— "Good afternoon, is Sasaki-san here?" — I inquired politely to the familiar elderly kunoichi who answered the door at the orphanage.
Since I had arrived during the hospital's lunch break, when the little residents of the dilapidated building were also sent off to eat, I managed to avoid excessive attention from the children, who were always eager to bury me under a literal pile of small bodies in an attempt to make me play. Given the busy nature of my workday, I didn't want to waste chakra on a few clones.
Besides, I wasn't here to play with the little ones and donate money to the manager, as I do at the beginning of each month, but for a completely different reason.
— "Yes, Nara-sama, she's in her office," — the caretaker nodded, bowing respectfully and letting me in without further questions.
— "Just Ryo-san," — I sighed wearily.
The woman only smiled in response, closing the door behind me and returning to her tasks. For some reason, shortly after I returned from the front and continued personally making donations to the orphanages (which had increased somewhat as the shop had started generating a solid income again, and the hourly wage at the hospital provided a substantial sum even for an elite shinobi), the previously very polite staff had suddenly elevated their show of respect.
However, after the head of one of the orphanages showed me the financial report for the past two years, the situation became clear — essentially, at the end of the war and until the contributions from Iwagakure were received, I had almost completely funded all six orphanages (the evacuated children and staff from the destroyed facilities had been distributed to the unaffected ones), as the village's treasury was depleted, and shinobi on missions sometimes had barely enough for anything besides the suddenly inflated cost of food.
The situation has improved a bit now, but I still donated about half of the budgets of most of the orphanages. To think, these are often the places where they recruit new shinobi for the academy — surviving on such funds is almost laughable. What the hell are Hiruzen and Co. thinking? Especially considering the support for non-clan members?
It wouldn't be so bad if it required a large sum, but at least sixty thousand ryo instead of a pitiful twenty thousand? For Konoha's monthly tax turnover, that's not even a fraction of a percent, but a ten-thousandth! And that doesn't even include the revenue from each completed mission! It only left me shaking my head at such an attitude towards the future generation of fighters.
After all, a child's overall development potential, both physically and mentally, depends on how they were fed early in life. However, just as in the past world, where there were plenty of scumbags, idiots, and people in power who were indifferent to the needs of those dependent on them, so too in this world are there such individuals.
Perhaps slightly fewer, due to the massive culling when climbing the vertical power structure, but the essence remains the same.
Sighing, I pushed away the heavy thoughts and knocked on the door of the office, which I had reached almost unnoticed by myself.
— "Come in," — came the voice from inside.
Turning the handle, I entered and saw a quite ordinary scene — the former kunoichi sat at the desk, struggling with a pile of papers, which were stacked in small mounds across almost all the free space. As someone who is obligated to fill out a lot of paperwork and patient medical records, I could only sympathize with her.
— "Good afternoon, Suzuka-san," — I greeted.
— "Good afternoon, Ryo-san," — replied the surprised head of the orphanage, clearly not expecting to see me in the middle of the month. — "How can I help you?"
— "Rather, it's me who can help you," — I smirked in response. — "Everything is ready, and you just need to come to the hospital."
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