“Cough, cough, cough…” A sudden, violent fit of coughing startled the three children sitting around the campfire.
Turning their heads, they saw that the shinobi who had been unconscious this whole time had finally regained a sliver of consciousness and opened his eyes.
“You…” the middle-aged ninja wheezed, weakly lifting a finger as if trying to say something.
But his throat was so parched it felt like it was on fire, leaving him completely unable to speak another word.
Seeing his miserable state, Yahiko thoughtfully brought over a waterskin and held it to his lips.
“Hah…
hah…” The ninja clutched the waterskin but didn’t drink right away.
After taking a few ragged breaths, he finally managed to string together a complete sentence.
“You brats…
who are you?” Looking at his vigilant expression, it seemed as though if Yahiko’s answer was even slightly suspicious, the shinobi was prepared to violently strike at them despite his crippled condition.
Yahiko had no intention of hiding anything and answered honestly, “Lord Ninja, we aren’t shinobi.
We’re just…
a group of homeless war orphans.” Hearing this, the middle-aged ninja swept his gaze over them.
Their clothes were ragged, and their raincoats were patched over and over again—there was essentially nowhere to hide any weapons.
Their stances were completely loose and open, exposing all their vital spots.
They definitely didn’t look like they had undergone any form of military training.
The ninja let out a long exhale, the high-strung vigilance in his heart relaxing just a fraction.
He muttered under his breath, “So they’re just a bunch of street rats~” His tone softened considerably as he asked, “Does that mean you were the ones who bandaged me up?
Your technique isn’t bad, but why didn’t you apply any medical salve?” Although he rarely engaged in direct combat these days, he was still a shinobi through and through.
He possessed an acute awareness of his own physical condition.
The sharp throbbing radiating from his wounds was crystal clear.
With even the slightest movement, he could feel the torn flesh pulling beneath the bandages.
This kind of crude first aid couldn’t be called entirely useless.
But objectively speaking, it only barely pulled him back from the brink of death.
It would do absolutely nothing to accelerate the healing process; his recovery would rely almost entirely on his own vitality.
Yahiko looked troubled.
“I’m sorry…
we don’t have any medicine to treat your wounds…” The middle-aged ninja fell silent.
It seemed his expectation really was far too demanding for a bunch of destitute street urchins.
He was just about to speak when he saw the little blue-haired girl timidly step forward, offering him a bouquet of paper flowers.
“For me?” the ninja asked, genuinely taken aback.
In all his years of life…
he had received money, he had received weapons, and he had received women.
But he had never, ever received something like this.
Konan nodded shyly.
Lowering her head, she whispered, “Mom used to say…
that when you’re feeling pain, looking at beautiful flowers will make you feel a lot better.” “Heh…” The ninja was a bit speechless, thinking to himself that such absolute nonsense could only fool naive brats like them.
What did flowers have to do with pain relief?
Let alone healing a physical injury, they couldn’t even provide the most basic psychological placebo effect.
Not to mention the fact that these were fake flowers folded out of cheap paper.
But after a second thought, he swallowed his cynical words and instead forced a weak smile.
“You’ve got pretty nimble hands, little girl…” He placed the paper flowers by his makeshift pillow and formally introduced himself.
“You don’t have to keep calling me ‘Lord Ninja.’ My name is…
Taiga Takenaka.
You kids can just call me Taiga-senpai!” The ninja’s eyes flickered slightly as he spoke.
But the lighting in the ruined building was incredibly dim, and the dancing flames of the campfire cast wild, chaotic shadows across the walls.
Naturally, none of the three children noticed the subtle, treacherous glint in his eyes.
“Taiga-senpai!” the three children echoed in unison.
Even the usually withdrawn and silent Nagato chimed in.
Yahiko felt a surge of joy in his heart.
The fact that this man was willing to share his name meant their relationship was taking a positive step forward.
He eagerly pulled his two friends forward.
“Taiga-senpai, this is Konan, and this is Nagato.” Finally, he pointed to himself.
“And my name is Yahiko.” Taiga Takenaka gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, muttering, “Yahiko?
That’s a good name.” He eased his body back, leaning half of his weight against the crumbling wall, and looked at the trio directly.
“Yahiko, Konan, Nagato.
The three of you saved my life.
By all rights, I should repay you for this debt.” Yahiko opened his mouth to speak, but Taiga raised a hand, signaling for him to listen first.
“But as you can clearly see, my body is in terrible condition…” The ninja let out a helpless, bitter smile.
“Even if I have the desire to reward you right now, I completely lack the physical strength to do so.” “I am truly sorry!” he said, bowing his head deeply, his tone dripping with profound guilt.
The three children fell silent.
Nagato just stared blankly while hugging his little dog.
His parents had been murdered by Konoha shinobi, so he inherently harbored a subconscious aversion to all ninja.
Konan felt that the man’s words made logical sense, yet her intuition told her something felt vaguely off.
As the de-facto leader and big brother of the group, Yahiko had no choice but to step forward and speak on their behalf.
In truth, the boy desperately wanted to say that they didn’t desire wealth or food—all they wanted was for the man to teach them how to extract and mold chakra.
But having grown up fighting for scraps in the ruthless gutters of the Land of Rain, Yahiko was remarkably perceptive.
He clearly read the hidden condition lurking beneath the ninja’s words.
No matter what you brats want from me, you need to make sure I recover first!
“Taiga-senpai,” the orange-haired Yahiko said earnestly.
“I will figure out a way to help you heal your wounds.
But…
please also try to understand our difficulties…” The core of any negotiation wasn’t just about profit and loss; it was about establishing boundaries and not surrendering one’s bottom line.
While Yahiko could be naive at times and genuinely wanted to believe in the inherent goodness of people, he wasn’t a total idiot.
He wasn’t just going to blindly agree to whatever this stranger demanded without a guarantee.
Taiga Takenaka shot him a deep, penetrating look before breaking into a wide smile.
“Of course.
Once my body recovers a bit, I promise I will do everything in my power to help you kids.” Just like that, a tacit, unspoken transaction was struck between them.
“In that case, we’ll head out to find some real food first,” Yahiko nodded, his expression serious.
“I’m sure you probably wouldn’t have much of an appetite for our expired, moldy ration biscuits anyway.” The boy had actually caught a subtle detail earlier.
When the ninja was drinking water, his eyes had briefly darted toward their meager food pile by the fire.
But likely because the stale, rock-hard biscuits looked so unappetizing, his gaze quickly moved away.
Despite having his thoughts read so easily by a child, Taiga Takenaka didn’t show the slightest hint of embarrassment, keeping his expression perfectly nonchalant.
“Then I’ll have to trouble you, Yahiko.
Sigh…
I can only blame my own body for being so useless right now.” Ignoring the man’s hollow pleasantries, Yahiko turned his head and delegated the tasks.
“Nagato, you come outside with me.
Leave Chibi here to keep Konan company.” Yahiko had his own careful reasoning for making this arrangement.
Nagato was extremely introverted—you couldn’t pry a single word out of him even if you beat him with a stick.
Factor in that his parents were murdered by shinobi, and it made him completely unsuitable to be left alone with one.
As for Konan…
even though she was a girl, Yahiko had known her the longest.
He knew she was incredibly perceptive, meticulous, and sharp-minded.
He felt relatively safe leaving her in charge.
By leaving the little dog, Chibi, with her, it would provide an extra layer of security.
Beyond that, there was nothing more Yahiko could do.
After all, the town outside was still engulfed in chaos.
Between scavenging the war-torn streets and staying behind with an injured ninja, it was impossible to say which was actually more dangerous…