"In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? No, it is we who forge our own paths."
— Narrator, Berserk
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Location: Konoha – Late Morning
After taking on the mission, Otis decided to pick up some supplies and check on the weapons he'd commissioned.The sun peeked through narrow alley gaps, casting flickering light over stalls, food carts, and vendors.
His first stop was a familiar one. Morie's shop
The bell above the door jingled as he stepped in.
Inside, the air smelled like dried herbs and old wood. Morie, hunched behind the counter and adjusting her glasses, and glanced up.
"Back from your mission, Otis?" she said, half-smiling.
He gave a nod. "Need supplies. The usual… plus some extra field rations."
Otis passed her a few coins and, with a polite nod, stepped back into the street.
A few blocks further down, was a shop with hanging scrolls that read:
"Custom Ninja Tools Since the First Shinobi War"
The bell above the door chimed softly as Otis stepped into the shop. It was warm from the forge in the back, the air was filled with the scent of iron and oil. At the counter stood a girl just a little older than Hinata—with her hair tied into two small buns and she wore a workshop apron, her hands still slightly darkened from working with metal. She was examining the edge of a kunai, tilting it slightly under the light, her eyes narrowed
She looked up and offered a polite smile.
"Welcome! How can I help you?"
Otis rested an elbow on the counter.
"I placed an order for some custom gear and weapons. Name's Otis."
The girl nodded and turned to check a thick, grease-stained ledger behind the counter. Just as she began flipping through the pages, a man's voice came from behind the forge curtain.
"Otis, huh? Thought I recognized that voice."
A broad-shouldered man stepped out from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. He had soot on his arms
"Your order's ready," the man said, wiping his hands on a cloth as he stepped out from the back. Then he nodded toward the girl beside him.
"This is my daughter, Tenten. She's in her third year at the Ninja Academy. Good with scrolls, with weapons… and a little too talkative."
Tenten shot her father a look. "Hey!"
He just chuckled, and then disappeared into the back again to get the gear, and Tenten leaned forward slightly over the counter.
"So… you're a ninja," she said, leaning forward slightly, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Which weapon do you use? No—wait—I know! Those sphere-like balls. I helped my dad make them. I even polished them."
Otis raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.
She grinned proudly. "They're pretty cool."
Before she could say more, her father returned, carrying a heavy crate and a wrapped bundle.
"Here we are—just as you asked." He set it on the counter with a grunt and said with pride. "Exactly as requested."
Otis stepped closer.
Inside were:
A pair of weighted gloves, built with dense iron layering inside the palms and knuckles.
A custom bandolier, loaded with pouches
Three Belts designed to hold custom metal spheres, sorted by size:30 small metal spheres — the size of golf balls,30 medium spheres — about the size of baseballs,2 large spheres, nearly the size of basketballs,
Each ball was made of dense alloy, forged to be as heavy as it can be—far beyond what a normal chunin would even think to carry.
Pouches for each category:
One for golf-ball-sized metal orbs.
One for baseball-sized.
One for regular throwing stones.
A large looped belt to hold the two basketball-sized metal balls securely across his back.
A separate emergency stone pouch, for mixed-size stones and quick-latch clips.
Each sphere had been crafted exactly to Otis's specifications—from the grip texture to the way it sat in the pouch
"And here's the sling," her father said, holding up the final piece—a reinforced leather cradle with braided cords, designed for precision and high-velocity throws.
A Shepherd sling
(Pic)
Tenten whistled as she looked over the gear.
"This is insane… You're like a walking armory."
Otis took the gear in silence, checking the balance and weight of each set
"Perfect," he said quietly.
Her father gave a satisfied grunt. "Glad you think so. Most folks don't ask for tools this wild. You're either a genius—or nuts."
Otis gave him a respectful nod and started strapping the gear on, adjusting each belt and pouch
Tenten leaned in a little, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Hey… can I see you throw them sometime? Just curious."
Otis looked at her for a moment, then said simply, "You can come by the river. After a month."
She blinked, then smiled,
After that, Otis completed the full payment.
He was happy — the weapons were perfect, just as he wanted.
But as he stepped outside and reached into his pocket…
His fingers brushed nothing but the fabric lining. Empty.
He stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the sky.
"…It hurts," he muttered, a single tear escaping. "Why does good craftsmanship cost so much?"
Location: Otis's Hut – Early Afternoon
After collecting his supplies and custom gear, Otis made one last stop—home.
The door creaked open as Otis stepped inside his hut.
His eyes settled on the axe resting against the far wall.
He walked over, blade, grip, balance and handle worn smooth from use. check, he slung it across his back.
One mission scroll. New gear secured. Axe in hand.
He was ready.
***
Location: Konoha Gate – Moments Later
Otis approached the village gates, axe strapped across his back, gear rattling with each step. The two guards on duty looked up, already smirking like they'd been waiting for him.
Guard 1 leaned on his spear. "Back out again, Otis? You ever think about staying inside the village like a normal person?"
Guard 2 chuckled. "At this point, I'm convinced he only comes back to resupply—and remind us we're soft for living in the village."
Otis didn't slow down. "You're not just soft. You're useless."
Guard 1 laughed. "That's rich coming from a man who talks to trees."
Otis replied without turning, "Better than talking to you and sleeping near your snoring."
Guard 2 sighed dramatically. "If he ever brings back a wife, she's gonna be a wolf."
Otis raised a hand lazily. "At least she'll listen."
--
(A/N)
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