Shinobi Isekai: Round Three

Curious

Sakumo opened his eyes to arguing. It wasn't unusual to have disagreements break out among the troops, especially in the face of the overwhelming power of Kumo's front line. The Land of Lightning was filled with powerful shinobi, every other ninja a heavy hitter. Might made right in Kumo, after all. Konoha barely managed to preserve its own borders using agility and guile, the many kekkei genkai of its Clans working in tandem to keep Kumo back. With so many different temperaments forced to share quarters for so long, it was only natural that some clash.

But not so loudly. Did those idiots want to be attacked? Konoha's advantage came from their better stealth, but no amount of genjutsu would hide those voices.

It was only after sitting up that he remembered he wasn't on the frontlines, anymore. He was sitting on the floor of Benihime's temple home, a worn, threadbare blanket draped over him. He wasn't in the kitchen, this time, and a quick look around told him he was probably in the bedroom. There was a raised cot pressed against a back wall, jars and scrolls stuffed underneath it in haphazard storage. There were shelves, but they, too, were laden with jars likely filled with foodstuffs. The cot, itself, was little more than a woven mat laid over a wooden platform and he realized with a guilty start that he had the only blanket.

This was nothing like a child's room should be. Benihime was only eight. She should be at an academy, playing with children her age, learning the history of her village, giggling over boys like girls often did, and going home to a family with warm meals she didn't have to hunt down and a bed covered in soft blankets. Instead, she was here, in a crumbling temple, sleeping on a wooden slab and giving her blanket to a stranger.

Speaking of, why was he in her bedroom?

The last thing he remembered was...something about an argument between Kushina and the man who lived at the temple—Roshi, was it? He'd stepped outside to see what it was about and...

Nothing. That was it.

Concerning.

He stood, folding the blanket neatly and laying it on the cot. He walked through Benihime's home, taking it in with a shinobi's eye. There were no doors, only empty archways were doors might have been, long ago. A long hallway ran through the building, rooms branching off on either side with an alcove at the very end. There was a shrine there, he noted, though not to any god he recognized. There was a green lacquered statue of a rhinoceros beetle, its horn stained by generations of worshippers applying red dye. Above it, there were two sticks tied together, one longer than the other. He could think of no meaning for it, but there were candles, incense, and food offerings left on the table beneath it, so it clearly had some significance. He spent all of one second wondering where the girl had found such luxuries as candles and incense before remembering they were, technically, in a temple. Even if no one could reach it, such things were a staple in all religions across the Elemental Nations.

As he walked down the hall, he peeked into the rooms he passed. Many were empty, completely devoid of even basic furniture. One or two, toward the front of the home, were used for storage. The kitchen was one of the last rooms before the exit out to the courtyard, the mushrooms and plants he remembered Benihime washing now neatly stored away in jars of their own or laid out to dry on circular mats she probably wove herself. It was a traditional kitchen. Only the oldest buildings in Konoha still had them, as many civilian homes and even some of the more progress minded Clans switching over to the more 'modern' style kitchens with gas stoves and electric cold storage. His home was one of them, his wife insisting on the 'safer' stove with knobs and a taller height when she learned she was with child.

Ah, Kakashi. How was he doing? Was Dai taking care of him? Was he eating alright? He was going through a picky eating phase the last time he saw him. Had he gotten over it?