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Chapter 159n
🕑 Added 2025-09-13 18:09:04 +0000 UTCChapter 159n
2-in-1-chapter
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Uchiha Rēn sat on the sofa, his sharp gaze fixed on Hōzuki Mangetsu across from him. The so-called prodigy of Kirigakure grew increasingly uncomfortable under the stare, but he could not simply stand up and leave. He had no choice but to endure it, answering each question with rigid seriousness.
Momochi Zabuza sat nearby, while Ringo Ameyuri—whose mind was always consumed by battle and training—had turned away in disappointment when she realized Uchiha Chihaya had not come with Rēn, choosing instead to head to the training grounds alone.
“Mangetsu, there’s no need to be so tense. The front lines aren’t at the point where you’ll be sent out just yet. On the contrary, I came to tell you to rest here in Konoha for the time being. You won’t be needed at the front lines for a while. When the time comes, you’ll be notified.”
“I understand. We’ll remain ready at all times,” Mangetsu replied earnestly.
“I told you, relax. You won’t be called upon for now. Take this time in Konoha to rest. Konoha and Kirigakure are very different. You should go out, walk the village, and see its customs for yourself.”
“Thank you for the suggestion. If time permits, we will certainly do so. There is much in Konoha that we can learn from.”
Mangetsu’s words were polite. Partly, it was because he was now the commander of two thousand Mist-nin, and too much levity would have seemed improper. But more than that, it was because in Rēn’s presence he felt an unshakable pressure, a weight that kept him restrained.
Uchiha Rēn’s strength had left a deep impression on him—an impression that could not be erased. In this world, strength was the undeniable truth.
“All right. Whether you train in seclusion or relax outside is up to you. But Mangetsu, keep your subordinates in check. Don’t let them cause trouble in Konoha. The Uchiha clan manages the Police Force, and we are responsible for the order of the village. If someone creates trouble, it will be difficult to deal with. If possible, I would prefer not to encounter such situations.”
This was a warning, plain and direct.
The rules of Konoha were not the same as those of Kirigakure. The Mist’s brutal and ruthless code of survival could not be applied here. If they stayed indoors, nothing would happen, but once outside, there was every chance of stirring up problems. Such a possibility was far from small.
To avoid unnecessary complications, Rēn gave Hōzuki Mangetsu advance notice.
“I understand, Clan Head Rēn. Please rest assured. Mist-nin will never disobey orders. While we remain in Konoha, I guarantee no one will harm a single villager.”
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Rēn sat in his office on the second floor of the Police Force headquarters. In front of him lay a thick stack of reports covering the months he had been absent. While he was away at the front lines, Uchiha Ranzan had been handling the work of the Police Force, temporarily exercising the powers of commander.
But months apart had left Ranzan far more gaunt than Rēn remembered. It was clear that wielding authority had not been an easy burden for him. The deep shadows beneath his eyes told of many sleepless nights. Even so, though thinner, he stood before the desk with the rigid bearing of a tempered blade, unbending and unbroken.
“Ranzan, entrusting you with the Police Force was indeed the right choice. You’ve worked hard.” Rēn flipped through the reports. The documents were orderly and clear, allowing him to grasp the state of the Police Force without effort.
Summed up in two words: steady progress.
During his time acting as commander, Ranzan had not undertaken any dazzling reforms, but had kept everything balanced, maintaining the Police Force according to the regulations Rēn had left behind. It was stable and without flaw.
“Rather than being thanked for my effort, I’d rather the commander give me a couple of days off. Failing that, send me to the front lines. I haven’t held a sword in almost a month. From dawn to dusk my hands hold only a pen. Even when eating or using the latrine I’m still reading documents.”
Ranzan’s face was weary, and his words carried undisguised complaint. “At this rate, once I’m on the battlefield, I’ll have forgotten how to cut a man down.”
Despite his steady nature, he was Uchiha through and through. A love of combat ran in their blood. Even one as mild as Uchiha Shisui would sometimes feel the itch to test his strength. Compared with peace behind a desk, most of their clan would rather dance on the edge of a blade, reveling in the thrill of life and death.
“…Two months ago, what was Elder Fugaku doing when he came to the Police Force?” Rēn shifted the subject. The clan was never short of capable fighters. Even if the older veterans were set aside, those constantly at his side—Chihaya, Futaba, Akitarō, Hokuto—were not yet ready to stand entirely on their own, but they could still be relied upon.
By contrast, people like Ranzan who could share the burden of administrative work were few. If Ranzan were released, where would Rēn find a second person to handle the endless paperwork of the Police Force?
“Looks like I’ll be stuck in the office even longer. When will this end…”
Ranzan sighed, though not with surprise, and then rallied himself.
"Elder Fugaku came to check if there were any oversights in the Police Force. He walked a circuit and left. Before going, he said if help was needed we could call on him. Fortunately, nothing came up. Copying the procedures you left behind is within my ability—I didn’t need Elder Fugaku’s help.”
“And what do you think Elder Fugaku intended?”
“He probably just wanted to look in. Elder Fugaku doesn’t strike me as an ambitious man.”
“Then leave it at that. Let Elder Fugaku fulfill the duties of an elder within the clan. The Police Force doesn’t need him involved. I think you’ve done very well.” Rēn did not give the matter much weight. Most likely, Fugaku truly had meant to help. But whether sincere or not, a retired elder should simply remain in retirement.
If he had chosen to hide his strength, then let him stay hidden until death.
The Uchiha did not lack for potential Mangekyō Sharingan in their midst.
“Commander, all I can do is preserve what you left behind. Even that already takes all my strength. As for innovation, don’t expect it of me. The Legal Affairs Division is still nothing but an empty shell. The office space has already become a storeroom.”
“There’s no rush. That division was promised to Shisui. Since he isn’t here, it can wait until he returns. Let him make what he will of it. As for reforming the Police Force, that can wait as well. I have my own plans. For now, just help me keep it running.”
Reform was inevitable.
To completely overturn the villagers ingrained perception of the Uchiha clan and to wash away the foul reputation that had long weighed upon them, Rēn had already begun planning a restructuring of the Police Force once Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzō had been decisively defeated. His intention was to dismantle the ossified old Police Force and establish a new one.
But plans rarely kept pace with changes. That fool Uchiha Obito had drawn in the Mist-nin, forcing the plan to be set aside. And when the Mist were finally subdued, the Cloud-nin leapt out to seize their own chance.
At such a time, it was hardly suitable to begin major reforms within the Police Force.
“I’ll do my best,” Uchiha Ranzan sighed in resignation.
“Ranzan, if you find it unbearable, then select a few clever and capable juniors from the clan. Train them as successors. In two years you could be free.” Rēn offered his right-hand man some advice. Even a beast of burden needed a carrot to keep it moving; a stick alone was not enough.
“Two years?”
Ranzan stared at him, speechless. His eyes said everything: had it not been promised at the start that this would only last a few months? How had it become two years? What kind of joke was this?
“…Well, you know, it’s just that capable people shoulder more work. Hahaha…”
Rēn’s smile was somewhat awkward.
He had let something slip, and could only patch it over with forced cheer. “Besides, two years was just a figure of speech. If things go well, perhaps within a year or so one of your disciples could graduate. Don’t you think?”
“But it could also be two or three years without a single graduate. In that case, wouldn’t I be stuck doing this indefinitely?”
Ranzan’s voice was flat, exposing the flaw in Rēn’s words without the faintest change of tone.
“…Well…”
Rēn opened his mouth, then fell silent.
So be it.
He had never intended to release Ranzan from the Police Force. In his view, Ranzan’s value here far surpassed what he could achieve brandishing a blade in battle. Still, if Ranzan truly disliked being trapped in paperwork for years, then Rēn would have to think of cultivating new talent.
They had been comrades-in-arms, after all. He could not treat Ranzan as a mere workhorse to be exploited.
Yet finding someone to replace him would not be easy.
At that moment, Ranzan shook his head and sighed. “Hopefully we can find a few obedient, capable juniors from the clan. Tell me, Rēn—do you have any recommendations? Any families with promising candidates? If so, that would save a great deal of effort.”
“…Ranzan, you sly dog.”
Rēn chuckled. He had been maneuvered neatly into a corner.
“Division Commander—no, Clan Head—do you have any juniors in mind who could succeed me?”
“There are certainly candidates.”
Rēn spoke slowly. Back when he had first begun building his faction, he had already investigated the details of every household in the clan: how many members, the children’s ages, even whether they kept pets. As clan head, his grasp of such information was even clearer. Updated records of the clan population lay in the study adjoining his own bedroom.
Come to think of it, Ranzan had always been his most reliable arm.
Much of that data had been gathered and organized by Ranzan himself. Whether suitable candidates existed, he no doubt already knew. By asking now, he was really seeking Rēn’s judgment. After all, Ranzan was the Police Force’s second-in-command. Replacing him could not be left to just anyone.
“There is one particularly interesting junior… Uchiha Itachi. Ranzan, are you familiar with him?”
“Uchiha Itachi? Elder Fugaku’s eldest son?”
Ranzan frowned in puzzlement. Of course he knew the boy. He was a prodigy often compared to Rēn and Shisui, only ten years old and already a Chūnin. And this was not a battlefield promotion during wartime—under normal circumstances, Academy students graduated at twelve.
A ten-year-old Chūnin.
That level of talent was enough to break every convention.
