The next second, a system notification popped up.
[Mission Objective: Go to the Uchiha Police Force, submit a “Declaration of Major Life Matters,” and successfully complete the filing.] [Mission Time Limit: 6 hours.] [Mission Reward: Calculated based on the degree of disclosure of the filing, the number of witnesses, and the target’s reaction.] [Failure Penalty: Randomly disclose the existence of the host’s internal system to thirty members of the Uchiha Clan.] Yuya put on a mask of pain on the spot.
Good grief, revealing the system to thirty people in the whole clan?
This is more explosive than streaking in the street, isn’t it!
You want to strip me down to my underwear overnight, right?
In that case, he’d rather have Itachi slit his throat; that would be more painless!
He stood up with a start.
Dignity?
What is dignity anyway?
Can you wear it like a Resurrection Armor?
Uchiha Police Force, right?
Lord Itachi, I’m sorry.
Today, this official CP, you have to accept it whether you like it or not!
You have to carry this black pot whether you like it or not!
Yuya decisively squatted in front of the low table, spreading out a clan-standard application form that he had just dug out from the bottom of the cabinet.
This thing was issued by the Uchiha Police Force and had a rigid format.
The header was printed with “Personal Affairs Filing Form,” and various columns were listed below in categories.
The original owner had several blank copies in his cabinet; he probably wanted to apply for something but didn’t have the guts to submit it, so now it worked out perfectly for him.
Yuya chewed on the pen barrel, pondering the wording.
The “lifelong partner” suggested by netizens was truly a bit too advanced.
If he really dared to write that, the Uchiha Police Force would definitely slap the form in his face on the spot, and he wouldn’t even be able to get a foot in the door for registration.
Think big; he had to commit legal fraud!
He decisively checked “Declaration of Major Personal Decision” under “Filing Category.” This option was basically never touched; it was mostly used for writing wills or severing relationships.
But as long as it was within the procedure, it was legal and compliant.
For the main body, Yuya focused on cutting the nonsense and getting straight to the point.
[I, Uchiha Yuya, voluntarily list Uchiha Itachi as my sole emergency contact and heir.
This decision is based on long-term trust in Itachi, is of my own free will, and is not instigated by any third party.] [Special Declaration: If I should die unexpectedly in the near future, I implore the Uchiha Police Force to prioritize confirming whether it is related to the recent abnormal atmosphere within the clan.] The pen tip paused heavily on the last character.
The first part was meant to annoy people, but the second part was the real protective amulet!
Once the words “die unexpectedly” entered the official records, the meaning changed completely.
This wasn’t some unrequited love farce, but a real death warning!
Once filed, even if the Hokage intervened personally, they wouldn’t be able to destroy it easily.
Yuya blew the ink dry, folded the application form, tucked it into his clothes, and strode out the door.
The afternoon sun was scorching, and the bluestone slabs were baked hot.
Just as he exited the alley, he ran into two middle-aged women carrying vegetable baskets.
As soon as they saw him, their pace slowed immediately, their eyes full of “Look at that gay guy.” Yuya kept his head down and quickened his pace, deliberately letting most of the paper in his clothes show.
Passing the training ground, a young clansman who was cleaning a Kunai glanced over, his gaze instantly glued to the paper.
The Uchiha Clan didn’t have bad eyesight; even if they hadn’t awakened their Sharingan, they were still like Leeuwenhoek.
The large characters “Personal Affairs Filing Form” at the top were as dazzling as a disco ball in a nightclub at this distance.
The guy’s hand trembled, the Kunai almost stabbing into his own thigh, and he turned his head to whisper frantically to his companion.
Yuya pretended not to see and walked even more steadily.
The mockery behind him sounded right on cue.
“Holy crap…
isn’t that the weirdo who confessed yesterday?
What is he doing with a filing form?” “Is this development a bit too advanced?
He’s not actually going to the Uchiha Police Force, right?” “He’s purely brain-dead!” Very good.
Number of witnesses, steadily +1.
The Uchiha Police Force was in the northern part of the clan grounds, a two-story wooden building with a large fan emblem hanging at the entrance.
When Yuya arrived, there was only one middle-aged man at the duty window.
The man had a forehead protector tied around his head and was boredly flipping through the patrol log.
Hearing the noise, he looked up, and upon realizing it was Yuya, his face was full of disgust.
Clearly, he hadn’t missed out on the earth-shattering gossip from yesterday.
Yuya took out the application form and respectfully handed it over with both hands.
“I am here to submit a Declaration of Major Personal Decision.” The man didn’t take it at all, leaning back: “Get lost.
Don’t bring your nonsense here to embarrass yourself.” “This is an official application, and the format is completely compliant.” Yuya didn’t retreat, pushing the paper directly onto the window sill.
The man glanced down, and when his gaze touched the four characters “Uchiha Itachi,” his eyelids twitched wildly.
“Did you get water in your brain, kid?” Yuya was righteous and confident: “Maybe.
But Article 17 of the Clan Rules clearly states that clansmen have the right to submit written filings, and the Uchiha Police Force has no right to refuse them based on subjective judgment.” Before leaving, he had practically worn out that dusty “Compilation of Clan Rules,” focusing on being reasonable and evidence-based.
The man was so choked up he was grinding his teeth.
Of course, he knew this rule.
But this rule was meant for marriages and funerals; who the hell used it for such heaven-defying operations?
But the format and procedure were correct, so refusing it would be a violation by the Uchiha Police Force.
“Are you really going to submit it?” The man gave him one last chance to back down.
Yuya nodded frantically, his attitude so sincere it made one want to pick up a chair and smash it on him: “Certainly, definitely, and absolutely.
Please go ahead and stamp it.” The man snatched the paper, opened the register, and scribbled down the date and name.
On the register, the two names appeared in the same frame historically.
White paper, black ink, and a red stamp—completely locked in!
Yuya stared at the red stamp, cheering internally—yes, he’d won big!
“Registration complete.” The man slammed the book shut: “But this content is too outrageous; it needs approval from superiors before it can be filed.
I have to send the original up.” “I understand, I understand.
Just follow the procedure.” Yuya turned and slipped away, his pace remarkably cheerful.
Just as he stepped out the door, the man slammed the paper onto the table and roared toward the inner room.
“Come out and look!
What the hell is this thing?!” An older Uchiha poked his head out from the inner room.
The two huddled together to read it, the air suddenly turning quiet, falling into a deathly silence.
“Just tear it up?” “You dare tear it up?
The number is already in the register!
The original is gone, and you black out the register?
That’s called destroying archives.” “Then just store it away as a joke?” “Are you blind?
Look at the last sentence!” The elder’s finger trembled as he poked heavily at the line “die unexpectedly.” The two looked at each other, and cold sweat instantly broke out on their backs.
With that sentence there, this thing was a ticking time bomb!
If this kid actually kicked the bucket, and they found this warning when checking the files later, why didn’t the Uchiha Police Force take action?
Who suppressed the file?
They would all have to take the blame!
“The water is too deep here; we can’t handle it.
Send the original up urgently and let the guys upstairs get a headache over it!” Fifteen minutes later, the document was placed in a top-secret kraft paper bag by a messenger and sent to the superiors.
And that direction was exactly the exclusive channel where Itachi received intelligence daily.
Yuya was strolling home when a window suddenly popped up on the system interface in his mind.
[Mission Completion: 90%.
Remaining condition: Target person confirms receipt of the filing information.] Just one last step to go.
He wasn’t panicked.
As long as the document was submitted, Itachi definitely couldn’t escape.
With that great filial son’s intelligence network, this gossip would be fed into his mouth before dark.