"Kameko was talking about the gold mine operation your base ran, and I asked a question about keeping track of your surroundings when there's such a sheer quantity of enemies and allies around you," said Momoe.

It had been almost two years since she had seen Takuma after their impromptu sparring session. He had always looked tired and haggard from their academy days, but it had only seemed to worsen with age. He looked worn out as though he hadn't properly rested in who knew how long... and yet his eyes were alert.

There was a focused clarity in them as he sat across the table listening to her.

"How did you manage in all that chaos?" she asked.

Takuma glanced at Kameko for a moment before turning back to her. "Trust your teammates with your back. Protect them, and they will protect you," he said.

"Kameko said the same thing," said Momoe, nodding. She was expecting another answer, but it made sense, seeing that they shared the same experience.

She wanted to know more about what Kameko was saying before Takuma had stopped her. Kameko claimed that he killed a jonin, which she found hard to believe, but Kameko wasn't the type to make false claims, so there had to be some truth to it.

Seeing that Takuma was quick to shut Hiji down when he brought up the jonin topic, it was evident that he wasn't willing to talk about it and would most likely change the subject or perhaps even straight out leave. But she could learn more about him by simply talking to him and gaining some insight through that route.

"But what do you do if you are separated from your teammates?" Takuma proposed a question.

"Oh?"

"I have only been in one such situation, so I don't know if it's natural, but crowds formed in that pit. Because there are too many people to keep track of, you automatically want to get away to avoid danger—to get to a place where you don't have to be on the watch for so many people... That seems to be a natural response for everyone. Do you agree?"

"That makes sense, yes," she replied.

"The same response from over two hundred people resulted in the formation of small crowds or groups across the battlefield. These small crowds had perhaps seven to nine people, equally divided into allies and enemies—which is just enough that someone can keep track comfortably." Takuma paused for a moment and looked as though he was finding it difficult to find the correct words until he looked around the gathering. "Take our tables as an example..."

The izakaya's dining space was open, with six low tables in two rows of three. The class had occupied four tables, with the last two tables empty. The popular table had moved two tables closer to merge them into one.

"...Groups like our tables formed in that pit," Takuma continued, "people distancing themselves created dense zones, creating enough space between each table where you no longer had to watch out for people on the tables. They were still very much a threat, but the common response had everyone more worried about what was near them."

"I see... so now, instead of teammates, you have allies to protect your back," said Momoe as the bird-eye view of a battlefield of hundreds of shinobi divided into smaller zones.

"Not as good as having a trusted teammate, but it's the next best option."

As they talked, Arisu took Hana's place beside Takuma after she moved to another table to play host. On the other side of the table, Izumi moved to Momoe's side.

"But what if the allies around you choose to focus on their own opponent? You can't be sure they would cover for you," asked Izumi. She had been following the conversation.

Takuma snapped a pair of disposable chopsticks as Arisu placed a plate of fried chicken on the table between them. "That's very much possible, but it becomes difficult when other enemies are constantly in your field of view. You start to think what would happen if one of your allies died..."

"The enemy would outnumber you, and the balance would crumble," Momoe pursed her lips.

"That's exactly right. And when you arrive at that thought, you realise you can't allow one of your allies to die because your chances of survival go down with them," said Takuma as he put down the chopsticks. "Just like any battle, it takes one second, one move, one mistake for the tide to change and for things to go horribly wrong. Any competent fighter knows that, unlike spars, most real battles aren't fought in a vacuum."

"So the key is to outlast the other side. Keep each other alive until someone from the other side falls," Arisu commented as she poured a little bit of sauce on her plate.

"You are half correct, or at least, you're looking at it slightly incorrectly," said Takuma. "Maintaining balance between the two sides shouldn't be a priority—breaking it should be."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"What do you mean?" asked Izumi with a furrow in her brow.

"It's impossible to maintain that balance because someone is going to die sooner or later. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that something will go wrong., If you find yourself in a position like that, do not be on the defensive—try to help your allies kill their opponents... Throw a kunai to catch the opponent off guard; if you're using a ninjutsu, try to aim it in a way that it gets a second target as well—try to sow chaos because one second, one move, one mistake…. that's all it takes for things to start going right. It's a domino—you just need that first tile to fall to set off the chain... One second, one move, one mistake—that's all it takes for the tide to change and for things to go right."

All three girls went silent at his words. This was the type of knowledge you could only get from someone who had experienced the situation.

He is smart, thought Momoe.

There was a time when she had the lowest impression of Takuma. He was everything shinobi expected a civilian student would be—always lower quality than those with shinobi pedigree. He was at the absolute bottom of their class, and it only worsened when they entered their final year. She understood that someone had to be in the last place, but that didn't mean he needed to be so much worse than everyone else.

Even though he somewhat bridged that gap by the end of the year, it was perhaps the reason he wasn't allowed to test for a jonin team and no one was surprised by that news. It was because of his poor track record, but she could tell that, in addition to that, a lot of people pointed to his civilian, orphan background as a fault.

She blamed him for representing the stereotype. She hated that people thought of civilian-born shinobi as worse than their clan counterparts. She understood there was a difference between the two groups because of the resources available to each— and that she was privileged because of her parents—but people who didn't put in genuine effort got on her nerves.

Then, there was Hiji's bullying that Takuma never opposed. She had tried to help, but he took no initiative of his own, which only served to drop her opinion of him. She disliked the academy teachers who did nothing about the bullying when there was no way they could've missed it.

Did they not care because Takuma was a civilian while Hiji came from a clan?

She hated all of it.

After their class graduated, Momoe no longer had a connection with Takuma, which, along with her busy life, made her forget about him.

Out of sight, out of mind.

That changed when she found that Takuma had entered the Police Force from Arisu. It was a mighty fine opportunity to be one of the first outsiders to enter a closed organisation like the Police Force, and if he could grab it, Takuma could turn his life around. She was doubtful he could accomplish it because of his track record, but seeing that the Police Force had hired him, perhaps they had seen something she had missed, or he had changed since graduation.

And Takuma had indeed changed. It was utterly shocking when he fought toe-to-toe with her teammate, Akimichi Hideaki. She was utterly surprised by the rate at which Takuma had improved to the point he had caught up to Hideaki, who, while not the hardest worker, always did what was asked of him without complaints—which included training.

She wanted to see how much he had improved, so she threw the B-rank ninjutsu she had just learned at him to see what he would do. Her teacher was there, so she wasn't worried about things going wrong, and he didn't need to interfere as Takuma handled himself.

He gave up the fight in the end—but there was no shame in it.

His progress was undeniable proof that he had made a real effort to improve. She hated people who didn't put in effort, but she respected those who gave it their all. And she could tell that he must've given it more than his all to reach the point he did after starting behind everyone else.

Takuma had indeed turned his life around because even though news articles about the Narcotics Taskforce didn't have his name, she knew from Arisu that he was the leader. He had turned the opportunity into exemplary results. It was deserving of praise.

"I have been following your career through the news articles about the Narcotics Taskforce," she said. "It's utterly late, but nevertheless, allow me to congratulate you. You have done some great work." She gave a nod to Arisu as well.

"Thank you," said Takuma.

"So what's in the plans now that you have returned?" asked Momoe.

She was expecting to tell him something like he was settling in after his return, but the awkward look Arisu and Takuma shared said to her that something else was going on.

"Let's just say that a lot of things are in the process, and I'm excited to be back," said Takuma. "Now, I must admit, I'm interested in your experience as a new chunin..."

He changed the topic. Momoe hid her surprise and wondered what had happened for them to react like that.

"...I must say I was out of my depth when I started with the Narcotics Taskforce. If not for Arisu, I would not have been able to handle the managerial side of things. She's still better at it than me."

"Shower me with more praise," Arisu said, puffing her chest.

"How has it been leading teams on missions?" Takuma asked Momoe.

Momoe had been a chunin for half a year. Most new chunin split their time between joining missions led by jonin or other experienced chunin to learn on the job—and then applying what they had learned by leading genin on missions.

"I'm grateful that Kazuo-sensei prepared us by allowing us to practise leadership," said Momoe, thinking back to her experience as a genin. "I believe it was seven or eight months into our time as genin when he started sending us on every third D-rank mission on our own; we rotated the leader position and had to complete the mission to the client's satisfaction—quarterway through our second year, he stopped participating in D-rank missions altogether, and trusted us to do it on our own... He repeated the same method with C-rank missions halfway through our second year, and the moment I made chunin, he stopped participating in them as well.

"So I wasn't nervous leading missions, and I'm sure it would be the same with Hideaki and Aimi."

Takuma looked surprised but nodded. "That makes sense, actually. Just simple and practical teaching."

"Indeed," said Momoe.

Takuma then started asking more questions that Momoe was happy to answer. Out of all civilian-background genin in their batch—or the two batches above then—he was the one who seemed to have accomplished the most, and she wanted to get to know him better and perhaps establish a better peer relationship.