Chương 19: Dango, Old Scars, and New Habits

After visiting Itachi, Shuji's next stop was Mitarashi Anko. She lived in a central ninja apartment, cheap rental housing provided by the village for its shinobi. One room, one kitchen, one bathroom, just right for a single person. Anko had no parents. In an era of constant war, many shinobi outside the major clans were left orphaned, raised in village orphanages until reaching Academy age. Once enrolled, they moved into these village apartments.

The administration waived rent during their Academy years, sending staff monthly with stipends and checking in on their situation. Over the past three years, these ninja apartments had become crowded. Knock! Knock! The sound echoed down the quiet hallway. A long moment passed before dragging footsteps approached, accompanied by a groggy, heavily tired voice from behind the door.

"... Comiiiing... Who is it?" The door cracked open slightly. The girl standing behind it looked nothing like the lively photo in her mission file. At fourteen years old, Mitarashi Anko looked thin and exhausted. Her signature purple hair stuck out in a mess, and she wore a loose black mesh shirt over faded gym shorts. The moment the door opened, a foul rush of stale air hit Shuji, smelling of spoiled sweets, uncollected trash, and months of unventilated gloom.

She squined against the hallway light, looking at the figure standing outside. His refined features seemed familiar, especially the sharp, aloof line of his brow, instantly pulling up memories from her Academy days.

"Shu... Shuji?" Anko called out uncertainly, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Do you... need something?" The cold, intense top student from her memory, someone who always seemed to carry a heavy mission on his shoulders, felt strangely different from the calm, grounded person standing before her now.

"The village should have notified you," Shuji said, looking at his former classmate who seemed drained of all spirit.

"You have been reassigned to my squad." Anko scratched her messy hair, trying to recall through the haze of her long interrogation.

"Ah... right. Something like that." She stepped aside, letting him in with a listless wave.

"Come in. Don't expect much. It is... just like this." She did not even bother making excuses.... Shuji nodded and stepped through the entryway. His eyes swept across the small space. There was nothing remotely cheerful about it. A few empty ramen bowls lay scattered on the tatami, sitting beside half-eaten, hardened dango. Snack wrappers were tossed carelessly into corners, and empty soda cans lay knocked over beside a low table.

It was not a complete dump, but the owner had clearly given up on maintenance long ago. Shuji's gaze landed on a broom leaning against the corner. Without a word, he walked over, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the broom and dustpan, and began silently sweeping up the trash. His movements were smooth and natural, showing no hesitation about being in someone else's home. Anko stood frozen by his sudden action. When she saw him reaching to sweep away the dried dango, she blurted out, "Hey! Don't touch that! I...

I haven't finished that! Hey! Isn't this way too rude?"

"Go boil some water," Shuji said without looking up, his tone calm and practical.

"Serving a guest a cup of hot water is basic manners. If you have tea, fine. Plain water works too." He flicked a few empty cans into the trash bin in the corner with clean precision.

"You..." Anko choked on her words. Watching him clean her room so naturally gave her a strange sense of absurdity. Why was the top student from her memory, the one who always stood straight with sharp eyes, sweeping her floor? And doing it so... casually? She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Resigning herself, she muttered, "Fine, fine, I get it..." and turned toward the kitchen.... The clatter of a kettle echoed from the kitchen.

Shuji moved quickly, clearing the trash and stacking the scattered dishes together. He walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains with a sharp shhhk, and pushed open the frame. Fresh breeze smelling of sunlight blew inside, sweeping away the stale smell. Sunlight filled across half the room instantly. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. When Anko walked back carrying two steaming cups, the room felt much lighter, the air fresh and cool.

She set one cup on the low table in front of Shuji, held the other herself, and sat cross-legged opposite him. Looking at the refreshed room, her expression was a mix of awkwardness and confusion over his transformation.

"Here," Shuji said, placing a paper bag on the table and sliding it toward her. The top of the bag was open, revealing several sticks of glossy, sugar-coated tricolor dango that gave off a sweet smell. Anko's eyes lit up, but the light dimmed just as quickly. She looked at Shuji with suspicion.

"... What is this? Trying to bribe me? You are... nothing like you used to be."

"Bought it on the way," Shuji said. He picked up a stick, took a bite, and chewed slowly, savoring the taste.

"Soft, sweet, and chewy. Try one. It is much better than your dried-up leftovers." Seeing Shuji enjoy the treat without any pretense, then looking at the tempting sweets, Anko's stomach betrayed her with an audible growl. She hesitated for a second, but the sweet smell and her curiosity won. She reached into the bag, took a stick, and bit into it cautiously. The warm, springy rice dumpling melted in her mouth alongside the sweet glaze.

The familiar taste made her narrow her eyes, letting out a soft sigh of pure satisfaction.

"... It actually tastes good," Anko mumbled, stealing a glance at Shuji as she chewed. The boy sitting across from her, calmly eating dango with dust on his clothes from sweeping her room, felt completely unfamiliar yet strangely grounded.

"Have you been living on instant food lately?" Shuji gestured toward the empty ramen bowls with his stick. His tone carried no blame, merely confirming her situation.

"What else?" Anko chewed, her voice thick with self-deprecation.

"There are no missions to take. Eating out is expensive, and I do not feel like going out..." What she did not say was that she hated facing the sympathetic, probing, or suspicious looks from people outside.

"The border conflict has settled, leaving a massive backlog of trade route missions," Shuji said, swallowing his bite.

"Clearing stray ninja, escorting merchants, border patrols... C-rank and D-rank tasks are everywhere. The village did not assign you any?" Anko paused, her eyes darting away. She stared down at the greasy bamboo stick in her hand.

"They assigned them. Finding lost pets, pulling weeds. I did not want to take them." Her voice dropped low.

"... Pointless."

"Is it pointless, or do you... lack the spirit to do anything?" Shuji's gaze rested on her hand gripping the stick, where her knuckles turned slightly white. Anko snapped her head up, a flash of annoyance darting across her eyes at being called out, quickly replaced by exhaustion.

"Does it make a difference? It is all the same anyway." She looked away, staring at the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Back when I was following... him, I always had a target. Get stronger, learn higher jutsu. Now..." She let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh.

"It feels like my spine was ripped out. I cannot bring up the energy for anything. Orochimaru... sensei... why..." The rest of her words were forced back down, dissolving into a heavy exhale filled with resentment and confusion. Shuji listened quietly without interrupting, making no attempt to offer hollow comfort or lectures. He picked up another stick of dango, giving her time to settle her thoughts. The room fell quiet... His quiet, non-judgmental presence gave her space without pressing her.

"Anger and hate are normal," Shuji said slowly once her breathing steadied, his tone as even as if he were discussing the weather.

"But life moves forward. Locking yourself in here to rot, filling your stomach with instant noodles and stale sweets, does nothing except make your situation worse." He set down his empty stick, meeting her eyes directly.

"No matter how boring those village missions were, the pay buys fresh meals and the sweets you like. During a mission, your mind stays occupied and your body moves. It is far better than consuming yourself in this room." Anko stared at him. If anyone else had said those words, she would have dismissed them as empty preachy nonsense. But coming from Shuji... a boy who had become pragmatic, who had cleaned her apartment, brought fresh dango, and spoke with grounded sense... it carried an unexpected weight.

There was no fake sympathy, no moralizing. Just a simple truth: Life has to go on.

"You... really talk differently now," Anko muttered, her tone complex, but the deadness in her eyes loosened slightly. She looked down at the half-eaten dango in her hand, its sweet glaze gleaming under the sunlight. Fresh sweets really were much better than dried ones. She shoved the rest of the dango into her mouth, chewing hard as if grinding down her frustration along with it.

"Fine, you are right," she said, swallowing and wiping the sugar glaze from her lips. She looked up, and though exhaustion remained in her eyes, a tiny spark had rekindled.

"I need to move. Rotting here really is pointless." She looked at Shuji with a mix of curiosity and acceptance.

"So, Captain... when is our next mission? C-rank or B-rank?" Shuji looked at her, his lips curving upward by a fraction of a millimeter.

"I will not keep you idle. You will get the notification when it is time. For the next few days..." He stood up, looking around the clean but empty apartment.

"Deep clean this place. The next time I visit..." He pointed to the clean window and floor.

"I hope it stays like this. And serve hot tea."

"Hey! So many demands! Fine, I get it!" Anko complained loudly, but her tone lacked any real hostility. As Shuji opened the door to leave, she suddenly called out, "Hey, Shuji!" Shuji turned back.

"... Thank you." Her voice softened as she looked away. She paused before adding, "... For the dango, and the sweeping." Shuji nodded without another word and closed the door behind him. Anko sat alone in the quiet apartment. The sweet scent of fresh dango and sunlight lingered in the air. She looked down at her hands, then looked around the bright, clean room and the open window. Sunlight poured across the floor in warm, glowing patches.

She drew in a deep breath of fresh air and slowly let it out, releasing the stagnant gloom that had weighed on her chest for months. She stood up, walked to the corner, and picked up the broom. Gripping the handle tightly, she began sweeping away the lingering dust.