And so the Hokage Building could only stay silent.
Could only pretend it saw nothing.
Could only file the whole affair under “a street sparring match brimming with youthful vigor.”
Like it or not, Hiruzen Sarutobi had to swallow that bitter pill.
As for the Konoha Military Police — they were nothing if not sharp.
They’d naturally picked up on the strange silence emanating from the Hokage Building.
If the Hokage himself was in no hurry to order arrests, why on earth would the Uchiha rush to arrest their own clan’s genius?
Hence the scene Yoru had just witnessed.
The Military Police were simply going through the motions at their leisure.
Wander the streets a bit, log the shopkeepers’ complaints, done — matter smoothed over.
Having worked all this out, Yoru felt deeply pleased with himself.
The venerable Third Hokage, held snugly in the palm of a seven-year-old’s hand.
That is the beauty of political leverage.
As long as he kept his antics inside the safety line, Konoha’s leadership could do absolutely nothing to him.
The downfall of the Uchiha clan, a decade or so out?
As long as he farmed Emotional Damage Points fast enough — by the time that night came, who wiped out whom would be anyone’s guess.
Obito, blissfully ignorant of the truth, was still passionately denouncing the maniac.
He patted his chest in lingering fear and looked at Yoru, eyes full of relief.
“It’s a good thing you left quick and came straight back to the compound.”
“If you’d been wandering the streets just now and run into that brick lunatic — who knows, we might’ve been dragged into it too!”
Obito gritted his teeth and shook his fist, righteous indignation all over his face.
“He’d better hope I never run into him! If I do, I’ll hit him with a Fire Release, I swear!”
“Scum like that is a disgrace to Konoha! The Anbu should haul him off and throw him to the Torture and Interrogation Force!”
The more Obito talked, the more worked up he got, his clenched fists cracking.
“What kind of person chases people through the streets of Konoha with a BRICK!”
“He’s completely deranged! He’s thrown away every last shred of a ninja’s dignity! Right, Yoru?!”
Yoru regarded Obito’s indignant face and nodded along.
“You’re right. He really is quite the deranged pervert.”
As he spoke, Yoru’s hands were getting a bit stiff from sitting in his pockets.
He gave his shoulders a casual roll to adjust his posture.
And at the exact moment his shoulders dropped —
Because the red brick had been digging into him inside his ninja tool pouch,
Yoru had, on entering the gate, conveniently taken it out and tucked it under his left armpit.
Now, with the movement of his shoulders, the clamping pressure suddenly slackened.
The friction holding it in place vanished entirely.
That red brick — edges sharp, surface rough, a top-grade piece of construction material — slipped free and slid straight down the inside of Yoru’s coat.
Clatter!
A dull yet distinct crack rang out between the two of them.
The hard bluestone paving chipped on impact, an eye-catching gouge opening in the slab.
A few stone chips flew up and pattered off the tops of Obito’s shoes.
The brick itself hadn’t lost so much as a corner.
It lay on the ground, intact, unnaturally serene.
Sharp edges.
Rough surface.
Coated in dust from the road.
A breeze drifted past.
In front of the Uchiha compound gate, a deathly silence fell.
Obito’s mouth — open to continue denouncing the “brick-wielding thug” — froze mid-word.
The words jammed in his throat, escaping only as a strange cluck-cluck sound.
His mouth hung open wide enough to fit a whole rice ball.
Still holding his indignant pose, Obito lowered his head — slowly, inch by agonizing inch.
His gaze locked onto the top-grade construction brick sitting before his toes.
Red brick.
Construction-grade.
Rough surface.
Dusted from a long run.
In the entire history of Konoha, how many people would carry such an absurd piece of building material on their person — let alone tucked under an armpit?
Obito’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently as he swallowed.
His gaze climbed, bit by bit, up from the brick.
Past the legs of Yoru’s trousers.
Past the hem of Yoru’s open coat.
Until at last it met Yoru’s face — and its kindly, harmless smile.
Yoru was not the least bit flustered.
Hands still in his pockets, he tilted his head slightly, looked at Obito, and beamed a sunny smile.
A breeze blew past — and Obito understood.
In that little brain of his, everything snapped together in a single instant of terrible deduction!
His pupils contracted violently; he froze as if struck by a paralysis jutsu, his very breath stopping.
Ding!
［Emotional Damage Points from Uchiha Obito, +999!!!］
Obito’s brain crashed completely.
What had he just been cursing?
A raving madman?
A twisted, deranged pervert?
A bastard who’d thrown away every shred of a ninja’s dignity?
Scum and a disgrace to Konoha?
His legs began to shake of their own accord, and his body took an involuntary half-step back.
Yoru took in Obito’s terrified, about-to-wet-himself expression, and felt more pleased than ever.
Unhurried, he bent down and picked up the undamaged red brick.
Under Obito’s petrified stare, he gave it a couple of appraising bounces in his palm.
Then, with perfect naturalness, he blew the dust off it.
“Obito.”
Yoru lifted his head, winked, and spoke in a voice gentle as a spring breeze.
“Who was it you said… you were going to hit with a Fire Release?”
Obito’s knees gave out.
With a thump, he knelt straight down onto the freshly gouged bluestone slab.
The dull crack of kneecaps on stone echoed down the quiet main road of the compound.
Yoru didn’t press further.
He tucked the flawless red brick snugly back under his left armpit and gave the kneeling Obito his final sincere smile of the day.
“Head home early. See you tomorrow.”
Then he turned, hands in his pockets, and strolled off into the twilight.
His silhouette was crisp and decisive — deeds done, glory left behind.
Behind him, Obito held his kneeling pose, frozen, for a full thirty seconds.
The evening breeze stirred, and his goggles — hanging crooked from his forehead — finally lost their last purchase and dropped to the ground with a clatter.
Obito didn’t pick them up.
He slid from kneeling into a crouch, wrapped both arms tight around his head, and curled into a ball.
Five seconds of silence.
Then, from the very depths of his soul, a miserable, earth-splitting howl erupted.
“Damn it — the lunatic was YORU all along!!!”
The cry echoed through the twilight of the Uchiha compound, startling three crows off a nearby roof.
Ding!
［Emotional Damage Points from Uchiha Obito, +666!］
Twenty meters away, Yoru heard the crisp chime in his head, and the corners of his mouth curled a few degrees higher.
He happily opened the balance screen.
The number had jumped by nearly another 2,000.
Whatever.
Who cares about the process when the money makes itself?
With a haul like this, tonight was for a glorious session at the system shop.
As for the deskmate currently questioning his existence at the compound gate — there’d be plenty of time to farm him slowly tomorrow.
The Konoha night breeze drifted past.
All was peaceful.
First day of school: complete.