The Scent of Home

Although he didn't receive a clear answer from the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, Daimaru felt he had accomplished his goal to a certain extent. As long as he wasn't completely ignored, opportunities would arise. He was somewhat looking forward to potentially new teammates but didn't hold too many expectations. Integrating into teams diminished by casualties can prove challenging, and that was the best-case scenario—forming a team from individual ninjas left on their own would be even worse. Ninjas who don't blend into teams often have their own issues and putting these troubled youths together would likely lead to more problems.

"Who knows who my future teammates will be! If I get stuck with two idiots, the Chunin Exams are going to be a headache," Daimaru mused.

As for the team leader, Daimaru wasn't too fussy. The pinnacle of power among the Sand ninjas was limited to the One-Tailed Jinchuriki and those with the Magnet Release kekkei genkai. An average jounin, a notch below, wasn't likely to be of much assistance to Daimaru in the short term.

Pushing aside these worries, he wandered the somewhat desolate streets until he found himself at his family's doorstep—a simple two-story building. The upper floor was home to his mother, Wu Ye, a typical housewife caring for Daimaru's elderly grandfather, their livelihood supported by the laundry business on the ground floor.

With the climate of the Land of Wind dominated by sandstorms most of the year, coupled with a scarcity of water, centralized laundry services were more cost-effective than individual households doing their own washing. Such businesses supported many impoverished families in the village.

Daimaru used to live here, leaving behind many unforgettable memories. Since he was back with no ninja missions to attend to, he thought it'd be nice to visit his family.

Stepping through the weathered gate, the light in the spacious hall was decent, surrounded by clothes waiting to be washed. Most customers were ninjas from nearby, with only a few civilians; only well-off ninjas could afford to pay for laundry services.

Busy within the hall was Daimaru's mother, Wu Ye, along with two young women, one tall and the other notably shorter.

"Welcome—oh! Daimaru, you're back?"

"Yeah, I had some free time so I thought I'd drop by."

"That's great, go see your grandfather. He was just talking about you not long ago."

"Really? He never seems happy to see me!"

"He's old and gets grumpy, Daimaru. Just bear with it."

"Got it..."

Daimaru replied half-heartedly, their meetings always ending less than amicably.

"Daimaru, you're out of the hospital?"

"That voice... Chisa, long time no see... and Yome, sorry, I almost didn't notice you—you're so short!"

The taller kunoichi, with brown eyes and black pupils, had her hair tied back in a ponytail, with side braids blending into the rest, partially obscuring the forehead protector on her head. Dressing like most female ninjas of the Hidden Sand, in a fishnet undershirt with a blue-purple belt at the waist, she wore a form-fitting red tube dress, fingerless gloves, shin guards, and black sandals—all chosen with care, radiating youthful exuberance.

Yome, on the other hand, was so petite that if not for her forehead protector, no one would believe she was a ninja. Her hair, even darker than Chisa's, was tied in twin ponytails, and she wore a cool, childish dress with a light-yellow vest to shield from the desert sun.

"Daimaru, still the same old meanie, always picking on people."

Yome pouted unhappily at the mention of her height.

More familiar with Daimaru's character, Chisa—who was the same age as Daimaru and became a genin at the same time as Temari—was used to his antics. Yome, a year younger, had only officially become a ninja the previous year.

Of course, many local kids around their ages, Temari included, had felt the sting of Daimaru's 'loving fists'. He wasn't called the village's worst brat king for nothing. The girls rarely got a beating, but the desert lizards and scorpions Daimaru caught terrorized them sufficiently.

Chisa joked, "Yome is still a sensitive child. She cried when she heard you'd died in service. For you to mock her like that is unkind to her tears!"

"Really, then I'll tease you less from now on, little sister Yome?"

"Don't call me little sister; I'm a ninja now!" Yome detested being treated like a child, especially by those taller than her. If not for her height making her seem less capable, she could have been a ninja two years earlier.

"Alright, little Yome..."

Ignoring Yome's irritation, Daimaru turned to Chisa with a smile, "By the way, you didn't cry when you heard I died?"

"No!" Chisa denied it flatly, "And just so you know, Temari didn't cry either. She just said it was a shame that without you, things would get a lot less interesting!"

"The 'fool' part was unnecessary!"

Unlike Daimaru, Chisa was clearly closer to Temper, their mysterious girlhood friendship contrasting with the incomprehensible relationships among kunoichi from Daimaru's perspective.

"I heard you confessed to Miss Temari and got coldly rejected. How tragic. I thought you'd be in tears, but you seem to be holding up alright!"

"Do I look like someone that fragile?" Daimaru said nonchalantly, "And who knows who's spreading those rumors!"

"Looks like you won't give up, huh?"

"Of course not! 'The sincere heart can penetrate even stone,' and one day, Temari will be moved by me!"

"Well, good luck with that."

Chisa and Yome, after collecting their freshly laundered clothes and bidding farewell to Wu Ye, left.

"Daimaru, are you sure it's okay?" his mother Wu Ye asked, concerned.

"About what?"

"The stuff about Miss Temari, it's all over town. Our family is just ordinary folk, and she's a princess from the Kazekage clan... the gap is just too wide..."

While outsiders could treat it as a joke, Daimaru's mother couldn't help but worry.

"It's alright, I know my limits. Mother, I'm going upstairs."

"Daimaru..."

Wu Ye wanted to say more, but Daimaru was already out of reach, leaving her with a sigh. The hardships faced by poor families in the Hidden Sand were beyond imagination. Thankfully, since becoming a ninja, Daimaru's generous mission compensation helped support the family. However, the life of a ninja was costly. The already modest genin salary, split between supporting his mother and buying ninja tools, left Daimaru with little to spare.

...

Daimaru gently opened the door to his grandfather's room. The old man, too weak with age, was already asleep. Without disturbing his rest, Daimaru returned to his old room, which, thanks to his mother's care, was tidy, despite not having lived there for some time.

Removing his headband and ninja vest, clad only in a simple white exercise outfit, Daimaru stared at the mirror. The young ninja reflected back at him looked promising. His brown buzz-cut hair, darker than Chisa's but lighter than Yome's, paired with his sun-bronzed skin, gave him a vibrant and healthy appearance.

"Not too bad, the face is decent, not ugly, there's still hope. I'm just average in height, not particularly tall. I'm only sixteen, and I train frequently—I should be able to grow a bit taller still, right?"