TPMITWON Chapter 68: Souta's Earnings

The desert night wind blew gently, carrying fine grains of sand that danced in the air, slipping into the gaps of clothing and hair, greeting Souta's skin with a cold touch.

The sky above stretched wide, adorned with clusters of stars that appeared so bright without the light pollution of a big city. A few thin clouds drifted slowly, almost invisible to the naked eye, but Souta noticed everything—he loved nights like this, when the world seemed to slow down, giving time to think.

Along the streets of the district near the Puppet Arts Performance Theater, nightlife moved in a gentle rhythm. Some stalls were still open, paper lanterns swaying softly in the wind, the shadows of pedestrians dancing on the walls of buildings.

Little children ran around laughing joyfully, mothers called them from the front of their houses with a tone of mild annoyance. An old man sat on a stone bench, playing a bamboo flute with a low and melancholic tune.

Souta walked slowly, letting the atmosphere seep in. But his steps soon halted as the aroma of grilling wafted into his nose—the smell of meat, spices, and charred charcoal was enticing.

On the right side of the street, under a worn fabric tent supported by four wooden poles, an old man with a gray beard was grilling skewers over a charcoal grill. The small flames flickered, reflecting light onto the wrinkled yet spirited face of the old man.

Souta then walked closer. His stomach responded with a soft rumble.

"Hello, young man!" greeted the vendor with a hoarse yet warm voice, his eyes squinting with a smile. "Are you interested in some grilled intestines? They're still hot. I just took them off the coals."

Souta nodded slowly, then immediately focused on the skewers arranged on a wooden tray. Oil from the meat dripped onto the coals, producing a sizzling sound and an even more tempting aroma.

"How much is it, Uncle?" Souta asked, as his hand slipped into the pocket of his trousers, feeling the bills inside.

"Seventy-five Ryo for one skewer. But if you buy two, I'll give them to you for one hundred forty. Special discount tonight," replied the vendor, pointing to two thicker skewers.

Souta nodded again, this time wider, and then handed over his money. He received two steaming skewers of intestines, and the aroma of the spices immediately assaulted his sense of smell—spicy, sweet, and slightly bitter from the perfect char.

Souta then took a slow bite of the end. The texture was chewy, the heat spreading in his mouth. It felt just perfect for him.

Souta chewed while continuing to walk. In his mind, numbers began to dance. His salary as a cleaner: 4000 Ryo a month. Monthly assistance from the government: 10000 Ryo. Total: 14000 Ryo. Enough to get by, even to save a little bit.

A mid-quality kunai could be bought for 3000 to 5000 Ryo. A basic set of Genin equipment could reach 20000 Ryo. Still far off. But not impossible.

In this world, even a D-rank mission could yield 5000 to 30000 Ryo in one go, if done correctly. However, Souta had not yet reached Genin, but he still had time. He still had plans.

Souta's steps slowed again, his thoughts began to outline his daily schedule: academy from morning until three in the afternoon, then straight to work until eight-thirty in the evening, six days a week.

Sunday? Training. Physical. Concentration. Studying chakra pathways, throwing precision, and much better chakra control techniques. Souta knew this world was not a safe place. The future he knew from his previous knowledge… waited in the dark.