Tōji walked back along the riverbank, then cut through Konoha's main street.
At a reasonably reputable shinobi tool shop—the owner's wife even wore a qipao!—he bought some kunai and shuriken.
Then he headed over near the Hokage Tower and registered a purchase of Exploding Tags at one of the officially licensed shops.
During this period, Exploding Tags were a critical wartime supply. Only registered Konoha shinobi could buy them, and only in small quantities. Normally, a small purchase like this wouldn't raise any flags—it helped prevent shady merchants from hoarding illegally, and kept enemy forces from disrupting the village's supply lines.
After getting his Exploding Tags, Tōji went straight home.
He didn't need to buy Soldier Pills—that was usually the jōnin instructor's job. The instructor could get them from the village for free, and when deemed necessary, hand them out to squad members—one per person, max.
For new genin, Soldier Pills were also a luxury consumable!
Really, Tōji only went home to let the elderly neighbors—a few clan relatives—pass along word to his parents. His folks would definitely be at work this time of day.
So there wasn't much reason to hang around. He quickly packed a few changes of clothes, made an early lunch for himself, and ate.
After the meal, he shouldered his small pack, strapped on his ninja tool pouch, locked up the house, and strolled leisurely toward the meeting point.
Even though this era of Konoha was plagued by constant wars beyond the village walls, the village itself was peaceful and scenic enough—and that was something Tōji genuinely appreciated.
Years of war had bred some resentment among the populace toward the village administration, but it hadn't yet reached a breaking point. All around, the village still radiated a tranquil, idyllic atmosphere.
Tōji wasn't socially anxious, but he wasn't fond of socializing either. Even when walking, he preferred the less-traveled paths.
After days of rain, the first clear day turned out to be a blazing sun overhead.
Tōji trod on the short, dense grass of the riverbank, taking his time, unbothered by the harsh sun. He even found himself quietly listening to the rustle of leaves in the wind—it was surprisingly therapeutic.
He was just a few steps from the meeting point. No sign of his teammates yet.
"Tools of the war era—graduate and it's straight to a C-rank. And if you run into an enemy shinobi, that bumps it up to B-rank, maybe even A-rank…" He'd barely muttered that to himself when—
"Tōji-kun! You're early!" Tōji was about to sit down and zone out, when Natchi's voice came from the treeline by the riverbank.
Natchi was usually a cheerful, goofy sort—but if you paid attention, you'd notice he didn't actually talk much.
"Tōji-kun, you're early too! Since we're squadmates from now on, I look forward to working with you." As he spoke, Tōji's gaze was unconsciously drawn to Natchi's yellow-green eyes.
They had the same vertical slit pupils as a cat's—one of the Izuno clan's distinguishing traits.
Since they both had time to kill, Tōji didn't mind building some rapport with his teammate and chatting a bit.
At least the Izuno clan had a hereditary secret technique—and it wasn't half bad. Natchi probably had some potential too.
"Hehe, same to you—let's look out for each other!" Natchi's social skills were clearly lacking—he didn't know how to steer a conversation.
"Just graduating and already on a C-rank mission—I'm a little nervous, honestly. You don't seem nervous at all, Natchi-kun." Tōji tossed out a topic that could keep the conversation going.
"I am nervous, just not great at showing it, hehehe. Oh, Tōji—how about we just call each other by first names? Feels a bit formal like this." Natchi grinned goofily.
He didn't even seem to know where to put his hands—one went to his hip, the other rubbed the back of his head.
Seemed like he wasn't naturally quiet—just bad at small talk.