Chereads / A Different Fate(Naruto) / Chapter 4 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Chapter 4

I woke up in a terrible mood with a splitting headache. The clones' memories were fully intact, which means they must have gotten stored in my long-term memory during the recording phase. Ugh, I feel awful! I turned on the cold water and stuck my head under the stream—it helped a little. I found something in the home medicine kit that was supposed to help with headaches. Took it. Didn't work, but my mood improved slightly.

I remembered the missions and dragged myself to the Kage tower. Barefoot, since I didn't have the money for new boots. The team greeted me when they saw my grumpy face, and Sakura didn't shout any nonsense. It seems they're much more normal here. Sasuke is gloomy but does speak sometimes, and you can tell he's carrying a heavy burden. Still, he's not as obsessed with revenge. He keeps his distance, though, so getting close to him won't be easy.

Sakura looks like a naive fool, but she holds her own on any topic not related to her object of affection. She doesn't like me much, and I get it—after all, Naruto before me wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

What's the task? Weeding someone's garden. I create three equally grumpy clones and send them off in my place. The sensei doesn't object, and I suspect he's a clone too, while the real one is sleeping or doing something else. What's the point of D-rank missions, anyway? After a bit of thinking, I conclude it's for team bonding. That's the most obvious reason. At this stage, it's easy to observe relationships between reluctant teammates and smooth out any rough edges. Another equally (or maybe even more) important function is the advertising of services—building a reputation, so to speak. Need a garden weeded? At your service. Need a house built? No problem. Want some rumors gathered? A pleasure. Got a competitor in the way? We can fix that too!

On my way home, it hit me. I wanted three clones—and I made three! A success, indeed! An hour later, two of them dispersed, and the third brought me some cheap sandals, which he bought with the mission money before vanishing too. My mood improved by a couple more points.

I had lunch—noodles, which I'm starting to hate—and headed to the training field. I decided to create twenty clones. Yeah, right! Fifty popped out instead, like it or not. I groaned, imagining how awful I'd feel when they all dispersed. That earlier success must have been pure luck. Forty are sent for control training. Four stay with me—I'll take turns sparring with them. Another four are sent to throw weapons again, and two will try to craft something Rasengan-like. Who knows, maybe it'll work? The technique itself doesn't have many prospects, but the variations I could create? Endless possibilities.

Alright, four opponents. One steps forward, and we start sparring. I dodge a punch aimed at my head and try to strike his side, but the clone sidesteps and kicks me in the knee. Caught off guard, I take two hits to the face. I'm down. When I come to, I send the clones off to beat each other up (their faces lacked enthusiasm), while I heal the bruise on my face and the split lip with chakra. The clones—hand-to-hand combat types—quickly killed each other off. The last one returned with a smug grin. Somehow, I knew it was the one who knocked me out. Well then, back to it.

The clone tries to kick me in the side with a wide swing. I pull my leg back and meet him with a punch to the nose. The clone disperses, and I feel the phantom sensation of the hit. Training with clones is masochistic. No, I need to work on my taijutsu through personal experience—clones are too limited here. I joined the weapon-throwing clones for an hour before getting bored.

Then I trained in control, gradually dispelling clones to speed up the process and pass on the knowledge. Oh! The Rasengan clones self-destructed—one lost control of the chakra and exploded, taking the other with him. Ugh. Frustrating.

The next day. First thing in the morning, I created thirty clones. Three went to the library, though nothing useful turned up yet. The rest went into the forest to train control. I headed out for the mission—to clean a park. Sakura tried to pawn her part of the work off on me, but I stubbornly ignored her hints.

About an hour in, memories from a dispersed clone hit me. He got bored of spinning a leaf between his hands and tried to create a Rasengan. Predictably, it blew up. At least it wasn't in a crowd... There's no point in getting mad—they're copies of me, so I must be the same: not particularly patient. The only thing holding me back is some amount of brains and self-preservation instinct.

The "mission" ended, and I got paid peanuts. Counted them. Sighed. Seriously started thinking about making some money... Damn, can't sing in the subway here, and if there are guitars, they're probably expensive.

What else can I do? Hmm, can't write stories—no computers here. I can draw decently, though. Let's try! I bought a stack of paper and some pencils, grabbed a wide board and the only chair from home. Set up on a busy street near the residence and put up a sign: "Drawings to order." Maybe it'll work?

– Artist-san, could you draw me? – A passing kunoichi asked with a laugh.

I looked closer. Mitarashi Anko herself! Damn, she's beautiful. Short dark hair, big eyes, great figure. I hope you've got a decent personality and don't try to kill me, because in the anime, you seemed a bit unstable.

– Fifteen minutes! If you want, strike a pose, and I'll capture you exactly like that.

Anko shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, raising her chin slightly. Alright, let's go! I'll make a few tweaks, she won't mind. Pay extra attention to the face, especially the eyes. Too lazy to draw a background, so I'll fill it with flames, add the Konoha symbol in the corner, and sign it.

– Here you go! That'll be 250 ryō!

– Hmm, not bad! I like it. So, you said 100?

– 250! – That's a decent meal. D-rank missions pay anywhere from 200-600, depending on difficulty, and I'm pegging the ryō close to the ruble.

–My hearing's bad today. 150? And I'll recommend you to my friends—deal? I just don't have much cash on me right now.

– 150, – I agreed with a sigh.

– Uzumaki Naruto? The one and only? – She noticed my signature in the corner.

– In the flesh.

– You should be working on your clan compound, you idiot! Then you wouldn't need to draw on the streets. – She ruffled my hair.

– I have a clan compound?

– You really are a fool, huh? – Her face showed plenty of surprise.

– I'd appreciate no insults—though I agree with you, internally.

I drew on the street until sunset. My hands were tired from holding the pencil, but I made decent money—3,000 ryō (I charged a couple of merchants 350 ryō per drawing—they won't go broke). Bought some groceries just before the store closed and rushed home. I'll deal with the compound tomorrow, after the mission.

While cooking dinner, I could feel a curious gaze from somewhere near the ceiling. Annoying.

– Dear watcher on the wall, I hope you took your shoes off—I just cleaned everything. I can sense you, so don't bother hiding.

Silence. I felt a wave of surprise from the corner. Empathy? Damn it... mixed feelings. On one hand, cool—I can read people and adapt. On the other—where am I supposed to find the time to develop it? More clones? Probably not. My head's been hurting almost non-stop already. Oh! There's a second pair of shoes on the mat. I chuckled to myself.

– Thank you, watcher-san. Care to join me for dinner? I made vegetable stew with meat. It's tasty and not poisonous, I promise. – I tried to stir the ANBU. It's better to befriend the ones keeping tabs on you—they might overlook a few minor slip-ups later.

No answer. Oh well, I serve two plates, setting the second at the opposite end of the table. I turn my back. Out loud, I count from ten to one. I turn back. The plate's gone. Well, good. I eat at my own pace and wash the dishes. When I peeked into the kitchen from the bathroom before bed, there were two washed plates. Perfect, let's consider the bridge built! Even if they're just humoring me, it's still fun.

Either way, I'm not planning to leave Konoha. The life of an exile or a nukenin, as they call it here, isn't for me. What awaits me in the wilderness without instructors and a team? And who would even want me? As a jinchuriki, I'm under heavy surveillance. Running away would be a huge problem, and even if another village accepted me, trust would be an issue.

I lay down on my bed and forced all the clones to disperse. The mental blow was intense. I passed out.