Sinbad
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Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 21:45:15 +0000 UTCHome
June 1, 1 bNb
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The barrier shimmered in his eyes—threads of chakra webbed across the treetops and curved over distant rooftops.
To most people, it was invisible.
But with the Sharingan spinning slowly in his tired eyes, it looked like a grand sight.
Too bad it was useless whenever you needed it.
He kicked a rock off the side of the road and kept walking.
The gates of Konoha were ahead, and they looked exactly as they had when he left the village. Massive slabs of stone darkened by years of smoke, weather, and time. The walls had been rebuilt twice from what he knew, and even then, they still looked nothing like an artistic masterpiece.
Talk about a waste of money.
A minute later, his boots tapped against the final stretch of road. The mud was gone, now replaced by the crunch of packed gravel.
Two guards stood by the open gates.
New faces.
Both looked maybe a year or two older than him.
One was tall and broad, with dark hair tied back and a crooked nose that had probably been broken before puberty. The other was shorter, wiry, and had freckles and a Leaf hitai-ate that looked freshly scrubbed.
Their vests were clean, and their boots were dry. Neither looked like they’d seen a battlefield in the last month.
That was probably the point, though. Keep things normal, and you kept the civilians calm. Two bored shinobi at the gate gave the illusion of peace.
Izuma adjusted the strap of his pack and slowed as he approached. His hood was down. The rain had stopped, but his cloak was still heavy. His tanto was strapped across his back and had actually managed to remain untouched, for once.
They noticed him instantly—the taller of the two guards squinted at him, then straightened his stance. “Morning. State your name and purpose?”
Izuma blinked at him.
Then deadpanned: “The eyes don’t give it away?”
The shorter one narrowed his gaze. Then recognition hit his face, like a lightbulb had just been lit on top of his head.
“Oh,” he said. “Ohhh. Wait. You’re—you’re Uchiha—uh—”
“Izuma,” the taller one finished. “Izuma Uchiha. Right?”
Izuma sighed. “Damn. And I was really hoping to sneak in under the radar.”
The shorter one laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, man. It’s just—we weren’t expecting anyone back today. Definitely not someone with a bingo book profile.”
Izuma raised an eyebrow. “You’ve read over my file?” he asked, receiving two nods.
“Was it fun to read? It isn’t easy building such a glamorous reputation,” he joked.
“Well,” the taller one said, trying to look composed. “It’s not boring.”
“Which part was your favorite? The part where I allegedly set a river on fire, or the part where I definitely didn’t blow up a weapons convoy in Noodle heaven?”
The shorter one grinned. “Wait, that was you? That rumor’s been going around the village for a week.”
“I’m not saying yes,” Izuma said. “But I’m not saying no, either.”
They both chuckled, easing a little.
The taller one extended a hand. “I’m Aoki. This is Aoto.”
Izuma shook it. “Nice to meet you. You two new on gate duty?”
“Yeah, just got rotated in,” Aoki replied. “Trying not to mess up too bad.”
“You’re doing great,” Izuma said dryly. “I’ve only been detained zero times so far.”
Aoto laughed again. “What was it like out there?”
Izuma scratched his chin. “Which part? The war? The terrain? The soup?”
“The soup?”
He nodded solemnly. “Udon Town’s broth is mid at best, which was certainly a bummer, but the spices are weirdly good. Maybe that’s their way of taking out their anger at us shinobi: by trying to spice us to death.”
Aoto snorted. “Sounds awful.”
“Better than the politics,” Izuma muttered, then added more casually, “It’s been rough. People are scared. Fighting over things they can’t even name. Half the kids think kunai grow on trees, and the other half are too worried about survival to care. It’s a mess.”
Aoki scratched his chin. “That place is really that bad?”
“Worse,” Izuma said. “But that’s war for you, I guess.”
The mood dipped slightly.
Then Aoki said, “Well, if it’s any comfort, I heard the Hokage’s office got a new tea set for his guests. So things must be looking up.”
Izuma rolled his eyes. “I’ll sleep better tonight.”
That earned a laugh from the two.
“You’re new to the post,” he said, shifting his gaze slightly. “Guess the old pair rotated out?”
“Two days ago,” Aoki confirmed. “They reassigned us after we passed the perimeter certification exam.”
“Congrats,” Izuma said. “Gate duty means you’re now the first and last line of defense. So if things go south, you lot can protect me, right?”
Aoto grinned. “Depends on how well you pay.”
“Half a sandwich?”
“I’ll take it,” he chuckled, holding out an expectant hand. He took his hand back a second later with an embarrassed cough. “Uhh, but yeah, the position, it’s nice. It’s safer than patrolling the border.”
Izuma laughed, much to Aoto’s embarrassment and Aoki’s amusement. “Keep your eyes wide and try not to fall asleep on the job.”
He pulled the strap on his bag tighter. “Alright. I should report in. Hokage’s probably wondering if I choked to death on a rice ball somewhere.”
“Safe travels,” Aoto said.
“Welcome back,” Aoki added.
Izuma nodded. “Thanks.”
.
The moment he was out of earshot, both guards froze.
Aoto whispered first. “Holy shit.”
Aoki let out a low whistle. “That was Izuma Uchiha.”
“Yeah,” Aoki said, blinking slowly. “Yeah, it was.”
“I mean, I knew he was good,” Aoto added. “But he’s… normal.”
“Terrifying eyes,” Aoki muttered.
“Also, that.”
Then Aoto paused, staring ahead blankly. “I tried to extort him for a sandwich. I’m going to die.”
Aoki made a strangled noise. “I laughed at his ramen story.”
Aoto groaned. “We laughed with him. That’s like...I don’t know. But do you think we’re friends now? Surely this makes us friends?”
Aoki looked at him. “That guy’s a jōnin, kill count in the hundreds—he’s pretty much like special ops.”
They stood in stunned silence for a moment longer.
Then Aoto leaned against the post. “Do you think we should’ve saluted or something?”
“Probably.”
Aoto frowned. “...We messed up, didn’t we?”
Aoki nodded. “Definitely.”
They both sighed in unison—out went their promotion.
.
Konoha hadn’t changed much.
Vendors lined the roads as the smell of grilled yakitori drifted from a food stall near the corner. Nearby, someone was currently haggling over fruit prices.
Someone else had plopped himself near a closed shop and began playing the shamisen. Passersby groaned and told him to get lost—he laughed and continued playing.
After a particularly bad chord, a man told the musician he would pay him to, in layman's terms, fuck off.
In response, the shamisen player repeated the same chord over and over again until the man got so fed up he stomped away.
He then broke out into laughter and packed up.
Izuma smiled at the interaction—Konoha buzzed like nowhere else he had been before.
The people were all nice, and even unfriendly encounters had a way of entertaining people. The village really was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
And in his mind, that contrast brought back memories.
He remembered Udon Town. Ghost Town seemed more apt a name. Not because of the lack of people, but because few people spoke. They were too traumatized by the horrors brought about by Izuma’s kind: shinobi, to be specific.
Soba Town came next. It, too, was in the Land of the Noodles, but it was closer to the Fire Country Border, and so the town was in far better condition. The people were in better spirits, too.
Then Frost Country—months ago now. Ice and snow ran on for miles—lightning as well, if a fight was going on. Kumo pushed forth, Konoha defended. Konoha pushed forth, and Kumo defended. It was like a dance that made no progress.
And then the Raikage had died right after that.
Assassinated.
Well, as much as being jumped by 10,000 ninjas counted as an assassination.
Man, now that he thought about it, they really did not want that man alive. And a small part of him couldn’t blame them—the Raikage was a terrifying man, because what the fuck do you mean he fought the eight-tails to a standstill.
But suddenly, Kumo wasn’t looking at Konoha anymore: they were looking at Iwa. That had been the only reason the fighting stopped around Seto and Odate Town.
He’d passed through those, too.
Even though the fighting had moved elsewhere, the prior clashes between Cloud and Leaf had not been kind to the geography of the Frost, and so, par for the course, the civilians had died en masse.
And then there was Grass Country.
That was real war. No other front he had been to could compare, and he’d spent most of his time there, too, at a place near Noda Town. Or what used to be Noda.
There was no town now. No caved-in homes either—just nothing. The civilians? Dead. Nearby animals? Dead. Buildings? Gone.
According to the last census report he’d seen, Grass Country had lost almost half its population. And most of those hadn’t been shinobi.
Not combatants, certainly not threats, just normal people trying to go about their everyday lives.
Those very lives had been robbed from them because two military superpowers had given them the unfortunate present of making their country the ground for their war.
Joy.
He inhaled through his nose, the scent of sweet potatoes and the slight rumbling of his stomach bringing him back to reality.
While others had their world shifted, Konoha’s streets were still the same:
Clean, wide, and bustling.
And in his mind, came a quote from another—but actually, the same—life.
“Those who do not understand true pain can never understand true peace.”
He rubbed his temple and clenched his other fist.
A second later, both hands fell limp by his side because he couldn’t hate Konoha for being peaceful.
He loved this place, every ridiculous shop, every clingy festival child, even the old man who tried to sell him the same dumb scarf every winter.
It was home.
Even if it hadn’t paid the same price.
But that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
It was what he fought for.
.
He turned a corner onto one of the quieter streets that led into the tower district when he saw her.
An elderly woman stood by a stack of tipped grocery baskets, struggling to lift a bag of daikon that was clearly too heavy for her.
“Hold on,” he said, stepping forward.
She turned, startled.
“Let me,” he added, gently taking the bag from her before she could protest.
Her arms fell in relief. “Oh, thank you, dear. These arms aren’t what they used to be.”
“No shame in that,” Izuma replied. “It’s what we shinobi are here for.”
She smiled at that, and he helped her stack everything properly before lifting the main bundle himself.
“Where to?”
“Just two houses down.”
He walked beside her, slow and steady. There was no conversation, but the silence didn’t feel awkward in the least. When they reached her steps, she unlocked the door with trembling fingers, and he placed the groceries inside.
“Thank you, dear,” she said again. “What’s your name?”
“Izuma.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh! You’re that Izuma. I’ve heard about you.”
He smiled tiredly. “Hopefully good things.”
She chuckled. “Mostly. Just don’t go burning any rivers around here.”
“No promises,” he said, and with a parting wave, kept walking.
.
He didn’t get far before two voices shouted his name.
“IZUMA!”
Two kids barreled toward him—one boy, one girl, both soon to be five. They wore matching wooden swords on their backs and beamed up at him with wide, toothy grins.
“Oh no,” he muttered, grinning anyway. “You two again.”
“You’re back!” the boy, Kento, yelled. “You said you’d show me that fire trick next time!”
“And you said you’d buy us dango!” the girl, Kanami, added, hands on her hips.
He crouched down between them. “Okay, okay. Fire tricks are dangerous, and I didn’t say when I’d buy dango. I said ‘sometime.’”
“But sometime sounds a lot like right now, right?” the boy grinned.
“Tempting,” Izuma said. “But I’ve got to check in first. Paperwork. Hokage lectures. Grown-up stuff—blegh.”
Both kids giggled in unison.
He chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Tell you what. You see me walking around again, I’ll owe you both sweets. That’s a promise.”
The girl lit up. “We’ll find you!”
He stood and saluted them with two fingers. “I bet you will.”
Their parents appeared a moment later, apologetic and flustered. The father bowed. “I’m so sorry, they just ran off—”
“They’re fine,” Izuma cut in smoothly. “Better than fine. They always give me something to smile about when I see them. And I’m sure in a few years they’ll outrun half the genin class.”
The parents smiled, grateful. The kids waved again.
And Izuma turned toward the Hokage tower, eyes drifting from storefront to storefront, all familiar, as he passed.
The smell of dango was especially strong here, and man, did it make him hungry.
As he continued down the path, people saw him, then smiled and waved—a few even called his name.
He allowed himself to smile as well.
It felt good to be home.
.
The Hokage Tower looked taller than he remembered.
Maybe it was the morning light, or maybe it was because it was his first time seeing it in months. Either way, compared to the rest of the architecture, this building stood out.
Izuma tugged his cloak as he approached the steps. The guards nodded at him as he passed—they didn’t ask for a name or paperwork, which made sense, considering this wasn’t his first visit to the tower, nor was it going to be his last.
Inside, the building was warm and filled with the constant shuffling of feet over wooden floors.
If he were being honest, the Hokage should have long installed some carpeting—the sound of civilians’ boots rattling on the ground became grating after a while. Of course, shinobi did no such thing.
Maybe when he became Hokage, he’d remodel the place—he’d tried to tell the old geezer to give the place a much-needed makeover before, but alas, his words fell on deaf ears.
Huh, perhaps age was catching up to the Hokage faster than he thought.
A cough and a window being slammed shut brought him back to reality.
He made his way to the reception desk just outside the Hokage’s personal office. The woman there—a middle-aged kunoichi, Asuka, with a pen tucked behind one ear—looked up and blinked in recognition.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the Uchiha prodigy himself.”
“The one and only.”
She smiled. “Only? You haven’t heard of Shisui Uchiha yet? Some say he’s catching up to you.”
“Pft, my little brother has a long way to go before he’s as awesome as me,” he replied.
She snorted and scribbled something into a logbook before looking up again. “I’m assuming you’re here to see the Hokage?”
“Yeah. The old geezer expecting me?”
Asuka shot him a look. “Would it kill you to show a bit more respect to the Hokage?”
“Nah—he likes being reminded of his age. Told me it keeps his head out of the clouds.”
“Laying off the pipe would do that as well,” she muttered, checking something off on a clipboard.
“Harsh.”
She ignored him, instead opting to hand a file over to a chunin who ran over, and scurried off just as quickly.
“What’s that all about?”
“Nothing much, just the upcoming Academy graduates. That reminds me, have you heard about it yet?”
“Heard what?”
“Shisui’s graduating this year.”
He paused—Shisui hadn’t told him he was graduating.
“That’s news to me,” he answered, earning a look of surprise.
“Maybe he didn’t want you worrying? You weren’t in the best place to share personal news at the time.”
Izuma hummed, unsure how to respond. Maybe she was right. Or maybe Shisui had just wanted to surprise him.
Either way, he’d find out soon enough.
“Well,” Asuka said, gesturing toward the waiting bench, “it’ll only be a few minutes now. He should just be finishing up with Minato.”
“Minato?” Izuma perked up.
She nodded. “They’ve been going over deployments.”
He sat, legs stretched, arms crossed. For a few minutes, he let his head tip back against the wall, catching a well-needed reprieve from his workload.
It didn’t last long.
A mere two minutes later, Minato Namikaze stepped out of the Hokage’s office. He looked up and smiled immediately.
“Izuma.”
Izuma stood, returning the smile. “Yellow Flash.”
Minato clasped his shoulder. “Good to see you made it back in one piece.”
“Me too.”
Minato huffed a laugh. “I heard the rumors—Red Fang, eh?”
Izuma shook his head. “I have no clue why they gave me that name, but enough about me, how’s the team?”
Minato’s expression warmed. “Good. Rin’s improving her medical ninjutsu. Kakashi’s… Kakashi.”
“And Obito?”
A flicker of amusement passed through Minato’s eyes. “He’s trying. Passed the mock exam I held. Failed at modesty.”
“Sounds like him.” Izuma chuckled. “He’s stopped shouting his attack names, though, right?”
“For the most part.”
“So he still does it when he’s trying to impress Rin,” he asked, deadpan.
Minato gave a weary nod.
“Classic.”
Minato stepped back, glancing toward the hallway. “I should let you in, the Hokage’s been busy, would hate to waste more of his time.”
He snorted. “He’s probably happy his subordinates are finally giving him time to hit a spliff.”
“He does that often?”
“Every Tuesday.”
Minato laughed again, before doing a double-take upon seeing the sky. “Well, it really is time for me to get going—I promised I’d help Kushina with something back at home. But since you’re back, swing by sometime soon for dinner. I know Kushina would be happy with that as well.”
“Thanks for the invite—I’ll see if I can come by on Wednesday. I’ll bring the two idiots as well.”
“No problem, you’re always welcome. And two idiots, really? What does that make us older folks?”
“Hey, don’t group me in with you, old man—I’m still young.”
Minato rolled his eyes.
The two exchanged a final nod before parting ways.
Once Minato left, Asuka spoke again. “You can go in. He’s waiting for you.”
“Great,” Izuma said with a sigh.
She chuckled. “Try not to antagonize him too much.”
“No promises,” Izuma muttered.
Before he could take a step forward, however, Asuka called after him again. “Tell the Hokage the Academy evaluations have to be finished by tonight.”
“I’ll pass on the message,” he said, departing with a lazy wave.
Then he pushed open the doors and stepped inside.
.
