Chapter 19: Delicate Might Guy
"When one flower blooms, another flower withers. Dad, can you sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Yes. Row, Row, Row your boat..."
I found myself humming random song fragments—a sure sign that my mood had improved considerably despite the afternoon's interruptions. Having my peaceful sun-bathing session crashed was annoying, but gaining a free janitor? That was the kind of silver lining that made life worth living.
Kakashi had apparently learned his lesson too. I could practically see the gears turning in his head: Next time Guy shows up for a "youth duel," I'm making a beeline for the morgue. Smart kid. There was always a way to weaponize Guy's enthusiasm.
The silver-haired prodigy had slipped away while Guy was absorbed in his cleaning meditation, leaving me to enjoy the fruits of my manipulation in peace.
Here's something I never expected about my career as a professional corpse-wrangler: I'd developed full-blown OCD about morgue hygiene. Back in my previous life, I could live in squalor for weeks without blinking. Now? I was cleaning this place five times a day, obsessing over every speck of dust on the deceased.
Maybe it was respect for the dead. Maybe it was professional pride. Or maybe handling bodies all day had rewired my brain in ways I didn't want to analyze too deeply.
Whatever the reason, Guy's timing was perfect.
"Senior Qifeng, I've finished cleaning!" Guy bounded over with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for Christmas morning, brandishing his broom like a victory trophy.
I placed a paternal hand on his shoulder, channeling every mentor figure I'd ever seen in movies. "Excellent work, Guy. That's the spirit! Youth shouldn't be wasted. Whenever you get tired of regular training, come find me. We can balance work and rest, complement each other's strengths, and both become better ninjas through cooperation."
Academy Award for Best Performance in a Manipulation Scene goes to...
"Yes!" Guy's eyes shone with the pure light of someone who'd just discovered their life's purpose.
I could practically see his internal monologue: My taijutsu is all power and aggression, but it lacks finesse. Senior Qifeng's method can regulate my physical conditioning while training my attention to detail!
And just like that, the world gained its first "Delicate Might Guy." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or run for cover.
"You're going to become an outstanding ninja, Guy. Not just equal to Kakashi—better than him. I believe in you completely."
The effect was immediate and devastating. Besides his father Might Duy, I was apparently the second person to express genuine faith in Guy's potential. Tears welled up in his eyes as he threw his arms wide.
"Youth!!"
He took off running toward the village, somehow managing to move even faster than when he'd arrived. The kid left a dust cloud that would make the Road Runner jealous.
I watched his retreating figure and couldn't help shaking my head. "What a good kid. Really."
*And what a useful one.*
Settling back into my rocking chair, I let the rhythmic creaking lull me into peaceful contemplation. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly balanced.
Of course, peace never lasted long in the ninja world.
As darkness fell, several figures materialized near the morgue like shadows given form. Intelligence Department operatives—I could tell by their practiced silence and the way they moved like they were perpetually late for their own funerals.
They'd finished extracting whatever secrets the three bodies could tell and were now transferring custody to me for final processing. Standard procedure, but it never stopped feeling a bit grim.
These weren't just corpses—they were Konoha ninjas who'd given everything for the village. Their families would receive generous pensions, their children would carry the honored title of "Hero's Descendants," and they'd get preferential treatment in village affairs for life.
It was one of the things I genuinely respected about Konoha. Only the wealthiest hidden village could afford such comprehensive death benefits, and it meant ninjas could fight without worrying about leaving their families destitute. Smart policy, really—nothing motivated soldiers like knowing their loved ones would be taken care of.
The lead operative handed me three scrolls with the solemnity of someone passing along state secrets. "We're counting on you."
"It's my duty," I replied, accepting the burden with appropriate gravity.
No small talk—we were from different departments with different purposes. They faded back into the night as efficiently as they'd arrived, leaving me alone with my new charges.
Inside the morgue, the familiar chill hit me like a physical presence. I unsealed the scrolls, releasing three bodies that told their own silent stories of sacrifice and violence.
The Intelligence Department had done basic cleanup—wiped away most of the blood, stitched up major wounds with all the delicacy of someone sewing a potato sack. Functional, but hardly dignified.
"If their families saw them like this..." I muttered, then caught myself. No point complaining. The Intelligence Department's job was intelligence, not cosmetic mortuary work. If they did everything, what would be the point of having me around?
I laid out my tools with practiced precision: needles, thread, cleaning cloths, bone-setting pliers. Everything needed to restore some measure of dignity to the departed.
This was where I got serious. What had started as simple pragmatism—treat the corpses well, and maybe they'd return the favor—had evolved into something deeper. The dead deserved respect, regardless of politics or personal gain. It was the bare minimum of human decency.
By the time I finished, the moon was riding high and midnight was approaching. Time for the evening's main event: my little supernatural lottery system.
Three bodies: one yellow-ranked (jonin level), two green-ranked (chunin), with one of the greens being Uchiha clan. Interesting variety.
I saved the Uchiha for last. Yellow corpses were rare, but if I could extract a bloodline card from an Uchiha corpse, that would be the real prize.
Starting with the regular green corpse:
[Green corpse, success rate 60%, would you like to loot? (This attempt 3/3, today 9/9)]
[Yes!]
[Success! Obtained random +2 single attribute improvement card!]
[Failure!]
[Success! Obtained three Fuma Shuriken!]
Standard haul. The attribute cards were becoming less impactful as my overall strength increased, but they were still the foundation of my steady progression. The Fuma Shuriken were a nice bonus—oversized, windmill-style throwing weapons that could probably decapitate a small tree.
Now for the yellow corpse, my first jonin-level body in weeks.
Jonin corpses were precious commodities. Most bodies that came through here were genin, with occasional chunin mixed in. In smaller villages, jonin were literally the highest rank available. Even in Konoha, with only a few hundred publicly known jonin, they were the absolute backbone of military power.
[Failure!]
[Failure!]
[Failure!]
I stared at the notification in shock.
First time for everything, I guess.
Since getting this system, I'd never completely whiffed on a corpse. Three attempts, three failures. Had I used up all my luck on previous hauls?
The heartbreak was real. Wasting a precious yellow corpse felt like dropping a winning lottery ticket down a storm drain. I clutched my chest dramatically until the pain subsided.
Nothing left but the Uchiha corpse.
"Brother, I finally got you here. Don't let me down."
Uchiha bodies were notoriously difficult to acquire. Clan members who'd awakened their Sharingan were immediately claimed by the clan—couldn't risk those precious eyes ending up in the wrong hands. Those who hadn't awakened their bloodline rarely made it to chunin rank, and the few that did...
Well, I'd tried looting Uchiha genin before. No bloodline cards. I'd gotten a few chunin over the time, but the success rate was abysmal. Still hadn't managed to collect a complete set.
[Green corpse, success rate 60%, would you like to loot? (This attempt 3/3, today 3/9)]
[Yes!]
[Success! Obtained broken kunai!]
Another item with a story, apparently.
The kunai that materialized was rusty and worn, but as I focused on it, images began flowing through my mind like an old film reel:
"Little Jinghu starts school tomorrow. You'll definitely become an excellent ninja. This is a gift from Grandpa—it once belonged to Uchiha Kagami, whom you admire most."
"Wow! It's a kunai!"
"Grandpa, I graduated! I'm a genin now! I'll become chunin, then jonin, maybe even Hokage!"
"Haha, Grandpa will be waiting to see it."
The images continued, showing Uchiha Jinghu's journey from bright-eyed academy student to disillusioned genin. Three years without promotion. Six years still stuck at the lowest rank while others mocked his "blind" status. His grandfather's unwavering support through every failure and disappointment.
"Grandpa, it's illogical! You said I could be a ninja without the Sharingan!"
"Sharingan isn't a shortcut, Jinghu. You can excel without it."
Ten years to make chunin. Finally accepting that he wasn't special, just determined to do his best. His grandfather's pride when he finally grew up and found peace with his limitations.
The final image was heartbreaking: "Grandpa, I did something important this time. We got crucial intelligence on the Hidden Mist Village! But I might not make it back. I really wish I could see you one more time."
A completely ordinary story. A painfully realistic journey from dreams to disappointment to acceptance. No dramatic awakenings, no last-minute power-ups, just a man who kept going despite never being the prodigy he'd hoped to become.
I gripped the kunai tighter, feeling the weight of a stranger's devotion to family. Even without family of my own in this world, I could understand Jinghu's love for his grandfather.
I slipped the kunai into my tool pouch without ceremony. Some things didn't need words.
[Success! Obtained Fire Style - Great Fireball Jutsu ninjutsu card!]
[Success! Obtained Uchiha Clan rare bloodline card (1/3)!]
Now that was more like it. The Great Fireball Technique was the signature jutsu of the Uchiha clan—every clan member learned it as a rite of passage. And the bloodline card... one step closer to completing the set.
Maybe Jinghu was looking out for me after all.
I looked down at his peaceful face one last time. "Thanks, brother. I'll make good use of these."
The night was quiet except for the distant sounds of the village settling into sleep. Three more souls had been properly honored, three more stories had reached their end, and I'd gained both power and perspective from the exchange.
Not a bad night's work, all things considered.
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