(Forget your brain—happiness is what matters most.)
(No conspiracy theories—multiple heroines—slice-of-life focus.)
Dusk.
The sun was just kissing the horizon, yet the cold wind still cut at faces like razor blades, each gust a stinging reminder of winter's bite. After last night's heavy, feathery snowfall, the entire village lay swathed in thick silver. Snowflakes danced in the air—it was the season of the white album once more.
Under the sunset glow…
"Shirakumo Aoba, I…I like you!"
Atop the hundred-meter-high Hokage Rock, two tiny figures stood, gazing out over Konoha's snowy panorama. No building in the village could rival this view; from here, one could drink in every snowy rooftop, every glowing lantern. Such splendor inevitably relaxed the mind and lifted the spirit.
And in that environment, the girl's clear, melodious voice floated into the boy's ears. Though he'd faced this exact scenario countless times before, Shirakumo Aoba felt a fresh wave of daze wash over him. Could it be any more absurd? She was only six years old—and already thinking about love? Once again, he witnessed the world of Shinobi logic exploding all around him.
Shirakumo Aoba tore his gaze away from the snow-draped village and looked at the little girl standing beside him—half a year older than he, yet a bit shorter. Her black hair was tied into two adorable topknots, and with her baby-faced round cheeks and thick red quilted coat, she looked irresistibly plump. Her cheeks glowed pink—whether from embarrassment after her confession, or the lingering hues of sunset, he couldn't tell.
"Aoba, if I ever find out my own daughter confessed her feelings at six years old… I'd treat that boy to the biggest feast of stir-fried bamboo shoots and pork!" he thought, savoring the righteous indignation. "And I'd sprinkle chili powder on those shoots, too—just to let off some steam."
But now that the confession was aimed at him, he had to pretend he'd never thought it.
Facing the girl's earnest yet unpracticed declaration, Shirakumo Aoba opened his mouth—thinking it was just another game, as always—and was about to respond when she clapped a small hand over his lips. Her face flushed an even deeper red as she whispered, "This…this time, it's not pretend…"
Her clear, pure eyes met his, and Aoba realized the moment had shifted. The girl—Tsubaki—dropped her hand and turned her gaze away, twisting her small fingers together in front of her chest, visibly trembling with nerves.
"Well…"
Now it was Shirakumo Aoba's turn to be at a loss. Their arrangement had always been so simple—a tutoring in shuriken-throwing in exchange for a little pocket money. How did emotions get mixed in? It wasn't that he didn't like Tsubaki—he simply feared that, once he agreed, he'd come home someday to the hiss of a boiling kettle…
Better to stall for now. "How about we keep playing house?" he suggested. "Or I'll give you today's guidance for free—what do you say?"
Tsubaki's big eyes locked onto his, her breathing growing rapid. A little anger mark bloomed on her forehead, her plump cheeks puffed, and she rounded up like an angry kitten.
"You don't like me because you prefer Ino?"
"Or Sakura?"
Shirakumo Aoba felt his head spin. He was only five—he thought he was simply their tutor, guiding them through missions, never expecting to be thrust into this high-stakes emotional arena. "When we all play together, isn't it more fun?"
"Who do you like better?" Tsubaki demanded as Aoba fell silent.
Swallowing hard—caught in the crossfire between three little ninja girls—he blurted, "I…prefer money!"
An awkward hush fell.
"You jerk!" Tsubaki ground her teeth and stomped on Aoba's instep.
"Yowch!" He gasped and sucked in a breath of icy air.
"Ha!" she huffed. "If you're so greedy for money, then go live with it your whole life!"
With that, she pulled a detonating talisman from her pocket, hurled it at his face, then stormed off in a huff.
Watching her retreating back, Shirakumo Aoba sighed inwardly. Shinobi kids sure were precocious. Although Tsubaki looked furious now, he chose not to chase after her—better to wait until tomorrow, when her anger would cool. After all, they were children; grudges rarely lasted overnight.
He picked up the talisman she'd flung to the ground. It had been a scary moment—had she really meant to detonate it? Detonating talismans cost two thousand ryō each. This could count as his tutoring fee, he decided. After all, over the past year he'd regularly coached her in advanced shuriken-throwing. Part of her payment had already been spent on lessons.
And right now, he was desperately short on funds—not because his family was poor. Though fatherless and motherless, he lived with his uncle, an elite jōnin, so he never lacked food or clothing. No—the culprit was his troublesome system, which had suddenly awakened.
Once Tsubaki's figure vanished from view, Shirakumo Aoba opened his system panel.
[Ninja Card Drawing System Lv. 1]
(Can upgrade by spending two "cost" units.)
Huh—just one Asuma card away from leveling up.
[Host can recharge items of equivalent value to draw cards and obtain desired abilities.]
[Current draws: 89]
[Each draw costs 1,000 ryō; 100 draws guarantee an SR, 300 an SSR, 1,000 an UR.]
[21 draws until next guaranteed SR; 211 until next SSR; 911 until next UR.]
[Draw history:]
SR: Advanced Shuriken-Throwing Technique
R: Small Chakra Potion × 6; Shuriken × 48; Kunai × 30; Detonating Talisman × 4
Detonating talismans and small chakra potions were on a once-every-ten-draws guarantee. That potion was extremely handy—he was only five, yet already his chakra output rivaled an average genin. If he drew hundreds of thousands of times, he'd practically become a human tailed-beast!
Still, the drop rates were painfully low. Beyond the SR from the initial ten-draw bonus when the system first activated, he'd only ever claimed his pity-draw SR. Yet that advanced shuriken skill was cost-effective and invaluable in the early stages. It even provided a steady income—he was now Tsubaki's shuriken instructor. A private tutor and a schoolgirl student… it was so very island-flavored, but he supposed he had to adapt to local customs.