Chapter 3 — The House at the Edge of Konoha
Kazuma and Tenzo walked down the dirt road as the sun dipped low, lighting up Konoha in warm orange.
Shops were sweeping their front steps, lanterns flickered awake, and the smell of grilled fish drifted through the air.
Kids ran past in groups, shouting, laughing, chasing each other with sticks.
Kazuma watched them quietly.
In his old life, there were no children running around with joy.
Only cold mines.
Cold steel.
Cold death.
Tenzo nudged him.
"You look serious again. Are you worrying about the test?"
Kazuma blinked.
"…Maybe."
"Don't worry!" Tenzo puffed his chest. "Even if you faint, I'll drag you home!"
Kazuma sighed.
"With your noodle arms?"
Tenzo froze.
"…WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
Kazuma walked ahead calmly. "I said noodle arms."
Tenzo stomped after him dramatically. "I TAKE IT BACK, I WON'T DRAG YOU! I'LL LEAVE YOU THERE!"
Kazuma didn't smile, but a warmth stirred in his chest.
This brother… this life… felt different.
---
Their House at the Edge of the Village
The wooden gate creaked loudly when Tenzo pushed it open.
Tenzo frowned.
"We seriously need to fix that."
Kazuma looked at the gate.
"It screams louder than you."
Tenzo opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then glared.
Inside the yard stood a crooked old tree and a narrow path to a small, cozy house.
Light smoke curled from the chimney—like a soft welcome home.
Kazuma stepped into the kitchen.
Everything was simple:
small table
tiny stove
slightly broken fridge
two futons in the single bedroom
worn sofa near the window
But it felt warm.
Alive.
Safe.
Tenzo pointed at the wall where a framed photo hung.
A gentle-eyed man with a sword strapped to his back.
"Father," Tenzo said softly. "Yuki Yuta… He was a chunin swordsman."
Kazuma's mind stirred.
In his old life, he had no father.
No one to rely on.
No one to teach him anything.
He touched the photo frame gently.
Tenzo continued, "He made two swords before he died… just for us."
They both approached a wooden stand near the wall.
Two swords lay wrapped in dark cloth.
Tenzo unwrapped one.
The blade gleamed faintly even in the dim light.
Beautiful.
Precise.
Made with care.
Kazuma recognized the forging technique instantly.
"…Land of Iron craftsmanship."
His voice was low.
Tenzo blinked. "Huh?"
Kazuma shook his head.
"Nothing. These swords… they're really good."
Memories of his old sword, the one he died holding, flashed inside him.
The last thing he felt was lightning piercing his chest.
He tightened his grip around the hilt.
---
Training Together
Tenzo took a stance with his sword—shoulders tense, feet too wide.
Kazuma watched silently.
"Your stance is wrong."
Tenzo flinched. "It is?? I learned it from the Academy!"
Kazuma stepped beside him and gently pushed his foot in place.
"No. Like this. Your center of balance should be stable."
Tenzo tried again.
This time better.
Kazuma raised his own sword.
His body was stiff, unfamiliar.
The muscle memory of his old life didn't perfectly match this body.
His swings were slower.
Clumsier.
But he kept going.
Tenzo followed his movements, copying carefully.
They practiced:
basic swings
footwork
balance shifting
simple thrusts
The yard echoed with the sound of wooden steps and clashing steel.
At one point, Tenzo tripped and almost fell—
Kazuma caught him by the collar.
"Again," Kazuma said calmly.
"I'm dying," Tenzo groaned dramatically.
"You'll die more tomorrow."
"BROTHER?!?!"
Kazuma almost smiled.
---
Dinner and Quiet Night
When darkness settled, they finally stopped.
Sweaty, tired, and hungry.
Kazuma cooked dinner—vegetables, rice, and fried fish.
Tenzo kept stealing pieces from the pan.
Kazuma slapped his hand with chopsticks.
"Wait until it's on the plate."
Tenzo held his hand dramatically. "Abused… I am abused in my own home…"
"You'll be abused more if you burn your tongue."
They ate together like starving beasts.
"This is so good!" Tenzo said with cheeks full.
Kazuma nodded quietly.
It felt… peaceful.
After washing up, they lay on their futons.
The room was dim, only a soft lantern glowing.
Tenzo turned toward him.
"Brother… tomorrow we become ninjas."
Kazuma didn't answer immediately.
In the darkness, he thought about the coin.
The old strange coin from his first life.
The one with the two swords and swirling symbol.
The one that shattered when he died…
and pulled his soul into this world.
Was it really random?
Or destiny?
Or something else entirely?
Kazuma closed his eyes.
Maybe… someday… I'll uncover that coin's secret.
"Brother? You awake?" Tenzo whispered.
"Yeah."
Tenzo smiled softly in the dark.
"We'll be okay, right?"
Kazuma looked at the ceiling.
"…Yes. We will."
The night breeze brushed past the window.
Two brothers fell asleep—
alone in the world,
but together in their small home,
and unaware of how far their swords would one day reach.