Land of Fire, Konohagakure.
A shinobi in a gray-blue jacket walked unhurriedly into the mission office. With a relaxed smile, he greeted acquaintances along the way, exchanging the usual empty pleasantries.
"Was the mission smooth?"
"Thanks to you, very smooth."
"I heard your child is entering the Ninja Academy this year. Congratulations."
"Hahaha, thank you. The kid's more talented than me—might even become a jonin someday."
"Is that so? That's impressive."
He passed through the main hall and headed toward the office for high-level mission turn-ins, greeting people as he went. Clearly, he was well-liked.
But the moment he turned into a quiet corridor, the smile on his face vanished instantly.
He worked his jaw, then rubbed his cheeks with both hands, trying to ease the stiffness in his face.
From the village gate all the way here, he'd been smiling nonstop—his face was sore.
What a load of pointless chatter.
He'd completed a B-rank mission without a scratch—how could it not have gone smoothly?
And saying a kid would become a jonin just for entering the Academy… why not just say they'd become Hokage while you're at it?
Utter nonsense.
People in this village really weren't as straightforward as those in the civilian quarters. Honestly, even a simple "Have you eaten?" would sound better than all that forced politeness.
From the moment he entered the village, everyone he passed knew him. He had no choice but to keep up that polite smile the entire way.
A smile that didn't come from the heart was especially exhausting.
Even after loosening his jaw, it still felt stiff, so he rubbed his face harder until it hurt. Only then did it ease a little.
He stretched his lower back next.
What he disliked most about modern shinobi culture was this so-called "elite class" attitude. Everyone was trying to imitate noble etiquette—bowing to everyone they met.
His back ached from it.
The gray-clad shinobi placed his hands on his hips, twisted his waist a few times, then bounced lightly on his feet. Only then did his body finally relax.
He pushed open the office door, a faint, calm smile returning to his face.
This time, it was genuine.
The shinobi inside, who had been reviewing documents, looked up. Seeing the young man, he smiled.
"Not bad. Completing such a difficult B-rank mission—your promotion to chunin is basically guaranteed."
"I have to thank you for the recommendation, Captain."
"No need. I recommended you because your strength is sufficient. If it were another genin handling this assessment mission, they'd probably be dead without even a body left."
"I should still thank you."
"In my opinion, opportunity is the most important resource. You gave it to me instead of someone else—that's my good fortune."
"What's there to thank about a dangerous B-rank mission? You could've just taken the Chunin Exams…"
The older shinobi suddenly paused, clearly remembering something.
The young man scratched his messy black hair and gave a wry smile.
"If I went to the Chunin Exams, it'd be far more dangerous than a B-rank mission."
"After all, I carry the name 'Uchiha'…"
The older shinobi, already gray-haired, let out a helpless laugh.
"Ah… right, right. I actually forgot—you're an Uchiha…"
"…Danzo."
He looked at the young man again, noticing the calm expression that hadn't changed, and shook his head.
"Can't blame me for forgetting. Aside from your surname, in what way are you like an Uchiha?"
"Arrogant, hot-tempered, prideful, looking down on others, rough in methods—you're none of that."
"Haha, at least I have the Sharingan."
"Oh? You actually have the Sharingan? I've been your captain for two years—why have I never seen you use it?"
"That's because you're too strong, Captain. I've never needed it."
"You brat… still as smooth-talking as ever."
They chatted and laughed as they completed the mission handover. The older shinobi issued the mission completion certificate.
Only with that document could the reward be collected.
As for promotion to chunin, that would still take time.
After all, promotions required approval from the Hokage himself—and his personal signature.
Just as the young man was about to leave, the older shinobi called out again.
"Uchiha Yoru. Since you're no longer part of the Military Police Force, what are your plans?"
Yoru shrugged casually.
"No special plans. I'll just take missions as a freelance shinobi."
"Thanks to you, I'll be promoted to chunin soon. After that, I can accept missions on my own. With my strength, making a living won't be a problem."
The older shinobi shook his head and sighed.
"There aren't many missions one person can handle. You might get by, but life won't be easy."
"No helping it. I wanted to stay in the Police Force, but Elder Uchiha Setsuna thought I was too soft—unfit to represent the clan's authority. He insisted on removing me, and Captain Yashiro couldn't do anything about it."
"I see… I was wondering. You were doing so well there—even improving the Uchiha's reputation—yet you still got dismissed."
"So it was that idiot Setsuna."
The older shinobi clearly held seniority, speaking without restraint.
Yoru silently agreed.
In his eyes, Setsuna was nothing but a burden—perfectly matched with their political enemy, Danzo Shimura. One pushing from within, the other from outside, together driving the Uchiha clan toward destruction.
As for Uchiha Shisui and Uchiha Itachi, they were merely the desperate struggle of the younger generation when the clan had already reached a dead end.
Shisui was simply naïve.
So naïve that he couldn't distinguish friend from foe, stubbornly believing their enemies could save the clan—only to meet a tragic end.
And Itachi…
He was a madman.
His actions defied logic.
Then there was Uchiha Obito—a completely self-centered lunatic.
Just thinking about the fact that all three of them would awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan made Yoru feel a chill about the future.
It was as if a blood-red countdown hovered above his head—
And above the heads of all his relatives.
Most of them sharing the same number.
I really want to defect…
But the shinobi world was dangerous.
He was still too weak.
Only by staying within the Uchiha clan compound, under its protection, could he ensure his safety.
For now, it wasn't the time to openly oppose that old man Setsuna.
So he didn't continue the topic.
He simply smiled, waited for his captain to finish venting, then bowed and took his leave.
With the mission certificate, he exchanged it for 120,000 ryo. Taking a portion of it, he headed to the market to buy ingredients.
This mission had taken seven days.
Without any proper storage at home, whatever food he'd left behind was definitely spoiled.
He needed to restock.
Konoha's market was lively and well-stocked. Yoru quickly bought white sesame seeds, seaweed, chicken breast, carrots, and eggs.
After a moment's thought, he added soy sauce and a few spices.
Back home, he first threw out all the spoiled food, then cleaned away the dust that had accumulated over the past week.
Checking the rice jar, he found no weevils and no signs of mice.
Satisfied, he scooped out a full bowl of rice, rinsed it twice, then poured it into a pot, added water, and lit the fire.
As the aroma of rice began to fill the room—
Bang!
The window latch he had deliberately left open was suddenly pushed wide.
A gray blur shot into the room like lightning, bouncing off the windowsill and chair before landing in front of him.
A tabby cat landed gracefully on the table, lifting its chin proudly as it looked down at him.
"Meow. You're finally back, Yoru."
"I'm hungry, meow."
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