>>5795843>>5795856>>5795867>>5795877>>5795922>>5795982>>5796302Hotaru gives you an address. Not far from the waterfall, you note. You’ve walked past the place dozens of times, it’s an older building that used to be an inn, located on a dirt path that feeds the outstretched fingers of Konoha into the forest leading up to where the river rises. No wonder you were spotted passing out that one time.
You hadn’t considered entering for any reason before. For what reason could you possibly want to enter an inn? It did have an onsen in the back, apparently, but hot water inherently disgusted you and you had never had a hot shower or bath in your entire life. You cleaned yourself in cold, clear rivers like a traditional boy.
In addition to that, you clearly remembered the signage out front saying it was closed. You mention that to Hotaru before your group splinters off for their very first legitimate ninja mission of potluck cooking.
“After my father died, it was maintained by my mother. She was a normal woman. Died of normal illness. I’ve never had an interest in becoming a businesswoman so after I inherited it it simply became my home.” She explains, slightly wistfully. “It will be nice to have others over, for once. Its doors have been closed for about, I don’t know, five years now. I should have sold it by now, but it’s sentimental.”
“How old are you?” Asks Masami, bluntly. An unprovoked attack.
A smile, but one with a hint of venom “None of your business. Don’t you have cooking to do?”
The three of you spread to the four winds, leaving the park and its bench behind. It had gone pretty well, you think. Waterfall wom- Hotaru seemed a bit more formal and serious than you remember, but that’s probably just jonin presentation. Especially with the volume of questions you rapid-fired at her, some efficiency in speech was warranted. You were curious to talk about what happened that day years ago and if it influenced Hotaru at all, but that’s a conversation that could probably be had over food.
—
Food was going to be a problem, you think, sitting on a rock near your tent. You were not some kind of culinary expert. Even before you started living in the woods your meals were spartan. Barely seasoned fish, rice… Water. Berries. Nuts. You had ideas, but the more complicated you tried to get the more liable you were to mess up. You offer your prayers to the shrines of Izumi and Shigure and move to leave your camp.
You pause and look back. You remember why you set up here in the first place. Was it luck that made this choice relevant? Or something else? Regardless, you again have a vague sense of gratitude and relief as you grab a fishing line and set out to prepare your meager offerings.
