Chapter 344: Strolling Through Konoha Village After a Long Absence

Aoki lowered his head slightly, trying to conceal the expression on his face. Kurisu only chuckled softly, her shoulders shaking with a subtle tremor, before tightening her hold around Aoki’s left arm, as if she had no intention of letting him go, not even for a heartbeat.

“In that case, let’s just take a walk. I’d also like to meet some acquaintances,” Aoki said, finally shifting the conversation with a faint smile, though the rosy tint on his cheeks had not entirely faded.

“Alright, dear,” Kurisu replied with a gentle nod. Her smile was tender, her voice calm, yet her grip on Aoki’s arm grew firmer, as though she was affirming her sense of ownership over him.

The two of them began to walk down the streets of Konoha village. That morning carried with it a vibrancy—life in its simplest, warmest form seemed to pulse through every corner.

The streets were filled with villagers, each busy with their own affairs. An elderly man with a hunched back was pushing a cart full of roasted sweet potatoes, pausing every so often to catch his breath while wiping the sweat from his brow.

Not far away, a group of children practiced with wooden swords in a small open yard. The rhythmic clack of wood striking wood echoed, blending with the steady footsteps of passersby moving through the lively street.

From the direction of the marketplace came the clamor of bargaining voices, mixing with the metallic clang of pots and pans being struck by a merchant advertising his wares.

The breeze carried with it the irresistible aroma of food—grilled skewers fresh from the fire, smoked meat searing over glowing coals, and the savory scent of hot soup simmering in a large cauldron.

The morning air of Konoha was saturated with these fragrances, stirring the empty stomachs of anyone passing by, urging them to taste the delights.

Near one of the stalls, a group of village women could be seen weighing baskets of fresh fruit. They laughed softly, exchanging light whispers while sneaking occasional glances at Aoki and Kurisu.

There was a faint amusement in their eyes, one difficult to hide, as though they were judging the young couple for walking so closely side by side. Their thin smiles seemed to carry layered meanings, leaving behind a quiet trace of curiosity in anyone who noticed.

Aoki felt his cheeks flush. He lowered his head, attempting to ignore the glances, though the redness had crept up to his ears, betraying his embarrassment. Kurisu, however, appeared utterly unfazed.

Instead, Kurisu lifted her chin slightly higher with composure, meeting the villagers’ looks with a serene yet confident smile.

Her grip on Aoki’s hand grew tighter still, as though she wanted to show the world that the man by her side was hers alone, without any room for doubt.

They continued walking for quite some time, perhaps nearly half an hour, weaving through the bustling alleys of the village. Every so often, Aoki paused in his steps, gazing at the familiar scenery, as though trying to summon memories of the past that still lingered in this place.

At last, their steps came to a halt before a large building, its wooden signboard bearing bold, carved letters: a blacksmith’s workshop. The structure stood firm, its walls reinforced with thick wooden planks, its roof covered with dark tiles.

Thin smoke curled upward from the chimney, carrying with it the distinct scent of heated metal mingling with burning charcoal. From within came the sharp, steady rhythm of hammer striking iron, a sound that resounded like the strong, beating heart of the place.

For Aoki, this was no mere workshop. Kuzan’s forge was a silent witness to his life’s journey. It was here that he had spent countless days and nights, lifting the hammer with young, untested hands, striking steel again and again until it took the form of a sword or spear.

Every spark that once flew beneath his blows still seemed to linger vividly in his memory. From this very place came the craft he later passed on, ensuring that the members of the Kisatsutai were armed with weapons of the finest quality.

As Aoki stood there, the solid wooden door of the shop creaked open. From within emerged an elderly man with a large frame, his muscles still pronounced despite the wear of age.

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