I was sitting in the academy, paying no attention to the noise around me. Listening to the conversations of my classmates, I sank deeper into my own thoughts. My funds were starting to run out, and considering the growing tension in the village, spending money had become not just a problem, but a real necessity. War didn't just mean increased mobility for shinobi — it also meant rising prices for everything. Food, weapons, and training materials had all become significantly more expensive.
"I need to come up with something. Money doesn't grow on trees, and my savings are almost gone," I thought, staring thoughtfully at the desk in front of me.
The teachers continued their lessons, but my gaze had lost its focus. The war was progressing, and many of my classmates were becoming more and more tense — just like the rest of the village. The mobilization affected everyone, and even those who weren't actively participating in battles suffered from economic instability.
Soon, we would be graduating, and that would be the only chance to start doing something more serious. But for now, in the academy, everything was still within the bounds of the usual program. Of course, training on the field and theoretical classes had become much more intense than before, but still — besides gaining skills, I had to learn how to make money.
I was distracted by a group of classmates who were actively discussing the upcoming exams and their plans for the future. It was natural — everyone dreamed of graduating soon, becoming real shinobi, going on missions, and earning respect. But I couldn't afford to think so naively.
It all came down to money. To make money, you needed money. That vicious cycle infuriated me. I had ideas, but none of them suited me. For example, I could look for a proper job, but I probably wouldn't get hired. First, I was too young for a real job, and second, I couldn't work full eight-hour shifts anyway — I needed to train, develop my skills, and there just wasn't enough time for anything else.
"Hey, what are you thinking about?" said Guy, approaching me with an animated look on his face.
"Eh… I need money," I replied, not trying to hide what was bothering me. Guy was my friend, and I didn't want to keep anything from him.
Guy calmed down and continued with a serious expression.
"Well, then work at the post office! I work there too," he said, sitting down next to me. "No hard labor, and there's still time left for training! Plus, you can even get some extra bonuses if you do well."
I thought about it. The post office... It wasn't exactly the perfect job, but it seemed suitable, considering my situation. I could work there without spending too much time, and there would still be enough left for training.
"Not a bad idea," I said, smiling slightly. "How is it there? All good?"
Guy nodded cheerfully.
"Yeah, it's simple. We deliver letters — pretty much any academy student can work there."
I considered the information Guy had given me. The post office... The job didn't seem too difficult, wouldn't require long hours, and according to Guy, would still allow me to continue my training. That was an important advantage. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that something might go wrong. The job definitely wouldn't bring in a lot of money, that was certain. But on the other hand, I had to do something just to keep myself afloat in the face of growing instability.
"Guy, how much do they pay there?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, trying to imagine how much I could earn.
Guy paused for a second, then replied cheerfully:
"Well, the pay's decent — for a start. We get paid twice a month, and if you prove yourself, you can earn a bit more. Plus, there are bonuses for fast and high-quality deliveries!"
"Alright," I said, getting up from my seat. "I'll go and apply after class. For now, this is the best option."
Guy immediately broke into a wide grin, like he had just won some important battle.
After class, I headed toward the post office, thinking through my next steps. The job wasn't ideal, but if it allowed me to maintain a balance between earning and training, it could be a temporary solution. Besides, if I did well, I could earn extra bonuses — and that wouldn't hurt either.
When I arrived at the office, I was greeted by an older man with silver hair and a serious look in his eyes. He was sitting at a desk, going through some papers. When he saw me, he looked up and, without smiling, asked:
"What do you want?"
"I want to apply for a job," I said, feeling a small knot of nervousness tighten in my chest.
The man frowned and shook his head.
"Why do you want to work here?"
"I need money," I replied, trying to sound confident. "And I've got time. I'll work fast and efficiently. I promise I'll take the job seriously."
The man kept studying me with his gaze. He was probably trying to decide whether I could be trusted with the job.
"Alright," he finally said, tossing a form onto the desk. "Fill this out, and I'll give you a trial task. If you handle it — you've got the job. If not — don't take it personally."
I quickly filled out the necessary paperwork and returned to him. He took the form and nodded, pointing at a small stack of letters and packages nearby.
"Newbie quota is 100 letters a day. But for the trial, it'll be 10. Deliver them exactly as listed."
I let out a small sigh of relief. The quota wasn't small, of course, but considering I didn't need to work 8 hours a day, I could still manage my time to keep training while completing the job.
"Got it," I said, taking the address list. "I'll do it."
He nodded, and I, clutching the stack of letters, headed for the door. The first steps of this new job were taken. Now I just needed to pass the test and prove — to myself and everyone else — that I could balance work and training without losing my way.
I took the 10 letters, clenched my fists, feeling the tension in my chest, and dashed out the door as it closed behind me. There was pressure burning inside me, but I focused. Instantly channeling chakra into my legs, I felt strength and speed flood my movements. Scanning the addresses on the envelopes, I quickly calculated the most efficient route and bolted toward the first house.
The first steps came easily, using chakra to accelerate. The letter was delivered in seconds. Dashing up the stairs, I handed it to the recipient.
As I reached the next house, I was practically flying. I burst in, nearly slipping on the steps, and quickly handed off the letter. Realizing I could push my speed further, I activated more chakra, allowing myself to move almost like a shadow. Each new delivery was made with blazing speed, without stopping for even a moment.
When I reached the last house, only 20 minutes had passed, and I was ready to finish the job. Every movement was sharp and deliberate — I minimized wasted time and avoided unnecessary steps.
DONE! I thought, slightly out of breath.
Now I just need to get back to the office, fast!
By the time I reached the post office, it had been nearly 20 minutes since I started. I rushed through the hallway and approached the desk where the evaluation awaited. My eyes met those of the senior postman — and the form.
"All done," I said, breathing heavily, but proud of my speed.
The postman didn't waste time. He immediately started checking. He looked over the letters, verified the addresses, and marked the time. A few seconds later, he looked up, a hint of surprise on his face.
"Impressive," the older man said with a slight smile. "All letters delivered in 20 minutes. You're definitely cut out for this job."