Aoki Ninja Tools Shop.
The shop was dimly lit, its walls lined with shelves neatly stocked with every kind of shinobi equipment.
Behind the counter sat a thin, gray-haired old man wearing a monocle.
Under the glow of a desk lamp, he patiently worked a small file along the edge of a kunai, sharpening the blade with slow, practiced strokes.
At the rustle of the entrance curtain, he raised his eyes.
His gaze paused briefly on Shuji’s forehead protector, swept over Itachi and Anko behind him, then returned to Shuji’s face.
He gave a slight nod.
“Two sets of combat clothing,” Shuji said as he approached the counter.
“Use thick, wear-resistant fabric, with built-in padding around the joints.” The old man set down his file, stood, and pulled several rolls of heavy fabric in different colors from the deeper shelves.
“Dark gray, indigo, and deep green.
The indigo and green are new stock.
They’re woven with better fibers, so their flexibility and protection are more than thirty percent better.
They also cost fifty percent more.” Shuji looked at Anko and Itachi.
“Choose your own colors.
Anko, you also need new weighted leg wraps and forearm guards.
Your old ones are badly worn.” He turned back to the shopkeeper.
“Give her a standard chūnin-grade set.” “For Itachi, keep the protective gear lightweight.
Mobility takes priority.” Normally, a genin would not go out of their way to buy specialized combat clothing or protective gear.
Such equipment was expensive, and the missions assigned to ordinary genin rarely justified the cost.
Itachi, however, was no longer part of an ordinary genin team.
The squad he had joined would be handling high-level missions, so proper equipment was another matter entirely.
Anko looked over the rolls of dark fabric and pursed her lips.
But her attention was quickly drawn to something hanging from a nearby rack—a short, hooded combat coat in a deep shade of purple.
The fabric had a distinctive matte finish.
Its cut was sharp and practical, with reinforced sections at the shoulders and elbows.
There was something clean, bold, and slightly rebellious about it.
“That…” Anko pointed toward it, sounding almost tentative.
“That counts as protective gear too, right?” The old man followed her gaze.
“A combat coat.
The outer layer has been specially treated.
Lightweight and breathable, though its protection is slightly weaker than a standard flak jacket.” Anko’s eyes immediately lit up.
“I’ll take that one!
Purple, in my size!” Some of the gloom that had clung to her earlier seemed to disappear the moment she saw it.
It was almost as if that vivid purple could cut straight through the haze hanging over her heart.
Itachi, meanwhile, quietly pointed to the roll of indigo fabric, then gestured to indicate his height.
The old man noted their choices and disappeared into the storeroom.
While they waited, Itachi’s gaze drifted toward rows of specialized shuriken displayed beneath the glass counter.
One model in particular caught his attention.
Tiny reverse-facing serrations lined its edges, and beneath the lamplight, the metal reflected a cold bluish gleam.
He stared at it intently.
“Want one?” Shuji followed his gaze.
“It’s a newer model of Fūma shuriken.
The design improves its ability to penetrate armor and tear through a target, but it demands much better throwing technique.” He glanced at Itachi’s hands.
“With your current wrist strength, you could barely use it, but you wouldn’t be able to bring out its full power.
Worse, you’d risk injuring yourself.” Shuji’s tone remained matter-of-fact.
“Next year.
Once you’ve grown stronger, you can switch to one.” Itachi silently withdrew his gaze and nodded.
The old shopkeeper soon returned carrying the clothing and several brand-new sets of protective gear.
Anko eagerly took the dark-purple combat coat, running her fingers over the fabric as though confirming it was really hers.
Itachi received his own indigo combat outfit as well.
“That will be one hundred and seventy-eight thousand ryō,” the old man said evenly.
Anko’s arms stiffened almost imperceptibly around her new coat.
She stared at Shuji, surprise and suspicion immediately creeping into her expression.
Of course she knew ninja equipment was expensive.
But this price…
She lowered her voice and muttered, “Captain…
you’re not secretly some ridiculously rich guy, are you?
First you treat us to dinner, and now this gift…” She weighed the finely made paper bag in her hands, suddenly much more conscious of what it contained.
Shuji took out his money pouch, counted out a thick stack of bills, and handed it to the old man without hesitation.
He gave Anko a sidelong glance.
“If you feel that guilty about it, I don’t mind letting you pay for your own.” Then he added casually, “I made quite a bit extra on my last mission.” Anko gave an awkward laugh and tightened her arms around the coat.
She immediately stopped talking.
The old man finished counting the money and nodded.
By the time the three stepped out of the ninja tools shop, night had completely fallen.
Anko wore a slightly stiff expression as she carried the new combat coat over one arm, while Itachi held his own package against his chest.
Around them, the lights of Konoha’s shopping district seemed brighter than ever against the darkness.
“Since we’re already talking about money,” Shuji said, his voice carrying clearly through the bustle around them, “we should establish how mission rewards will be divided.” He continued walking as he looked between the two.
“From now on, forty percent of all mission income goes into the team’s shared fund.
That will cover replacement ninja tools, medicine, and other consumable supplies.” “As for the remaining sixty percent,” Shuji continued, “I’ll take forty percent of that share, and the two of you will divide the rest equally.
Any objections?” Itachi nodded almost immediately.
There was no trace of disagreement on his young face.
Shuji was their captain and, more importantly, the strongest member of the three.
It was only natural for him to receive the largest individual share.
Besides, the team’s shared funds would probably be spent far more often on Anko and Itachi than on Shuji himself.
Their captain’s fighting style simply did not consume many ninja tools.
Anko, on the other hand, visibly relaxed.
A smile returned to her face.
“Well, if that’s how we’re doing it, then I won’t feel bad about today anymore!
Thanks, Captain!” Eventually, the three reached a crossroads where their routes home separated.
Holding her new equipment, Anko casually waved goodbye to the other two before disappearing into the stream of people heading toward the apartment district.
Shuji turned to Itachi.
“Want me to walk you to the entrance of the clan compound?” “There’s no need to trouble you, senpai.” Itachi held the indigo paper bag against himself and gave a small bow.
“All right.” Shuji said nothing more.
He turned and headed toward the western part of the village.
Itachi continued on alone, carrying the paper bag as he walked at an even, unhurried pace.
After turning a corner, the Uchiha compound’s distinctive high walls finally came into view in the distance, their silhouette looking especially solemn beneath the night sky.
Then, without warning, a clear, cheerful voice emerged from the deep shadow cast by an old tree beside the road.
“Itachi.
You’re back.” Itachi did not break stride.
He raised his head and looked toward the darkness.
“Shisui.” The shadows beneath the tree shifted.
A figure stepped forward without a sound, almost as though he had condensed out of the night itself, stopping at the edge of the dim yellow glow cast by a streetlamp.
Uchiha Shisui wore the clan’s dark-blue, high-collared clothing.
A short sword was strapped across his back, and his forehead protector sat neatly across his brow.
A warm smile rested naturally on his face as his gaze fell upon the paper bag in Itachi’s arms.
“How did team training go today?” Shisui fell into step beside Itachi, and the two naturally began walking shoulder to shoulder.
Still holding the bag, Itachi answered calmly, “Shuji-senpai is very strong.
After training, he treated Anko-senpai and me to sukiyaki.
He also bought us ninja equipment as a gift.” After a moment, he added, “Combat clothing.” “He sounds like a kind and generous senpai.” There was a hint of surprise in Shisui’s gentle voice.
“Generally speaking, a team captain has no obligation to buy equipment for the shinobi under him.” As one of Konoha’s elite jōnin, Shisui knew the village’s customs very well.
Replacing equipment was normally the individual shinobi’s responsibility, or the expense was covered by their clan.
Itachi knew that too.
His previous jōnin instructor had treated him well, but even that man had never looked after his subordinates quite the way Shuji did.
“Shuji-senpai is a very thoughtful and gentle person,” Itachi said softly, his eyes following the road beneath his feet.
Shisui turned his head toward him, his smile deepening.
“You like him a lot, don’t you, Itachi?” Itachi’s step faltered for barely half a second.
He seemed to seriously consider the question.
After a moment, he nodded.
His voice remained calm, but this time there was a quiet certainty behind it.
“Yes.
When I’m with Shuji-senpai…” He paused, searching for the right word.
“I feel…
relaxed.” There was none of the heaviness he felt during clan meetings, none of the constant tension of the training grounds, and none of the invisible pressure that always accompanied standing before his father.
With Shuji, he could simply sit down and eat without worry.
He could receive clear guidance.
And perhaps…
he could even look forward to an ordinary everyday life.
“Oh?
I see.” There was genuine relief in Shisui’s voice.
“Then that’s wonderful.
Finding teammates like that is a good thing.” His smile softened.
“I’d actually been thinking about asking Lord Hokage to let me become your captain.” Itachi did not respond.
He simply continued walking quietly beside Shisui.
For a time, only their soft footsteps and the faint chirping of insects in the distance could be heard.
Several breaths passed before Itachi spoke again.
This time, there was a trace of confusion in his voice, subtle enough that most people would have missed it.
“There’s just one thing…” He looked ahead.
“Shuji-senpai seems to have another identity.
Father is very concerned about it.” Then Itachi raised his head and looked at Shisui—the person who was both an older brother figure and a mentor to him.
There was a clear question in his eyes.
“Shisui…
is there some special clan in the village?” He paused.
“One whose members don’t have surnames?”