Morning.
A long-awaited beam of sunlight cut through Kirigakure's ever-present fog and fell over the mountain-hidden village.
Kaguya Kazumi—who had been tormented all night by her six-month-old son—yawned as she stumbled into the kitchen, eyes half-closed.
She intended to pick something from the prepared ingredients and cook herself a hearty breakfast as a small reward.
Knife in hand, muscle memory took over.
Chop chop chop.
As she cut ingredients absentmindedly and wondered what she'd do afterward…
A voice that absolutely should not have appeared at this hour drifted in from outside.
"Huh, Kazumi-jie, you're already making breakfast? Can you make me a portion too?"
"Same as yours is fine. I'm not picky."
"…Ren?"
Kazumi turned, completely dumbfounded.
She stared at her younger brother, Kaguya Ren, greeting her from outside the kitchen.
Then she looked at the calendar.
Then she stared again.
Only after seriously thinking for a moment did she stomp over to the dining table—where Ren had already sat down with perfect ease—and shout:
"Why are you here?! Weren't you supposed to be outside the village on a mission?!"
"Whoa, can you keep it down, Kazumi-jie?" Ren had clearly prepared for this; he covered his ears until she stopped yelling, then rolled his eyes.
"What do you mean 'why am I home'?"
"The mission ended. If I'm not home, where else am I supposed to go?"
"Hah?!"
Kazumi's eyes went wide.
"It's only been a little over three days since you left! You finished that fast?!"
"What else?" Ren poured himself hot tea and took a calm sip.
"I reported to the Third last night. The next assignment needs time for intel to be gathered, so I came home to sleep."
He tilted his head, mildly amused.
"What, you hate me that much for mooching breakfast?"
Kazumi's expression sagged instantly.
"So it really was an easy mission…"
She looked more disappointed than angry.
"I thought you were just brushing me off when you said it was 'simple.' But it really was a three-day round trip kind of job?"
"…Yeah."
Ren's tone remained perfectly steady.
"It was a mission with only a tiny bit of impact."
"…"
Kazumi opened her mouth, then closed it.
After staring at her genius little brother for a long moment, she seemed to resign herself, swallowing everything she wanted to say.
"Fine. I can't talk you into anything anyway."
She shook her head and returned to the kitchen.
"As long as you don't think you're wasting time, that's all."
Ren didn't react to the disappointment in her eyes.
Of course she felt that way.
A sister with ordinary talent in the shinobi path would naturally project her unrealized dreams onto her gifted younger brother.
If he couldn't tell her the mission details…
then he could let her lecture him.
He wasn't losing anything.
…
After the rich, delicious breakfast, Ren didn't give Kazumi the chance to grab him for another round of "education."
He left home and headed straight toward Kirigakure's central district.
Now that he possessed the biscuit formula—capable of rapidly restoring injuries and chakra—Ren wanted to gauge how big the market was.
After spending the entire morning investigating, he came to a conclusion that made even him raise an eyebrow:
If three hundred percent profit could make a capitalist sell the rope used to hang themselves…
Then the profit on these biscuits was high enough to make Ren happily volunteer to become Kirigakure's most dazzling streetlamp decoration.
The margin was obscene.
Obscene enough that even an old bloodline clan like the Kaguya could not "eat it alone."
In this era, even in Konoha—where medical ninjutsu was the most developed—
the only medic capable of emergency battlefield triage under enemy pressure, saving people on the brink of death…
was Tsunade of the Sannin.
Other medical-nin?
Forget battlefield rescue under attack.
If they could protect themselves from being captured as hostages, arrive after combat, and treat injured comrades in time—
they were already considered excellent.
A portable, easy-to-use supplement like the biscuit—one that could temporarily "lock" your HP at the brink and restore you enough to turn the tables—
was practically a one-time, weakened, mini, youth-edition Tsunade in your pocket.
Who could refuse that?
Ren originally planned to leverage Kirigakure's coming war declaration against Konoha to push his product out and rake in war profits.
After this morning's research, he quietly abandoned the idea.
Better to wait until he became Mizukage.
Otherwise, even something as simple as deciding supply quotas and distribution priority among Kirigakure's major clans could spark internal conflict.
Later, after Ren finished his survey and sat down in a shop selling tri-color dango to rest—
he heard a familiar voice deliver almost the exact same question Kazumi had earlier.
"Kaguya… Ren?! Why are you here?"
"…Is everyone who knows me going to ask that today?"
Ren sighed, stood with his warm dango in hand, and turned toward the brown-haired girl in casual clothes—Mei Terumi—who had happened to pass by and now stood pointing at him in shock.
"I know you're curious," Ren said, lips twitching. "But we should talk somewhere else."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"You know why."
"…Okay."
Mei nodded slowly.
She had been the one who delivered the mission scroll to Ren.
She didn't know the details.
But the mission had been issued personally by the Third Mizukage and assigned specifically to Ren—the so-called monster.
No matter how you looked at it, it wasn't the kind of thing that ended in three days.
Yet here Ren was, sitting in a shop in the village, eating like he never left.
Mei knew the shinobi rules.
Don't pry into what isn't yours.
But curiosity scratched at her heart like claws—
pushing her to ask what she shouldn't know.
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