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Inside a little apartment, Kaito was alone like usual, his heavy breathing the only sound cutting through the quietness. Sweat dripped from his brow, pooling on the floor beneath him as he lowered himself into another push-up. His arms trembled, gritting his teeth as he rose back up.
His body was covered in various objects clinging to his bare torso and legs, as if they'd been haphazardly thrown at him and left to stick."40... 50... 60... 70... 80..." Kaito counted, his voice strained with every rep.
His arms trembled, threatening to give out, but he forced himself through the last push-up. Finally, he collapsed onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as his chest heaved. "Ah..." he groaned, struggling to catch his breath.
When it came to chakra control, Kaito felt he was decent. But his physical strength? That was another story entirely. He was weak, painfully so, but not as weak as before. There was progress, slow and small, but progress nonetheless.
He couldn't tell if it was the boar meat or his training that made the difference. Maybe it was both. A month had passed, and he had just one more month of summer break before he'd have to go back to school.
He wouldn't exactly call himself a geek or a nerd, but he was genuinely a little excited about going back. For one, he'd finally get to learn shurikenjutsu and some new jutsus. Sure, they were only E-Rank, but it was still better than nothing. ( Henge no Jutsu, Bunshin no Jutsu, and Kawarimi no Jutsu. )
Two, this was his last year at the academy, and that meant he was close to graduating and officially becoming a genin. Becoming a genin would open the door to missions and give him the chance to finally learn real jutsu.
The problem? He didn't know the three basic jutsu that were required to graduate. The Kaito before him had learned those fundamentals, but this version of him hadn't. He had no idea how to perform them.
Sure, if he knew the hand signs, he was confident he could pull them off on the first try thanks to his high level of chakra control—at least, high for an Academy student. But confidence alone wouldn't cut it; he needed to figure this out fast.
He let out a heavy sigh, dragging himself up from the floor and grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off his face. "Man... I'm so thirsty," he muttered, his hand instinctively rubbing his throat. Turning his eyes to a cup of water sitting on the table behind him, he groaned inwardly.
Without moving from his spot, he stretched out his hands toward the cup, as though he could pull it to him with just a thought. His fingers flexed outward, palms wide open, as he drew in a deep breath. Focusing intently, he began channeling chakra to his fingertips, feeling the faint, familiar warmth build as he concentrated.
From his fingertips, thin blue wires of chakra wobbled weakly through the air, reaching toward the cup. He grunted in frustration, trying to guide the chakra threads closer. The threads swayed unsteadily, inching forward, but then they stopped, dangling just a few inches away from their target. No matter how hard he tried to push them further, they wouldn't budge.
It was still progress, though. Not long ago, he couldn't even summon a single thread without it immediately dispersing. Now, his control had improved to the point where he could project the chakra strings a short distance before losing control. It wasn't perfect, but it was a step forward.
Still, he wanted to test himself, to see how much progress he had made since his last attempt.
With a frustrated sigh, he cut off the chakra flow and let his hand drop to his sides. Walking over to the cup of water he had been using as his target, he picked it up and tilted it to his head. It didn't bother him much that it didn't work out this time.
Progress was progress, even if it wasn't perfect yet. Setting the empty cup back on the counter, he wiped the water dripping from the corner of his mouth and stared at the wall for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
"Time to get ready for work, I guess," he muttered to himself. Kaito's body ached from the string of double shifts he'd been pulling lately. The soreness settled deep into his muscles, a constant reminder of the grind he couldn't escape. But bills had to be paid, and complaining wasn't going to change that.
Dragging his feet slightly, he made his way over to the old, beat-up fridge in the corner. The door groaning as he pulled it open, revealing its meager contents.
He couldn't help but groan as he opened the fridge. It was practically empty, save for a small slab of boar meat that, surprisingly, hadn't spoiled yet. But that wasn't the real issue—he was running out of food fast. There wasn't a single grain of rice left, and all he had to survive on was that lonely piece of meat.
That meant he'd have to go hunting again. Hunting wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. He wasn't some wild barbarian who loved hunting animals. No, he liked to think of himself as a civilized guy who appreciated the comfort of his home. Still, hunting had its benefits. It forced him to navigate the terrain better and sharpened his stealth skills, so it wasn't all bad.
When it came to missions outside the village, it was always smart to know how to survive in the wilderness—just in case.
He shook off the thought as he headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Once he was clean, he got dressed in his janitor uniform. With that, Kaito left his small, quiet home and started his walk to the hospital.
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"MOVE! MOVE!" The frantic cries echoed through the hospital halls as a gurney raced by, carrying a man clutching his stomach, blood pouring through his fingers. He was surrounded by a team of doctors shouting for others to clear the way.
"HELP! I'M DYING!" the man wailed, his eyes wide with panic as he stared at the blood gushing from his wound.
Trailing behind, was a boy with messy black hair quietly pushing a mop across the floor. Kaito, the janitor, dragged his water bucket along, pausing briefly to clean up a stray speck of blood left behind in the wake of the emergency. Without so much as a glance at the commotion, he resumed his cleaning.
After finishing, he dropped the mop into the bucket with a casual thud, like it was second nature. It was, though—this scene had played out so many times over the past month that it felt like just another day
As he walked through the halls, he stopped in front of a door labeled "Janitor Room." Turning the knob, he stepped inside. The room was fairly spacious, about the size of an average classroom. In the center stood a giant round table, and sitting at it was an older man quietly eating a salad.
There was a counter next to the table stocked with tea and other break room essentials. The old man turned to face him, his wrinkled face pulling into a warm smile. "Oh? You're on break too, Kaito?" he asked, his tone lightly amused.
Kaito returned the smile and gave a small bow. "Yes, sir." The gesture wasn't out of habit but a sign of "respect" for the elderly, something ingrained in the culture of this world. The old man seemed to appreciate it. Even though Kaito was American, he had adapted to the customs of this Japan-inspired society.
"How's it going, sir?" he asked as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
Kaito leaned back in the chair, his fingers tracing the edge of the table absentmindedly as he waited for the old man's response. The elder chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. "It's going, boy, it's going. These old bones don't move like they used to, but I can't complain. Work keeps me busy, keeps me sharp. And you? How are you holding up?"
Kaito hesitated for a moment, glancing at his hands. They were rough from hours of work and training. "I'm managing," he said with a shrug, keeping his tone casual. "Still trying to figure things out, you know? Balance work, training, and… everything else."
The old man nodded knowingly, his expression thoughtful. "Life's like that sometimes. Full of spinning plates. But remember, the key isn't in balancing them perfectly—it's in not giving up when one falls."
Kaito offered a small smile, appreciating the wisdom in the old man's words.
The old man got up and poured himself a cup of tea and motioned toward the pot. "Help yourself. You could use some warmth. You've been looking a bit tired lately."
"Thanks," Kaito said, pouring a cup and letting the steam rise into his face. The warmth was comforting, and he took a slow sip, letting the tea settle his nerves.
The old man glanced at the clock mounted on the wall and let out a startled gasp. "Oops! Sorry, Kaito-kun... My break's over. We'll catch up later, yeah?" he said hurriedly.
Kaito offered a small smile and nodded. "Alright, sir. Thank you again for the tea."
The old man returned the smile with a warm nod and promptly headed out the door, leaving Kaito alone with his thoughts.
As the room grew quiet, Kaito leaned back and sighed. "What to do now?" he muttered to himself, tapping his fingers lightly against the wooden table. After a brief moment of contemplation, his face lit up with a decision. "Guess, I'll go look for Hitori."
Finishing the last sip of his tea, Kaito placed the cup back on the table, stood up, and made his way out the door.
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Hitori sat on the edge of the hospital roof, a faint breeze ruffling his unkempt hair. The village stretched below him, with the lights glowing softly under the haze of early evening. A cigarette hung loosely from his fingers, a thin trail of smoke curling up into the darkening sky.
He took a slow drag, letting the harsh burn fill his lungs before exhaling with a tired sigh. The smoke spiraled into the air, disappearing just like the ambitions he'd once convinced himself he had.
"Useless," he muttered, flicking ash over the edge of the building. His voice barely rose above the wind, but the word still hit like a knife in his chest. That's what he was—just a hollow existence. No direction, no drive, and no idea why he was even still here.
It wasn't that he hated himself. He didn't feel much of anything at all anymore, except this nagging emptiness that clawed at his insides. He'd tried filling it before—with excuses, with distractions, even with people—but it always came back, swallowing him whole.
Hitori tilted his head back, letting the last rays of sunlight bathe his face. "Maybe I'm just wasting space," he muttered.
And yet, something kept him sitting there. Something stopped him from snuffing out the cigarette and walking off. He couldn't name it—pride, fear, or maybe just the faint hope that life could still be more than this.
He took another drag and waited, as if the answer to his misery might be hiding somewhere in the smoke.
"Kaito..." he mumbled under his breath, the name barely escaping his lips. He knew deep down why he hadn't taken the step yet, why he remained sitting on the edge. Kaito. The guy was a total weirdo, no doubt about it, but there was something about him that made him smile despite everything.
Maybe Kaito saw the pain he was carrying, the weight he thought no one else could understand, and decided to lend a hand in his own strange way. Kaito was different. He didn't look at him with judgment or whisper behind his back like everyone else.
Instead, he approached him with an almost annoying persistence, as if he was determined to break through the walls he'd built around himself. But now, sitting here with his feet dangling off the edge, a new thought crept into his mind—a thought that made his stomach twist.
What if Kaito was only trying to be friends out of pity? What if all of this was just because he felt sorry for him? The idea gnawed at him, making the smile he'd just had fade away. He didn't want pity; he wanted someone to see him, to truly see him, not as someone broken but as someone worth knowing.
Yet, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't figure Kaito out. Was this genuine kindness, or was it just another way to remind him of how far he was gone?
' It'd just be easier to end it all…' he thought, as he shuffled closer to the edge of the rooftop. Maybe if he ended it now, all the pain, the weight crushing his chest, would finally be gone. Maybe in some afterlife, things would be different—better even. At least, that's what he told himself.
With trembling hands, he took one last drag from the cigarette clenched between his fingers. The glowing ember seemed so small and insignificant, just like he felt. He flicked it off the edge, watching the tiny orange dot plummet to the ground far below before vanishing. For a moment, he envied how easy it was for the cigarette to disappear, leaving no trace behind.
Rising to his feet, he wobbled, his legs unsteady beneath him. The wind tugged at his clothes, as if daring him to take the final step. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he tried to block out the chaotic mess of his thoughts.
With his arms slowly outstretched, he leaned forward toward the edge, feeling the pull of gravity calling him, offering an escape.
"Screw it," he muttered under his breath. Even though he was about to end it all, a small, ironic smile crept across his face.
It was finally over...
With that thought, he took a deep breath, dangled one foot over the edge, and then dropped off the ledge.
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