If I had to describe Mizuki's current life, the phrase "I can't even take care of myself" sums it up perfectly. Meals appear at the call of his stomach, clothes are brought without lifting a finger, someone hands him water when he's thirsty, and someone massages his legs when they ache. It's the kind of cushy life that would make even a feudal lord jealous. The phrase "eating and drinking like an immortal" feels almost appropriate—until reality kicks in. Because ninjas, for all their training and chakra control, aren't actual immortals. What goes in must eventually come out, and let's just say Mizuki has come to deeply appreciate the other end of that saying.
In just a few days, he's felt every shade of shame and fear a man could feel. Whatever sense of pride or "righteousness" he once clung to has long since been ground to dust—especially since the person tending to him is his fiancée. It's the kind of humbling that's impossible to explain unless you've lived through it.
"So this is the difference between memory and real experience," Mizuki mused one day. "Even if you inherit a body or memories, assimilation is a different beast altogether."
Take the original Mizuki's ninja experience, for instance—sure, he knew every fight, every jutsu on paper. But that's like expecting a landlubber to swim after reading a thousand manuals. It doesn't work like that.
In a lighthearted anime, sure, anyone can transform from a white-collar office worker to a taijutsu master as long as it's entertaining. But in the real world—even in one with chakra and giant toads—you still need to grind. You have to accumulate XP and build up jutsu proficiency, just like any other shinobi. The margin between life and death is too narrow for shortcuts. And the so-called "protagonist" of this era? That's not Mizuki. That role is already taken.
Back when he nearly died saving others, Mizuki didn't have time to think about who he used to be. He didn't even have time to reflect on the combat habits of the "original" Mizuki. He just... reacted. Pure instinct. His body responded before his mind caught up, relying on the raw drive to survive and win. It's only after getting thrashed, again and again, that he's started to adapt. Like learning to swim by getting tossed into the ocean repeatedly, only then do those borrowed memories start to click.
"The disconnect between memory and muscle... that can only be bridged through experience," he thought with a weary sigh. "No way around it."
As he picked up an orange wedge Tsubaki handed him, Mizuki suddenly asked, "Xiao Chun, do you think I should change careers?"
"What?" Tsubaki blinked, confused.
"I mean, seriously, being a ninja's dangerous. I almost didn't make it back this time. And this injury? Who knows how long it'll take to fully heal? I've been guzzling recovery pills like candy, eating high-grade chakra foods and expensive fruit every day. We both know that kind of stuff isn't cheap. The mission reward barely covers the gauze."
"It's fine. I have money—I can take care of it," Tsubaki replied softly.
"Come on, how much can you really have? You've been taking leave from your job to look after me every day. You're probably not even getting full pay anymore. You can't cover all this on your own."
"I still have savings," she said, hesitant. "I've been putting money away for a while… for after we get married."
Mizuki blinked, speechless. So she's already maxed her support stats and is ready for a class change?
"It doesn't feel right spending your money," Mizuki muttered. "Hey, what if I became an actor? Ninja dramas are popular right now, and I hear the pay is pretty decent. I don't have the looks to be a leading man, but maybe we could do comedy! You and me, a performance duo—jokes, magic tricks, use a little chakra sleight-of-hand. Normal people wouldn't know the difference. Once we build a rep, we move into films. What do you think?"
"But… but…" Tsubaki looked flustered and unsure how to shut him down. "Maybe we could just… open a flower shop? I know how to grow things."
"A flower shop, huh? That's not bad," Mizuki nodded. "We could even sell chakra-enhanced seeds. And hey—what if we got Iruka to let Academy students buy supplies from us? Wait—no, the parents would complain. What if we sold training supplies instead? Like kunai targets made from flower stems or something. Iruka wouldn't object if we offered him a cut, right? Two shares and a free coffee every week. He'll be onboard."
"But wouldn't that be… dishonest?" Tsubaki asked, still unsure whether this was all a joke or a serious business plan.
Before Mizuki could respond with more nonsense, a cough echoed from the doorway.
"Sandaime! What are you doing here?" Mizuki stiffened.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, stood at the door with an amused expression. Apparently, Tsubaki had forgotten to close it.
"Lord Third!" Tsubaki quickly stood and bowed.
"No need to be nervous," Hiruzen said kindly. "I heard you were recovering well, so I thought I'd check in. But I seem to have arrived during… a very creative discussion."
Tsubaki smiled awkwardly. Mizuki tried to play it off. "Must've misheard. I've just been eating oranges this whole time."
"Mm, I'm sure," the Hokage replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ibiki and Aoba already reported on the mission. The intel was flawed; it put you all at risk. I appreciate the effort, Mizuki."
"No need to thank me. This is what shinobi are for—adapting to situations and completing the mission," Mizuki said stiffly.
Hiruzen didn't comment on the platitude. "The village doesn't turn a blind eye to its loyal shinobi. You've taken a serious hit this time. Do you need support from the village?"
"Nothing urgent," Mizuki replied cautiously. "Though I've hit a wall in my research—particularly in sealing techniques and summoning. Does the village have materials on that?"
"Summoning techniques are mostly family-kept secrets," Hiruzen admitted. "But the general mechanics are shared across contracts. I'll have some materials sent to you. As for sealing… beyond basic fūinjutsu, anything advanced is highly restricted. Still, I'll see that you get access to entry-level formation and binding arrays."
"That's more than enough. Thank you, Lord Third."
"The village will help within reason. I hope it's useful," Hiruzen said. "Now get some rest. We'll need capable shinobi back on their feet soon."
After the Hokage left, Mizuki exhaled in relief.
"Xiao Chun… next time, lock the door."
"Mm."
The visit had been unexpected but not unwelcome. More important than any scrolls or materials was what it symbolized: the village had officially decided to let him stay. That alone was huge. Whatever happened next—whether he ended up clashing with Orochimaru, Yakushi Kabuto, or even being accused of treachery again—the village wouldn't just throw him under the bus. No more surprise surveillance or cold glares. For now, at least, the redemption arc was official.
"Xiao Chun, my hair's too long. Cut it for me."
"Alright."
"Give me something flashy. Noble son energy. Windproof."
"What even is that?" she asked, exasperated.
"Forget it. Just give me shoulder-length with some bangs."
"Got it."
"And after that, I want chocolate fondue. Extra ice cream."
"I'm not making that."
"Okay, then a big bowl of seafood udon. No onions or cilantro, extra garlic."
A sudden bang cut through the room as a puff of smoke exploded by the door. A large figure emerged.
"Rude!" Mizuki snapped. "Ever heard of knocking? Who just busts in like that?"
When the smoke cleared, he saw Ibiki Morino standing there, expression stony and scarred as ever.
"Oh. Captain Ibiki. Fancy entrance."
"I'm not your captain anymore," Ibiki replied. "The mission's over. As for your next assignment—due to your injuries, all patrol and security duties have been reassigned. You've been appointed assistant examiner for the first round of the Chūnin Exams—written portion. For the second, you're backup in the Forest of Death. If you're recovered by the third, you'll join the venue security detail, working under Hatake Kakashi. Full briefings will follow. Here's your provisional assignment."
Mizuki glanced at the form. "Wow. You're giving me time off during the first two rounds? Didn't expect you to be such a nice guy."
"This isn't charity," Ibiki said flatly. "It's a logistical decision. Rest well." With that, he turned and left.
"And again—no one closes the door," Mizuki grumbled. "No respect."
Tsubaki just sighed. "That's probably not true."
"Whatever. But Xiao Chun, the haircut's crooked."
"Want me to fix it?"
"Actually… I think I'll go to a real barber after I leave the hospital."