future Hokage. I'm looking out for you."

"Then when I become Hokage, you can do mine."

Kamui set down his chopsticks. "I take back everything. Being Hokage is a terrible idea."

Naruto laughed so loudly that Teuchi asked him to lower his voice, although the man was smiling when he said it.

They finished eating at different speeds. Naruto demolished his bowl and spent another minute trying to convince Teuchi that extra noodles ought to count as a reward for enthusiastic customers. Teuchi refused with the patience of a man who had heard the argument many times before.

Kamui paid for his meal, thanked Teuchi, and stood. His legs protested after the morning's work. Naruto noticed.

"Seriously, you need to train."

"I'll put it on the schedule, right after learning how to lift a chair without offending Daichi."

"Who's Daichi?"

"My boss. Carpenter's shop near the market. Loud voice, terrible sense of humor, knows everything about wood."

"Sounds scary."

"He is. Especially if you touch the wrong saw."

Naruto looked intrigued rather than frightened, but before he could ask anything else, Teuchi called his name and pointed to the empty bowl.

"Counter, Naruto. You're blocking the next customer."

Naruto slid off his stool and pushed the bowl back with exaggerated care. "Thanks, old man! I'll bring the rest tomorrow."

"Get to class on time first," Teuchi called after him.

"Class is over!"

"Then you've got a head start on tomorrow."

Naruto had no answer for that. He ducked out through the curtain, and Kamui followed a moment later.

They walked together as far as the next intersection. Naruto had a training ground to reach, he explained, because there was a technique he wanted to get right before Iruka-sensei checked it again. Kamui had an afternoon of sanding ahead of him and little desire to arrive late enough for Daichi to notice.

"Hey," Naruto said when they stopped. "You're really going back to work?"

"Unless you've got a better-paying job for me."

"I could make you my assistant when I'm Hokage."

"Didn't we just establish that you wanted me doing paperwork?"

"Yeah, but you could do other stuff too."

"I'll consider the offer when you can afford lunch."

Naruto made a face, then pointed down the street. "Fine. But don't forget!"

"You've made it difficult."

He ran off toward the training grounds, nearly colliding with a pair of academy students before veering around them. Kamui watched just long enough to make sure nobody went down, then turned toward the workshop.

When he returned, Masato was trying to fit a drawer into a cabinet and losing patience with it. Daichi stood nearby, looking as though he had warned him about this exact problem an hour ago.

"You found the place?" Masato asked without looking up.

"I did. You neglected to mention the owner knows Daichi."

"Teuchi knows everyone."

"He says the table you repaired is still standing," Kamui told Daichi.

"It had better be." Daichi nodded at the unfinished cabinet. "Wash your hands. Masato's going to need someone to hold that frame while he fixes what he did to it."

"I didn't do anything to it," Masato protested.

"Then it'll be a quick repair."

Kamui hung his bag on its hook and went to help. The afternoon passed with the smell of sawdust, the scrape of sandpaper, and Masato insisting that the drawer had been troublesome from the beginning. By the time they finally got it sliding smoothly, Kamui's arms ached again.

He was hungry by closing time, too. That, he thought as he counted the remaining coins in his pocket, was going to be a recurring problem.

At least he knew where to find a good bowl of ramen.

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[abyssalmandate]

Rain arrived before sunrise, soft enough that Kamui slept through the beginning of it and persistent enough that he woke to the sound of water dripping from the workshop eaves. By the time he came downstairs, the yard was a patchwork of puddles, and the lumber stacked beneath the awning had darkened along its exposed edges.

He stood in the doorway with his breakfast in one hand, considering the weather.

"I was going to make an excellent impression today," he announced.

Daichi, who was sorting chisels into a wooden tray, didn't look up. "You can make one indoors."

"It's harder to look heroic while sanding cabinets."

"Then stop trying to look heroic and sand the cabinet."

Kamui took another bite of bread. "You drive a hard bargain, old man."

"I haven't offered you a bargain."

From the far bench, Masato snorted into his tea. Kamui pointed at him in accusation, but Masato was already reaching for the unfinished drawer he'd left clamped overnight.

There was no outdoor delivery to make in this weather. Daichi had two pieces of furniture waiting for finishing, a cupboard door that needed its edge planed straight, and a cabinet whose owner had apparently measured the space beneath her stairs with more optimism than accuracy. Kamui was assigned the cabinet, along with sandpaper and a warning not to round the corners.

For the next hour he worked under the steady rasp of wood being shaped. Rain pattered on the roof. Masato fitted a drawer into its runners, pulled it out again, and muttered something unkind about whoever had cut the left side. Daichi moved between the benches, occasionally stopping to check a joint or put a tool back where it belonged.

Kamui liked this part of the day more than he expected. Nobody needed him to explain himself. If he worked badly, the uneven surface told on him. If he worked carefully, the wood grew smooth beneath his palm. The workshop had rules he could learn, and most of them made sense.

"You're doing it again," Masato said.

Kamui looked up. "Doing what?"

"Staring at the cabinet like it's going to tell you a secret."

"I'm checking my work."

"You've checked that corner six times."

"And it has remained a very suspicious corner."

Masato came over, ran two fingers along the edge, and took the sandpaper from him. "Here. You're pressing too hard at the end of each stroke. That's why it feels different."

He demonstrated, using a lighter touch and keeping his hand moving past the edge before lifting it. Kamui watched, then tried the same motion when Masato handed the paper back.

"Better," Masato said. "You don't have to fight the wood."

"That advice would've saved me a lot of trouble yesterday."

"I gave it to you yesterday."

Kamui considered this. "Then perhaps you should speak louder."

Masato returned to his drawer, shaking his head. Daichi had heard the exchange, but his only contribution was to set another sheet of sandpaper beside Kamui's elbow.

By midday the rain had weakened to an occasional drip. Daichi tested the glue on the cupboard, decided it needed more time, and sent Masato to collect hinges from a supplier on the next street. Kamui offered to accompany him, but Daichi shook his head.

"One errand doesn't require two men. Get some air. You've been rubbing that cabinet like you're trying to erase it."

"You know, some employers would be grateful for such dedication."

"Some employers haven't seen what you did to the first board."

That was difficult to argue with. Kamui washed the dust from his hands, borrowed a cloth to dry them, and stepped into the street.

Konoha smelled different after rain. Water had washed the dust from the paving stones, leaving the gutters running clear in places and muddy in others. Shopkeepers were lifting their awnings. Two children in sandals competed to see who could jump the widest puddle without getting wet; the smaller one lost and immediately demanded another attempt.

Kamui had nowhere urgent to be, so he took a route he hadn't walked before. He found a narrow lane lined with vegetable stalls, a tea shop whose proprietor was arguing with a deliveryman about a broken crate, and a little bridge crossing a stream that had risen almost to the bottom of its stone supports.

He stopped there to watch a leaf spin in an eddy.

"Hey!"

Kamui turned at the shout. Naruto was coming toward him from the other end of the bridge, running hard enough that his sandals slapped against the wet stones. He slowed only when he was a few steps away.

"There you are!"

"Here I am," Kamui agreed. "Should I be worried about how pleased you sound?"

"I've been looking for you."

"That sounds even more worrying."

Naruto ignored him. He shoved a hand into his pocket, fumbled for a moment, and brought out a small collection of coins. He counted them against his palm with great concentration, then thrust his hand forward.

"Five ryo."

Kamui looked at the money, then at Naruto. "For me?"

"I told you I'd pay you back, didn't I?"

The boy's expression was almost challenging. He was prepared for an argument, and Kamui suspected he had rehearsed several answers to it on the way here.

"You did," Kamui said. "Though I remember spending a little more than five."

"I know that!" Naruto's fingers curled protectively around the coins. "It's what I've got right now. I'll bring the rest later."

"All right."

Kamui held out his hand.

Naruto stared at it. "Huh?"

"You said you came to pay me. Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No!" Naruto dropped the coins into his palm before Kamui could finish. Then he frowned. "You're really taking them?"

"You went to the trouble of finding me. Seems rude to refuse."

"Most people would've told me to keep them."

Kamui tucked the coins into his pocket. "Would you have liked that?"

Naruto opened his mouth, thought about it, and closed it again. "Not really. I said I'd pay."

"Then we're agreed. Five ryo off the debt."

"How much is left?"

"I'll have to consult my accounts."

"You don't have accounts!"

"That's an outrageous accusation against a hardworking businessman."

"You carry wood!"

"And now I collect debts. My career is moving quickly."

Naruto burst out laughing. He leaned against the bridge railing, still catching his breath from the run, and Kamui moved beside him to let a woman carrying two covered baskets pass.

After a moment Naruto asked, "So you really work at that carpenter place?"

"Every day they'll have me."

"What do you make?"

"So far? Mostly mistakes. Daichi makes the furniture. Masato makes sure I don't ruin it."

"Who's Daichi?"

"The man who hired me. Runs the workshop, knows everything about wood, and somehow hears me talking even when he's in another room."

"Sounds scary."

"Only if you're a badly measured plank."

Naruto rested his elbows on the railing. Below them, the stream carried a twig around a stone and out of sight. "I thought maybe you were a ninja," he admitted.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"You don't even know one jutsu?"

"I know how to move a wardrobe through a narrow doorway without breaking either one."

"That's not a jutsu!"

"It feels like one when the wardrobe's heavier than you are."

Naruto looked at him sideways, apparently trying to decide whether that counted as impressive. "I could move a wardrobe."

"Probably. But could you do it without smashing the doorway?"

"Of course!"

Kamui raised an eyebrow.

"…If I practiced," Naruto amended.

"That's more like it."

Naruto picked at a bit of loose mortar along the railing. "I practice all the time. At the Academy, too. Iruka-sensei says I should spend less time trying to show off and more time getting the basics right."

"Does he?"

"Yeah. He's always on my case."

"Sounds like he pays attention."

Naruto made a face. "Too much attention when I do something wrong."

Kamui didn't argue. He knew very little about Iruka beyond what Naruto had said, and he wasn't about to turn an ordinary complaint about a teacher into a lecture. Instead he glanced at the damp sleeve Naruto was rubbing against the stone.

"How'd you find me, anyway?"

"Asked around. Someone said the carpenter's new helper was always walking through the market looking lost."

"That description could fit half the village."

"They said he talked too much."

"Ah. A perfect identification."

"Then I saw you on the bridge." Naruto sounded pleased with the efficiency of his investigation. "Easy."

"An impressive operation. You should tell the Hokage."

"I will, when I'm Hokage."

The answer came so quickly that Kamui laughed. Naruto turned toward the monument rising above the rooftops, his eyes following the carved faces. He looked completely certain of himself, even with his sleeves wet and his pockets five ryo lighter.

"I'm serious," he said.

"I can tell."

"Everyone's gonna know my name someday. Then nobody can act like I'm not there."

Kamui let that sit between them. A cart rattled across the bridge behind them, and Naruto shifted aside without being asked. When it passed, he was still looking toward the mountain.

"Well," Kamui said, "if you get the job, I hope they pay you enough to settle your debts."

Naruto swung around. "Hey! By then I'll have paid you back a hundred times over!"

"Good. Because I'm charging interest."

"What's interest?"

"A terrible thing you should avoid learning about for as long as possible."

"That's cheating!"

"You caught me."

Naruto tried to glare at him, failed, and laughed again. Then a distant bell rang from somewhere beyond the market. He straightened so suddenly he nearly knocked his elbow against Kamui's.

"Aw, man. I was supposed to be somewhere!"

"Somewhere important?"

"Maybe!"

"A convincing answer."

Naruto was already backing away. "Don't lose count of the money, okay? I'm bringing more!"

"I'll keep the books ready."

"You said you didn't have books!"

"Then I'll get some before you come back."

Naruto ran off, splashing through a puddle he could easily have avoided. At the far end of the bridge he turned to wave, nearly collided with a passerby, shouted an apology, and disappeared around the corner.

Kamui remained by the railing for another minute. Then he took the five ryo from his pocket and counted the coins once, just to make sure he hadn't misunderstood the amount. He'd earned more than that in wages that morning. Naruto had probably spent longer finding him than the coins were worth.

He put them away again.

On his way back, he passed a stationery stall and stopped to look at a row of cheap notebooks. One was small enough to fit into his pocket, with a plain brown cover and rough paper. He bought it, along with a pencil.

When he returned to the workshop, Masato was still wrestling with the drawer. Daichi was at the front bench, checking the fit of a cabinet door.

"Enjoy your walk?" Daichi asked.

"Made my first collection."

Masato glanced up. "Collection?"

"A customer owes me money. Paid the first installment today."

Daichi's expression changed just enough to suggest suspicion. "What customer?"

"Very young. Extremely loud. Ambitious career plans."

"That sounds like a child," Masato said.

"A remarkably responsible one."

Daichi set down the cabinet door. "Kamui."

"I bought him food. He insisted on paying me back."

"And you took his money?"

"Five ryo. He was proud of it."

Daichi studied him for a moment, then returned to his work. "Make sure you don't forget what he paid."

"Already taken care of."

Kamui showed them the notebook before slipping it into his pocket. Masato shook his head, apparently deciding there was no sensible response to a grown man keeping accounts for a ramen debt. Daichi only pointed toward the half-finished cabinet.

"Your corner still needs work."

Kamui put the notebook aside where it wouldn't gather dust and picked up the sandpaper. He had barely made two strokes before Masato called across the room.

"Lighter pressure."

"I remember!"

"Then prove it."

Kamui adjusted his grip and got back to work. Outside, the last of the rain dripped from the eaves, and the workshop settled into the familiar sound of tools against wood.

 

[abyssalmandate]

The cabinet door squeaked when Daichi opened it.

It was a small sound, barely noticeable beneath the scrape of a plane at the far bench, but Daichi stopped with his hand on the brass handle. He closed the door and opened it again. The hinge gave the same thin complaint.

Masato, who had spent the morning fitting the second door, looked over his shoulder. "Don't tell me we have to take the whole thing apart."

"Only if you've managed to attach the hinges to the wrong side," Daichi said.

"I haven't."

"Then fetch the oil."

Kamui leaned over the cabinet, examining the joinery. He'd helped sand the panels yesterday, which meant he felt entitled to a small share of the credit and absolutely none of the blame.

"Sounds fine to me. A cabinet that announces when somebody opens it? That's security."

"It's a cabinet," Masato said. "Not a guard dog."

"Guard dogs need feeding. This is a superior investment."

Daichi held out his hand for the oil without looking up. "If either of you is finished designing our new security system, I could use some help."

Kamui took the rag from the bench and wiped the hinge while Daichi worked a drop of oil into the pin. After a few careful movements, the squeak disappeared. Daichi tested the door twice more, then stood back to examine the cabinet. One corner of the finish was slightly darker than the rest, but the doors hung straight, and the shelves sat level.

"Good enough to send," he decided.

Masato stretched his shoulders. "Finally. I thought that thing was going to live here."

"It still might," Kamui said. "If the customer takes one look at it and decides to adopt us instead."

"The customer has already paid a deposit," Daichi replied. "And unlike some people, he doesn't spend half the morning talking."

Kamui glanced at the sunlight creeping across the yard. "Only half? I'm losing my touch."

They carried the cabinet into the storage room together. Kamui took the heavier end before Masato could argue, and the three of them eased it through the narrow doorway without scraping the fresh finish. Daichi checked the packing cloth and the delivery slip, then looked at the stack of smaller orders waiting beside the wall.

There was still work to do, but none of it needed all three pairs of hands. The next timber shipment wouldn't arrive until morning.

"Masato, finish those handles. Kamui, you're done for today."

Kamui paused halfway through folding the packing cloth. "Am I being dismissed or rewarded?"

"Whichever gets you out of the doorway."

"That's the warmest thing you've said to me all week."

"Move, and I'll try to improve."

Masato snorted and bent over the handles again. Kamui washed the dust from his hands at the basin, hung up his apron, and retrieved his small notebook from the shelf where he'd left it safely away from the sawdust. Five ryo was written on the first page, along with a name and an untidy line underneath it. He checked that the book was dry before slipping it into his pocket.

Outside, Konoha was enjoying one of those afternoons when nobody seemed particularly eager to get anywhere. A pair of shopkeepers had dragged stools into the shade and were debating the price of vegetables. Two children ran past carrying wooden swords, one declaring himself Hokage while the other insisted that Hokage weren't allowed to surrender just because they got hit on the knee. A dog slept beneath a handcart with the confidence of an animal that had never paid rent.

Kamui bought a cheap bun from a stall and ate it as he walked. His wages weren't much, but the money had stopped vanishing quite so quickly now that he had regular work and a place to sleep. He was considering whether he could afford a second bun when shouting drifted over a low fence beside an open practice field.

"I told you it would've worked!"

"Yeah? Then why's the bucket over there?"

"Because you moved!"

Kamui knew the first voice. He leaned against the fence and found Naruto standing in the middle of a muddy patch, pointing furiously at three older Academy students. An overturned bucket lay near a tree. A rope ran from its handle to a branch several feet above the ground, where it had become hopelessly tangled.

One of the older boys was laughing. "You tied it so high nobody would've walked into it anyway."

"It was supposed to fall when you passed!" Naruto shot back.

"Then maybe you should've put it where people pass."

Naruto opened his mouth, found no immediate answer, and turned toward the tree with the stubborn expression of someone who intended to prove the laws of physics were negotiable.

Kamui watched him study the rope. Naruto paced around the trunk, looked up, took three steps back, and squinted at the branch as though it might reveal a secret if he stared long enough. He wasn't giving up on the trap. He was trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

That, Kamui could respect.

The climbing, however, looked less promising.

Naruto hooked one foot against the bark and hauled himself onto the lowest branch. The older students stopped laughing long enough to watch. He climbed higher, tugged at the rope, and leaned out toward the knot that held the bucket line in place.

"Hey, Naruto," Kamui called.

Naruto glanced down. "Kamui? What're you doing here?"

"Walking. Eating. Watching a man conduct a dangerous experiment with a tree."

"It's not dangerous!"

The branch bent under Naruto's weight.

Kamui lowered the last bite of his bun. "I'd move closer to the trunk if I were you."

"I've got it!" Naruto insisted, stretching another inch.

The wood cracked.

Naruto's confidence lasted exactly as long as it took him to look down. He scrambled for the trunk, caught the rope instead, and slipped. The line tightened around his ankle as he fell, leaving him hanging upside down with his hair pointing at the ground.

For a moment, the field went quiet.

Then one of the boys doubled over laughing.

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?" Naruto yelled, swinging as he tried to reach the knot.

"Not at first," Kamui admitted, already coming through the gate. "I was worried about the branch. But you've got to admit the trap caught somebody."

"IT CAUGHT ME!"

"That's the part you may want to change next time."

Naruto made a noise that wasn't quite a word. Kamui stopped beneath him, checked where the rope had caught his ankle, and tested the line with one hand. The branch was still holding, but not by much.

"Quit wriggling. You'll make it worse."

"Then get me down!"

"Working on it."

Kamui braced Naruto's shoulders while he reached for the knot. It had been tied tightly enough to hold, although the loop around Naruto's ankle was a poor idea. He eased it loose, keeping Naruto supported until the boy could get his feet under him. They landed together in the dirt, Kamui with one knee down and Naruto clutching his ankle.

"Can you stand?" Kamui asked.

"Of course I can." Naruto sprang up, took one step, and winced.

Kamui raised an eyebrow.

"…After a second," Naruto amended.

He sat on a stump while Kamui checked for swelling. The rope had left a red mark, but Naruto could move his foot, and after a little rest he insisted it was fine. Kamui didn't argue about the injury; he did insist that Naruto stay off the tree for the afternoon.

The three older students were still nearby. One started to say something about the failed prank, but his friend tugged at his sleeve. Whatever they'd come to the field to do, they'd apparently had enough entertainment for one day. They left by the far path, occasionally looking back and laughing among themselves.

Naruto glared after them. "They'll tell everybody."

"Probably," Kamui said.

"Great."

"Next time, don't give them a story this good."

Naruto turned on him. "You were laughing too!"

"I was. Then I got you down. A man's allowed to be useful and amused at the same time."

"That's a terrible rule."

"You're welcome to challenge it when you become Hokage."

That earned Kamui a reluctant snort. Naruto rubbed his ankle again and looked up at the dangling rope.

"The knot held, though."

Kamui followed his gaze. "It did. Where'd you learn to tie it?"

"Practiced. The first few kept coming apart."

"Then you've solved one problem." Kamui pointed at the bucket lying in the mud. "Now you need to figure out where a person will actually walk, and how to keep the trap from catching the idiot who built it."

"Hey!"

"I'm speaking as an expert. I nearly hit myself with a falling plank last week."

Naruto looked interested despite himself. "Really?"

"Masato saw the whole thing. I haven't heard the end of it."

"Ha! So you're an idiot too."

"On occasion. I try to schedule it around work."

Naruto laughed properly then, loud enough that a bird took off from the fence. Kamui let him enjoy it. After a while Naruto climbed down from the stump, tested his ankle, and declared himself ready to do something else. Kamui suggested they avoid trees and ropes for the rest of the day. Naruto objected to the ropes part on principle, but he followed him out of the field.

They ended up beside a shallow pond near the edge of the training grounds. Someone had worn a narrow path down to the water, and smooth stones lay scattered along the bank. Naruto kicked at one, sending it into the pond with a heavy splash.

"That's one way to do it," Kamui said.

"What?"

"Throw a stone." Kamui crouched, picked out a flat pebble, and sent it skimming across the surface. It bounced three times before sinking.

Naruto stared. "How'd you make it do that?"

"Find a flat one. Throw it low, almost sideways."

Naruto searched the bank, selected a stone roughly the size of his palm, and hurled it with all his strength. It hit the water like a dropped brick.

Kamui winced. "The fish have surrendered."

"I threw it low!"

"You threw it hard. Different problem."

Naruto tried again. This time the stone struck the water at an angle and bounced once before disappearing. He turned so quickly that his sandal slipped on the damp bank.

"Did you see that?"

"I did. Try another."

They spent the next quarter hour sorting through stones. Naruto preferred the biggest ones until he realized they didn't skip well. He experimented with different grips, copied Kamui's sideways motion, and once managed to send a stone straight behind himself. Kamui ducked and suggested that future attempts be aimed toward the pond.

"It's harder than it looks," Naruto complained.

"Most things are."

"You make it look easy."

"That's because I spent a lot of time being bad at it."

Naruto considered this while turning a flat stone between his fingers. "Where?"

Kamui looked across the pond. It was an ordinary question, and he had no ordinary answer. He could remember throwing stones as a child, but the place where he'd learned wasn't anywhere Naruto could visit.

"Far from here," he said. "There was a stream near where I grew up."

"Bet I could beat you there."

"You'd have to learn how to throw first."

Naruto stuck out his tongue, took aim, and released the stone. It skipped twice, the second bounce smaller than the first.

"Two!" he shouted. "I got two!"

Kamui held up two fingers in acknowledgment. "And you didn't hit me. Excellent afternoon."

"Next one's gonna be five."

"That's ambitious."

"I'm going to be Hokage. Five's nothing."

The next stone sank without a bounce. Naruto stared at the spot where it vanished, then immediately bent down to find another.

Kamui settled on a dry patch of grass. He'd expected Naruto to lose interest once the novelty wore off, but the boy kept at it, occasionally asking for advice and just as often ignoring it. When he managed two skips again, he celebrated almost as loudly as he had the first time. A little later he threw three, though the last bounce was so faint that Kamui had to lean forward to be sure he'd seen it.

Naruto spun toward him. "That counts!"

"I wasn't going to argue."

"You looked like you were thinking about it."

"I was thinking the pond might start charging us rent."

Naruto looked at the water, then at the pile of stones he'd collected. "We can come back tomorrow."

"Maybe. I've got work."

"Oh." Naruto scuffed the ground with his heel. "Right. The workshop."

"Daichi's going to want that cabinet delivered, and I doubt he'll accept 'I was throwing rocks' as an excuse."

"Your boss sounds strict."

"He is. Especially about getting paid for the work he does."

Naruto folded his arms. "Well, I get that."

Kamui glanced at him. "You certainly do."

Naruto noticed the look and grinned. "I haven't forgotten the rest of the money."

"I know. I've got a whole notebook to prove it."

"A whole notebook?"

"First page has your name on it."

Naruto's grin widened, though he tried to disguise it by reaching for another stone. "Better not lose it."

"Then you'd have to remind me what you paid."

"I would! Every single coin!"

He sent the stone across the pond. It skipped twice, then sank. Naruto watched the circles spread until they reached the reeds along the bank.

A bell rang somewhere in the village. Kamui stood, brushed grass from his trousers, and checked the sun. If he wanted to buy supper before the cheaper stalls closed, he needed to start back.

"I'm heading out. You should probably give that ankle a rest before you find another tree to fall out of."

"I didn't fall out," Naruto said. "I was hanging."

"An important distinction. I'll put it in the report."

"What report?"

"The one I'm not writing."

Naruto picked up a stone as if considering whether to throw it at him. Kamui backed out of range, laughing, and raised a hand in farewell.

"See you around, Naruto."

"Hey, Kamui!"

He stopped. Naruto was still standing beside the water, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the stone.

"Are you really working all day tomorrow?"

"Probably until afternoon. Why?"

"Just asking." Naruto glanced away. "I might come by sometime."

"Then come by. Just don't bring any traps into the workshop."

"No promises!"

Kamui left him to the pond and the small collection of stones. He could hear Naruto practicing again before he'd reached the path, muttering about keeping his wrist lower and shouting at the water when a throw went wrong.

A few minutes later, Naruto found a stone with a broad, smooth face. He turned it over twice, remembered the angle Kamui had shown him, and sent it across the pond. Three quick taps broke the surface before it disappeared beneath the reeds.

Naruto threw both arms into the air.

"HA! THREE!"

There was nobody left on the bank to applaud him. He didn't seem to mind. He searched for another stone.

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[abyssalmandate]

Kamui had been working at the carpenter's shop long enough to recognize the sound of trouble before he saw it. A plane scraping steadily across wood meant Daichi was in a reasonable mood. A plane stopping halfway through a stroke meant someone had done something stupid.

This morning, the scraping stopped just as Kamui stepped through the door.

"You're late," Daichi said.

Kamui looked over his shoulder at the pale sky. "I was beginning to think the sun and I had an understanding. Apparently you didn't consult either of us."

"The timber delivery comes early today."

"Then I'm perfectly on time for carrying timber."

"You're on time to sweep up yesterday's shavings. The timber's already here."

Kamui took the broom from its hook. "You could've saved some for me."

"I did. It's all over the floor."

Daichi returned to the board clamped to his bench, and Kamui set about sweeping. The workshop was cool at this hour, its open shutters letting in a breeze that stirred the fine dust along the windowsill. Someone had left a cup beside the back door. Kamui moved it out of the way before sweeping beneath the shelves, then collected the offcuts scattered near Masato's station.

He hadn't been asked to do any of that. It was simply easier to work when he knew where things were, and he'd discovered that a stray nail underfoot could ruin an otherwise pleasant morning.

Masato arrived carrying a cloth-wrapped parcel and a face that suggested he hadn't slept enough. He set the parcel down, stretched his shoulders, and caught Kamui eyeing it.

"Don't get excited. It's breakfast, not a present."

"Food is the finest kind of present."

"My wife packed too much again." Masato opened the cloth to reveal several rice balls and a small container of pickled vegetables. "She says I keep forgetting to eat when we're busy."

"An entirely unreasonable accusation," Kamui said, remembering Masato working straight through lunch two days earlier.

Daichi didn't look up. "Tell Hana she's right."

"I'll tell her you said that," Masato replied. "She'll be delighted to know someone agrees with her."

"She'll be less delighted when you bring the container home untouched."

Masato took a rice ball, then pushed the parcel toward Kamui. "Here. Before the boss starts counting what we've eaten."

Kamui accepted one with both hands. "I take back every complaint I've ever made about this place."

"You complained about the dust five minutes ago."

"Then I take back that one, too."

They ate standing beside the workbench while Daichi finished shaving the edge of a cabinet door. When he held it against the frame, it settled into place without catching. Kamui had spent much of the previous afternoon trying to understand how such a small adjustment could make so much difference. He leaned closer to inspect the gap.

"See?" Daichi asked.

"Barely. Which I suppose is the point."

"Get the other door. The hinge holes are marked."

Kamui put down his breakfast and went to fetch it.

By midmorning the three of them were busy enough that conversation came in scraps. Masato needed an extra pair of hands to turn a heavy table. Kamui fetched clamps, carried finished pieces into the yard, and nearly walked into a stack of chair legs while trying to keep an eye on a wobbling shelf. Daichi caught the shelf before it tipped.

"Watch where you're going."

"I was watching the shelf."

"Try watching your feet as well."

"Two things at once? You ask a lot of an apprentice."

"I'm beginning to see that."

The afternoon delivery had to be ready before the customer arrived, and Kamui found himself spending nearly an hour sanding the same table leg. Daichi had shown him how to feel for rough patches with the grain rather than simply running his palm over the surface. It was slow work, and Kamui was certain he'd already found every imperfection when Daichi came by, turned the leg slightly, and pointed out another.

Kamui stared at the spot. "That wasn't there a moment ago."

"Wood moves when you stop looking at it. Very troublesome material."

"I'm glad we're finally being told its secrets."

Daichi handed him the sanding block again. Kamui accepted it with a sigh and got back to work.

Hana arrived shortly before lunch with a basket hooked over her arm. She was younger than Daichi, with flour on one sleeve and a loose strand of hair escaping the knot at the back of her head. Masato heard her at the door and immediately put down the measuring square he'd been searching for.

"You came all this way?" he asked.

"I was delivering bread to the shop on the next street. I thought I'd see whether my husband remembered to eat what I packed."

"He did," Kamui said before Masato could answer. "There were witnesses."

Hana looked him over with open curiosity. "So you're Kamui. Masato says you've been helping here."

"Helping is a generous description. Yesterday I held a cabinet door while Daichi explained all the ways I could ruin it."

"That sounds like Daichi." She smiled at the older carpenter. "How are you?"

"Busy," Daichi said, though he made room for her basket on the clean end of the bench. "You should sit before Masato makes you carry something."

"I've carried more than him today already."

"See?" Masato told Kamui. "This is what I come home to."

"A hardworking wife who brings you lunch?" Kamui asked. "Terrible circumstances. You have my sympathy."

Hana laughed, and Masato gave him a look of elaborate betrayal. Daichi, apparently deciding the conversation had exhausted its usefulness, began clearing space for the food.

Lunch was rice, grilled fish, pickles, and bread from Hana's bakery. They sat on overturned crates just inside the yard, where the shade kept the afternoon heat at bay. For several minutes there was little to hear beyond the scrape of chopsticks and the occasional cart rattling past outside.

Hana was the first to break the silence.

"Masato says you're new to the village. Have you found a proper room yet?"

Kamui glanced at Daichi. "Depends how strict your definition of proper is."

"There's a roof," Daichi said.

"And a floor," Kamui added. "I'm living extravagantly."

"He's sleeping in the back room," Masato explained. "Until he can afford somewhere else."

Hana's expression softened, but she didn't make a fuss. "If you want to look at rooms, I know a woman near the bakery who rents one. I can't promise it'll be cheap."

"I might ask you about it when I've saved a little more." Kamui turned his cup between his hands. "I'm still figuring out how long I'll be here."

"Are you planning to leave?" she asked.

It was a fair question. Kamui had arrived with a bag, a few coins, and very little resembling a plan. He could name dangers waiting somewhere in Konoha's future, but he still couldn't tell Hana where he expected to be living next month.

"Not planning to," he said at last. "I came looking for somewhere I could make a living. This place has been kinder to me than I expected."

"Don't tell him that," Masato said, nodding toward Daichi. "He'll put you on deliveries every day."

"I already do deliveries every day."

"Then he'll find more."

Daichi took another bite of fish. "There's a wardrobe going out on Thursday."

Kamui groaned, and the conversation turned to the difficulty of moving large furniture through narrow streets. Hana offered the name of a customer who might want a repaired counter; Masato wrote it down before he forgot. By the time lunch ended, Kamui had learned that Hana's bakery had a leaking shutter and that Masato had promised to fix it twice.

"Three times," Hana corrected as she packed the empty containers.

"Two and a half," Masato said. "I started looking for the hinges."

"Then perhaps Kamui should come by and do it," she said.

"I've barely learned which end of a hammer to hold."

"Good," Daichi said. "Masato can supervise you while I get some work done."

Hana left them arguing over whether a half-finished promise counted as progress. Kamui went back to the table leg, and the rest of the afternoon passed in the comfortable irritation of ordinary work.

Near closing time, Daichi asked him to help shift a finished cabinet toward the front of the shop. They carried it carefully between them, pausing twice to avoid catching its corners on the doorframe. Once it was in place, Daichi checked the lock, then reached into his pocket.

A small ring of iron keys landed on the counter.

Kamui looked at it, then at him. "Did you drop those?"

"No. Starting tomorrow, you'll open up."

Kamui glanced toward Masato, who was stacking tools near the back wall. "I thought Masato handled that."

"Masato has a delivery first thing in the morning. I'll be visiting the timber yard. Someone has to let the customer in when he comes for the cabinet."

"You want me here alone?"

"For an hour or two. The finished orders are marked, and the payment book stays under the counter. Don't agree to anything new without asking me."

Kamui picked up the keys. He knew which one opened the front doors; he'd watched Daichi use it often enough. The smaller one was for the store cupboard, and the third looked like it belonged to the rear gate.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Daichi gave him a measured look. "You show up. You listen when I correct you. And when you make a mistake, you tell me before I have to find it. That's enough to open a shop in the morning."

Kamui rolled the ring once around his finger, then stopped before it slipped off. "I was going to give you a very stirring speech about the responsibility you've placed in my hands."

"Save it for the customer. He likes to talk."

Masato came over to inspect the keys. "Don't let him convince you the cabinet's free."

"I'm not that easy to fool."

"Last week you bought a pastry because the baker said it was the last one."

"It was the last one."

"There were six more behind her."

Kamui considered that. "A very persuasive woman."

Daichi shook his head and returned to putting away the tools. Kamui slipped the keys into his pocket, where they knocked against the little notebook he'd bought for keeping track of Naruto's five-ryo repayment. He moved the notebook to his bag so the keys wouldn't bend its cover.

When they finally closed the shutters, Daichi checked the front latch and told Kamui to be there before the customer. Kamui promised he would. He stayed a few minutes longer to straighten the workbench, partly because it needed doing and partly because he wanted to be certain he'd remember where everything belonged in the morning.

On his way to buy supper, he took the street beside the Academy. A pair of children raced past him with paper windmills, followed by a woman calling after them to slow down. Farther along, a group of students were arguing over who'd done best in practice. One claimed he'd hit the target every time; his friend seemed determined to prove otherwise.

Kamui reached the bridge and spotted Naruto perched on the low stone railing, dropping pebbles into the water below. The boy had his schoolbag at his feet and was concentrating so fiercely on choosing a stone that he didn't notice Kamui until he was almost past.

"Hey," Kamui called.

Naruto looked up. "Oh! You're done working?"

"Unless Daichi's followed me here with another table."

Naruto glanced theatrically up and down the street. "No tables. You're safe."

"Good. I'd hate to have to wrestle one into submission."

Naruto shifted along the railing to make room, though Kamui remained standing beside it. He watched the boy flick a pebble into the river. It sank at once.

"Any better at skipping stones?" Kamui asked.

"Three yesterday," Naruto said promptly. "I got three even after you left."

"I believe you."

"You weren't there."

"Do you want me to call you a liar?"

"No!" Naruto frowned at him. "You're supposed to be impressed."

"I'm extremely impressed. I might put up a sign at the workshop."

"Don't do that."

Kamui laughed. Naruto tried another pebble and managed a single hop before it disappeared. He clicked his tongue, then searched the railing for a better one.

"Hey," Naruto said after a while. "Do you actually like your job?"

"Most days."

"Even when you're carrying boards everywhere?"

"Not especially then." Kamui rubbed his shoulder at the memory of the morning's delivery. "But it's good to finish something and see it being used. Daichi's been making furniture for years. People keep coming back because the things he builds last."

Naruto glanced toward the houses beyond the river. "Sounds like a lot of work for something nobody notices."

"Some people notice. They just don't shout about it."

"That's boring."

"Maybe. Though if a chair collapses under somebody, I imagine you'll hear plenty of shouting."

Naruto barked a laugh. "I'd definitely hear that."

"That's why we make sure it doesn't."

Naruto leaned forward, balancing on his hands. "When I'm Hokage, everyone'll know my name."

"I expect they'll have a hard time forgetting it."

"Exactly!" He hopped down from the railing, satisfied that Kamui had finally understood the obvious. "And then nobody'll be able to tell me what to do."

Kamui raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought the Hokage had to listen to everybody's complaints."

Naruto stopped. "That's different."

"Paperwork, too. Mountains of it."

"Don't ruin it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Naruto snatched up his bag and slung it over one shoulder. He had Academy the next day, he announced, and Iruka would be angry if he arrived late again. Kamui didn't ask how often that had happened. Naruto was already backing toward the street, walking sideways so he could keep talking.

"Hey, Kamui! You working tomorrow?"

"Early. Daichi's letting me open the shop."

Naruto's eyebrows rose. "He trusts you with that?"

"Apparently. I'm as surprised as you are."

"Don't break anything!"

"I'll do my best. You try not to get caught pulling another prank."

"Can't promise that!" Naruto shouted, then turned and ran toward the Academy road.

Kamui watched him dodge around a vegetable cart, apologize loudly to the seller, and vanish into the evening crowd. He headed back toward the workshop with supper on his mind and tomorrow's customer already beginning to worry him. Before going inside, he checked the ring of keys once more.

The front door was his responsibility in the morning. He'd better remember to bring the payment book out before the customer arrived.
Author's Note

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[abyssalmandate]

Kamui discovered that being trusted with the workshop keys came with one immediate disadvantage: there was no longer anyone else to blame if he slept late.

He woke before sunrise anyway. For several minutes he lay on his narrow bedding in the room behind the workshop, listening to a cart rattle along the street. Then he remembered the keys hanging beside his pillow and sat up so quickly he nearly struck his head on the shelf.

"Excellent," he muttered. "Responsibility has already ruined my sleep."

Outside, the street was still cool. He opened the front doors, wedged them in place, and began bringing yesterday's finished stools out beneath the awning. He had just lifted the third when one leg scraped against the doorframe.

Kamui stopped, examined the fresh mark, and sighed. "We will never speak of this."

"You're talking to furniture now?"

Masato stood in the entrance with a wrapped breakfast in one hand. His hair was still damp, and he looked far too pleased to have caught Kamui in an embarrassing moment before work had even begun.

"Only the ones that listen," Kamui said. "Good morning."

Masato leaned over to inspect the stool. "Daichi will notice that."

"Then I hope he notices how early I opened the shop first."

"He'll notice both. That's the trouble with him."

Kamui carried the stool to the bench and fetched a cloth. The scrape was shallow, but he knew enough now not to leave a finished piece looking careless. Masato put down his breakfast and joined him, offering a little oil and advice without being asked. By the time Daichi arrived, the mark had nearly disappeared.

The older carpenter paused just inside the doors. He looked at the swept floor, the stools arranged outside, and the two younger men bent over the same piece of furniture.

"Something broken?" he asked.

"Not anymore," Masato replied.

Daichi's eyes settled on Kamui. "You opened early."

"Wanted to make a good impression."

"You made one yesterday. That's why I gave you the key." Daichi set down his satchel. "Don't start coming in before dawn just because you think you have to prove something."

Kamui hadn't expected that. "I was awake anyway."

"Then make yourself breakfast next time." Daichi picked up the stool, turned it once, and ran his thumb over the repaired spot. "You caught this before a customer did. Good."

Masato waited until Daichi was out of earshot before nudging Kamui with his elbow. "There. Two compliments in one morning. He's getting soft."

"I'm standing right here," Daichi called from the back.

"His hearing's still excellent," Kamui observed.

They settled into work. A customer had ordered a low cabinet for a narrow kitchen, and Daichi wanted the joints fitted before the next delivery of timber. Kamui measured while Masato marked the boards. The first two cuts went smoothly. The third did not.

"That's crooked," Masato said.

Kamui held the board at arm's length. "It's expressive."

"It's crooked."

"Some people appreciate character."

"Not people paying for a cabinet."

Kamui set it aside for scrap. He'd learned that arguing with a measurement was an expensive habit.

By late morning, a messenger arrived with news that the timber cart had broken an axle outside the village. The delivery would be delayed until the following day, perhaps longer. Daichi checked what they had left, rearranged the afternoon's work, and eventually sent Masato to finish an errand across town.

Kamui offered to help, but Daichi shook his head. "The cabinet can wait. You've been here since dawn. Go get some air."

"Is that an order?"

"If I say yes, will you stop hovering over the lumber?"

"Immediately."

"Then yes."

Kamui washed his hands, changed out of his dusty work shirt, and left before Daichi could find another job for him.

He had been in Konoha long enough to recognize a few streets, but there were still entire districts he'd barely seen. He chose the road toward the Academy, following the sound of children through the midday bustle. A vendor was arguing with a customer over the price of persimmons. Two shinobi passed overhead, taking the rooftops as casually as ordinary people used the pavement. Kamui watched them go and nearly walked into a woman carrying a basket of laundry.

"Sorry!" he said, stepping aside.

"Watch where you're going," she answered, though not unkindly.

"Working on it."

A few streets later, he spotted a little girl crouched beside a storage shed. Her bright red ball had rolled beneath the raised floorboards, well beyond the reach of her short arms. She was trying to coax it out with a twig that bent every time it touched the ball.

Kamui slowed. "Need another pair of hands?"

The girl looked at him, then at the ball. "It went all the way back."

"That's usually where lost things go. Give me a moment."

He knelt and stretched an arm under the shed. His fingertips brushed dirt, a pebble, and something that might once have been a leaf. The ball remained just beyond reach.

"Can you get it?" she asked.

"Of course."

He reached farther. His sleeve snagged on a splinter.

"Eventually," he amended.

The girl crouched beside him, watching with enormous seriousness as he pulled free, took off his jacket, and tried from the other side. He could have fetched a longer stick, but by then the ball had become a matter of professional pride. At last his fingers caught its rubber surface and rolled it toward the opening.

The girl seized it with both hands. "You got it!"

"Never doubted myself." Kamui sat back on his heels, brushing grit from his forearm. "Not once."

"You said 'oh no' twice."

"Those were technical observations."

She giggled and ran off, holding the ball tight against her chest. Kamui stood, inspected the dirt on his trousers, and wondered whether Daichi would believe he'd spent his afternoon off fighting a shed.

"You could have used the broom leaning against the wall."

The voice came from behind him.

Kamui turned to find a young shinobi carrying a stack of exercise books under one arm. He had brown hair tied back and a scar running across the bridge of his nose. The man's expression was polite, but he was clearly trying not to laugh.

Kamui glanced at the broom. It had been there the entire time.

"I was testing a more advanced technique," he said.

"Did it work?"

"Eventually. I wouldn't recommend it to beginners."

The shinobi smiled. "At least the girl got her ball."

"And I got half the street on my clothes. Fair exchange."

He recognized the man, of course. Iruka Umino was difficult to mistake once you knew the face. Kamui had expected that seeing familiar people in person would become less strange with time. It hadn't. Still, there was no reason for Iruka to know any of that.

The shinobi shifted the books in his arm. "You work around here?"

"Carpenter's workshop, a few streets over. Daichi's place."

"Oh, I know it. He repaired one of the Academy's cabinets last year." Iruka glanced at Kamui's hands, where the stubborn dirt had settled into old scratches. "That explains the sawdust."

"Is it that obvious?"

"There's some in your hair."

Kamui reached up, found a small curl of wood caught behind his ear, and flicked it away. "I thought I'd washed all of that out."

"Occupational hazard, I suppose."

They started walking in the same direction. Iruka's destination was clearly the Academy gate; Kamui had no particular destination at all, so he matched the other man's pace for a while.

"I'm Iruka," the teacher said.

"Kamui."

"I've heard your name recently."

Kamui looked at him. "That sounds dangerous."

"Someone at the market mentioned a new worker who tried to carry too much timber in one trip."

"An incident greatly exaggerated by witnesses."

"So you didn't drop it?"

"I dropped very little of it."

Iruka laughed, then adjusted the notebooks threatening to slip from his arm. Kamui reached over to steady the stack before the top few could slide onto the road.

"Thanks," Iruka said. "These are the students' assignments. I'd rather not explain why half of them came back covered in mud."

"What do you teach?"

"At the Academy. Mostly children who think they already know everything."

"That sounds familiar. I work with someone who thinks he knows everything about wood."

"Is he wrong?"

"Annoyingly, no."

The Academy walls came into view. Beyond them, someone was shouting loud enough to carry over the roofs. Iruka slowed and closed his eyes for a moment.

Kamui heard the voice too. He knew it at once, although the words were indistinct.

"Long day?" he asked.

"It was supposed to be a quiet one."

"Those are the dangerous kind."

Iruka looked toward the gate. "One of my students has been trying to convince the others that a particular prank counts as stealth training."

"Does it?"

"Not when he announces it first."

Kamui couldn't help laughing. That sounded like Naruto, all right.

Iruka glanced at him. "You find that funny?"

"A little. I wouldn't want to be the person cleaning up afterward."

"Neither would I. Unfortunately, I'm usually that person."

They reached the gate just as a pair of students hurried past, arguing about who had won a sparring match. Iruka stepped aside to let them through and called after one of them to stop running in the corridor. The boy slowed for precisely three steps before disappearing around the corner.

Kamui watched him go. "You've got your hands full."

"Most days." Iruka shifted the books again, then looked back at Kamui. "Still, they're good kids. Even the troublesome ones."

"I believe you."

Iruka studied him briefly, perhaps deciding whether that was a polite answer or a sincere one. Whatever he concluded, he offered a small nod.

"I should get back before someone decides the classroom needs redecorating."

"Good luck. If the furniture suffers, you know where to find me."

"That's a comforting thought, actually."

They parted there. Kamui continued along the road, passing the Academy wall and a row of shops selling notebooks, sweets, and cheap practice kunai. He bought a skewer of grilled dumplings from a stall, then found himself turning back toward the workshop sooner than he'd intended.

By the time he returned, Masato was already there, unloading a small bundle of fittings from his errand.

"You look filthy," Masato said.

"Had an encounter with a shed."

"Did you win?"

"Decisively."

Masato eyed the dirt on his knees. "Wouldn't have guessed."

Daichi emerged from the back room and held out a cloth without asking for an explanation. Kamui took it, grateful, and began wiping his hands before he touched anything in the workshop.

"Enjoy your afternoon?" Daichi asked.

"Met an Academy teacher. Nice fellow. Apparently his students are giving him trouble."

"Students usually do." Daichi inspected the fittings Masato had brought. "Put those on the high shelf, will you?"

Kamui took the bundle. "You know, for a man who ordered me to take the afternoon off, you've found work for me remarkably quickly."

"You came back."

"Fair point."

As Kamui reached for the shelf, he heard a distant shout from the direction of the Academy. The words were impossible to make out, but he could imagine the owner of the voice well enough.

He shook his head and returned to the fittings. If Naruto had found a new way to trouble Iruka, Kamui would probably hear about it soon. For now, the shelf was waiting, and Daichi would certainly notice if he put anything in the wrong place.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

By the time Masato arrived, Kamui had already managed to ruin the tea.

It wasn't an impressive achievement. The kettle had been on the stove for less than ten minutes, and he'd followed what he considered a perfectly reasonable method: put leaves in hot water, wait until it looked like tea, then pour. Apparently there were more complicated principles involved.

Masato took one sip, stared into his cup, and put it down.

"Did you boil the leaves with the water?"

"I wanted to make sure they understood the assignment."

"They surrendered. You can stop now."

Kamui inspected his own cup. The liquid was dark enough to conceal a small animal. "I was going for something strong."

"You made something that could strip paint."

Daichi came in while Kamui was carrying the kettle toward the back door. He took one look at Masato's expression and asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing serious," Kamui said. "Just a disagreement between me and breakfast."

Daichi held out a hand for the kettle. He sniffed it, tipped a little into the sink, and set it aside. "Next time, ask before using the good leaves."

"There are good leaves?"

"There were."

Masato made a strangled noise behind his cup. Kamui decided the safest response was to fetch the broom.

The shop was already warm despite the early hour. Sunlight fell through the open doors in long rectangles, picking out the sawdust that had settled overnight. Kamui swept around the benches while Masato checked the clamps on a cabinet they had glued the previous afternoon. Daichi went over the day's orders with a stub of charcoal and a scrap of wood. There was a dining table ready for collection, two stools that needed their seats fitted, and a shelf someone wanted shortened by an amount that changed every time the customer visited.

"The shelf first?" Kamui asked.

"The table first," Daichi said. "The man collecting it has a wagon coming before noon. If we make him wait, he'll spend the afternoon telling everyone we're slow."

"Wouldn't want him spreading lies."

"Exactly. We have enough true things he could say."

They moved the table outside together. It was heavier than it looked, with a thick top that caught awkwardly against the doorframe. Kamui took the rear end while Masato guided the front. On Daichi's instructions they stopped, shifted their grips, and tried again rather than forcing it through.

A month ago, Kamui would have insisted he could carry his end without help. He still thought he probably could. He'd also learned that a scratched table meant doing the finish twice, and Daichi's lectures on wasted effort could last longer than the work itself.

The customer arrived just before midday with a wagon and an opinion about every piece of furniture he passed. He inspected the table legs, crouched to examine the underside, and ran a hand over the polished top. Daichi answered his questions with the patience of a man who knew the exact point at which patience became a business expense.

At last the customer paid. Kamui helped secure the table beneath a canvas sheet, tugging twice at the rope before stepping back.

"That's not going anywhere," he said.

"Don't say that," Masato muttered.

"Why?"

"Because now he'll hit a pothole and blame us."

The wagon rolled away without incident. Daichi counted the payment at the workbench, separated a few coins, and handed them to Kamui.

"Your wages. And before you ask, yes, you're supposed to take them."

Kamui accepted the coins. "I wasn't going to ask."

"You were looking at them."

"I look at money with affection. It's a rare visitor."

"Then treat it well," Daichi said. "We need more nails tomorrow, and your lunch isn't included in the shop's expenses."

Kamui pocketed the money. He had enough for a decent meal without having to calculate whether he'd regret it in the morning. That was still a pleasant novelty.

Masato was sorting offcuts when Kamui reached for his jacket.

"Going out?"

"Celebrating the continued survival of my employment."

"Bring back food."

"You didn't enjoy the tea?"

"I want to live long enough to complain about tomorrow's."

Daichi waved Kamui away before he could answer. "Go. We can manage without you for an hour."

Kamui stepped into the street, the coins making a faint sound in his pocket. It was busy enough that he had to give way to a handcart at the corner. A woman argued over the price of radishes. Two Academy students chased each other past a fabric shop until an older boy caught one by the collar and told them to watch where they were going. Kamui waited for a gap in the traffic and headed toward Ichiraku.

Teuchi looked up when he pushed aside the curtain.

"Afternoon. The usual?"

"I've only been here a handful of times. How do I already have a usual?"

"You keep ordering the same bowl."

"That sounds like evidence collected against me."

"Then you should vary your habits."

"Not today. Miso, please."

Kamui took a stool near the end of the counter. The stand was quiet between the lunch crowd and the students getting out of class. Teuchi worked steadily, lifting noodles from the water and preparing the toppings without needing to watch his hands. Kamui found himself studying the movements. There was something familiar about a person who could perform a task smoothly after years of practice. Daichi was much the same with a plane or a saw.

"Finished a big order?" Teuchi asked.

"A dining table. Nobody lost a finger, the customer paid, and I didn't drop anything. I'm calling it a successful day."

"Sounds like one."

"I was tempted to ask for a raise."

"Already?"

"I decided to wait until I can make tea without frightening my coworkers."

Teuchi laughed and set a bowl in front of him. Kamui picked up his chopsticks, inhaled the steam, and forgot about work for a few minutes.

The first rush of heat was exactly what he'd wanted. He was halfway through the noodles when Teuchi glanced toward the street, then at the empty stool beside Kamui.

"Naruto usually comes through after class," he said.

"Usually?"

"When he has enough money. Or when he can talk me into giving him a little extra."

"Ah. A skilled negotiator."

"Depends on whether you count volume as a skill."

Kamui snorted into his broth.

He hadn't seen Naruto since their last afternoon together. The boy had been talking about training, about the Academy, and about how he would eventually become Hokage with the confidence of someone who hadn't yet been introduced to the paperwork. Kamui had wondered if Naruto might turn up at the workshop again. He hadn't wanted to make a habit of seeking the boy out every day, though. There was a difference between being available and deciding how someone else should spend his time.

"He's doing all right?" Kamui asked.

"As far as I can tell. He came in yesterday and tried to convince me that eating two bowls would make him twice as fast."

"Did you believe him?"

"I told him he'd have to prove it somewhere other than my counter."

"That sounds fair."

Teuchi set down a small dish of pickles. "He talks about you, you know."

Kamui looked up. "Does he?"

"Mostly complains."

"Excellent. I've made an impression."

"He said you keep telling him to pay what he owes."

"Because he insists on paying what he owes."

Teuchi considered that, then gave a small nod and returned to cleaning his knives. He didn't ask for an explanation, and Kamui didn't offer one. The matter was between him and Naruto, who had made an extraordinary amount of noise over five ryo.

Kamui finished eating, paid, and left enough change for the extra pickles. Teuchi protested that he hadn't charged for them, but Kamui told him to put it toward the next time a certain blond customer arrived short of coins. He escaped before the cook could argue.

At the Academy, the final bell sent a wave of children into the street. Naruto came out near the middle of the crowd, talking loudly enough that a few heads turned. Kiba shouted something after him. Naruto answered without slowing, then took off toward Ichiraku.

He had a few coins in his pocket, earned from a small errand that morning, and he had been thinking about ramen since before lunch. The thought improved his mood considerably.

"Old man Teuchi!" he called, pushing through the curtain. "One miso ramen! And make it a big one!"

"Good afternoon to you too," Teuchi said.

Naruto climbed onto his usual stool. He reached for his money, then glanced at the place beside him. It was empty, but there was a damp ring on the counter where a bowl had recently sat.

"Busy today?" he asked.

"Not especially."

"Anyone interesting come by?"

Teuchi kept his face carefully neutral. "Interesting how?"

"You know. Loud. Weird hair. Thinks he's funny."

"That describes several people I know."

"Carries wood around like it's treasure."

"Ah. Kamui was here earlier."

Naruto turned toward him. "He was?"

"Had lunch and went back to work."

"Oh." Naruto shifted on the stool and pushed his coins into a neater stack. "Figures. He's always working."

"He said you'd probably be hungry after class."

"I'm always hungry after class!"

"Yes, I've noticed."

Naruto looked at the coins again. "Did he leave anything?"

Teuchi raised an eyebrow. "What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing! I just thought maybe he—" Naruto stopped and scowled at the counter. "Forget it. Is my ramen ready?"

"Almost."

Teuchi turned back to the pot. He was smiling, but Naruto was too occupied with pretending not to watch the entrance to notice.

The bowl arrived a moment later, fragrant and hot. Naruto attacked it with his usual enthusiasm. Halfway through, he remembered the notebook Kamui had bought to keep track of their ridiculous debt arrangement. He wondered whether his latest payment had been written down properly. Knowing Kamui, there would be some stupid comment beside it.

He decided to visit the workshop tomorrow and check.

"Something funny?" Teuchi asked.

Naruto realized he had been grinning into his noodles. "Nope. Just thought of something."

"Then finish before it gets cold."

Naruto did, and for once he didn't ask for another bowl. He had other plans for the few coins left in his pocket.

Iruka arrived at Ichiraku after sunset, his shoulders stiff from a long afternoon of marking assignments. Teuchi poured him tea while the water for the noodles heated. They exchanged the ordinary complaints of people whose working days had been longer than intended.

"I saw Naruto heading this way earlier," Iruka said.

"He ate and left. Paid for it himself, too."

"That's good."

"He was asking after that carpenter you met."

"Kamui?"

"Seems they've been spending time together."

Iruka wrapped his hands around the cup. He remembered the man who had helped a little girl retrieve her ball, and the way he had spoken to Naruto without either condescension or the strained politeness some adults used around him.

"I've only met him once," Iruka said. "But Naruto seems comfortable with him."

"He does."

Iruka nodded. He would still keep an eye on the friendship; that was part of looking after his students. For now, he was relieved that Naruto had another place to go when the Academy doors closed.

Teuchi placed the noodles in front of him. Iruka thanked him and began eating before the broth cooled.

Across the village, Kamui was on the workshop roof with a cup of tea that Masato had made under Daichi's supervision. The difference was embarrassing. He took another sip and looked down at the street, where the last few customers were hurrying home.

The trapdoor creaked behind him.

"You planning to sleep up here?" Masato asked.

"Depends. Is Daichi still upset about the leaves?"

"He's counting what's left."

"Then I may need to leave the village."

Masato sat beside him, careful to keep his own cup level. For a while they watched a pair of cats quarrel over something in the alley below. One cat won the argument by stealing the food and fleeing over a fence.

"Daichi says the customer with the shelf is coming back tomorrow," Masato said.

"Did he finally decide how short he wants it?"

"He's bringing his wife to decide."

Kamui lowered his cup. "We're doomed."

"Probably."

They stayed until the tea was gone. When they climbed down, Kamui remembered to bring both cups with him. He also made a mental note to ask Masato how long tea leaves were supposed to sit in hot water.

Tomorrow seemed as good a time as any to learn.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The customer arrived at the workshop carrying a shelf under one arm and his wife's measurements in the other.

Kamui had been warned about this man. Masato had spent most of breakfast predicting that the shelf would return with a different set of instructions, while Daichi had simply sharpened his pencil and made room on the bench.

"Morning," the customer said, setting the shelf down. "We've decided."

"That's good news," Kamui replied.

"We want it shorter."

"Even better. By how much?"

The man unfolded the paper. There were three numbers on it, two crossed out, and a fourth squeezed into the margin. He looked at the sheet for a long moment before saying, "My wife says you'll understand."

Masato turned away so abruptly that Kamui knew he was laughing.

Daichi took the paper, read it, and asked the only sensible question. "Where is the shelf going?"

"In the kitchen."

"Against which wall?"

"The one by the window."

"And how wide is that space?"

The customer stared at him. Daichi handed back the paper.

"Go home and measure the wall. The actual wall. Then come back."

"Couldn't you just cut a little off?"

"I could. Then I could put it back when your wife decides it was the wrong little."

The customer considered that, admitted it was possible, and carried the shelf away again. Kamui waited until he was safely out of earshot before leaning against the bench.

"Masterful. You sent a man home with the exact same shelf he brought in."

"And saved us half a day," Daichi said. "Get the ladder. The storage shed still leaks."

That was how Kamui ended up on a roof before lunch, with Masato passing up wooden pegs and Daichi watching the ladder from below. Rain had found its way through the shed's rear corner during the last storm, leaving a dark stain along one of the beams. The damaged section was sound enough to hold for the moment, but Daichi wanted it replaced before the next heavy shower.

Kamui pulled out a stubborn peg, nearly lost his balance when it finally came free, and grabbed the beam with both hands.

"Everything all right?" Masato called.

"Perfectly. The roof and I were having a disagreement."

"Who won?"

"Ask me when I'm on the ground."

Daichi moved the ladder a few inches and planted his foot against its base. "Stop wrestling it. Ease the joint apart from the other side."

Kamui shifted his grip and followed the instruction. The timber loosened without another fight.

"See?" Daichi said.

"I had it under control."

"You were about to throw the old beam into the neighbor's washing."

Kamui glanced over the edge. A row of clean sheets hung beyond the fence, close enough to make the accusation uncomfortably plausible.

"I was considering an alternative delivery service."

"Consider putting the new beam in properly."

By the time they finished, the sun had climbed above the roofs. Kamui came down with dust in his hair and an ache in his shoulders, while Masato tested the repaired corner from inside the shed with a bucket of water. Nothing dripped through. Daichi inspected the joint, nodded once, and went to fetch the delivery book.

There was no ceremony to it. A finished repair meant another job could begin.

"Table for the Nara residence," Daichi said, turning the book toward Kamui. "It's paid for. They want it under the veranda, not left at the gate."

Kamui read the address. "And you're sending me alone?"

"You've been opening the shop on your own. I think you can manage a table."

"Such faith. I'm moved."

"Don't be moved until you've tied it to the cart."

The table was smaller than the one they had sold the previous day, but its legs made it awkward to maneuver through the doorway. Kamui fetched the handcart, wrapped the corners with spare cloth, and secured the piece with rope. Masato checked one knot, tightened another, and stood back.

"Try not to bring it home," he said.

"Would that count as a failed delivery?"

"Daichi would call it an expensive walk."

Kamui pulled the cart into the street. The wheels complained over the uneven stones, especially where roots had pushed up the road beside older houses. He learned to take the worst patches slowly. At a narrow crossing, he stopped to let two Academy students run past, one chasing the other with a rolled sheet of paper.

The boy in front shouted that the paper was his. The girl behind shouted that he had copied her homework. Neither looked particularly concerned about the cart until Kamui called, "Careful! I've only got one spare table, and you don't want to meet it at speed."

They swerved around him without slowing. The girl caught the boy at the next corner.

Kamui watched the argument begin in earnest, then resumed walking. He had spent enough mornings inside the workshop that a delivery still felt like an excuse to see parts of the village he didn't know. The streets changed gradually as he headed toward the Nara district: fewer shops, wider plots, and trees old enough to make the roofs beneath them look temporary.

The address led him to a low gate set into a wooden fence. He checked the delivery note again, called out, and waited. A woman from the household opened the gate, confirmed the order, and directed him around the side of the house.

"Mind the step by the pond," she warned. "It catches everyone."

"I appreciate the warning. I'd hate to introduce your new table to the fish."

She gave him a puzzled look before returning to her work.

Kamui negotiated the step without incident and brought the table beneath the veranda. The courtyard was quieter than the road, with a patch of shade spreading from an enormous tree and a small pond tucked into one corner. He loosened the rope and checked the legs for scuffs. There were none. Daichi would have been pleased, although he probably would have expressed it by finding something else to inspect.

"Put the longer side against the wall."

The voice came from behind him. Kamui turned to find a man standing near the veranda, his dark hair tied back and his hands tucked loosely into his sleeves. He looked as though he had come outside for a break and discovered an errand waiting for him.

Kamui glanced at the table. "This side?"

"That's the one."

He shifted it into place. The man considered the result for a moment, then pointed toward the pond.

"A little farther from the edge. My son has friends over sometimes."

"Friends who can't walk around furniture?"

"Friends who don't always remember furniture is there."

Kamui moved the table another handspan. "Sounds familiar."

"Do you have children?"

"No. I've met a few."

That earned the faintest suggestion of amusement. The man stepped forward to test the table with one hand, pressing at the corners and checking that it sat level. He didn't appear to be looking for faults so much as making sure the household had received what it ordered.

"Good work," he said.

"I'll pass that on to Daichi. He'll pretend he wasn't waiting to hear it."

"You work for him?"

"For the moment. I'm Kamui."

"Shikaku Nara."

Kamui recognized the name immediately. He kept his expression ordinary, though his thoughts were anything but. The Nara clan's head was standing in front of him, examining a dining table in his own courtyard. No war council, no elaborate strategy, just a man making sure a piece of furniture wouldn't wobble when his family used it.

"Nice to meet you," Kamui said.

Shikaku looked at the handcart, then at Kamui's dusty sleeves. "You're new to the village."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You stopped to look at the old cedar on the way in. Most people here walk past it without noticing."

Kamui glanced toward the gate. He had indeed stopped beneath the tree, mostly because its branches were so wide that he'd wondered how the nearby wall had survived its roots.

"Maybe I'm easily impressed."

"Maybe." Shikaku didn't sound convinced or particularly interested in arguing. "Where were you before Konoha?"

"Traveling. Not anywhere I'm eager to return to."

It was true enough, though it left out more than it explained. Shikaku regarded him briefly, then looked back at the table.

"Daichi's taking on help again, then. He used to complain that training apprentices took longer than doing the work himself."

"He still complains."

"That sounds like him."

"He also makes us redo anything he thinks we rushed. I'm beginning to suspect the complaints are part of the training."

"Probably are."

A breeze stirred the leaves overhead. Somewhere inside the house, a door slid shut and a voice called for Shikaku. He answered without raising his own voice, then turned back to Kamui.

"Did Daichi send a receipt?"

Kamui took the folded paper from his pocket and handed it over. Shikaku checked the amount, signed the delivery slip, and returned it.

"Tell him the table fits. And thank him for moving the legs inward like we asked."

"Will do."

Kamui reached for the cart. One wheel had settled into a shallow groove beside the veranda, and the handle jerked when he tried to pull it free. Before he could lift it, Shikaku nudged a loose stone out of the wheel's path with his sandal.

"There."

"Thanks. That would've been an embarrassing end to an otherwise professional visit."

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I appreciate your discretion."

Shikaku watched him take the cart around the pond. "Kamui."

He turned.

"If you're delivering to this district again, use the lane behind the tea shop. Fewer roots in the road."

Kamui considered the route he'd taken, the bouncing cart, and the rope he'd had to tighten twice. "That would've been useful an hour ago."

"It'll be useful next time."

"Fair point."

He thanked him and headed out through the gate.

On the return journey, Kamui found the lane behind the tea shop. It was smoother, shorter, and wide enough for a cart to pass without threatening anyone's ankles. He was mildly offended by how much easier the trip became.

When he reached the workshop, Masato was planing a length of wood near the open doors. He looked up at the empty cart.

"Good. You didn't lose the table."

"Even better. I brought back directions."

"To the Nara house?"

"To a road that doesn't try to shake the cart apart. Apparently everyone else knew about it."

"Of course they did."

Kamui handed Daichi the signed slip. The older carpenter checked it, tucked it into the order book, and asked whether the family had been satisfied.

"They were. Shikaku Nara said to thank you for adjusting the legs."

Daichi grunted, which Kamui had learned could mean anything from approval to mild indigestion. Then he took another look at the slip.

"Shikaku signed it himself?"

"Is that unusual?"

"He's usually busy. Did he ask you questions?"

"A few. Mostly about the shop."

"Then you got off lightly."

Kamui leaned the cart against the wall. "Should I be worried?"

"No. Just don't assume a quiet man isn't listening." Daichi pointed toward the stack of boards beside the bench. "And since you're back, you can help Masato with those."

Kamui went to work. By the time the afternoon light began to slant across the floor, the Nara delivery had become one more completed entry in Daichi's book, wedged between a repaired stool and the measurements for a shelf whose owner still hadn't returned.

At the Nara residence, Shikaku found Yoshino setting a tray on the new table when he came back outside. She pressed lightly against one corner and seemed satisfied.

"It fits," she said. "Did they bring it this morning?"

"A little after lunch."

"And you were here to direct them, I suppose."

"Someone had to make sure it wasn't put in the pond."

Yoshino gave him a look. "You're exaggerating."

"Only slightly."

She poured tea, then noticed the signed delivery slip still lying beside his cup. "That carpenter you were talking to—was he the new one people have mentioned?"

"Kamui. Yes."

"Is he as loud as they say?"

"Not particularly. Though he does talk to strangers as if he's known them for years."

"That can be a good thing."

"Depends on the stranger."

Yoshino pushed his cup closer. "And what did you decide?"

Shikaku took a sip before answering. "That he knows how to carry a table without scratching it. Daichi will be happy about that."

"You noticed more than that."

"I usually do."

She shook her head and sat across from him. A few minutes later, a noise came from inside the house, followed by Shikamaru protesting that he had already finished his chores. Yoshino called back that he could prove it by putting away his things.

Shikaku settled farther into the shade while the argument continued. The new table held their tea without so much as a wobble. Whatever else the village's new carpenter might turn out to be, at least Daichi had taught him that much.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The Nara district had a way of making a working afternoon feel like a holiday. Its streets were broad enough for a handcart, its walls shaded by old trees, and nobody seemed particularly interested in shouting across the road. Kamui had spent most of the morning hauling timber through the market, where three different vendors had tried to recruit him to move their crates. By comparison, this was paradise.

Unfortunately, paradise still had a cart with a crooked wheel.

He stopped outside the Nara residence and crouched to examine it. The wheel had developed an irritating squeak halfway through the trip. It wasn't enough to stop him, but he could already imagine Daichi's expression if he brought it back in worse condition than he'd taken it out.

A servant came through the gate carrying a folded receipt. "Everything's been checked. The master said to make sure you got this."

"Excellent. Tell him his furniture has better manners than most people I meet."

The servant considered that for a moment, then decided not to ask. "Would you like some tea before you go?"

Kamui glanced at the sun. Daichi had given him a generous delivery window, but generous was not the same as infinite. "I appreciate it, but I should get this cart back before its wheel resigns."

The servant looked down. "It was making that noise when you arrived yesterday."

"Then it has seniority over me. Even more reason to show respect."

He tucked the receipt into his pocket and started down the lane, pulling the empty cart carefully around a patch of exposed roots.

"It's the axle, not the wheel."

Kamui turned. Shikaku Nara was standing under a tree near the boundary wall, a small stack of papers in one hand. He had the mildly inconvenienced expression of a man whose work had followed him outdoors.

"You're going to have to narrow that down," Kamui said. "I've been blamed for a lot of things today."

"The squeak. The axle's dry."

Kamui gave the cart an experimental tug. It squealed as though offended by the attention. "So it is. I was hoping it was developing a personality."

"That would make two of you."

Kamui looked at him for a moment, then laughed. "There he is. I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere."

Shikaku stepped away from the tree and glanced at the wheel. "There's a shed around the corner. You can use a little oil if you want. Otherwise you'll announce your arrival all the way back to the market."

"That bad?"

Shikaku pulled the cart half a pace. A long, miserable squeal drifted down the empty lane.

"Right," Kamui admitted. "Point taken."

The shed belonged to the Nara household and contained an assortment of tools that looked as though they had been left in exactly the places their owners preferred. Shikaku found a small oil tin without searching. Kamui tipped the cart onto its side and worked the oil into the axle while Shikaku held the handle steady.

"You do this often?" Kamui asked.

"Fix carts?"

"Appear whenever someone has a problem and tell them precisely what they're doing wrong."

"At home, mostly. My wife has strong opinions about how useful that habit is."

"Useful?"

"That's one of her opinions."

Kamui tried the wheel again. It turned smoothly, without complaint. He straightened, wiped his fingers on a rag, and offered the tin back. "Much better. Daichi might even let me keep my job."

"Your employer seems sensible."

"He is, which is why I spend so much time trying to convince him otherwise."

Shikaku's mouth twitched. He returned the tin to its shelf and took up his papers, but he didn't immediately go inside.

"You mentioned yesterday that you hadn't been in the village long," he said. "Where did you learn to work with wood?"

"Mostly here. Before that I knew which end of a hammer was dangerous. I was wrong about how many ends."

"Daichi hired you without experience?"

"He hired a pair of arms. The rest of me came attached." Kamui looked toward the gate. "I've been trying to make the arrangement worthwhile."

Shikaku considered him. "Most people would make themselves sound more impressive."

"Most people haven't watched me try to carry a wardrobe through a doorway."

"Did you manage it?"

"Eventually. The doorway was less enthusiastic."

There was a brief silence while a breeze moved through the branches above them. Shikaku shuffled the papers in his hand, and Kamui noticed several pages covered in the kind of dense writing that promised an unpleasant afternoon for whoever had to read them.

"Your work looks worse than mine," Kamui said.

"It usually is."

"What do you do, exactly?"

"Think about problems other people would prefer not to have."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It can be. Particularly when people keep creating new ones."

Kamui eyed the stack. "And here I thought I had a difficult job. At least a crooked table doesn't argue with me."

"You've never met my son."

"Is he the one who finds everything troublesome?"

Shikaku raised an eyebrow. "You've met Shikamaru?"

"Not properly. I've heard the name around the market. Hard to forget when people keep using it in the same sentence as 'lazy.'"

"He's capable when he wants to be."

"That sounds like something a father says while hoping the boy wants to be capable more often."

Shikaku gave him a look of weary agreement. "Something like that."

A wooden hoop rolled into the lane, followed by two children who were much too occupied with their game to notice the cart. Kamui caught the hoop before it struck the wheel. The smaller child skidded to a halt, while the older one hovered behind him, trying to look as though neither had done anything wrong.

"Looking for this?" Kamui asked.

The smaller child nodded.

"Then I'd recommend keeping it away from that cart. It's already in a bad mood."

He handed the hoop back. The children thanked him and hurried away, arguing about whose turn it was to chase.

Shikaku watched them disappear around the corner. "You seem comfortable with children."

"Some of them. Others can smell weakness. Especially if you're carrying snacks."

"Speaking from experience?"

"I've recently become acquainted with a boy who can detect free food from a frightening distance."

"Sounds useful."

"Until you're the one paying."

Shikaku didn't ask for a name, and Kamui didn't volunteer one. They had spoken twice now, but that didn't make them old friends. Kamui was beginning to like the man's company precisely because he didn't insist on filling every silence.

A voice called from inside the residence, asking whether Shikaku intended to finish his paperwork before dinner. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"That," he said, "is my cue."

"Good luck with the thinking."

"Good luck with the cart."

Kamui started down the lane. The axle rolled quietly behind him, and he made it almost to the corner before Shikaku spoke again.

"Next time, bring the wheel in before it gets that bad."

Kamui glanced back. "Next time, I'll bring a table. They complain less."

Shikaku shook his head and went inside.

By the time Kamui reached the workshop, he had missed the quiet part of the afternoon. A wardrobe stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by wood shavings, and Daichi was trying to shift it onto a pair of supports without scraping the finished side. Masato had one hand braced against the cabinet and the other occupied with a block of timber.

"Perfect timing," Masato said as Kamui came through the door. "We've been waiting for a third pair of hands."

"That's a suspicious way to greet someone who's been working all day."

"Then you should have come back sooner."

Daichi didn't look up. "If you're finished discussing it, take the left side."

Kamui set down the cart handle, washed the oil from his hands at the basin, and joined them. The wardrobe was heavier than it looked, particularly with its doors still attached. Daichi counted them in, and together they lifted it onto the supports. One corner caught briefly against the timber block; Masato adjusted it before the finish could scrape.

"There," Daichi said, stepping back. "Now we can get at the lower hinge."

Kamui rubbed his shoulder. "I thought furniture was supposed to stay in one place."

"It will, once we finish fixing it," Masato said.

Daichi checked the hinge and frowned. "Someone's put the wrong screw in here."

"Wasn't me," Kamui said at once.

"I know. This was repaired years ago."

"I'd still like my innocence recorded."

"Get the narrow screwdriver."

Kamui fetched it. While Daichi worked on the hinge, Masato inspected the wardrobe's doors and found a hairline split near the bottom rail. The three of them spent the next hour making a repair that would be almost invisible once the cabinet was returned to its owner. There was no grand revelation in the work, only the usual frustrations: a stubborn screw, a clamp that kept slipping, and Masato discovering that Kamui had put his pencil behind his own ear and spent ten minutes accusing someone else of taking it.

"I'm surrounded by criminals," Kamui declared when Masato pointed it out.

"You're surrounded by people with eyes," Daichi replied.

At closing time, Daichi checked the delivery receipt and nodded at the neat signature. Kamui mentioned the squeaking axle and the oil he'd borrowed at the Nara house.

"Good that you dealt with it," Daichi said. "Tomorrow we'll take it apart and check the pin. Oil won't help if the metal's worn."

Kamui made a face. "I was hoping my repair would earn me the afternoon off."

"It earned you another job."

"That seems to be how this place works."

Daichi passed him a chisel and a whetstone. "Before you put those away, clean the edge. You nicked it this morning."

Kamui sat on the step outside, where the last of the daylight reached the stone. He'd watched Daichi sharpen tools often enough to believe he understood the motion. After several passes, however, the edge looked no better than when he'd begun.

"Don't press so hard," Daichi said from the doorway.

Kamui glanced up. "I thought you were finished supervising me."

"I thought you'd learned how to hold a chisel."

Daichi took the tool, showed him the angle against the stone, then returned it. Kamui tried again, keeping his wrist steady this time. The difference was immediate: the blade moved smoothly rather than catching.

"That's better," Daichi said. "You'll ruin it if you keep changing the angle halfway through."

Kamui tested the edge against a scrap of cedar. A thin shaving curled away.

"Oh, that's satisfying."

"Then finish the others while you still remember how."

"Your praise always comes with a catch."

"It's called running a workshop."

Across the village, Naruto sat on the swing outside the Academy, one sandal scraping a shallow groove in the dirt. He had failed another written exercise. Not by enough to make a spectacular disaster of it, which somehow made the result more annoying. He'd understood half the questions and guessed the rest. The guesses, apparently, had not impressed Iruka.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Naruto looked up. Iruka stood at the edge of the playground holding two ice pops. He offered one over, and Naruto took it before remembering he was supposed to be sulking.

"I'm not hiding," Naruto said.

"I didn't say you were."

"Good. Because I'm not."

Iruka sat on the neighboring swing, careful not to spill the melting ice onto his sleeve. They ate for a while, watching the last few students cross the Academy grounds.

"Your answers were better than last week," Iruka said eventually.

Naruto scowled at the ground. "Still failed."

"Yes. But you got more of them right. That's worth noticing."

"Doesn't count if I can't pass."

"It counts toward learning how to pass."

Naruto gave him a sideways look. "That sounds like something a teacher would say."

"I'll try not to make a habit of it."

That earned a reluctant snort. Naruto bit off the last piece of his ice pop and stared at the stick.

Iruka changed the subject. "I heard you've been spending time with a carpenter."

Naruto's head came up. "Who told you?"

"It's not a secret, Naruto. I've seen him around the village."

"Oh." Naruto considered that. "He's pretty weird."

"I gathered as much."

"He talks too much. And he thinks he's funny."

"Does he?"

"Sometimes," Naruto admitted. "Don't tell him I said that."

Iruka smiled into his ice pop. "I'll guard the secret."

Naruto swung his feet forward, then back. "He actually let me pay him back, you know. For food."

"That's good."

"Five ryo. I earned it myself."

"I remember you telling me."

"Yeah, but he took it. I thought he'd say it didn't matter." Naruto frowned, trying to explain why that had surprised him. "He said if I made a promise, he'd let me keep it."

Iruka looked at him, then nodded. "Sounds like he took you seriously."

"Of course he did. I was serious." Naruto said it with such offended certainty that Iruka had to hide a laugh.

The Academy grounds were nearly empty now. Iruka stood and dropped both sticks into a nearby bin.

"Come on. Walk with me as far as the main street. You can tell me which questions gave you trouble."

Naruto groaned. "You said we were done talking about the test!"

"I never said that."

"You tricked me!"

"I'm a teacher. We have our methods."

Naruto complained the whole way to the gate, but when Iruka asked about the first question, he answered. He even remembered part of the explanation from class. By the time they reached the street, they were arguing about a second question, and Naruto was insisting that Iruka's handwriting on the board had been the real problem.

Back at the workshop, Kamui finished the last chisel and laid the tools out for Daichi to inspect in the morning. His fingers ached, and there was a smear of oil on his sleeve from the cart, but the edges were clean. He locked the front door with the key Daichi had entrusted to him and checked it twice before heading toward the small room he called home.

Tomorrow he would have to help take the cart apart. He wasn't looking forward to it. Still, if he learned to fix the axle properly, perhaps the next delivery wouldn't announce his approach to the entire village.


Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

By midmorning, the workshop had become an oven with a roof. The windows were open, the doors were propped back, and not a breath of air seemed interested in passing through either. Daichi had abandoned his usual vest an hour ago. Masato was using a scrap of thin plywood as a fan whenever he thought nobody was watching.

Kamui dragged a repaired chair into the patch of shade beside the workbench and tested its legs against the floor. No wobble. He tried the backrest, then pressed his weight against one arm. The joint held.

"That's the last one," he said.

"That's the last one you've checked," Daichi corrected. "There are four more by the door."

Kamui looked over his shoulder. "I was enjoying the feeling of accomplishment. You could've given me another ten seconds."

"You've had ten seconds. Check the others."

Masato, sitting cross-legged with a box of screws between his knees, lifted his makeshift fan. "I'll remember you fondly if the heat kills you."

"Thank you. Please tell everyone I died doing what I loved."

"Complaining?"

"Being underappreciated."

Daichi reached past them for a rag. "Both of you can talk after those chairs are loaded."

The chairs belonged to a teahouse near the training grounds. Their owner had wanted the repairs finished before the afternoon crowd arrived, and Daichi had promised they would be. Kamui had learned that a promise from Daichi was less a prediction than an instruction to everyone else in the building.

He checked the remaining joints, wrapped cloth around the chair legs so they wouldn't scrape against one another, and helped Masato stack them onto the handcart. The cart's left wheel turned quietly now. Yesterday's work on the axle had finally paid off, though Kamui still gave it a suspicious glance before he took the handles.

Daichi noticed. "It won't fall off."

"You said that about the old wheel."

"I said it probably wouldn't fall off."

"It was a memorable distinction."

Daichi handed him the delivery slip. "Take the main road. Don't stack anything on top. And get a signature before you come back."

"Anything else?"

"Don't race anyone."

Kamui stared at him. "Why would that even be on your list?"

"Because I know you."

Masato laughed from the doorway as Kamui pulled the cart into the street.

The road was busy with the ordinary inconveniences of a hot day. A woman carrying two baskets of vegetables refused to surrender the shade beneath an awning, forcing Kamui to steer around her. A boy chased a rolling hoop between the legs of pedestrians until his mother caught him by the collar. At a crossroads, Kamui stopped to let a delivery team pass and spent the next minute wondering whether there was any sensible reason for Konoha to have so many hills.

He had already made deliveries for the workshop, including the troublesome trip to the Nara residence. He was beginning to recognize which streets gave a loaded cart room to turn and which shopkeepers would object if he stopped outside their doors. It wasn't glamorous knowledge, but it had saved him from backing a wagon through a vegetable stall twice this week.

As he approached the training grounds, the sound of practice weapons carried over the low wall beside the road. Kamui slowed enough to watch a group of young shinobi moving between wooden posts. One missed a step, recovered, and tried the sequence again while an instructor called out a correction.

A few yards farther on, another pair were arguing about whose fault it was that their exercise had failed. Their teacher appeared content to let them argue until they ran out of breath.

Kamui shook his head. "And I thought Masato was difficult to work with."

Something green streaked across the far end of the road.

He looked up. It was gone by the time he'd focused on it. A moment later the same streak flashed between two trees, stopped so abruptly that dust lifted around its feet, and resolved into a man wearing a green jumpsuit.

The man turned toward him with the alert expression of someone who had just discovered an opportunity.

"You there!"

Kamui checked behind himself. Nobody else was close enough to qualify. "I'm hoping you mean me. Otherwise this is going to be awkward."

"Indeed!" The stranger planted his hands on his hips. His eyebrows were astonishing. "I saw you approaching with that burden and could not help admiring your determination!"

Kamui glanced at the cart. "It's four chairs."

"Four chairs carried with unwavering purpose!"

"They're being delivered to a customer. He paid us."

"Even better! A man who honors his responsibilities!"

Kamui considered correcting him again, then decided the stranger seemed to be having a wonderful time. "You make carpentry sound much more exciting than it is."

"Work done wholeheartedly is never dull!"

"That depends on how many hours you've spent sanding the same table."

The man threw back his head and laughed. Several students on the training ground turned to look, but none appeared surprised.

"I am Might Guy!" he announced, extending a hand.

"Kamui." He shook it and discovered that Guy had the grip of someone who could crush a walnut without noticing. "Nice to meet you. Would you mind letting go before my fingers become part of the delivery?"

Guy released him at once. "Forgive me! My enthusiasm sometimes outruns my manners."

"That's a fast runner."

"It is!"

A younger voice came from behind Guy. "Guy-sensei! You stopped in the middle of our lap!"

A boy in a matching green outfit ran up, breathing hard but standing as straight as if he'd just reported for inspection. His bowl-cut hair and thick eyebrows made Kamui glance from him to Guy and back again.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected from meeting Might Guy and Rock Lee. Somehow, the reality was louder.

"Lee!" Guy swept an arm toward the cart. "Observe this young man. Even in this heat, he carries out his work without abandoning it."

Lee examined Kamui with complete seriousness. "Those chairs look heavy."

"They're heavier than they look," Kamui admitted. "Mostly because the cart has an unfortunate habit of finding every stone in the road."

"Then your arms must be very strong!"

"Strong enough to make a living. Not strong enough to do whatever your teacher was doing a minute ago."

Lee's face brightened. "Guy-sensei was practicing high-speed laps! I have been trying to keep up with him all morning."

"Trying?" Kamui looked at Guy. "You couldn't slow down a little?"

"Of course I could," Guy replied. "But Lee asked me not to."

Lee nodded vigorously. "If Guy-sensei runs slowly for my sake, I'll never learn to run faster!"

There was no self-pity in the answer. Lee said it as if the matter were obvious, and Guy regarded him with unmistakable pride. Kamui had seen plenty of young shinobi training since he arrived in Konoha, but there was something particularly stubborn about this one.

"Fair enough," Kamui said. "Just make sure you drink some water before you collapse. I'd hate to have to explain to your teacher why his student melted."

"I have water!" Lee produced a flask from a pouch as proof.

"Excellent. You may be the most prepared person I've met today."

Guy leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with a fresh idea. Kamui recognized that expression a moment too late.

"Kamui! Since our paths have crossed, how would you like a friendly race?"

"To where?"

"The end of this street!"

Kamui looked down at the cart, then at the road ahead. "You do see the furniture?"

"Indeed!"

"And you understand that I'm not going to throw it off the cart just to run?"

"Of course!"

Lee raised his fist. "A race against a worthy handicap! Guy-sensei, what an inspiring challenge!"

Kamui pointed at him. "You're not helping."

Guy's grin widened. "What do you say?"

Kamui should have said no. Daichi had, in fact, specifically told him to say no, though Kamui was beginning to suspect the old man possessed an unreasonable gift for predicting trouble.

Then he looked at Guy, who seemed genuinely delighted by the prospect of racing a carpenter pushing chairs down a public road, and an idea occurred to him.

"If I win, you help me unload the cart at the teahouse."

"Agreed!"

"And if you win?"

"You will join Lee and me for a bowl of ramen someday!"

Kamui thought of the coins in his pocket. "I hope you mean we're each paying for our own."

Guy laughed. "A reasonable condition!"

They moved to the side of the road while Lee inspected the route. Kamui tightened the ropes around the chairs, checked the wheel one last time, and warned a pair of pedestrians that they might want to give the cart some space. He wasn't about to injure someone for a joke.

Lee stood at the starting point with one arm raised. "Ready?"

Kamui leaned into the handles. "As I'll ever be."

"Begin!"

Guy disappeared.

Kamui managed three strides before the green blur reached the far end of the street, turned around, and came racing back toward him.

"YOU'RE DOING SPLENDIDLY!" Guy shouted as he passed.

"YOU'VE ALREADY WON!"

"THE FINISH LINE STILL AWAITS YOU!"

A fruit seller looked up from arranging his display. "What's happening?"

"Bad judgment!" Kamui called back.

He kept pushing. Guy ran another circuit around him, not because he needed to, but apparently because standing still while someone else raced offended his sense of sport. Lee jogged alongside the cart for a short stretch, cheering with enough conviction to draw people out of nearby shops.

"Your wheel is holding up very well, Kamui-san!" Lee announced.

"Please don't say that out loud! It can hear you!"

At the corner, Kamui slowed sharply for a woman carrying a basket. She gave him a suspicious look as he waved her across, then watched Guy run past for the third time.

"Are you boys making deliveries or causing trouble?" she demanded.

"Deliveries," Kamui said.

"Training!" Guy declared.

The woman shook her head. "Same nonsense, different clothes."

By the time Kamui reached the end of the street, he was sweating through his shirt. Guy stood beside the finish line, fresh as ever, while Lee applauded the cart's arrival as though it had survived a long and dangerous expedition.

Kamui bent over the handles to catch his breath. "I want it recorded that I never stood a chance."

"Yet you finished!" Guy said.

"Because the customer is waiting for his chairs."

"A splendid reason to persevere!"

Lee offered him the flask. Kamui accepted a drink, careful not to empty it, and handed it back.

"Thanks. Both of you should come by the workshop sometime. Daichi would enjoy meeting you."

"Would he?" Lee asked.

Kamui pictured the old carpenter watching Guy challenge a workbench to a test of endurance. "Eventually."

Guy laughed and accompanied them the short distance to the teahouse. The owner was waiting outside with his sleeves rolled up and an expression that suggested he had heard the commotion coming.

"Those my chairs?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Kamui pulled the delivery slip from his pocket. "Four repaired, joints reinforced, and all accounted for."

The owner inspected the first chair, pressed on the seat, and nodded. Guy offered to carry the entire stack inside at once. Kamui declined before anyone could test whether the doorway was wide enough.

Instead, Lee took one chair, Guy took another, and Kamui carried the remaining two in separate trips. The teahouse owner signed the slip and thanked them, though he looked faintly bewildered by the amount of enthusiasm required to deliver four pieces of furniture.

Outside, Guy stretched his arms overhead. "A fine afternoon! Lee, shall we resume our training?"

"Yes, Guy-sensei!"

Kamui checked the empty cart. "Before you go, one question. Do you two always train this hard?"

"Harder tomorrow!" Lee said immediately.

Guy nodded. "That is the plan."

Kamui watched them for a moment. The boy's legs were clearly tired, and Guy had noticed; when they started back toward the training grounds, the older shinobi shortened his stride just enough for Lee to stay beside him. He didn't announce the adjustment. Lee didn't ask for it.

"Good luck," Kamui called.

Guy turned while still running backward. "And to you, Kamui! We shall race again!"

"Next time I'm bringing an empty cart!"

"Then I shall bring a heavier challenge!"

"That's not what I meant!"

They vanished around the corner, Lee's enthusiastic reply still audible long after the green uniforms disappeared.

Kamui stood there with his delivery slip in hand, wondering how he was going to explain any of this to Daichi. He considered leaving out the race entirely. Unfortunately, half the street had witnessed it, and gossip in Konoha traveled faster than a handcart.

When he finally returned to the workshop, Masato was carrying a bucket of water through the yard.

"You're late," Masato said. "Did the wheel break again?"

"No. The wheel was excellent."

"Then what happened?"

Kamui parked the cart and held up the signed slip. "I met a man who thinks everything in life should be a race."

Masato stopped walking. "Green clothes? Eyebrows?"

"You know him?"

"Everybody knows him." Masato looked at the cart, then back at Kamui. "Please tell me you didn't race him."

From the workbench, Daichi said, without looking up, "He raced him."

Kamui opened his mouth, thought better of it, and began untying the empty ropes.

Daichi finally raised his eyes. "Did you damage the chairs?"

"No."

"The cart?"

"No."

"Did the customer sign?"

Kamui passed him the slip.

Daichi read it, set it aside, and pointed toward the stack of timber waiting in the shade. "Good. There's still work to do."

Masato waited until the old man had turned away. "Who won?" he whispered.

Kamui picked up a plank. "The man without four chairs."

Masato laughed so hard he nearly spilled the bucket.


Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

Kamui still had time to get back to the workshop before Daichi arrived. At least, he did until Hana brought another tray of bread to the bakery window.

He stopped outside. The crust on one of the rolls had split open, and it was still giving off steam.

"That should be illegal," he said.

Hana looked up and spotted him.

"Kamui! Come in before you stand out there arguing with the bread."

"You can't put that in the window and expect a man to keep walking," he told the baker.

Hana looked up from behind the counter. "Morning, Kamui. If you're lodging a complaint, you'll have to come inside."

"I was hoping to settle it out here. I'm already late."

"Then stop studying the bread and buy some."

Hana lifted the cloth from a tray of fresh rolls. The crusts were still giving off steam, and he had been trying not to look hungry since the moment he arrived. She selected one from the tray and offered it to him.

"Here. Tell me whether this batch needs more salt."

Kamui hesitated. "Shouldn't I pay first?"

"This one is on me. You and Masato have been working late all week."

"Is this a bribe to get the shutter fixed?"

"Would it work?"

"On Masato? Immediately."

He accepted the roll, conceding that arguing with Hana was unlikely to improve his situation. The first bite was soft and warm, with just enough sweetness to make him stop worrying about the day's work for a moment.

"Masato married remarkably well."

Hana folded her arms, looking pleased with herself. "I know."

"I should remind him."

"He needs reminding about the shutter, not his marriage."

Kamui bought two more rolls to take back, wrapping them before he could be tempted to eat them as well. Hana added a third, smaller one and asked him to remind Masato about the bakery shutter.

"He still hasn't fixed it?"

"He's found the hinges. Apparently that was the difficult part."

"I'll pass on your congratulations."

"Pass on the message. He can have congratulations when it closes."

Kamui tucked the parcel beneath his arm and promised to deliver both it and the warning.

He had barely gone halfway to the workshop when he noticed a little boy struggling with a bucket of water. The bucket was nearly as wide as the child's torso, and every step made the water slosh against its sides. The boy's arms trembled under the weight, but he kept moving with his jaw clenched in stubborn determination.

Kamui slowed beside him.

"Need a hand?"

The boy immediately shook his head. "I can do it."

The handle had left red lines across the child's fingers. Kamui glanced down the street, looking for an adult who might be waiting for the water, but the boy was already preparing to lift it again.

So Kamui nodded toward the bucket.

"How far are you taking it?" Kamui asked.

"Home. Just around there." The boy pointed with his chin, unwilling to let go of the handle. "I said I'd bring it."

"Then let's get it there. Put it down a moment before you lose the rest on your sandals."

The child obeyed reluctantly. Kamui unwrapped the clean corner of the bread parcel and folded the paper around the handle, giving his small hands a broader surface to grip. The boy tested it, looking suspiciously at Kamui when it proved more comfortable.

"I can still carry it myself."

"I heard you the first time. I'm going this way."

They walked together. The boy stopped once more before the corner, setting the bucket down with a splash and pretending to examine something in the road. Kamui waited, then moved a loose stone from the path while the child recovered his breath.

"You could've carried it faster," the boy said accusingly.

"Probably. But I wasn't the one who promised to bring it home."

The boy thought that over while catching his breath, then lifted the bucket again.

When they reached the house, his mother hurried out at the sight of the two of them. Her expression changed from concern to surprise as the boy proudly raised the bucket, spilling one final splash of water onto the ground.

"Oh! You didn't have to help him," she told Kamui. "I'm sorry if he troubled you."

Kamui smiled. "He didn't. I just walked beside him."

The boy stood taller, as though the distinction mattered enormously.

"I carried it myself!"

His mother looked at the bucket, then at her son. Her smile softened.

"You certainly did. Come inside and wash up before you get water everywhere."

The boy hurried indoors, already telling her how he had carried the bucket all the way without anyone taking it from him. Kamui waved and continued toward the shop. At the corner he checked the parcel beneath his arm. One roll had been squashed against the other; he would have to claim that one before Masato noticed.

By the time Kamui reached the workshop, Daichi had arrived. The old carpenter was waiting near the workbench, examining a stack of boards that needed to be cut before noon.

"Breakfast took longer than you expected?" Daichi asked, eyeing the wrapped bread.

"A child had a bucket. It's a longer story than it sounds."

"Tell it while you work." Daichi pushed the first marked board toward him. "These need cutting before noon."

Kamui set the bread on a clean cloth and joined Masato at the bench. He was halfway through explaining the bucket when Daichi interrupted—not to complain about his timing, but because he'd lined up the saw on the waste side of the wrong mark. Kamui checked the pencil lines again, corrected his grip, and let the story wait until the board was cut.

Masato was complaining about the heat and the number of orders they had received. Kamui sympathized while handing him the next board, which Masato accepted with the expression of a man who had been betrayed by his closest friend.

When Masato reached for the bread, Kamui passed along Hana's message. Masato stopped with the roll halfway to his mouth.

"Did she say how angry she was?"

"She fed me. I wouldn't risk making her angrier."

Masato put the roll down and fetched the hinges from his tool tray.

Daichi examined the hinges and set them beside the collection book. "Take those over before lunch. Kamui can hold the shutter while you fit them."

Masato looked at Kamui. "Congratulations. Now you're involved."

The shutter took longer than the two of them expected. Its lower edge had swollen in the rain, and the hinges alone wouldn't make it close. Kamui steadied it while Masato pared the catching edge, both of them trying to keep the shavings out of the bakery window. Hana put a cloth over the nearest tray and made them clean the sill before declaring the job finished.

Back at the shop, Masato tested his own sore shoulder and warned Kamui that he would remember who had brought the message. Kamui gave him the flattened roll. It seemed the least he could do.

The afternoon grew busy as customers arrived to check on their orders. Kamui carried a repaired stool out to a waiting merchant, helped Masato shift a heavy cabinet away from the doorway, and delivered a small table to a neighboring shop. By the time the last customer left, his arms ached and his shirt clung uncomfortably to his back.

Daichi sent him out once more for the fittings needed on tomorrow's order. Kamui took the list from the counter, checked that his own money was in a separate pocket, and left Masato to finish the sweeping.

In the market, Kakashi Hatake was waiting for a fish seller to finish wrapping his dinner when a vegetable merchant called across the street.

"Kamui! Daichi's nails are in. Tell him I sent them over."

A young man carrying a bundle of fittings raised a hand in acknowledgment. He stopped to let two children squeeze past a crate, caught the smaller one when he stumbled, and sent them on with a warning about the cart approaching behind them. Then he shifted the crate out of the narrowest part of the walkway, with more effort than he appeared willing to admit.

"Mind your hands with those fittings," the merchant called.

"I'd prefer to have them attached to a cupboard, too," Kamui called back.

Kakashi watched the man recover his bundle. He had seen him around the market before, usually dusty, often carrying something awkward. Daichi's new helper, then. The name belonged to a face now.

"Anything else?" the fish seller asked.

Kakashi turned back to the counter. "No, that's everything."

He paid, took his dinner, and went on with his errands. The carpenter had already disappeared around the corner.

By the time evening settled over Konoha, the workshop had finally grown quiet. Kamui finished sweeping the floor, returned the tools to their places, and checked the last order before Daichi dismissed him. The old carpenter inspected the cleaned workbench, then slowly surveyed the room.

Kamui waited. He had been working there long enough to recognize the expression.

"Well?"

Daichi glanced toward him. "What?"

"You're looking around. I assumed you were about to tell me what I've done wrong."

"Must I always have a complaint?"

Kamui raised his eyebrows. "You've complained every day since I started working here."

"And you've given me plenty to complain about."

"Exactly. I was beginning to think it was a tradition."

Daichi examined the floor once more before giving a slow nod.

"No complaints today."

Kamui stared at him, then put one hand against the workbench as though he needed its support. "I need to sit down."

"Why?"

"I'm overwhelmed. I wasn't prepared for this level of approval."

Daichi rolled his eyes and headed toward the door. "Don't get used to it. I'll find something tomorrow."

"I knew it. This was a test."

"It was a day of work. You passed."

Kamui glanced at the cleaned bench, pleased despite himself, and put away the brush he'd been holding throughout the inspection.

Kamui had planned to eat at Ichiraku, but an early start the next morning made the quieter option more appealing. He bought supper from a nearby stall and ate it on the step outside the workshop, watching the last customers leave the market. He'd seen Naruto at Ichiraku often enough lately that the quiet felt unusual. Tonight, though, he was content to listen to the market closing around him.

By the time he finished eating, night had settled over Konoha. The lights in nearby houses glowed through the windows, and the village had quieted to the occasional footsteps of a passing shinobi or the distant voices of people finishing their evening errands. Kamui remained on the step with a small piece of scrap wood in his hand, turning it between his fingers as he considered what to do with it.

He hadn't intended to carve anything. His hands simply wanted something to work on after a day spent measuring, cutting, and sanding according to someone else's instructions. He picked up his knife and began shaving away small pieces, letting the shape emerge without deciding in advance what it should become.

Gradually, the wood began to resemble a little fox. One ear was too large, the tail was awkward, and the body leaned slightly to one side. Kamui held it at arm's length and gave it a critical inspection.

"If anyone asks," Kamui told the carving, "you're a fox."

"Who are you talking to?"

Daichi had stepped outside with a lantern. Kamui held up the little animal, and the carpenter bent to examine it in the light.

"That's an ambitious tail," Daichi said.

"The ears aren't exactly modest, either."

"Is this one for a customer?"

"Only if they're very nearsighted."

Daichi turned the carving to look at the grain. "You can take a little off the ear tomorrow, but don't take too much. You'll ruin the shape trying to make it perfect."

Kamui looked at him, surprised by the advice. Daichi had already started turning back toward the door.

"That's an unusually generous assessment of my abilities."

"Don't make me regret it."

Kamui tried to imagine the fox with a smaller ear. The knife hovered over the wood before he folded it and put it away. He would look again in daylight; at this hour he was as likely to remove the ear entirely as improve it.

He slipped the carving into his pocket. A few loose shavings followed, and he shook them out onto the step before Daichi could discover a trail leading through the workshop.

From inside the workshop, Daichi called out, "Don't sit out there all night. We have work in the morning."

"I'm coming," Kamui called back.

Kamui brushed the last shavings from the step, picked up the lantern Daichi had left beside him, and went inside. Before bed he set the little fox on his shelf, where its oversized ear threw an absurd shadow against the wall.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The hardware list was still tucked beneath Daichi's teacup. He had meant to send Kamui out first thing, but the rain had continued through breakfast, and there wasn't much point in bringing back a packet of nails soaked through the paper.

The timber delivery hadn't come either. Daichi had already moved two orders to the following day, and Masato was occupying himself with a drawer repair at the far bench. When Kamui offered to help, Masato told him the drawer was complicated enough without an audience.

Kamui wandered to the open doorway. Water slipped from the edge of the awning into the gutter, where a cart wheel had left a muddy groove. He stretched his shoulders and felt an unexpected absence of pain.

"Something's wrong," he announced.

Daichi glanced up from his tea. "What have you broken?"

"Nothing. That's the problem. My shoulders don't hurt."

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

"I might get used to this."

Daichi took another sip. A cart rattled past, splashing water over the stones. Neither of them moved out of the doorway to investigate.

A little later, Daichi set down his cup and handed Kamui the broom.

Kamui looked across the swept floor. "Masato's already done this side."

"Not beneath the benches."

Masato raised his feet without looking away from his drawer. "He's right. There's plenty under mine."

"Wonderful. Two against one."

"You asked for something to do," Daichi said.

"I distinctly remember celebrating not having anything to do."

"Then celebrate while you sweep."

Kamui took the broom. Masato kept his feet in the air until Kamui threatened to charge for the service, at which point he lowered them just enough to get in the way. By the time Kamui had finished, the rain was easing, and a patch of sunlight had appeared on the wall opposite the workshop.

Daichi lifted his cup and drew out the list.

"The hardware shop should be open. Get these sizes, and have him count them before he wraps them. We were short last time."

Kamui accepted the list and a small pouch of coins. "I'll be back before you miss me."

"Bring the nails back and I'll consider it."

The streets still had puddles along the edges, but the shops were opening their awnings again. Kamui kept to the drier stones, checking the sizes on the list as he walked. He was nearly at the hardware shop when a blue paper windmill bounced across the lane and struck his sandal.

He caught it before another gust carried it farther. One blade was torn near the centre, and its wooden stick was smeared with mud.

"My windmill!"

A little girl came hurrying from the fabric shop next door. She stopped in front of him, breathing hard, and reached for the toy. As soon as she saw the tear, her hands fell.

"Oh."

Kamui turned it so she could see the damage. "Was it like this before it got away?"

She shook her head. "Dad made it with me this morning. I picked the blue paper."

The folded blade sagged where the rainwater had softened it. Kamui gave the stick back, and she tried to straighten the paper with her thumb. It only bent further.

"My mum's in there," she said, nodding toward the shop. "She said not to go far."

Her mother was visible through the doorway, comparing bundles of thread at the counter. She looked over when her daughter called and came to see what had happened. Kamui showed her the tear and explained that he was going next door for hardware.

"I could try patching it while I'm there," he said. "If that's all right with you."

The woman considered the windmill, then the small hopeful face beside her. "I'll be at the counter a while longer. Stay outside the shop where I can see you, and don't go into the road."

The girl nodded before her mother had finished.

"Don't replace the blue part," she told Kamui.

"I'll try not to."

"Because Dad folded it."

"Then we'd better see what we can save."

Inside the hardware shop, the owner was sorting hinges into wooden trays. He recognized Daichi's handwriting before Kamui had finished unfolding the list.

"Short again?" he asked.

"According to Daichi, yes. He wants the sizes checked this time."

The shopkeeper counted them out on the counter while Kamui checked the figures beside each item. After the packets were tied, Kamui noticed a stack of coloured paper offcuts beside an old paste pot.

"Would you mind if I used a little of that?"

The man followed his gaze. "What for?"

Kamui held up the windmill. The girl lifted it higher, making sure he saw the blue blades rather than just the muddy stick.

"You'd be better off making a new one," the shopkeeper said.

"No," the girl replied immediately. "I want this one."

The shopkeeper looked at her for a moment, then reached beneath the counter for scissors and a few pins. "Bench outside. And don't leave those little pieces where somebody can step on them."

Kamui thanked him, left the paid-for nails on a clear part of the counter, and carried the supplies to the covered bench by the door. From there the girl could still see her mother in the fabric shop.

The damage was worse once they opened the folds. The paper had softened around the centre hole, and the pin was bent. Kamui eased it free and laid the windmill flat on a scrap of dry paper. The girl pressed her finger on the least damaged blade so the whole thing wouldn't curl up.

"Not too hard," he told her. "It'll tear again."

She loosened her finger. "Like this?"

"That's better."

He cut a strip of yellow paper to go behind the tear, then stopped when he saw how broad it was. It would hold, probably, but the blade wouldn't bend properly with so much backing. He trimmed it down and tried the fold against the original creases.

"Dad did it quicker," the girl observed.

"I believe you."

"You said it would take five minutes."

"I was optimistic."

She put her free hand on her hip, apparently unconvinced that optimism was an acceptable excuse. Kamui set the narrow patch under the damaged part and asked her to hold the edges together while he dabbed on the paste.

They waited for it to grip. Behind them, the shopkeeper served someone buying wire. Across the lane, the girl's mother was still arguing gently with the fabric seller over two shades of green thread.

When the patch held, Kamui folded the blades back toward the centre. One kept pointing the wrong way. He tried it twice before the girl tapped a crease with her nail.

"That one goes underneath."

He looked at it, then moved the fold where she indicated. The windmill took shape immediately.

"You should have said something sooner."

"I did."

"You're right. You did."

That seemed to satisfy her. She handed him the new pin with exaggerated care, keeping the sharp end pointed away from her fingers.

Kamui worked it through the centre and fixed it to the stick. The blades turned when he nudged them, then caught against the wood and stopped. He loosened the pin slightly. The girl blew at the windmill, but it barely moved.

"It's still broken," she said.

"Not quite. See that corner?"

The yellow patch had caught one folded tip. She held the stick while he freed it, and then she tried blowing again. This time the windmill managed half a turn.

The girl looked from the blades to Kamui. Neither of them said anything. He carried it to the edge of the awning, where a faint breeze was moving along the lane.

For a few seconds the paper trembled without turning. Then the breeze picked up, and the blue blades began to spin. They wobbled once, caught the wind properly, and whirled fast enough for the yellow patch to disappear.

"Look!" the girl cried. "It's working!"

Kamui lowered it into her waiting hands. She held it up, turned it away from the breeze by accident, then hurried two steps back until it spun again. She laughed and called for her mother, who came out with a small packet of thread tucked under one arm.

The girl showed her the yellow paper beneath the torn blade and explained, in considerable detail, which parts Kamui had folded the wrong way.

"He did listen eventually," she finished.

Her mother smiled at him. "Thank you. How much do we owe you?"

"Nothing. The paper was scrap, and she did half the work."

"I told you that part went underneath," the girl reminded him.

"You did."

She was already raising the windmill toward the wind again. Her mother thanked him once more and took her hand before they crossed the lane.

Kamui watched until they reached the far side, then returned to the bench to gather the scraps. There were yellow triangles stuck to the wood and a bent pin beneath his knee. The shopkeeper came out carrying a short brush.

"It spins?" he asked.

"Better than I expected."

"Good. Sweep that lot up before somebody thinks I'm giving out free toys."

Kamui took the brush. One scrap skittered off the bench, and he trapped it under his sandal. Unfortunately, it still had paste on it. He had to peel it off the sole while the shopkeeper stood over him, saying nothing.

When the bench was clean, Kamui handed back the scissors and paste pot and thanked him.

"Forgot something," the shopkeeper said.

Kamui stopped at the door.

The man pointed to the paper packets lying exactly where Kamui had left them. Daichi's nails.

Kamui went back for them. "Please don't mention that I nearly walked out without these."

"Then you'd better get back before he sends somebody looking."

Kamui checked the packets once more and headed for the workshop.

Daichi didn't need to ask why he had taken so long. The paste on Kamui's cuff and the yellow scrap still clinging to his sandal invited questions. Kamui explained the windmill while Daichi checked the nails against the list.

"And the girl's mother was there?" Daichi asked.

"At the fabric shop next door. She could see us the whole time."

Daichi nodded and closed the order book. "Put those on Masato's bench. He needs the smaller size."

"That was all you wanted to know?"

"Should I have asked about the yellow paper on your shoe?"

Kamui scraped it off before Masato could notice.

Work ran late despite the missing timber. Masato finished his drawer, Daichi dealt with a customer's damaged shutter, and Kamui helped clear the benches for the following morning. When the old man went to lock the storeroom, Kamui sat on the front step with a small piece of wood and the carving knife he had used on his first awkward fox the night before.

He tried another animal, keeping Daichi's advice in mind and leaving the uneven parts alone until he could see what shape he had. The ears came out better. One paw was still too short, but at least this one stood without being propped against something.

Daichi came out, stopped beside him, and held out a hand. Kamui passed him the carving.

"Better," Daichi said after turning it over.

Kamui looked up. "You really think so?"

"The legs are still uneven."

"I knew there was a catch."

"Leave that one until morning. You can't see the grain properly out here."

Kamui took it back and slipped the knife into its sheath. The fox and the new animal could wait beside his tools. He was in no hurry to decide what the second one was supposed to be.

That evening, Naruto stopped outside the fabric shop to examine a display of coloured cord. He had come for nothing in particular, but the red lengths looked as though they might be useful for a trap, and he was trying to decide whether he had enough money to buy one.

Something blue spun across his view. A little girl stood beside her mother, waving a paper windmill into the breeze. Yellow flashed beneath one blade whenever it slowed.

"Careful," her mother told her. "You've nearly hit that boy."

"Sorry!" The girl lowered the stick, then held it up again for Naruto to see. "It got broken, but a man fixed it."

Naruto leaned closer. "He did a pretty good job."

"He did it wrong twice first."

"Only twice?" Naruto said. "That's not bad."

The girl nodded emphatically. Her mother took her hand, and they started down the street. Naruto watched the windmill catch another gust before turning back to the cords in the window.

Naruto wondered whether she meant Kamui. He almost headed toward the workshop to ask. Then he remembered the exercise Iruka wanted in the morning, still lying unfinished beside his bed.

Naruto groaned, pulled his hands out of his pockets, and started home. At the corner he looked back once. The girl had lifted the windmill above her head again, and this time it spun without stopping.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you'd like to read ahead and support my writing, you can check out my Patreon, where I share advanced chapters of Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and my other fanfictions.

There's absolutely no pressure to subscribe. Your comments, feedback, and support here already mean a lot!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again, and see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The workshop closed earlier than usual that afternoon.

The timber shipment delayed by the rain still hadn't arrived. Daichi finished the smaller repairs, checked the empty space where the new boards should have been, and put away the order book. Masato left to help Hana at the bakery before the old man could find him something else to do.

Kamui had just finished putting away his tools when Daichi stretched his arms above his head. A series of quiet cracks came from his back.

"I almost forgot what free time feels like."

Kamui looked up. "What do people normally do with it?"

"Have you never gone fishing?"

"Fishing?" Kamui considered the question. "I've eaten fish."

Daichi slowly turned toward him. "That's not what I asked."

"I suspected as much."

The old carpenter stared at him, then shook his head in disbelief. "Never?"

"Mostly I grew up around cities. There was a stream where I used to throw stones, but nobody ever put me in charge of catching dinner."

"You make it sound complicated. You put bait on a hook, throw the line into the water, and wait."

"That sounds suspiciously simple. I've learned to be wary of simple instructions from you."

Daichi laughed. "Come along, then. I've got a spare rod, and now I'm curious to see how badly you can mess this up."

"I'm glad my development as a craftsman has inspired so much confidence."

"Perhaps you'll do better with fish."

"That's the spirit. We should both keep our expectations low."

They gathered a couple of fishing rods, two small buckets, and some bait before heading toward the river beyond Konoha. The weather was pleasant, warm without being oppressive, and the streets were quieter than usual as they left the busier part of the village behind.

Kamui had passed the river before, usually on his way somewhere else, but he had never spent much time there. Tall grass lined the banks, swaying whenever the breeze passed through, while sunlight glimmered on the water. Dragonflies skimmed the surface, and the distant sounds of Konoha faded until the river and the rustling reeds became the loudest things around them.

Daichi led him beneath a broad tree and handed him the spare rod.

"Here. Watch how I do it."

Kamui listened as Daichi demonstrated how to attach the bait, hold the rod, and cast without tangling the line around himself. His first attempt landed disappointingly close to the bank. The second went farther, though Daichi still found reason to correct his grip.

Finally, Kamui settled onto the grass with the rod between his hands.

"Right. I'll master this in an hour."

Daichi sat beside him. "I want you to remember you said that."

For the first twenty minutes, Kamui behaved like a patient student. He watched the float, kept his line steady, and tried not to disturb the water. Gradually, the quiet became rather pleasant. There was nothing to measure, sand, repair, or carry, and Daichi seemed more interested in his own float than in what Kamui was doing.

Then he noticed that Daichi had caught a fish.

Kamui examined the small trout in the old man's bucket, then looked at his own empty one.

"Beginner's luck?"

"Of course."

"You've been fishing longer than I've been alive, haven't you?"

"Then it's remarkable how lucky I am."

Kamui turned back to the river. His float bobbed gently on the surface, but nothing tugged at the line.

Another ten minutes passed.

He shifted his position, adjusted his grip, and peered at the water. Still nothing.

"Is there a reason you chose this spot?" Kamui asked after checking his line for the third time.

Daichi pointed with his rod to a darker patch of water near the reeds. "The current slows there. The fish come through from the deeper pool."

"That's where yours keep coming from?"

"More or less."

Kamui adjusted his cast. He'd aimed for the same place earlier, but each time the line had drifted back toward the shallows. This time he watched the current carry the float before settling it near the reeds.

Daichi said nothing for a while. Kamui found that he didn't mind. The carpenter could spend an entire morning correcting someone else's work without losing patience, yet here he seemed perfectly happy to leave things alone.

"Does Masato come fishing with you?" Kamui asked.

"He tried once. Asked how long we'd have to sit before we were allowed to call it a day."

"That sounds like him."

"He brought a book the next time."

Kamui glanced over. "There was a next time?"

"He forgot it on the bank, so he had to come back for it."

Kamui laughed, and Daichi's mouth creased around a small smile. They settled again, keeping an eye on their floats.

A boy of about eight wandered past carrying a bucket containing three fish. He slowed when he noticed Kamui's equipment, then peered into the empty bucket beside him.

"Bad day?"

Kamui regarded him solemnly. "I'm negotiating."

"With the fish?"

"They're being unreasonable."

The boy frowned. "My grandpa says fish don't understand words."

"Your grandpa sounds like a wise man."

"He says you have to wait."

"I've been doing that."

"Then you have to wait more."

Apparently satisfied that the matter had been settled, the boy continued down the bank, carefully swinging his bucket away from his legs.

Kamui watched the boy go. Three fish in that small bucket, and not one word of advice beyond waiting.

Daichi reeled in another catch and eased the hook free. "Try the deeper side now. You've been letting the current bring your line back toward the bank."

"I thought you'd already told me."

"I did."

"Then perhaps you could write it on a board. I'm much better at remembering instructions when somebody threatens to make me sand them."

Daichi put the fish away without rising to the bait. Kamui moved a few paces downstream to avoid an overhanging branch and made another cast. The float travelled cleanly this time, stopping near the shadow of the reeds. He let his shoulders settle and listened to Daichi describe a day years ago when a boy from the market had lost both sandals in the mud upstream. It had taken three adults and an hour to find one of them.

"What happened to the other?" Kamui asked.

"We gave up. If you see a very old sandal floating past, you'll know where it came from."

Kamui was still considering that image when his float vanished beneath the surface.

Kamui straightened so quickly that the rod nearly slipped from his hands.

"Wait. I've got one!"

"Easy," Daichi said, turning toward him. "Don't yank it."

The line pulled tight, and the rod bent sharply. Kamui's eyes widened as something moved beneath the water. He carefully drew the line toward the bank, feeling the fish struggle against the hook.

For one glorious moment, the entire afternoon seemed justified. He could already imagine Daichi having to acknowledge his success, preferably in front of an audience.

"See? I told you I'd master it in an hour!"

"You said you'd master fishing. You've caught one fish."

"Details!"

"Take it slowly!"

Kamui pulled.

The line snapped.

The freed end of the line flicked back, and the sudden loss of tension sent him stumbling. He took one awkward step, tried to recover his balance, and landed flat on his back in the grass.

For a few seconds, there was silence.

Kamui stared up at the sky. His fishing rod lay beside him, and a blade of grass had somehow found its way into his collar.

Daichi walked over and looked down at him. "You all right?"

Kamui didn't move.

"I believe the fish won."

That was enough to finish Daichi. He burst out laughing, then sat beside Kamui when it became clear the younger man had no intention of getting up immediately.

"I think it did."

Kamui turned his head toward the river. The water had already settled, leaving no evidence of the struggle.

"You did tell me not to pull," he admitted.

"I did."

"Next time, say it louder."

"You were shouting over me."

"That does complicate things."

After a moment Daichi stood and offered a hand. Kamui took it. The mud had found its way down the back of his shirt, and his arms ached from a contest that had lasted less than a minute. He brushed the grass from his collar and followed Daichi to their rods.

Daichi helped him inspect the rod. It had survived, but the line had parted near the hook. The wooden float had struck a stone as the broken line whipped back. A thin crack ran along its side.

"Can we use it again?" he asked.

"The rod, yes. You'll need fresh line and another float before the next attempt." Daichi tested the damaged section between his fingers. "And less enthusiasm when something finally bites."

Kamui accepted the verdict with poor grace.

Then he looked at Daichi's bucket, counted the fish, and decided against asking whether the old man was proud of himself.

"Four," Daichi supplied without looking up.

"I can count."

"Good. I wasn't certain after the line broke."

Kamui accepted the water flask Daichi offered him. They rested in the shade while dragonflies skimmed the river. On the opposite bank an elderly fisherman had barely moved all afternoon, and Kamui found himself watching the stillness of his line. Even when a gust caught it, the old man adjusted his grip without appearing to wake from whatever thoughts occupied him.

Kamui drank from the flask and tried to work out whether the fisherman had moved his float even once.

He reached behind his neck to brush away another clump of grass, then checked the back of his shirt for mud. There was enough to prevent him denying the fall later.

"If anyone at the shop asks," Kamui said, picking mud from his cuff, "I was checking the condition of the riverbank."

Daichi inspected the stain on the back of his shirt. "Thoroughly, by the look of it."

"I take my inspections seriously."

"Then you won't mind washing that yourself."

That ended the discussion more effectively than any joke.

They began packing their things. Kamui gathered the rods while Daichi carried the bucket. Just as they were preparing to leave, Kamui glanced at the old man on the opposite bank. He had been sitting downstream all afternoon, so still that it was easy to forget he was there. A bucket rested in the grass beside him, and his rod lay across his knees.

When their eyes met, the old man gave a slight nod before returning his attention to the river.

Kamui nodded back.

There was no reason to interrupt someone who had clearly come to enjoy a quiet afternoon. He turned to follow Daichi, but after they'd taken a few steps, he glanced back and noticed that the old fisherman was gathering his things as well.

The path narrowed at a small footbridge downstream. They reached it at the same time as the other fisherman, who glanced at the damaged float tangled in Kamui's line. He stopped and opened his bag.

Without introducing himself, he held out a small wooden float.

"Yours is cracked."

Kamui looked at it in surprise. The replacement was similar to his own, though its surface was smoother and its shape more carefully carved. He accepted it and turned it between his fingers.

"It hit a stone when the line broke. I landed on something softer."

The old man glanced at the mud on his shirt. "That explains the noise."

Kamui stared at him for a moment before laughing. "I've had a difficult afternoon. Have you come to tell me what I did wrong as well?"

"No. I came to fish."

The old man adjusted the strap of his small bag and began walking away.

"Wait," Kamui called after him. "At least let me pay you for it."

The fisherman waved a hand without turning around. "Catch one first."

Then he continued along the path until the trees concealed him from view.

Kamui watched him disappear before looking down at the float again.

"You know him?" Kamui asked.

"Only by sight. He was here when I first found this stretch. We leave one another alone."

Kamui looked toward the empty bridge. The gift made more sense with that explanation: the fisherman hadn't wanted company or gratitude, only to keep a stranger from going home without a float.

"He could've kept it," Kamui said.

"He chose not to."

Daichi moved to one side of the path to let two walkers pass, then set off again. Kamui turned the new float in his fingers. It was smooth, with a neat little band of colour around the top that would make it easier to see against the water.

"I'll bring this back someday," he said.

Daichi glanced at him. "You think you'll see him again?"

"If I keep coming here, probably."

"I'd make sure he doesn't have to give you another one."

"That's the plan. Though I'd appreciate it if you checked my knot next time."

Daichi agreed without comment, which Kamui took as a considerable concession.

They continued their journey back to Konoha, talking about the next day's work and whether the lumber shipment would arrive early enough for them to finish the smaller orders. By the time they reached the village gates, the sun had nearly disappeared behind the rooftops.

At the gate, Kamui offered to carry the bucket. Daichi handed it over, then watched him inspect the catch.

"Want to clean them?" Daichi asked.

Kamui looked at the four fish, considered what he knew about preparing dinner, and handed the bucket back. "You can teach me that part another day."

They bought a little ginger on the way back. Daichi knew how he wanted the fish cooked and refused Kamui's offer to improvise. After the fishing, Kamui couldn't reasonably object. He cleaned the basin while the old man prepared supper, then carried the bowls outside to the step, where the evening air was cooler.

The fish tasted better than defeat ought to. Kamui said so, and Daichi gave him a second portion without asking whether he wanted it. They discussed the delayed timber over the meal. If it arrived before noon, they could still finish the smaller cabinet; if not, Daichi would have to speak to the customer himself.

"Want me to go?" Kamui asked.

"No. I gave her the date." Daichi set the empty bowl on his knee. "You and Masato can start unloading when the cart turns up."

Kamui agreed, then took the bowls to wash before the old man could assign that as well.

That night, while closing the workshop, Kamui placed the rod safely against the wall and put the spare float in a small drawer. He could have left both for Daichi to deal with, but after spending so much time complaining about the equipment, he figured he owed it a little care.

Daichi noticed him arranging the gear.

"Next week?" Daichi asked, seeing him put the float away.

"If you're free."

"Ask me before you borrow the bait this time."

Kamui shut the drawer. "That's a yes, then."

Daichi took his coat from the door and told him where the spare line was kept before leaving.

Kamui fetched a length of fresh line and set it beside the float in the drawer. He would ask Daichi to check the knot before they went out. For now, he wound the broken length around a scrap of card so it wouldn't tangle with the good line, put away the rods, and extinguished the lamp.


Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The delayed timber arrived with a stool wedged between two bundles on the wagon. The driver brought it inside while Kamui and Masato unloaded, explaining that its owner had tried to stop it rocking by shortening the legs. Now she wanted a new one and had sent the old frame for Daichi to copy.

Daichi thought it might still be worth repairing. By the time the boards were stacked, he was less certain. A replacement leg lay beside the stool, and his pencil mark on it was very clear.

"This leg is too short."

Kamui walked over and examined the stool. "Didn't you measure it twice?"

"I measured it correctly twice."

Daichi gave the new leg another look. "I measured it wrong twice, apparently."

Kamui pressed a hand against the seat. The stool wobbled from side to side, even with the replacement held in place.

"Shall I write that down in the order book?" he asked.

"Write down the measurements. I'll take care of being embarrassed."

"It's nice to see you sharing the difficult work."

Daichi fitted the replacement without glue and pressed on the seat. The stool rocked, but the leg was no longer the only problem. One of the old joints opened beneath his hand, showing a split someone had concealed with a nail driven at an angle.

Masato crouched to look. "That's been moving for a while."

"All morning," Daichi muttered, setting down his tools. "We should have stripped it before cutting anything."

Kamui examined the split. "Are we still repairing it?"

"No. We'll make the new one she asked for. Save the seat and whatever sound wood you can get from the rest."

Kamui reached for the frame. "I've provided moral support."

"You've provided commentary. Try providing the measurements before you take it apart."

Kamui wrote down the seat measurements, then carried the useless stool outside and leaned it against the workshop wall, intending to dismantle it later and salvage whatever wood he could. He had barely stepped back when a familiar voice called from across the street.

"Hey, Kamui!"

Naruto hurried toward him, his Academy bag hanging from one shoulder. He stopped in front of the stool and looked it over with open curiosity.

"What happened to it?"

"The owner tried to fix it by cutting the legs shorter," Kamui explained. "That didn't go very well."

Naruto circled it, inspecting the legs from different angles. "It looks fine to me."

"Don't drop onto it," Kamui warned. "That joint's loose."

Naruto gave it an experimental push, then lowered himself onto the seat before Kamui could stop him. The stool tilted. Kamui caught his sleeve, but Naruto was already sliding off the low seat, landing hard on his backside with one sandal caught beneath him.

"Are you hurt?" Kamui asked, keeping hold until the boy had found his feet.

"I'm fine!" Naruto protested, rubbing the back of his trousers. "But that hurt!"

Kamui checked that he could stand, then picked up the stool. "I should have put it on its side."

"I told you it was loose," Kamui said, turning it on its side so nobody else could sit on it.

"You could've been more convincing!"

From the doorway, Masato tried—and failed—to hide his laughter. Naruto rounded on him, but Daichi emerged before the argument could gather speed and asked whether anyone had checked the seat for further damage. Kamui gave him a look. Daichi looked Naruto over and, satisfied he could walk without trouble, set the frame well clear of the doorway.

Naruto kicked one of the legs lightly, still looking offended. Then his attention shifted to the loose joint beneath the seat. He crouched and pressed the pieces together, watching them separate again when he let go.

"Can't you fix it?"

"We could," Kamui said, "but it'd take longer than making a new one. The legs are uneven, and the joints have been damaged from trying to correct them."

Naruto frowned at the stool. "So you're just going to throw it away?"

"Not exactly. I'll take it apart and see what wood can be saved."

Naruto stayed crouched beside it, testing the loose rail with his thumb. He looked at the smooth seat, then at the sound lengths of wood still joined beneath it.

"Can I have it?"

Kamui blinked. "The broken stool?"

"Yeah."

"What for?"

Naruto scratched the back of his head. "I don't know yet. I just thought I could make something out of it."

Kamui glanced toward the workshop. Daichi was still watching them with his arms folded.

"You know it's going to take some work, right?" Kamui asked.

"Of course I know!" Naruto answered quickly. "I'm not stupid!"

"I never said you were. Just promise you'll ask before trying to cut anything."

Naruto ran a finger over the splintered joint. "Fine. But I'm doing the easy parts myself."

"I can show you how the sound pieces come apart," Kamui said, crouching beside him. "Leave the nailed corner alone. That's the one we need to deal with here."

Naruto pointed to a screw beneath the seat. "That comes out first?"

"Those screws hold the top. Yes. Don't try cutting anything at home, and bring it back if something won't move. You don't need to break it to prove you're stronger."

Naruto's eyes brightened. "You'd show me?"

"Of course. I can't promise you'll make anything impressive, but I can show you how to avoid losing a fight with a screwdriver."

"Hey! I can use a screwdriver!"

"I'm sure you can. The question is whether the screwdriver agrees."

Naruto puffed out his cheeks. "You'll see! I'll make something better than a stupid stool!"

Daichi finally joined them. After considering Naruto's request, he shrugged.

"It belongs to the workshop. If he wants it, he can take it. It's firewood otherwise."

Naruto's face lit up. "Really?"

"Bring the loose nails back in a tin. I don't want them left where somebody will step on them."

"I will!"

He immediately hoisted the stool onto his shoulder as though he'd been entrusted with a priceless treasure. Its awkward shape nearly slipped from his grasp, forcing him to readjust his hold.

Kamui pointed toward the seat. "Hold it there. It'll balance better."

Naruto followed his advice, and the stool settled more comfortably against his shoulder.

"Oh! That's easier."

"Wood has a few rules. It doesn't care how enthusiastic you are."

"Then I'll learn the rules!" Naruto declared. He took a step away, then turned back. "I'll bring it to you when I'm finished!"

"I'll be here."

Naruto hurried off, already talking to himself about what he might build. Kamui watched until the boy disappeared around the corner.

Daichi came to stand beside him. "He'll need somewhere to work on that."

"I told him to bring it back."

"Then clear the end of the low bench. And keep those measurements somewhere we can find them."

Masato had already set the replacement stock aside. He handed Kamui the rule and warned him not to copy the short leg as well. Kamui transferred his measurements to the order book while Daichi checked the sound wood from the delivery. The new stool would have to be finished before the customer came looking for the old one.

That evening, Naruto sat outside his apartment with the broken stool spread across the ground in front of him. A screwdriver borrowed from a neighbor lay beside his knee, and several pieces of wood had already been separated from the original frame.

He had started confidently. Taking the stool apart had seemed easy enough, and for a while he'd been pleased with how quickly the pieces came loose. Then he had tried to remove a stubborn nail, split one of the legs, and discovered that the wood didn't always separate where he wanted it to.

An hour later, the stool no longer resembled a stool. It barely resembled anything.

Naruto sat back on his heels, sawdust covering his clothes, and examined the scattered pieces.

"Okay. This is harder than I thought."

He picked up two boards and tried fitting them together. They wouldn't sit straight. He adjusted one, pushed the other into place, and ended up knocking a third piece off the small pile he'd arranged beside him.

"Come on!"

He wanted to kick the wood across the courtyard. Instead, he dropped the boards and rubbed his sore fingers.

For a moment, he considered throwing the entire mess away. He'd been excited when Kamui gave him permission to take the stool, imagining that he'd make something useful and show everyone what he could do. Now he couldn't even get two pieces of wood to fit together.

He could almost hear the laughter if he brought the mess back to the workshop.

Look at Naruto. He couldn't even fix a broken stool.

His face warmed. He pushed the worst splinters behind the sound pieces, then stopped. Hiding them here wouldn't help when Kamui asked what had happened.

He had been told to leave that corner alone. Naruto looked at the split and tried to imagine explaining it without mentioning the screwdriver he'd used as a lever. There probably wasn't a convincing version.

A door opened behind him. The neighbour who had lent him the tool stepped out, carrying a basin, and stopped when he saw the loose nails beside Naruto's knee.

"Put those in something."

"I'm going to."

The man waited. Naruto got up and fetched an empty tin from inside, embarrassed by the delay and unwilling to admit he'd forgotten Daichi's instruction. When he returned, the neighbour had set the basin down and was examining the screwdriver's bent tip.

"Sorry," Naruto muttered.

"This is for turning screws. You want to pull a nail, use the right tool." He took it back, leaving Naruto staring at the empty place beside his knee.

"I can still take the other bit off."

"Tomorrow. Ask whoever gave you the stool."

The neighbour went inside again. Naruto sat down, gathering the nails one at a time and dropping them into the tin. Kamui had told him to bring it back if something wouldn't move. He hadn't said to bring it back only after it looked impressive.

Naruto picked up the split leg. This, unfortunately, looked like something that would need explaining.

He began gathering the pieces, separating the ones that were still usable from the splintered scraps. This time, he took care to stack them neatly against the wall instead of throwing everything into a heap. He still didn't know what to do next, but he could ask Kamui about the joints and tools the next time they met.

Maybe he'd even ask Daichi.

He rehearsed an explanation while stacking the pieces. It sounded better when he left out the screwdriver, but that was the part Daichi would probably ask about first.

He put the tin beside his Academy bag, then moved it inside the bag so he couldn't leave without seeing it.

The next afternoon, Kamui stopped by Ichiraku after work. Teuchi set a bowl in front of him and asked whether the workshop had finished its troublesome repair.

"The customer wants a new stool," Kamui said. "Which is wise. I wouldn't trust the old one with a bag of rice."

Ayame looked up from preparing the toppings. "Naruto said he fell off it."

"He did. I checked that he wasn't hurt, and Daichi gave him the wood afterward. He's going to try making something from the pieces."

"Did he tell you what?" Teuchi asked.

"Not yet. I suspect he'll start with a throne and reduce his ambitions once he sees the screws."

Ayame set the toppings aside. "He's been telling people you're teaching him carpentry."

Kamui considered that while eating. Naruto had watched him work a few times and learned which end of a screwdriver to hold; teaching was probably too generous a description. But there was a space waiting for the boy at the workshop, and Daichi had made no attempt to reclaim it.

On his way out, Kamui passed two Academy students discussing a chair that had supposedly collapsed under Naruto in the marketplace. One of them claimed the carpenter had built it that morning. Kamui decided not to chase them down with the repair slip. If Naruto was telling the story, he would eventually find out what version had reached the Academy.

He took the lane toward Naruto's building, intending to ask how the dismantling had gone before the boy turned up with another story. Naruto was coming the other way with a cloth bundle against his chest and a tin clattering inside his bag.

They stopped a few paces apart.

"I was bringing it back," Naruto said immediately.

"I can see that."

"The corner wouldn't come off."

Kamui glanced at the bundle. A splintered end protruded from the cloth. "The one I told you to leave?"

Naruto studied the road. "That one."

Kamui took the loose seat before it could slide from the top of the bundle. "All right. We'll look at it tomorrow. Daichi's cleared a place for you."

"He has?"

"Briefly. If you don't claim it, Masato will cover it with cupboard doors."

Naruto adjusted the lighter bundle and began walking beside him. He described the screws he'd removed successfully before mentioning the screwdriver. Kamui listened through the account, then asked whether he had apologised to the neighbour.

"Yeah. He took it back."

"Good. Ask whether he wants Masato to straighten it. Don't take it again without telling him what happened."

"He knows," Naruto said, with the injured air of someone who had already endured a lecture. "I'll ask."

At the workshop, they put the salvaged pieces beside the low bench. Naruto arranged them with the split end underneath until Kamui lifted it into view. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

"I'll explain that bit to Daichi," Naruto said.

"Tomorrow. He'll be back in the morning."

Naruto left the tin of nails on top of the bundle, where it couldn't be missed. Kamui closed the front door after him and moved Masato's cupboard hinges away from the space they'd promised.


Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

Kamui could tell who was working at the next bench without looking up. Masato drove nails in quick bursts, pausing only to reach for the next one. Daichi's plane made a longer, steadier scrape. When either sound stopped abruptly, somebody usually needed a hand.

His own tools were less cooperative. A chisel slipped from its rest and struck the bench with a clack that brought Daichi's head up.

"They're expressing themselves," Kamui said, retrieving it before it could roll to the floor.

"They're distracting me," Daichi replied, returning to his work.

"Then perhaps the problem is that you don't appreciate the arts."

"The next time your artistic expression chips a finished tabletop, you can explain it to the customer."

Kamui checked the blade for damage and returned it to its rack. He had promised to finish sanding the cabinet before its owner arrived; it seemed wise to make progress before offering any further opinions.

That afternoon, Daichi glanced toward the open doorway. "Looks like someone's been trying to decide whether he wants to come in for a while."

Kamui looked up from the board he was sanding. Naruto stood outside with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels as he studied the workshop. He had clearly noticed them looking at him, yet he still seemed reluctant to cross the threshold.

Kamui wiped his hands on a cloth and raised it in greeting. "Afternoon, Naruto! Your wood's still here."

Naruto came closer. "I was just walking past."

"Past

Masato took one look at the bent tip and held out his hand.

"I'll see what I can do. You use this as a lever?"

Naruto nodded. "I told him I was sorry."

"Good. Leave it with me."

Kamui moved the cloth bundle onto the low bench. Naruto followed, looking past him toward Daichi as though expecting another question. The old carpenter was checking the cabinet doors, but had evidently been listening.

"Show me the split before you start anything else," he said.

Naruto unwrapped the damaged piece and brought it over. Daichi examined the broken end, tested the grain farther down, and drew a line across the sound section with his pencil.

"We can keep everything below that. Put it with the other short pieces."

"That much?" Naruto asked.

"That much."

He carried it back with a little more care.

Naruto's attention soon wandered from the doorway to the workbenches. Chisels of different sizes lay neatly arranged beside measuring tools, while bundles of timber rested against the wall. Several pieces of furniture stood in various stages of completion, from a simple stool waiting for its legs to a cabinet whose doors had yet to be fitted. The smell of fresh-cut pine hung in the air, mixing with the faint scent of oil and sawdust.

"You really make all this?" Naruto asked, pausing beside the finished cabinet.

"Most of it," Daichi answered. "Some things require parts we don't make ourselves, but we handle the rest."

Naruto ran a finger along the edge of a finished tabletop. The wood was smooth beneath his touch, with no splinters or rough patches to catch his skin. "It looks like it takes forever to make something this good."

"Sometimes it does," Daichi said. "And sometimes a mistake makes it take even longer."

Naruto glanced at Kamui. "Do you guys mess things up a lot?"

Kamui gave him a solemn look. "Constantly. Some days I think my greatest contribution to this workshop is giving Daichi more things to repair."

"That's an exaggeration," Daichi said.

"Thank you. I knew you'd defend my reputation."

"I meant you only give me more things to repair on the days you're working."

Naruto burst out laughing. Kamui pressed a hand to his chest as though the old carpenter had wounded him deeply, then gave Naruto an exaggerated wink. "You see what I endure? A man works hard, offers his finest efforts to the world, and gets insulted in his own workplace. Truly, the life of an artisan is a difficult one."

"You're supposed to be sanding that board," Daichi reminded him.

"And so I shall. A great craftsman never abandons his duties."

Kamui picked up the sandpaper again, and Naruto continued exploring the workshop. His eyes lingered on the tools, the unfinished furniture, and the little scraps of wood collected in a box near the back wall. He checked the low bench before wandering any farther, as if making sure nobody had reclaimed his space.

He stopped beside the stool frame. With the seat removed and the split leg laid beside it, it looked less like a piece of furniture than something taken apart for an examination.

"I really did a terrible job on that thing," he said.

Kamui joined him at the bench. "You were meant to be taking it apart. You got most of the screws out."

"And broke the leg."

"And broke the leg." Kamui turned the frame over. "This corner was damaged before you touched it. See where the old nail went through?"

Naruto leaned closer. There were two different breaks: the pale fresh split he'd made and the darker crack beneath the joint. Kamui showed him how the rail had been forced sideways. They would have had to replace that part even if Naruto had brought the stool home untouched.

"So it wasn't all me."

"Plenty was you. Don't get greedy."

Naruto made a face, then pointed to a screw he hadn't been able to loosen. Kamui chose a screwdriver that fit the head, gave it one controlled turn, and let Naruto finish removing it. The rail came free with a small click. Naruto held it up, surprised by how little force the right tool required.

Masato passed behind them carrying the repaired screwdriver. The bend had been slight enough to correct, though a mark remained near the tip.

"Try it on that loose screw before you take it back," he said. "And tell your neighbour to bring it in if it gives him trouble."

Naruto tested it carefully. He could feel Masato waiting, and for once he resisted the urge to make the work look effortless. The screw turned. He backed it out again and put the tool in his bag.

"Thanks."

Masato wiped his hands. "Thank me by returning it before he has to ask twice."

The remaining sound pieces went into three small piles. Naruto wanted to keep the short broken ends as well, until Daichi explained which still contained nails. Those went into the scrap tin. The seat was the best part, broad enough for something useful if Naruto didn't try to cut away the worn edge merely because it looked old.

"What are you making?" Kamui asked.

Naruto turned the seat over. "I haven't decided."

"Then don't cut it yet."

He expected a complaint. Instead Naruto put it flat and asked where the sandpaper was. Kamui gave him a used sheet, showed him the rough patch to begin with, and returned to the cabinet. For a little while they worked beside one another, Naruto occasionally checking Kamui's hand to copy the direction of the stroke.

He pressed too hard at first. Masato noticed on his way past and demonstrated with two fingers rather than his whole palm. Naruto tried that, looked annoyed by the slower movement, and kept at it anyway.

A customer arrived shortly afterward to collect a cabinet. Daichi greeted him and checked the finished piece one last time, running his hand over the corners before nodding with satisfaction. Kamui helped carry it outside, taking the heavier end while the customer moved aside to give them room. Naruto followed them to the doorway, watching as the cabinet was set carefully onto the customer's cart.

The man examined the surface, opened and closed the doors, and ran his hand along the polished wood. "Excellent work. My wife will love it. Thank you for taking such care with it."

Daichi accepted the praise with a modest nod. "I'm glad you're satisfied. Keep it out of the rain, and the wood should serve you well for years."

The customer thanked them again before setting off down the street. Kamui brought the packing cloths back inside. Naruto remained at the doorway, watching the cart disappear into the traffic.

"He checked everything," Naruto said. "Then he said thank you."

"He's putting it in his house. He wanted to be sure."

"Do people say that a lot? That you did a good job?"

"Some do. Others bring it back if we haven't." Kamui folded one cloth over his arm. "I prefer his version."

Naruto lowered his gaze to his sandals. "Must be nice."

Kamui looked at the boy, then at the straps trailing from the cloths. "Catch that end before it drags, will you?"

Naruto caught it. Together they spread the heavy cloth across the bench, found the corners, and folded it into a manageable square. Naruto pulled his side too far once, earning a complaint that Kamui wasn't meant to be included in the bundle. He loosened his grip and tried again.

"Thanks," Kamui said when it was done. "Top of that shelf."

Naruto put it away. On returning to the bench, he noticed a loose screw on the floor where the cabinet had stood. He picked it up, checked with Masato that it wasn't needed, and dropped it into the spare tin.

His own seat had a smoother patch now, though the old finish remained around the edge. Kamui showed him where to stop before he wore a hollow into it. Naruto ran his palm over the difference twice, then shook the dust from the paper and put it beside the saved wood.

He had spent most of the visit working without once finding a use for the seat. That bothered him enough to announce he would have a plan by tomorrow.

"Bring the plan," Kamui said. "We'll see whether you've designed something that can fit through your own door."

Naruto brightened. "A huge shelf."

"Start with the word shelf. We can discuss huge afterward."

When he finally prepared to leave, his eyes drifted once more toward the broken stool.

"I'm going to make something that stands up," Naruto announced. "Even if it takes a hundred tries."

"A hundred? I'd better tell Daichi to order more wood."

Naruto glanced at the short stack on the bench. "It won't actually take a hundred."

"Excellent. I was beginning to worry about the invoice."

Naruto laughed and started down the street. Halfway to the corner, he turned around and raised his voice.

"Hey, Kamui! Can I come watch you work again sometime?"

Kamui leaned against the doorframe. "You can watch. You can help. You can sit down and complain about Iruka, provided you don't expect us to agree with you every time."

"What if he's wrong?"

"Then you'll have a case. Bring your homework as evidence."

Naruto groaned, already backing away. "You're getting as bad as him."

"You've been invited before, Naruto. Come by."

This time the boy didn't disguise his answer. He raised a hand, said he would, and went down the street with the screwdriver safely in his bag.

That evening, after the tools had been put away and the last of the sawdust swept from the floor, Daichi secured the workshop's shutters. Kamui helped him carry the remaining offcuts into storage. Through the open door came the clatter of dishes from a nearby house; the street beyond was growing quiet.

Daichi paused beside the low bench. "He left that cleaner than I expected."

"Once we found somewhere for the nails."

"Keep the short boards separate. If Masato mixes them with the cabinet stock, we'll lose half tomorrow sorting them out."

Kamui wrote Naruto's name on the wrapping cloth and set the seat on top. It looked like an order waiting for a customer, though no paying customer had yet requested something so undecided.

Daichi tested the shutter and gave him the keys. He was going home; Kamui would finish closing. At the doorway he stopped and looked back at the marked bundle.

"You've promised him room. Leave enough room for our work too."

"I can manage a bench, old man."

"You said that about the cart."

"That cart survived a race against Might Guy."

"Despite you."

Daichi left before Kamui could defend himself. Kamui moved the scrap bin beneath the bench, returned Masato's pencil to its cup, and checked the side door. The screwdriver was gone, the nails were contained, and Naruto's name was still visible on the bundle when he turned out the lamp.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The cedar wagon arrived before Kamui had opened the last shutter. Masato was outside helping the driver loosen the ropes, and Kamui left the shutter propped against the wall while he went to clear a path into the shed. Yesterday's offcuts were still beside the door. He moved them into a box, shifted the empty handcart, and returned just as the first piece of timber came down.

They had unloaded most of the wagon when Daichi stopped them. A split ran along one end of the piece they were carrying. Kamui turned it toward the light, but Masato asked him to put it down before the old carpenter began examining it.

The driver came around the wagon. "You'll lose that end when you trim it anyway."

"Not that much." Daichi ran his thumb along the split, then measured the sound length. "I can't get the two sides I ordered this for."

Kamui stood back while they discussed the price. He could hear Masato moving the bearers in the shed; the new stack was already higher than they had expected. When Daichi agreed to keep the timber at a reduced price, Kamui went to help find room for it. They laid it separately so it wouldn't be cut into the wrong lengths later.

By the time the wagon left, his hands ached. Masato fetched water, and they sat on the step outside, leaving the doorway clear for Daichi to carry his tally to the bench.

"Does he check every piece like that?" Kamui asked.

"He needs to. We won't always use it straight away, and it's harder to argue once it's been here a month." Masato poured a second cup and passed it over. "That split one should do for rails. He'll want it marked before we forget."

Kamui drank while Masato finished explaining where they could put the shorter lengths. From inside came the scrape of a stool and the rustle of Daichi sorting his papers. The street had filled while they were unloading; a woman stopped to ask when her repaired drawer would be ready, and Masato went in to fetch it for her.

Kamui brought the cups back a little later. Fresh dust lay across the low bench, and he moved Naruto's cloth bundle to the shelf above it before brushing the surface clean. The stool seat was still waiting there. Naruto had promised to return with a plan for an enormous shelf, though Kamui couldn't yet imagine where he intended to put it.

He left a space for the boy's bag and went to help Masato with the cupboard. Its lower door caught against the frame, and they spent much of the morning taking it off, checking it, and putting it back. At lunch, Masato sat where he could still see it. He ate half his meal before reaching over to try the door again.

"Eat first," Daichi said. "You can look at it afterward."

Masato let go of the handle. Kamui passed him the dish he had been reaching across, and they finished eating with the cupboard standing open beside them.

After lunch, Daichi called Kamui to the main bench. A small bundle lay beside the clamp, wrapped in an old cloth. Kamui opened it and found a chisel with a dark wooden handle, worn smooth around the grip. He recognized the shallow dents near the top. He had sharpened this one with the others and returned it to the shared rack.

"Is there something wrong with the edge?" he asked.

"No. I thought you could use one of your own."

Kamui looked up from the cloth. Daichi was choosing a cedar offcut from the box beneath the bench, turning each piece before putting it back.

"You're giving it to me?"

"If the grip suits you. It's narrower than the one you've been using."

Kamui picked it up. The handle fitted comfortably beneath his fingers. He turned it over to examine the blade, shortened by years of sharpening but still broad enough for the work Daichi had been teaching him.

"It suits me." He looked at the old carpenter again. "Thank you. I'll take care of it."

"I know you will." Daichi put the cedar on the bench. "Try it on this before you decide. You'll feel the difference better when you're cutting."

Kamui shifted his feet to make room at the clamp. He had used the chisel before, but he kept adjusting his hand now, wanting to find the grip Daichi meant. When he set the blade against the wood, the carpenter moved his wrist slightly.

"Keep that loose. You need to be able to lift away."

Daichi took the tool to demonstrate. A thin shaving curled off the cedar. Near the far edge he stopped, turned the block, and finished from the opposite direction. Kamui watched the blade leave the wood, then took his place again.

His first cut wandered. The second went deeper, and he had to ease the blade out before beginning another. He checked his wrist and tried to take a longer shaving. This time the edge caught near the corner. He could feel the resistance, but instead of stopping, he pushed through it.

A chunk snapped from the block and struck the bench.

Kamui lifted the chisel away. "I felt it catching. I should have turned it."

"You should." Daichi picked up the broken piece and fitted it against the block. A sliver had come away between them. "You won't get a clean edge by putting that back. Leave it for now."

"I can square it off."

"You can, but you'll lose more wood. Have you decided what you're making?"

Kamui hadn't. Until the corner broke, he had been thinking only about getting a shaving like Daichi's. He set the loose piece aside and turned the block to a sound edge.

Daichi stayed for the next attempt. Kamui stopped sooner, turned the cedar, and brought the two cuts together. There was a small ridge where they met. The carpenter showed him how to pare it down, then left him to practise while he went to look at Masato's door.

The next two cuts were cleaner. Kamui held the block toward the doorway to see the surface, and for a moment considered calling Daichi back. He could hear the other two discussing the hinge, however, and put the cedar down when Masato asked for help.

They laid folded cloths beneath the cupboard door to protect its edge. Kamui took the weight while Masato crouched beside the lower hinge, loosening one screw at a time.

"A little higher," Masato said. "Hold it there."

Kamui braced his arm against his knee. "Is it still pulling at the top?"

"I think it's coming from down here. I want to try this before we move the other one."

He reached into the narrow gap. Kamui shifted his hand when the cloth began to slip, and the door dropped slightly. Masato caught it against his shoulder.

"Tell me before you move. My fingers are in there."

"Sorry. The cloth's coming loose." Kamui waited until Masato withdrew his hand, then settled his grip. "Ready now."

They tried again. This time Kamui could see a gap behind the hinge when the screw loosened. Masato pressed it flat, checked the movement, and asked him to help take the door off.

There wasn't much wood to remove from the recess. Masato took a shaving, tested the fit, and took another. Kamui fetched the smaller chisel when he asked for it and stayed beside the door, watching the hinge settle closer to the frame. On the next fitting, it swung without catching.

Masato opened it several more times. He still looked doubtful, so Kamui took a turn at the handle. It moved freely in both directions.

"That's better," he said. "Come and try it, Daichi."

Daichi checked the clearance and told them to leave it until morning before making further adjustments. There was a shelf still to fit inside, but Masato covered the door and began collecting his tools.

"I need to get away on time," he told Kamui. "I said I'd help Hana move the flour."

"Then give me the measurements. I'll mark the shelf while you clear up."

Masato handed him the rule and the slip of paper. Kamui spread the board across the bench, brushed the shavings from underneath it, and began marking out the length. Masato stayed to check which edge he was measuring from before going to wash.

Naruto arrived near sunset with his Academy bag hanging from one shoulder. He looked for his bundle on the low bench, found it on the shelf above, and put his bag in the space Kamui had cleared.

"I took the screwdriver back," he announced. "He tried it on his door."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah. He said to thank Masato."

Masato heard his name from the basin and called across to ask what the neighbour had said. Naruto repeated the message, louder this time, and added that the door was still making a noise.

"Did he want us to look at it?"

"No. He said it always does that."

Masato dried his hands and asked a few questions about the noise. Naruto tried to explain, then moved his arm to show how far the door had been open. Masato thought one of the hinges needed oiling. He asked Naruto to mention it to the neighbour, and the boy agreed before going to see what Kamui was doing.

Kamui finished marking the shelf and returned the rule. By then Naruto was examining the broken cedar, fitting the loose corner back into place and trying to hold it there with his thumb.

"What happened to this?"

"I pushed too hard at the edge."

Naruto let the corner fall onto the bench. "Mine split farther."

"There was an old crack in yours." Kamui took the block and showed him where the fresh break ran through the grain. "This one was sound until I started on it."

"What were you making?"

"I hadn't got that far. I was practising with this." He lifted the chisel from its cloth. "Daichi gave it to me after lunch."

Naruto looked from the tool to Daichi, who was putting away the clamps. "Can I have one?"

"When you can use it properly," Daichi said.

"How am I supposed to learn without one?"

"You can use ours while you're here. You don't need to take one home."

Naruto seemed ready to pursue the argument, but Kamui turned the block over to look at another edge, and the boy reached for it.

"Wait. Put it that way again."

Kamui set it down. Naruto crouched beside the bench, moved around to the other side, and pointed to the broken corner.

"It could be a turtle. That's the tail."

"Where's the head?"

"Here." Naruto covered a square corner with his fingers. "You'd cut this bit off, and these sides. The middle's the shell."

Kamui leaned down to look from the same angle. With Naruto's hand hiding the excess wood, he could see the shape the boy meant.

"Show Daichi before we cut anything else," he said, moving aside so the carpenter could come closer.

Naruto explained again. He turned the block halfway through, lost the position he wanted, and began once more with the broken edge facing the doorway. Daichi followed his finger around the proposed shell, then checked the grain beneath it.

"You could get a head out of this end. It won't stick out very far."

"It doesn't have to. As long as you can see it."

"Let me get the extra wood off first."

Daichi clamped the block and took the chisel Kamui offered. He made three careful cuts, trimming a side, clearing the front, and taking a sliver from the damaged corner. The shape was still rough when he released it, but Naruto picked it up at once.

"Look! You can see it now."

Kamui took it when Naruto held it out. He could see the broad shell and the little head, though they would need more work before either was rounded. He put it flat on the bench, and Naruto bent to inspect the underside.

"It needs legs. Four, like this."

Daichi showed him how little wood remained beneath the shell. Naruto lowered his fingers, then lowered them again when the carpenter shook his head.

"That short? It'll look like it's sitting."

"Leave some wood above them or they'll break off."

Naruto turned it on its side. He had been holding the head straight ahead, but now he shifted the whole block as though the turtle were looking behind itself.

"If its head turns, it'll look like it's walking."

"Perhaps," Daichi said. "Draw what you mean. I want to see where you'd leave the neck."

Kamui brought paper and a pencil to the low bench. Naruto cleared a place beside his saved stool seat, then drew the turtle larger than the block. His first legs were too long. He looked at the wood, rubbed them out, and tried them shorter, turning the head on the next attempt.

Kamui sat on the end of the bench while the boy worked. When Naruto lengthened the tail, he pointed out that there wasn't enough wood for it. Naruto moved his hand over the drawing.

"I know. I haven't finished."

"All right. I'll leave you to it." Kamui stood to take the shelf board to Daichi. Naruto uncovered the drawing once he had gone and kept the long tail until he began another version beside it.

Daichi checked the measurements on the shelf and asked for a little more clearance on the left. Kamui changed the mark, labelled the waste, and put the board aside for morning. When he came back to the low bench, Naruto had drawn an eye and was filling the shell with uneven shapes.

"Do you think these'll be hard to do?" the boy asked.

Kamui studied the pattern. "The small ones might be. Ask Daichi how deep they need to go."

Naruto carried the drawing over. Daichi compared it with the block and told him to finish the shape before cutting a pattern into the surface. The boy wanted to know whether he could at least mark it out, and they spent a little while discussing which parts would remain after the shell was rounded.

Masato came past with his coat over his arm. He stopped to look, asked Naruto to lift the drawing so he could retrieve the cloth underneath it, and said goodnight. Naruto scarcely looked away from the wood before asking Daichi another question.

Kamui began clearing the main bench. There was less light through the open doorway now, and Naruto had moved his paper twice to keep it out of the shadows. When Kamui brought the pencil tin over, the boy looked toward the street.

"Can I take this?"

"The turtle? It's yours. Take the drawing too, so you can look at them together."

Naruto held the block against the paper. "I'm going to change the legs."

"Bring it back when you're ready. We'll help you with the cutting here."

"Tomorrow?"

"If there's room at the bench," Daichi said. "We've got work to finish first."

Naruto looked at the cupboard, then at his low bench. He folded the paper around the block, decided that made it too difficult to see, and laid the drawing inside his bag instead. Before leaving, he turned the turtle toward Daichi to make sure he had understood where the head should go.

Kamui followed him to the doorway. The boy was still explaining it as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder, and Kamui had to stop him from walking backward into a passing cart. Naruto stepped aside, waited for it to go by, and headed home with the unfinished turtle in his hand.

Inside, Daichi was closing the shutters. Kamui wiped the chisel and started to return it to the rack before remembering that it no longer belonged there.

"Could I keep this in my drawer?"

"Wrapped, so the edge doesn't knock against anything. You've got screws loose in there."

Kamui tipped them into a tin. His fishing float lay at the back beside the fresh line, and he moved both to make room for the cloth bundle. Before putting it away, he checked the blade. There was a rough spot near one corner.

Daichi brought the stone over when he saw what Kamui was examining. "Work on that before you wrap it. Let me check the edge when you're done."

Kamui wetted the stone and drew the blade across it at the angle he had been taught. Behind him, Daichi fastened the last shutter and went to gather his things. Kamui shifted the stone closer to the lamp. He had to turn the blade toward the light to see the rough place, but after a few strokes he could feel where it was beginning to smooth.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

By midday, Kamui had moved his work closer to the open doors three times. The light was better there, but so was the chance of catching a breeze. Inside the workshop, Masato had taken off his outer shirt and hung it on a peg while he fitted the last shelf in the cupboard.

The park bench occupied most of the clear floor. Its seat was broad enough for several people, and Daichi had kept the design plain: thick legs, a low brace, and edges rounded where a child might knock a knee. Kamui had spent the morning sanding the seat. When he thought it was ready, he called Daichi over and waited while the carpenter ran his hand along the underside.

"Here. Where the grain turns."

Kamui crouched to see the patch Daichi meant. It was scarcely visible from above, but he could feel it when he drew his fingers back against the grain. He worked on it with the paper folded around a small block, checked it himself, and held the bench steady while Daichi fitted the last rail.

Masato came to help them turn it. He stayed long enough to sit on one end while Kamui checked the feet, then returned to the cupboard. A customer would be collecting it soon, and he wanted time for the finish to dry.

"Bring the cloths back," he said as they loaded the handcart. "I've only got the small ones left."

Kamui took two from the shelf and folded them over the cart rails. Daichi checked the order slip, tucked it into his pocket, and helped settle the bench across them. They tightened the ropes before setting out.

The market road was crowded. At the greengrocer's corner, a delivery wagon left barely enough room for the handcart, and Kamui stopped while Daichi went ahead to ask a woman to move her shopping basket. She picked it up, apologized, and then wanted to know whether the bench was for sale. Daichi explained where it was going. By the time they got through, the wagon driver had returned and was asking them to wait while he moved his horse.

They reached the park with the cloths still in place and the bench unmarked. Kamui parked the cart beneath a tree while the keeper showed Daichi where he wanted the new seat. The old one leaned toward the path, its feet sunk at different depths into the earth.

"People keep dragging it closer to the shade," the keeper explained. "They sit down and it sinks again."

Daichi pressed a foot beside one of the legs. "We'll need it on firmer ground. Over here, perhaps."

The keeper wanted it nearer the path. They tried that position first, found the same soft patch, and moved it back far enough for all four feet to sit level. Kamui held one end while Daichi checked underneath. The keeper sat on it before going to fetch the payment.

Kamui loosened his shoulders and looked toward the Academy roofs beyond the trees. Children were beginning to appear on the road outside, some running ahead while their companions stopped at the stalls. He recognized Naruto's voice before he saw him.

"No, I'm telling you, it was this big."

Naruto came around the bend with his hands spread apart. Choji walked beside him carrying an open bag of crackers, while Shikamaru followed a few steps behind. Naruto nearly backed into the handcart before noticing who stood beside it.

"Kamui! You brought that?"

"Daichi and I did. Come around this side; we're taking the old one away."

Naruto stepped over the cart handle and waved his companions closer. "This is Kamui. The workshop I told you about? And that's Daichi."

Choji gave his name and shifted the cracker bag so he could raise a hand. Shikamaru introduced himself with a glance at the cart.

"You delivered a table to our house."

Kamui remembered the turn by the Nara compound and Shikaku pointing out the easier road home. "Your father's table. Is it all right?"

"He uses it."

"Tell him I oiled the axle. He reminded me last time."

Shikamaru looked at the wheel, then back at Kamui. "All right."

Naruto was already studying the new bench. "Can we sit on it?"

"That's what it's here for," Daichi said.

Choji sat first, putting his bag on his knees. Naruto climbed onto the seat beside him and stood to look over the back. His heel left a sandy print on the clean wood.

"Get down from there," Daichi said. "Someone else has to sit on that."

Naruto glanced at his sandals, then lowered himself to the seat. Kamui handed him a cloth from the cart. The boy began wiping the print, working harder at it when it spread into a pale smear.

"Use a clean fold," Kamui told him. "You're rubbing the dust around."

Naruto turned the cloth and tried again. Choji lifted his feet to give him room, continuing to eat while he waited. Shikamaru had stopped beside the old bench and was looking at the dark wood underneath.

"Are you throwing all of this away?"

"Not until we've taken it apart," Daichi said. "Some of the fittings may be worth keeping."

Naruto left the cloth on the new seat and joined him. He crouched beside a cracked rail, pressing the edge with his thumb.

"Could I use this for my shelf?"

Daichi turned it far enough for him to see the underside. A small patch crumbled where he touched it. Naruto pulled his hand away and wiped his thumb on his trousers.

"You have sound wood at the workshop already," the carpenter said. "Start with that."

"I need more if it's going to be big."

Kamui retrieved the cloth before the wind could take it. "Have you measured your room yet?"

Naruto held his hands apart again. "There's a space next to the bed. About this much."

"Between the bed and what?"

"The wall."

Choji leaned forward on the bench. "Where's your door?"

"Over there." Naruto pointed vaguely through the trees, then frowned. "Not there. On the other side."

Shikamaru picked up a twig and drew a rectangle in the dirt. "Like this?"

Naruto crouched beside him. He added the bed, moved the door when it ended up behind it, and began explaining where he kept his things. Kamui watched long enough to see that the shelf had grown wider than the original space.

"Bring a drawing like that with the lengths written down," he said. "Then we can see what fits."

"I don't have a rule."

"You can borrow one. Remind me when you're at the workshop."

Naruto considered the little room in the dirt. He scraped one wall away with his sandal and drew it farther out. Shikamaru looked at him.

"The room doesn't get bigger because you draw it bigger."

"I know that. I put it in the wrong place."

Kamui left them to settle the position of the wall. Daichi needed help turning the old bench, and its weight shifted awkwardly when one loose rail came away. Kamui lowered his end while the carpenter pulled it free.

"Keep back from that," he told the boys. "There are nails underneath."

Shikamaru moved the tool bag out of their way. Choji stood from the new seat to watch as they tipped the old bench onto its back, settled it on the cart, and put the loose rail beside it. Naruto fetched the rope, but Daichi asked him to wait until they had the cloth beneath the legs.

Choji held out his bag to Kamui while they paused.

"Want one?"

"Thanks." Kamui took a cracker and moved aside so the boy could offer the bag to Daichi too. The carpenter declined without looking up from the rope.

Naruto reached toward it. Choji drew the bag back against his chest.

"You had some on the way."

"Two."

"Three. You took two together."

Naruto began counting on his fingers, trying to reconstruct which crackers counted as separate helpings. Choji finished the one in his hand and waited for the argument to run out. Shikamaru returned to the shade, where the rough drawing of Naruto's room remained beside his foot.

Kamui ate his cracker and helped Daichi pass the rope beneath the frame. When Naruto came to watch, he gave him the free end.

"Hold that here. Don't pull yet."

Naruto kept the rope taut while Kamui brought the other end around. Daichi checked the knot and showed him where to tighten it. Once the bench was secure, Naruto gave it an experimental tug.

"It won't fall?"

"Not if we take the corners slowly," Kamui said. "You've left the cloth on the seat again."

Naruto went back for it. This time he inspected the bench after wiping it, bending to look along the wood as Kamui had done at the workshop. Choji sat down again when he finished.

The keeper returned with the payment and a receipt. While Daichi checked the figures, he asked whether the boys were from the Academy. Naruto answered at once and wanted to know whether the old bench had broken while anyone was sitting on it. The keeper said it had begun leaning during the spring and he had been trying to have it replaced ever since.

"My grandmother won't sit on one if it moves," Choji said.

"I don't blame her." The keeper put a hand on the back of the new bench. "She can try this one."

Choji looked pleased with that. Naruto asked how many people it would hold, and Daichi answered before he could suggest testing the number.

Shikamaru had settled against the tree with his knees drawn up. He did not join the questions, though he looked over when Naruto began asking about the brace beneath the seat. Kamui showed Naruto the joint on the old rail, where weather and movement had opened a gap. Then Daichi called him back to help secure the tools.

They stayed until the keeper had gone to put the receipt away. The sun was lower now, leaving most of the new bench in shade. Choji folded his empty snack bag and slipped it into a pocket.

"I should go. My mother's cooking."

Shikamaru stood too. "We were supposed to be back before supper."

Naruto brushed dirt from his hands and looked down the other path. "I'll walk around a bit."

Choji said goodbye to the carpenters. Shikamaru waited while he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, then followed him toward the gate. Neither boy tried to persuade Naruto to come.

Kamui tucked the spare cloths into the cart. Naruto remained beside him, picking at a loose fibre on the rope.

"Did you bring the turtle?" Kamui asked.

"It's at home. I'm still drawing the legs."

"Bring it when you come by. I want to see what you've changed."

Naruto looked toward his friends. They had slowed near the gate; Choji was talking, and Shikamaru had turned to answer him.

"Tomorrow, probably," Naruto said.

"We'll be there."

Naruto picked up his Academy bag. He took two steps down the path, stopped, then called Choji's name and ran after them. Shikamaru moved aside when he arrived, leaving room for him between them. The three went out through the gate together.

Daichi tested the ropes once more before taking his place behind the cart. Kamui lifted the handles and pulled it onto the path. The old bench was heavier than the new one, or perhaps the afternoon had simply caught up with his arms. They stopped at the park entrance to let a woman and her small daughter pass.

An elderly man was already approaching the new seat. He rested a hand on its back, lowered himself carefully, and set his parcel beside him. When Kamui looked back from the gate, the man had stretched his legs into the shade.

Daichi came around to help guide the cart over the uneven stones. They took the wider road home, with the folded cloths still tucked safely beside the toolbox.


Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

They brought the old bench back through the market and unloaded it beside the shed. Masato had gone, leaving the finished cupboard covered with a note about the fresh surface. Kamui read it before touching anything, then helped Daichi put the cart away and folded the cloths Masato had asked them to bring back.

By the time he had washed and changed his shirt, the market stalls were closing. He meant to buy something to take back to his room, but the smell from Ichiraku reached him at the corner. He followed it and lifted the curtain.

Teuchi was draining noodles. He glanced up, pointed Kamui toward an empty stool, and finished the bowl before coming over.

"Your usual?"

"Large, please. We were out with the cart most of the afternoon."

"Where to?"

"The park near the Academy. They wanted the old bench taken away as well."

Teuchi reached for another bowl. "Under the tree by the path? My father used to stop there on the way back from the market."

"That's the place. The keeper wanted it near enough for people to reach without crossing the grass."

Kamui settled at the counter, moving his knees to let a departing customer pass. The man gathered two parcels and went out with a reminder from Ayame not to turn the soup sideways. She watched him through the curtain before bringing Kamui water.

Behind her, a shelf held a stack of folded cloths. One bracket sat crooked against the wall.

"Has that always been like that?" he asked.

Ayame looked over her shoulder. "No. Father tightened it, and it came loose again."

"I was going to take it down," Teuchi said.

"You need to empty it first."

"I know."

Ayame began moving the cloths to a space under the counter while Teuchi dealt with the next order. Kamui waited until she returned, then asked whether she wanted Daichi to look at it.

"Could he? I don't want it coming down while we're busy."

"I'll put it in the book. He can tell you when there's time."

She found a pencil and wrote the request on the back of an old order slip, adding a description of the bracket. Kamui folded it into his pocket. Teuchi watched the note change hands, then set down Kamui's ramen and asked Ayame where she had put the serving cloths.

"Under there. On your left."

He found them and returned to the stove.

Kamui had eaten enough to take the edge off his hunger when Naruto arrived. The curtain caught on his bag, and he had to turn back to free it before he could get to the stool beside him.

"I thought you'd gone home," the boy said.

"I washed first. You caught up with Choji?"

"Yeah. Shikamaru says I have to draw the room again. The bed's wrong."

"Did he see your room?"

"No, the one in the dirt. I put the door where the window is." Naruto pulled his bag onto his lap, checked inside as though a better drawing might be there, and put it beneath the stool instead. "Can I borrow that rule tomorrow?"

"Ask me before you leave the workshop. We'll find one you can take."

Naruto ordered his ramen and leaned forward to see what Teuchi was preparing. He wanted extra narutomaki, but when Teuchi asked whether he was paying for another portion, he reconsidered and chose his usual bowl.

Ayame brought it over a few minutes later. Naruto took the first mouthful too quickly, stopped with his cheeks full, and reached for the water. Kamui moved his own glass closer when the boy grabbed the wrong one. Naruto drank, muttered that the noodles were hotter than usual, and began again more cautiously.

There were people talking outside the stand. A woman waiting for her parcel asked Ayame which road had the best lighting now that the stalls were closing. Two shinobi took the last stools and ordered without looking at the menu. Kamui shifted his bowl to give one of them room.

Naruto had been explaining a new route through the park when Iruka lifted the curtain.

"Oh. Iruka-sensei."

The teacher looked from Naruto to the empty space at the counter. "Evening. Are you two nearly finished?"

"I've just started," Naruto said, drawing his bowl closer.

"Take your time. I can wait."

Teuchi checked behind the counter and went into the back. He returned with a small wooden stool, set it at the end, and asked the customer nearest it to move over a little. Iruka thanked them and sat down with his bag between his feet.

Kamui noticed the stack of exercise books inside. A strip of paper marked one place, with more loose sheets tucked into the front.

"Still working?"

"I took these home yesterday and brought half of them back unmarked." Iruka moved the bag out of the aisle. "I thought I'd eat before I tried again."

Naruto stirred his noodles. Iruka ordered, accepted water from Ayame, and asked how their afternoon had gone.

"We put a bench in the park," Naruto said.

"You did?"

"Kamui and Daichi did. I helped with the rope."

"And cleaned the seat," Kamui added.

Naruto looked at him, waiting for more. Kamui took another mouthful, and the boy returned to the story. He described the old bench, the bad wood underneath it, and the way Daichi had shown them which parts were rotten. Iruka listened while Teuchi prepared his bowl.

"Is that where you and Shikamaru went after class?" he asked.

"Choji too."

"Did you get any of your assignment done before you went?"

Naruto lowered his chopsticks. "We only stayed a little while."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I did some at school."

Iruka waited. Naruto looked into his bowl, counted something under his breath, and admitted he still had the questions on the second page.

"Finish those tonight. If you don't understand one, leave the working so I can see where you stopped."

"But you mark them wrong if they're not finished."

"I mark an answer wrong if it's wrong. I can still help you with it. I can't do much with a blank page."

Naruto picked up his chopsticks again. He did not agree, but he didn't argue further either. Teuchi brought Iruka's bowl and asked whether he wanted the usual topping. The teacher had forgotten to specify it and thanked him for remembering.

For a while, the conversation stayed with the shop. Ayame needed a delivery moved earlier because the supplier kept arriving during the busiest part of lunch. Teuchi thought the man couldn't get through the market sooner. Iruka mentioned seeing his cart near the Academy before the first bell, and Ayame said she would ask him directly next time.

Naruto finished eating before the others. He checked the coins in his purse, put his payment beside the bowl, and waited for Teuchi to count it. Kamui moved his elbow so he could get his bag out from beneath the stool.

"You going straight home?" Iruka asked.

Naruto pulled one strap over his shoulder. "To do the second page. I heard you."

"Bring both pages tomorrow."

The boy turned at the curtain. "I always bring them!"

"Then put them in your bag when you're done."

Naruto went outside still objecting, but he called goodnight to Teuchi before hurrying down the road. Iruka watched the curtain settle and took another mouthful. His noodles had cooled while he was talking.

Kamui reached for his water. "Does he get stuck on the questions, or does he leave them because he doesn't want to do them?"

"Both. Sometimes he starts rushing because someone else has already finished. Then he makes a mistake he wouldn't have made if he'd read the question."

"He wants to build a shelf. We haven't got as far as the measurements yet."

Iruka looked up. "For his apartment?"

"He's planning one, anyway. He has some sound pieces from an old stool. He might need more once we know what fits."

The teacher asked what Naruto had done with the stool, and Kamui told him about dismantling it. He kept the account practical: the damaged joint, the screwdriver that had bent, the sanding Naruto had stayed to finish.

"He returned the tool himself?" Iruka asked.

"Masato repaired it. Naruto took it back and told the owner what happened."

Iruka set his chopsticks across his bowl. "I'm glad he did that."

"He wasn't pleased about having to explain."

"No. He wouldn't be." Iruka glanced toward the curtain, then back to Kamui. "I don't want him thinking a mistake means the whole job's over. He does that in class. If the first part goes badly, getting him to try the rest can take longer than teaching it."

Kamui thought of Naruto arriving with the broken pieces. "He came back with the wood. I wasn't sure he would."

"He likes being there."

"He seems to. Yesterday he spent more time deciding what a damaged block looked like than I spent cutting it. It's a turtle now."

Iruka asked about the turtle, and Kamui explained that it was still mostly a block. The boy had taken it home with a drawing and was working out the legs. Teuchi listened while wiping the empty place beside them.

"I'd like to see it when he's finished," he said.

"Ask him next time. He'll bring it."

Iruka turned back to the shelf. He wanted to know how Naruto intended to measure the room, and Kamui admitted they hadn't settled that either. He could show the boy how to use a rule, but he didn't know what the class had covered.

"Lengths, simple diagrams, some fractions," Iruka said. "He can read the marks. Keeping the number attached to the right part of a drawing is another matter."

Ayame lent him a pencil. He flattened a paper wrapper on the counter and drew a rough rectangle, with a gap on one side for the door. Kamui watched him add short lines to show where each measurement belonged.

"Something like that," Iruka said. "Don't ask him to do the whole room at once if he keeps losing his place. Let him mark one length before he measures another."

Kamui turned the wrapper toward him. "And if the space beside the bed isn't square?"

"Draw it as it is. It doesn't need to look neat."

Ayame brought the pencil back to its place behind the counter. Iruka picked up his chopsticks and returned to the last of his meal while Kamui folded the diagram inside the repair note.

"I'll try that. I don't want to make the shelf for him just because he's taking longer."

"He'll object while you're making him do it," Iruka said. "That doesn't mean he wants you to stop."

Kamui paid his bill while the teacher searched his pockets for change. Teuchi took the coins and asked whether the new park bench was close enough to the path for someone carrying shopping. Kamui explained where they had put it and mentioned the elderly man who had already found the shade.

Ayame reminded him about the bracket before he left. He touched his pocket to show he still had the note, thanked them for the meal, and stepped into the street with Iruka.

The market had thinned. A shopkeeper was bringing in baskets, and the smell of cooking came from the upper windows. They walked together for a little while, moving aside for a wagon with a single lantern hanging beside the driver.

"Would you come and look at the shelf when it's finished?" Kamui asked.

"If Naruto asks me. I'd like that."

Kamui accepted the distinction. The boy could decide when he wanted his teacher to see it.

At the next corner, Iruka stopped to adjust his bag. Kamui offered to carry the books part of the way, but the teacher shifted the weight and said his turn was just ahead. He wanted to check something at the Academy before going home.

They said goodnight at the intersection. Kamui took the road back to the workshop, where the covered cupboard stood exactly as Masato had left it. He wrote Ayame's request in the collection book and placed Iruka's diagram beside it.

Naruto's bundle was on the shelf over the low bench. Kamui checked the tool rack for a rule small enough to fit in the boy's bag, then left it where it belonged. He could lend it when Naruto came; it would be better to explain which marks to use while the boy was holding it.

He put the papers beneath the book so they wouldn't blow away when the doors opened in the morning, checked the lock, and took the lamp to his room.


Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!

 

[abyssalmandate]

The cabinet joint fitted when Kamui held it in his hands. In the frame, it stopped short.

He took it apart and checked the shoulder again. He could see no ridge, no shaving caught beneath it, nothing to explain the gap that appeared when he pressed the pieces together. Across the workshop, Daichi was sanding a tabletop near the open door.

"Can you look at this before I cut anything else?"

Daichi set down his paper and came over. He tried the joint once, lifted the end Kamui had been pressing down, and eased it into place.

"You're twisting it as you push. Keep this end level."

Kamui took it apart and tried again. This time he supported the weight rather than forcing the corner. The gap closed.

"There. I thought I needed to take more off."

"Good thing you asked first." Daichi checked the fit and went back to the tabletop. "Mark the pieces before you separate them."

Kamui marked the inside faces. He laid them out in order, then checked the next pair before reaching for his plane. The heat had already reached the rear of the workshop, where Masato was working with the doors of a small cupboard spread beside him. Nobody had much to say until a woman came to collect a repaired drawer.

She wanted to know whether the runners would need oil. Daichi explained what he had done and asked her to try the movement. Kamui held the case steady while she pulled the drawer all the way out, looked at the new runner, and put it back. She tried it twice more before paying.

When she left with the drawer and its case, Kamui cleared the packing cloths and returned to his cabinet. On the way past, he checked the chair he had been fitting between paid jobs. The frame was ready; the backrest needed sanding before he could apply the finish. He put it beside the rear bench, where he could work on it when there was space, and had barely begun planing the cabinet edge when Naruto arrived.

The boy put his Academy bag beneath the low bench and sat on the crate beside it. He watched Kamui finish the stroke before speaking.

"I did the second page."

Kamui set the plane on its side. "How did it go?"

"I got some wrong."

"Did Iruka show you where?"

"He says my numbers move around. They don't move around."

Naruto pulled out the exercise book to demonstrate. Kamui wiped his hands before taking it. The page held several crossed-out answers, a dark smudge near the bottom, and a small line drawn between two numbers that had drifted into the same space.

He could see what Iruka meant, but Naruto was watching him closely.

"I can read this one," he said, pointing to the top. "What's the number here?"

"That's a three."

"I thought it was an eight."

Naruto leaned over his arm, examined the mark, and turned the book slightly. "The pencil broke."

"Have you got another?"

"In the bag."

"Use that one when you draw your room. Daichi needs to read it too."

Kamui returned the book and showed him the diagram Iruka had drawn at Ichiraku. Naruto recognized the kind of plan immediately. He seemed less pleased to discover that it had come from his teacher, but he took the paper and studied it while Kamui found a short rule.

They checked the marks together. Naruto could read the whole numbers and most of the divisions between them; he rushed when he thought he already knew where Kamui was pointing. Kamui let him finish before moving his finger back to the mark they had started with.

"The space beside the bed first," he said. "Write that down before you measure something else."

Naruto put the rule beside his exercise book. "What if the shelf won't fit?"

"Then we change the shelf."

The boy considered that, then folded the diagram inside his book. He stayed on the crate while Kamui returned to the cabinet, occasionally nudging a curl of cedar away from his sandal.

He had begun collecting the longer shavings when Shikamaru appeared beneath the eaves. The boy stood out of the sun, looking into the room until Naruto noticed him.

"Oh. I was coming."

"I waited at the corner."

"I came here first. I thought you'd go past."

"You said you'd meet me there."

Naruto put down the shaving he had been twisting. "Sorry. I forgot."

Shikamaru looked at the exercise book on the bench. "Are you still doing homework?"

"No. I finished it." Naruto left the book on the bench, beside the borrowed rule. "We can go."

Shikamaru did not move at once. His attention had shifted to the cabinet frame, where Kamui was checking the pieces against his marks. A small book protruded from the boy's own bag. He pulled it back from the doorway when Daichi passed with the tabletop.

"You can put that on the low bench," Kamui said. "There's dust on the floor."

Shikamaru set the bag down and watched him fit the joint. Naruto noticed the book and pulled it halfway out before his friend took it from him. It was about board games, borrowed from the library. Shikamaru checked the page marker before returning it to his bag; Naruto hadn't even looked beyond the cover.

"What is it?" Shikamaru asked.

"A cabinet. The doors aren't on yet."

"Do you have to make all the pieces before you know if they fit?"

"I check as I go. This one needed adjusting."

Shikamaru looked along the row of marked timber without touching it. Kamui offered to show him the loose pair, but the boy said he could see from there. He seemed comfortable with that distance.

Daichi came back from the front with a box of offcuts. They needed the larger sound pieces for repairs, and the box had become too full to search without emptying it. He put it on the floor away from the doorway.

"If you're staying, I could use a hand sorting these."

"We're going," Naruto said.

"All right. Leave them, then."

Naruto looked into the box. There were pieces he recognized from work he had watched, along with narrow strips and irregular ends that scarcely seemed worth keeping. He took out one with a curved edge.

"What pile would this go in?"

"Odd shapes over here." Daichi laid a sample beside the box. He chose two more pieces to show the lengths he wanted kept apart. "Sound wood only. If there's a nail in it, put it aside for me."

Naruto placed the curved piece beside the sample. Shikamaru crouched to examine the box, then asked how much space the sorted piles could occupy.

"Up to that board," Daichi said. "Keep the walkway clear."

Kamui moved his feet when the first pieces came out. Naruto began making piles near the box, but he put each new piece wherever there was an empty patch of floor. Shikamaru gathered several back together.

"Keep the long ones on this side."

"I'm putting these here."

"You've already put long ones over there. Then we'll have to move them again."

Naruto looked at the two piles, picked up the nearer one, and shifted it. He did not like being directed, but once Shikamaru had left clear spaces for the different lengths, the job went faster. They could empty the box without either of them reaching across the other.

Neither knew what to do with a piece containing a shallow split. Naruto thought they could cut the end away. Shikamaru wanted to put it with the doubtful pieces. They took it to Daichi, who drew a pencil mark below the split and told them to keep the sound part.

Soon they had a small pile waiting for the same decision. Daichi came over to examine it, named the woods as he moved them, and showed them the softer edge of a piece Naruto had thought sound. Shikamaru listened, then asked whether the wood had to be separated by kind too.

"Not today. I'll choose what I need from the lengths. Don't give yourselves another job."

Shikamaru returned to the box. Naruto followed, carrying the curved strip he had put aside at the start.

"This looks like a fish," he told Kamui. "If that end was the tail."

Kamui turned the piece over. The curve was already there, broadening toward one end. He held it against the light so Naruto could see the grain run through it.

"You could use this part for the body. That thin bit might break if we make it much narrower."

"Could you make it?"

"I'd like to try. I've got to finish this first."

Naruto set it beside the cloth on Kamui's bench. He looked toward his own bundle, then remembered the turtle was still at home. When Kamui asked whether he had changed the drawing, he said he had made the legs shorter but wasn't sure he liked them yet.

"Bring it when you want us to look."

"I will. Don't use that fish bit for something else."

Kamui put it on the shelf with his small practice pieces, where it wouldn't be swept into the scrap box. Naruto checked the spot before returning to Shikamaru.

They finished with three groups of usable lengths, a handful of doubtful pieces, and the odd shapes set together. Daichi brought over two smaller boxes and asked them to put the short pieces inside. Shikamaru stacked them flat while Naruto gathered the strips.

"Thank you," Daichi said when they were done. "I can find what I need now."

Naruto looked into the empty box. "There was a lot in there."

"There was." Daichi took the boxes to the storage shelf, leaving the longer pieces where he could choose from them later.

Shikamaru brushed his palms against his trousers and picked up his bag. Naruto began to sit again, saw him waiting, and reached for his own.

"Are we still going to the shop?"

"If it's open."

"It'll be open."

Shikamaru looked toward the doorway. "You said that about meeting at the corner."

Naruto stopped with the strap halfway over his shoulder. "I said I was sorry."

"I know. Come on."

They might have begun another argument, but Shikamaru was already outside. Naruto put his exercise book into the bag, then Kamui reminded him about the rule. The boy wrapped it inside the drawing so it wouldn't fall between the books.

"Bring it back when you've measured," Kamui said. "We use that one."

Naruto checked the pocket twice, then hurried out after his friend. Their voices reached the workshop for a little while as they decided which street to take.

Kamui returned to the cabinet. The marked pieces were still laid out in order, and he fitted the first corner without having to try it twice. Daichi came over to hold the longer side while he checked the frame.

Outside, Shikamaru slowed at the end of the street to let Naruto catch up.

"You were going to sit there all afternoon?"

"Maybe. I didn't know what you wanted to do."

"I was waiting for you to tell me."

Naruto looked back. From the corner he could still see the open doors, though the men inside were hidden behind the cabinet.

"I like it there," he said.

Shikamaru adjusted his bag. "It's cooler than the corner."

"We could've stayed."

"We've been there ages. I'm hungry."

Naruto turned toward the market at once. He began explaining which stall might still have dumplings, and Shikamaru followed him away from the workshop.

Inside, Kamui held the frame while Daichi measured across the corners. One measurement differed slightly from the other. They adjusted the angle, checked it again, and fitted the clamp before the wood could move back.

The curved scrap remained on Kamui's shelf. He left it where Naruto would be able to find it, checked the cabinet clamps with Daichi, and brought the chair back to his bench. There was time to finish sanding the backrest before closing. Once Daichi had checked the surface, Kamui applied the finish and set the chair away from the dust, with a cloth beneath it to catch the drips.
Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story and following Kamui's journey through Konoha.

If you're enjoying Naruto: Spiral of Inheritance and would like to read ahead, you can find advance chapters on my Patreon, along with my other fanfiction projects.

Of course, there's absolutely no pressure to subscribe! Every comment, review, and bit of feedback means a lot to me and helps keep me motivated to continue writing.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/AbyssalMandate

Thanks again for your support, and I'll see you in the next chapter!