"Blind to the board, huh? Planned to sacrifice just one genin for a Senju bloodline sample." "Fine—since even the easy play failed, lose the whole set. One less chunin and genin? No big loss."
For the next few days, Ayato holed up at home, grinding his routines in isolation. Cabin fever hit hard. Morning workout wrapped—he was starving for a proper meal outside. Knock knock.
Door open: Tenten. Same familiar outfit, but dusted with mission grime, fresh off the road.
"Tenten." Grin.
"Yeah. Haven't seen you at the field since the Hokage yanked you. Figured I'd check in." She squeezed past without waiting, straight into the yard.
Months of sparring had blurred the lines—they were easy now.
"Nothing major. Hokage said 'missions,' so I grabbed a long-term yard-cleaning gig."
"Who posted it? Yard work needs a ninja? Hire a civilian for pocket change." She plopped on a nearby weight bench, eyeing him.
"Me."
"Huh?"
"Posted it myself. Cleaning my yard."
She scanned the chaos—dumbbells scattered, dirt tracked. Laughter bubbled. "And this is your progress?"
"Just finished training."
"You'll flunk at this rate." She popped up, already rolling sleeves.
Ayato couldn't slack—grabbed a broom. Yard was compact: shift gear, scoop trash. No flowers to fuss over—just packed earth. Easy.
"Why the hassle? Hate missions that much?" She hefted a barbell, casual.
"Kinda. Prefer village life."
"Plenty of village gigs."
"Social anxiety. Missions mean people."
"Social anxiety?" Side-eye.
Yeah—propose on sight, skip intros. Saves steps from 'acquaintance' to 'fiancé.' Peak introvert.
Ayato knew it sounded lame. Shrugged with a sheepish grin. Truth: didn't wanna leave. Needed an excuse? This was it.
"So self-mission = ditch the field?"
"Miss me?" Can't say 'being watched—don't wanna drag you in.'
"Social anxiety?" Weirder look.
Persona crumbled in two seconds.
"Lunch? Starving for BBQ. Been ages."
Tenten slotted the last dumbbell. "Fine. My treat this time."
He's dodging. Whatever—as long as he's safe at home.No sightings lately. Not chasing skirts.
Gate locked. Stroll to the grill house.
"No afternoon session?"
"Guy-sensei gave us the day. Big escort tomorrow—out of village. Month-plus."
"Ah." Scratch head.
"Post-meal plans?"
"Nah. Neji packs rations. I just grab clothes."
"Lucky. Neji or Shikamaru—dream teammates. Zero logistics stress."
"You could build one. Your level? Jonin lead, all chunin squad. Easy."
"Nah. Other teams lack… you." Deadpan.
Tenten's face flamed. Sneak peek: cool-guy pose. Twist—his waist.
"That your 'anxiety' move?"
"Ow—mercy!"
Sparring punches? Butter. Pinches? Vicious.
"Such pretty hands—cruelty doesn't suit." Rub sore spot.
"Keep it up, I'm out."
"Won't."
Naruto world = early bloomers. But 13? Ayato's mind stayed clean. Pre-order now, collect later. No beast mode.
Akamichi Grill – Usual Booth
Months in: no faking appetites. Knew tastes, portions. Order: perfect fill.
Plates hit the table.
Trio at the edge.
"Fancy meeting again, young ninja. Still solo?"
Ayato looked up: mission-desk chunin. Same genin duo.
Nod. "You three still hunting?"
"Good fit's rare. Most genin too old—generation gap. You? Spot-on. Interest now?"
Head shake. "Long-term unfinished. Bad timing."
"Finish up—we'll team for a trial run. No fit? I'll scout elsewhere."
"Maybe."
Chunin eyed Tenten. "Girlfriend?"
Genin duo scanned her. What's special? Pretty kunoichi. Nothing else.
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