For half a month, Uchiha Gen lived quietly within the clan compound.
His days were full; mornings spent practicing the Spirit Transformation Technique, afternoons training his body and studying nature transformations, evenings weaving genjutsu or refining snake-type ninjutsu.
On top of that, he poured energy into developing two techniques he had been anticipating for some time.
It was a disciplined routine, every hour accounted for.
Uzuki Yugao came by again during this period. Gen took time to spar with her, give advice, and sharpen her fundamentals.
She couldn't visit daily, as a young genin, she still had missions to complete with her squad. Work was survival; missions meant money.
Compared to her, Gen's life in Konoha was unusually free. Even with his duties assisting Orochimaru in research, he often had half the day to himself. Few shinobi in the village could claim that kind of leisure.
One afternoon, after lunch, Gen sat in his living room, watching snowflakes drift past the window. Something stirred in him — an impulse.
He stood, left his house, and walked through the cold streets until he reached the Police Force building. Climbing to the third floor, he stopped before the office of the clan head and knocked.
"Come in."
The calm, clipped voice belonged to Uchiha Fugaku. Gen pushed open the door, bowed slightly.
"Clan Head."
Fugaku sat behind his desk, clad in a green flak vest. His face, always serious, softened into the faintest of smiles. "Gen. Sit. What brings you here?"
"Thank you, but I won't keep you long." Gen remained standing, respectful.
"It isn't a big matter. Orochimaru-sensei has given me personal orders that require me to leave the village. I came to request leave, and hope the clan head will approve."
By rank, a deputy captain in the Police Force should request leave from his squad leader. But Gen's situation was unique, his role in the department was nominal, and his true status was as Orochimaru's disciple.
Strict procedure mattered less than the appearance of respect.
Fugaku understood this perfectly. Even though Orochimaru had failed to become Hokage, his power made him impossible to ignore. "Very well," Fugaku said after a moment. "Don't worry about the paperwork. I'll see to it you're not marked absent. Otherwise, your salary would take a cut."
Gen bowed slightly again. "Thank you, Patriarch."
A paid vacation, then. And with the clan leader's blessing, there would be no whispers against him.
Fugaku waved him off with his usual gravity. "Go on."
"Yes."
From there, Gen traveled to the forest, descending into the hidden research base where Orochimaru conducted his experiments. He lent his hands to the work until the session ended. Only then did he speak.
"Orochimaru-sensei. I plan to leave the village for a time."
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed, interest flickering. "Leave the village? To rob the rich and aid the poor?"
"Something like that," Gen said.
A thin smile curled Orochimaru's lips. "Then go. Do you need intelligence support?"
Gen shook his head. "If I can't handle something this small myself, it would shame your name as my teacher."
Orochimaru chuckled. "Heh… indeed."
The matter needed no further words. Orochimaru understood the rest without being asked.
That afternoon, Gen stayed and helped with more experiments before finally returning home for dinner. He refined his chakra for an hour and went to bed on schedule, mind already set.
The next morning, he skipped cooking and walked to Ichiraku Ramen instead.
A steaming bowl of special chashu noodles served as breakfast. From there, he made his way through the snow-draped village toward the main gate.
The storm had thickened during the night. By dawn, the streets were buried under a clean white layer. Few pedestrians braved the cold, and the air carried the sharp freshness of winter.
Gen wore warm inner layers beneath a black jacket, thermal pants and dark trousers tucked neatly under boots, and over all of it, a black cloak lined with silver stripes. His handsome features and calm stride cut a striking figure against the snow.
At the gate, two chunin in flak jackets stopped him to record his departure. Gen filled out the register with a steady hand.
These weren't the familiar Izumo and Kotetsu who usually handled guard shifts, but two other chunin he didn't recognize. One frowned at the reason Gen wrote down and looked ready to refuse. The older of the two caught his arm.
"Wait. Who exactly are you?"
"Konoha jonin," Gen replied coolly. "Uchiha Gen, disciple of Orochimaru."
The younger chunin stiffened. His companion sucked in a quiet breath.
Can't afford to cross this one.
"Please, go ahead." The older one stepped aside quickly.
Gen gave a slight nod and passed through the gates, his figure melting into the snowy wilderness.
Only after he disappeared did the younger chunin mutter in frustration. "Why did you stop me? His reason for leaving doesn't follow regulations. Police Force shinobi can't just..."
"You're still too young," the older man cut him off. "Orochimaru lost the Hokage seat. He's bitter, dangerous. If we block his apprentice, do you want to be scapegoats?"
"But rules are rules," the younger protested weakly.
"Rules?" The older chunin's eyes narrowed, world-weary. "Rules bind the weak, not the powerful. We're ordinary shinobi with families to feed. Don't be so rigid. If something happens while he's gone, we just report it up the chain and look helpless."
In the end, the departure record was passed layer by layer until it reached the desk of the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato.
Minato's gaze lingered on the entry for a long moment before he wrote three words: I understand. Then he set it aside with the other processed documents.
Strictly speaking, Gen's reason for leaving didn't meet regulations. And as a police officer, he technically wasn't permitted to leave the village without necessity. But Minato had no intention of pressing the issue.
He was newly seated as Hokage, already burdened with countless matters. To pick a fight with Orochimaru over something this small would only invite strife. It would earn the disapproval of Hiruzen and his advisors, and strain ties with both Orochimaru and the Uchiha clan.
Politics was compromise. To hold power meant constantly weighing relationships, avoiding unnecessary enemies, and choosing carefully which battles to fight.
Gen understood this just as well. He hadn't bothered fabricating a convincing excuse because he knew Minato wouldn't interfere.
Classes, privilege, hierarchy — they existed everywhere.
Even if he had been born an ordinary civilian, Gen would never deny it.