The assessment was over. Uchiha Yujin left first.
Time was tight, and he didn't have the luxury to chat with a bunch of little kids about meaningless things.
With the last bit of living expenses he had earned from working at a restaurant tucked in his pocket, he headed to the Uchiha Clan's ninja tool shop.
When it came to the most profitable shops in Konoha, the rankings were clear.
In second place was Konoha Book Shop, famous for selling manga and novels.
Third was the ever-popular Ichiraku Ramen.
But the top spot? That had always belonged to the ninja tool store.
The consumption of ninja tools was massive.
A single chunin could go through hundreds of shuriken in just one year.
With such high demand and profit, it would make sense for many people to get involved in the business.
Strangely, though, there weren't many ninja tool shops in the village.
And the cheapest one among them all was the Uchiha Clan's own shop.
In the past, Uchiha Yujin had spent an entire year's worth of living expenses just buying shuriken for practice.
He was very familiar with the shop owner and had even bought on credit twice before.
"Yo, it's Yujin. What are you buying today?"
The shopkeeper, Uchiha Sumio, was a big, round man.
The moment he saw Yujin walk in, his face lit up with enthusiasm.
He knew Yujin was an orphan with no parents, so he always looked out for him.
"Boss, I don't have enough money right now, but I promise I'll pay you back once I earn some. I want that one."
Uchiha Sumio followed Yujin's pointing finger and looked back at the giant shuriken hanging on the wall.
The corner of his mouth twitched twice.
"You want that? That thing's taller than you. What do you need it for? It's meant for Sharingan users in the clan who use the Sharingan Windmill Triple Attack. It's useless to you."
Just then, a few more customers entered the store.
A group of six, each one wearing a forehead protector.
They glanced at the owner and began browsing the shelves.
As for Uchiha Yujin, no one even paid attention to a kid like him.
"Boss, I really want that one. Is that okay?"
"Don't make trouble. Can't you see how many customers I've got right now?"
"I'm not causing trouble. I really want this. Can I buy it on credit?"
Uchiha Sumio frowned.
"You little brat. I told you already. That tool is meant for clan members who have awakened their Sharingan. It's used alongside the ninjutsu of Sharingan Windmill Triple Attack. Why would you need it? On top of that, you're asking to buy it on credit? Even if you paid in full, I still wouldn't sell it to you!"
His frustration was evident, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.
Nearby, six shinobi turned their heads toward the commotion.
"S-Sorry!" Uchiha Sumio bowed deeply, nearly a perfect ninety-degree angle.
Uchiha Yujin didn't react to the bow. He was thinking.
"So what you're saying is... the reason you won't sell it to me isn't because I want to buy on credit—it's because the tool is only meant for those who've awakened their Sharingan, right?"
The shopkeeper sighed.
"You stubborn kid... If you awaken your Sharingan one day, I might just give you one for free."
Uchiha Yujin slapped all the money he had onto the table.
"No need to gift it. I'm buying it."
Just then, a short-haired Uchiha with no eyebrows walked over to the counter, his voice sharp.
"Brat. You're being noisy. Get lost."
Yujin didn't flinch.
He looked up at the man briefly, then turned back to the shopkeeper.
He stretched out his hand.
"This is all the money I have right now. I'll pay the rest back in full—ten months from now."
The man with no eyebrows snapped.
"Why can't you understand plain words?"
He jabbed a finger toward the massive shuriken hanging on the wall.
"That thing? You need to awaken your Sharingan to use it, understand? Now get out!"
Yujin stood his ground, silent.
He wasn't one to stir up trouble for no reason.
But...
If he wanted to counter the Uchiha clan's techniques—he would need a reason.
Maybe a conflict with another clan member?
The silence stretched.
The browless Uchiha's patience finally snapped.
"Damn brat! Have you even awakened Sharingan?!"
Crimson Sharingan flared, locking eyes with Yujin, filled with disdain and warning.
"Ah! He's just a stubborn kid!" Uchiha Sumio jumped between them, panic flashing in his eyes.
"With eyes like these, even if you live to be fifty, there's no guarantee you'll ever awaken them!"
The man spat on the ground.
"So take your ridiculous dreams and stuff them down, brat!"
"Don't let brats like that into the shop again. They ruin my mood!"
"Okay, okay! Yes, yes! I understand!"
He turned his gaze toward Uchiha Yujin. "Don't make me take over your parents' job and teach you a lesson. Get lost already!"
At that moment, an unfamiliar voice interrupted.
"Oh? The eyes you said a fifty-year-old could never have—are you talking about these?" He pointed to his own eyes as everyone looked on, dumbfounded.
- - - -
The rain had just stopped in Queens' Black community. The air was thick with dampness and rot.
Puddles still lingered on the streets, reflecting the yellow glow of street lamps like shattered mirrors, showing the exhaustion and helplessness of this neighborhood.
Dead leaves, trash, and unspeakable filth floated in the dirty water, releasing a stench that made one's stomach churn.
That odor, mixed with the damp earth, moldy walls, and decaying building materials, created a unique but unpleasant atmosphere.
The buildings lining the streets were in disrepair. Paint peeled from their surfaces, revealing crumbling bricks beneath, like time had carved scars onto their faces.
Some windows were shattered and sealed haphazardly with wooden boards. Through the gaps, dark, lifeless rooms could be glimpsed—each one seeming to hide secrets better left buried.
In the corners of the community, homeless people curled up inside wet cardboard boxes and filthy rags. Their eyes were empty and dazed, as if they had long accepted this forgotten corner of the world.
Children splashed through the water, laughing as they played. But even their joy couldn't drown out the dreariness and decay of the neighborhood.
Stephen Yujin walked by with a bottle of chilled cola in hand. He looked at the idle Black thugs around and clicked his tongue in disdain.
Who said the moon's rounder here?
Isn't it the same damn thing?
He passed a gun store and made his way into the Asian supermarket next door.
As soon as he walked in, the shop owner, Auntie Li, called out to him.
"Ah, Yujin, found a job yet?"
"Sigh, don't even bring it up! The burger joint's back kitchen won't take me. They got a new 'immigrant.' The guy works for just food and board—no salary. How am I supposed to compete with that?"
"Ai, us Asian always get stuck like this." Auntie Lin gave a helpless smile. "Tell you what, once my niece leaves in a few days, you can stay in the upstairs room for a while."
"That won't do." Stephen Yujin shook his head immediately. "I've already stayed here long enough. Don't worry about me. I can survive~"
"Alright then. Take a look and see what you want to eat. Auntie's treating."
"Then I'll grab the catfish!"
"You little brat."
As the two chatted, three young Black men pushed open the door and walked in.
The trio looked around the store, their eyes lingering for a moment on the security cameras. One of them deliberately pulled his cap lower to cover his face.
With behavior like that, anyone with half a brain could tell what they were about to do.
Anyone running a store in a Black neighborhood wasn't blind.
Auntie Lin immediately moved to press the silent alarm button.
"Don't move!"
A cold, black gun barrel pointed straight at Auntie Lin behind the counter. "If you even think about moving—"
The man hadn't even finished his sentence.
"Agh! F-F-F*ck!"
The pistol clattered to the floor as he cried out in pain, clutching his wrist. His two companions stood there, stunned, staring at him.
At some point—no one knew when—a dusty compass had stabbed into his wrist.
[$3]
The price tag on the compass was still attached.
*********
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