The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the bustling central market as school let out. Akira strolled through the crowded stalls with his canvas bag slung over his shoulder, quietly looking for pork, a sack of rice, and fresh vegetables.
Suddenly, a soft, warm laugh stood out above the ambient noise of the market.
"Now, now, settle down, everyone!" a gentle voice pleaded.
Akira stopped dead in his tracks.
A woman with a kind smile and a modest headscarf was currently being swarmed by a half-dozen energetic, dirty kids.
Nono Yakushi.
The legendary former elite Root spy—the "Wandering Miko"—who had given up espionage to run an orphanage, only to be dragged back into Danzō's dark web and ultimately die at the hands of her own adopted son, Kabuto. Akira's face remained still, but he watched her closely.
"Mother Nono! Look!" a little boy yelled, pulling on her apron and pointing eagerly at a bright display. "Can we please get carrots? Please? We can make the sweet soup!"
Nono looked at the price tag on the carrots, and for a split second, her warm smile faltered. A subtle look of trouble crossed her face before she quickly forced a bright, cheerful expression.
"Not today, sweetie," Nono said softly, gently patting his hair. "Carrots are a bit too expensive today. But guess what? We're going to have super yummy potato curry tonight instead!"
"Aww..." The kids groaned in unison, but they quickly giggled and went back to picking through the cheaper vegetables.
Akira quietly stepped up to the stall next to theirs, placing his own selection on the wooden counter.
"That'll be eight hundred ryo, kid," the vendor grunted.
Akira counted out the coins, then pulled out another heavy stack of ryo and slid it across the wood.
"Add three sacks of carrots, two sacks of potatoes, and a large bag of rice," Akira said softly.
The vendor blinked at the pile of money. "That's a lot of food. You throwing a party?"
"No," Akira murmured, pointing subtly at Nono. "When I leave, give all of that to that lady over there."
"Just hand it to her?"
"Tell her a customer paid in advance," Akira said, picking up his own bag. "And please, keep it quiet."
Without another word, Akira turned and walked away into the crowd.
A moment later, Nono stepped up to the counter, holding out a tiny, thin pouch of coins. "Excuse me, sir? How much for a half-kilo of potatoes?"
Instead of answering, the vendor hauled up two giant sacks of potatoes, three heavy bundles of vibrant carrots, and a huge bag of rice, slamming them onto the counter with a heavy thud.
Nono gasped, her eyes wide with shock. "Oh! Sir, wait! There's a mistake! I didn't ask for all this... I definitely can't afford it!"
"No mistake, Director," the vendor laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "It's all paid for. Every bit of it."
The children gasped, staring at the mountain of food before bursting into absolute joy.
"CARROTS!" the little boy screamed, jumping up and down. "Mother Nono, look! CARROTS! We get to make the sweet soup!"
"Look at all these potatoes!" another girl cheered, hugging one of the heavy sacks. "We get to eat so much tonight!"
The children cheered and danced around the counter, their faces beaming with pure, radiant happiness.
Nono stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly over her chest. "Paid for? By who? Who would do something like this for us?"
The vendor leaned over and pointed down the street. "A young Hyūga kid. Just walked off that way. He said it was for you."
Nono turned quickly, looking down the crowded path. The boy was already gone, but a bright, tearful smile broke across her face as she looked back at her ecstatic children.
"Mother Nono, can we carry them? Let's go cook!" the kids squealed, tugging on her sleeves.
"Yes, sweethearts," Nono laughed, her voice thick with emotion as she held them close. "Let's go home and cook."
She looked back down the busy street one last time, sending a silent, heartwarming wish into the air.
Thank you, young Hyūga... Thank you so much.
A short while later, Akira arrived back at his quiet house near the edge of the compound, carrying his canvas bag of groceries. As he stepped through the front gate, he stopped.
Sitting quietly on the wooden porch, waiting patiently, was a guest.
She was a young teenage Hyūga girl, wearing simple civilian clothes rather than standard shinobi gear.
Curious, Akira activated his Byakugan for a split second, sending a subtle pulse of chakra through his optical nerves. The internal view surprised him. Her chakra network was incredibly faint—so weak that even six-year-old Academy children possessed larger reserves. She was entirely a non-shinobi.
The moment the girl noticed Akira, she stood up quickly, smoothed down her kimono, and bowed deeply.
"Welcome home, Lord Akira-sama," she said respectfully.
Akira deactivated his dōjutsu and looked at her. "Who are you? And why are you at my house?"
"My name is Hyūga Ren," she replied softly, keeping her eyes lowered. "Lord Hyūga Hizashi assigned me to be your personal caretaker and handle your household chores."
"I see," Akira said, his voice completely level. "Thank you for coming, Sister Ren, but I do not need a caretaker. I handle my own house. You may return."
The moment those words left his mouth, Ren's face went pale.
Without warning, she dropped straight to her knees on the wooden porch. She pressed her forehead against the floorboards and began to sob desperately. "Please! Lord Akira, I beg of you! Please do not dismiss me!"
Akira blinked, caught off guard by the sudden breakdown. He stepped onto the porch and knelt down beside her.
"Sister, please stop crying," Akira said gently. "Can you tell me why you want to stay here so badly?"
Ren lifted her tear-stained face, wiping her cheeks with her trembling sleeves. "If Lord Akira rejects me... I will be reassigned to the Main Family Second Elder's household. And... and I cannot go to the Main Family!"
"Why do you not want to serve the Main Family?" Akira asked.
Ren let out a bitter, heartbroken smile as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "My elder sister, Ree... she questioned a strategic decision made by the Main Family during the Third Shinobi War. The very next day, she disappeared during a routine patrol mission."
She swallowed hard, her voice shaking with quiet rage. "And then... the official ninja pension for her death was withheld. They only paid my family twenty thousand ryo. That is barely a fifth of the original sum!"
Akira fell silent, his pale eyes searching her face. "And why do you think serving a branch child like me will change anything? Why do you think the Main Family will let you stay here?"
"I don't have a choice, Young Lord!" Ren's eyes were completely red. "My family desperately needs money. My mother is bedridden and sick, and my father... my father went missing three weeks ago after he went to the Main Family compound to demand justice for my sister."
Akira looked at the weeping girl for a quiet moment. The dark, ugly underbelly of the Hyūga clan's internal hierarchy was never surprising to him, but hearing the cold numbers laid out so bluntly was a stark reminder of the system he lived under.
A small, faint chuckle escaped Akira's lips—a dry, quiet sound.
"Very well," Akira said softly. "You can work here, Sister Ren."
Ren froze, looking up in disbelief.
"However, there are rules," Akira continued, his tone turning serious. "You are not to touch anything in my private study or basement without my explicit permission. In return, I will pay you an extra ten thousand ryo every month on top of what Lord Hizashi provides."
Ren's eyes widened. The overwhelming relief hit her like a wave, and she immediately began bowing her head repeatedly against the porch, her tears of sorrow turning into overwhelmed gratitude.
"Thank you, Lord Akira! Thank you so much! I promise I will work hard! I will never pry into your affairs!"
Akira smiled faintly, setting down his grocery bag near the doorway.
"Since Sister Ren is already here," Akira said, turning toward the hallway, "you can start by helping me in the kitchen. Let's make dinner."
"Yes, Young Lord!" Ren wiped her face quickly, pushing herself up with a newfound energy, and followed him cautiously into the quiet house.