The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread.
Kamui slowed his steps.
“…That should be illegal.”
He looked toward the bakery.
Hana stood behind the counter, placing warm loaves onto a wooden shelf.
She spotted him through the window.
“Kamui!”
He stepped inside.
“I was just passing by.”
“Liar.”
“…A convincing one?”
“The bread betrayed you.”
Kamui looked at the steaming loaves.
“…It always does.”
Hana laughed and handed him a small roll.
“Try it.”
He accepted it carefully.
“Shouldn’t I pay first?”
“You’ve been helping my husband all week.”
“I get paid.”
“This one is from me.”
Kamui hesitated only a moment before taking a bite.
His eyes widened.
“…Daichi married well.”
Hana folded her arms with mock pride.
“I know.”
“I should tell him.”
“He already knows.”
Outside the bakery, Kamui continued toward the workshop with the bread in one hand.
Halfway there, he noticed a little boy struggling to carry a bucket nearly as big as he was.
Water splashed with every step.
The boy stubbornly refused to stop.
Kamui crouched beside him.
“Need a hand?”
The boy shook his head immediately.
“I can do it.”
Kamui nodded.
“Looks that way.”
The boy blinked.
“…Really?”
“You’re still carrying it.”
The child looked down at the bucket.
Water was sloshing everywhere.
“My arms hurt.”
“I bet.”
Kamui stood.
“How far?”
“My house.”
He pointed toward the next street.
Kamui smiled.
“Mind if I walk with you?”
The boy frowned.
“You won’t carry it?”
“No.”
“…Why not?”
“Because you said you could.”
The boy looked uncertain.
“…What if I drop it?”
Kamui shrugged.
“Then we’ll pick it back up.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him.
They walked together.
The boy stopped three times to rest.
Each time Kamui simply waited.
No teasing.
No rushing.
When they finally reached the house, the boy’s mother hurried outside.
“Oh!”
“You didn’t have to help him.”
Kamui smiled.
“I didn’t.”
The little boy proudly raised the bucket.
“I did it!”
His mother looked between the two of them.
Then smiled.
“…Yes.”
“You did.”
As Kamui walked away, he heard the boy whisper,
“Mom…”
“…I’m stronger than yesterday.”
Kamui couldn’t help smiling.
The workshop was unusually busy.
Orders had piled up over the last few days.
The old carpenter tossed a measuring stick toward Kamui.
“Think less.”
“Work more.”
Kamui caught it.
“I was thinking about working.”
“Now you’re wasting time twice.”
Daichi laughed so hard he almost measured the wrong board.
The afternoon passed in a blur of sawdust and hammering.
By the time the last customer left, everyone was exhausted.
Kamui stretched.
“I’ve discovered something.”
Daichi looked up.
“What’s that?”
“My shoulders exist.”
“They always have.”
“I’ve only started noticing.”
The old carpenter nodded once.
“Good.”
“It means you’re working.”
On the other side of the village…
Kakashi Hatake walked through the market with his usual lazy pace.
A small paper bag hung from one hand.
His visible eye wandered over the busy street.
Routine.
Nothing unusual.
Then—
“Morning, Kamui!”
A vegetable seller waved enthusiastically.
A young man waved back without stopping.
“Morning!”
A little farther—
“Kamui!”
“Tell Genzo the table’s perfect!”
“I will!”
Another few steps—
A pair of children ran past him.
“Hi, Kamui!”
He waved.
“Don’t trip!”
“…We’ll try!”
Kakashi slowed slightly.
Interesting.
The young man wasn’t dressed like a shinobi.
Nor did he move like one.
Just…
An ordinary worker.
Yet people greeted him everywhere.
Not loudly.
Not because he was famous.
Simply…
Like he belonged.
Kakashi watched him disappear around the corner.
“…Curious.”
That was all he said.
Then he continued shopping.
Late that afternoon…
Kamui finished sweeping the workshop.
The old carpenter looked around the spotless floor.
“Hm.”
Kamui waited.
“…Still nothing?”
The old man looked at him.
“What?”
“I’ve been here almost two weeks.”
“And?”
“You’ve complained every day.”
“I have.”
“So today?”
The old carpenter looked around once more.
Finally…
“No complaints.”
Kamui gasped dramatically.
Daichi nearly dropped his hammer.
His father immediately frowned.
“Don’t get used to it.”
Kamui placed both hands on the workbench.
“I need to sit down.”
“Why?”
“I’m overwhelmed.”
The old carpenter walked past him toward the door.
“I’ll find something tomorrow.”
“I knew it.”
That night…
The lights of Konoha glowed softly beneath the stars.
Kamui sat outside the workshop, absentmindedly carving a small piece of scrap wood.
Not furniture.
Just…
Whatever his hands felt like making.
After several minutes, it began to resemble a tiny fox.
One ear was too big.
The tail looked strange.
Kamui held it at arm’s length.
“…You’re a terrible fox.”
He smiled anyway.
The old carpenter stepped outside carrying a lantern.
He glanced at the carving.
“…Ugly.”
Kamui nodded.
“I know.”
“…Don’t throw it away.”
Kamui looked up.
The old man had already turned back inside.
He stared at the little wooden fox again.
Then smiled.
“…I wasn’t planning to.”
The carving disappeared into his pocket..