Bab 49: Chapter 45: Tenten.
Author Note: Nothing of importance, just enjoy the chapter, and if you have any questions, make sure to comment!
And like always, remember if you want to read up to 13-15 chapters ahead go to https://www.patreón.com/cornbringer
I'm currently updating the novel 2-8 chapters a day in patreeeeon. On chapter 60 so far, though by the end of today it will be chapter 64-66
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Enjoy you sexy bastards.
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[Arata Takeshi - POV.]
The streets of Konoha were bustling with activity as I made my way to the market. Today, like yesterday, I was also off duty, so I decided to stock up on supplies—kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, and the like. I was running low on some of them.
Besides, I was getting bored of being confined to the compound. So, going shopping felt like a nice change of pace. Happy to stretch my legs a bit, I navigated through the busy crowd of the afternoon, feeling my personal entourage of ANBU agents tailing close behind me.
I was heading to a particular store I had heard about from Shisui that was quite well-known for all shinobi needs: The Wolf Fang store of Konoha. Apparently, the owner was a blacksmith who crafted most of his own merchandise. Hopefully, the quality of his items would be comparable to those my father used to provide.
Fingers crossed.
"There it is," I said, catching a glimpse of the store sign.
The familiar clang of metal and the scent of oiled leather greeted me as I entered the supply store. The walls were lined with all sorts of ninja tools and weapons, each neatly displayed and meticulously maintained. Everything seemed of good quality, perhaps not as good as what I had seen my father craft, but good enough.
Though I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on the blacksmith here. Most, if not all, of what my father crafted were custom orders, expensive orders at that, so he had time to meticulously craft each item with precision and care, making sure every weapon he made was a masterpiece. In contrast, this blacksmith had to maintain a large stock for the average shinobi, compromising quality for quantity.
I moved closer to one of the counters, browsing through the neatly stacked packs of shuriken and kunai. My hands moved deliberately, picking up one; its weight felt good. I would probably have to sharpen them, but other than that, they seemed okay. The price was certainly good.
As I continued browsing through the merchandise, inspecting different sets of shuriken, a man approached me.
"Hello there, young shinobi," he greeted warmly. "Can I help you with something?"
I turned to face him. He was a rugged man, probably in his early thirties, with a sturdy build and a face lined with years of hard work. His hands were calloused, a sign of someone who had spent a lot of time working with metal. His name tag read Amano Takahashi.
"I'm just looking to restock on some essentials," I replied, gesturing to the various tools around us. "Kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, the usual."
Amano nodded, his eyes glinting with interest. "I see. It's always good to keep a well-stocked arsenal. Anything specific you're looking for? I've got some new items that might catch your eye."
New items? I might as well indulge him and see if I find something interesting. Nodding, I followed him as he led me to a section of the store that seemed to showcase the latest and greatest in ninja gear. "I'm open to suggestions," I said, scanning the items he pointed out.
"These kunai here are made from a new alloy," Amano explained, picking up one of the sleek, black weapons. "Stronger and more durable than the standard ones. And these shuriken have been designed for better aerodynamics, giving you more precision and speed."
I took the kunai from him, testing its weight in my hand. It felt balanced and sturdy, definitely a cut above the usual fare. "These are impressive," I admitted. "I'll take a set of these, and three dozen of those shuriken as well."
Amano smiled, clearly pleased with my interest. "Good choice. I'll get those packed up for you. Anything else you need? We've got a new batch of explosive tags that are quite effective. And by the way, do you want your weapons sharpened? It's free of charge, don't worry!"
Oh, so that's why the weapons were so dull. He probably keeps them dull to avoid accidents in his shop. Though considering the only ones that buy in stores like these are shinobi, it makes me question how careless a shinobi could be to be hurt by a tool they use on a daily basis.
"Sure, it would save me some time, and yes, add a few packs of those explosive tags," I replied, following him to the counter.
"So, Mr. Amano," I said as he finished the transaction. "Do you make all of these yourself?"
I wanted to know if he was the owner, seeing Shisui had told me the owner of the store was a blacksmith, because if he was, I wanted to know if he took custom orders.
He nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yes, I do. I've been a blacksmith for over fifteen years now. Almost every piece you see here has been crafted with care and precision, and what isn't is bought from reputable blacksmiths. It's my way of contributing to the village's strength."
I smiled. "That's admirable."
He waved off the compliment with a modest grin. "Just doing my part."
"My father was a blacksmith as well," I replied, a faint smile on my face.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Amano said with a respectful bow of his head.
I didn't even say he was dead, but he understood nevertheless. Quite a perceptive blacksmith; I just might become a regular here.
"Thanks," I replied.
"Sorry if I sound nosy, but what was your father's name, kid?" Mr. Amano asked after a brief moment of silence. "I know most of the blacksmiths around Konoha, so I probably knew your old man."
I hadn't considered that possibility before. My father did spend a lot of his time in the blacksmith circles of Konoha, so it stood to reason that he might have known Mr. Amano and many other blacksmiths. I just never met any of his friends, and my father never brought anyone home to eat or anything. "Arata Yoshiro."
Recognition touched Mr. Amano's eyes as he heard the name, accompanied by a small, nostalgic smile. "Ah, old Yoshiro... I remember him well. He was a true master of his craft; made blades so fine they cut through flesh like it was silk." His gaze became distant for a moment, lost in memory. "He had a hand like a hawk - could spot a flaw in a blade faster than you could blink. He was a good man, Yoshiro, he taught me a lot of things when I was first starting in the business."
I smiled softly at this. "He was good at his craft."
Mr. Amano nodded, smiling at me. "He used to talk a lot about you when we went out drinking; he was very proud of you."
And then, Danzo decided to kill him…
"Thanks," I replied, taking a deep breath to reel my emotions back into place. "I'm afraid I can't say my father ever talked about you, or any other friends. He rarely spoke about things like that; he was either working or spending time with us."
My father had a very strong philosophy that stated that the best way to live was to live in the moment. Meaning that if he was with you, he wanted to talk about you, not about his friends or what he did during the weekend, because for him, at that moment you were more important than anything else.
He also believed it was best to keep most friendships outside the home. Mostly because he didn't like the idea of having my mom cleaning up after his drunk friends, so whenever he decided to have fun, which wasn't often, he would go out.
In short, my knowledge of my father's personal life outside the house was very limited. Only my mother knew what he was doing at all times.
"That's okay," Mr. Amano chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "He was very eccentric, like most shinobi, so we didn't mind. We all knew how Yoshiro was, and we loved him like that."
I chuckled. I suppose that's one way to describe my father. Eccentric.
"Did you know your father was the godfather of my daughter?" Mr. Amano asked, his gaze now taking on a layer of tender sentimentality.
I blinked in surprise. "No, I didn't."
Though that would explain why that one time in particular he was buying clothes for a baby with Mom. At the time, I had just assumed they were for Mito, but now that I think about it… I don't remember him giving the clothes to Mito, and if that wasn't enough proof, I never saw Mito wearing any of those clothes.
Normally, one would assume that the mother in question just didn't like the clothes for the baby, but that couldn't be the case here. I mean, Lady Mikoto had allowed the little princess to wear fashion monstrosities that Kushina had bought for her.
"Yes," he said with a nod. "My daughter, Tenten. She's almost two years old now." His eyes twinkled as he smiled at the memory. "When she was born, Yoshiro was one of the first to hold her. He had that firm yet gentle grip of his, cradling her as if she were spun from the thinnest silk. I knew then, there would be no better choice for a godfather."
I tried to picture the scene in my mind, a fond smile forming on my face. Just how close of a friend you had to be with someone to be there when they have their kid?
Wait… a minute, did he say his daughter was Tenten?
Unless Tenten was a more common name than I imagined, which I doubted since this was the first time I had heard it in person, it meant my father was the godfather of one of the main characters of the show.
Well, to be fair, "main character" felt like a bit of a stretch, seeing my memories of her were… very few, and somehow I doubted the memories I didn't have about the show… well, showed more about Tenten.
"I remember telling him, 'Look at her, Yoshiro. Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?'" Mr. Amano chuckled. "He replied, telling me I was already whipped, and she wasn't even a few days old."
I snorted. That sounded like something my father would say and then get scolded by my mom. "That sounds like him."
Mr. Amano smiled, scratching the back of his head. "Do you want to meet my little chipmunk?"
"Chipmunk?" The pet name he had for his daughter left a warm bubble of laughter on my tongue. "Why not? I have nothing on my schedule."
As we made our way through the smithy, I felt the ANBU agents deployed to watch over me get above the store, possibly in order to get a better entry point should something go south. I suppose they still haven't flushed out who was working for Orochimaru and are operating under the assumption anyone could be.
Smart.
Though I seriously doubted Mr. Amano worked for the snake, and if he did, and this was Orochimaru's big master plan to get me, I would honestly feel rather insulted. Mr. Amano didn't have his chakra developed like a shinobi would. He seemed to be able to use chakra based on what I felt about him, which was to be expected, seeing he needed to be able to use chakra to work with chakra metals, but regardless of that, he was still a civilian with a few chakra-related skills, most of which had no combat application.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I continued walking as Mr. Amano guided me towards a surprisingly cozy-looking room nestled in the corner of the smithy, its entrance veiled by thick, embroidered hemp curtains. Stepping inside, I was met with a pink-colored room, full of wooden toys, most of them wooden kunai, shuriken, and other weapons but made out of wood.
In the middle of the room, I found what I assumed was the 'chipmunk.'
A girl with pigtails and wide hazel eyes sat on the tatami mat floor, engrossed in play. As she looked up at us, her face lit up like a lantern.
"Papa!" she squealed, running towards him with her chubby arms open.
Hm, I can see the resemblance between her and her portrayal on the show.
"How's my little chipmunk?" Mr. Amano asked, scooping the excited toddler into his arms. Her squeal of delight echoed within the room.
"Gwod, Papa!" she chirped before her gaze settled on me. Inquisitive hazel eyes stared at me, and her head tilted slightly to the side, mirroring a curious cat. "Papa, who dat?"
Mr. Amano chuckled, jiggling her slightly on his knee, as he gestured towards me with a calloused hand. "This here is Takeshi." He gave me a warm look before looking back down at his daughter, pausing for a bit, as if deep in thought. "He's… hm, I don't know what your father being my chipmunk's godfather makes you…"
It makes us nothing, as far as I am aware, though I wasn't one to read or research about these kinds of subjects, so I could be wrong.
"Hi, Tateshi!" The little girl waved energetically, her hand flapping like a frantic bird's wing as a chuckle slipped past my lips at her enthusiastic attempt to pronounce my name.
"Hi," I replied, giving her a small wave back. Her mouth formed a wide "O" of surprise before she giggled and hid her face.
"Papa, Tateshi is a nobi!" Tenten whispered close to her father's ear, her tone sounding shyly excited.
I'm… a what? Nobi?
Mr. Amano chuckled. "That's right, my little chipmunk, he's a shinobi."
Oh, she was trying to say that I am a shinobi. That makes more sense. Honestly, one would expect that after all this time with Mito, I would be proficient with baby/toddler language, but it seems each toddler has their own unique dialect.
Shyly, Tenten walked towards me, stopping a few inches away from me, and began tugging on my pants. "Show 'nobi 'jutsu, pwease?"
I chuckled, looking at Mr. Amano.
"If you want, nothing dangerous though," Mr. Amano replied, smiling brightly.
Deciding to indulge the mini Tenten, I used the transformation jutsu to transform into a cat, my form shrinking and contorting under the jutsu until I was a soft-furred black feline with gleaming silver eyes. Tenten's chubby cheeks flushed with excitement as she clapped her hands together, exclaiming, "Kitty!"
She reached out to touch my new form, her small fingers light against my fur, and I purred loudly, a sound that brought a burst of giggles from Tenten. What can I say? A true shinobi has to know how to play the part he's required to; in short, if you need to be a cat, know how to purr.
"Again, again!" she cried, bouncing on her toes. With a quick puff of smoke, I transformed back into my human form, bowing slightly to the wide-eyed toddler like a showman.
"Unfortunately, I have to go," I replied, ruffling her hair.
Tenten pouted, her chubby cheeks puffing out adorably in protest. "But... but Tateshi... more 'nobi 'jutsu..." she stammered, her tiny fists balling at her sides.
"Later, chipmunk," Mr. Amano assured, scooping her up in his sturdy arms. "Shinobi are busy people, sweetheart. Besides, he needs to train, so he can show us bigger and better jutsu next time."
Tenten seemed mollified, her pout turning into a small smile. "Tain... like Tateshi?" she asked, pointing at herself.
"One day," Mr. Amano replied, kissing her on the forehead.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone