The first thing Kamui learned about Konoha was that finding a roof over his head cost more than he had expected.
The second thing he learned was that carrying a backpack around all day made people assume he was either a traveler or unemployed.
Both assumptions were correct.
He stood outside a modest inn, staring at the small wooden board hanging beside the entrance.
No Vacancy.
“…Well.”
He scratched the back of his head.
“That solves the problem of choosing.”
Turning around, he walked back into the street.
The morning market was beginning to come alive.
Vendors rolled open shutters, the smell of fresh bread drifted through the air, and shopkeepers swept the dust from yesterday off their doorsteps.
It felt…
Normal.
That word surprised him.
This wasn’t the village preparing for the Chunin Exams.
This wasn’t the village under Pain’s shadow.
This wasn’t the village fighting Madara.
It was simply home to thousands of people trying to earn enough money to eat.
Kamui smiled.
“…I like this version better.”
His stomach growled loudly.
“…After breakfast.”
It growled again.
“…Fine.
Breakfast first.”
Unfortunately, breakfast required money.
Money required work.
Work required someone willing to hire a complete stranger.
That part proved harder than expected.
Three shops politely turned him away.
One blacksmith looked him up and down before saying, “Come back after you’ve grown another pair of arms.”
Kamui thanked him anyway.
By midday, the coins in his pocket were exactly the same as when the day began.
“…This is going great.”
He laughed at himself.
“You’ve survived being thrown into another world…”
“And you’re about to lose to unemployment.”
“Pathetic.”
As if the world had decided he’d complained enough, a sharp voice echoed from across the street.
“You there!”
Kamui turned.
An elderly man with broad shoulders and a grey beard was glaring at him from the back of a wagon piled high with timber.
“You look healthy.”
Kamui blinked.
“…Thank you?”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
The old man pointed at the stacks of lumber.
“Can you lift?”
Kamui looked at the wagon.
Then at the old man.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“How embarrassing it’ll be if I can’t.”
For a heartbeat, the old man simply stared.
Then he barked out a laugh.
“Get over here.”
The carpenter’s workshop smelled of fresh cedar.
Planks leaned against the walls, half-finished furniture covered one corner, and the steady rhythm of hammering echoed from deeper inside the building.
Kamui spent the next several hours carrying lumber from the yard into storage.
It wasn’t glamorous.
It wasn’t exciting.
It was exhausting.
His shoulders burned.
His palms ached.
Sweat soaked through the back of his shirt.
He hadn’t done this kind of labor since…
He stopped the thought before it finished.
That was another life.
This one had only just begun.
“Boy!”
The old carpenter tossed him a flask of water.
“You planning on collapsing?”
Kamui caught it with both hands.
“I was thinking about it.”
“Do it after you finish.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s practical.”
Kamui laughed.
“I like practical.”
The old man snorted and walked away.
By late afternoon, another worker struggled to carry an enormous beam by himself.
Kamui noticed him wobbling.
Without saying a word, he walked over, grabbed the other end, and lifted.
The younger worker looked startled.
“I didn’t ask for help.”
“You also looked one step away from dropping it on your foot.”
“…Fair.”
Together they carried it into the workshop.
When they finished, the younger man wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Thanks.”
Kamui shrugged.
“Tomorrow you might be the one helping me.”
The man looked at him for a moment before smiling.
“…Name’s Daichi.”
“Kamui.”
They shook hands.
Nothing more needed to be said.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the old carpenter counted several coins into Kamui’s hand.
“You worked hard.”
Kamui bowed his head slightly.
“Thank you.”
The old man noticed Kamui looking toward the street instead of leaving.
“…You got somewhere to sleep?”
Kamui smiled awkwardly.
“I’m currently negotiating with fate.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…”
Kamui rubbed the back of his neck.
“I have absolutely nowhere to go.”
The old carpenter sighed the long sigh of a man who had seen too many stubborn young fools.
“Daichi.”
“Yeah?”
“Show him the storage room.”
Daichi blinked.
“The one behind the workshop?”
“The roof doesn’t leak anymore.”
“…Mostly.”
Kamui raised a hand.
“I can pay rent.”
“You can start paying rent after you stop looking like someone who’d apologize to a tree for sleeping under it.”
Kamui laughed so suddenly that even the old carpenter looked surprised.
“You know…”
Kamui said with a grin,
“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
The old man rolled his eyes.
“Don’t get sentimental.”
“No promises.”
The storage room wasn’t much.
A narrow space with a single window.
A rolled-up futon.
A wooden shelf.
A cracked washbasin.
To anyone else, it would have looked disappointingly small.
To Kamui…
It looked like a beginning.
He set down his backpack and sat quietly on the floor.
For the first time since arriving in this world…
He was alone.
The laughter faded.
The grin relaxed.
He looked at his hands.
“…I’m really here.”
Outside, someone laughed in the workshop.
A hammer struck wood.
A dog barked somewhere down the street.
Ordinary sounds.
Living sounds.
Kamui leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“…One step at a time.”
Tomorrow he’d work again.
Maybe save enough for proper clothes.
Maybe learn the village.
Maybe make a fool of himself.
That was fine.
He wasn’t here to become a legend overnight.
Legends…
Were built one ordinary day at a time.