“Then I’ll trouble you, Sensei,” Ryuha Uchiha said with a slight nod, not refusing.
Having received Ryuha’s assent, Ryuichi Matsumoto grew even more excited, chattering the entire way back about how to secure benefits for Ryuha.
How to “reasonably” display Ryuha’s strength without drawing undue attention, how to arrange Team 7’s future mission routes…
Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara followed behind.
Watching Ryuha’s calm profile, their eyes were filled with adoration.
The gap between them was far too vast now—so vast that it was impossible to feel even a hint of jealousy.
Their previous jealousy had long evaporated.
In its place was a reverent awe bordering on faith.
To walk beside this young lord, even just looking at his back, was a privilege in itself, wasn’t it?
The two exchanged a glance, reading the same resolve in each other’s eyes.
They had to get stronger.
At the very least, they couldn’t become a burden to Lord Ryuha.
…
Upon returning to Konoha, they handed in the cat-retrieval mission, and Team 7 disbanded for the day.
Matsumoto didn’t even let Ryuha write the two mission reports.
“How could I trouble you with such trivial matters?
I’ll take care of it!”
He bade a hasty farewell, turned, and ran straight toward the Hokage Residence.
His steps were rushed, as if being a second late was a sin.
Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara also bowed respectfully to Ryuha before heading home.
Their backs were noticeably straighter as they walked away.
Ryuha walked back toward the Uchiha Clan compound alone.
Night had fallen deep, and the streetlights along the road lit up one after another.
He adjusted his glasses, silently spreading out his Spiritual Pressure perception.
Thirty meters away, in the shadow of a roof eaves, a presence flickered slightly before settling into stillness.
Anbu.
No…
this nauseating aura was Foundation!
Ever since they left the Black Pine Forest, this presence had been tailing them.
Its stealth techniques were top-notch, but under Ryuha Uchiha’s Spiritual Pressure perception, it had nowhere to hide.
One of Danzo Shimura’s men.
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk curved Ryuha’s lips.
It seemed Team 7 wasn’t the only audience for today’s “performance.”
He deliberately slowed his pace and stopped in front of a dango shop on the street corner.
He bought a skewer of Three-Colored Pills and ate it unhurriedly.
In his Spiritual Pressure perception, the presence in the shadow maintained a distance of thirty meters, clinging like a shadow.
After finishing the skewer, Ryuha tossed the bamboo stick into a trash can, turned, and looked toward the shadow.
Across the entire street, his gaze seemed to penetrate the dark night and the walls, locking onto that figure with absolute precision.
In the shadows, the Foundation ninja wearing an animal mask felt the hairs on his entire body stand on end.
Had he been spotted?
Impossible!
At this distance, with his level of stealth…
But a second later, Ryuha withdrew his gaze and turned to continue toward the compound, as if it had been nothing more than a casual glance.
The Foundation ninja froze in place, cold sweat soaking his inner garments.
Was it a coincidence?
Or…
Fearing to dwell on it further, he quickly pulled out a scroll and recorded in cipher:
“Target’s sensory abilities suspected to be extremely high; may have detected tailing.
Combat details as follows…”
He recorded everything that transpired in the Black Pine Forest in as much detail as possible, including the specifics of Shakaho, Ryuha’s explanation, and Matsumoto’s sudden change in attitude.
Then he bit his thumb, summoned an inconspicuous gray sparrow, and slipped the scroll into the message tube on its leg.
The sparrow flapped its wings and dissolved into the dark night.
…
Deep within the Foundation base, in its innermost stone chamber.
Danzo Shimura sat alone on a stone throne, holding the newly delivered scroll.
The dim yellow light cast his shadow against the wall, contorted and warped.
He read slowly, meticulously.
When his eyes reached the descriptions of “hand-seal-less casting,” “Shakaho,” “instant human body vaporization,” and “mental force substituting hand seals”…
His single visible eye narrowed, glinting with cold light.
“A spiritual-type Kekkei Genkai combined with extreme mastery over chakra…”
Danzo Shimura muttered softly, his voice echoing through the stone room.
Why was it that the Uchiha Clan always produced such astounding geniuses?
He had thought that suspected space-time ninjutsu was all the boy had to offer.
Who could have anticipated such a surprise?
The scroll also recorded Matsumoto’s dramatic shift in attitude, along with his intention to report to the Third Hokage and push for resources on Ryuha Uchiha’s behalf.
“Hmph, Hiruzen…” Danzo sneered.
“Trying to use soft persuasion again to win over a genius and consolidate your rule?”
He laid down the scroll, his emaciated fingers tapping against the armrest of the stone chair.
Ryuha Uchiha.
This Uchiha boy who had suddenly emerged was even more dangerous than anticipated.
Not just dangerous.
He was a weapon…
that must be kept in his own hands.
A genjutsu capable of controlling the five senses—if it could be used by Foundation…
A capacity for hand-seal-less casting—if it could be used by Foundation…
Coupled with space-time ninjutsu!
A flash of burning greed glinted in Danzo’s eye.
But following right behind was an even deeper wariness.
Fugaku Uchiha wouldn’t let go of such a genius, and Hiruzen Sarutobi wouldn’t leave him unchecked either.
Snatching him openly was out of the question.
Assassination?
Too risky, and it would completely enrage both the Uchiha and the Third Hokage.
So then…
Danzo Shimura slowly rose to his feet, walked to the wall, and pressed a concealed mechanism.
The stone wall slid open, revealing row upon row of crimson Sharingan immersed in nutrient fluid behind it.
“I cannot wait much longer…”
He stroked the cold glass wall, a cold, insane glint glittering in his eyes.
“Ryuha-kun, possessing such talent only to be born in the Uchiha Clan…
what a waste.”
“No matter.”
Danzo turned and looked toward the shadowed corner of the chamber, where a statue-like figure stood at attention.
“Fu, how are Torune’s injuries?”
“Reporting to Lord Danzo, there are no major issues.
He can resume duties in three days,” a deep voice sounded from the dark.
“Very good.” Danzo slowly walked back and sat down on the stone throne.
“Tell Torune that once he recovers, he is to make contact with Ryuha Uchiha.
No probing, no confrontation.
All he needs to do is…
extend the goodwill of Foundation.”
The figure in the shadow paused slightly.
“Lord Danzo, do you mean…”
“A genius like him shouldn’t be bound by Uchiha’s narrow-mindedness or Konoha’s rot.”
Danzo’s voice was calm, yet carried a chillingly coercive charm.
“Tell him Foundation can give him everything he desires—knowledge, power, freedom, and…
the right to look down upon all creation from the summit.”
“If he knows what is good for him and wishes to join Foundation…
then whatever the Uchiha can offer, we can offer more.
What the Uchiha cannot give him, we can give as well.”
“And if he refuses to see reason…”
The cold gleam in Danzo’s single eye intensified sharply.
“Then let him become nourishment for the roots.”
“Understood.” The figure in the shadow bowed silently, merging into the darkness and vanishing.
Silence returned to the stone chamber.
Danzo sat alone on his stone throne, staring at the scroll in his hand without moving for a long time.
The yellow light projected his shadow onto the wall, flickering with the flame like a devouring demon.
“Ryuha Uchiha…”
He muttered the name softly, as if reciting an incantation—or calling out to a prey about to fall into his hands.
“We will meet soon enough.”