Thank you for the meal, senpai.
I’ll be heading home now.
Itachi had refused to take any share of the money recovered from Shinya.
He argued that he had contributed nothing toward obtaining it and that it had never been part of their original agreement on how the mission reward would be divided.
In the end, he accepted only the twenty thousand ryō promised to him for the mission itself.
In exchange, Shuji paid the entire bill at Yakiniku Q.
As dusk deepened, Shuji rubbed his aching shoulder and prepared to head home and resume his training.
Before he could get far, a figure wearing an animal mask appeared silently around the corner.
“The Hokage has summoned you.” The ANBU shinobi’s voice was completely flat.
Shuji scratched his head helplessly and glanced at the fading sunset.
The feeling was painfully familiar—like being called back to work for unexpected overtime in his previous life.
With a resigned sigh, he followed the ANBU operative, and the two disappeared into the gathering darkness.
Inside the Hokage’s Office, the last rays of sunset painted the room in warm gold.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood with his back to the door, the hem of his Hokage robes stirring gently in the breeze.
Hearing footsteps behind him, he slowly turned.
Pale smoke curled from his pipe and drifted lazily through the shafts of evening light.
“You handled this mission very well.
Good work.” The Third Hokage’s voice was warm, but the eyes that had witnessed decades of conflict remained as sharp as ever.
He removed the pipe from his mouth and exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
“You’re giving me too much credit, Lord Hokage.” “No.
I’m simply stating the truth.” Hiruzen walked toward his desk and lightly tapped his pipe against its edge, scattering a few flecks of ash.
“When you were stationed on the border, you never displayed this kind of talent…” His tone shifted almost imperceptibly.
“Shuji, what do you think of Itachi?” “His talent is exceptional.
Far beyond anyone else his age.” “That boy no longer has a teammate.
Neither do you.” Hiruzen’s voice grew slightly heavier.
“Since the two of you worked well together, I’m considering keeping you on the same team.” “As for the remaining vacancies, I’ll arrange suitable members.” Shuji frowned slightly.
“Given my experience, I don’t think I’m qualified to serve as a team leader and instructor yet.” Under Konoha’s usual system, there were only two realistic ways to organize a team like this.
Either Shuji would become the squad leader and be assigned two more genin, or he would be placed with chūnin or even jōnin, in which case the team would begin taking missions at B-rank or higher.
“This is Itachi’s own request.” Hiruzen’s gaze moved past Shuji toward the darkening sky outside the window.
“He doesn’t want to be placed on another genin team…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Shuji understood.
The boy had watched his teammate die horribly before his eyes.
He didn’t want to experience that again.
“If you’re unwilling, I completely understand,” Hiruzen continued, blowing out a ring of smoke as his fingers tapped softly against the desk.
“Having a genin participate in higher-level missions is hardly ideal.
It would be irresponsible to both of you.” A brief silence settled over the office, broken only by the faint crackle of burning tobacco.
Then the Third Hokage rose, his broad robes sweeping around him.
“Still…” The man who had governed Konoha for so many years made no attempt to pressure him.
He turned back toward Shuji, genuine consideration in his eyes.
“I hope you’ll think about it carefully.” “If you refuse, there are members of the Uchiha clan willing to take Itachi on missions.” Hiruzen paused, a complicated emotion flickering through his eyes.
“But if possible, I would prefer that an Uchiha child’s world not remain confined entirely within the clan.” Shuji considered his words before asking, “What does his father think?
And what is the Uchiha clan’s position on this?” “Fugaku won’t object,” Hiruzen replied calmly.
“In that case, I have no objections either.” The wrinkles at the corners of Hiruzen’s eyes relaxed, and a pleased expression crossed his face.
“As expected of…” He paused.
“Shuji, how is Lady Momoka’s health?” “She’s doing well.” Shuji’s answer was brief.
Hiruzen nodded and pulled a slightly worn file from one of his desk drawers.
Shuji caught a glimpse of it and immediately recognized his own personnel record.
Right in front of him, the Third Hokage picked up a pen and began writing.
“For the time being, you won’t need to accept any new missions.” He continued writing.
“You should also begin preparing for promotion to jōnin.” “Jōnin?” This time, Shuji was genuinely surprised.
Jōnin held tremendous status within Konoha.
They were the village’s true core military force, standing directly beneath the Kage in the shinobi hierarchy.
In theory, every jōnin possessed the qualifications to become a candidate for Hokage.
For that very reason, the rank was never handed out casually, and the number of jōnin was tightly controlled.
Looking through Konoha’s history, only a handful of shinobi had reached jōnin rank while still in their teens—Kakashi Hatake, Might Guy, and in the future, Neji Hyūga, among others.
All of them possessed extraordinary talent and sufficient strength, but their promotions were often intertwined with unusual circumstances or tremendous personal sacrifice.
Kakashi’s father, Sakumo Hatake—the White Fang—had died under deeply troubling circumstances.
Might Duy had sacrificed his life to save his son, crippling most of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist in the process.
Hizashi Hyūga had willingly died in place of his brother to prevent a war.
When the village promoted people like them, compensation and reassurance were sometimes part of the calculation as well.
“Only to special jōnin,” Hiruzen added at precisely the right moment, interrupting Shuji’s train of thought.
Shuji immediately relaxed.
Special jōnin occupied a unique position in the shinobi hierarchy.
They were not promoted because they possessed the well-rounded abilities expected of full jōnin.
Instead, they had reached jōnin-level proficiency in a particular field or possessed a specialized talent the village considered indispensable—exceptional sensory abilities, elite medical ninjutsu, advanced fūinjutsu, and similar expertise.
Their authority and status were below those of full jōnin but above ordinary chūnin.
They were generally assigned specialized missions or served as expert advisers in their respective fields.
Promoting Shuji this way also neatly avoided the controversy that might arise from elevating someone with his limited experience directly to full jōnin.
“Understood.” Shuji accepted the decision calmly.
In truth, special jōnin suited him better.
Greater mission privileges, higher pay, and fewer routine leadership responsibilities—it was almost exactly what he wanted.
Hiruzen slid Shuji’s file back into the drawer with a soft scrape.
“Someone will notify you about the promotion process.
You’ll need recommendation letters from two active chūnin or jōnin, and you’ll also have to pass an evaluation.
The examination will be tailored to your area of specialization.” He looked meaningfully at Shuji.
“With your abilities, the evaluation shouldn’t be a serious problem.
As for the recommendation letters…” Shuji immediately understood what he meant.
His parents had died on the battlefield.
His jōnin instructor had perished during the Nine-Tails’ attack.
His teammates from the border squad had also fallen on the battlefield against Kumogakure.
Nearly everyone who would naturally have been suited to recommend him was already dead.
If Shuji truly couldn’t find anyone, Hiruzen could undoubtedly arrange appropriate shinobi to provide the letters.
“I’ll handle it myself,” Shuji said before the Hokage could offer.
Grandma Momoka should still be able to contact some of the Senju who had changed their surnames and quietly blended into Konoha.
Although they no longer carried the Senju name publicly, many had once been important members of the clan.
Quite a few still held chūnin or jōnin rank.
Shuji had even met some of them during holiday gatherings over the years.
Getting two recommendation letters from among them shouldn’t be particularly difficult.
Hiruzen gave a slight nod.
“Go, then.
Prepare yourself properly.
Once the remaining members of your team with Itachi have been selected, I’ll have ANBU notify both of you.” “Yes, Lord Hokage.” Shuji bowed and took his leave.
By the time he stepped out of the Hokage Building, Konoha had already come alive beneath the evening lights.
A cool breeze swept across the street, carrying away the lingering smell of tobacco from the office.
Promotion to special jōnin…
Shuji didn’t care much about the title itself.
What pleased him were the practical benefits that came with it—greater freedom, access to more important missions, and, most importantly, considerably better pay.