Konohagakure, evening.
Inside the Uzuki family's courtyard, the lights were bright. Uzuki Sakura and Higashino Megumi were preparing dinner. As they worked, the two chatted casually, letting out clear, light laughter from time to time—it was obvious they were in very good spirits.
Although their respective husbands were still on the northern front, at least the war against Kirigakure had already been won, and the children had all returned safely.
The food preparation was lavish. Besides some common home-style dishes, they had also brought out a barbecue table specially meant for grilling, slicing a large amount of fresh meat.
It was already close to the end of August. Higashino Makoto's squad had finally finished its garrison duty and was returning to the village today. Judging by the distance between the eastern front and Konohagakure, at a shinobi's pace, even without traveling at full speed, a single day would be more than enough to make it home.
The two had originally planned to eat at an outside barbecue restaurant, but recently, with large numbers of ninja returning, Konohagakure's consumer crowd had surged sharply. Reservations at shops everywhere were fully booked. After discussing it together, they felt it would be better to hold a dinner at home instead—the atmosphere would be much nicer that way.
Unlike the Higashino residence, which was on an upper floor, the Uzuki family's house was a traditional-style building with a small courtyard. Next door lived the family of Uzuki Yūgao's uncle.
Her uncle was named Uzuki Yūmura, a registered chūnin of Konohagakure, who was also currently on the northern front. Her aunt had died on the Iwagakure battlefield one month before the Battle of Kannabi Bridge. Her cousin, Uzuki Shige, was only six years old and had just entered the Ninja Academy's first grade, and was usually looked after by Uzuki Sakura.
War casualties were normal; the Uzuki family was no exception. The Higashino family had simply been relatively lucky in this war.
This was everyone in the Uzuki clan. The Gekkō clan had a few more members, but the difference was not large. Most of the tiny, micro-scale ninja clans in Konohagakure were like this; they simply could not be compared with those medium- or large-scale clans. Calling them commoners would not be wrong.
If the Higashino family had not suffered consecutive population losses in the previous two Shinobi World Wars, its size should have been about the same as the Uzuki family's.
For civilian shinobi households in the ninja villages, establishing a clan was extremely difficult. A single war could reduce their numbers—or even wipe out the entire family—turning the efforts of several generations into nothing.
By the shinobi world's common understanding, this was the fate of ninjas. If you could not accept it, then do not become a ninja.
It was around 7:30. Makoto and the other three arrived together.
In fact, they had returned earlier, but after reaching Konohagakure, they first went to the Hokage Tower to register and report for duty, and only then came over.
"Mom!" As soon as she entered the house, Yūgao threw herself into her mother's arms. At home, she was not that young kunoichi who could swing a blade on the battlefield without even blinking; she was a little girl who needed her mother's affection.
It was a sharply split contrast, but ninjas had to get used to this kind of split. Those who could not get used to it were prone to mental problems.
"Good that you're back!" Sakura lovingly stroked her daughter's head.
The shinobi world was an extremely contradictory world. The ninjas here and the so-called "ninjas" of Makoto's past-life "Japan" were two completely different concepts—after all, there had been no extraordinary power like chakra in his past life.
Ninjas are educated from a young age to endure everything, to grow indifferent to emotions, and to become task machines that obey orders. Yet chakra is formed by the fusion of physical energy and spiritual energy.
The richer one's emotions are, the stronger one's spiritual energy becomes, and the more possibilities can be unleashed—capable of creating miracles, but also of becoming obsessively uncontrollable.
To deal with loss of control, it becomes necessary to emphasize the importance of family and friends, using bonds such as kinship and friendship as restraints.
And then a classic question is born: if a mission and a companion fall into the water at the same time, which one do you save first?
"Mom, I'm back!" Makoto greeted her as well.
Megumi's eyes were a little moist. "You're back, Makoto. You've grown taller—and better-looking too!"
Sakura laughed. "Isn't he the same as before? If anything, he's starting to look more and more like you!"
"Looking like me is good, looking like me is good—makes it easier to find a girlfriend later," Megumi said, then suddenly added, "Though it might not even be that troublesome. Our Makoto is a little hero of Konohagakure now. There's a nurse at the hospital named Mai—after she found out we share the same surname, she's been asking me about you quite often."
Makoto was a bit curious. "She's a nurse at the hospital? How come I never saw her before when I was there?"
"Because she only started working recently. Her former teammates—apparently all of them died on the eastern front. After returning this time, she entered the hospital and is preparing to transfer and become a medical ninja."
"So that's how it is!"
Yūgao puffed out her cheeks. "Hmph—she's clearly several years older than Makoto, yet she's still asking around about him and can't stop thinking about him. That's really too much!"
"Oh my—little Yūgao, are you jealous?" The two mothers exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing together.
The small courtyard was instantly filled with a cheerful atmosphere, lifting everyone's spirits.
But someone was not laughing.
"Hey—you're that Higashino Makoto from the legends, right? The one who used a dirt wall hundreds of meters high to save his companions and beat up the Kirigakure bad guys? You don't look that impressive to me."
Makoto lowered his head to look. It was Yūgao's cousin, Uzuki Shige—a little brat with a thoroughly unconvinced expression. Makoto smiled and said, "Yes, that's me. But the dirt wall wasn't hundreds of meters high—that would be exaggerated. It was only thirty to forty thousand meters high."
"You're bragging! Hmph, so rumors really can't be trusted. You're just a guy who likes to boast. If I could go to the battlefield, maybe the hero would be me!"
"Mm, I believe you'll definitely do even better than I did. Keep it up!"
Makoto smiled and didn't argue with him. A hot-blooded little brat like this would behave himself after getting caught in an enemy's explosive-tag traps a few times.
"Shige, don't be rude to our guest," Yūgao said, then delivered a solid punch to her brother's head, making the little guy clutch his head and crouch defensively.
"I get it, Sis—stop hitting me, stop hitting me! I'll get beaten stupid!"
Oh? Looks like there's no need for explosive-tag traps—sister's fist works just as well."
Who knows—if the Uzuki family had a hereditary necklace, now would be the time to put it on him.
...
After enjoying a cheerful, lavish dinner with familiar friends and family, Makoto's mood brightened considerably. The trace of severity and gloom on his face brought on by killing on the battlefield began to fade.
Sure enough, a happy environment could dissolve everything; an unfortunate fate, on the other hand, made people want to destroy everything.
Unlike the past, when Konohagakure was filled everywhere with mourning, now, as he walked home with Megumi, laughter could be heard coming from many places.
Sounds spilled out from residential homes, from izakayas, from all kinds of eateries. The returning ninjas were either accompanying their families or gathering with friends, celebrating that they were still alive and celebrating the victory of the war.
Scars were their medals; experiences were their conversation pieces. If they drank a few more cups of alcohol, there would inevitably be some bragging. Who knew what kind of bizarre image Makoto would turn into during that process.
Megumi sighed. "Now we're just waiting for the fighting in the north to end. Once that happens, this war will truly be over, and I won't have to worry about you all every single day anymore."
Makoto reassured her. "Don't worry, Mom. It will be over very soon."
Judging by the normal course of events, this war would indeed come to a temporary close within the year—only temporarily, however.
"Makoto, perhaps the three of you in your squad will be promoted to chūnin very soon. That's much faster than it was in our day. Still, the village's chūnin record is held by that child Kakashi, so you won't exactly stand out."
"It should be fine. Our squad's battle merits and mission volume are sufficient, but everything still depends on the village's arrangements."
When it came to chūnin, no one could really compare with Kakashi. The little white-haired kid became a chūnin at six years old—unprecedented for sure, and whether there would be anyone after him was unknown.
In fact, as long as one's strength was sufficient, promotion to chūnin was easy. Although the eastern front command did not have the authority to grant direct promotions, it bore the responsibility of observation and recommendation.
Their performance during the war would be specially recorded and compiled for submission upward, including evaluations from the jōnin leading their teams. In theory, this made it possible to become a chūnin directly without going through the chūnin exams.
Promotion to jōnin, however, required much more careful consideration. Kakashi becoming an official jōnin at twelve years old, aside from his hard power being sufficient, was more likely compensation for Hatake Sakumo's unexpected suicide.
Makoto did not have any particular expectations regarding promotion. Being a ninja was still just being a ninja.
His purpose in becoming a ninja was not for promotion, but simply to experience the life of this extraordinary profession.
Relatively speaking, in his mind, the title of genin actually sounded more earth-shattering, and losing it felt a bit of a pity. As for chūnin—wasn't that just some roadside nobody?
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