The smell of warm rice and miso filled the small kitchen as Murakami moved with practiced ease, his hands working in sync with Hoshino-san.
The now aging caretaker of the orphanage gave him a tired but fond smile as she stirred a pot of soup.
"You're up early again, Murakami-kun," Hoshino-san said, not with concern, but with that familiar mix of amusement and exasperation.
"At this rate, the kids will start thinking you're the one running this place."
Murakami didn't look up from the pot as he adjusted the flame. "If I were running this place, half of them would be doing morning drills before breakfast."
"Oh, heaven forbid," she muttered with a light sigh. "Let them eat properly first before you turn them into soldiers."
He smirked. "Then start waking up before me. You're setting a bad example."
Hoshino-san snorted. "Please. You'd still be here even if I slept in until noon."
"Maybe," he conceded, tasting the broth. "But I'd pretend to complain about it."
She rolled her eyes, but the fondness was unmistakable. "Just make sure you're not overworking yourself. The children rely on you more than you think."
Murakami shrugged lightly. "That's exactly why I'm here."
Hoshino-san chuckled, shaking her head. "At least you're useful in the kitchen. Unlike some of the others who only show up when they smell food."
As if summoned by her words, a small head peeked around the doorway.
"Is breakfast ready?"
Murakami turned slightly to see Ichiro, one of the younger boys, staring with wide, eager eyes. His short brown hair stuck out at odd angles, and his oversized shirt made him look even smaller.
"Almost," Murakami said, smirking as he lifted the ladle like a weapon. "Unless you want to be the first to taste it straight from the pot."
Ichiro squeaked and vanished behind the door frame…then peeked again. "I don't mind being first!"
Hoshino-san let out a laugh, already plating the food. "Murakami, take this to the table, will you? The others will start swarming soon."
He nodded, grabbing a couple of trays before heading out to the dining area.
The large table in the center of the room was already filled with sleepy children whose faces brightened instantly at the sight of food.
"Murakami-nii, sit here!"
"I saved you a spot!"
"Hey, don't hog all the rice!"
Murakami set the trays down and ruffled the hair of a pouting girl, Emi, who glared at an older boy trying to swipe her portion. "Relax. Everyone gets their share. No stealing."
He took his seat among them, immediately surrounded by their excited chatter. It was nothing new. Whether as an older brother, a leader, or simply someone dependable, Murakami naturally drew everyone's attention.
"Murakami-nii, are you going to teach us cool ninja moves soon?" Ichiro asked between mouthfuls of rice.
Murakami raised an eyebrow. "You do realize I'm still learning too, right?"
"But you're already better than most of us!" Daichi chimed in.
Murakami rolled his eyes, waving off the compliment. "That doesn't mean I can teach you everything I know."
"Why not?" Emi asked, blinking innocently.
"Because some things need to be learned properly," he replied, setting down his chopsticks. "Step by step. You can't skip ahead."
"Ugh, but that's so slow," Ichiro groaned.
Murakami chuckled. "You'll appreciate it later."
Breakfast continued with its usual lively banter, and once finished, the younger kids took charge of cleaning up while those heading to the academy grabbed their things and filed out together.
…
The streets of Konoha were lively as always, bathed in warm morning light as Murakami walked with his usual group of orphans, their chatter filling the air.
"I hope today's lesson isn't just more writing," one of the kids, Haruto, groaned as the topic came up
"Exactly! We're Shinobi," Aiko complained. "Why do we even need essays?"
"Because strategy and planning are just as important as fighting," Murakami answered. "You can't win if you don't think."
'Not to mention mission reports. But that was a problem for future shinobi.' He added inwardly.
"That sounds like something a nerd would say." Another kid said.
Murakami smirked. "And I'm the nerd who keeps beating you in spars."
That shut them up for a moment.
"I wish we could learn more actual techniques," Aiko sighed. "If only we had money, then we could buy technique scrolls."
Murakami froze mid-step.
Scrolls?
Technique scrolls?
He had been so focused on the academy curriculum that he'd never once considered buying jutsu on his own.
But of course, this world wasn't a neat system where knowledge was handed out evenly. With money and connections, anyone could get access to techniques.
Why hadn't he thought of this before?
His mind kicked into motion instantly.
Hina would know. She handled the Lotus Store's finances, and gathering information on purchasable jutsu wouldn't be difficult for her.
He made a mental note to stop by the shop later.
"Murakami-nii?"
He snapped out of his thoughts, noticing the group staring at him.
"You okay?" Aiko asked.
"Yeah," he replied, clearing his throat. "Just thinking."
Haruto smirked. "About what? Some new secret training plan?"
Murakami chuckled. "Maybe."
"Not fair!" they all groaned.
He continued walking toward the academy, a faint smirk on his face. Today's lessons suddenly felt less important compared to what he had just realized.
There was more than one way to get ahead in this world.
And Murakami intended to use every advantage available.
…
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activities and when it came to the theory, Arata-sensei's voice droned somewhere in the background, but Murakami barely absorbed a word he said.
His thoughts were still caught on the realization from earlier, jutsu scrolls could be bought. This wasn't canon knowledge but if that was true, then waiting for the academy or village to slowly hand out techniques suddenly felt like a waste of precious time.
The Shockwave Jutsu was a good foundation, but it wasn't enough. It could be dissected, yes, but without fundamental knowledge of how other techniques shaped chakra, compressed it, rotated it, layered it, or transformed it, his understanding would always be limited.
A single technique, no matter how thoroughly mastered, could only teach so much. To evolve, he needed variety. He needed contrast. He needed patterns.
With access to other techniques, especially ones that matched his budding combat style, his progress could skyrocket.
He already knew he was ahead of his peers in chakra control, analysis, and theoretical understanding.
But technique-wise? He was held back by whatever the academy decided to teach.
That needed to change.
So the moment the last instructor of the day dismissed the class, Murakami was the first one out the door.
…
The market district greeted him with its usual liveliness.
Vendors shouted over one another, civilians argued good-naturedly over prices, and the smell of grilled meat mingled with fresh vegetables and warm parchment.
Shinobi passed through the crowd with the quiet confidence of people who belonged everywhere and nowhere at once.
But Murakami's attention was fixed on one destination; The Lotus Store.
After turning a corner, he reached the newly renovated building. The structure rose two stories high, its polished wooden exterior gleaming under the afternoon sun.
Above the entrance hung the Lotus Store insignia, a golden lotus flower sat elegantly.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The place was bustling. Customers browsed shelf after shelf, examining goods while Ŕyo notes changed hands with steady rhythm.
High-quality fabrics, preserved medicinal herbs, calligraphy supplies, ink, paper, and other essentials lined the walls in precise order.
Every display was immaculate, a deliberate contrast to the clutter found in most market stalls.
Murakami's modern mindset played a part in the shop's layout and arrangement, everything was organized to guide the eye, control foot traffic, and subtly encourage customers to buy more without feeling pressured.
Clean sight lines, grouped categories, and strategic placement of popular items near the center created a natural flow through the store.
It was the kind of quiet efficiency that didn't exist in most shops of this era, but here, it made the Lotus Store feel less like a market stall and more like a refined, future-leaning establishment.
The salesgirls, dressed in refined green kimono, moved gracefully among the aisles.
Their smiles were professional, their manner confident, each one well-trained and perfectly at home in the setting.
Murakami nodded in satisfaction. The store looked exactly the way he had envisioned it when he first took ownership.
Without wasting time, he headed toward the back office; Hina's domain.
…
Hina was seated behind a polished wooden desk, flipping through a series of ledgers. Her dark hair was tied neatly, and the simple yet elegant kimono she wore suited her role perfectly.
When Murakami stepped into the office, she glanced up, then paused as a small smirk tugged at her lips.
"You're early today, Murakami-sama."
He frowned at the honorific. "You don't have to call me that."
"I do when we're in the office," she teased, motioning for him to take a seat. "So, what brings you here in such a hurry?"
Murakami shook his head and sat across from her, leaning back slightly. "I need information on purchasing jutsu scrolls, what's available, how much they cost, where to get them."
Hina raised a brow. "Straight to business? Not even a 'how's the store doing?'"
He sighed, knowing she wouldn't move on until he asked. "Fine. Give me an update."
Her smirk widened as she pulled out a thick scroll and spread it across the table. "Here's where we stand:
The Lotus Store's Main Branch has been averaging 2,300,000 ryo per week, with around 1,500,000 ryo in net profit.
The West District Branch pulls in 1,700,000 ryo weekly, with roughly 1,100,000 ryo in profit.
The South District Branch, being the newest, brings in about 1,200,000 ryo per week, with a net profit hovering around 750,000 ryo.
Altogether, that's roughly 5,200,000 ryo in weekly revenue and about 3,350,000 ryo in total profit."
Murakami nodded, unable to hide his satisfaction. "Not bad."
"Of course not. I run the place," she replied smugly.
He ignored the jab. "So how much excess cash do I have?"
Flipping to another page, she scanned the numbers. "After accounting for emergency reserves, restocking cost, and expansion funds, you currently have 19,800,000 ryo at your personal disposal."
Murakami whistled in amazement. "More than I expected."
"You barely spend outside of the store and the orphanage," she reminded him. "If you weren't saving this much, I'd be concerned."
He smirked slightly. "Well, I might spend a good chunk of it soon."
Her eyebrow rose. "On what?"
"Jutsu scrolls. What are the prices?"
Seeing he was serious, she reached for another document. "Alright. Here's the breakdown:
D-Rank Jutsu Scrolls – 10,000 ryo
C-Rank Jutsu Scrolls – 100,000 ryo
B-Rank Jutsu Scrolls – 1,000,000 ryo
A-Rank Jutsu Scrolls – 10,000,000 ryo"
Murakami stared at the list. The price leap between each tier was absurd.
"So a single A-Rank scroll costs more than half my available funds?" he said flatly.
Hina nodded. "And that's for common techniques. Rare or restricted ones go for much more."
He rubbed his temple, thinking. D-Rank scrolls were cheap enough to buy in bulk. C-Rank was manageable. B-Rank was where the investment became serious. But A-Rank…that was a commitment.
"I assume S-Rank scrolls aren't on the market."
"Not legally," Hina answered. "Those are village secrets, clan techniques or high-level-only jutsu."
Murakami hummed in thought as he already had an idea on that. There were options, a path forward, a way to expand his arsenal far beyond the academy's drip-feed curriculum.
He exhaled, pushing himself up from the chair. "Compile a list of available techniques and their descriptions."
"Give me until tomorrow," she replied.
"Good. I'll be back then."
Murakami left the office and glanced toward the bustling store floor. The Lotus Store was thriving, and so was he.
If power had a price, then he was more than willing to pay as long as he didn't remain weak.