"Hero-kun," Shisui said gently, placing a hand on Hero's shoulder.
His palm was light, but the gesture carried a strange weight. He had noticed the slight tremble in Hero's arm a moment earlier.
Because Shisui had graduated early, he was still a bit short for his age—so the image of him comforting Hero looked almost comedic, like a kid trying to console another in an adult's world.
"You don't have to worry too much," he said warmly. "Honestly, I didn't expect Satsuna-sama to personally lead the mission. That means the danger level on your side might not be too high."
That easygoing smile again.
The same boy who had volunteered to march into the blood-soaked trenches of Rain Country… was now standing here, reassuring the one sent to what was supposedly a safer assignment.
Hero blinked.
"…Seriously?! First you steal my easy mission, and now you're hogging the glorious death job too?!"
"Could you maybe act like a normal person for once?!"
Shisui chuckled. "I still need to finish a C-rank before tomorrow's departure, so I'll be off for now."
He shook the scroll in his hand, turned, and left.
As his footsteps faded, Hero stood quietly in the hallway, expression unreadable.
Was the Land of Hot Water really not dangerous?
He wasn't convinced.
***
Nightfall.
A full moon rose from behind the clouds, casting a silver glow over the Uchiha district. Shadows stretched long across the tiled roofs, tracing the outline of the ancient compound.
Inside a dimly lit chamber, the soft clack of wooden geta echoed as Elder Uchiha Satsuna entered.
Dozens of Sharingan eyes blinked to life in the dark.
"Elder!" came the united call.
He moved without pause, taking his seat at the head of the gathering.
At his right sat Uchiha Yatsushiro, second-in-command of the Hawk Faction. Below them—nearly a hundred Uchiha shinobi, each of them at least Chunin rank, each with the crimson glow of an active Sharingan.
This was the true strength of the Hawk Faction—fierce, loyal, absolute.
"Elder," Yatsushiro said after a moment, voice laced with concern, "I must ask—why assign a Genin to this mission? And not even one with a Sharingan. The Valley is unstable. Did the clan not already assess the situation?"
Satsuna sipped from his tea calmly. "I will be leading it personally. I am enough."
Yatsushiro frowned deeper. "It's not just the Chinoike Clan reemerging or the increased pressure from our surveillance duties. The Land of Hot Water is a crossroads between the Fire, Lightning, and Water nations. Intelligence shows Iwa and Suna have already clashed with Kiri in nearby zones."
"And besides that—"
His tone darkened.
"You've got war remnants roaming wild—sects like Prajna, fanatics from the Cult of Jashin, old rogue clans like the Tsuchigumo. We've picked up scattered remnants from the Uzushio resistance, rogue Hunter-nin, Raincut assassination teams, even Iwa's demolition corps... and Rasa, the Kazekage candidate, is racking up kills on the Kiri front."
"Even the black market bounty hunters are pouring in."
He paused. "The region is boiling."
A mission into that chaos with just a Chunin and a Genin?
It bordered on suicide.
But Satsuna's response was unwavering. "I. Am. Enough."
"This mission wasn't commissioned by the Hokage. It comes directly from the Daimyo of the Land of Lightning. It's a long-term high-value contract—one of the few sources of income not bound by village politics."
He set the teacup down slowly.
"Never base your safety on others—especially not on Konoha, Hiruzen… or Danzo."
His Sharingan gleamed in the dark, emotionless and cold. "Only what you hold in your own hands is real. Anything given with a smile can be taken with a scowl."
Yatsushiro fell silent.
They both knew the truth—shinobi were tools. The Uchiha's power and wealth came from blood and coin, not gifts from the village.
And missions like this, commissioned directly to the clan, paid like gold.
Watching the Chinoike Clan alone was worth an annual S-rank reward.
Satsuna wouldn't let Konoha take control.
***
Clunk.
Hero opened his door—just in time to see a dust-covered boy in goggles fall from a nearby tree.
No need to ask what happened. Obito had clearly botched chakra control practice again.
"…Obito, what the hell?"
Obito stood, brushing himself off with exaggerated flair. "Yo, Hero-kun! Haha… just warming up for the Chunin Exams!"
Then he pouted. "Stupid Kakashi! Just 'cause he's a Chunin, he thinks he can boss me around all the time."
"Today's mission? Catching cats. Cats! I'm gonna get so good at this chakra thing, I'll throw a Chunin vest in his smug face one day!"
Hero squinted at him.
The timeline was catching up.
He had been here a whole year now. A quiet Konoha. A calm before the storm.
Obito had already joined Team Minato. They were doing D-rank errands together.
But Obito's Chunin dream… wouldn't happen soon.
Because war was coming.
The frontlines would swallow Minato, and Obito would follow.
And somewhere far down that timeline, when Konoha finally held a Chunin Exam again…
Obito would be the one kicked across the arena by Might Guy—yet still pass.
Hero exhaled quietly.
"Why are you spacing out?" Obito grinned. "Come on, Grandma made noodles!"
"…Alright, give me a sec."
Hero turned to put down the few things he'd retrieved—a battered fork, old sandals from the riverbank.
But the aluminum cans he'd collected that afternoon?
Gone.
Stolen.
Bag and all.
Hero sighed bitterly.
This world… was slipping.
Even in peaceful Konoha, theft like this was rare.
But lately, even the Uchiha Police Force had been stretched thin—so many clan meetings, fewer patrols.
No one had time to chase small crooks.