"Huh? This is not the way to the orphanage, Oba-san," a young girl piped up, her small hand tugging at the hem of Nono's sleeve as the group of children shuffled down the main road.
Satoru's brows furrowed immediately; his dark eyes narrowed as suspicion stirred in his chest.
'Where is she taking us?'
Around him, the other orphanage children exchanged nervous glances. Their chatter buzzed like bees as uncertainty spread. One of the smaller boys, his hair sticking out in wild tufts, looked up at Midori, the other caretaker accompanying them, and asked, "Where are we going? Aren't we supposed to go back for lunch?"
Midori only gave him a gentle smile, her voice soft and reassuring. "You'll soon find out. Don't worry. It's something good."
Something about the calm way she said it quieted the boy, though not completely. He still muttered under his breath, dragging his feet against the dirt road.
Nono, however, didn't so much as glance at the children as she strode ahead, her pace brisk yet measured. Without turning around, she raised her voice so all of them could hear.
"We will not be going back directly to the orphanage today. I am taking you to a very interesting place."
That, predictably, set off a wave of murmurs.
Satoru felt his confusion deepen, twisting into something sharper— it was unease. His thoughts snapped like a whip.
'She's not going to hand us over to Root, is she?'
The idea burrowed into his head like a parasite, refusing to let go. He couldn't dismiss it, not when he knew too much.
In his past life, he had seen conspiracy theories, documentaries about secret organisations and shadow governments; this world wasn't any different, if anything, it was worse. Root wasn't some theory; it was a very real dagger hidden in Konoha's dark underbelly. And Nono Yakushi's story was tangled with theirs.
'Trust? That's a luxury I can't afford.'
His gaze shifted over the group of children walking beside him. They didn't share his paranoia; they didn't know. They only looked uneasy because their routine was broken.
Satoru exhaled slowly, forcing his thoughts to settle. The truth was harsh, and he carried it alone. In the shinobi world, being an orphan was the lowest of the low standings. He had realised this early. Orphans were tools waiting to be sharpened or cast aside.
Naruto and Sasuke were the only exceptions; both of them, despite their tragedies, had family or clan connections that kept them from being discarded entirely.
Naruto bore the Nine-Tails within him and was the fourth Hokage's son, while Sasuke was of the last remaining Uchiha. Those ties bought them time; time to grow, to blossom into talents the world couldn't ignore.
But the rest? Orphans were at the mercy of others. Their fate was never theirs to decide.
The group wound through the streets until the familiar rooftops of the orphanage sector fell behind them. Soon, they entered another area of the village. Satoru immediately recognised the atmosphere: this was the civilians' quarters. The streets were narrower, lined with modest houses and the hum of daily life— mothers hanging laundry, merchants shouting out their wares, children chasing stray cats down the alleys.
His sharp gaze swept over the surroundings, and he recalled scraps of overheard conversation from the caretakers. The village, they had explained, was divided like a pie chart into clear sectors. The business sector was lively, noisy, and filled with both shinobi and civilians. Next was the hub of trade, which was self-explanatory. It bordered the administrative district, where the Hokage's Tower stood tall alongside the hospital and various offices. Beyond that lay the housing sector; even that had its invisible borders, with many of the shinobi clans occupying their own compounds, ordinary shinobi in less distinguished homes, and civilians corralled in their neighbourhoods. Finally, there were the restricted areas; places not even all shinobi could tread, like the ANBU headquarters, sensitive facilities, and the Hokage's private residence.
'And then there's us,' Satoru thought bitterly. 'The orphans. Stuck at the very bottom of the ladder, with no name, no home, and no backing. The gap between social classes here is a canyon… one misstep and you fall right in.'
Their footsteps slowed as Nono stopped before a modest apartment complex. It wasn't remarkable — a row of square buildings painted in fading beige, with small balconies and narrow staircases running up the sides. The children quieted instinctively, their eyes wide as they looked from the building to Nono.
She turned to face them at last, her expression calm yet carrying a weight that hushed even the whisperers in the back.
"Now that you are academy students," she said, her voice carrying across the group, "you will be released from the orphanage."
The words hit the children like a thrown kunai. Gasps, cries, and confused mutters broke out immediately. One girl clutched at her shirt, eyes brimming with tears. A boy shouted, "Released? What does that mean?"
Ayano stepped forward, her face creased with worry. "Oba-san, what do you mean? We… we're not going back at all?"
Satoru folded his arms across his chest, biting back a dry laugh. 'At least they could have told them earlier,' he thought, watching the small storm of confusion whip up around him.
He had expected this moment eventually; it had simply arrived sooner than he'd anticipated. For children this young, the shock was understandable. For him, it was just another reminder of how the system operated.
Nono raised a hand, steadying the commotion. "Listen. The orphanage accepts new children almost every month. That strains our resources — we do what we can, but it is never enough. The Hokage has decided that orphans who join the academy will be given something of their own: a place to live, and a small monthly stipend of five thousand ryō for basic needs. You will not be abandoned; you will be supported as you walk the path of shinobi."
The revelation stunned the children into silence. A few whispered to each other, the promise of money and independence exciting, even if they didn't fully grasp what it meant.
Satoru, however, lifted a hand. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "What about the ones who don't join the academy?"
Nono looked at him directly, her lips tightening for a moment before she answered. "The village will help them find apprenticeships. Once they have a trade, they will be settled outside of the orphanage. Everyone will have a place."
Satoru lowered his hand, his mind turning the explanation over and over. 'This is definitely Minato's touch', he thought. 'I can't imagine Hiruzen caring this much about civilian orphans. No… this reeks of Minato's idealism. He wants to give even the lowest a chance.'
The caretakers moved efficiently, dividing the children into smaller groups. Each cluster was handed a pair of keys, and with quiet instructions, the caretakers pointed them toward specific apartments. Nervous chatter replaced the earlier unrest; the children's fear was softening into excitement at the idea of having something that was theirs alone.
Nono added as they dispersed, "Remember, you are always welcome to visit the orphanage. This is not a severing of ties. If you need help moving, we will be there for you."
Her words soothed some of the younger ones, though their eyes still darted about as if searching for reassurance.
Finally, Akari approached Satoru. She pressed a small, cool set of keys into his palm. "Yours is on the third floor, second door on the left," she instructed.
"Go on. See it for yourself."
Satoru gave a curt nod, pocketing the keys before heading toward the staircase. Each step creaked faintly beneath his feet as he ascended, his hand brushing against the worn railing. He found the door easily enough, the key sliding into the lock with a faint click.
The hinges groaned as he pushed it open.
Inside, the apartment was almost bare. The walls were plain and undecorated; the wooden floor showed faint scratches of age. The only piece of furniture was a simple bed in the corner, its mattress wrapped in a thin sheet. Dust motes swirled lazily in the air as the door shut behind him.
Satoru looked around, a long breath escaping his chest. He blew a raspberry, the sound sharp in the silence. "Pffft. I guess this is my new home."
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