The storage yard sat near the eastern commercial district, where several older warehouses had been squeezed between workshops, delivery lanes, and newer buildings over the years.
Nothing glamorous.
Which was probably why Might Duy had ended up there.
Fugaku had noticed his name the previous afternoon while reviewing the day's assignments.
Three junior officers from his team were following up on a string of missing supplies from one of the municipal storage yards.
Nothing particularly important had been stolen, mostly construction materials, tools, preserved food, and a few sealed crates of ordinary field equipment.
Individually, none of it was worth much.
Repeated disappearances were another matter.
Someone had either found an easy place to steal from or an employee had developed an expensive side business.
The yard manager had also requested several genin through the mission office to help recount the remaining inventory and move everything into newly assigned storage sections while the Police checked the records.
One of those names had caught Fugaku's attention.
Might Duy.
Convenient.
Very convenient.
Fugaku had not arranged any of it.
That was precisely why he liked it.
Today was his day off, but nobody would find it strange if a "diligent" Investigation Captain happened to drop by in surprise and see how three of his younger officers were handling an active case.
Especially Fugaku, who had always been somewhat demanding with his people.
So shortly before noon, he entered the storage district without hiding himself in the slightest.
His three officers noticed him almost immediately.
The youngest straightened.
"Captain?"
Fugaku glanced between them.
"Relax. I'm not here because you did something wrong."
That did not appear to relax them very much.
Fugaku almost smiled.
"How is it going?"
The senior of the three stepped forward.
"We finished comparing the yard's inventory records with the delivery logs. There are inconsistencies going back at least two months."
"Same items?"
"No. That's the strange part."
Fugaku looked toward the warehouses.
"Value?"
"Low enough individually that nobody noticed immediately. Whoever is doing it seems careful."
Better than some idiot stealing the same expensive equipment every week.
"Employees?"
"Seven regularly have access. We're checking their finances and interviewing them separately."
Fugaku nodded.
Reasonable.
"What about entry from outside?"
"Possible, but unlikely. No damaged locks. No obvious forced entry."
"So either someone has a key, someone is being allowed inside, or your thief knows enough about the yard to avoid leaving obvious signs."
"That's what we thought."
"Good."
Fugaku gave them a few more questions, mostly because he really was their captain and there was no reason to make his visit look artificial.
Only after several minutes did his attention wander toward the open loading area behind them.
There were four genin working there.
Three were doing what Fugaku expected from people assigned to a tedious D-rank mission.
Carrying boxes.
Complaining.
Taking every opportunity to slow down when the yard manager looked elsewhere.
The fourth was carrying enough weight to make Fugaku briefly wonder whether someone had misunderstood the assignment.
A large wooden crate rested across Might Duy's shoulders.
Another was strapped against his back.
He was moving at a brisk pace.
Not struggling.
Not staggering.
Brisk.
Fugaku watched him cross the yard, place both crates down carefully, turn, and immediately sprint back for another load.
One of the other genin stared after him.
"You know we're paid the same either way, right?"
Duy turned while still running backward.
"THAT IS EXACTLY WHY WE MUST GIVE THEM MORE THAN THEY EXPECT!"
The genin looked toward the sky as if asking some deity what he had done wrong.
Fugaku suppressed a smile.
There he was.
Might Duy.
At twenty-two, he looked somewhat less ridiculous than the image Fugaku remembered from the future, although not by much.
Green training clothes.
Thick eyebrows.
Black hair.
An expression carrying far too much enthusiasm for warehouse labor.
To everyone else, he was simply the eternal genin turning another embarrassing assignment into an excuse to exercise.
Fugaku looked a little more carefully.
Then activated his Sharingan.
Only the ordinary form.
At first, he saw nothing extraordinary.
Duy grabbed another crate.
Lifted.
Turned.
Moved.
Then Fugaku noticed the feet.
No unnecessary adjustment.
His heel barely touched the ground before his weight transferred forward again.
The crate should have pulled his center of gravity backward.
Instead, Duy had already shifted his hips before the weight settled.
His shoulders remained loose.
Breathing steady.
Chakra reinforcement appeared in brief, controlled pulses through the legs and lower back exactly when the load demanded it, then faded again.
Nothing individually spectacular.
Together...
Fugaku narrowed his eyes. Get faster updates on g.com.
"Interesting."
One of his officers followed his gaze.
"Duy?"
"You know him?"
"Everyone knows Duy."
That was probably true.
The officer lowered his voice slightly.
"He's been a genin forever. Takes every physical job he can get. Sometimes runs laps around the village carrying rocks."
Another officer added,
"I saw him doing handstand laps once."
Fugaku looked at him.
"Handstand laps."
"Yes, Captain."
"Why?"
"I didn't ask."
Wise man.
Fugaku knew Duy's "infamy" at such a young age was not actually that strange.
In Konoha, genin was barely meant to be a permanent rank.
It was a transitional one.
Most graduates were expected to move past it within a few years max.
The Academy gave you enough fundamentals to function as a shinobi.
Your first team was supposed to finish the process.
Basic teamwork.
Obedience to command.
Field discipline.
Chakra control drilled more closely than an Academy instructor ever could.
Most civilian genin teams did not even receive a legendary jōnin teacher.
More often, a competent chūnin handled them until they were ready for greater responsibility.
Perhaps they would go on to lead their own team, join a more advanced unit, or take some formal village position, such as an Academy instructor or guard.
The point was simple.
Graduate.
Learn the profession properly.
Become chūnin.
Duy had somehow failed at that for around a decade.
Which raised an obvious question.
Why?
They had allowed him to graduate despite his extreme specialization in taijutsu.
So perhaps the village had simply decided that taijutsu alone had a very low ceiling, after that, even if you were a genius in the field.
Useful enough to make someone a shinobi.
Not useful enough to make him an important one.
Fugaku almost smiled.
How spectacularly wrong that assumption could become.
It would also explain why Duy kept receiving missions like this.
Manual labor.
Deliveries.
Maintenance.
Low-risk D-ranks where physical endurance was useful but nobody expected combat.
Because if someone had ever sent him on a genuinely difficult mission, sooner or later Duy would have been forced to show what he could actually do.
Then the next mission would have been harder.
And the next one harder still.
His reputation would have changed very quickly.
Yet apparently that had never happened.
Which meant that Konoha had underestimated him so completely that nobody bothered testing him...
And Duy himself had never corrected them.
That possibility made Fugaku look at him differently.
Perhaps the man was not quite as simple as everyone assumed.
If Duy understood even vaguely how dangerous attention could become in the shinobi world, remaining an unimpressive genin had its advantages.
And he was right, after all; Sakumo offered a rather grim precedent for what could happen to someone born around the same time who eventually shone a little too brightly.
No political expectations.
No important enemies.
No classified assignments.
No one trying to turn you into somebody's weapon.
Just ridiculous exercises, embarrassing missions, and a quiet life with your family.
Fugaku glanced at Duy again.
Maybe it had been accidental.
Maybe not.
Either way, he found himself increasingly impressed with the man.
The man had picked up another pair of crates.
Again, the same thing.
No wasted movement.
Not polished in the way Uchiha clan taijutsu was polished.
There was nothing elegant about it.
But the body underneath those ridiculous green clothes was operating with an efficiency Fugaku did not expect from a genin.
More importantly, Duy was not consciously preparing himself before each movement.
It was automatic.
Years of repetition had stripped away everything unnecessary.
Fugaku deactivated the Sharingan.
"Continue with the interviews," he told his officers.
The senior one nodded.
"Yes, Captain."
"I'll look around for a while."
None of them questioned it.
Why would they?
Fugaku walked deeper into the yard.
He did not go directly toward Duy.
That would be too obvious.
Instead, he inspected one of the storage buildings, asked the manager two questions about the missing inventory, glanced through an unlocked side entrance, and spent several minutes behaving exactly like a captain who had decided to personally familiarize himself with the scene.
Only then did Duy happen to pass near him.
The genin was carrying three smaller crates stacked almost high enough to block his face.
Fugaku stepped aside.
Then Fugaku spoke.
"You always move like that?"
Duy stopped.
The crates remained balanced in his arms.
He leaned sideways enough to see who had spoken.
His eyes widened.
"Captain Uchiha!"
Several heads turned.
Fugaku immediately regretted selecting a man apparently incapable of using an indoor voice while outdoors.
"Yes."
Duy lowered the crates.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
Fugaku glanced at his feet.
"Your movement."
Duy blinked.
"My movement?"
"Your footing is better than I'd expect from a genin."
Silence.
Duy stared at him.
Then his face transformed.
Fugaku saw it happen and immediately knew he had made a mistake.
"You noticed?!"
"Apparently."
Duy clenched both fists.
"After all these years, a distinguished shinobi has finally recognized the fruits of my youthful training!"
"Don't make me regret it."
Duy appeared not to hear that part.
Fugaku looked down at the crates.
"You shift your center of gravity before taking the load. Your chakra reinforcement also follows the movement instead of remaining constant."
Duy's expression changed again.
The enthusiasm remained, but there was genuine surprise underneath it now.
"You could tell?"
Fugaku tapped lightly beneath one eye.
"I have a Sharingan. It would be embarrassing if I couldn't."
Duy laughed loudly, but there was something more to his gaze.
"Of course!"
Fugaku studied him.
"You trained that deliberately?"
"Every day."
"For how long?"
Duy proudly raised a thumb.
"Years!"
That answered absolutely nothing.
Fugaku tried again.
"Taijutsu?"
"Taijutsu! Conditioning! Endurance! Speed! Strength! The complete cultivation of youth!"
Fugaku stared at him.
"That last one isn't a training category."
"It should be."
Somehow, Fugaku could already see where Guy had gotten it from.
He folded his arms.
"So you believe all this physical training can compensate for weak ninjutsu."
Duy's expression became unexpectedly serious.
"Not compensate."
Fugaku raised an eyebrow.
"Then what?"
Duy looked directly at him.
"Surpass it."
There it was.
Not embarrassment.
Not the defensive answer of a man desperately rationalizing his failures.
No deliberate hiding of his strength once his proudest spot was mentioned.
Conviction.
Fugaku deliberately let a little skepticism enter his face.
"That's a large claim for someone who is still a genin."
Duy froze.
For perhaps two seconds.
Then fire practically returned to his eyes.
"Then allow me to demonstrate!"
Fugaku almost laughed.
He had not even needed to ask.
"Demonstrate."
Duy pointed toward an empty section of the yard behind the warehouses.
His gaze somewhat meaningful.
"A youthful spar!"
Fugaku looked at him.
Then at the empty space.
Then back at Duy.
"I have some time."
Duy's smile became enormous.
"EXCELLENT!"
Fugaku sighed internally.
"Six minutes."
He had known the man for roughly six minutes.
And somehow he already understood why half of Konoha avoided encouraging him.
.
.
.
.