The next morning, after finishing his workout, Ayato headed out to buy sunglasses.
"Weird feeling," he muttered, blinking at the odd sensation in his eyes.
Left eye: vision sharpening daily—now mismatched with the right, giving everything a faint double image. Right eye: constant Yin Release drip-feed = nonstop dull ache, like a migraine that refused to quit.
"No wonder the Uchiha are always pissed. Chronic pain turns anyone into an asshole."
He found a pair that tied around the head. Slipped them on—instant cool factor. Sure, they trimmed peripheral vision and might nerf combat a hair, but hiding the eyes was priority one. He wasn't fighting anyone… yet.
If the village caught wind of his secrets, "dissection" would be the nice outcome.
No pocket mirror, so he couldn't check the full look.
"Ayato."
Shikamaru's voice. He turned—yep, the whole Ino-Shika-Cho trio.
"Sunglasses?" Shikamaru blinked, recognizing the back of Ayato's head first.
"Rate the drip." Ayato grinned.
"Not bad." Shikamaru smirked, letting it drop.
"No team for you? You're pretty strong."
They walked together. Choji crunched chips, tuned out. Ino kept sneaking glances—Ayato clocked every one.
Yang-boosted left eye wasn't Byakugan-level yet, but peripheral vision had expanded. No head tilt needed.
"Nah. Don't want missions anyway."
"Not enough missions = no chunin."
"And?"
"Uh… harder missions?"
"Don't want those either."
"Can't trade points for jutsu." Shikamaru sighed—secretly jealous. Troublesome was his brand, but Ayato's zero-responsibility life looked tempting.
"Your jutsu are point-bought?" Ayato teased.
"Nara clan scrolls, actually."
"I'm Senju." Ayato pouted.
"Never seen you use anything beyond the academy trio."
"Wait till Lady Tsunade's back. Then I'll flex."
Shikamaru went quiet. Nara intel said Tsunade had zero plans to return. Missions were the smarter grind, but Ayato clearly wasn't grinding.
"You just suck at ninjutsu. Admit it," Ino cut in, smug. Finally got him back for always bullying Sasuke.
Ayato leaned in. "Sneaking peeks all day, now starting convos… You into me or what?"
"SHUT UP! My heart belongs to Sasuke!" Ino shrieked and bolted.
Shikamaru face-palmed. Leading this squad was pain. Ino: Sasuke-obsessed fangirl. Choji: walking tank, zero brain cells engaged. Him: stuck babysitting.
Choji glanced at fleeing Ino, shrugged, kept eating. Women are weird.
Classic Ino-Shika-Cho—tied to the Sarutobi line via Asuma. Perk: no deadly missions. Downside: Asuma dumped all paperwork on Shikamaru and vanished to date Kurenai.
"Why poke her?" Shikamaru groaned. He'd just calmed her Sasuke obsession enough for D-ranks.
"She'll live. Yamanaka work ethic, right? Won't ditch missions to stalk Sasuke… right?"
"Doubt she'd skip work, but every other sentence is 'Sasuke this, Sasuke that.' Annoying—even if he is good."
"She'll grow out of it."
"Hope so."
"You guys already on missions?"
"One D-rank today."
"Fast."
"D-ranks are cake. Everyone's on the same pace."
Fork in the road.
"I'm home. You?"
"Dad wants a mission report. Troublesome. Being a ninja cuts into cloud-watching time. You've got the life."
"Trade-offs." Ayato waved, turning onto his street.
Running into Shikamaru was pure chance. The guy usually spoke in grunts; today's rant proved the squad was breaking him. Not Ayato's problem—canon events stay on track, he survives.
Strolling his block: "Never memorized when Pain hits. Just know it's during Naruto's sage training. Too busy vibing to note dates. Gotta sell the street before the village gets cratered—no insurance payout if it's rubble."
Plan set: draft sale listings tonight. Plenty of time, no fire sale needed.
At his gate: masked figure waiting. ANBU.
"Ayato?"
"Yeah. Who're you?"
No reason for black ops to visit. He'd kept a low profile—decent taijutsu, barely passing everything else, shuriken a disaster.
"Why didn't you report for missions today?"