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Chapter 160n
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 15:19:49 +0000 UTCChapter 160n
2-in-1-chapter
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It was unfortunate that Uchiha Itachi was the elder son of Elder Fugaku, and because of the age difference he had never had much contact with Rēn. By contrast, Fugaku’s younger son Sasuke often accompanied Fujika and Naruto in and out of the Police Force headquarters, and he was familiar with Ranzan and the others.
“That’s right. Elder Fugaku’s elder son. They say he’s a rare genius within the clan. Though only ten years old, he has wisdom as mature as an adult’s. If it’s that child, perhaps it would only take a few months before you, Ranzan, would have to step aside and let him take over.”
“…Commander, you can’t be serious about that, can you?” Uchiha Ranzan asked uncertainly.
“Elder Fugaku is Elder Fugaku. There’s no need to hold bias against his children just because of him. In the end, we are all Uchiha. If we cannot even maintain unity within our own clan, then we should stop speaking of restoring the glory of the past altogether.”
Rēn spoke with deliberate calm, his words impeccable in logic.
Of course, such words could not be refuted; anyone with even the most basic education knew that unity was the correct path. Yet internal strife existed everywhere—within families, within organizations, within nations. Conflict would never truly disappear.
Ranzan hesitated.
He did not think bringing Itachi into the Police Force was a good idea, but Rēn clearly had his own considerations. After a long moment of thought, he swallowed the words of dissuasion. Even if Itachi were brought over, he would need to be observed for some time before he could be of use.
It would not be too late to pass judgment after direct contact.
“If I recall correctly, Itachi is currently a free shinobi, isn’t he? Not registered with the Police Force, nor part of any other department in the village…” Rēn murmured, as memories of Itachi flowed through his mind.
The shinobi of Konoha could broadly be divided into two categories: those who received salaries, and those who did not.
Those who received salaries were the ones employed in administrative departments such as the Police Force, the Medical Corps, or the ANBU. They held official posts and performed regular duties, much like public servants.
The others were the unsalaried type, the kind of shinobi most civilians thought of when they used the word “shinobi.”
The unsalaried had no fixed positions within the village and were not tied to any department. The village did not pay them wages; to earn their living expenses they had to complete missions and receive payment in return. The first group was limited in number, while the second made up the majority of Konoha’s shinobi.
In the original history, Kakashi had been of the first type when he served in the ANBU. When he resigned, he became one of the second type.
At present, Uchiha Itachi belonged to the second group.
If history remained unchanged, Itachi would soon join the ANBU. But the future of Konoha had already been reshaped entirely by Rēn. With Hiruzen Sarutobi and Shimura Danzō gone, the Uchiha clan, though still viewed poorly, had escaped the fate of attempting a coup.
In this new future, what path would Itachi choose?
Rēn could not avoid considering this younger clansman. This was the one who, in another history, had steeled himself to massacre his entire clan and even his own parents. And his parents had not been cruel tyrants; Fugaku had been strict, Mikoto had been gentle. Itachi had grown up in what many would envy as a near-perfect family.
Yet even so, he had still brought the blade down.
At the time, he had been only thirteen years old.
“What a headache,” Rēn thought.
How should he deal with Itachi? He wavered. He had considered simply killing him outright, condemning him for crimes not yet committed and perhaps never to be. But to execute him in that way gave him pause.
That, he admitted, was nonsense.
Rēn had fought and survived this far, with blood on his hands beyond count. He was not one to grow soft-hearted over Itachi. The reason he abandoned the idea of killing him was simple: it would be a waste.
If Hiruzen, Obito, and others had all seen value in using Itachi, then as head of the Uchiha, he too naturally had the authority to command him. To discard such a useful piece would be foolish. Moreover, Itachi’s Susanoo possessed the Totsuka Blade and the Yata Mirror, two spiritual treasures that anyone would covet.
By comparison, Rēn’s Susanoo was poorly equipped.
Only the standard longsword, with nothing else of note.
If possible, Rēn wished he could upgrade his own Susanoo’s armaments. Just as he now wielded the Uchiha Fan, perhaps his Susanoo could be fitted with greater weapons as well.
“In any case, Ranzan, make sure to bring that child over.”
After much deliberation, Rēn had reached a decision.
Rather than leave Itachi unattended, or simply kill him, it was better to bring him into the Police Force and keep him under watch. If the boy showed the slightest sign of betrayal, Rēn could strike him down immediately.
“And if he refuses?” Ranzan asked.
“Then summon him in the name of the clan head.”
The title of clan head was not mere decoration. It carried clear authority of reward and punishment over the clan’s members.
“Very well. I understand.”
Ranzan nodded.
“That’s enough for today. We’ll speak of other matters tomorrow.”
Rēn turned to the window.
The orange-red glow of the sunset streamed through, gilding the office floor in a brilliant sheen. Without realizing it, the day had already passed, and the village’s rising evening smoke was visible in the distance. It was indeed time to end work.
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In Konoha, at the northeastern corner, within the Uchiha clan’s compound.
On a training ground deep in the woods, beneath the light of the setting sun, two brothers sparred. The five-year-old Uchiha Sasuke gripped a kunai and launched repeated attacks. But his movements were so crude that Uchiha Itachi could spot his little brother’s flaws without even using the Sharingan.
“Sasuke, when you charge forward your arm swings too widely. Lower your center of gravity a bit more. Learning how to stand firmly is very important.”
Itachi broke down his attacks as he parried them, giving guidance on how Sasuke should correct his mistakes.
The boy listened with full attention, carefully committing every word his elder brother spoke to memory, adjusting his movements little by little as instructed. This kind of training had already become part of his daily routine; after classes at the Academy, before dinner, he would always practice here in the training ground with his brother.
“Sasuke, you can rest now.”
Uchiha Itachi raised his head and looked through the dense canopy at the sky that was already darkening. His hands moved faster, and in an instant he disarmed his younger brother, taking the kunai from his hand. Then he pressed his palm gently against the boy’s head and said softly, “Let’s go home. Mother should have finished preparing dinner by now and is waiting for us.”
“Eh? Already? The sun hasn’t even set yet.”
Sasuke was unwilling to leave so soon; nothing brought him more joy than training with his brother.
“If we go back too late, Father might not allow us to come train at this time anymore,” Itachi said as he began to pack up.
“…Fine.”
Remembering his father’s stern demeanor, Sasuke gave in.
Although his father now had more time to personally instruct him, Sasuke still preferred training together with his brother.
The two of them gathered their things, left the training ground, and returned home. Sliding open the door, they had barely stepped into the entryway when they saw Uchiha Fugaku standing in the hallway. Dressed in a simple house kimono, his hands tucked into his sleeves, the former clan head glared at his two sons who had just returned and barked sharply:
“You are too slow!”
“Sasuke is still young and does not understand, but Itachi, how can you join him in such foolishness? Day after day the two of you are never home, always wandering about outside. It is unacceptable.”
The severity of his tone made Sasuke lower his head uneasily, clutching at his brother’s clothing.
“Father, this weekend I plan to take on a mission. At that time I’ll have to trouble you to guide Sasuke in his training,” Itachi answered calmly. Such rebukes were nothing new; he already knew how to handle them.
As expected, Fugaku’s expression remained stern, but he said nothing further. He turned and walked straight toward the dining room. Itachi glanced back and gave his brother a reassuring smile. The two of them changed their shoes in the entryway, while from inside, Uchiha Mikoto—having heard the exchange at the door—poked her head out with a warm smile, urging them to wash their hands.
Dinner that night was sukiyaki.
The family of four sat together around the table. Strictly speaking, they were already a family of five, for Mikoto’s gently rounded belly carried a new life within.
“While I was out shopping today I heard the clan head has returned?”
Mikoto placed a piece of beef into Sasuke’s bowl while speaking distractedly to her husband.
“Yes, he has returned.”
“There won’t be any ceremonies or gatherings?”
“There were plans, but before coming back the clan head sent word that it wasn’t necessary to waste effort on such a display. After some discussion it was canceled. The northern front is still unsettled, so it’s likely he’ll have to go north again.”
Fugaku picked up a piece of tofu, cooling it as he spoke. By the time he finished, the tofu was ready to eat.
“Still to the north? That sounds exhausting.”
“Those with ability bear more responsibility.”
Fugaku turned his gaze to his elder son. “Itachi, do you want to go north? When you were small I once took you to see the battlefield, but at the time you were too young to truly understand. If you wish to know what war really means, you can take this opportunity to see for yourself.”
Itachi was caught off guard. He had not expected his father to suddenly pose such a question.
“Fugaku, what are you saying? Itachi is only ten years old.”
Mikoto’s expression hardened. Like most mothers, she did not want to see her child sent to the battlefield. Especially now, while she was pregnant, she could not bear the thought of receiving bad news. Even though she understood clearly that shinobi lived constantly on the edge of death, the maternal instinct was stronger than reason.
“Itachi, think about it carefully. Such an opportunity does not come often.”
Fugaku ignored his wife and spoke seriously to his son.
For a shinobi, to experience firsthand the cruelty of war was not a bad thing. Itachi had always been extraordinarily gifted, and though he had not grown arrogant from it, Fugaku still believed that seeing battle would only benefit him. As for danger, shinobi lived with risk at all times, and there were countless who perished even on ordinary missions. He believed that with Itachi’s abilities, unless misfortune struck, surviving and returning would not be too difficult.
“I will think about it,” Itachi replied quietly, lowering his head.
