“This mission isn’t like the ones I’ve done so far. Not only is it outside the village, it’s a C-rank, which means there’s a high likelihood of combat.”

“Not against other shinobi, mind you,” I said, rushing to calm Ayame down with a lie—a lie of omission, but still a lie. “But because of the likelihood of combat, it means writing a will.”

A dark look crawled over Teuchi’s face, accompanied by Ayame’s gasp.

He was always a more perceptive man than most and knew me better than anyone; he was the one who saw me at my mental lowest and helped me through a lot in life. He was the closest thing to a father that I had in this second life, so I was afraid of hurting him by revealing that I’d included him in my will.

Not just him, but Ayame too, which was why I’d put off revealing the mission to the two of them for as long as possible.

“Naruto…” Ayame looked ready to either hug me or launch into a lecture—possibly both.

“I don’t want to die.”

The two of them sat straighter at my bluntness.

“That said, as a shinobi, I’ve got to account for all the possibilities. If I die without a will, everything I own will go back to the village, and the little money I’ve saved will end up in the village’s coffers. I don’t want that to happen when I’ve got people I care about more than the people who made my childhood hell.”

“But to write a will…” Ayame trailed off with a shudder. “...It’s ominous.”

“It’s standard procedure,” I said with a sad smile.

Teuchi sighed. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve included Ayame and I in your will?”

Ayame nearly stood up in shock. “Naruto!”

Instead of replying, I removed a folded piece of paper from my pocket. Clearing my throat, I made sure to keep my eyes on the paper, afraid of what I’d see on their faces if I looked up. “I, Naruto Uzumaki of the Hidden Leaf Village, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me or in my name.

Teuchi rubbed a wizened hand over his face, his face looking older than I’d ever seen. Ayame wiped the glistening film of tears from her eyes, spilling a few droplets down her face, but she set her jaw to hear out the rest of my will to its end. Something in my chest twinged at the sight—I didn’t plan on dying but this was one of those things that were necessary if the worst-case scenario played out.

Taking a deep breath, I firmed my resolve and continued reading.

“I leave my estate as follows: to Teuchi, employer and close friend, of the Hidden Leaf Village, I leave the sum of 300,000 ryo to be removed from my savings account. To Ayame, a close friend, of the Hidden Leaf Village, I leave the sum of 300,000 ryo to also be removed from my savings account. To the Leaf Village Welfare Association, I leave my apartment to be transferred to an eligible orphan at the earliest convenience.”

Pausing, I skipped over irrelevant bits such as guardianships or debts and expenses, taking in a fragile breath before starting up before either of them could interrupt. I spared a glance over the paper but neither of them seemed ready to move, let alone speak.

“I leave the residue of my estate to Ramen Ichiraku, my place of employment.” Looking up from the paper for a moment, I saw the swelling of unshed tears in Teuchi’s eyes. “In the case that Ramen Ichiraku as an establishment; its owner, Teuchi of the Hidden Leaf; or his daughter, Ayame of the Hidden Leaf; predecease me, the residue of my estate shall be distributed to the various orphanages of the Hidden Leaf Village.”

I returned the folded paper to my pocket with a dry mouth and a sense of emptiness as I sat down on the sofa. My eyes didn’t leave the carpeted floor—I could feel my will and its words hanging in the air with a heaviness that made it hard to do anything else.

Until Teuchi broke the silence.

“Okay,” he said standing up. “This is understandably… a lot, but I’m honoured—we are honoured—that you love us enough to leave us something in the event of your death.”

I smiled hollowly. “Mr Teuchi, I—”

“However,” his voice turned stern, “we will have no more talk of death. It’s an inevitability—even more so as a shinobi—but when death comes for us in its diabolical forms, most of the time, we fight like hell against it, shinobi or not, and I expect you to do the same.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I gave him a salute, not quite managing a grin. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now come here and hug me, you gloomy brat.”

I chuckled and did as asked, feeling a weight rest against my back. When the arms wrapped around me, I realised Ayame had laid her head across my back and enveloped Teuchi and I in a hug of her own. It was heartwarming for all of ten seconds until the functional strains of hugging a seated person while receiving one from someone else became apparent.

I tried to wriggle out without hurting Teuchi but gave up after Ayame made it clear she wasn’t letting go of me.

“Ayame,” said Teuchi warningly.

She let go immediately, freeing the older man from the both of us.

“Do you have any more solemn news to announce, or is that the worst of it?” asked Teuchi, now on his feet.

I shook my head. “That’s about the worst of it.”

He shook his head with a wry laugh and walked down the corridor.

With that kind of weight off my shoulders, I enjoyed the final afternoon before my first C-rank as well as I could. I hadn’t spent this much time with Teuchi and Ayame since I started in the Academy—it wasn’t on purpose, but with the numerous things on my plate, I’d found less time to spend with them outside of my shifts.

It bothered me so much that before I left, I promised to spend more time with them moving forward.

After such a sumptuous meal and a quick run to burn through some energy, I hoped to sleep restfully but that wasn’t the case. I spent the first couple of hours awake in bed, my mind too active to rest, so I went through my mission equipment twice over. It didn’t help anything as far as my restlessness went, but when I returned to my bed, it was cool again.

What felt like five minutes later, my alarm blared beside my head and I freed a fumbling hand from my covers and silenced it, getting to work.

Breakfast was a sordid affair of leftover ramen from the afternoon at Teuchi and Ayame’s house. Usually, I’d have something more balanced but from the moment I opened my eyes, I had half an hour to get ready and assemble at the western gate.

I slipped my restocked holsters and packs into my ratty robes, tightened my wooden sandals, and—for the first time, left my training weights underneath behind. It was a relatively small thing, but it was like leaving a part of myself behind.

I forged on, tightening my grip over the worn backpack slung across my back.

To my surprise, Asuma was the first person there, leisurely smoking a cigarette on the stone steps of one of the nearby buildings. He was wearing a simple, worn burgundy kimono and wooden sandals. The hair that was usually pushed up by his forehead protector fell over his forehead and I couldn’t see a single weapon on his person.

No doubt they were concealed on his person, either inside his sleeves or in storage seals somewhere.

He gave me a nod in greeting, slowly going through his cigarette. I kept a reasonable distance from him on account of the spell and placed my backpack next to me, sitting on the staircase opposite his.

“I hate how uncomfortable these clothes are,” I said. “Look at how frayed the cuff of this thing is too.”

Asuma chuckled. “We need it for cover and you know Hinata has it worse than you.”

“I can’t believe her father’s letting her wear contact lenses.”

“For all their blowharding about pride, the Hyuuga are still a shinobi clan. It’d be stupid to flaunt their famed eyes when it’d get in the way of the mission.”

“You’ve got a point,” I said.

Hinata and Choji arrived not even a few minutes later, also dressed in shabby peasant clothes. Unlike me, they were carrying plastic bags, which they laid at Asuma’s feet. He unfurled a scroll just about the width of my backpack, laying it on the floor. It was marked all over with some kind of script.

We stood around it and watched him stack the contents of the bags within the scroll’s boundaries. When he was sure everything was perfectly balanced, Asuma made a hand sign. A thick surge of smoke burst from the scroll and when it cleared, the equipment was gone. He rolled up the scroll and slid it into a protective case before placing it at the very bottom of my bag, ensuring it wouldn’t get damaged by my equipment.

“Thanks for agreeing to carry our stuff, Naruto,” said Choji for the first time today and the third time since we were given our mission.

I rolled my eyes. “Again, you’re welcome, but it makes strategic sense as well. It’s pretty uncommon for a group of peasants to be carrying a bag full of possessions each. They rarely have more than one since they… you know, don’t own much.”

“Just take my thanks,” said Choji with a sigh.

Hinata laughed. “I’m sorry, but with Naruto, that is impossible. You'd have better chances getting Asuma-sensei to quit smoking.”

Her usually ivory-coloured eyes were a startling brown—not because of their shade, but because the colour made Hinata look like an entirely different person. Choji’s markings could be shrugged off so he hadn’t bothered to hide them and, of course, none of us were wearing our forehead protectors.

I tuned out their teasing with a shake of my head and smothered a low yawn.

“Hey, I’m not even involved in this,” Asuma stamped out his cigarette and banished the smell with a chuckle, “but that’s fine. Let’s get a move on, kids. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. I want us to get halfway to Tenka Village by the end of this week without draining too much energy.”

I shared a nod with my teammates before we set off.

We stopped in front of a booth just before the western gates—they’d never looked so big before— and Asuma tapped his fingers against the glass, alerting up the chunin inside. She scanned the clipboard on the desk and crossed us off the list.

“Team 10, you are cleared to leave.” Her gaze moved past Asuma and landed on the three of us, softening slightly—well, at least when it left me. “Good luck.”