The workshop closed earlier than usual.
A supplier had sent word that the next shipment of lumber wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, leaving the afternoon unexpectedly free.
Daichi stretched until his back cracked.
“I almost forgot what free time feels like.”
Kamui looked up from putting away his tools.
“What do people normally do with it?”
“You’ve never gone fishing?”
Kamui shook his head.
“No.”
Daichi stopped.
“…Never?”
“I grew up around cities.”
“Then today’s your unlucky day.”
The river outside Konoha flowed lazily beneath the afternoon sun.
The banks were lined with tall grass that swayed whenever the breeze passed through.
Daichi handed Kamui a simple fishing rod.
“It’s easy.”
“I’ve heard people say that before.”
“It really is.”
Kamui accepted the rod with all the confidence of someone who had no idea what he was doing.
“I’ll master it in an hour.”
Daichi laughed.
“I want you to remember you said that.”
An hour later…
Nothing.
Kamui stared at the motionless float.
“It doesn’t like me.”
“The fish?”
“The river.”
Daichi reeled in another small trout.
“I don’t think rivers have opinions.”
“This one does.”
He pointed accusingly at the water.
“It’s judging me.”
Daichi couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“You’ve been talking to it for ten minutes.”
“I’m trying diplomacy.”
“Try bait.”
“I did.”
“Properly.”
“…There’s a proper way?”
Daichi rubbed a hand over his face.
“I should’ve known.”
Another twenty minutes passed.
Still nothing.
A boy no older than eight walked past carrying a bucket with three fish inside.
He looked at Kamui’s empty bucket.
“…Bad day?”
Kamui nodded solemnly.
“I’m negotiating.”
The boy frowned.
“With the fish?”
“They’re stubborn.”
“My grandpa says fish don’t understand words.”
Kamui sighed.
“I was beginning to suspect that.”
The boy grinned and continued home.
Daichi laughed so hard he almost dropped his own catch.
Late in the afternoon, Kamui finally felt a tug.
His eyes lit up.
“I got one!”
“There you go!”
Daichi called.
“Take it slow.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You said that about fishing.”
Kamui ignored him and pulled.
The rod bent sharply.
The line tightened.
For one glorious second…
Victory seemed certain.
Then the line snapped.
The hook flew backward.
Kamui stumbled and landed flat on his back in the grass.
Silence.
Daichi walked over, looking down at him.
“…You alright?”
Kamui stared at the sky.
“I believe…”
“…the fish won.”
Daichi sat beside him.
“I think it did.”
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The river kept flowing.
Dragonflies skimmed over the water.
Somewhere farther downstream, children shouted excitedly.
Kamui let out a quiet laugh.
“I haven’t been this thoroughly defeated in years.”
Daichi smiled.
“Feels bad?”
“No.”
Kamui turned his head toward the river.
“It means I can get better.”
On the opposite bank, an old man had been fishing alone since before they arrived.
He had watched the whole scene without saying a word.
As the sun began to set, he gathered his things and walked over.
Without introducing himself, he held out a small wooden float.
“Yours is cracked.”
Kamui looked at it.
“I didn’t even notice.”
“I know.”
The old man placed the new float in his hand.
“Fish notice.”
Kamui smiled sheepishly.
“I’ll pay you.”
The old man waved the idea away.
“Catch one first.”
Then he continued down the path until he disappeared among the trees.
Kamui turned the float over in his fingers.
“Nice man.”
Daichi nodded.
“He’s been fishing this river longer than I’ve been alive.”
“You know him?”
“No.”
Kamui looked surprised.
“You don’t need to know someone’s name to know they’re decent.”
The words lingered between them.
After a moment, Kamui slipped the float carefully into his pocket.
“I’ll bring this back someday.”
Daichi glanced at him.
“You think you’ll see him again?”
Kamui looked toward the quiet river.
“If I keep coming…”
“…probably.”
They walked back to Konoha carrying one bucket.
It belonged to Daichi.
Kamui’s remained empty.
As they reached the village gates, Daichi looked sideways.
“You know…”
“You could’ve said today was a waste.”
Kamui laughed.
“I learned three things.”
“Oh?”
“Fish ignore motivational speeches.”
Daichi nodded.
“True.”
“The river doesn’t care how confident I am.”
“Also true.”
Kamui smiled.
“And…”
He looked back toward the fading light over the river.
“…there are still things in this world I’m completely terrible at.”
Daichi waited.
“That’s…
strangely comforting.”
That night, while locking the workshop, the old carpenter noticed Kamui carefully placing the borrowed fishing rod against the wall instead of leaving it outside.
“You planning to go again?”
Kamui looked up.
“Next week.”
“You didn’t catch anything.”
“I know.”
The old man gave a slow nod.
“Good.”
He disappeared inside before Kamui could ask what he meant.
Kamui stood alone for another moment.
Then he smiled to himself.
“Next week,” he repeated quietly.