The mission-centre grounds were livelier than usual for mid-morning, with shinobi and civilians alike weaving between rows of makeshift tents and wooden stalls. Repairs on the main administrative building still dominated the area; the scent of fresh lumber mixed oddly with the sharp tang of metal and ink as temporary mission booths bustled under stretched canvas.
In the middle of it all, three exhausted genin loitered outside the mission-centre tent like they had been dropped there and left to fend for themselves.
Satoru, Ren, and Mariko sat in a crooked semicircle on a patch of dry dirt, their shadows short in the late-morning sun. Their sensei, Sayuri, had marched off minutes earlier to speak with the Hokage, leaving them to their devices with the payouts of their mission.
Satoru shook the pouch again; the coins clinked with that gratifying metallic rhythm. "It really is eighty thousand ryō," he murmured.
The three fell silent.
Satoru should have stopped there. He did not.
He cleared his throat with great formality. "Well then… I've calculated the fairest split."
Ren's eyes narrowed. "The fairest split according to who?"
Satoru lifted his chin, adopting the air of someone making a noble declaration. "According to basic arithmetic and common sense. I take thirty thousand; you and Mariko split twenty-five thousand each."
There was a single moment of perfect, crystalline silence.
Then Ren barked, "Why do you get the most?!"
Mariko immediately added, louder, "And why do we only get twenty-five?! This is outrageously biased!"
Satoru crossed his arms, radiating smugness. "Because I did the most work, obviously. I took down the most chunin-level bandits."
Mariko scoffed so hard it was almost a whistle. "Please. I defeated way more genin-level bandits than you did."
Satoru stared at her like she had just declared the Earth was flat. "Mariko. You cannot surely compare beating up genins to taking down chunin. The difference is enormous."
Ren nodded immediately. "Yeah, she has no point. The jump from genin to chunin is huge—"
"Ren!" Mariko snapped. "Since when do you take his side?!"
Ren shrugged. "Since this time he actually makes sense."
Mariko's nostrils flared; she crossed her arms with imperial disdain. "I refuse to be judged by you two. I worked just as hard."
"You worked hard," Satoru allowed, "but not chunin hard."
"I should get thirty thousand!" she insisted. "And you two should split the rest."
Satoru gaped at her. "On what planet?!"
Ren threw his hands in the air. "I am surrounded by lunatics."
A few chunin walking by slowed to watch, because nothing was more entertaining than freshly paid genin arguing.
Satoru jabbed a finger at Mariko. "You're already a Sarutobi. You don't need extra money."
Mariko flushed pink. "A girl… has her needs…"
Ren snorted. "Yeah, like extremely expensive hair-care products."
Mariko gasped in affront. "How dare you! It's maintenance! Do you think natural shine comes effortlessly?!"
Satoru sighed dramatically. "Point still stands. A clan princess like you doesn't need more money."
Mariko's eyes sharpened. "Oh, don't you dare. You're one to talk, Yamanaka."
Satoru stiffened. "I just joined the clan only weeks ago. I have zero privileges."
Mariko smirked. "Still counts."
"No, it really doesn't," Satoru said sharply. "I'm basically an orphan with a surname attached. You two should have some conscience toward the less fortunate of the village."
Ren muttered, "He guilt-trips like a professional…"
Satoru ignored him.
Mariko folded her arms again. "Fine. If we're talking 'needs,' I still have them. And I refuse to be underpaid because you two are boys."
Ren rubbed his temples. "This is pointless."
Mariko jabbed him. "You haven't even argued for yourself!"
Ren straightened suddenly. "Actually—now that you mention it—I should get the most."
"What." Satoru and Mariko said together.
Ren lifted his chin, adopting genuine gravitas. "I'm the only civilian-born member of the team. I don't have any clan support. No backup money. No inheritance. If anything, I'm the one who needs it most. Therefore, I get forty thousand; you two split the rest."
Mariko's jaw dropped. "You greedy little—!"
Satoru's Sharingan almost activated out of sheer disbelief. "Ren, are you insane?!"
Ren shrugged. "You both made selfish arguments; I'm simply making mine."
Mariko almost threw a kunai at him. Satoru had to physically restrain her wrist.
Their voices rose; accusations flew; renegotiations devolved into utter chaos.
"Your logic is garbage!"
"You're both spoiled!"
"You're literally royalty!"
"I am not royalty!"
"You act like it!"
"Both of you are shameless!"
"Oh, like you're not?!"
A passing chunin looked over with a long-suffering expression. "Keep it down, brats."
They ignored him completely.
The argument spiraled in circles. The more they tried to reason, the more unreasonable they became.
Satoru accused Mariko of "Sarutobi-level entitlement."
Mariko accused Satoru of being "a manipulative orphan with main-character syndrome."
Ren interrupted to complain about struggling as a civilian, only to get snapped at by both of them.
Other genin teams gathered to watch.
Someone whispered, "They're still going?"
Another replied, "This is better than the theatre."
Satoru finally thrust a hand upward, slicing through the noise like a commander stopping a battlefield.
"Enough."
Ren and Mariko halted mid-argument. A hush fell over the immediate area. Even the chunin clerk behind the counter peeked out.
Satoru stood tall, wearing an expression that would make even a Hyūga take him seriously.
"We will settle this fairly. No more bickering."
Mariko narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What are you planning?"
Ren folded his arms. "If this is another guilt-trip speech—"
"No." Satoru's lips curled into a slow, confident smirk. "I have a real solution."
Their eyes locked onto him.
Satoru let the tension build; let anticipation thicken the air; let the moment ripen into dramatic perfection.
Then, with utter confidence, he declared:
"We'll settle it with a bet; a three-way spar."
Ren blinked. "A what?"
"Winner," Satoru continued, "takes all eighty thousand ryō."
Mariko stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Satoru… are you serious?"
"I'm always serious about money," he replied.
Ren's mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "Satoru… you want us to beat the life out of each other for cash?"
Satoru shrugged, smirk widening. "You wanted fairness. This is fairness."
Mariko groaned. "You're insane."
Satoru nodded. "And eighty thousand ryō will heal me."
Ren looked horrified and intrigued at the same time. "Sayuri-sensei is going to kill us if we do this."
Satoru countered, "Only if she finds out."
Mariko pinched the bridge of her nose. "She will find out. She always finds out."
"We'll cross that bridge later," Satoru said confidently.
Ren and Mariko exchanged a look that said: This is stupid, but we're too tired to do anything else.
Satoru watched their resolve crumble, felt their competitiveness rise. He had them.
Ren exhaled. "Fine. If this is how we settle it, then I'm in."
Mariko squared her shoulders. "Same. I refuse to lose."
Satoru clasped his hands behind his back, radiating satisfaction. "Excellent."
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