He had written the draft three times.
It wasn’t a matter of writing style, but a matter of boundaries.
Uchiha Yuya crouched in front of the low table, crumpled the first two versions of the waste paper into balls, and stuffed them directly into his mouth to chew and swallow hard.
He couldn’t leave a single trace.
This was an instinct he had forced out of himself with his life over the past three days.
The third draft lay spread out on the desktop.
Youye scanned it again.
The entire document was essentially a “cursed legal guide,” divided into three sections.
The first section was the “Supplementary Explanation for Abnormal Death Warning.” He had written about all the encounters from the past few nights, but the wording was extremely passive-aggressive.
“Suspected unidentified personnel have repeatedly broken into the residence at night.” “Unexplained knife wounds have appeared on the neck.” “Suspected traces of techniques have been discovered in the cracks of the door panel.” Subjective statements, no naming names, no cursing, and definitely not putting the word “Root” out in the open.
But those who understood would be able to identify the target at a glance.
Those who didn’t understand would just think it was a terrified loser having a breakdown.
The second section was the real core.
“Handling Protocol for Unidentifiable Remains.” Youye wrote it simply and brutally: If my remains are damaged beyond recognition during an abnormal event, please use my personal belongings as the basis for filing and list me directly in the death registry.
Translated into plain language, it meant—can’t find my corpse?
No problem.
Just use my worn-out clothes as a substitute; don’t waste the effort looking.
It was all about reserving a spot in the urn before the person had even cooled down.
The third section was purely a safety lock.
“Non-official personnel of the Uchiha Police Force are strictly prohibited from privately accessing, retrieving, or handling my personal belongings and related files.” This sentence looked like nonsense on its own, but combined with the previous context, it was an administrative firewall against meddling.
After the clan extermination, if Danzo wanted to send someone to rummage through things to confirm whether he was dead or alive, this record would be a tripwire.
It might not necessarily stop them, but as long as they touched it, they would inevitably leave procedural traces.
And that old schemer Danzo feared traces more than anything.
The logical flow of the entire official document was shattered, emphasizing a “mental state that is miles ahead.” It looked exactly like the raving diary entry of a lunatic on the verge of a breakdown written in the middle of the night.
There were only two core demands: I am afraid, and please don’t.
I am afraid of my corpse being stolen, and I am afraid of being called a traitor after death.
Please do not let strangers touch my things, and please do not hold anyone responsible.
Absurd?
Extremely absurd.
But Youye knew the Uchiha Police Force’s temperament all too well.
As long as the person signed it and there were witnesses from the clan, and the content didn’t violate clan rules, no matter how ominous this thing was, it had to be filed according to procedure.
Rules were rules.
Even the lawless Zhang Ye would have to give a thumbs up.
The internal forum was still spamming like crazy.
“Post 88: I suggest putting a pair of smelly socks as the personal item; whoever dares to check the file will ascend to heaven on the spot.” “Post 102: Send Itachi an empty urn with ‘Youye was here’ carved on it; that will definitely leave him speechless!” “Post 117: Combine the love letter and the will, write ‘Itachi, I love you even after death, all my inheritance goes to you’; that intensity is maxed out!” Youye ignored these idiotic comments with an expressionless face.
These netizens really knew how to stir up trouble.
But he only extracted one useful piece of logic: use personal belongings to substitute for the remains.
The props had long been prepared.
In the corner, there was a tattered dark blue coat with knife cuts from a Root assassination attempt on the cuffs.
Next to it was a rusty Kunai that would struggle to cut tofu, some bloodstained bandages, and charred wood chips.
These items would all become “legal evidence” in the post-war ruins.
But there was no rush now; the crime scene had to be set up with the wind of the clan extermination night.
The immediate priority was to hurry to the Konoha Military Police Force to go through the procedures.
Once this file was stamped, he wouldn’t just be “trying to escape.” He would be holding a paper funeral in advance for the name “Uchiha Yuya.” Youye picked up the pile of junk, wrapping the clothes and bandages into a bundle.
He looked like a homeless person who had just scavenged for food in a garbage dump.
Opening the door, he entered his role in a second, deliberately stepping out with a clumsy and cowering gait.
Hunched back, shoulders shrunken.
His max-level Body Flicker Technique and Chunin taijutsu were hidden deep within his bones, not leaking a single whisper of his true ability.
Two neighbor ladies in the alley were hanging laundry.
Seeing Youye’s appearance, they immediately huddled together to whisper.
“Here he goes again.
This lunatic screams like a ghost every night and carries trash during the day; is his brain stem completely missing?” “Look at his pathetic look, he’s probably saving up for his own coffin!” The voices weren’t loud, just enough for Youye to hear.
He pretended not to hear, burying his head lower, looking exactly like an unlucky wretch shunned by the whole world.
A blatant sneer came from behind him.
To Youye’s ears, it sounded more comfortable than celestial music.
Being looked down upon is good; this is what you call, as long as I look enough like a clown, the Shinigami won’t see me.
The Konoha Military Police Force duty room.
Before the door was even pushed open, an ominous voice drifted out from inside.
“Uchiha Yuya?!” The Duty Officer saw his pale face and leaned back tactically, his whole face full of disgust.
“What are you doing again?
You aren’t going to write Itachi’s name into some will again, are you?” That last “confession-style inheritance filing” had made the entire Konoha Military Police Force feel nauseated for days.
“No, it’s not a will…” “I just thought, in case I die, I don’t want to cause everyone trouble…” As soon as the words “cause trouble” came out, the Duty Officer was silenced.
Youye didn’t give him time to react, pushing the paper roll onto the table with trembling hands.
The Duty Officer glanced at the title.
“Application for Exemption from Liability for Wartime Remains Damage and Filing of Personal Belongings.” The duty room went instantly dead silent.
For a full five seconds.
The clan member organizing files nearby glanced over, silently turned around, and might as well have jumped over a fire brazier on the spot.
The Duty Officer unfurled the document, his expression becoming more and more colorful as he read.
“What kind of nonsense is this?
You’re only fifteen!” “I know…” Youye looked up, making eye contact then immediately looking away, radiating an aura of “I’m scared to death.” “But I’m really scared…
People have been coming to my house every night for the past few days…
The wound on my neck hasn’t healed yet…” “I don’t want to be called a traitor after I die…” “If something really happens, just use my things to make a record.
Don’t hold anyone accountable…
Please don’t…” His voice trembled, and by the end, he was even choking up.
The Duty Officer opened his mouth but forced himself to swallow the harsh words.
Although the kid’s words were incoherent, there was no fault to be found in the logic.
The Konoha Military Police Force had records of the abnormal reports and the neck wound from the previous two nights.
A combat-power-of-five loser who was completely terrified, arranging his funeral in advance.
Absurd, but extremely reasonable.
Flipping to the last section, the Duty Officer stared at the sentence “Non-official personnel are strictly prohibited from accessing.” His brows furrowed slightly.
“Why did you add this clause?” Youye kept his head down, speaking quickly and straightforwardly: “Because the people coming to my house are not from the Konoha Military Police Force.” A fatal blow.
The Duty Officer was completely speechless.
There had been internal communication regarding abnormal contact events; this brat was probably even unluckier than he looked.
“…Sign it, and stamp it.” After a long while, the Duty Officer sighed and resignedly took out the filing stamp.
The format was compliant, the person was present, and the content didn’t violate rules.
Even if it was so ominous he wanted to burn paper money, he had to follow the procedure.
Youye signed the last stroke and bowed deeply.
After finishing, he picked up the pile of junk and slipped out the side door.
Just as he turned into an empty dead-end alley, the system’s blue light flashed frantically in the corner of his vision.
[Task Progress: 67%.] [The filed document has entered the archiving process, waiting for the key observer to be informed.] It was stable.
The file was in the system; before sunset today, it would definitely be sent to Itachi’s hands along the intelligence network.
Youye leaned against the cold wall and looked up at the sky.
The sunlight was harsh, and people were coming and going on the street.
The shouts from the training grounds and the laughter in the alleys would all turn into piles of charred remains after tonight.
He didn’t feel sorry, nor did he have any impulsive urge to be a savior.
With the chips he had now, a direct confrontation would be a sign of a missing brain stem.
The only thing he could do was to make the name “Uchiha Yuya” appear on the death list as a matter of course.
The living would be hunted, but the dead would not.
And a dead person whose corpse “did not need to be confirmed” was as stable as an old dog.
Youye patted the junk in his arms, the corners of his mouth curling into a crazed smile.
Tonight, the Uchiha would be erased.
But he would take a step ahead, completely deleting himself from the paper records of this world.