Naruto rebirth! Born again with a system.

Chapter 28: A Day to Breathe.

The morning sun felt different somehow—warmer, more welcoming than it had in days. Kōzaru stretched carefully as he woke, his ribs protesting the movement with a dull ache that served as a constant reminder of yesterday's near-death experience. Yuki and Riku flanked him on either side of his bed, their protective instincts stronger than ever after what they'd all endured together.

"Morning, guys," he whispered, scratching behind Yuki's ears as she nuzzled into his hand. Her neck still bore faint bruises from the Stone chunin's grip, but her tail wagged with determined cheerfulness., while Riku looked slightly disappointed in himself.

"Hey come on now, its not your fault little guy." Kōzaru said in an attempt to comfort the pup.

Riku sighed but soon gave in as Kōzaru picked the little guy up and held him to his face.

"We will all get stronger together, don't you worry about that."

The house felt unusually quiet without his mother's presence. She'd been deployed on a long-term mission the day before his own mission, leaving him alone. During wartime, even family time became a luxury few could afford it would seem.

Making his way downstairs, Kōzaru found an empty kitchen, knowing he would have to make his own food as he started searching through the kitchen, also getting the dogs their breakfast and setting it down for them, his rib still giving him some pain.

As he ate, Kōzaru found his mind wandering to his teammates. Were they dealing with the same mixture of relief and restlessness? The same need to process what had happened while trying to return to some semblance of normalcy?

"What do you think, guys?" he asked Yuki and Riku. "Should we go find the others?" Knowing he had nothing else to do today other than rest.

Both dogs perked up immediately, their tails wagging with enthusiasm. After days of tension and combat, the prospect of a peaceful day with friends appealed to all of them.

Across the village, Tatsuma was having a similar morning. Leaving alone was tough at the best of times, but after what he had gone through in the last few days, being alone was one of the last things he needed. 

Tatsuma slowly climbed out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror, still getting used to his small reflection in his new body.

Looking at his hands he could still remember the feeling that had travelled through his body after he made his first kill. Forcing himself to push it to the back of his mind.

"It was me or him...." Tatsuma said, also remembering how helpless he had been when he was trapped in the water prison jutsu.

I can't just sit around and do nothing all day. I need to find a way to get stronger...

Meanwhile, Aotaka was gingerly testing his shoulder's range of motion. His parents—both civilians working in the village's expanded munitions production—hovered nearby with barely concealed worry. The war had transformed their quiet administrative roles into critical support positions, leaving them little time for family but heightening their protective instincts.

"Are you sure you should be going out?" his mother asked, noting his careful movements.

"I need to see my teammates," Aotaka said simply. "We went through something together. It helps to talk with people who understand." He said, not paying his parents in this world much mind.

I need to get stronger... Nothing else matters now. The only thing that matters in this world is strength. Aotaka thought, turning his attention toward his sword that was resting on the bujin on the table in his room.

A little time later...

The three of them met at their usual spot, though everything felt different now. The same clearing where they'd first compared system notifications seemed almost innocent compared to what they'd experienced.

"You look like hell," Tatsuma said by way of greeting, though his grin took any sting out of the words.

"Bad dreams?" Kōzaru asked, noting the dark circles under both his friends' eyes.

"The drowning keeps coming back," Tatsuma admitted. "I wake up feeling like I can't breathe."

"I keep dreaming about that blade coming for my throat," Aotaka said quietly, flexing his injured shoulder. "Wondering what would have happened if Kakashi had been even a second later."

They stood in comfortable silence, each processing their brush with mortality. It was Yuki who broke the moment, barking once and looking expectantly toward the village.

"She's right," Kōzaru said with a slight smile. "We came here to get away from heavy thoughts. So... what should we do with our first real day off?"

"I see she has made a swift recovery." Aotaka said, a smile coming to his face.

"Food," Tatsuma said immediately. "Real food, not field rations. I want to sit somewhere and eat until I can't move."

"Ichiraku's?" Aotaka suggested.

"Perfect!"

The walk through the village felt surreal. Despite the ongoing war, civilians maintained their routines—shopping, working, children playing. The normalcy felt both comforting and strange after their recent experiences with life-and-death combat.

"It's weird seeing how normal everyone else's lives are," Tatsuma observed, watching academy students practice basic forms in a park.

"We were like that not long ago," Aotaka pointed out.

"Now everything else feels distant," Kōzaru agreed. "Like there's this whole world of people who don't think about death every day, makes you realize how easy our lives were back home."

Ichiraku Ramen was busy with off-duty shinobi and civilian workers. The familiar sounds of cooking created a warm atmosphere that felt like a balm to their battle-weary spirits.

"Three miso ramen, extra large," Kōzaru ordered, settling onto a bar stool with Yuki and Riku curling up at his feet.

As they waited, they found themselves observing other patrons with new interest. Chunin discussed patrol schedules with professional casualness. A group of genin complained about training methods with good-natured griping that spoke of complete trust in their sensei.

"Listen to them," Aotaka said quietly. "Remember when those were our biggest concerns?"

"I remember thinking chunin were impossibly skilled," Tatsuma said ruefully. "Now I know even they can get overwhelmed by the right opponent."

Their ramen arrived in steaming bowls that filled their corner with rich aromas. For several minutes, they focused entirely on eating—not the hurried consumption of field rations, but the slow appreciation of a well-prepared meal.

"This is amazing," Tatsuma said between slurps, feeling tension leave his shoulders.

They ate in comfortable silence, the simple pleasure of good food in a safe environment doing more to restore their spirits than any formal debriefing could have managed.

After lunch, they wandered through parts of Konoha they'd never paid attention to before. The business district, where merchants conducted trade with focused competence. Residential areas where families lived peacefully because of sacrifices made by people like them.

"Look at that," Aotaka said, pointing to an elderly woman tending flowers with obvious care. "She's probably done that same routine for decades. Same flowers, same time, same attention to detail."

"There's something beautiful about having a normal life," Tatsuma said thoughtfully. "Routines that aren't about survival."

Their feet carried them to the memorial stone without conscious decision. The black granite surface held countless names, the list seeming longer each time they visited.

"This is the memorial stone for shinobi that are KIA... Wonder if our names will end up here someday," Kōzaru said quietly, Yuki and Riku pressing close as if sensing the sombre mood.

"Probably," Aotaka said matter-of-factly. "Most shinobi die in the line of duty eventually."

"At least if our names end up here, they'll be together," Kōzaru said. "Team 15. That's something, right?"

"Better than being just another casualty statistic," Aotaka agreed.

"But that's not going to happen." He then said with resolve.

It wasn't morbid—just young warriors coming to terms with their chosen path. They'd seen death up close now, and the experience had stripped away remaining illusions about the shinobi life being an adventure story.

Eventually they found a sunny hillside overlooking the village and settled down to watch the world go by.

"Check this out," Tatsuma said, pulling out his system interface. "I've been thinking about stat distribution after yesterday."

The others joined him, comparing their growth and discussing improvement plans.

"More taijutsu focus for me," Tatsuma continued. "Yesterday showed that clone jutsu won't help if I can't handle close combat."

"I need more ninjutsu options," Kōzaru agreed. "The All-Fours technique is great, but I need alternatives when speed isn't enough... Maybe I should start combining it with my body flicker and really boost my speed for hit and run attacks."

"Balanced approach," Aotaka said, flexing his shoulder. "Can't afford major weaknesses as a frontline fighter. But I still need to work on my kenjutsu more than anything."

Their conversation drifted from training to speculation about other teams, stories of legendary shinobi, and hopes for the future. It was the kind of casual discussion that only happened when young people had time to think beyond immediate survival.

"Shame we can't turn super saiyan." Tatsuma said, jokingly, getting a laugh from the others as they started listing broken abilities from other anime.

As afternoon wore on, they found themselves back in the village proper, drawn by the sights and sounds of normal life continuing around them.

"Think we'll ever get back to being normal?" Tatsuma asked, watching a young couple sharing dango.

"I don't think so," Aotaka said seriously. "Once you've seen what we've seen... you're always going to be different from people who haven't."

"Maybe being different isn't the same as being broken," Kōzaru said thoughtfully. "Maybe it just means we understand things they don't have to."

They bought dango and found a bench where they could sit and observe. Yuki and Riku attracted attention from passing children, who asked permission before petting the "ninja dogs" with wide-eyed fascination.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, they made their way toward home. The day had accomplished exactly what they'd needed—a chance to decompress, remember what they were fighting for, and reconnect as friends rather than just teammates.

"Same time tomorrow?" Kōzaru asked as their paths diverged.

"Actually," Tatsuma grinned, "tomorrow we're back to training with Shibi-sensei."

"Right," Aotaka said, stretching his shoulder. "Back to getting our asses kicked in new ways."

"Can't wait," Kōzaru said, and surprisingly, he meant it.

They parted with the easy camaraderie of young warriors who had faced the worst together and emerged stronger. Each carried renewed purpose from remembering what normal life looked like and why it was worth protecting.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges and opportunities to grow stronger. But tonight, they would sleep peacefully, knowing they had earned this moment of peace through their dedication and sacrifice.

The war continued around them, indifferent to their small victories and personal growth. But for Team 15, today had been exactly what they needed—a reminder that life was worth living, friendship worth preserving, and that strength came not just from individual ability but from bonds forged between those who faced danger together.