The following morning dawned with a sense of uncertainty, much like the previous day. Akaashi rose from his bed, the faint light seeping through the curtains casting a soft glow on his surroundings. He remained still for a moment, contemplating the reality he woke up to once again. The fact that he was still here, trapped in a foreign body, hadn't changed. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips, his hopes of waking up in his own world crushed yet again.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Akaashi placed his feet on the cool floor. He hesitated for a moment, deep in thought. He had come to understand the futility of resisting this new reality, realizing that acceptance might be his best course of action. The idea of being reincarnated seemed possible, but his skeptical nature always lingered. It was ironic, really, how he had yearned to be a ninja in his childhood dreams, only for those dreams to transform into a twisted nightmare in his present reality.
Standing up, Akaashi stretched his limbs as the morning light filtered into the room. He wandered over to the kitchen sink, splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up. The cold shock was a jolt to his system, snapping him out of the drowsiness that clung to him. He followed his usual morning routine, brushing his teeth and using the compact bathroom. These familiar actions grounded him, providing a sense of normalcy in the midst of chaos.
Turning his attention to the wardrobe, Akaashi selected his attire for the day. He settled on a blue shirt adorned with a peculiar yet intriguing symbol on the back. He paired it with black sweatpants, the chill in the air warranting the addition of a jacket. Memories of his mother's constant reminders to maintain cleanliness spurred him to tidy up the apartment, putting things in their rightful places.
Each task he completed seemed to steady his thoughts, providing a semblance of control over his situation. Cleaning offered a sense of order in the midst of uncertainty, a way to find balance amid the chaos that had become his life. Akaashi's mind then turned to the rumblings of hunger that grew within him. He took stock of the vegetables and provisions he had acquired the previous day and set to work on preparing breakfast.
Bell peppers, tomatoes, and a lone egg were brought together to create a simple yet nourishing meal. Akaashi chopped the vegetables with practiced ease, his movements growing more fluid as he acclimated to his new body. He heated up a pan and began cooking the ingredients, each sizzle and aroma soothing his senses. With each step, he felt more in tune with his current form, his mind gradually settling into a rhythm.
When the meal was ready, Akaashi placed the cooked food onto a plate. He carried it over to the table, which had previously been covered in scattered scrolls and papers. As he sat down, ready to indulge in his creation, a sudden knock echoed from the front door. Startled, Akaashi paused, his guard immediately going up. After his encounter with Mizuki, unexpected visitors warranted caution.
Setting the plate down, he got up from the chair and headed towards the door. He cursed the lack of a peephole, the inability to see who stood on the other side making him feel vulnerable. The knocking persisted, growing more urgent. Akaashi's hand rested on the doorknob, his breath steady as he prepared for whatever awaited on the other side.
He opened the door cautiously, revealing a young man of around 16 standing before him. Black hair, black eyes, and glasses framed his features. He wore a ninja uniform, similar to Akaashi's own attire. The visitor appeared irritated, and Akaashi braced himself for any possible confrontation. His thoughts raced, considering the reasons for this unexpected visit. Rent? A debt? He hoped it wasn't something absurd.
The black-haired visitor's gaze assessed Akaashi quickly, the annoyance on his face only deepening. "It seems like you recovered from THAT... well, at least better than the rest of us," he said with a hint of bitterness.
Akaashi's mind whirred, piecing together the context from his journal entries and his conversation with Mizuki. "THAT" was likely a recent event, one that they were still grappling with. It was clear that the young man before him was a comrade, a fellow shinobi. Akaashi contemplated his next move and then decided to invite the visitor into his apartment.
Opening the door wider, he gestured for the young man to come inside. "You eaten yet?" he inquired.
"I'm full, thanks," the visitor replied, stepping inside. Akaashi followed, closing the door behind them. The young man took a seat on the edge of the bed, his demeanor heavy with a sense of desolation. Akaashi grabbed a chair from the table and positioned it next to the bed, taking a seat with his plate of food in hand. The room lapsed into silence, the only sound being the occasional rustle of Akaashi's eating.
Minutes passed before Akaashi finished his meal. The silence was beginning to grow awkward, but he decided to break it. "By the way, what was your name again?" he asked casually, a piece of tomato still in his mouth.
The young man clenched his teeth, Akaashi sensing his tension. "Uh oh," Akaashi whispered to himself as he prepared for the potential backlash.
With a piercing glare, the young man's voice dripped with frustration. "Did you perhaps... forget her too?" he asked through gritted teeth.
The realization hit Akaashi, and he knew he needed to defuse the situation. "Of course not, I'm not that forgetful," he responded hastily, hoping to quell the anger brewing in the young man's eyes.
But before he could react, the young man moved with unnatural speed. In an instant, Akaashi found himself pressed against the wall, his chair and plate discarded to the side. The intensity in the young man's eyes was a mix of fury and grief. "Why... Why are you speaking so casually. Do you just not care about her death?!" he demanded, his voice quivering as tears welled up.
Akaashi felt the weight of the situation, the personal connection this young man had with the event that had unfolded. He struggled to find the right words, but it seemed that any response would only exacerbate the situation. Held against the wall, he remained silent, allowing the young man to vent his emotions.
Suddenly, the grip on Akaashi loosened, and he slid down to the floor as the young man collapsed in front of him, overcome with sobs. Akaashi remained still, realizing that his silence was the best response. He busied himself with cleaning up the mess and repositioning the chair. By the time he finished, the young man's sobs had subsided, leaving him in a state of melancholic contemplation.
Akaashi decided to initiate conversation, hoping to ease the tension in the room. "Hey, kid. Why did you become a shinobi?" he asked, maintaining his casual tone. The young man's gaze shifted towards Akaashi, confusion evident behind his glasses.
"W-What do you mean?" the young man responded, his voice cracked from crying.
"What's your ambition for becoming a ninja?" Akaashi repeated, his words unscripted, yet he trusted in his ability to navigate the conversation.
The young man's brow furrowed, uncertainty clouding his expression. "I... became a ninja because everybody said I'd be good at it. I was going to inherit my family restaurant as I grew up when I was a kid, but the people around me told me that I would be an excellent shinobi... So I—"
"Then you might as well hand over your headband," Akaashi interjected, prompting a puzzled "huh" from the young man.
"Being a shinobi isn't solely about skill. It encompasses other vital traits, like adaptability and mental fortitude. Every mission carries the risk of being your last, a fact that Natsumi understood when she made the ultimate sacrifice. We completed the mission in her honor, and she would be proud of it. If your only reason for being a ninja is skill, then perhaps it's time to return your headband and embrace your family restaurant," Akaashi explained, his words flowing with a conviction he hadn't anticipated.
His words seemed to resonate with the young shinobi. He rose to his feet, wiping away his tears. Determination ignited in his gaze. "The truth is... I've always idolized the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze. He was a hero, and I'm determined to follow in his footsteps."
Akaashi's lips curled into a satisfied smile. His plan had worked, and he had managed to uplift the young man's spirits and ignite his resolve. "Wow, quite the ambition. Just remember, idolizing someone is good, but strive to become even more than that. You can be a hero in your own right, but be proud of who you are and don't let a single obstacle define you. So, what's your name?"
The young man looked taken aback, a mixture of shock and excitement playing across his features. "My name is Ryo Akagami. And I'll become a great hero of the Hidden Leaf Village, just like the Fourth Hokage!" he declared, solidifying his newfound determination.
Akaashi's smile grew wider, content with the positive outcome of their conversation. Even in this dangerous world, even with the uncertainty that lay ahead, he realized that he could still make a difference.
"Thanks, Senpai. You really helped me out there. And I'm sorry for pinning you like that earlier," Ryo apologized, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
"No problem, kid. As long as you're feeling better," Akaashi replied, taking a bite of a raw tomato due to his lingering hunger.
"By the way, what was your ambition for becoming a ninja?" Ryo inquired, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
"Eh, doesn't matter. After all, I'm planning on quitting being a shinobi," Akaashi answered, only to find himself abruptly on the floor with a couple of bumps on his head as a result.