The tragic Second Shinobi World War had ended a year and a half ago, and the villagers had long since completely stepped out from the dark clouds of war.
Although night had fallen, the East Alley of Konoha Village remained exceptionally bustling.
Hundreds of lanterns shone brightly, the crowds bustled, and sounds of laughter rose and fell.
In the streets, there were people setting up stalls to hawk their wares, gathering around to play chess, and even performing acrobatics.
A non-ninja young man in his twenties with a small mustache held a thin bamboo pole in each hand.
He continuously spun two porcelain plates on top of them, occasionally even tossing them high into the air to swap their positions.
The onlookers cheered, “Bravo!”
The mustached man grinned…
Crash!
Smash!
The two plates shattered into pieces.
The crowd was stunned for a moment before bursting into roaring laughter.
Those who knew the mustached man even teased him a bit.
Helpless, the man pointed in a certain direction, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Is that…
the blacksmith’s kid?”
“How did he get so hurt?”
“And who is that on his back…”
Under everyone’s gaze, Kaito walked over with great difficulty, carrying Hizashi Hyuga on his back.
At this moment, Kaito’s clothes were torn and covered in dust.
There was a bruise right in the middle of his forehead, and his exposed wrists and ankles were covered in scratches, with faint traces of blood visible.
He looked absolutely miserable.
On the other hand, the unconscious Hizashi Hyuga on his back didn’t look like he had suffered much, though his expression was slightly contorted.
If they weren’t two kids, this duo would look exactly like wounded soldiers returning to the village during wartime—one with severe superficial injuries but actually fine, carrying another with severe internal injuries back for recovery.
A middle-aged man stepped forward.
“Blacksmith’s kid, who beat you up like this?”
Kaito paused his steps and offered a foolish smile.
“We were just sparring as classmates.
It’s nothing.
These are just minor scratches for a ninja!”
“You kids should wait until you graduate before calling yourselves ninjas,” someone joked.
“That kid on your back is from the Hyuga clan, right?
Did you knock him out?
Is he badly hurt?”
“Nothing like that.” Kaito shook his head.
“He’s not hurt at all.
He was just tired and sleepy, so he asked me to carry him home.
Anyway, thank you for your concern, uncles and aunts.
I’m heading to the Hyuga compound now.”
The person who asked the question was taken aback.
He exchanged glances with the others, a trace of dissatisfaction quietly creeping onto their faces.
It was the principle of resenting inequality rather than scarcity.
Kaito was covered in injuries, while Hizashi Hyuga had merely fallen asleep from exhaustion, yet he still made the injured Kaito carry him home.
It sounded completely unreasonable.
This was especially true since one side was a commoner child from their own ranks, and the other was a child from the Hyuga clan, one of Konoha’s leading noble families.
It only added fuel to the fire.
However, even with their underlying dissatisfaction, no one ultimately offered to seek justice for Kaito.
The status of the great clans was deeply rooted.
A few people simply offered to help Kaito carry Hizashi back, but Kaito declined.
Just like that, he continued along the bustling East Alley of Konoha Village until he reached the front of the Hyuga clan compound.
The Hyuga compound was massive and imposing.
As one of the oldest clans, the Hyuga had rather rigid rules.
Few clan members wandered outside at night, so even though it was only past seven o’clock, the main gates of the compound were already tightly shut.
But before Kaito even had to knock, someone appeared in front of him with a *swish*.
The newcomer was around thirty years old, possessing the signature pale, pupil-less eyes of the clan.
His forehead protector was worn relatively low, and his facial features bore a sixty percent resemblance to Hizashi Hyuga.
Without waiting for Kaito to speak, he immediately activated his Byakugan, scanning Kaito and Hizashi for a moment before quickly breathing a sigh of relief.
*’Pervert, actually using x-ray vision on me right to my face!*
*So this is Hizashi Hyuga’s father?
If I don’t handle this well, the old one will step in to avenge the young one, and I’ll be the one getting beaten up.
He’s likely a Chunin, with a small chance of being a Jonin.
Either way, I definitely can’t beat him.
Stay calm, stay calm.
I’ll let the x-ray vision slide for now.’*
After muttering a few words in his heart, Kaito greeted him, “Hello, sir.
Are you Hizashi’s…”
“Father,” the man replied.
Kaito almost instinctively responded with a ‘Yes’.
Fortunately, he held back.
Damn it, what a trap!
“What happened to you two?”
Kaito forced a smile and brought out his prepared excuse.
“Don’t worry, sir.
Hizashi and I agreed to have a combat sparring session at school.
He just got tired from training and fell asleep, so I brought him back to you.”
Hizashi Hyuga’s father frowned slightly, sensing that Kaito’s words weren’t entirely truthful.
Under his Byakugan’s observation, aside from a slight bruise on his chest, Hizashi had no injuries.
There was only some minor muscle damage in his arms, completely consistent with the strain of overly intense training.
Looking back at Kaito, he had far more injuries.
They weren’t from punches or kicks, but mostly bumps and scrapes, not the kind of wounds Hizashi Hyuga would inflict.
“Where did you spar?”
“In the woods over there.”
That made sense.
Hizashi Hyuga’s father nodded slightly, but his face soon darkened.
An image of Kaito constantly rolling and crashing into trees under Hizashi Hyuga’s attacks formed in his mind.
Combat sparring?
A Hyuga child needs to find someone to spar in Taijutsu?
I’ve never even heard of this kid in front of me, and looking at his miserable state, he’s no genius either.
Is this sparring?
This is bullying!
What a disgrace to the family.
He stepped forward, took Hizashi Hyuga, and tossed him over his shoulder with a simple and rough motion.
Then he looked at Kaito, hesitating for a few seconds before saying, “Thank you for your trouble.
What is your name?”
“Kaito.”
“Kaito, Kaito…
the blacksmith’s boy?”
Uncle Takumi is quite famous, it seems.
Kaito nodded.
Hizashi Hyuga’s father’s face darkened even further.
Hizashi might not know, but he was well aware.
An artisan-class Chunin, despite not having the Hyuga surname and being a commoner, held a weight that wasn’t necessarily much lower than his own in the eyes of the Hyuga clan.
He struggled internally for a moment, then surprisingly pulled a banknote from his pocket and handed it to Kaito.
“Thank you for your trouble.”
The second ‘thank you’ was actually an apology.
Kaito was stunned for a moment, hesitating before taking the banknote.
“It’s nothing.
Thank you, sir.
I’ll be heading home now?”
“…Yeah.” Hizashi Hyuga’s father hesitated, seemingly wanting to say something else, but ultimately just waved his hand and vanished with a *swish*, carrying Hizashi on his shoulder.
*’Jumping over the wall to return to his own clan,’* Kaito grumbled inwardly.
He looked at the banknote in his hand.
The amount was one thousand ryo.
*’Oh, quite generous.
Such a reasonable parent actually makes me feel a tiny bit ashamed.’*
The currency in the ninja world was such that one ryo was roughly equal to ten yen.
This meant the purchasing power of this banknote was equivalent to nearly a hundred bucks.
Bandaging his wounds wouldn’t cost nearly this much.
But thinking about it, one thousand ryo probably wasn’t much to the other party.
Ninjas were a high-income group.
For a D-rank mission, even when the income was split evenly among a squad, each person could still get nearly a thousand ryo.
In a little over a decade, the head of his classmate Asuma would be worth thirty million ryo.
Suddenly, he felt like he was sitting on a gold mine…
*’The plan is half successful.
The rest depends on whether Hizashi Hyuga is thin-skinned enough.
Whether it works out or not, this one thousand ryo makes the whole ordeal worth the price of admission.’* Kaito adjusted his bangs.
*’Time to head home.