The office door opened at that moment—neither too gently nor too forcefully.
There was no knock.
In all of Konoha, only one person would enter like this.
Danzō Shimura.
Leaning on his cane, he stood with half his face concealed in shadow.
The single visible eye gleamed sharply, like a hawk locking onto prey.
“Hiruzen.” “Danzō.” Hiruzen Sarutobi didn’t even raise his head, replying in an even tone.
“Root is short-handed,” Danzō said bluntly, his voice hoarse.
“Casualties on the front lines are too high.” “And?” Hiruzen replied.
“That brat from the Hatake clan has a steady mind and sharp swordsmanship.
Good material.” Danzō’s gaze shifted to the report on the desk—Kazama Ryū’s file.
Hiruzen set down his pipe and finally looked up at his old comrade, who was both friend and rival.
“Danzō, enough.
That is Sakumo’s only son.
I promised him Kakashi would live in the sunlight.” “Sentimental foolishness,” Danzō snorted.
“In wartime, geniuses are weapons.
You don’t keep weapons in a greenhouse like flowers.” Seeing that Hiruzen remained unmoved, Danzō changed tactics.
“Since you refuse to hand over White Fang’s son, then give me this one—Kazama Ryū.” He pointed at the report.
Hiruzen’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“This child also deserves to live under the sun.
Root is too dark for him.” “Hiruzen!” Danzō’s voice rose sharply.
His cane slammed into the floor with a heavy thud that echoed through the room.
“You are always like this—hesitant, soft-hearted!
One day, your weakness will destroy Konoha!
You will regret this decision!” Hiruzen simply looked at him, calm as ever, letting the outburst wash over him.
Then he spoke, slowly and clearly: “I am the Hokage.
My duty is to ensure every child in this village can stand in the sunlight.
Danzō—this is my Will of Fire.” “Hmph!” Danzō let out a cold snort, turned on his heel, and left without another word.
Bang—!
The office door slammed shut, the impact reverberating through the empty room and rattling the windows.
— Far from the undercurrents of the Hokage’s office, the Uchiha compound was steeped in quiet elegance.
Inside a traditional tatami room, the Second Elder of the Uchiha Clan, Uchiha Gen, knelt before a low table, calmly preparing tea.
His hair and beard were white, yet his posture was upright and vigorous.
Occasionally, a sharp glint flashed through his seemingly clouded eyes.
“Grandfather, you called for me?” Uchiha Nain entered and bowed respectfully.
The pride unique to the Uchiha clan was still evident in her expression.
“Sit.” Uchiha Gen gestured to the cushion opposite him.
He slid a steaming cup of tea toward her.
“What do you think of the child named Kazama Ryū?” Straight to the point.
Nain paused as she lifted the teacup, then took a sip as if unfazed.
“Just luck.
Nothing special.” She tried to maintain her cool composure, but the faint redness creeping up her ears betrayed her.
Uchiha Gen watched her quietly and smiled knowingly.
“Luck?” “Heh.
Being able to seize so-called ‘luck’ every single time isn’t luck—it’s ability.” Setting down his cup, his tone grew serious.
“His Substitution Technique, his planning—none of that is coincidence.
I’ve also heard you’ve been sparring with him lately… and losing quite a bit of money?” That last line landed like a perfectly timed strike.
Nain nearly spat out her tea.
“I—I was training him!
That was all!
For mutual improvement!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing.
“Hmph.
Just a moment of carelessness,” she added stiffly, crossing her arms and turning away.
“Once I awaken the Uchiha Bloodline Limit—the Sharingan—I’ll defeat him easily!” “The Sharingan…” Uchiha Gen repeated softly, his gaze growing distant.
He sighed, so quietly that only he could hear it.
“I actually hope… you never awaken those eyes.” “Grandfather?
What did you say?” Nain turned back, confused.
“Nothing.” Uchiha Gen straightened, his expression returning to that of a clan elder.
“Starting tomorrow, invite him to train at Uchiha Training Ground No.
7.” “What?
Why should I?!” Nain bristled instantly.
“This is an order,” Uchiha Gen said firmly.
“Go.” Nain stood up, stomped her foot, and stormed out.
Watching her retreating figure, Uchiha Gen lifted his teacup and blew gently across the surface.
Troubled times were approaching.
The great ship of the Uchiha was already beginning to tilt.
Securing a strong and intelligent safeguard for his granddaughter in advance… This was a worthwhile investment.
— Ryū returned home.
The battle with Kakashi replayed endlessly in his mind, every exchange vivid and clear.
Just as he was about to begin his nightly “grinding” routine— Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
Urgent, forceful knocking echoed through the door.
Ryū opened it to find Uchiha Nain standing outside, her expression stiff with reluctance.
Without even looking at him, she shoved a scroll into his arms.
“My grandfather wants you at Training Ground No.
7 starting tomorrow.
Don’t be late!” She turned and fled immediately, as though remaining another second would be unbearable.
Ryū opened the scroll, puzzled.
It was an official usage permit for the Uchiha clan’s private training ground, stamped with the Second Elder’s personal seal.
Tied beneath it was a heavy money pouch.
He untied it.
Inside were neatly stacked bills—at least 100,000 ryō at a glance.
There was also a note, written in bold, steady strokes: Training funds.
No need to return.
Ryū looked up just in time to see Nain disappear around the corner and smiled faintly.
Weighing the pouch in his hand, he felt an unexpected sense of reassurance.
“So… I just finished fighting Kakashi, and angel investment already shows up?” he muttered.
“The Uchiha clan actually has a good eye for business.” The message was obvious.
Uchiha Gen—that old fox—had seen his potential and placed his bet early.
And more importantly, it was probably for the sake of his tsundere granddaughter.
He wanted someone she could rely on when the battlefield inevitably arrived.
Ryū put away the scroll and money pouch and closed the door behind him.