Tōji didn't need to report to anyone, so he took his parents straight home to catch up properly.
"Tōji!" Izuno Natchi pushed through the crowd and called out to him.
"Didn't expect you to come meet me too, Natchi." Tōji turned around and exchanged a few words with him. "You look like you've been doing well since you got back—your complexion's way better."
"You'll be eating better soon too, hehe." Natchi chuckled, then glanced at Tōji's parents. "You should head home with your family first. We'll catch up another day."
"Alright! I'm off then." Tōji was genuinely happy—this was comrade-in-arms bonding.
"Is that your teammate, Tōji?" his father asked as they walked home.
"Yeah. His name's Izuno Natchi. Seems like a decent guy. He's my teammate. But… the other two died in action…" Tōji started off smiling, but the smile faded.
"Then… let's figure out what's for dinner tonight! Dad's cooking tonight—celebrating Tōji's first mission complete." His mother was surprisingly upbeat.
"I'm cooking again tonight?" Tōji's father loved to cook, but hated washing vegetables and doing dishes. "Alright, Tōji, you're my assistant!"
"Ohhh~"
…
The sky over Konoha really did feel high and wide—never oppressive.
Before going to Kikyōyama, Tōji had never noticed that.
It was already November. A lot of Konoha shinobi were fighting Iwa-nin near the Land of Grass, but the village itself remained peaceful… whether that peace was real or just an illusion was hard to tell.
Maybe those who'd lost loved ones were grieving, but Tōji had never actually witnessed those scenes in the village.
Yawara Raicho and Rai Akane… he wondered how the village had handled their deaths.
Perhaps, aside from a few heroes who got special treatment, most fallen shinobi were just nameless heroes. Even the ones whose names were carved on the Memorial Stone—anyone seeing the name wouldn't know who they were or what they'd done.
Only a few remembered the heroes, and those few only remembered a handful of them.
Konoha had long summers and short autumns and winters—cold seasons were rare. Year-round, different varieties of green plants dotted the landscape. It was easy to believe that Konoha was eternal and undefeated.
At this time of year, ordinary folks like Tōji's parents were already wearing thick clothes, but Tōji still wore only two thin layers.
He could feel the cold—he just wasn't afraid of it.
Tōji felt that he himself was already cold-hearted enough, but most villagers weren't much better off. Was it the environment? Because the Third Hokage, while playing the good guy, was also indulging the darker sides of human nature?
Whatever. Big shots weren't for small fry to judge.
Back home, Tōji helped his father prepare a rather hearty dinner.
After a big meal, Tōji did the dishes, then took his time organizing his things—including his ninja tool pouch.
On the whole mission, he'd used up some shuriken, but he'd retrieved most of the undamaged ones—so no real loss. His two expensive Exploding Tags were still there.
Income: six thousand ryō! Enough to cover the cost of two Exploding Tags.
After sorting out his gear, he started thinking about the feasibility of transferring to Konoha Hospital's medical corps or even the veterinary unit.
He really didn't want to go back to the battlefield.
This Third Great Ninja War would probably end in about a year. But right after that, there'd be another small-scale war with Kumogakure…
Staying in the hospital would be a steady job in Konoha, wouldn't it? Would his parents agree?
But his parents, being native to Konoha, didn't seem to mind the possibility of their son dying as a shinobi…
Was that brainwashing? That so-called "Will of Fire"…