Steam hung low in the bathhouse.
Lantern light flickered softly against the wooden walls, its glow reflecting across the surface of the water. The place was nearly empty at this hour. Only the quiet drip of water and the faint creak of wood filled the space.
That was exactly why I came this late.
I stepped into the bath slowly, letting the hot water climb up my legs before lowering myself into it. The heat wrapped around my shoulders and back, easing muscles I didn't realize were tense.
This was my time.
Every Saturday night.
A small ritual I had started after moving out of the orphanage.
Mostly to recover from a full week of babysitting Akito.
Seven days with that idiot was enough to drain anyone's patience.
At least tomorrow was Sunday.
No classes.
No noisy kids.
I leaned back against the wooden edge of the bath and exhaled slowly.
It had been seven days since I joined Class A.
Seven days.
It didn't feel like it.
It felt longer.
Takaki's face briefly crossed my mind.
I had expected suspension.
A lecture. Maybe a week off.
Instead—
Expelled.
Just like that.
One moment of anger. One stupid decision.
And the system removed him without a second thought.
It reminded me that Konoha was essentially a military state, and the Academy was its training ground.
No drama.
Just consequences.
Then there were the extra classes.
Hirose had announced it the very next day.
"Kazu. Akito. You two will attend extra classes after school."
And just like that, every afternoon after academy hours, Akito and I stayed behind.
The training itself wasn't difficult.
Basic physical conditioning.
Running laps around the yard to build stamina. Strength exercises. Breathing drills.
Hirose also went over the fundamentals of shurikenjutsu again—grip, release, rotation.
He even introduced us to several different weapons.
Then there were the taijutsu basics.
Footwork.
Guard position.
Simple counters.
Naruto-style taijutsu was surprisingly close to mixed martial arts. Striking-heavy, focused on speed and impact.
But it lacked wrestling and grappling techniques.
No Brazilian jiu-jitsu style control. No ground fighting.
Just clean strikes and quick exchanges.
Akito complained about it the entire time.
Running was torture.Footwork drills were pointless.And according to him, Hirose's training methods were "clearly suppressing natural genius."
Despite all the complaining, he actually did pretty well.
Especially with shuriken.
I sank a little deeper into the hot water.
Steam drifted lazily across the surface, blurring the lantern light above.
Seven days.
And already the future was creeping back into my thoughts.
Not academy tests.
Not grades.
Something much bigger.
Orochimaru.
Even thinking the name felt strange.
In the original story, the attack on Konoha would happen during the Chūnin Exams.
The invasion.
The chaos.
The deaths.
Including the Third Hokage.
I stared quietly at the water in front of me.
The ripples slowly settled.
The question had been sitting in the back of my mind ever since I realized where I was.
Should I do something?
Try to stop it.
Warn someone.
Change what was coming.
Or…
Stay out of it.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Because interfering meant stepping into the story.
And stepping into the story meant stepping onto the battlefield again.
Something I had sworn—very quietly—to myself that I would never do again.
The night air felt cooler after leaving the bathhouse.
Steam still clung faintly to my skin as I walked through the quiet streets of Konoha. Lanterns hung from wooden posts along the road, their warm glow stretching across empty pathways. Most shops had already closed for the night, shutters drawn and signs turned inward.
The village moved slower at this hour.
Fewer voices. Fewer footsteps.
Just the occasional rustle of wind or a distant dog barking somewhere in the dark.
I walked without much direction, letting the cool air settle the heat from the bath.
Then I noticed it.
One shop still had its lantern lit.
A small bookstore.
The wooden sign outside clearly read Closed, hanging slightly crooked from its hook.
But the door wasn't locked.
The light inside was still on.
I pushed the door open.
A small bell above the frame gave a quiet chime.
Inside, shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling—scrolls, stitched books, loose stacks of printed pages. The smell of ink and old paper filled the air.
And behind the counter—
Someone was sitting there.
Black hair fell over the sides of her face, partially hiding a pair of round glasses. She wore a simple long skirt and a loose sweater.
Her attention was completely locked onto the book in her hands.
She hadn't even noticed the door.
Or the bell.
Or me.
Her eyes moved quickly across the page, brows slightly furrowed with concentration.
Her name surfaced after a moment.
Aoi Mizuno.
She was also in Class A.
Quiet.
Always sitting near the back.
I glanced toward the door again.
The Closed sign was still hanging outside.
So the shop wasn't open.
Which meant one thing.
She had forgotten to close it.
I stepped closer.
Still no reaction.
"…Evening."
Aoi jolted like someone had set off a firework behind her.
Her head snapped up.
For a split second, she just stared at me.
Then panic took over.
The book vanished behind her back at record speed.
Her glasses slipped slightly down her nose as she straightened her posture.
"G-Good evening!"
There was a long pause.
She was still hiding something behind her back.
Her face slowly turned pink.
I glanced toward the shelves beside the counter.
Then toward the book very obviously hidden behind her.
"…You're Kazu Mori. The transfer student, right?"
"Yep. That's one way to describe me."
Another awkward silence followed.
I couldn't bear it.
So I tried small talk.
"Uh… what are you reading?"
Her reaction was immediate.
"Na—na—nothing!"
She stuttered, flustered, turning her head away so she wouldn't meet my eyes.
She was really bad at lying.
"Well," I said calmly, "the sign says closed, but you left the door open."
Realization struck her instantly.
"Oh—!"
She spun toward the door and rushed forward—
Only to step on a loose book lying on the floor.
Her foot slipped.
"Ah—!"
She went down.
Hard.
Books scattered as she slid across the wooden floor… straight toward me.
The book she had been hiding slipped from her hands.
It landed face up.
The title was perfectly visible.
Icha Icha Innocence.
…Ah.
That explained the panic.
Aoi moved faster than I expected.
She scrambled forward and threw herself over the book, covering it with her body like she was shielding a live grenade.
Then she slowly looked up at me.
Her face was bright red.
There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
And in a voice that was somehow both trembling and threatening, she said—
"You didn't see anything."
I nodded once.
"Of course," I said calmly. "I was admiring the floorboards."
A blatant lie delivered with a perfectly straight face.
She kept staring at me for a few seconds, cheeks puffed with anger. If looks could kill, I would've died several times already.
Then she took a deep breath.
"…Just don't tell anyone."
"Of course," I said with complete sincerity.
Then she slowly lifted herself off the floor, still shielding the book with one hand while quickly sliding it behind the counter.
Her movements were fast.
Practiced.
Like someone who had rehearsed this exact emergency procedure many times before.
She pushed her glasses back up her nose and stood there stiffly.
"…Good," she muttered.
Another awkward silence settled between us.
Aoi cleared her throat.
"Why are you here?" she asked, still trying to sound composed. Then she quickly added, "If you're here to buy something, you should do it now. I'm closing the store."
I hadn't actually planned on buying anything.
But at this point leaving immediately felt even more awkward.
"I'll take a quick look," I said.
She nodded and stepped aside.
I walked slowly between the shelves, scanning the titles.
Most of them were practical things.
Basic chakra theory.
Herbal medicine manuals.
History books about the founding of the village.
Then one title caught my eye.
Pressure Points: Basic Guide.
That could be useful in… unforeseen circumstances.
I picked it up and brought it to the counter.
Aoi rang it up quickly, still avoiding eye contact.
After paying, we stepped outside.
The night air had grown cooler.
Aoi turned back and carefully locked the door, checking it twice before slipping the key into her pocket.
For a moment neither of us moved.
Then we started walking down the same street.
Aoi suddenly stopped.
A faint tick mark appeared on her forehead as she turned toward me.
"Why are you following me?!"
"I'm not," I said calmly. "My place is this way too."
"…Hmph."
She looked suspicious for another second.
"Then keep some distance."
"Okay."
I slowed down and put a few steps between us.
The Aoi in the classroom and the Aoi walking ahead of me right now felt like two completely different people.
After a while, she spoke again without turning around.
"What are you doing out in the middle of the night?" she asked without turning around.
"Taking a walk."
"…Your parents allow that?"
"I'm an orphan," I said. "So no one's around to stop me."
She slowed slightly.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, "What about you? Why are you working so late at night?"
She hesitated before answering.
"My father died in the line of duty," she said quietly.
A short silence passed.
"My mother… didn't last much longer after that."
Her voice was calm, but the words felt heavy.
"…So now I run the shop and take care of my younger siblings."
its always children who suffer most by war
That explained a lot.
The late-night work.
The tired look behind her glasses.
The sudden temper.
Her voice was calm, but the words carried weight.
"…So now I run the shop and take care of my younger siblings."
For a moment, the only sound between us was the quiet rustle of the night breeze.
She looked down slightly, a faint sadness settling across her face.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of pity.
No matter the world… war always seems to hit the children the hardest.
Before I could say anything—
A loud shout cut through the quiet street.
"Hey! Stop!"
A man burst out of a nearby bar, clutching a small pouch in his hand.
Behind him, the owner stumbled into the street, shouting angrily.
"Thief!"
The man sprinted down the road.
I watched him pass.
Then looked away.
Not my problem.
I had already decided that a long time ago.
But before I could take another step—
Aoi moved.
No hesitation.
No warning.
She shot forward down the street at a speed that was frankly ridiculous.
By the time my brain processed what had happened, she was already halfway to the fleeing man.
"…You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.
Then I started running after her.
"Contact the police!" I shouted to the shopkeeper as I passed.
The robber ran for some distance before reaching a dead end.
A high wall blocked the road.
He didn't even slow down.
Instead, he jumped—springing off the ground and landing on top of the wall in one smooth motion.
Then he vaulted onto the roof of the building ahead.
Aoi followed without hesitation.
She pushed off the ground and cleared the wall easily before chasing him across the rooftop.
Great, Looks like he's a shinobi.
I reached the wall a second later.
I wasn't as good as them at this kind of shinobi movement.
So I climbed.
I jumped onto the wall, then pushed off again, barely catching the edge of the roof.
For a moment my fingers slipped.
Then I hauled myself up onto the tiles.
The chase was already moving across the rooftops ahead.
"…So much for a quiet night," I muttered, taking off after them.