CH_3.4 (063)

CH_3.4 (063)

"You can change here," said the old farmer pushing open the door to the wooden shed. "Good job today. You really helped me out, boy."

Takuma thanked the farmer and entered the shed to change his clothes. Helping as a farm hand was a common D-rank mission. Strong shinobi were majorly effective in all kinds of jobs from tilling to repair work across a farm or livestock ranch, as such a significant portion of the genin population was involved in some part of farming throughout the year.

Today, he had dragged a farm tiller across the large field all day to help it prepare for sowing for a new crop.

Takuma changed out of his dirty shinobi gear into the change of civilian clothes he had brought along with him. His day's work was over, and all he wanted was to go home and take a shower, but before that, he needed to go shopping for groceries.

He sighed as he pulled the shirt over his shoulders.

"—You can take your time before answering me—"

Shady Guy had left Takuma with those words and a way to contact him, and since then, the conversation had been the one thing occupying his mind. No matter what he was doing, a part of his mind was always thinking about how to approach the invitation.

It was clear that Shady Guy hadn't extended the invitation because he had good intentions for him, and thinking otherwise would've been the height of naivety and foolishness. With what Takuma knew, it was most probably that Shady Guy gained some incentive to get a new fighter into the underground fighting ring.

Who better to employ as a recruiter than someone who had been observing a group of people daily over a two-month fighting period. Shady Guy had two months to watch him fight— not just fighting, he had two months to observe everything about him. The Iryo-nin must've seen something in him that led to the invitation.

What was that something? Was it something positive, meaning he would flourish in the fighting ring? Or was it something negative, like he was an easy target to dupe with the promise of mission points?

It could be either.

The way he saw it, a crossroad of two choices stood before him. The safe option— reject Shady Guy's invitation and continue on with his life, or the risky option— take a chance with the opportunity in front of him to earn an additional source of money and mission points.

He was conflicted because the invitation was a one-time thing. Shady Guy had told him that he would wait for a couple days, and if Takuma didn't have an answer for him, he would consider the offer rejected. What if the offer was legitimate, and he could gain more mission points fighting? He felt declining the invitation would have him miss out on an opportunity that could prove to be beneficial for him.

The decision continued to plague him.

As it stood, if he couldn't resolve his confusion by Shady Guy's deadline, he would let the opportunity pass.

Takuma grabbed the local produce he bought directly from the farmers and departed from the farm on the village's outskirts dedicated to large farming fields and plantations and began running towards the urban city part of the village. He liked the rural part of the village with its openness and quiet, so much different from the crowded and noisy city. It was one of the reasons why he liked farming jobs, as it took him away from the city. He had lived his entire life in metropolitan cities, and even now, he lived in the Leaf village— but he knew if he ever bought a house for himself, it would be away from the city. It helped that he could literally run to the city if he needed something.

The open field turned into suburbia, which then turned into the densely built tall buildings of the center of the Leaf village.

Takuma was tired. He had left home before the sun-up to get to the farm for the work that started at sunrise, and the sun was setting by the time he had left. He wanted to get the remaining grocery and get home so he could relax.

With those thoughts, Takuma entered the shopping street he frequented for grocery needs.

"Takuma!"

A voice that sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put the finger on it, called him, and it made him look. Looking at the person did connect the dots in his brain.

"Izumi?"

Standing in front of him was Uchiha Izumi. It had been well over half a year since he had seen her (or any of his classmates who had been selected by a Jonin). She didn't look much different from what he remembered; the only difference was that she now wore a forehead protector.

"It's been such a long time! How are you?" Izumi stepped closer to him and looked him up and down. "Hmm, you have grown taller... you're as tall as me now," she pouted.i was right. He had grown taller in the half year, enough to force a change of wardrobe because his clothes no longer fit him properly. Izumi was tall for a girl, and it had taken Takuma a year and a half of proper nutrition to catch up.

"Coming from somewhere? You have mud on your face," she giggled.

Izumi caught the potential of a misunderstanding and immediately interjected,

"Itachi—"

"Genin Corp," said Takuma.

"Ah, is that so," Itachi's eyes widened a fraction before he nodded. He moved on swiftly, "If you're from the same batch as Izumi.... Did you participate in the Genin Corp's basic training tournament?"

"Huh, what's that?" It seemed Izumi hadn't heard of the final tournament.

"I was invited to spectate, but I don't enjoy those types of competitions," said Itachi before giving Izumi a brief explanation about the final tournament— his explanation was from the Chunin viewpoint.

Unlike her clanmate, Izumi looked genuinely interested and turned to Takuma, "Did you participate?" she asked.

"I did. In fact, I won the competition," Takuma said with a smile­— he wanted this interaction to end immediately.

"Oh, congratulations!" Izumi said, her face glowing up.

"Thank you," Takuma nodded. "Now, while I would like to catch up with you and get some tips from you," he glanced at Itachi, "I have an early day tomorrow. And I'm sure you guys are busy as well, so I unfortunately have to leave. Let's meet up sometime later, alright?"

Takuma made sure it didn't seem abrupt before parting with the pair. He walked and kept walking without looking back; not for a moment did he stop, not until he was inside his home with the door locked behind him and the curtains drawn.

He had forgotten...

The desperate training to catch up to his academy peers... the stress of passing the academy graduation test... the grueling basic training.... the hours devoted to learning jutsu in the efforts to win the final tournament... the day-in-and-day-out loop of D-rank missions.

He had gotten so busy and sucked into living his life day by day, doing the things required by him, that he had forgotten about what truly lay out there in the world and the future.

He was not ready. He knew that, of course— but the abrupt meeting with Itachi had made him come face-to-face with it. The Uchiha massacre was so close. He didn't know when it exactly was going to happen, but he knew that Itachi was really young when it happened. If he had to give his best estimate, he would say that it was two years away at best.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' his back was drenched entirely, and his heart was bursting in his chest.

It wasn't just the Uchiha massacre that was looming in the future.

Akatsuki had already been formed. Obito had started the 'new' Akatsuki with Pain. Orochimaru had already left the Leaf and had joined Akatsuki. After the Uchiha massacre, Itachi would join Akatsuki as a double agent, which meant they were already perceived as a significant threat before the massacre. Orochimaru would then break away from Akatsuki and form his own village— the Hidden Sand's attack along with Orochimaru at the Leaf village was so near.

He could be killed in that invasion.

Takuma didn't have the time he thought he had.

He was living as a genin, doing things that other genin would do, thinking that if he continued to do things he was doing, he would progress. But that was not enough.

He needed to do more.

That night, Takuma wasn't able to go to sleep— his mind kept him locked in with his own thoughts.

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