Beside the trade road, Shirakawa Village lay quietly beneath the first veil of dusk.
A neat wooden fence enclosed the settlement, while its heavy village gates stood wide open.
Several villagers sat chatting on stone blocks near the entrance.
At first, they paid little attention to the two approaching figures.
But the moment they noticed the Konoha symbols on their forehead protectors and recognized their shinobi attire, their expressions immediately turned serious.
The man at the front hurried forward and bowed respectfully.
“My lords, what brings the two of you to our village?” Shuji calmly swept his gaze over the group.
He took a scroll from inside his clothes and slowly unfurled it.
“We are shinobi of Konohagakure, here under orders from the daimyō of the Land of Rivers.” His voice wasn’t loud, but his businesslike tone made the purpose of their visit unmistakable.
The villagers stiffened and exchanged glances.
The man who had greeted them immediately stepped back and said nothing more.
Itachi keenly noticed the difference in Shuji’s demeanor.
This stern, official attitude was completely unlike the relaxed manner he had shown back at the restaurant in Koizumi Town.
Itachi said nothing.
His young face settled into the same composed expression as Shuji’s as he quietly observed everything around them.
“Where is your village chief?” Shuji asked directly.
“H-He…
he’s at home,” the villager hurriedly answered, pointing them in the right direction.
The two entered Shirakawa Village.
Night had only just begun to fall, yet scattered lights were already glowing throughout the village.
Warm illumination spilled through paper windows, outlining the houses and giving the settlement an air of carefully maintained comfort and prosperity.
The large inn at the center of the village was especially conspicuous.
Its elegant roof and ornate wooden construction were clearly visible beneath the lamplight.
Yet its entrance was strangely deserted, creating a subtle contrast with the warmly lit homes surrounding it.
As they walked along the village road, Itachi could feel eyes watching them from behind window frames and beside fences.
He appeared relaxed on the surface, but remained vigilant within, using his peripheral vision to monitor their surroundings.
Shuji, meanwhile, maintained an unhurried, steady pace and headed straight for the village chief’s residence.
An elderly man with graying hair and beard, his back slightly hunched with age, was already waiting beneath the glow of a lantern outside the house.
As soon as he saw them, he hurried forward several steps and respectfully invited them inside.
Once host and guests were seated in the modest reception room, the old man cautiously introduced himself.
“I am Shirakawa Kisuke, chief of this village.
May I ask what the two of you have come to investigate?” His calloused hands clasped and unclasped almost unconsciously.
“I would have thought the village chief already had some idea.” Shuji leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the old man’s face.
The faint curve at the corner of his mouth held no warmth.
“Surely Shirakawa Village isn’t unfamiliar with the bandits causing trouble along the nearby trade road.” “T-That…” A fine sheen of sweat appeared on Shirakawa Kisuke’s forehead beneath the oil lamp.
“Officials did come and ask us about it before…
but this old man truly…” “Oh?” Shuji tapped one finger lightly against the table.
The crisp sound cut through the room.
“Then let me ask a different question.
Are all the villagers officially registered as residents of Shirakawa Village currently present in the village?” “Of cour—” Kisuke had barely begun to answer when another voice interrupted.
“Senpai.” Itachi’s clear, youthful voice broke the brief silence.
“When we entered the village, I noticed that several houses had no lights in their windows.
They appeared to be unoccupied.” The old chief’s body tensed almost imperceptibly.
“A few families have…
left the village to make a living elsewhere,” he hurriedly explained.
Shuji’s gaze slowly traveled across the furnishings in the room.
They weren’t extravagant, but the materials were sturdy and the craftsmanship was clearly of good quality.
“From what I’ve seen, your village seems quite prosperous.” His tone remained mild.
After a brief pause, he added pointedly, “With such a peaceful and comfortable home to return to, I imagine it would be rather unusual for many young people to willingly leave everything behind.” “Y-Yes…” Kisuke dabbed at his forehead with his sleeve.
“It’s simply because the trade road is so busy.
Merchants frequently stay at our village inn.” He struggled to keep his voice steady.
“The young people see travelers from all over the world, and naturally…
they start wanting to see what’s beyond the village for themselves.” “Those bandits must have hurt the village’s livelihood considerably.” Shuji’s gaze seemed to pass through the paper window toward the silent inn in the center of the village.
“Such a fine establishment, yet now hardly anyone visits.” The old man lowered his eyes, his voice becoming somber.
“Exactly.
That’s why I pray day and night that esteemed shinobi such as yourselves will rid the trade road of this scourge as soon as possible.” The invisible pressure surrounding Shuji suddenly vanished, and his tone became much gentler.
“In that case, Chief, is there anything you can tell us that might help?
On this matter, our goals are the same.” He looked directly into the old man’s eyes.
“Even the smallest detail could prove valuable.” “Y-Yes, of course.
It’s just…
I truly don’t know anything useful,” Kisuke replied helplessly.
Shuji showed no reaction.
He merely asked a few routine questions about the village population, recent outsiders, and other ordinary matters before rising to leave.
“We’ll be staying at the village inn for the time being.
If you remember or discover anything, inform us immediately.” Inside their room at the inn, the steady glow of an oil lamp filled the space.
Itachi carefully checked the doors and windows and made sure the surroundings were quiet before turning toward Shuji.
“Senpai, did you notice something suspicious while speaking with the village chief?” Shuji had already returned to his usual mild demeanor.
Sitting comfortably on the tatami, he smiled faintly and asked, “What do you think, Itachi?” The eight-year-old genin considered the question for a moment before answering methodically.
“Senpai believes the bandits are connected to this village, and that the village leadership knows about it—perhaps they’re even involved.
That would explain why you changed your attitude at the village entrance and again when speaking with the chief.” Shuji looked at him with interest.
“If I’d already reached that conclusion, why didn’t I enter the village pretending I suspected nothing?
Why deliberately act stern from the beginning?
Wouldn’t investigating quietly have made it easier to uncover clues?” That was precisely the question Itachi had still been wondering about.
Back at the restaurant in Koizumi Town, Shuji had proposed two possibilities: either the bandits had returned because they had left behind something important, or they were locals to begin with.
Judging by his actions now, Shuji was clearly leaning toward the second possibility.
“Showing from the start that we wouldn’t be easy to deal with was groundwork,” Shuji explained.
“If you’re too friendly, sometimes all you accomplish is inviting unnecessary probing and trouble.” “After we entered the village, the villagers paid far more attention to us than they would ordinary travelers.
That alone told me something.
Look at the size and quality of this village’s inn.
Travelers must pass through here regularly.
A village accustomed to receiving strangers from every direction shouldn’t become this tense simply because two unfamiliar shinobi arrived.” “So I decided to put some pressure on the village chief and make it seem as though we already knew more than we were saying.
If I’d been too gentle, someone with his age and experience could easily have kept brushing us off with smooth excuses without revealing the slightest flaw.” Shuji paused.
“And judging from his reactions, I doubt this village can completely separate itself from either those young people who supposedly left or the appearance of the bandits.” Itachi nodded thoughtfully.
These subtle details of observation, pressure, and judgment weren’t things the Ninja Academy taught.
“Then what do you plan to do next, senpai?” he asked.
Instead of answering, Shuji looked at him.
“If you were leading this mission, Itachi, what would you do?” The young Uchiha seriously considered the problem before answering.
“If it were me, I’d try using genjutsu on the village chief to obtain more concrete information—such as the bandits’ possible hiding place.
Once we knew their location, we could move in and eliminate them.” “That’s a good tactical approach.” Shuji nodded approvingly, but immediately followed with another question.
“Now, after using genjutsu, how many possible situations might we face?” He raised a finger.
“First, the village chief genuinely doesn’t know the crucial details, so the information we obtain is limited.” A second finger.
“Second, the bandits are hiding somewhere inside the village.” Then a third.
“Third, they’re concealed in the forests or mountains outside the village.” “The last two possibilities are especially complicated.” Shuji straightened, his expression calm but serious.
“Without conclusive evidence, and as long as the suspects haven’t openly shown hostility, those so-called ‘bandits’ may be nothing more than ordinary neighbors or relatives in the eyes of the villagers.” “Remember what the mission briefing emphasized: even the pursuit force from the Land of Rivers never obtained clear descriptions of the bandits’ appearances.” “That means even if we discover where they’re hiding, what we may actually find is a group of people who look exactly like ordinary villagers—people who rise with the sun, work during the day, and return home at night.” Shuji studied Itachi’s clear eyes, already carrying a depth far beyond his eight years.
“When that happens, how do you intend to proceed?” “If we simply attack, there’s a very real chance we’ll provoke a strong reaction from the local villagers.
Without undeniable proof, people usually choose to believe and protect those they know.” “They may question us, defend the suspects, make excuses for them, or even try to stop us.
Any one of those reactions could introduce variables we can’t predict.” Silence settled over the room.
Only the occasional soft crackle of the oil lamp’s wick disturbed the stillness.
The young Uchiha prodigy furrowed his brow and sank into deep thought.
This wasn’t a problem that could be solved by superior speed, sharper kunai, or stronger ninjutsu.
It involved people’s loyalties, perceptions, and the rules governing a shinobi’s actions—matters far beyond the straightforward combat missions Itachi was accustomed to.
The lamplight cast his thoughtful profile against the wall, stretching his shadow long into the quiet room.