The smirk didn't leave Tendo's face until he reached his apartment door.
The windfall from the Konoha-Style Taijutsu reward had exceeded his wildest expectations. He could feel the change in his sinews, a newfound fluidity that suggested he could easily pass a Special Jonin evaluation for hand-to-hand combat.
As for Mizuki—Tendo's internal "favorability meter" for the man had shifted from Indifferent to Useful Asset. If the silver-haired chunin kept offering himself up as a punching bag for missions, Tendo might actually start to like the guy.
"You're in a rare mood today. I can hear you smiling from the hallway."
A mature, slightly raspy female voice vibrated through the air. Tendo turned his head, his grin softening into something more genuine.
Leaning against his doorframe was a vision in lilac. Yūgao Uzuki stood there in casual loungewear, her damp purple hair clinging to her shoulders after a fresh shower. The loose fabric of her robes did little to obscure the lethal, soft curves of a woman who spent her days dancing with a blade. She looked less like an elite operative and more like a masterpiece of classical art.
"Sister Yūgao. You're home early."
Tendo had always been partial to her voice—it was low and melodic, like the distant chime of wind bells.
She offered a tired but gentle smile. "Mhm. I have a long-range deployment tomorrow, so the Captain granted us the night off. Don't worry, it's just a routine border patrol—nothing high-stakes. I just finished dinner and realized I'd made far too much for one person. You haven't eaten, have you?"
"I'm starving," Tendo lied smoothly, stepping into her apartment.
The table was set with four dishes and a steaming soup—every single one of them a personal favorite of his. This was no accident. The two had been inseparable since childhood; their parents had been close friends who perished together during the Nine-Tails' rampage. Left as orphans in a cold village, they had become each other's world.
Yūgao, three years his senior, had always played the role of the protective older sister. But as she ascended into the elite ranks of the Anbu and he settled into the "peace" of administrative work, their time together had become a precious commodity.
[Latest Mission: The Uchiha bloodline must not end!]
[Objective: Rebuild the clan from the roots up. Ensure the Sharingan blooms in a new generation. Include Yūgao Uzuki in the Uchiha registry.]
[Stage One Reward (Intimate Contact): Konoha-Style Kenjutsu.]
[Stage Two Reward (Defeat/Conquest): Yang Release Chakra Enhancement.]
A translucent HUD flickered into Tendo's vision. He paused, a piece of braised pork halfway to his mouth. Seriously? This is the mission? You're making this too easy, System.
He masked his internal sneer with a look of feigned distress.
"What is it?" Yūgao asked, setting her chopsticks down with immediate concern. "Is the seasoning off?"
"The soup," Tendo murmured, leaning back. "It's a bit... salty."
"Really?" Yūgao frowned, standing up and leaning over him to take a sip from his spoon. "I was so careful with the measurements this time. Did I—"
As she drew close, the scent of citrus soap and warm skin filled Tendo's senses. The small kitchen felt suddenly, electrically cramped. Tendo didn't hesitate. He reached out, pulling her firmly onto his lap.
Yūgao gasped, her eyes widening for a heartbeat before she saw the look in his gaze. She didn't pull away. Instead, she let out a soft, shaky breath and closed her eyes as he leaned in to bridge the gap.
The kiss was long, breathless, and tasted of lingering salt and sweetness. When they finally broke apart, Yūgao's hands were trembling slightly as they clutched his collar, her face flushed a deep crimson.
[Stage One Complete: Konoha-Style Kenjutsu awarded. Claim now?]
Not yet, Tendo thought, keeping his focus on the woman in his arms. "On second thought," he whispered against her lips, "the soup is perfect."
"You... you're a menace," Yūgao breathed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. She was used to his sudden flashes of boldness, but it never failed to leave her heart racing.
It wasn't until the moon was high in the sky that Tendo finally slipped out of her room. He had to stop. Yūgao was a Kenjutsu master, but she was also a Water Release specialist—the "intimate contact" had left her physically drained. With a mission at dawn, he couldn't afford to let her go out exhausted.
Back in his own apartment, he gave the mental command.
Claim reward.
A tidal wave of martial theory crashed into his brain. It wasn't just muscle memory; it was the philosophy of the blade—the precise angle of a draw, the fluid transition between parry and riposte, and the hidden techniques of the Leaf's greatest swordsmen. In one silent moment, he had evolved from a novice to a master.
The following morning, Tendo sauntered toward the Hokage Building at a leisurely eight o'clock.
Yūgao had already departed for her mission, leaving a warm breakfast waiting for him. Fueled by "the breakfast of love," he arrived at his office: the Agricultural Machinery Research Class.
His current project? The Wind Release Harvester.
It sounded like the title of a bizarre parody, but it was Tendo's bread and butter. The technology tree of the Naruto world was a nonsensical mess—they had wireless radios and refrigerators but still used medieval farming tools. The elite kept the high-tech toys for war, leaving the commoners in the dirt.
Tendo had carved out a niche for himself by "innovating" for the upper class. By turning Ninjutsu into mechanized labor, he'd gained the patronage of Inuzuka Akita, his superior. He knew Akita would eventually lead the Scientific Ninja Weapons Team in the future; he'd "accidentally" let her see his research notes to ensure he was on the ground floor of that development.
Actual ninja weapons were too controversial right now. But a harvester? That was "peaceful progress" the elders could ignore.
Tendo sat at his desk, spinning a pen. The third prototype of the harvester was in testing, leaving him with plenty of free time to scheme.
I need to pad the next funding report, he mused, rubbing his chin. I'll cite 'Chakra Metal degradation.' If Edison could waste thousands of filaments on a lightbulb, I can definitely 'waste' enough high-grade scrap to forge a custom katana on the side.
He reached for his teacup, ready to brew some medicinal tea to sustain his "delicate" constitution.
Suddenly, the air in the room grew heavy. Two massive, suffocating waves of pressure descended from behind him. Tendo's hand froze. He slowly turned his head.
Standing there with a face like a thundercloud was Inuzuka Akita.
"Tendo," she growled, her voice vibrating with suppressed fury. "Your secret is out. Come with me. Now."
Tendo blinked. Wait. I haven't even submitted the fraudulent funding request yet. How fast is this woman?