Naruto: Faint Smile - CH 84

[Third Person POV]

Kohinata Mukai stood by the window of his home, the thin trail of smoke from his cigarette curling up into the air, disappearing into the soft light of the early afternoon. His gaze softened as he watched his wife carry their baby, a five-month-old bundle of joy out of the door, cradled carefully in her arms. His baby babbled something incomprehensible, his chubby hands grasping at the air as his wife smiled down at him, whispering soothing words.

That baby was Mukai’s world. His reason for living, for killing, for everything.

Mukai’s face, rugged, cold and worn from years on the battlefield, held an expression that few ever saw: tenderness. The life of a shinobi was brutal, unforgiving, but in moments like this, all of that… seemed distant. His wife caught his eye as she stepped into the street, offering him a quick wave, and he gave her a subtle nod in return. The baby wriggled in her arms, and she turned away, heading toward the local park a few blocks away.

His son was sick, terminally ill… not because his disease was lethal, which it was, but because despite there being treatment for it… it was unimaginably expensive.

Every coin he had, every piece of income he made, was so that his son could live to enjoy another day.

He watched them disappear down the road, lingering a moment longer before turning from the window with a quiet sigh. His right arm hung in a cast, the dull ache a small reminder of the last mission. He absentmindedly rubbed the cast as he made his way to the kitchen.

As he reached for a bottle of sake, a voice cut through the silence of the house.

“Enjoying your day off, Mukai?”

Mukai froze, his hand just inches from the bottle. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The voice was unmistakable—low, cold, and too calm for his liking.

He let out a snort, shaking his head as he picked up the bottle, ignoring the intruder for a moment. “Well, well… I was starting to wonder when you would appear, I mean, after all, the mission didn’t go as planned, did it?” He poured himself a drink, lifting the cup to his lips with his good hand.

The Masked Man stood just inside the doorway of the kitchen, his single visible eye watching Mukai with that same unnerving calm. “We didn’t have all the information we needed to act accordingly,” the Masked Man replied, his tone indifferent. “There were too many unknowns. But you still completed your part of the deal, giving me all the information I needed.”

Mukai downed the sake in one swift motion, setting the cup back down on the counter with a soft clink. “Guess I’m still getting paid, then.”

The Masked Man didn’t move, didn’t flinch. “Of course.”

Mukai chuckled to himself, the sound low and cynical. “I’ve done a lot of questionable things over the last few months, but that mission? That was a whole different level.” He turned around, finally facing the Masked Man, his expression hardening. “So now what, do you want me to kill the kid?”

The Masked Man’s eye narrowed slightly, but his voice remained even. “No.”

Mukai let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter, careful not to put weight on his injured arm. “Good. Because no amount of money would be worth that mission. I have no intention of fighting that monster.” His gaze flicked down toward the cast on his arm, a reminder of just how wrong things had gone.

“That’s precisely why killing him isn’t an option,” the Masked Man said. “That transformation of his—I have my reasons to believe it can only happen under extreme circumstances. So if we try to kill him, we risk awakening that beast again. It’s too dangerous to take the chance.”

Mukai snorted again. “Yeah, I saw that beast from afar. Wouldn’t want to poke it unless I had a death wish.” He paused for a moment, looking out the window where his family had just left. “On that note, this is the last time I’m working with you. The risks keep piling up, and frankly, I’d rather not have the village breathing down my neck when all this comes crashing down.”

There was a long silence. The Masked Man stood completely still, as if considering Mukai’s words, though his expression remained unreadable behind the mask. “That’s fine,” he said eventually, his voice low but unconcerned. “If your services are needed again, you’ll be contacted. Until then, you can consider this the end of our arrangement.”

Mukai raised his good hand in a mock salute. “Appreciate the understanding,” he said dryly, though the tension in his voice betrayed how much he wanted this over with. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got better things to do with what’s left of my day.”

The Masked Man didn’t reply. He simply disappeared in an instant, swallowed up by a swirling vortex that twisted the air around him, pulling his form into nothingness. 

Mukai exhaled slowly, setting the bottle of sake back down and rubbing his temples with his uninjured hand. Working with that man had been a risk from the start, but it was one he’d calculated. The payoff had been good, and he had made sure to cover his tracks every step of the way. But he wasn’t stupid. There was only so long he could play both sides before someone caught on.

But regardless of that, he would continue to do so… for as long as he could, he wouldn’t let his kid die. 

He looked down at his arm again, remembering what happened, the feeling of the beast, his chakra, his expression darkening as each bit of information hit him. The mission, it wasn’t supposed to have gone like this, it was supposed to be an easy job.

“I suppose that’s life for you,” Mukai sighed, taking another sip of his drink, this time straight from the bottle.