A scorching summer noon—the kind where the heat settles on your skin like an unwelcome seal—always felt unbearable. And the post-lunch drowsiness? Even worse.
"You should really master Ice Release already, Tsubaki. Just make a few ice cubes with chakra, and we'll both be cool."
Mizuki sighed, slouched beside the window. In a world where chakra-powered prosthetics existed and the Hokage Monument was carved with precision, it baffled him that civilian air conditioners weren't widespread.
The tech tree in the shinobi world was crooked. There were cinemas, electricity, even basic computers—the kind that looked like relics compared to his memories of high-performance machines from another life. But air conditioning? Somehow, still a luxury. Even during peacetime.
"If you don't have a kekkei genkai, learning Ice Release is pretty much impossible," Tsubaki replied, flicking open a folding fan and waving it gently. "It's not like Water and Wind chakra natures just blend because you want them to."
She cast a teasing glance at Mizuki, whose fiery chakra nature made him more of a walking furnace than a suitable candidate for cooling techniques.
Ice Release, or Hyōton, was a rare kekkei genkai primarily associated with the Yuki clan of the Land of Water—like Haku. In theory, it was a combination of Water and Wind nature transformations. But in practice, even with both attributes, forming ice required genetic predisposition. It wasn't just technique—it was bloodline.
Tsubaki, blessed (or cursed, as Mizuki saw it) with three chakra natures—Water, Wind, and Lightning—was far more versatile than Mizuki's single Fire affinity. If they weren't engaged, he might have stewed in jealousy. Instead, he stewed in sweat.
"Water and Wind I can understand… but Lightning? I don't recall you being the 'shock them till they stop moving' type." Mizuki muttered internally, glancing at her.
Tsubaki gave him a once-over and leaned over to cool him down with her fan anyway.
As for why they weren't cuddling to fan each other like a pair of lovebirds?
Well… Mizuki had spent most of his last life single. Old habits die hard.
"Without AC, leaning on each other just makes it worse."
Tsubaki changed the subject. "The flower shop's been closed for two days. If you're free, let's go check on it this afternoon."
Mizuki groaned. "It's way too hot. Nobody's gonna show up anyway. I vote we stay in and survive."
"If we wait too long, the flowers will wilt. I'm going either way."
She fixed him with that gentle-yet-firm look, and Mizuki caved.
"Okay, okay. Let's go. Don't look at me with those eyes."
Since coming back injured from the Land of Waves, Mizuki had noticed a subtle shift in Tsubaki. She was more serious. More focused. He didn't know if it was from worry or something deeper, but he respected it.
"If you've got time in the next few days, don't bother hiring help," she said. "The two of us can run the place."
Mizuki winced. Another step down the road to becoming a full-time flower shop owner.
But then something occurred to him.
"Tsubaki, we can find someone to help… without paying them."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Free labor is usually useless."
"Not this time." Mizuki smirked.
---
That afternoon, despite the heat, the streets of Konoha buzzed with activity. With the Chūnin Exams underway, the village saw a flood of visitors—genin teams, proctors, even foreign dignitaries. Patrols doubled. Vendors thrived. And Mizuki's pessimism proved unwarranted.
"Turns out flowers sell even in the heat," he muttered, wiping his brow.
Tsubaki was beaming, sleeves rolled up, cheeks flushed but smiling as she arranged a bouquet for a passing merchant. Mizuki found himself helping despite himself.
"This is the life she wants, huh? Something quiet, simple. A small shop, a peaceful family. A future far from battlefields."
Even in a war-scarred world like theirs, people craved peace. In Konoha, where the pain of past wars lingered, it was no wonder civilians clung to dreams of normalcy—even if it was fleeting.
Mizuki had struggled with that. Reborn into a strange world, burdened by his predecessor's mistakes, it had taken time to feel grounded. But Tsubaki… she was his tether. The one person who made this world feel real, not just another game to be played.
And she wasn't weak. Far from it.
Maybe she'd sensed his unease and took it upon herself to keep him from drifting. Every time they worked side by side, his thoughts slowed. The noise faded.
Sometimes he wondered—how did people like the Nara clan or Jiraiya, with their foresight and long-term thinking, manage peace of mind? Wouldn't knowing the future just ruin the present?
"Ignorance really is bliss sometimes," Mizuki mused.
By the time the sun dipped behind the rooftops and they locked up the shop, Mizuki felt strangely content. No crises. No reports. No summons.
So he went to bed early.
---
Next morning, a knock rattled the door.
Mizuki groaned and shuffled to answer it.
"I told Tsubaki not to come this early…"
But instead of her, standing outside was Hatake Kakashi—hands in pockets, nonchalant as ever—and Haruno Sakura, bowing politely.
"Yo. Morning," Kakashi greeted.
Sakura followed with a respectful bow. "Good morning, Mizuki-sensei."
"Eh? What are you two doing here?" Mizuki yawned. "I thought I had another day off. Come in."
Kakashi waved a hand. "No need. I'm just dropping her off."
He held out a scroll.
"This is what you asked for. Once you're done reviewing it, have Tsubaki send Sakura my way."
"Efficient, huh? Thanks," Mizuki said, accepting the scroll with a raised brow.
Kakashi disappeared in a blink, leaving a slight breeze behind.
Mizuki glanced at Sakura. "Well, come on in. We'll wait for Tsubaki before breakfast."
Sakura held out a small box. "I brought some pastries. Please have some if you don't mind."
"Thanks. Just set them on the table and grab a seat. I'll be there in a minute."