After a few hours, when the shop was nearly empty and it was time to close, Souta stretched his muscles. Running the teahouse alone was exhausting. The owner had practically abandoned the place, leaving everything for him to handle.
With a sigh, he wiped his hands on a cloth and walked over to the only remaining customer. Kushina was still there, sitting silently, her gaze distant.
Was she… waiting for him to get free?
Souta smirked and sat down across from her. "Thanks for the help today."
Kushina shook her head. "Nothing... Just stop charming married women so their husbands don't show up trying to beat you up."
Souta chuckled. "Not my fault they find me interesting."
She rolled her eyes. "It's your fault if you encourage it."
Leaning back, he studied her. "Jealous?"
Kushina scoffed. "In your dreams."
[Ding! Passive Charm Activated]
- Kushina is more comfortable teasing you. Progress toward deeper familiarity has increased.
Souta hid his smirk. "Well, since you're still here, want another cup of tea? Or is there something else on your mind?"
Kushina exhaled, tapping her fingers against the wooden table. "I was just thinking… why don't you try to become a ninja?"
Souta raised an eyebrow. "A ninja?"
"Yeah," she said, leaning forward slightly. "In Konoha, if someone gets the chance to become a ninja, they take it without hesitation. It's a path to strength, recognition, and a better life. But you… you're just sitting here running a teahouse, charming housewives."
Souta chuckled. "And here I thought you enjoyed my company."
Kushina clicked her tongue. "That's not the point, dattebane!"
He smirked. "Then what is?"
She hesitated, crossing her arms. "I just don't get you. You've got skills, I can tell. You're sharp, fast, and—ugh, I hate to admit it—kind of smart. So why waste all that here?"
Souta leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Maybe I just enjoy a quiet life."
Kushina gave him a deadpan look. "A quiet life? With the way you attract trouble, I doubt that."
Souta exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table as he considered her question. Then, he leaned back with a lazy smirk. "You want to know why I don't become a ninja? Simple. If I did, there'd be no 'coming here and there.' No freedom. Just missions, orders, and never enough time for anything else."
His gaze darkened slightly. "If I had a family in the future… I wouldn't want to be the kind of man who's never around. Always gone, always fighting, and leaving them behind, wondering if I'd ever come back."
Kushina visibly flinched, her playful expression faltering. Her fingers tightened slightly against the wooden surface of the table.
That hit deep.
Souta noticed the shift in her eyes—the way her usually fiery demeanor dimmed for just a moment. He didn't press, but he knew. He had struck something personal.
[Ding! Critical Hit!]
- Kushina has been emotionally affected by your words. Affection increased significantly.
She looked away, her voice quieter than before. "I… guess that makes sense."
Souta watched her for a moment before deciding to ease the tension. "Besides," he added with a smirk, "I'm not exactly some prodigy. My talent's pretty trash."
Kushina glanced at him, frowning slightly. "That's a dumb excuse."
He chuckled. "Hey, I'm just being honest. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be anything special."
She huffed. "You don't know that. And even if it were true, effort matters more than raw talent."
A brief silence settled between them before Kushina exhaled and stood up. "I should get going."
Souta nodded. "Yeah, it's getting late. You should head back."
She gave him one last look before leaving. As the door swung shut behind her, he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
'Guess that was too much of a critical hit.'
...
The next morning, Souta was up and dressed, but with the shop unexpectedly closed for the day, he found himself with rare free time on his hands.
With nothing better to do, he decided to take a walk and explore the village.
The streets were already lively—merchants calling out their wares, shinobi passing through on errands, and civilians going about their daily routines. Hands tucked into his pockets, Souta strolled through the bustling marketplace, his mind still lingering on last night's conversation with Kushina.
That reaction…
He smirked to himself. So even she has moments like that.
As he turned a corner, he felt it—a pair of eyes watching him. Subtle, but noticeable.
Souta kept walking, pretending not to notice, but his senses sharpened. Someone was keeping tabs on him.
He slipped into a side alley, then casually leaned against a wall, waiting.
A few seconds later, a shadow moved. A man stepped forward, dressed in a plain brown yukata, but there was something off about him. His stance, the way his hands were positioned—this guy wasn't just some villager.
Souta raised an eyebrow. "If you're gonna stalk someone, at least be a little more discreet."
The man chuckled, stepping closer. "I wasent even trying to keep myself hidden."
Souta frowned slightly. "Do I know you?"
The man smirked. "Not yet. But I know you. The teahouse worker who keeps flirting with the wrong kind of women."
Ah. So that's what this is about.
Souta sighed. "Look, if this is about someone's wife, I swear I didn't do anything—"
"Relax." The man held up a hand. "I'm not here for that." His voice dropped lower. "I'm here to offer you something… an opportunity."
Souta tilted his head. "I'm listening."
The man leaned in slightly. "There's a group in this village that appreciates… talent. Not the kind the Hokage trains, but the kind that can operate outside of his sight."
"Sounds shady as hell."
The man chuckled. "Shady? Maybe. But it pays well. And it gives you power—power that doesn't come with the leash of the shinobi system."
Souta pretended to think, though his mind was already racing. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't just some street thug. His movements were too precise, his words too measured. A professional, working behind the scenes.
"You don't have to decide now," the man said, slipping something into Souta's pocket. "When you're ready, meet us."
Then, just as quickly as he appeared, the man melted back into the crowd.
Souta flipped the parchment between his fingers, his smirk fading as he took in the symbol— a snake coiling around a dagger.
Root.
The implications were immediate. If they had taken notice of him, it meant he wasn't just some civilian running a teahouse. They knew he had potential.
'Or maybe… they just thought I was easy to manipulate.'
Either way, it wasn't good.
He exhaled sharply, his usual carefree demeanor slipping for a moment. Root wasn't just some underground group. It was Danzo's private army—the kind of people who moved in the shadows, executing missions too dirty for the Hokage's eyes. The kind of people who made problems disappear.
'And now they're interested in me?'
Yeah. He needed insurance. A shield. And the best shield he could think of?
Kushina.
He was already close to her. If he played his cards right, there was no way Root would touch him.
Souta shook his head, pushing the thought aside. He'd deal with that headache later. Today was his rare day off—no work, no responsibilities. Just a bit of freedom.
Then, as he turned a corner near one of the busier markets, his eyes landed on a familiar figure.
Mikoto Uchiha.