Sasuke and Kakashi had stayed back.
Sasuke simply wasn't interested in tagging along for construction work—his training and sharpening his edge were his priorities. Kakashi, still recovering from the Sharingan strain, rested beneath Tsunami's watchful eyes. She had no reason to step out either; her duty was to her home, her son, and keeping the warmth inside those walls.
So, it was Naruto, Karin, Inari, and Tazuna who headed out together—toward the unfinished bridge that stood like a frozen promise.
The village they passed through was silent—but not the peaceful kind. It was heavy. Suffocating. Eyes followed them from windows, doorways, alleys. Not a single word was uttered, but volumes of anger and blame were screamed through glares alone.
Naruto and Karin didn't say anything. They didn't need to. The tension etched itself into their faces, brows furrowed, jaws tight.
But Inari… he was just a kid. His small hand clutched his bag tighter. His steps grew unsure. His eyes flitted around, taking in the silent judgment of neighbors he once knew—now cold, angry, broken.
His body stiffened like a branch in the wind, and for a second, he almost stopped walking.
But Tazuna noticed. Without turning or breaking stride, he reached back and gently caught Inari's hand. He squeezed, firm and steady.
Inari looked up at him.
Tazuna didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The grip on Inari's hand said enough.
"I see them. I feel it too. But we move forward."
Tazuna, weathered by years and hardened by burdens, didn't look around. He knew this road well—not just the path beneath his feet, but the atmosphere that clung to it like fog. He had walked through hatred before. And he would do it again—until this bridge was built, and this village had a reason to hope again.
The group pushed onward, their silence louder than any outburst.
When they reached the edge of the unfinished bridge, the air was thick with salt and steel. The sea breeze carried the scent of damp wood, iron, and tension—like the bridge itself was holding its breath, waiting to be finished.
Naruto took one look at the towering frame, then turned to Karin and Inari.
"Alright, you two hang back and watch. If we need extra hands, we'll shout," he said, already shrugging off the protector-mode.
He stepped forward, movements casual but focused. He had already swapped into a simple work outfit—no flashy ninja gear, no regal cloaks, just a sturdy old shirt and faded pants that could handle a little sawdust and grime. The look of someone ready to build something from scratch.
"Sensei! When are we starting?" Naruto called out, looking toward Tazuna with a grin, his voice cutting through the sleepy morning fog.
Tazuna glanced at Naruto and barked, "Then listen up, apprentice. First, we lift that support beam over there—and I'll give you more instructions after that."
"Yes, Sensei!" Naruto gave a cheeky mock salute, all fired up, and jogged toward the beam like he was on a mission from the Hokage himself.
He grabbed the beam, lifted it with a dramatic grunt… and proceeded to carry it in the completely wrong direction.
"Idiot! That's the wrong way—turn it around!" Tazuna shouted, already exasperated.
Karin and Inari, watching from the sidelines, burst into laughter. Karin was nearly doubled over, and Inari covered his mouth, snorting through his nose.
And just like that, the morning's work kicked off in full swing.
By the time lunch rolled around, Naruto was still going strong—hauling wood, hammering nails, mixing cement with the kind of enthusiasm that would make even a caffeinated workhorse tired.
Tazuna, on the other hand, looked like he'd aged five years. His voice was hoarse from yelling, his shoulders slumped, and every time Naruto picked up the wrong tool, he let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper.
"Is this what child labor laws were made for?" he muttered under his breath.
But even then… he couldn't help the tiny smirk that crept onto his face. The kid might've been a whirlwind, but he was trying—really trying.
After returning home for lunch—prepared lovingly by Tsunami, of course—the group refueled and headed right back to the bridge.
And so began Tazuna's Torture: Part Two.
But this time, Naruto was sharper, more focused, and just a tiny bit less clumsy. He still made mistakes—oh, plenty—but he started to keep up. The mix-ups were fewer, the hammer swings more accurate, and he even stopped mixing concrete like it was ramen broth.
By the end of the day, as the sun dipped behind the misty horizon, the bridge looked… a little more like a bridge and a little less like a construction site hit by a tornado.
Naruto wiped the sweat from his brow, his smile as bright as ever. "Thank you, Sensei. I learned so much today," he said with a respectful bow.
Tazuna chuckled, surprised by the genuine appreciation. "Same here, kid. I also learned a lot… mostly about my patience."
Naruto blinked. "Was that a compliment?"
Tazuna smirked. "Take it however helps you sleep."
And with that, they packed up for the day—one step closer to a finished bridge… and maybe, just maybe, one step closer to a bond neither expected.
The following days flowed like ripples on a calm river. Each morning, Naruto and Tazuna set off to work on the bridge—one carrying tools, the other carrying an ever-growing sense of pride. Together, they built beams, laid supports, and slowly stitched the great structure together, piece by sturdy piece.
But Naruto's evenings? Oh, they were a different kind of busy.
Almost every night, he met up with Haku. Sometimes, it was just him. Other times, Karin tagged along. But more often lately, she stayed behind.
Not because of some epic mission or secret drama. Nah, it was something much simpler—and way cuter.
Karin wanted to learn how to cook.
It all started when Naruto said," Think about what you want for the future."
And Karin? Well, she took it straight to heart. If I'm gonna marry this idiot someday, I'm gonna be the best, most loyal, most wife-material kunoichi he's ever seen!
Step one on her roadmap to being a top-tier waifu? Learn to cook like a pro.
So, she threw herself into learning from the best local chef around—Tsunami.
Tsunami, ever the kind-hearted soul, was more than happy to teach her. After all, these kids had brought laughter, life, and even a bit of hope back into her quiet, grieving home. Seeing Karin so determined and Naruto so full of life again? It reminded her of better days. Days she thought were long gone.
And so, while the bridge rose during the day, a different kind of foundation was being built at night—one made of kindness, connection, and… the occasional kitchen fire (because Karin may or may not have mistaken salt for sugar once).
The way she first asked Tsunami to teach was even more funny.
She had paced in front of the kitchen for twenty minutes.
In. Out. In. Out. Her hands were on her hips one moment, tangled in her hair the next.
"This is stupid," she muttered under her breath.
But she still didn't walk away.
From the kitchen, Tsunami hummed softly, chopping vegetables like she'd done it a thousand times. Which she probably had. There was a kind of peace to her, the kind that made Karin's stormy heart feel seen—and also incredibly awkward.
Finally, with a dramatic inhale and the bravado of someone about to challenge a legendary Sannin, Karin burst into the kitchen, hands clenched at her sides.
"Tsunami-san," she barked, standing stiff as a soldier.
Tsunami blinked at her, slightly startled. "…Yes?"
"I…" Karin hesitated. Her entire face twitched, as though the words were physically painful to form. "…want to learn how to cook."
Tsunami blinked again.
Karin doubled down. "I don't mean just toss ramen in a pot. I mean real cooking. Like—like meals. Bentos. Curry. Stew. That… domestic magic you do with vegetables and fire!"
Tsunami couldn't help it. She laughed. And Karin blushed so hard she almost combusted on the spot.
"Please don't laugh! I'm being serious!" Karin blurted out, stamping her foot.
"No, no, it's not that," Tsunami chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's just… the way you asked. You looked like you were about to challenge me to a duel."
Karin crossed her arms and muttered, "Well, that was Plan B."
Tsunami gave her a warm smile, then reached for a small sack of rice.
"All right then. Let's start with rice. It's the foundation of everything."
"Wait, really? I thought we'd jump into something dramatic, like grilled octopus on miso reduction—"
"Rice, Karin."
"…Right. Rice."
And thus, the saga began.
It was chaos from the start. Karin's first rice? Crunchy. Her second? Soup. Her third? Somehow set off the smoke alarm.
She cried actual tears while chopping onions and swore vengeance against garlic when it made her fingers smell. She held a spatula like it was a senbon and nearly flung miso paste across the kitchen once when startled by Naruto yelling from the yard.
And then… one day… something just clicked.
The rice came out fluffy.
The miso soup didn't burn.
And when Naruto walked into the house and paused with a, "Whoa… What's that smell?" —Karin felt her heart do somersaults.
Inari took one bite and gave her a dramatic thumbs-up like a food critic in training. Tsunami smiled with a quiet pride, offering only a nod that said, You're getting there.
Karin pretended it was no big deal. "It's just rice," she scoffed. "Nothing fancy."
But when she turned her back to wash the pot, her smile was so wide it hurt.
And in that tiny kitchen filled with warmth and steam and the echo of laughter, she felt something she hadn't in a long time.