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.

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