…
"Huh?"
"You heard me," Katsuro said. The usual laziness in his eyes and voice vanished, replaced by a rare seriousness I'd only seen a handful of times.
I let a small smile creep onto my face and gestured weakly to myself. "Look at me. There's only so much I can do like this, and for the next part of my plan to work, I'm going to need help." I met their eyes, steady and clear. "Hands I can trust."
Before they could reply, I turned to Hina and said, "Let's see the thing."
Hina nodded and pulled out a scroll from her sleeve. It was a compact storage scroll unique to the Lotus Store and Lotus Pavilion by extension.
I took the scroll from her hands, brushing my thumb across the surface for a moment before turning back to the others.
"This," I said, holding it up, "is my latest project. One I believe will help a lot of people ranging from civilians, the wounded and even shinobi."
Aiko raised a brow. "How?"
Instead of answering immediately, I passed the scroll back to Hina and gave a small nod. There was no way I was about to be using my chakra when my pathways have barely recovered.
She nodded once in return and placed the scroll on the floor. Then she formed the tiger hand seal.
With a faint puff, a low burst of chakra smoke spread outward, and as it cleared, stood a sleek, beautifully designed matte black wheelchair.
It had a smooth, durable metal framing and lightweight chakra-treated wood along the armrests. The wheels were wide and covered in shock-absorbing rubber, designed to navigate uneven terrain or tight corridors.
It even had seals subtly embedded in the frame for additional stability and movement assist.
Aiko gasped audibly. Daichi stepped forward, his mouth slightly open as he gave the chair a good look over. Katsuro didn't say a word, but even he leaned in, his eyes shining in curiosity.
"This… is incredible," Daichi said, walking around it slowly. "You made this?"
I gave a soft chuckle. "Let's say I had a hand in it. But no, the craftsmanship is from one of our artisans. I just gave them an image."
"This could change everything for recovery wards," Aiko murmured. "And even missions. Injured shinobi could be moved more easily, civilians with broken limbs could—"
"Exactly." I cut in gently, letting the implications settle. Then I sighed and leaned back against the pillow behind me. "But here's the problem."
Their attention snapped back to me.
"I'm already under scrutiny from the higher-ups. My recovery, my connections, the rumors around me, they'll be watching everything. And the moment Hina walks out of here, now that she's shown her face, they'll be watching her too. Closely."
Hina said nothing. Her expression remained composed as always. What can I say, as expected of a business woman.
"They'll dig," I continued, voice low. "They'll find out her ties to the Pavilion, no matter how deep we've hidden it. And when they do, everything we've built might start unraveling."
"But…" Aiko frowned. "What does that have to do with us?"
"That's where you three come in." I looked at each of them. "Hina's not just a Pavilion staff member. She's my sister—our sister, at least, that's the story we need them to believe."
That, she was. After all, as orphans, we're all basically family.
"She came here out of concern, saw her injured sibling, and was so moved by his condition that she pulled some strings."
"She had a custom chair made," I continued. "Not because she's a secret operative of some rising organization, but because she's just a kindhearted sister who couldn't bear to see her brother struggle."
A beat of silence passed.
Then, Daichi let out a low whistle. "That… that's smart. Really smart."
Aiko's brows were still furrowed, but her expression had shifted from confusion to something closer to reluctant admiration.
"So, you're not just using this chair to move around," she said slowly. "You're using it to move the narrative."
"Exactly." I gave her a tired smile. "If we feed them the story ourselves, they won't go digging for the truth. Or if they do, it'll already be buried under something stronger—emotion.
"Family. Pity." Katsuro chuckled under his breath. "You really don't do anything half-assed, huh?"
I turned my head slightly toward him. "You wouldn't either if you knew how much I stood to lose." There was no saying what people in power would do to stay in control. And with Danzo in the mix…shivers.
His smile faded, and he nodded. "Fair."
Aiko folded her arms, still eyeing the wheelchair like it might bite. "So you're basically asking us to play along."
"Hmm." I hummed in acknowledgement. "Basically. We're all family who go way back to the orphanage. Nothing else."
Daichi rubbed the back of his neck. "Man… this is way above our paygrade."
"You don't get paid," I reminded him dryly.
"Exactly!"
I didn't blame him though. I knew for a fact that if I hadn't brought up my connection to the Lotus Pavilion, it wouldn't be a difficult matter to just deceive them into playing along.
But that isn't what I needed now. Someone still needed to push me along and Hina must definitely not be the person.
Aiko shook her head, lips twitching. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but… you're insane. And I'm in."
Daichi looked from her to the chair, then to me. "Fine. If we're doing this, then I'll make it real convincing. I'll even cry if I have to."
"You won't need to," I said with a smile. "But thank you."
Katsuro gave a slow shrug. "And where do I come in all this?"
"You are a Nara, what you say to some people holds weight." I said. "Just remember, the village will be watching. So everything from this point forward has to be airtight."
The three of them nodded, much more solemn now.
Hina reached down and gently pushed the wheelchair forward until it stopped beside my bed. For the first time, I truly took it in up close.
It was beautiful.
"Help me up," I said.
Daichi stepped forward first, followed by Katsuro, and together they supported me into the chair. Every movement ached, but the second I settled in, it felt… right and secure.
"You look good in it," Aiko said softly.
"Thanks," I replied, looking down at the frame. "Let's make sure it doesn't go to waste.
…
Aiko pushed the wheelchair down the hall without a word. Katsuro, Daichi and Hina trailed behind.
"You better not make me regret this," she muttered.
I smiled faintly. "You already sound like a sister."
She snorted but didn't deny it.
We'd barely rounded the corner past the nurse station when a voice called out.
"Murakami-kun?"
I looked up. "Kaede-san,".
Kaede Uemura, one of the nurses. She's the kind of woman who could lift a grown shinobi onto a bed and still scold them for skipping meals.
She walked over, gaze flicking briefly to Aiko and then to Daichi, Katsuro and Hina following closely behind.
Kaede's eyes narrowed slightly as a moment passed. Then, she looked at the others, gaze sharp. "And you four?"
"Friends," Aiko said smoothly, her hand casually resting on my shoulder now too. "We grew up together."
"From the Orphanage." I clarified lest she read Aiko's words wrongly.
Kaede didn't reply immediately. Her eyes searched their faces, lingering on Katsuro's clan symbol, then on Daichi's casual stance before her gaze turned to Hina.
Finally, she smiled—just a little.
"Well," she said, "I suppose family comes in many forms."
Then she stepped aside and added, "Just bring him back in one piece."
"We will," Aiko said with a smile.
Kaede gave me one last glance, then went on her way.
We rolled out the main doors without further interruption. The air outside was crisp, clean and fresh in a way that hospital air could never be.
The Konoha Hospital was still a one-floor structure. Just a wide, flat building with long corridors, plain tiled floors, and walls painted a dull beige. No upper floors, no specialized wings.
(A/N: In the previous chapter I wrote stairs which indicate one extra floor. After doing my research, I realized the village medical center was still just in its first phase as built by Hashirama and Tobirama.)
Just the basics: a small emergency ward, two surgery rooms, a handful of patient rooms, and a long, open hallway that doubled as a waiting area.
A far cry from the towering complex it would become decades later.
The outside wasn't much better—just a small garden patch with a bench, a dirt path leading back to the main street, and a single wooden sign with the "Konoha Hospital" etched in it.
No guards, no security. Just a nurse at the reception and a few orderlies walking around.
And yet… it felt good to breathe again.
I closed my eyes for a second, taking in the breeze. "Man, I forgot what fresh air smelled like."
Katsuro squinted up at the sky. "Feels weird seeing it with you in a chair."
"Trust me," I muttered as I looked up at the sky. "It's weirder being in the chair."
Aiko glanced at me. "You sure you want to be seen out like this? With everything you just told us?"
"That's the point," I said. "Let them see. Let them talk."
Let the rumors flow just enough to steer the story where I wanted.
"Alright then," she said, tightening her grip on the chair handles. "Where to?"
"The Hokage monument," I answered. I needed to get a good look at Konoha, but as Aiko started to push again, I held up a hand.
"Wait. Let's take the long way."
Daichi blinked. "Huh?"
"It's been a while," I said, my voice quieter now. "Nearly two years since I last took a proper look around the village."
Katsuro raised a brow. "You walk through it all the time."
"Not like this." I glanced toward the familiar street ahead, but this time I wasn't hiding behind a transformation Jutsu. "Not without a disguise. Not without a plan. Just... as myself."
Aiko hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
"I guess this is where I leave you guys." Hina said as we were about to begin our movement.
"Ah. That's right. You have work to do." I nodded. "Thanks for your hard work."
"There's no need for that between us." She said with a fond smile to which I reciprocated before nodding.
And just like that, she left, leaving the four of us to continue on our way.
As we rolled through the village, I couldn't help but notice how different it felt. The air was still thick with the familiar scent of wood, but the village was quieter, more subdued.
Like the calm after a storm…hmm?
Well. It was literally the calm after a storm. There had been an actual war. I wasn't sure what I expected… confetti?
Heh.
The streets were still vibrant, the market bustling as usual, but there was a new edge to it all, an undercurrent of something heavier.
The roads that used to be filled with children's laughter were quieter now. Fewer faces, fewer bright smiles. Some of the older villagers moved slower, carrying more weight than I remembered.
Fathers had lost their children, children had lost their fathers. The same could be said about couples. It was unknown how many were widowed due to the war.
They'd been through something, just like everyone else. The war had changed all of us, whether we wore a Shinobi's headband or not.
Konoha was still the same on the surface, but the edges seemed frayed now, like an old cloth that had been patched together too many times.
The familiar landmarks looked almost foreign, as though I had stepped into someone else's memory of the place.
"Not quite how you remember, huh?" Aiko said softly, breaking my reverie.
"No," I replied quietly. "Not at all."
We kept moving, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Konoha was… different now.
Changed. And not in a good way.