Chapter 92: Fifteen Million Ryō

Much later, Tonbo and Ayame returned to the children's room after restoring every sign of disorder. Tenyu and Maki lay peacefully in their cradles, and both parents released the same relieved breath. 

Rather than risk waking them by carrying them elsewhere, Tonbo and Ayame spread bedding on the floor and fell asleep beside the cradles. Only then did the twins open their eyes. They turned toward one another and exchanged soft, conspiratorial sounds. 

The following morning, Naruto prepared his favorite instant ramen in his apartment. Two small figures stood beside the cup: one represented Tonbo with his face uncovered, while a smaller Naruto held the man's hand. The two woven figures were joined together. Tonbo had given him the model before he left. 

"When I learn to use chakra, it'll talk," Naruto told the empty room. "Uncle Tonbo said it was one of his greatest works." 

He did not understand what the little construct would say, nor why its creator had repeated *greatest* three times with such seriousness. None of that mattered. No one had given him a present before. 

For now the figures remained silent. He would have to enter the Academy and learn to mold chakra first. He touched the smaller figure with one fingertip, careful not to stain it with broth. 

At Ichiraku, Togekei sat at the counter spinning the five-sided metal token between his fingers. Teuchi placed a steaming bowl before him, and the young chūnin thanked him before attacking the noodles. 

"Has Teacher said when he'll arrive?" Togekei asked. 

"This morning," Teuchi said. "His children may have revised the schedule." 

"My children are models of discipline." 

Tonbo entered behind them, smiling. Tenyu and Maki rarely cried without cause, slept well, and had so far refrained from destroying the house. He considered that an excellent record. The Fourth's son Naruto, the Third's grandson Konohamaru, even the future Seventh's son Boruto—all such troublesome children. His own were much easier. 

Togekei looked him over. "Teacher, you seem unusually refreshed." 

"A proper meal and a night in one's own home can work wonders." Tonbo took the stool beside him. "Speaking of domestic happiness, you're sixteen now. Have you considered finding a girlfriend?" 

"You're only two years older than I am. Stop speaking as if you're an elder arranging my future." 

"When I was your age, I had already recognized the importance of planning ahead." 

"You spent half that time hiding behind bandages and frightening people." 

"And yet I married successfully. Evidence favors my methods." 

Teuchi turned away to hide a smile as Tonbo leaned one elbow on the counter. "I know a kunoichi your age. An excellent girl. I could introduce you." 

Togekei narrowed his eyes. "Do I know her?" 

"Where would be the pleasure in telling you now? If the two of you suit each other, excellent. If not, perhaps she and Iruka or Mibu might become friends." 

"You're offering the same introduction to three people?" 

"I am creating opportunities, not assigning missions." 

Togekei had seen the ease between Tonbo and Ayame often enough to understand the temptation. He sighed, but did not refuse. 

"Fine. Introduce us when there is time." 

"A sensible answer." Tonbo extended his hand. "Now return Borrowed Instinct." 

Togekei set the heavy metal plate on the counter. Its markings were dormant, the immense structure of encoded experience spent during the encounter with the masked man. 

"Can you make me another?" Togekei asked. Tonbo struck him lightly on the crown. 

"Do you imagine these grow on trees? The plate is chakra-conductive metal, and expensive enough without the work I put into it. You know what that much metal costs." 

As a weapons specialist, Togekei knew precisely. His expression became pained. Twice the value of every weapon he owned would barely pay for the material on the counter. 

"That explains why it felt wrong for an ordinary storage plate," he admitted. 

"It also takes roughly half a month of exhausting preparation to arrange the technique. More importantly, you are a chūnin approaching special jōnin. A safeguard that lends you my reactions is useful once. Depending upon it would arrest your own growth." 

Togekei ran a thumb over the dead seal. Borrowed Instinct had saved Murakumo and allowed him to survive an opponent he could scarcely touch. He also remembered the dizziness when it ended. 

"Understood." 

Tonbo collected the plate. "Good. Then we can review the Amegakure mission. Start with the first decision you would change." 

They spent the rest of the morning reviewing the operation, its successes and its failures. Tonbo pointed out where Togekei could improve and where he had done well. 

Afterward, Tonbo worked half a day at Ichiraku before visiting Konoha's Resource Department. The clerk verified the mission designation, his command role, and the final report, then transferred his payment. 

Fifteen million ryō. 

Togekei's share amounted to eight million. Even Tonbo's larger reward would purchase only a modest quantity of high-grade chakra metal. 

He weighed the payment record in one hand. Between his jōnin salary, wartime earnings, and mission rewards, he was no longer dependent upon Ayame's income or Tōsei's generosity. Unfortunately, his techniques consumed money nearly as quickly as he earned it. His monthly salary was five hundred thousand ryō; a single storage scroll could swallow all of it. Storage scrolls, sealing ink, medicines, replacement weapons, and specialized material all turned survival into an expensive profession. 

Asuma's chakra blades alone were worth more than Tonbo owned. He remembered the Uchiha family struggling with a mortgage in the future, and Chōji eating his way through Asuma's wallet. Being a shinobi was expensive. 

Still, fifteen million ryō would help, and he left the department in an excellent mood. 

"If I fail five laps, I'll do fifteen hundred kicks! One, two! One, two!" 

The familiar declaration came from the road ahead. Tonbo extended his awareness and found a man in a green jumpsuit advancing on his hands, bowl-cut hair pointing toward the ground. Might Guy had converted the road into a public test of endurance. Tonbo altered course by three degrees and kept walking. 

His replacement bandages were not yet ready. The material had to carry the seal structure for Sensory Saturation; ordinary cloth was unsuitable. Until then, he moved through Konoha barefaced, and most acquaintances needed a second look to recognize him. 

Guy, he hoped, would be concentrating too fiercely on his hands to take that look. 

"Tonbo!" 

The handstand stopped without warning. Guy twisted, landed upright, and revealed a smile bright enough to constitute a signal flare. 

"It has been too long! Will you join me in a passionate race around the village on our hands?" 

Tonbo considered the fifteen million ryō in his account, his recovered family, and every life-threatening moment he had survived in Amegakure. 

None of it had prepared him for this.