After declaring my official status as “dirt poor orphan,” our lovely instructor announced that an Academy official would be escorting to my very own flat, provided by the village. I was over the moon. My own place. Privacy. Freedom. No screaming kids or sketchy beds with mystery stains. I was already planning out my new life.
Until one horrifying thought hit like a kunai to the brain.
I don’t know how to cook.
Damn it. I knew I forgot sothing important.
We were dismissed with a reminder to show up tomorrow at 7 a.m. sharp. I walked out, half-celebrating, half-panicking about surviving on rice crackers and desperation. The shrimp was still stuck to my back like so clingy curse seal, which was starting to get genuinely annoying. I ignored her for now.
Outside the gates, the clan kids were being sward by their proud, loving parents. Hugs. Tears. Laughter. The whole emotional fireworks show. I saw Shizuru practically bouncing around her parents, her usual dead-eyed expression replaced by an excited sparkle. It was like seeing a rock learn to smile.
Kaen, the angry Uchiha, locked eyes with again. His stare said, “I will win,” like we were rivals in a tournant arc. I had no idea what he thought we were competing in, but he looked like he was about to challenge to a duel in the rain.
He turned to his parents, cold dad, overly affectionate mom. She ambushed him with hugs and kisses like she was making up for lost ti. He turned bright red and tried to escape, only to glance at and catch mocking his predicant with exaggerated air smooches. His rage leveled up.
I stood there looking at the scene with a smile on my face. No one was there for . not even my sister’s soul. I was in a whole other universe Afterall. but I had her na and that was enough for .
“Ahem.”
I turned to see a short, stocky old man with a polite, awkward smile. “I’m with the Academy,” he said. “I’ll be taking you to your new flat since... well, you don’t have one.”
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Ouch. He didn’t need to say it like that. Just read the room, old man.
I nodded and followed him. He tried to make small talk, but I gave him the “emotionally distant orphan” routine and kept my responses short. After a long, silent, slightly awkward walk, we reached the place.
And oh boy.
It wasn’t a palace, but compared to the orphanage? It was a penthouse in a New York skyscraper. A two-room flat on the edge of a residential district. Clean exterior. Quiet surroundings. A little far from the market, but that was fine. It was mine.
Inside, it had a surprisingly decent layout. A main room with space for a table and a corner kitchen. A small but clean bathroom with running water that didn’t co out brown. And the bed? The bed was huge. I nearly shed a tear. It had an actual mattress, a thick blanket, and pillows. Plural. Not the scratchy orphanage hay roll I was used to. Even the sll was nice. Like lilies. Or maybe so kind of herbal cleaner. Either way, it didn’t sll like wet socks and despair.
“This is nice,” I muttered to myself while doing a slow victory lap around the room.
The official gave food rations and a rundown on keeping the place clean. Then he handed my stipend.
And just like that, I beca a wealthy man. Sort of.
I held the money like it was sacred. My first ever cash in this world. I almost bowed. The man told he’d swing by once a month to check on and deliver the next month’s stipend. I actually thanked him. From the heart. Because money.
Once he left, I just stood there. It hit all at once.
Silence. No crying kids. No snoring roommates. No weird slls or threats of random punches.
I was alone. For real.
And I was happy. I an, I’m a very friendly and approachable guy. A people’s person really. But still... alone ti? Glorious.
I explored the place a little more, organized what I had which took 30 seconds, and finally decided it was ti to shop. I had no idea how to cook, so the plan was simple: get only the essentials.
I wandered around the area to get my bearings. Took nearly an hour, but I only saw two shady people, which was a record low based on my orphanage background. Eventually, I found a small food shop tucked between two quiet buildings.
Inside was an old woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile. I grabbed what I needed and headed to the counter.
She stared at my items with visible confusion. “Did your parents send you for just this, dear? You sure you didn’t forget sothing?”
“Nope,” I said, nodding confidently.
She looked concerned. I paid, took my bags, and marched out of there with pride.
Back in the flat, I placed my glorious treasures on the counter. Salt. Sugar. And I already had free water from the tap.
I stood tall and victorious.
“Now... what to do with the change?”
Obviously, the answer was simple.
Buy a chakra paper.
Because I’ve got priorities.
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