Konoha Military Police Force archives.
Itachi stood in front of the filing cabinet, holding Yuya’s “testament-style record” transfer form in his hand.
Every official file transfer must have a record on the back: date, requester ID, and usage notes—all three standard procedures are mandatory.
But Yuya’s file had four entries printed on it.
The first three were standard.
When it came to the fourth— Requester: Blank.
Usage: Blank.
There was only a dry, yesterday’s date.
This maneuver clearly meant an outsider had exploited a loophole to access the records without even bothering to use a disguise.
Itachi slid the form back into its place.
The “accidental death” written in Yuya’s file originally looked like the paranoid delusion of a loser.
Now, it seemed, this thing was practically a precise, living coordinate.
Who was secretly watching this coordinate?
The answer was obvious.
Itachi leaped out the window and landed silently in the shadow of an old locust tree on the outskirts of the clan grounds, his mind racing through deductions.
The script for the clan extermination plan had long been set by the three parties.
Danzo’s role consisted of only four words: clean up afterwards.
He didn’t need to intervene early, let alone touch an Uchiha clansman.
But now, Root had not only intervened but had also pulled off two shady jobs, with the timing precisely aligned after his own warning.
What did this mean?
This old schemer was adding scenes for himself outside the official script.
Was his goal really just the Sharingan of a loser like Yuya?
What if he had designs on swallowing up the entire remaining value of the Uchiha?
A name suddenly popped into Itachi’s mind—Sasuke.
Danzo had once promised to spare Sasuke as a spark for the bloodline to continue, but that was just an empty check without even a seal.
Itachi’s gaze remained calm; he didn’t get angry, nor did he sigh, but a hint of biting chill emerged in the depths of his shadow.
To him, Yuya was still a troublesome variable, not a companion, and didn’t require pity.
But this brat’s wild maneuver had inadvertently exposed Danzo’s rhythm of sneaking in.
This intelligence was worth more than his life.
Itachi’s figure, like a dissolving drop of ink, merged into the boundless night.
… In Yuya’s dilapidated courtyard.
In broad daylight, sunlight leaked through the worn-out paper windows, spilling onto the mottled wooden floor.
Yuya sat under the veranda, using a torn old shirt to wrap a bandage around his neck.
The tightness was random, the knot depended on fate, and a piece of cloth tail was left flapping in the wind on his shoulder.
It was the quintessential look of someone unable to take care of themselves.
But he had the exact amount of the wound exposed perfectly calculated—exactly one-third visible.
Too much would look pretentious, too little and others wouldn’t see it.
He simply left the wooden splinter scratches on the back of his hand exposed; this was the basic quality of a loser.
If this appearance got out, the subtext would be one sentence: “The child is scared out of his wits and has no ability to protect himself; I beg you onlookers to be a witness!” … On the outskirts of the clan grounds.
A few unruly kids ran past the alleyway in a rush, shouting as they ran.
“Don’t go that way!
That pervert who confessed to Itachi has a ghost in his house!” “The uncle next door went to complain; it makes clacking sounds in the middle of the night!” At the base of a wall not far away, a golden head poked out from behind the bushes.
Naruto was chewing on half a rice ball he’d dug out of a trash can, his cheeks bulging.
Hearing “confession pervert,” he tilted his head.
He was eating melon and it turned out to be an acquaintance.
But he just pretended not to hear, swallowed the rice ball, clapped his hands, and continued walking along the wall.
… Night fell.
Yuya turned over under the covers, his heartbeat and breathing steady as an old dog.
The system panel lit up on his retina.
[System Prompt: Unknown Chakra source detected approaching.
Distance 120 meters.
Low-speed stealth.] Here to deliver performance points again.
But the taste was off this time; the opponent didn’t jump over the wall into the courtyard but was circling the perimeter, clearly looking for an entry angle.
Yuya clicked his tongue secretly; these old foxes had changed tactics.
If they couldn’t kill him or whitewash it, they would just apply a tracking marker.
This thing was much more disgusting than open combat.
Once the tracking talisman was stuck on, if he tore it off himself, it would be equivalent to exposing on the spot: “I can sense Chakra.” His persona would collapse, and he would surely die.
But if he didn’t tear it off, would he be spied on 360 degrees without blind spots every day?
Yuya buried half his face in the quilt, a wicked smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Think bigger.
Who stipulated that he had to be the one to tear the talisman?
In the entire Uchiha, who else could it be but someone with a Sharingan, who could see through Chakra markers, and who had been secretly spying on him every day recently?
High-end hunters often appear in the guise of prey.
This move is called borrowing a knife to kill.
He simply shrank deeper into the bed and waited quietly.
As long as the talisman landed in a reasonable position that could be seen from outside, this game was stable.
In the system prompt, the red dot slowly moved to 60 meters and stopped.
The opponent was aiming.
Yuya closed his eyes, his breathing even, as if he had really fallen into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, on the roof fifty meters to the northeast.
Itachi stood with his hands behind his back, his breathing even synchronized with the night wind.
He had sensed something wrong in the evening.
It wasn’t the rhythm of the clan patrols, nor was it Anbu sentries.
That nauseating sewer stench had come again.
He didn’t rush to strike, wanting to see just how far these clingy pests intended to overstep.
The Sharingan opened quietly in the dark night, Three Tomoe slowly forming.
… Outside the courtyard wall.
“Swish—” A tiny talisman was flicked into the air, silent and soundless, with outrageously high precision.
It slipped through the blind spot of the door gap and stuck to the inside of the door with a thwack.
The incantation on the talisman flashed with a dark gleam before completely fading away.
Nothing was visible to the naked eye.
But in the field of vision of Itachi’s Three Tomoe, the interwoven Chakra circuits on it were as bright as an 800-watt lightbulb in the night!
This is a tracking talisman.
Danzo has overstepped.
At that instant, Itachi’s gaze dropped to an absolute freezing point, and even the surrounding air congealed with killing intent.