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. In those scenes, there was always movement somewhere. Shinobi crossed the rooftops on their way to missions, merchants argued with customers in the market, children ran through the streets, and some minor commotion seemed to be happening no matter where the camera happened to be pointing.

Now that he was actually here, the silence between those sounds was what caught his attention.

A cart rolled down the road below him, its wooden wheels creaking as it passed. Somewhere beyond the trees, a bird called twice before going quiet. Farther ahead, the first sounds of the village carried faintly through the afternoon air: a vendor calling out his prices, a hammer striking metal, people talking as they went about their day.

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

There was Konoha.

The Hokage Monument rose above the rooftops in the distance, its stone faces illuminated by the afternoon sun. He had seen them so many times that he could have recognized them from memory, but the real thing still felt strangely unfamiliar.

It was bigger than he expected.

The village was too.

For a while, Kamui simply looked.

He had imagined arriving here countless times, but none of those daydreams had included the practical details. There was no dramatic entrance waiting for him, no mysterious figure appearing from the shadows, and certainly no convenient system popping up to tell him what to do next.

What he had was an old backpack, a staff tied across his back, a few belongings, and enough money to make the problem of food someone else's problem for perhaps a day.

Kamui looked down at his clothes.

Dusty.

He had been wearing them for too long.

He checked one of the backpack straps.

Still intact.

That, at least, was a victory.

His attention returned to the village.

Back on Earth, Naruto had been more than a series he watched when he had nothing else to do. Whenever life became difficult, there had always been something comforting about returning to that story. Naruto would get beaten down, complain about it, shout at someone, and then stubbornly get back up and keep going.

That loud blond idiot was somewhere inside this village now.

The thought felt different when there were actual rooftops separating them.

Somewhere below, Naruto was still just a child. He had no idea what his future looked like, no idea how many people would eventually stand beside him, and no understanding of why so many adults around him had chosen to look away.

Kamui's expression became quieter.

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

He slapped both cheeks lightly.

"You're not here to play hero."

The sting made him blink.

He laughed under his breath.

"And stop talking to yourself. People are going to think you're crazy."

A moment later, he scratched the back of his head.

"…They'll probably think that anyway."

That settled it.

There was no reason to keep standing there.

Kamui adjusted his backpack and started down the hill.

Whatever came next, he'd deal with it when he got there.

---

The guards at Konoha's gate noticed him almost immediately.

Kamui couldn't blame them.

He was young, perhaps nineteen or twenty, with travel-worn clothes and no visible connection to any shinobi village. There was no forehead protector around his neck, no clan symbol on his clothing, and no obvious reason for him to be walking toward the gates alone with a backpack and a plain staff strapped across his back.

One of the guards raised a hand.

"Stop there."

Kamui stopped.

The guard looked him over carefully.

"Name?"

"Kamui."

"Family name?"

Kamui hesitated.

"…Long story."

The guard waited.

Kamui waited too.

The silence stretched long enough that he eventually gave the man an apologetic smile.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that."

The younger guard standing beside him looked away, apparently trying not to laugh.

The older one wasn't amused.

"You a missing-nin?"

"No."

"A mercenary?"

"No."

"A merchant?"

Kamui glanced at his backpack.

It looked more like something a poor traveler would carry than a merchant's stockroom.

"…Definitely not."

The younger guard folded his arms.

"So what exactly are you?"

Kamui considered the question.

"A traveler."

The older guard stared at him.

Kamui stared back.

Neither seemed satisfied.

Fortunately, a third shinobi approached from inside the village carrying several sheets of paper.

"What happened?"

"Traveler," the older guard said.

The newcomer stopped in front of Kamui.

"You have identification?"

"No."

"Letter of introduction?"

"No."

"Someone in the village expecting you?"

Kamui shook his head.

The shinobi gave him a longer look.

"You're aware this is not the usual way people arrive here?"

"I had a feeling."

That earned a quiet snort from the younger guard.

The newcomer ignored it.

"You have money?"

"A little."

"Where did you come from?"

Kamui paused.

That was one question he genuinely couldn't answer.

Not without sounding insane.

"Far away."

"How far?"

Kamui looked toward the road behind him.

"Very."

The three shinobi exchanged glances.

The younger guard finally spoke.

"That's not exactly helpful."

"I know."

Kamui rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm trying to find work."

That changed the conversation slightly.

The newcomer looked at him again.

"What kind of work?"

Kamui shrugged.

"I can carry things. I can clean. I can learn."

"You're not a shinobi?"

"No."

"Any combat training?"

"Nothing worth mentioning."

The answer was honest enough.

He didn't have a secret technique to show them, and there was no point pretending he did.

The newcomer glanced down at the documents in his hands, then toward the village.

After a few more questions, they issued Kamui a temporary visitor's permit. The older guard handed him a small wooden tag.

"Cause trouble and you're out."

Kamui accepted it carefully.

"I'll do my best."

The guard frowned.

"To stay out of trouble?"

Kamui grinned.

"I was talking about surviving."

The younger guard laughed outright this time.

The older one gave Kamui a tired look before waving him through.

"Go on."

"Yes, sir."

Kamui stepped through the gate.

For some reason, he had expected the moment to feel more important.

Instead, the first thing he noticed was a woman yelling at a delivery man because one of the crates on his cart was broken.

The delivery man was yelling back.

A child nearby was watching them with obvious interest.

Kamui smiled.

"Yeah."

He glanced around.

"Definitely Konoha."

He continued down the street.

---

The village was smaller than he had imagined from the story and larger than he had expected from memory.

He recognized pieces of it everywhere, but they never quite matched what he remembered. Buildings looked older. Roads were uneven in places. A few shops had been repaired recently, and one house had a fresh wooden beam supporting part of its roof.

Those little details made the village feel more real than anything else.

This wasn't a backdrop anymore.

People actually lived here.

A woman stood outside her home hanging laundry while talking to her neighbor. Two children were arguing over a wooden toy, each accusing the other of cheating. An old man sat outside a shop with a cup of tea, watching people pass.

Further down the street, a blacksmith struck a glowing piece of metal with steady, practiced blows. The smell of hot iron drifted through the air.

Nobody was thinking about Madara Uchiha.

Nobody was worried about Pain.

Nobody knew that years from now, this same village would become the center of battles that would shake the entire shinobi world.

For these people, Konoha was simply home.

Kamui slowed without realizing it.

That was the part that had always been easy to forget when watching a story like this. The great battles were memorable because they were extraordinary, but most lives were made up of moments that would never become famous.

People worked.

People ate.

People complained.

People went home.

Tomorrow they would wake up and do it again.

Kamui found himself smiling.

"…Let's keep it that way for as long as we can."

He continued toward the market.

His stomach had started complaining some time ago, but he'd been ignoring it.

It complained again.

Louder this time.

Kamui stopped beside a shop and looked down at himself.

"Right."

He patted the pocket where his remaining coins were kept.

"Food."

Another thought followed.

"Somewhere to sleep."

And after that, he'd figure out work.

He looked around at the shops lining the street. There were plenty of businesses, but none of them seemed particularly interested in hiring a stranger who had walked into the village that afternoon.

Kamui rubbed his chin.

"Maybe I should start with the obvious."

He looked toward the market.

"Eat something cheap."

He had barely taken three steps before a gust of wind carried the smell of freshly cut cedar from somewhere nearby.

Kamui glanced to the side.

A narrow street branched away from the market, and at the far end he could just make out stacks of timber beside a wooden building.

He considered it for a moment.

Then the hunger won.

"Later."

He turned back toward the market.

There would be time to investigate the village.

For now, he was just another traveler who had arrived in Konoha with no connections, no reputation, and no clear idea of what tomorrow would look like.

That wasn't a bad thing.

At least tomorrow was his to figure out.
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 had expected. The second was that carrying a backpack around all day made people assume he was either a traveler or unemployed. Both assumptions were correct.

He stood outside a modest inn, staring at the small wooden board hanging beside the entrance.

No Vacancy.

Kamui stared at it for another moment before scratching the back of his head. "Well... that makes the decision easier."

There was no point standing there hoping the sign would suddenly change its mind, so he adjusted the strap of his backpack and turned back toward the street. Morning had already taken over the village. Vendors were rolling open shutters, shopkeepers were sweeping yesterday's dust away from their entrances, and the smell of fresh bread drifted between the buildings. Somewhere nearby, a woman was arguing with a delivery man about a broken crate, while farther down the street two children were already fighting over something neither of them seemed willing to give up.

It felt normal.

That was probably the strangest part. Kamui had spent years imagining Konoha as the village where the important events happened, where powerful shinobi gathered and the fate of the world seemed to change every few months. Standing in it now, most of the people around him were worrying about vegetables, deliveries, rent, and whether a shopkeeper had charged them too much. Nobody looked particularly heroic.

Kamui found himself smiling.

Then his stomach growled.

He glanced toward a nearby food stall, considered changing direction, and reluctantly slipped a hand into his pocket instead. The coins were still there, but there weren't enough to make him careless with them. Breakfast would become lunch, lunch would become dinner, and dinner would eventually become tomorrow. Apparently, becoming a resident of another world came with the same annoying financial responsibilities as being alive in the first one.

"Fine," he muttered. "Work first."

That part turned out to be much harder than he had expected.

The first shopkeeper listened politely and shook his head. The second said they already had enough workers. The third didn't even finish hearing Kamui's explanation before apologizing and returning to his work. By the time Kamui reached a blacksmith's shop, his optimism had taken several hits.

The blacksmith was a broad man covered in soot, hammering at a piece of metal when Kamui approached. He glanced over without stopping his work. "You looking for work?"

"That obvious?"

"You've been staring at my shop for thirty seconds."

Kamui glanced toward the road. "I was trying to decide how desperate I looked."

The blacksmith gave him a brief look. "And?"

"Bad?"

"Not terrible."

Kamui smiled. "Good."

"What can you do?"

Kamui thought about it. "I can carry things. Clean. Learn."

"You've worked in a forge before?"

"No."

"Construction?"

"No."

"Any trade?"

"Not really."

The blacksmith rested his hammer for a moment, looking him over again. "So you're looking for anything."

"Pretty much."

The man's eyes wandered over Kamui's travel-worn clothes and then toward the staff tied across his back. "You can lift?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I haven't had the chance to prove it yet."

The blacksmith pointed toward a stack of metal beside the forge. "Come back after you've grown another pair of arms."

Kamui looked down at his own hands. "I was rather hoping these would be enough."

The blacksmith laughed under his breath. "Good luck."

"Thanks. I think."

Kamui stepped away from the shop with a laugh of his own.

By midday, he'd had no better luck. He stopped near the market and sat on the edge of a wooden platform, pulling the coins from his pocket and counting them again. The number, predictably, hadn't changed. Kamui stared at them for a moment before closing his hand.

"This is going great."

"You don't sound convinced."

Kamui looked up.

An old man stood beside a wagon loaded with timber.

Kamui's first thought was that the man looked like someone who belonged around heavy wood. He had broad shoulders, thick forearms, and the kind of hands that immediately told a story. The skin around his palms was hardened from years of work, several fingers carried old scars, and faint white lines marked one wrist where some injury from long ago had healed badly. His beard was mostly grey, his hair had thinned around the temples, and sawdust clung to the front of his work clothes as if he'd stopped caring about brushing it off hours ago.

He wasn't imposing in the way a shinobi could be. There was no visible weapon, no forehead protector, no obvious sign of anything extraordinary. Yet Kamui instinctively sat a little straighter when the old man looked at him. The carpenter's eyes were calm and sharp, the kind of eyes that seemed to take in details without making a show of it.

"You've been walking around here all morning," the old man said. "Looking for something?"

Kamui glanced back toward the shops. "A job."

"Any luck?"

"I'm starting to think Konoha has enough workers."

"That doesn't mean they want you."

Kamui gave him a wounded look. "That's a harsh way to greet someone."

"You're still standing there."

"So you're saying I survived."

"I suppose."

Kamui smiled.

The old man nodded toward the wagon. "You need a job?"

"Yes."

"What can you do?"

Kamui glanced at the timber. "I can carry things."

The carpenter looked at the wagon. "Can you carry those?"

Kamui followed his gaze. "That depends."

"On what?"

"How heavy they are."

The old man stared at him for a moment.

Kamui sighed. "I know. Terrible answer."

"Not terrible." The man's mouth twitched slightly. "Just useless."

That got a laugh out of Kamui. "Fair enough."

The carpenter stepped toward the wagon and pulled one of the larger pieces of timber loose. He dropped it to the ground with a heavy thud before looking back at Kamui.

"Try that."

Kamui looked down, then back up. "That one?"

"You said you could carry."

"I did."

"So?"

Kamui rolled his shoulders. "All right."

He crouched beside the timber and got both hands underneath it. The piece was heavier than he'd expected, enough that he had to adjust his footing before he could lift it properly. When he finally got it off the ground, the carpenter nodded toward the workshop across the street.

"Inside."

Kamui carried it over.

The workshop was larger than he'd expected, with stacks of timber along one wall, several half-finished pieces of furniture near the benches, and tools arranged with enough order that Kamui immediately guessed the owner wasn't fond of people leaving things wherever they pleased. He set the timber down where he'd been told and looked back.

The carpenter was watching him.

"Again."

Kamui stared at him. "You don't usually ask a few questions first?"

"I did."

"When?"

The old man pointed at the timber. "That was the answer."

Kamui laughed. "You're serious."

"Yes."

"All right."

He went back for another piece.

And another.

And another.

The old man's name, Kamui would learn later, was Daichi. For the moment, he was simply the carpenter who kept pointing at pieces of wood and saying, "That one."

By the time the wagon was empty, Kamui's shoulders were beginning to burn. He wiped the sweat from his face and looked toward Daichi.

"You know, I was starting to think you'd hire me after I carried the entire village inside."

Daichi didn't look particularly impressed. "You've got a long way to go before you've carried the village."

Kamui blinked. "That sounded like a challenge."

"It wasn't."

"Too late."

Daichi shook his head and walked back into the workshop.

Kamui followed.

The work didn't end with the timber. There were smaller pieces that needed sorting, scraps that had to be cleared away, finished furniture that needed moving, and several stacks that apparently had to be placed in exactly the right position because Daichi noticed whenever something was even slightly out of place.

Kamui started to understand that the man's quietness wasn't the same thing as indifference. He noticed everything. When Kamui stacked two planks badly, Daichi moved one of them into place without saying anything.

Kamui looked at the stack. "You could've just told me."

"I was busy."

"So you fixed it yourself."

"For now."

Kamui laughed. "That means I'll get the next one."

"That means you should have learned from this one."

Kamui nodded. "Right."

A little later, another worker came in from the back of the workshop carrying several smaller boards under one arm. He was around Kamui's age, perhaps a little younger, with dark hair tied loosely behind his head and sawdust dusting the shoulders of his work shirt.

He set the boards beside a bench and glanced at Kamui.

"New?"

Kamui looked over. "That obvious?"

The young man smiled. "A little."

Daichi spoke without looking up. "He's helping for the day."

"Good. I could use another pair of hands."

Kamui glanced between them. "You actually get paid for this?"

The young man laughed. "Most days."

"Most?"

"Depends on whether Daichi thinks we did the work properly."

Daichi finally looked over.

"You have something to add?"

The young man immediately shook his head. "No."

"Then get back to work."

He grinned and turned away.

Kamui looked at him.

"You're brave."

"No, I'm experienced."

Kamui laughed.

The young man held out a hand when he passed.

"Masato."

Kamui shook it. "Kamui."

Masato nodded toward the pile of timber.

"Come on. If you're going to survive your first day, you might as well learn where everything goes."

The more they worked, the more Kamui found himself settling into the rhythm of the workshop. Masato showed him which stacks were kept for larger furniture, which scraps were worth saving, and which tools absolutely had to be returned to their places. Daichi rarely bothered explaining those things twice.

When Kamui put a chisel down on the wrong bench, Masato moved it back.

"Wrong place."

Kamui glanced at him. "How was I supposed to know?"

"You weren't."

"That feels unfair."

"Give it a week."

"You're saying I'll learn?"

"I'm saying Daichi will yell at you before then."

From across the room came Daichi's voice.

"I don't yell."

Masato looked toward him.

"You're yelling now."

"I am speaking."

Kamui covered his mouth to hide a laugh.

Daichi gave him a look.

Kamui quickly returned to his work.

Later, Daichi stopped beside him while Kamui was moving another load. "Lift from underneath."

Kamui adjusted his grip. "Like this?"

"Better."

"That's all?"

"What do you want?"

"A compliment."

"You're not getting one."

Kamui grinned. "Worth asking."

Daichi walked away, and Kamui went back to work.

By the middle of the afternoon, his arms were aching badly enough that he finally stopped beside the workbench and stretched his shoulders. Masato was sitting nearby, rubbing one of his wrists while waiting for a piece of wood to finish drying.

"You get used to it," he said.

Kamui looked over. "The pain?"

"The work."

"That didn't answer my question."

Masato shrugged. "Same thing, some days."

Kamui laughed.

Daichi glanced over from his bench. "You planning on collapsing?"

"I was thinking about it."

"Do it after you finish that stack."

Kamui looked at the remaining timber. "That feels a little cruel."

"It's practical."

Daichi tossed him a flask.

Kamui caught it and took a drink. The water was warm, and he made a face.

Daichi noticed. "Problem?"

"No."

"Then drink it."

Kamui laughed. "You really do have an answer for everything."

"No." The old carpenter returned to his work. "Just enough answers."

Masato chuckled quietly.

Kamui looked toward him. "What's funny?"

"You'll understand eventually."

"That's becoming a workshop tradition."

Masato smiled and went back to his work.

Kamui shook his head and kept working.

The afternoon gradually slipped away. By late afternoon, the last piece was finally put away. Kamui straightened, immediately regretted it when his shoulders protested, and let out a groan.

Daichi glanced toward the window. "Enough for today."

Kamui looked at him. "That's it?"

"It's getting dark."

Kamui looked outside. The afternoon had disappeared without him noticing.

"Didn't feel that long."

"You were busy."

"I noticed."

Daichi wiped his hands with a cloth before reaching into his pocket. He counted several coins and held them toward Kamui.

"You worked hard."

Kamui accepted them. The amount wasn't large, but it was honest money. His first payment in Konoha.

"Thank you."

Daichi nodded. "Don't spend it all on ramen."

Kamui slipped the coins into his pocket. "No promises."

Masato glanced over from the other bench. "Ramen already?"

Kamui looked at him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It gets expensive when you eat it every day."

"That's why I need a better salary."

Masato laughed. "Good luck with that."

Kamui was about to head toward the door when Daichi spoke again.

"You got somewhere to sleep?"

Kamui stopped and turned around slowly. "Was hoping we could avoid that question."

"Why?"

"Because the answer is embarrassing."

Daichi waited.

Kamui rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have anywhere yet."

"You haven't found an inn?"

"Everything decent is full."

"And the rest?"

"Too expensive."

Daichi thought about it for a moment, then nodded toward the back of the workshop. "There's a storage room."

Kamui followed his gaze. "A storage room?"

"There's a futon in it."

"That sounds better than the street."

"It is."

Kamui smiled. "Can I pay rent?"

"Later."

"I don't want to take advantage of you."

Daichi looked at him. "You worked all day."

"I did."

"You'll work tomorrow too."

Kamui paused. "That part sounded less generous."

A faint smile tugged at the old man's mouth. "You wanted honesty."

"I did ask for a place to sleep, not a contract with a tyrant."

Masato laughed under his breath.

Daichi looked toward him.

Masato immediately went back to sorting the boards. "Sorry."

Daichi shook his head and looked back at Kamui. "You're troublesome."

"I've known people who would disagree."

"I doubt it."

Kamui laughed, and Daichi nodded toward the back of the workshop. "Go look at it."

Kamui followed Daichi through the workshop.

The room was small, but it was clean. There was a narrow window, a wooden shelf against the wall, a cracked washbasin, and a rolled futon waiting in the corner.

Kamui looked around. "It'll do."

"Good."

"I can really stay here?"

"Until you find somewhere else."

Kamui looked back at him. "I'll work for it."

Daichi gave him a short nod. "I know."

There was something oddly reassuring about the way he said it. Not because Daichi knew Kamui—he didn't—but because he had watched him work for the better part of a day and apparently decided that was enough to give him a chance.

Kamui smiled. "Thank you."

Daichi inclined his head once.

"Get some sleep."

The old carpenter left him there.

Kamui sat on the futon for a moment before letting himself fall backward. After two days on the road, the room felt almost luxurious.

A little while later, Masato appeared in the doorway with a folded blanket.

"Forgot this."

Kamui sat up and took it. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Masato glanced around the room.

"Not exactly a palace."

"I've slept in worse places."

"You have?"

Kamui realized his mistake.

"Long story."

Masato smiled but didn't push.

Instead, he nodded toward the room. "Daichi doesn't usually let strangers stay here."

Kamui looked toward the workshop.

"I noticed."

"He probably likes that you worked without complaining."

"I complained."

"You talked more than you complained."

"That's fair."

Masato smiled.

"Well, don't make him regret it."

"I won't."

Masato started to leave, then looked back.

"Tomorrow starts early."

Kamui sighed.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Because Daichi keeps saying it."

"That sounds like a problem for all of us."

Masato laughed and disappeared back into the workshop.

Kamui leaned against the wall, listening to the sounds outside. The workshop was slowly settling for the evening. Tools were being put away, wood scraped across a bench, and footsteps moved through the room with the familiar rhythm of someone who had worked there for years.

After a while, Daichi's voice came from the workshop.

"Masato."

"Yeah?"

"Finish those boards before you leave."

A pause.

"I was going to."

"Then why are you standing there?"

"I'm not."

Kamui smiled.

There was something comforting about hearing them talk like that.

Yesterday, Konoha had been a place he had finally reached. Today, it had become a market he had walked through, a workshop he had worked in, and two people he had met by chance.

One was an old carpenter who expected him to work properly and offered him a place to sleep without making a fuss about it.

The other was a young worker who had spent half the day showing him where everything belonged and the other half making sure he knew just how much trouble Daichi could be.

For the first time since arriving, Kamui didn't have to wonder where he would sleep that night. He closed his eyes and let himself relax.

"One step at a time."

From somewhere in the workshop, Daichi's voice carried through the wall.

"Kamui."

Kamui opened one eye. "What?"

"Wake up before sunrise."

Kamui stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"...I knew there had to be a catch."

Masato's laughter came from the workshop, followed by Daichi's tired sigh.

Kamui couldn't help smiling.

Tomorrow, he'd show up.
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 next morning began before sunrise.

Kamui had barely finished washing his face when Daichi's voice came from the workshop. "You're awake?"

Kamui stepped out of the storage room, still rubbing his eyes. "I'd like to say yes, but I'm pretty sure the rest of me is still asleep."

Daichi glanced at him from beside the workbench. The old carpenter had already laid out the tools for the morning and was checking a bundle of rope. "Then you'll have to wake it up. We have enough work waiting for both of us."

Kamui looked toward the dark window. "Do you always start this early?"

"I've worked this way for most of my life. Once you're used to it, sleeping until sunrise feels strange."

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it."

"You don't have to enjoy it. You just have to be here."

Daichi held out the rope.

Kamui took it. "So this is your way of ending the conversation?"

"My usual method is to give people something useful to do before they find another question."

A laugh came from the other side of the workshop. Masato was already there, sorting smaller boards into a neat stack.

Kamui looked over. "You were here before me?"

"By a little. I've had enough experience to know that talking back before breakfast only makes the morning longer."

Kamui glanced toward Daichi. "Does he ever actually get breakfast?"

Daichi pointed toward the door. "Take the rope outside."

Kamui smiled. "Right. Message received."

He carried the rope out, and the morning settled into the steady rhythm of the workshop.

Kamui was learning quickly. He knew where the smaller timber belonged now, which tools needed to be returned immediately, and how to move the heavier pieces without wasting all his strength in the first hour. He still made mistakes, but the workshop no longer felt like a place full of rules he didn't understand. Most of those rules simply existed because Daichi had spent decades figuring out what happened when they were ignored.

Masato made that learning easier. He had a habit of explaining things while continuing his own work, so Kamui never felt as though he was being lectured. When Kamui reached for a board from the wrong stack, Masato stopped him with a quick word and pointed toward another pile.

"That one goes by the window. The grain is cleaner, so Daichi is saving it for the cabinet."

Kamui turned the board over, studying it. "You can actually tell all that just by looking at the wood?"

"After three years, you start noticing."

"I've been here three days."

Masato laughed. "Then you still have plenty of time to embarrass yourself."

"I already managed that yesterday."

"That was one mistake."

Kamui smiled. "You're making me feel better."

"That's what I'm here for."

Daichi, working at the far bench, spoke without looking up. "If you two have enough energy to talk, you have enough energy to work."

Kamui glanced at Masato.

Masato shrugged. "He's right."

"That was quick."

"I'm protecting my future."

Kamui laughed and went back to work.

A little before midday, Daichi handed Kamui a small stack of finished table legs and told him to move them to the back of the workshop. Kamui had already carried heavier things that morning, so he didn't think much of it. He lifted the stack, turned around the edge of a workbench, and lowered the pieces toward the rack.

One slipped.

Kamui reached out to catch it, but the movement only sent the leg against the edge of the bench.

The crack that followed was sharp enough to stop the entire workshop for a moment.

Kamui stared at the fresh split running along the wood. "I may have a problem."

Masato looked over from his bench and grimaced.

Daichi walked over, holding out his hand.

Kamui passed the damaged piece to him. "I didn't drop it."

"I know."

"It just slipped."

"I saw."

Kamui rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you going to tell me I should have been more careful?"

Daichi inspected the crack again. "You already know that."

"So what happens now?"

"You fix it."

Kamui blinked. "You're letting me fix it?"

"It's damaged because of you."

"That sounds fair."

"It is."

Daichi brought the piece back to the workbench and showed Kamui where the split had followed the grain. He explained what needed to be cleaned, what could still be saved, and where Kamui needed to be careful when fitting the repair. He didn't take over once Kamui understood the process. The mistake was his, so Daichi left the work in his hands.

It took longer than Kamui expected. He had to clean out the damaged section, smooth the rough edges, fit the pieces together, and make sure the repair would hold before applying the final pressure. Masato continued working nearby, occasionally glancing over, but he wisely didn't offer too much advice.

When Kamui finally finished, the table leg was usable again, though the repaired section was still visible.

Daichi ran his thumb over the seam.

"It'll hold."

Kamui looked at the line. "It still looks damaged."

"It was damaged."

"So there's no way to make it disappear?"

"Not without replacing the whole piece."

Kamui nodded.

"Then I'll do better next time."

Daichi handed it back. "That's the idea."

Masato leaned over his bench. "You got away easier than I did."

Kamui looked over. "What happened to you?"

"I cut the wrong board."

Daichi answered without looking up. "Three boards."

Masato sighed. "You remember every mistake I've ever made."

"I remember expensive mistakes."

Kamui laughed. "That's comforting."

"It shouldn't be," Masato said. "You're probably going to make the list eventually."

The tension disappeared, and the workshop returned to its normal rhythm.

Kamui thought about the mistake while he worked through the rest of the morning. He had wanted to prove himself quickly. Yesterday he had been the stranger who walked in needing a job; today he was determined to show that Daichi hadn't made the wrong choice by giving him one. Somewhere along the way, that determination had turned into rushing, and rushing had been enough to damage something that didn't belong to him.

Daichi hadn't made a scene about it.

He had simply expected Kamui to take responsibility.

That was harder to dismiss than a lecture would have been.

When the morning's work was finally finished, Daichi counted a handful of coins into Kamui's palm.

"You worked hard."

Kamui looked down at the money. It wasn't much, but it was honest, and seeing the first earnings he'd made in this world still gave him a quiet sense of satisfaction.

"Thank you."

Daichi nodded. "Make them last."

Kamui slipped the money into his pocket.

Masato looked over. "Let me guess. Ramen?"

Kamui smiled. "You know me already."

"You've mentioned it enough."

"It's an important food."

"That's what you said yesterday."

"And it was true yesterday."

Masato laughed. "Then you should probably hurry before you spend the afternoon talking about it."

Daichi waved toward the door. "Go eat. You can argue about noodles when you come back."

Kamui picked up his staff. "I'll be back."

"Before the afternoon gets too far."

"Yes, sir."

He headed into the market.

Konoha was already busy. Fresh vegetables covered the stalls, merchants called out prices over the noise of passing shoppers, and children moved through the crowd with the confidence of people who knew exactly which gaps were wide enough to slip through. Kamui no longer felt the same need to stare at every street or building. He was beginning to recognize the roads around the workshop, and that small familiarity made the village feel less like somewhere he had arrived and more like somewhere he was starting to inhabit.

He had enough money for breakfast now, although the practical part of his mind was still reminding him that one meal didn't mean he'd solved anything. He had a room, work, and a small amount of money in his pocket, but he had arrived with almost nothing and knew better than to become careless.

Then the smell of warm food reached him, and for a moment the future could wait.

He joined a line at a food stall just as a loud voice rose above the market.

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

Kamui turned.

A blond boy stood in front of a fruit stall, fists clenched at his sides and his face flushed with frustration.

"I don't have enough today! I'll bring the rest, I swear!"

The shopkeeper folded his arms. "You said the same thing yesterday."

"I know, but I mean it this time!"

"You said that yesterday too."

"Because I meant it yesterday!"

The shopkeeper gave him a tired look. "Then you'll understand why I'm waiting for the money."

The boy pointed toward the fruit.

"I just need a little more time. It's not like I'm stealing anything."

"Then come back when you can pay."

The boy's mouth opened, ready with another argument, but his stomach growled loudly enough for everyone around him to hear.

His face went scarlet.

"I wasn't hungry anyway."

Kamui had to fight back a smile.

The boy turned away sharply, but the thing that caught Kamui's attention wasn't the embarrassment. It was everyone else's reaction. A few people had watched. Some had whispered. Most simply went back to whatever they had been doing.

Nobody stepped forward.

Nobody seemed surprised.

It was the familiarity of the scene that bothered him.

Kamui looked down at the coins in his pocket. He had very little, and he couldn't afford to turn every unfortunate person he met into his responsibility. Even so, he had watched Naruto walk away with that embarrassed look and found himself unable to ignore it.

"Excuse me," Kamui said to the vendor. "Could I get one more rice ball?"

The vendor handed it over. Kamui paid, tucked one of the rice balls into his own hand, and followed the blond boy through the market.

He found him beneath a tree overlooking the street, sitting with his elbows on his knees while he watched the crowds pass. The anger from the fruit stall was gone now, replaced by the stubborn expression of someone trying very hard to look like he didn't care.

Kamui approached without calling out and sat down a short distance away.

After a moment, he held out the rice ball.

"I accidentally bought two."

The boy looked at the food, then at Kamui.

"You bought it because of me."

Kamui smiled. "That was quick."

"You're bad at lying."

"I've only known you for a few seconds. Give me a little time."

The boy frowned. "Why would you lie about something like that?"

"I thought it might be less embarrassing for you."

"I said I don't need your pity."

"All right."

Kamui unwrapped his own rice ball and took a bite.

The boy kept watching him.

Kamui swallowed and held the second one out again. "I'm not asking you to owe me anything. You looked hungry, so I bought you some food."

"I can get food myself."

"I'm sure you can."

"Then why are you still holding it out?"

Kamui glanced at the rice ball. "Because I'm starting to feel stupid standing here with it."

The boy stared at him.

Then, reluctantly, he reached out.

"Fine."

Kamui handed it over and returned to his own lunch.

The boy took a bite, then another. He ate quickly at first, almost as though he was afraid the food would disappear, before slowing down when he realized Kamui wasn't watching him.

They ate in silence for a while.

The market carried on around them, full of voices and footsteps, while the branches above shifted in the breeze. Eventually the boy finished and looked at the empty wrapper in his hands.

"...Thanks."

Kamui glanced over. "You're welcome."

The boy frowned as though he expected something else.

Kamui smiled. "You don't have to fight every person who helps you."

"I don't fight everyone."

"Only shopkeepers?"

"Only when they're annoying."

Kamui laughed. "That sounds like a difficult way to shop."

The boy looked at him for a moment, then smiled despite himself.

"So what's your name?"

"Kamui."

"Just Kamui?"

"Just Kamui."

"You don't have a clan?"

"No."

"That must be weird."

"It is, depending on who you ask."

The boy looked interested. "Then where are you from?"

Kamui hesitated.

"Far away."

"How far?"

"Far enough that I don't think you'd recognize it."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does to me."

The boy frowned at him.

Kamui smiled. "You ask a lot of questions."

"So do you."

"I asked you two."

"You asked me about shopkeepers."

"And you answered."

The boy looked as though he had been caught in his own argument.

Kamui let him have the victory anyway.

"What are you doing in Konoha?" the boy asked.

"Working."

"At what?"

"A carpenter's workshop."

"You make furniture?"

"I'm learning. Right now I'm better at carrying it."

The boy grinned. "So you're not very good yet."

"I've been doing it for three days."

"That's long enough to get better."

"Apparently not."

The boy laughed.

That was the moment Kamui noticed how quickly the boy's mood could change. He had gone from shouting at a shopkeeper, to looking embarrassed beneath a tree, to laughing about something as simple as furniture within a matter of minutes.

"What about you?" Kamui asked. "What do you do?"

The boy looked at him as though the answer should have been obvious.

"I'm going to become Hokage."

Kamui smiled. "That's what you do?"

"That's what I'm going to do."

"Then you have a busy schedule."

"You're laughing."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm smiling."

"Same thing."

Kamui chuckled. "All right. What makes you think you'll become Hokage?"

That was apparently the right question.

The boy leaned forward and began talking almost immediately.

"Because I'm going to get stronger. Everyone keeps looking at me like I'm some idiot, but I'll show them. I'll train harder than anyone else, learn every technique I can, and then one day I'll become Hokage. When that happens, everyone in the village is going to know my name. They'll have to respect me because the Hokage protects everyone, and if I'm the strongest one here, nobody can tell me I don't belong."

He paused only long enough to breathe before continuing.

"I know it's going to be difficult. I don't care. I'm going to do it anyway. And when I finally get there, all those people who laugh at me now are going to regret it."

Kamui listened without interrupting.

The boy's excitement was infectious, but there was something underneath it that Kamui recognized immediately.

The need to be seen.

The need to prove that the people around him were wrong.

It wasn't just a dream of becoming Hokage. It was a dream of becoming someone nobody could ignore.

"You've thought about this for a long time," Kamui said.

"Of course I have. I've thought about it forever."

"I can tell."

The boy studied him.

"Do you think I can do it?"

Kamui didn't rush the answer.

"I think you can give yourself a real chance."

The boy frowned. "That's not the same as saying I'll become Hokage."

"No. I don't know whether you'll become Hokage."

"Then why say it like that?"

"Because I don't know you well enough to promise you the result. I do know that you don't seem like someone who gives up easily."

The boy's expression changed.

Then the grin returned.

"I won't."

"I figured."

"Then you'll see. I'm serious."

"I believe you."

That answer seemed to satisfy him more than Kamui expected.

Naruto kept talking after that, and Kamui quickly discovered that once the boy found someone willing to listen, there was very little stopping him. He talked about the Academy, about the techniques he wanted to learn, about people he intended to surpass, about the Hokage again, and eventually about ramen.

"Have you ever eaten at Ichiraku?"

Kamui shook his head.

"You haven't? Then you really haven't been in Konoha long enough. You should come with me sometime. Teuchi knows me, and his ramen is way better than the stuff from the other stalls. They have different toppings too, and if you ask for extra noodles—well, actually, you should probably get the regular first because you don't know how much you'll want, but I always get extra because I can eat a lot. I'm going to need more once I get stronger too, because growing means you need more food, and I'm definitely going to be growing a lot when I'm training."

Kamui laughed.

"You've managed to connect ramen to becoming Hokage."

"Of course. You can't become Hokage on an empty stomach."

"I suppose that's settled, then."

Naruto nodded seriously.

"Exactly."

By the time the conversation finally started winding down, Kamui had learned more about Naruto than he had expected to hear from a stranger. Naruto, meanwhile, seemed equally pleased to have found someone who didn't laugh at every strange thing he said.

Eventually he stood and brushed the dust from his clothes.

"I've got to go."

Kamui looked up. "All right."

Naruto took a few steps before turning around.

"I'm paying you back for the rice ball."

"You really don't have to."

"I know. I'm still going to."

Kamui smiled. "Then pay me back when you have the money."

Naruto nodded.

He started walking again, then looked back over his shoulder.

"So don't disappear."

Kamui answered without hesitation. "I'll be working at the carpenter's workshop near the market."

Naruto brightened.

"Then I'll find you."

"Looks like you've already solved the problem."

"I told you I would."

He ran toward the market, but after a few steps he turned around once more.

"See you later, Kamui!"

Kamui laughed.

"See you around, Naruto."

The blond disappeared into the crowd.

Kamui sat beneath the tree for another moment before standing. He had expected his first meeting with Naruto to feel strange, perhaps even overwhelming. Instead, it had been surprisingly ordinary. The boy had been hungry, Kamui had seen it, and he'd done something about it.

The conversation had been the part he hadn't expected.

Naruto had talked almost without stopping, but beneath all that noise was a stubborn certainty that refused to let other people's opinions decide what he was allowed to become.

Kamui found himself smiling as he headed back toward the workshop.

By the time he reached the familiar street, the market noise had faded behind him. The rhythmic knock of a hammer came from inside, mixed with the scrape of wood across a bench.

Kamui pushed open the workshop door.

Masato looked up. "You're back."

Kamui set his staff against the wall. "Were you expecting me to stay out?"

"I was beginning to wonder. You left with money for breakfast, so I assumed we'd lost you to the market."

"I met someone."

Masato leaned against the bench. "That explains the smile."

Kamui glanced toward Daichi, who was working at the far end of the workshop.

"I met Naruto."

Daichi looked up.

"The blond boy?"

Kamui nodded. "He was hungry."

Daichi's expression softened slightly before he returned to the wood in front of him.

"You gave him something to eat?"

"Yeah."

The old carpenter nodded. "Good."

Masato looked interested. "So what was he like?"

Kamui thought about it.

"Very loud."

Masato laughed. "That was my guess."

"He also talks a lot."

"How much?"

Kamui considered.

"I think he could keep a conversation going even if nobody answered him."

Masato laughed again.

Daichi glanced over. "Did you eat?"

Kamui smiled.

"Yes."

"Good."

That was enough for Daichi.

Masato, however, wasn't finished.

"What did you talk about?"

"Everything."

"That doesn't narrow it down."

Kamui picked up a board from the workbench.

"He wants to become Hokage."

Masato looked at him.

"Seriously?"

"Very seriously."

Daichi continued working.

"He's a determined boy."

Kamui glanced toward him.

"You know him?"

"I know of him."

There was nothing judgmental in the answer, only the quiet caution of an older man who preferred to let people prove themselves over time.

Kamui nodded and returned to work.

The rest of the afternoon passed more easily than the morning. Kamui worked beside Masato while they traded stories about customers and the strange requests people sometimes brought to the workshop. Masato asked several more questions about Naruto, and Kamui answered until eventually even he started laughing at how much the boy had managed to say in such a short conversation.

Daichi joined them once or twice, usually from where he was working rather than by sitting directly in the middle of their conversation. At one point he set down his tools and took his tea outside, where Kamui and Masato were resting for a few minutes after moving a cabinet.

Masato was telling Kamui about the time a customer had ordered a table and then changed the measurements three times.

"You mean he changed them after Daichi had already started?"

"Twice."

Kamui looked at Daichi.

The old carpenter took a slow sip of tea.

"I stopped listening after the second change."

Masato laughed. "See? That's what I mean."

Kamui smiled. "What did you do?"

"I made the second version."

"And the customer?"

"Complained that it wasn't like the first."

Kamui laughed.

Daichi looked at them over the rim of his cup.

"You two have too much free time."

Masato gestured toward the workshop. "We're taking five minutes."

"You've taken seven."

Kamui looked at his watch.

"You actually timed us?"

Daichi lowered the cup.

"I've been running this workshop longer than either of you have been alive. I know how long five minutes is."

Masato laughed.

Kamui smiled.

Daichi finished his tea and stood.

"Back to work when you're ready."

He returned inside.

Kamui watched him go.

"He really is like that all the time, isn't he?"

Masato nodded.

"Pretty much."

Kamui laughed and got to his feet.

"Fair enough."

The rest of the day passed without anything going wrong. By evening, the workshop gradually quieted as the tools were put away and the last bits of sawdust were swept from the floor.

Kamui helped Masato finish cleaning while Daichi checked the workshop doors and made sure everything was where it belonged.

When the work was done, Daichi looked toward Kamui.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it tomorrow."

Kamui nodded. "Good night, Daichi."

"Good night."

Masato adjusted his bag.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you."

Masato headed down the street, and Kamui watched him go before returning to the small room at the back of the workshop.

He lay down on the futon and pulled the blanket over himself.

His first full day had been more eventful than he'd expected. He had made a mistake and learned how to fix it, earned more money, met a boy who talked enough for three people, and returned to a workshop where people were already beginning to feel familiar.

Konoha still had a long way to go before it felt like home.

But tonight, Kamui slept with the knowledge that someone would notice if he didn't show up in the morning.

For the first time since arriving in this world, that thought felt reassuring.

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[abyssalmandate]

The days that followed settled into a simple rhythm.

After his conversation with Naruto, Kamui returned to the workshop the next morning and found that life had already begun moving at its usual pace. The sun rose, the work began, and there was always another piece of timber waiting to be carried, measured, cut, or sanded. Before long, the days started blending together in a way that might have bothered him once, but now he found oddly comforting.

Three days passed like that.

Kamui settled into workshop life far faster than he had expected. His mornings began before sunrise, usually with Daichi already awake and preparing the day's work. He helped unload timber, carried boards and beams until his shoulders ached, swept sawdust from the floor, and spent whatever free time remained trying to improve at whatever task Daichi had put in front of him. By evening, he was tired enough that sleep came easily.

It wasn't exciting work, and nobody would have mistaken it for an adventurous life, but Kamui liked the feeling he had at the end of each day. His body was tired for a reason. He could look at the workbench, the neatly stacked timber, the repaired furniture waiting for customers, and know that he had contributed something to it. After everything that had happened before arriving in Konoha, there was something comforting about a life where the problems in front of him could usually be solved by patience, effort, and a properly used tool.

Masato had also become part of that routine.

The younger worker was usually the first person Kamui spoke to in the morning after Daichi, and the two had fallen into an easy habit of talking while they worked. Masato would complain about a stubborn piece of wood, Kamui would complain about waking before sunrise, and Daichi would occasionally remind them both that talking didn't make the furniture.

That morning, Kamui was sanding the edge of a plank when he caught himself smiling.

Masato noticed immediately.

"You're doing it again."

Kamui looked over. "Doing what?"

"Smiling at the wood."

"I wasn't smiling at the wood."

"You were."

"I was appreciating the craftsmanship."

Masato stared at him.

Kamui held the plank up seriously. "It's very inspiring."

"You're weird."

"I've heard that before."

Daichi's voice came from the other side of the workshop. "The two of you have been here less than a week and already talk like you've worked together for ten years."

Masato lowered his head and returned to his work. "He's rubbing off on me."

Kamui pointed at him. "That's your problem, not mine."

Daichi gave them a look that said he had heard enough and went back to measuring a cabinet door.

Kamui grinned and resumed sanding.

A little later, when the morning work was nearly finished, Daichi stopped beside him and looked over the pieces Kamui had prepared.

"Better."

Kamui glanced up. Praise from Daichi was still rare enough that it caught his attention.

"That's all I get?"

"You want a speech?"

"I was hoping for a little celebration."

Daichi picked up another board. "You sanded it properly. That's the celebration."

Kamui laughed. "I'll treasure the moment."

Daichi's mouth twitched, almost becoming a smile.

By the time they finished the day's main order, Kamui's arms were sore enough that he was ready to sit down for a while. Daichi gathered the finished pieces, checked the measurements one last time, then finally announced that they were stopping early.

"The order's finished."

Kamui straightened. "Already?"

Daichi looked at him.

Kamui glanced toward the clock and corrected himself. "I mean, not already. We've been working for hours. I definitely knew that."

Masato snorted.

Daichi ignored the performance and reached into his pocket.

"Here."

A few coins landed in Kamui's hand.

Kamui looked down at them. "What's this?"

"Overtime."

Kamui frowned. "I didn't work overtime."

"You carried my load twice this week."

"I was trying to keep up."

"And you did."

Kamui started to hand the coins back.

Daichi shook his head. "Keep them."

Kamui hesitated, then closed his fingers around the money.

"Thanks."

Daichi had already turned away. "Go eat before you fall asleep standing again."

Kamui looked at Masato.

Masato grinned. "He's right. You were nearly snoring yesterday."

"I was resting my eyes."

"You were holding a broom."

"That's an efficient way to rest."

Masato laughed as Kamui headed toward the door.

The streets outside were already crowded by the time he reached the market. Schoolchildren hurried home with bags hanging from their shoulders, merchants called out to passing customers, and shinobi moved across rooftops overhead without drawing much attention from anyone below. Konoha was busy without being chaotic, and Kamui was beginning to recognize some of the streets and shops now.

That small familiarity still surprised him.

He stopped for a moment near a flower stall and watched an elderly couple watering the plants outside their home. A little girl was showing her mother a drawing she had made, clearly expecting far more praise than the picture probably deserved, while two boys argued over a game several steps away.

None of it was important.

None of it would ever appear in a history book.

Yet Kamui found himself lingering.

The future he remembered had been full of names, battles, villages destroyed and rebuilt, people becoming legends because they had stood at the center of some terrible event. It was easy to forget that most people never lived that way. For ordinary people, life was made of meals, work, arguments, errands, children coming home, and neighbors helping one another fix things that had broken.

Kamui smiled faintly.

"History remembers the battles," he murmured. "People live in the parts between them."

His stomach growled loudly enough to ruin the thought.

Kamui sighed.

"All right. Food first."

He followed the smell of broth and grilled toppings until he found a modest ramen stand tucked beside the road.

The sign above it was simple. The shop itself was even simpler, with a handful of stools lined along the counter. Steam curled into the air from the large pot behind the counter, carrying a smell that instantly made Kamui forget whatever philosophical thought had been forming a moment earlier.

A broad-shouldered man looked up as he approached.

"Welcome."

"One bowl, please."

"Take a seat."

Kamui settled onto a stool.

The stand was quiet at this hour. Another customer finished his meal, paid, and left, leaving Kamui alone with the owner.

A moment later, a steaming bowl was placed in front of him.

"Here you go."

Kamui picked up his chopsticks.

"Itadakimasu."

The first mouthful made him close his eyes.

He swallowed slowly.

"...That's dangerous."

The owner raised an eyebrow.

"My ramen?"

"If it's this good, I might spend every coin I earn here."

The man laughed. "I've heard worse compliments."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

Kamui smiled and took another bite.

He had eaten plenty of ramen before, but something about this bowl hit differently. Maybe it was because he had spent the morning working until his shoulders hurt. Maybe it was because he was still getting used to having so little and therefore noticed every decent meal more than he used to.

Or maybe it was simply good ramen.

There was no need to overthink it.

He had almost finished his bowl when the curtain at the entrance flew open.

"I'm starving!"

Kamui glanced sideways.

A familiar blond boy hurried inside and jumped onto an empty stool.

"Old man! One miso ramen!"

The owner smiled.

"Naruto..."

Naruto froze.

Then he groaned and dropped his forehead against the counter.

"...I'm out of money."

"You still owe me for two bowls."

"I know!"

Naruto lifted his head and pointed dramatically at the man behind the counter.

"I'll pay you back after I become Hokage."

The owner chuckled. "I'll hold you to that."

Kamui looked down at his own bowl.

Naruto had apparently managed to run out of money again.

He wasn't particularly surprised.

The boy sighed heavily.

"I guess water fills the stomach too."

Before Naruto could ask for a cup, the owner reached for another bowl.

At almost the same moment, Kamui was already reaching for his purse.

The fresh bowl slid across the counter and stopped directly in front of Naruto.

Naruto blinked.

He looked at the ramen.

Then at Kamui.

"...Again?"

Kamui was already counting out the coins.

"I ordered the wrong size."

Naruto stared at him.

"No, you didn't."

Kamui paused.

"...I'm not very good at this excuse."

"You really aren't."

The owner chuckled behind the counter.

"You two know each other?"

"No," Naruto said immediately.

"A little," Kamui answered at the same time.

They looked at one another.

Naruto pointed at Kamui.

"See?"

Kamui shrugged. "I was being optimistic."

Naruto tried not to laugh.

He failed.

"You're seriously weird."

"I've accepted that."

Naruto picked up his chopsticks and started eating.

After a few bites, he looked sideways.

"I'm paying you back."

Kamui nodded.

"I believe you."

Naruto paused.

The words seemed to catch him off guard more than the ramen had.

He stared at Kamui for a second, then quickly looked back down at his bowl.

"Tch."

Kamui hid a smile and finished his own meal.

They ate for a while without talking. Naruto gradually slowed down once he realized there was no one trying to take the food away from him, and Kamui found himself enjoying the quiet familiarity of simply sharing a meal.

When the bowls were empty, Kamui stood and thanked the owner before stepping outside.

He had barely taken a few steps when he heard Naruto calling after him.

"Hey!"

Kamui turned.

Naruto came hurrying out of the ramen stand.

For once, he wasn't grinning.

He shoved both hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground.

"Why do you keep helping me?"

The question wasn't angry. There was no accusation behind it either. Naruto simply looked like a boy who had encountered something he couldn't quite understand and had decided he wasn't going to leave until he got an answer.

Kamui thought about it.

There were several possible answers he could have given, but none of them felt right.

So he settled on the simplest one.

"When I was younger, someone helped me when they didn't have to."

Naruto frowned.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"But that doesn't explain why you're doing it for me."

Kamui smiled.

"Maybe it doesn't."

He started walking again.

Naruto followed for a couple of steps.

"You're weird, you know that?"

"So I've heard."

"You keep saying that."

"Because people keep telling me."

Naruto huffed.

Kamui glanced back at him.

"Besides, you've already decided you're going to pay me back. Isn't that enough?"

Naruto thought about it.

"...Yeah."

He stopped.

Then, after another moment, he called out, "I'll pay you back! I'm serious!"

Kamui raised a hand without turning around.

"I know."

Naruto stood in the middle of the street and watched him disappear into the afternoon crowd.

He looked down at the empty ramen bowl warming his hands, then back toward the road Kamui had taken.

Twice now, someone had helped him without asking for anything in return.

Naruto still didn't understand why.

He scratched the back of his head.

"Okay..."

Then his expression brightened.

"I'll just have to pay him back."

He grinned.

"That's easy."

Farther down the street, Kamui continued toward the workshop, already thinking about what Daichi would have him do when he returned.

He didn't feel like he had done anything remarkable.

He had worked, eaten ramen, and helped a hungry kid eat his lunch.

For now, that was enough.

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