That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

Suzuki didn’t want to kill, but he understood the grim necessity of it. Some people were simply better off dead—or needed to be forcefully taught that death was a mercy compared to the consequences of their actions.

He shook his head, desperate to cast away such heavy, suffocating thoughts. He just wanted to rest.

Fortunately, there was a hot spring town nearby. He immediately booked the absolute best rooms at a high-end inn, determined to enjoy a brief slice of vacation. Naturally, he paid for Yugao’s room as well, despite his previously sour mood. He wasn’t petty enough to hold a grudge against her. After all, she was just following Sarutobi’s orders; as an Anbu subordinate, it wasn’t like she could refuse the Hokage.

Frankly, Suzuki felt lucky she hadn’t snapped at him for his arrogant attitude earlier. My aura must have been genuinely terrifying, he mused.

”It’s fine. You don’t have to rent a luxury room for me,” Yugao had protested earlier, her cheeks flushing slightly at the lavish expense. ”I can just sleep out in the hall on guard duty.”

”Of course I can’t let you do that,” Suzuki had replied smoothly. ”You protected me out there, so let me treat you. Just rest your body for tonight; we’ll meet again tomorrow.”

With Yugao left staring at his retreating back in a flustered daze, Suzuki had retreated to the steaming onsen to wash the grime and tension away.

Now, freshly scrubbed and smelling of sandalwood soap, Suzuki lay sprawled on the plush futon in his room. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered what to do with his life. His path was vastly different from his alternate selves. The other Suzukis possessed absolute freedom, while his own trajectory in Konoha was rigid. No matter how much strength he acquired, rising through the ranks took time and politics.

If he revealed his true power right now, he would only attract a mountain of trouble. Being overpowered in this world—like Madara, Hashirama, or Naruto—meant constantly being dragged into world-ending conflicts. He definitely didn’t want that.

”I just want to live in comfort...” he muttered.

Yet, he knew that was a massive luxury in the ninja world. This was a place where killing was a daily trade, village betrayals were as common as breathing, and even the Daimyo were functionally powerless. No one was truly safe.

Was world peace even possible? Suzuki figured the only way to achieve it was the canon route: letting Naruto and Sasuke become literal nuclear deterrents to terrify the Five Great Nations into cooperating. But even they weren’t omnipotent, and Naruto’s blind, blinding positivity always rubbed Suzuki the wrong way.

”Shit... I’m getting a headache just thinking about this.”

Why was he even stressing over world peace? Wouldn’t it be easier to just let the world rot and enjoy his own life, like the Suzuki from Tensura?

Ah, right. Harem life.

When he factored in his current physical age versus the heroines of this world, he couldn’t help but sigh. The law was the law, and he didn’t want to be a creep.

What about the adult women, then?

The mothers of my classmates?

Suzuki fell into deep contemplation, pondering the forbidden allure of mature, married kunoichi. The drama, the scandalous stigma... it was a terrifyingly degenerate route to consider. Then again, if stunning women like Kushina or Mikoto were still around, he might have genuinely been tempted to take that dangerous plunge.

As he rolled around on his futon, thoroughly lost in his own spicy fantasies, a soft knock echoed against the sliding door.

”Suzuki-kun.”

”Hmm?”

”It’s me.”

”Yugao-san?”

”Can I come in?”

Suzuki fell completely silent for a moment, hastily clearing his throat. ”Okay.”

The door slid open. Soft, deliberate footsteps padded across the tatami mats, practically demanding his attention, but Suzuki stubbornly kept his back turned, pretending to be casually resting on his futon.

Yugao didn’t say a word at first. She just stared at his back before gracefully kneeling right beside him. The faint, sweet scent of her bath soap immediately drifted into his nose.

”Are you exhausted?” she asked softly.

”It’s normal.” Suzuki truly was exhausted. Wasn’t it normal in this hellish, high-stress world?

”I think you’ve worked incredibly hard, though.”

”Have I? There are plenty of people with a much worse fate than mine.”

”Such as?”

”Er... Sasuke?”

Yugao blinked. ”...”

”Honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t gone completely insane after his older brother massacred his entire clan.”

”Yeah...” Yugao murmured. If she were in Sasuke’s shoes, she had no idea how she would cope.

”But you’ve worked hard too,” Suzuki added, trying to shift the focus. ”Even though I treated you so coldly earlier, you’re still checking up on me.”

Suzuki knew he was acting like a bit of a jerk by refusing to look at her. He just needed time to process his dark mood from earlier—and the dangerous thoughts he had just been entertaining.

”Then... let’s sleep together.”

”Why?!”

Suzuki whipped his head around, staring at her in sheer disbelief. He tried his absolute hardest to maintain a neutral expression, but it was a losing battle. Uzuki Yugao was devastatingly charming.

She had just come from the bath. Her mature, toned curves were barely contained by a thin, loosely tied sleeping yukata. Her snow-white skin practically glowed in the dim room, and she had messily pinned up her long purple hair, leaving the incredibly pale, sensitive skin of her nape completely exposed. As she leaned forward, the collar of her yukata dipped dangerously low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the soft, heavy cleavage hidden beneath the fabric.

”Finally, you look at me,” Yugao purred, her eyes softening with a warm, alluring glow.

”...If you’re just here to tease me, go back to your room.” Suzuki immediately turned his back to her again, curling his body tightly to hide the very sudden, very inappropriate physical reaction stirring below his waist.

”Sorry, sorry,” Yugao giggled, though her voice betrayed zero actual regret.

Instead of leaving, she closed the distance. Her soft, warm front pressed lightly against his back, and her slender fingers draped over his shoulders, caressing his muscles in a playful, maddeningly slow rhythm. It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to lose his mind.

”Don’t be angry, okay?” she whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear.

”I’m not angry.”

”Liar.” Yugao pouted, leaning her weight fully onto him. ”Then why won’t you face me?”

”It doesn’t matter.”

”Face me, Suzuki-kun.”

”No, it’s really not a good idea. Just let me calm down for a bit, okay?”

”Why?”

Determined to see his face, Yugao reached down and gave his shoulder a firm tug. Suzuki tried to resist, clamping his hands down on his futon. But no matter how skilled the ninja, a slip-up is bound to happen. As he shifted to counter her pull, his grip on the blanket failed.

The thick fabric slipped away entirely, exposing his lower half to the cool room air.

More importantly, it completely exposed the aggressively pitched, undeniably massive tent standing proudly at the center of his yukata.

”.....” Yugao.

”.....” Suzuki.