After meeting up with Yamada Kimura, Arata invited both Kimura and Honya Taiko to a barbecue restaurant.
Now that he was a chūnin, his future was fundamentally different.
Chūnin were allowed to lead squads on missions up to B-rank, which was already considered high-level work during peacetime.
If a jōnin accompanied the team, even A-rank or S-rank missions were possible—but in those cases, the jōnin would be in command, with the chūnin acting in a supporting role.
This time, Arata was uncharacteristically generous.
Not because he was showing off—but because, realistically speaking, he wouldn't have to worry about money anymore.
A single B-rank mission paid anywhere between 80,000 and 200,000 ryō.
After the village took its share, the remaining reward was split among the team.
Even at the lowest payout, Arata could earn more from one mission than his entire yearly living expenses from before.
Of course, most ninja didn't actually live comfortably.
Mission rewards disappeared quickly into ninja tools—kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, storage scrolls.
For an average shinobi, even a jōnin might carry ten or more explosive tags per mission.
That kind of expense added up fast.
The village provided missions—not equipment.
A ninja's survival depended on what they could personally afford.
Arata was different.
He rarely used ninja tools.
Shuriken were almost decorative to him.
Kunai were used more often—but mostly as a threat, not a weapon.
After all, pressing a kunai to someone's throat was far more normal than placing your palm there.
Because of that, the tools he'd bought upon graduation were still nearly new.
If he avoided unnecessary luxuries—and didn't buy a new house—he could live very comfortably just off mission income.
He didn't crave extravagance.
He just didn't want to live like a monk.
And unlike many people, he genuinely enjoyed missions.
They provided real combat experience.
They allowed him to travel.
And they paid him to do both.
Back in Wave Country, if he'd truly wanted money, he could have killed Gatō and taken everything.
But he hadn't.
At the barbecue restaurant, Arata explained everything.
What he'd been doing over the past month.
Why he couldn't continue taking missions with them.
Why this would be their last time working together.
Neither Kimura nor Taiko interrupted.
They were hurt—but they didn't argue.
They respected Arata too much for that.
They would never forget the graduation test, when Arata had stood alone against Honmoto Tōichi's killing intent—shielding them long enough for all three to pass.
By midday, they stood outside the restaurant.
Kimura finally couldn't hold it in.
Tears streamed down his face, but he forced a smile and raised his fist.
"Arata—no matter what you become in the future, you'll always be part of Class Eleven."
"And you'll always be my best friend."
Arata felt his chest tighten.
He placed a firm hand on Kimura's shoulder.
"No matter what happens, I'm still part of Class Eleven too. We're both still in Konoha."
"We just… won't run missions together anymore."
"Don't talk like I'm about to die," Kimura muttered.
Arata smiled.
Kimura laughed through his tears and punched him lightly in the chest.
"I'll work hard. Even if I can't catch up… I want to at least see your back as you keep moving forward."
Taiko had been silent the entire time.
She was the one who hurt the most.
She hadn't expected this meeting to be a farewell.
She had believed—quietly—that if she worked hard enough, she wouldn't hold Arata back.
Now she realized the truth.
She wouldn't hold him back—not because she caught up, but because he would no longer be with them at all.
When she first heard Arata had become a chūnin, she felt admiration.
Now, she understood something painful:
The gap between them had grown so wide she could no longer even see his silhouette.
Arata looked at her gently.
"Taiko… I'll see you around."
He turned to leave.
That was when she finally broke.
Tears fell freely now, but she forced herself to smile.
"Arata… I'll work hard too. I'll catch up to you."
Her mind was blank. She didn't know what else to say.
Arata nodded.
"I know. I believe you'll become strong."
He knew her talent was ordinary.
But he still wanted her to grow stronger.
Strong enough to protect herself.
The same went for Kimura.
They mattered to him differently than Naruto, Sasuke, or Sakura.
With Team Seven, he joked, lectured, and teased.
With Taiko and Kimura, his feelings were simpler—and more sincere.
But reality didn't care about feelings.
Even by the most conservative estimate, Arata was far beyond them now.
The missions awaiting him were ones they couldn't even participate in.
And so, no matter how reluctant he felt, he knew the truth—
Their bond as teammates had reached its end.
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