Chapter 11: The Will of Fire (Part Two)
Late June, Konoha Year 44. A surge of client requests had chunin and jonin alike in high spirits.
Money meant better equipment, and better equipment meant staying alive on missions. Every shuriken thrown was money spent. Only a steady stream of requests could sustain those costs, and anyone who wanted to live comfortably couldn't afford to stop taking work.
Might Guy understood this better than most. Since the three-person team had formed, their leader had rotated roughly every two weeks, with all three members of the Ino-Shika-Cho formation having taken a turn at some point.
Lower-paying assignments were handled under other jonin, but after months of consistent work, Might Guy had finally managed to upgrade his entire set of equipment.
Explosive tags, smoke bombs, higher-quality military ration pills, well-crafted kunai. These were the rewards that came with higher-ranked missions.
Back in the village Guy was the same fiery young man as always, but out on missions he had begun showing the instincts of a genuinely capable ninja, and killing was something he was growing steadily more accustomed to.
On a rare day off, Might Duy had already headed out to try for D-rank work as usual. Watching him go, Might Guy started to say something, held back, and finally let it out in a quiet voice:
"Dad, do you really have to keep doing D-rank missions? I don't need money from home anymore..."
"Don't forget self-discipline, Guy. This is the ninja path I have chosen. The flames of youth still burn!"
"..."
Might Duy pulled the door open, turned back to give his son a beaming smile, held up a thumb with unmistakable pride, and left. His son had surpassed him, and that honestly made him happier than anything.
Weeding, finding lost items, delivering small packages, cleaning yards, minding children. These were D-rank missions, mostly handed out to fresh graduates or ninja without exceptional ability.
Having tasted higher-ranked work, Might Guy found it hard to look at a few thousand ryo with any enthusiasm. His father's choice stung more than he wanted to admit.
He arrived at the training ground with his usual energy nowhere to be found. It was Kakashi's voice that finally pulled him out of it.
"You're actually late."
"Guy, don't tell me you ran into an old lady who needed help too."
Kakashi, short blade across his back and arms folded, had already delivered the jab before noticing something was off with Guy's expression.
"Sorry. I just... I don't want to see Father take D-rank missions anymore. One time out on assignment, he actually begged a chunin in public to give him work..."
Thinking of his father being mocked and put down, Might Guy felt the weight settle back on him. He always came away from those memories feeling a little smaller.
"You don't need to care what anyone else thinks, Guy. Your father raised you to where you are today on D-rank missions alone. That is genuinely remarkable."
"He is, without question, a fine ninja. And if you want things to be different, start with yourself."
Furukawa Osamu poured everything he had into the rare opening, delivering one encouraging line after another until his throat went dry. He stopped only when he had nothing left to add.
Kakashi stood rooted to the spot beside him. He did think Might Duy supporting a family on D-rank work was admirable, but not quite to the degree Osamu had just described.
Might Guy felt a rush of shame at whatever he had been thinking moments before. Tears came immediately, and he shouted in a choked voice:
"I had no right to question my father! Osamu, you're right. I'll keep pushing forward, starting with earning enough to get us a better house!"
"Five hundred laps around the village, and if..."
Seeing the "burning youth" routine about to launch, Kakashi cut in fast and tossed over the nunchaku he had been holding:
"Don't forget what we're here to train for today. Somehow this weapon actually suits you."
Might Guy's face lit up the moment he had them in his hands. In lower-ranked missions a weapon was simply more efficient, and he had never gotten comfortable with a short blade.
He went to try a spin, hit himself squarely with the handle, and yelped. The two in front of him had their blades out before the sound finished echoing, and Guy quickly backpedaled:
"Wait, give me a minute to get used to it! Going straight into a fight is too dangerous right now..."
"It's fine. I've already mastered the A-rank medical jutsu Mystical Palm. Watch your force and surface cuts won't be a problem."
Furukawa Osamu let the short blade hang low at his side, smiled, and launched himself forward, a dark streak driving in a straight line.
Clang. Clank.
The impacts rang out. Seeing that Guy could only defend, Kakashi joined in without hesitation, swinging away and making his case out loud as he went:
"Neither of us has any experience with that weapon either. The only way you're going to get used to it is in live practice."
"I'll keep the force controlled."
"Ow!"
A cry of pain rang across the training grounds. Might Guy had some regrets. Whatever had been weighing on him evaporated instantly.
There was no Iron Body technique in the ninja world. Even light cuts still hurt.
* * *
September ninth. Furukawa Osamu's birthday.
In the months since graduation, his days had been divided between routine missions and studying at Tsunade's side. Now that he had fully mastered the Mystical Palm and the Chakra Scalpel along with other advanced medical jutsu, Tsunade, who had been an exacting teacher throughout, finally allowed herself to look genuinely satisfied.
Perhaps she was pleased enough that she decided on the spot to treat him at a tavern for his birthday. And while she was at it, she invited an old friend or two.
"This is my first time meeting Osamu. At seven I had nowhere near this kind of ability."
"Tsunade, you really should have taken a student years ago, same as I did. We're not getting any younger. The old man's mentioned to me more than once that you're what he worries about most."
"Women and men age differently, you know, after a certain point..."
Jiraiya, dressed in a plain blue jonin outfit and well into his cups, cut himself off the moment he heard the cracking sound. Tsunade was already glaring. She shot to her feet and shouted:
"Jiraiya, you absolute idiot! Say one more word, I dare you!"
"..."
Jiraiya shrank back against his seat with an awkward grin. Beside him, Orochimaru, dressed in plain black, remained perfectly composed. He spoke in his usual dry, slightly hoarse voice:
"Earning Tsunade's recognition at this age is genuinely no small thing."
"It seems Osamu can inherit everything from you. I always assumed you would take in Shizune, given that she's the last of that family."
Tsunade, cheeks flushed from the drink, heard that and only shook her head. She answered with quiet seriousness:
"I just want Shizune to be able to live a peaceful life. Death takes everything. Being a skilled medical ninja is enough."
Jiraiya watched Furukawa Osamu pour another drink for Tsunade, then tossed his white hair back in what he clearly considered a dashing manner and steered things away from the heavier topic with a grin:
"Today is Osamu's birthday. I prepared a very special gift."
"This is a collector's item, not yet officially published. You'll thank me for it later."
The grin that spread across his face was the kind only other men tend to understand. Furukawa Osamu accepted the book and a scroll with both hands and thanked him with great solemnity:
"Thank you very much, Jiraiya-sama. I will read it carefully."
Ignoring Jiraiya's expression entirely, Orochimaru maintained the dignity befitting one of the Legendary Sannin, producing a scroll of his own. He offered it with a faint smile and words that carried an unmistakable undercurrent of meaning:
"Tsunade tells me your ninjutsu talent is exceptional. These are some of my personal insights on jutsu. I think you'll find them useful."
"Osamu, I hope we meet again someday on the road to seeking the truth."
"I am deeply grateful for your generosity, Orochimaru-sama."
Furukawa Osamu gave a slight bow and accepted the scroll with both hands. Watching the scene, Jiraiya's mood lifted even further. He raised his cup toward the others with a broad laugh:
"With talent like this coming up, the village will only grow stronger."
"Perhaps Minato, Osamu, and the rest of them will all become Hokage one day. For us, that is the Will of Fire being passed down."