When a broken prodigy steps into a quiet shop, fate quietly shifts its course.
Before long, Ayato had the entire Odd Jobs Shop sorted out.
Aside from a few absolute necessities, he left almost nothing behind. Most of the clutter he had piled outside earlier had already been carted away by Boss Yamazaki, who treated the abandoned goods like buried treasure. Empty shelves now lined the walls, their worn wooden surfaces exposed for the first time in years. Sunlight streamed in through the front windows, revealing dust motes drifting lazily in the air.
The shop felt… lighter.
Ayato dragged a square table—formerly buried under piles of junk—into the center of the room. He wiped it down carefully, then aligned the chairs with deliberate precision, adjusting angles until everything sat neatly symmetrical.
Only then did he straighten up.
In just a short while, the chaotic general store had fully transformed into something new.
A quiet place.
A calm place.
A place suited for contracts, tea, and unhurried conversations.
[Ding! Congratulations, host. Mission completed.]
[Mission 1: Convert the general store into an Odd Jobs Shop]
[Progress: Complete]
[Reward: Zhongli role progress +0.1%!]
[Current Zhongli role progress: 5.3%.]
The system's notification chimed crisply in Ayato's mind.
"So the progress increased again…" Ayato murmured. "System missions really are efficient."
He opened the interface and scanned the remaining objectives.
[Mission 2: Establish a shop rule consistent with Zhongli's conduct. Reward: Zhongli role progress +0.1%.]
[Mission 3: Complete the Odd Jobs Shop's first transaction. Reward: Zhongli role progress +0.1%.]
A shop rule consistent with Zhongli's conduct…
Ayato leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers lightly as he thought.
Zhongli was a man of impeccable etiquette—measured in speech, flawless in ritual, capable of navigating formal ceremonies with effortless elegance. He respected contracts, tradition, and structure to a near-absolute degree.
And yet—
This refined and meticulous gentleman was also infamous for one thing.
He never carried money.
Deals required mora.
Meals required payment.
Transportation required fees.
But Zhongli always walked the world with empty pockets.
In the end, someone else inevitably paid.
He was the embodiment of wealth itself… yet never personally touched currency.
The contradiction amused Ayato every time he thought about it.
"Then money shouldn't be the focus here either," Ayato concluded softly.
He fetched a clean wooden board from the back room. After hesitating for a moment, he dipped his brush into ink and began writing with steady strokes.
Odd Jobs Shop.
Questions answered, doubts resolved.
Any request considered. Tea is provided.
Payment is optional.
The characters were clean and dignified, neither flashy nor plain.
Ayato hung the board beside the entrance, then placed a simple wooden box on the counter—something resembling a donation box rather than a cash register.
Almost instantly, the system chimed again.
[Ding! Congratulations, host. Mission completed.]
[Mission 2: Establish a shop rule consistent with Zhongli's conduct]
[Progress: Complete]
[Reward: Zhongli role progress +0.1%!]
[Current Zhongli role progress: 5.4%.]
"Including the earlier imitation… that's 0.3% already," Ayato noted with faint satisfaction.
Slow, but steady.
Now that the Odd Jobs Shop was officially open, the next step was simple.
Ayato lifted the birdcage from its hook.
"May today also bring fair fortune… no—though I've missed the earliest breakfast, the morning streets of Konoha still offer many sights worth seeing."
The Japanese robin chirped softly, tilting its head.
Ayato smiled faintly and stepped outside.
Konoha's streets were unusually subdued.
Shinobi moved briskly but quietly, their footsteps carrying restrained urgency. Civilians spoke in hushed tones. Newspaper boys hurried past with bundles tucked under their arms, shouting updates that no one truly wanted to hear.
Fragments of conversation drifted through the air.
"The Hokage died last night…"
"It was the Nine-Tails going berserk…"
"They say the Nine-Tails turned into a newborn baby…"
"But the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi-sama, is returning to lead the village…"
Rumors stacked atop rumors, half-truths weaving into something heavier than fact.
Ayato walked calmly through the flow of people, the birdcage swaying gently at his side.
A quiet heaviness pressed against the village atmosphere like low clouds before rain.
Some of the whispers were clearly being guided—intentionally shaped and spread.
Especially the story surrounding the Nine-Tails.
Ayato's brow tightened slightly.
His contract with Minato only guaranteed Naruto's survival.
It did not guarantee kindness.
Nor protection from hatred.
"…It leaves a bitter aftertaste," Ayato murmured.
By midday, crowds converged toward the Memorial Stone.
The funeral for Minato and Kushina had begun.
Ayato followed at a distance, positioning himself behind a bamboo grove overlooking the ceremony. From there, he could see mourners gathering in quiet lines, black-clad shinobi bowing in solemn silence.
For a brief moment, something stirred in his chest.
A faint ripple.
"Every journey eventually reaches its end. There's no need to rush."
The words surfaced naturally.
The robin let out a soft chirp, subdued, as if sensing the mood.
Ayato lingered only briefly before turning away.
Some farewells were better observed from afar.
Back inside the Odd Jobs Shop, Ayato arranged his tea set with practiced calm.
He warmed the teapot, measured the leaves, and poured the water slowly, letting the fragrance bloom naturally. Steam curled upward, carrying a clean, soothing aroma that gradually filled the shop.
The quiet was absolute.
Minutes passed.
Then more minutes.
Occasionally, someone peeked in—only to leave after realizing the shelves no longer carried ordinary goods.
Ayato remained unbothered.
Stillness suited him just fine.
Until—
Jingle.
Jingle.
Jingle.
The wind chime at the door rang.
Ayato lifted his gaze.
A teenage boy stood in the doorway.
White hair.
Half-lidded, exhausted eyes.
A black mask covering the lower half of his face.
A jagged scar cutting across his left eye.
Hatake Kakashi.
Still young.
Still hollow.
In a single year, he had lost his closest friends—Uchiha Obito and Nohara Rin.
And last night, he had lost his mentor.
At this stage, Kakashi's world was pitch black.
The once-dazzling prodigy had begun slipping into emotional numbness, a slow erosion that would eventually shape the man who buried himself in cheap novels and sarcasm.
Ayato continued feeding the robin, not even turning fully.
"So," he said casually, "it's your teacher's memorial day, yet you don't go fulfill a student's duty. Instead, you come to me. Want to hear a story?"
Kakashi walked closer, his gaze sharp despite the lazy posture.
"You know me?"
"Of course," Ayato replied. "The Hatake clan's genius—Hatake Kakashi."
He hung the birdcage onto a wooden beam above the counter.
Silence followed.
Kakashi studied him intently, his visible eye narrowing slightly.
"What do you want?" Ayato asked when Kakashi didn't speak.
"I saw you earlier," Kakashi said quietly. "In the bamboo grove."
Ayato paused for half a second.
"What about it?"
"You said a sentence." Kakashi's voice remained flat, but his eyes betrayed faint tension. "What did it mean?"
"You mean… 'Every journey eventually reaches its end. There's no need to rush'?"
"Yes." Kakashi didn't blink. "Do you know something? And last night—who was that figure in the sky?"
The shop fell silent again.
Tea steam drifted lazily between them.
Ayato slowly poured another cup.
"Sit," he said simply.
Kakashi hesitated—but sat anyway.
The boy's fingers rested lightly on the counter, ready to react at the slightest provocation.
Ayato slid a teacup toward him.
"Drink if you wish," he added calmly.
Kakashi did not touch it.
Ayato didn't mind.
"The answers you're seeking," Ayato said softly, "are heavier than you think."
Kakashi's gaze sharpened.
"You're avoiding the question."
"No," Ayato replied. "I'm measuring whether you're prepared to carry it."
A faint tension crept into Kakashi's posture.
Prepared?
For what?
Ayato lifted his own teacup and took a slow sip.
"You've lost too much in too short a time," Ayato continued. "Your heart hasn't caught up with your mind. If I give you the truth now, it may only deepen the cracks."
Kakashi clenched his jaw.
"I'm not a child."
"Grief does not care about age."
The words struck quietly—but deeply.
Kakashi's fingers tightened.
"…Then why did you say that sentence at the funeral?"
Ayato looked at him steadily.
"Because rushing toward meaning when one's heart is shattered often leads only to deeper wounds."
Kakashi fell silent.
The tea continued steaming untouched between them.
Outside, faint street sounds drifted in through the open door.
Finally, Kakashi spoke again.
"You're saying you know what happened last night."
"Yes."
"You know who that person was."
"Yes."
"You know why the Nine-Tails appeared."
"Yes."
Each answer landed like a controlled blade.
Kakashi's breathing slowed.
"Then tell me."
Ayato met his gaze.
"Not yet."
The refusal carried no mockery—only certainty.
Kakashi's eye darkened slightly.
"You expect me to just walk away?"
Ayato set his teacup down gently.
"No. I expect you to return."
Kakashi paused.
"Return…?"
"When the weight in your heart becomes something you can carry rather than something that drags you into darkness."
Silence stretched between them.
The robin chirped softly above.
Kakashi finally stood.
"You're strange," he said quietly. "But… I'll remember this place."
He turned toward the door.
Just before leaving, he paused.
"Next time," Kakashi said without turning, "you'd better give me a real answer."
Ayato watched him go.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Next time," he murmured, "you'll be ready."
The wind chime rang again as Kakashi disappeared into the street.
And quietly, unseen threads of fate tightened their weave.
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
patreon.com/pikachu614