The journey back to Konoha was much quicker than escorting the caravan and guarding it. We could travel along the upper routes and cut through particularly long paths. When builders were constructing the road, they had to think not only about it not falling apart by the following year but also ensuring the journey itself didn't take years. In short, builders sought a compromise. Obviously, we didn't leave in the morning and find ourselves in our beds by evening, but we still moved much faster.
It took us about seven days to return to Konoha. By the time we arrived, a heavy rain was falling, so we were dressed in grayish cloaks. Nobody wanted to run around soaking wet. At the entrance, we were stopped by two chunin, also wearing those gray cloaks.
"Your documents," one of them requested.
The captain handed over his own shinobi identification card, and we followed suit. The gate guard quickly checked everything and returned the documents. Afterward, another Hyuga at the gate scanned us with his eyes and silently stepped aside.
"Welcome back," the chunin said with a slight smile on his face.
"Thanks," the captain nodded in response.
We entered the village and immediately leaped onto the rooftops to reach the Hokage's Administration as quickly as possible to hand in our mission. Only after receiving our money could we consider the mission officially complete.
Since it was daytime, the Administration was quite crowded. And due to the heavy weather, nobody was in a hurry to leave the building and step out into the pouring, cold rain. We had to wait in a short line at the mission submission window. Ahead of us were several more senior and stronger teams who had also returned from their own missions.
That day, an old man, blind in one eye, was handling mission reception. He took our documents silently and without any words. After glancing at the signatures and seals, he stamped the forms with the village seal and filed them away. He then pulled out a small check book and wrote out one large check, which he handed to the captain.
"Thank you," the captain said.
"Take care, cough-cough," the old man replied, coughing.
We stepped aside. A line had already formed behind us, consisting of other teams waiting to hand in their missions and receive either money or checks. The captain stood for a moment, then waved his hand.
"Follow me."
We went outside and quickly reached a small, inconspicuous building marked with the Sarutobi clan symbol. At the entrance, there was a small room where a shinobi sat, without village markings but with clan symbols. He gave us a quick glance and said nothing. We entered a large room where other shinobi were either waiting in line or sitting in soft chairs, reading magazines.
"Welcome to the Sarutobi Credit Union," a short woman greeted us. She approached quietly, so as not to startle anyone. "How may we assist you today?"
"I'm here to cash a check," the captain said.
"Then window number two can help you with that," she replied, pointing to a small booth marked with a "2." "Anything else we can assist you with?"
"No, thank you," Captain Kiochi replied with a pleasant smile.
By the way, he had a small scar on his face, which he had been covering with a bandage for the past few days. He hadn't gone into detail about how he got the scar, but I suspect his opponent managed to cut him slightly with a kunai during the early stages of the confrontation. Luckily, there was no poison on the blade, so the captain was mostly unharmed, save for his bruised pride.
As we learned, the attackers were Kirigakure nukenin from the Land of Water. There's a brutal civil war going on there right now, which spawns rogue teams that refuse to fight for any side and instead flee to other Elemental countries to start new lives. Naturally, they quickly join the ranks of mercenaries and criminals, amusing themselves as long as they can.
We didn't receive any rewards for killing the nukenin, as they weren't listed in the bounty book. The captain simply handed their bodies over to the ANBU so they could conduct research or extract any information of interest. Perhaps the bodies of genin-level shinobi wouldn't attract much attention, but jonin-level shinobi might be of more interest.
"Excuse me," I asked the woman, "what do I need to open an account here?"
"Of course," she replied with a smile. "The first requirement for all shinobi who want to work with us is at least the rank of chunin. We don't work with genin, sorry."
"Oh," I muttered. "Do you know who works with genins?"
"I have no idea," she shrugged. "You could try checking with other banks, but I wouldn't rush. It's better to reach chunin rank and get the best deals from our Credit Union. If you open an account elsewhere, you won't be able to receive any bonuses from us."
"What kind of bonuses?" I asked.
"Project funding, business loans, quick credits, and much more," she said with a big, friendly smile.
At that moment, the captain approached us, holding four envelopes. I was sure they contained our money.
"I see, thanks," I replied to the woman. She nodded and walked over to the next person who had just entered the building—a tall man in a gray suit. I paid him no attention and waited for the captain to speak.
"Here's your money," he said, handing us the envelopes. The girls quickly took theirs and tucked them into their cloaks. I did the same, though less nervously. It looked as though they were afraid someone might take their hard-earned money away from them.
"Thanks, sensei," I said to him. "What's next?"
"Next?" he repeated, thinking for a moment. "You have three days off. Then we'll meet at our training ground to discuss the mission. You can rest until then. Any questions?"
We all shook our heads in response. Captain Kiochi allowed himself a slight smile before calmly turning to leave the Credit Union. We followed him. As soon as we stepped outside, the captain disappeared into the rain.
"Shiko, Ayamane," I addressed the girls, "would you like to go somewhere together tomorrow?"
The girls exchanged glances and shook their heads.
"Sorry, Suzuki," Ayamane began, "but no. We have other things to do."
"Alright, whatever," I shrugged. "See you in three days."
If they didn't want to meet up or spend time together, there was nothing I could do about it. They can do whatever they want. After that, I also turned and jumped onto the nearest building, heading home.
As I approached the door of my house, I immediately felt a slight warmth emanating from it. Inside, I sensed the presence of several intelligent beings, resting. If I concentrated, I could even catch the scent of food. I wonder what my father and mother are cooking?
Knocking on the door, I waited. A moment later, it opened slowly, and there stood my mother. As soon as she saw me, her eyes widened with joy. She threw the door open and rushed to hug me.
"Dear, Suzuki's back from his mission!" my mother called out to my father.
He came over, a satisfied look on his face. After my mother released me, he extended his hand for a handshake. I shook it firmly, a smile crossing my face.
"You're back. Wonderful."
"Let's not stand in the doorway," my mother said. "Suzuki, take off your shoes and come in. I just made a chicken pot pie."
"Oh! Excellent," I replied cheerfully.
"Go on, get yourself cleaned up," my father said. "We'll be waiting for you at the table."
Freshening up was quick. After changing into new clothes, I glanced in the small mirror above the sink. A calm face stared back, with slight bags under my eyes. I also noticed I had lost a bit of weight. What stood out most, though, was the lightning bolt scar on my body. The medical ninja thought it was from a Lightning Style technique, but I wasn't so sure. Grayish lines of slightly roughened skin stretched from my shoulder across nearly half my torso. I touched the "scars" and shook my head. There was no pain, only a faint roughness.
Once dressed, I headed to the kitchen, where my parents were waiting. Sitting at the table, I barely had time to blink before my glass was filled with apple compote and a slice of pie appeared on my plate.
I enjoyed the meal, and then my father started asking questions. He was curious about everything, especially my experience at the market and what I had bought. When I showed him the book, he flipped through it briefly, then handed it back without a word. The captain, when he saw my purchase, had shaken his head disapprovingly, but said nothing. Shiko and Ayamane hadn't been interested at all.
Afterward, I told them about the battles I had fought. My father listened calmly, without interrupting. My mother, though silent, had concern in her eyes. Like any mother, she didn't want her children to be seriously hurt. When I finished my story, I showed them the money I had earned.
"Keep the money for yourself," my father said when I offered to contribute to the family budget. "It's yours, and it might be more useful to you."
"Alright, Father," I nodded.
"What's next?" he asked. "Any plans?"
"I have three days off," I replied calmly. "I think I'll rest and train a bit. I just can't sit still."
"Good," my father said. "Do you need any help finding another instructor?"
"Not for now," I shook my head. "But in the future, that might be incredibly helpful."
"Let me know when, alright?"
"Of course, Father," I replied with a smile.
It's good to have parents who want their child to have as many chances and opportunities as possible for a bright future. Without such support, if I were an orphan, life would be much harder. I would have to worry about cooking, cleaning, rent, and many other things.
The strike from that strange lightning, as I had noticed over the past few days, had an incredibly beneficial effect on me. Some of the effects were already familiar, such as the sudden increase in the amount of chakra I could use for techniques. In addition, my physical condition had improved significantly. It's hard to compare my strength to other shinobi right now, but I suspect this advantage will fade quickly, especially since tough training with our sensei is likely in store. He must have plans for us.
The next morning was clear, with a blue sky and not a single cloud. Since it had rained the day before, the humidity in the air would probably last until the sun rose high into the sky.
"Suzuki," my father called to me. "Can you help me today?"
"What do you need done?" I asked.
"I need to deliver some boxes of pastries," he said.
"Alright," I replied.
I went out into our yard and noticed several dozen boxes stacked on a cloth mat. From them came pleasant aromas rising and spreading through the air. My father was busy filling out some papers, tallying the boxes. Afterward, he stuck a label on each box with a brief description.
"Where do they need to go?" I asked.
"Well," he said, pointing to the first few boxes, "these need to go to the 'Black Dragon' restaurant. Those— to the Ichidori house. That's a private order. And these need to be delivered to the Hitomi Trading House."
"Got it," I replied. "I know the Black Dragon restaurant and the Hitomi Trading House. Where's the Ichidori house?"
"Hmm," my father thought for a moment, trying to describe the route better, "it's on the border with what's left of the Uchiha clan. Fifth house on the opposite side."
I thought for a few seconds, visualizing the entire route in my head. I think I know where the Ichidori house is. I don't think I'll get lost. Well, or I'll just ask someone who lives on that street.
"Alright," I accepted his instructions. "So first the restaurant?"
"Exactly," my father nodded.
I picked up the indicated boxes, not feeling any weight at all, and immediately headed toward the restaurant. It was known for its reasonably priced food and accessibility to Konoha's middle class. The restaurant was simple and unpretentious. The only thing that set it apart from the surrounding buildings was the sign with a black dragon and a few symbols: "Fire," "Dragon," "Food."
"Are you from Grandvitara Omeda?" asked a guy in a slightly dirty chef's outfit.
"Yes, that's me," I replied. "Where should I take them?"
"This way," he said. I turned and saw that he was pointing to a narrow passage between old brick buildings, covered in layers of time and history. The passage led to the restaurant's back, where a large iron door stood slightly ajar, allowing the sounds of the kitchen's bustling life—clattering utensils, the voices of cooks, and the aromas of cooking food—to escape through the crack.
I stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the warmth of the spacious room. The air was filled with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread. I carefully maneuvered around the busy waiters and placed the boxes on a table in the corner, as indicated earlier. At that moment, a stocky man in a dirty apron approached me. His face bore the marks of hard work: sweat, oily smudges, and eyes that burned with exhaustion and the desire to be anywhere else.
He carefully took the label attached to one of the boxes and quickly compared it with the contents inside. His eyes flicked from the list to the items, confirming each with a slight nod. Satisfied, he mumbled something under his breath, grabbed a pen, quickly signed the paper, and handed it to me with a sigh of relief.
"Give this to Omeda," he said, exhaling each word. "You're free to go. Get out of here."
I looked at him with mild surprise. Oh right... I wasn't wearing my headband today. So he didn't know I was a shinobi. Fine, no need to start any conflict. Waving my hand, I left through the back door and quickly returned home. There was no need to hide myself because I was a resident of this village.
The next box I picked up was meant for delivery to the Ichidori house. It was the smallest of them all, so I didn't need to exert much effort to keep it intact. After carefully securing it to prevent any chance of it falling apart or accidentally opening, I headed toward the Uchiha clan district, where the houses stood like silent guardians of the past.
Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, I swiftly covered the distance between buildings. My movements were light and effortless, as if I were part of the wind, brushing gently against the roofs. Suddenly, I spotted Uchiha Sasuke, the last member of his powerful clan, walking calmly and thoughtfully along one of the streets below. I paused for a moment, observing his silhouette, but then decided not to linger and continued on my way.
Finding the Ichidori house wasn't difficult. The entire district was lively with anticipation for the upcoming celebration. Everything hinted at it, especially the Ichidori house. It stood out with its festive decorations: bright ribbons and floral garlands adorned its facade, creating an atmosphere of joy and celebration. The air was filled with the scents of blooming gardens, freshly baked goods, and aromatic spices.
As I approached the house, I was greeted by an elderly woman with kind but tired eyes. She was dressed in an old-fashioned yet neatly pressed dress and, without saying a word, led me to the kitchen, where a whirlwind of wedding preparations was in full swing. I quickly placed the boxes in the designated spot. The kitchen buzzed with people preparing dishes and decorating the space, creating an aura of excitement and anticipation.
Before I could fully grasp the situation, the grandmother handed me a small bill—a token of gratitude, just enough for a quick meal. I barely managed to nod in thanks before being directed to the exit. There was no time for conversation or long goodbyes—the wedding preparations demanded everyone's full attention.
Finally, I had to deliver the remaining boxes of pastries to the trading house. Everything there was quiet and peaceful. They silently took the boxes, handed me an envelope of money, and returned to their business. I immediately gave the envelope to my father. After all, it wasn't my money to keep.