Village

Village

Several days later, when they met again in the somewhat deserted corridor of the Hokage Building, Itachi's gaze lingered on Shuji's face for a moment.

"Your complexion doesn't look too good, senpai," he said softly, his eyes settling on the faint bluish shade beneath Shuji's eyes.

"Yeah, training." Shuji rubbed the bridge of his nose, barely holding back a yawn. "The money's in. Let's go to Yakiniku Q and split it while we eat."

Itachi was already used to this. Before leaving, he had told his mother where he was going.

The two blended into the noisy streets at dusk, as the tempting aroma of sizzling fat gradually filled the air. Shuji walked ahead, humming an off-key tune, while Itachi quietly trailed half a step behind.

This kind of company gave him a strange sense of ease. Around Shuji, there were no appraising looks treating him like some "genius specimen," nor were there crushing expectations weighing on him. It was as if he were simply an ordinary boy.

The barbecue restaurant was full of warmth and bustle.

The slices of pork belly placed on the grill immediately began to sizzle cheerfully. Fat dripped down, sending tiny sparks flying. With quick hands, Shuji picked up a slice with lightly charred edges, still crackling with grease, coated it in dark brown sauce, and eagerly put it into his mouth.

The scalding juices mixed with the savory sauce exploded across his tongue, and the exhaustion built up from days of training seemed to be swept away by that rough, satisfying flavor.

"Whew..." He exhaled contentedly, narrowing his eyes as he picked up another perfectly grilled slice and naturally placed it on Itachi's plate. "Eat more. You're still growing."

"Are you researching a new technique, senpai?" Itachi asked, looking at the fragrant meat on his plate.

"Something like that. It's not going too smoothly." Shuji answered vaguely as he picked up another slice for himself. "What about you? What have you been practicing these past few days?"

"Taijutsu, ninjutsu, and throwing ninja tools," Itachi said, picking up his chopsticks. "With the seniors in my clan."

"Uchiha Shisui?"

Itachi's movement paused almost imperceptibly. He looked up at Shuji. "You know Shisui, senpai?"

"Other than you, the record holder for graduating in one year, he's more famous in the Uchiha clan." Shuji calmly took a sip of barley tea. "I've heard of him. Never met him."

After several rounds of meat, the emptiness in their stomachs had been replaced by solid satisfaction. Shuji wiped the corner of his mouth and got down to business. "The reward's been confirmed. That Sand shinobi's sealing scroll contained a little over ten million ryo..."

That amount of money was enough to post more than a dozen high-level A-rank missions in the Five Great Shinobi Villages. For an ordinary Chunin, he might not save up that much over his entire career.

"Senpai," Itachi said, setting down his chopsticks. His eyes were clear and focused. "Why did that Sand shinobi betray his own village?"

Shuji did not answer directly. Instead, he asked, "What do you think a village is?"

Itachi considered for a moment before giving a textbook answer. "A place where shinobi live, accept missions, and protect one another."

Shuji nodded, his gaze drifting toward the lights gradually coming on outside the window, as though piercing through the dust of time. "At first, Konoha was only a settlement jointly established after the Senju and Uchiha put aside their blood feud."

"When the two strongest clans in the Shinobi World shook hands and made peace, even becoming neighbors..." He tapped the table lightly with his chopsticks. "The other shinobi clans in the Land of Fire lost their freedom to choose. No clan could stand against the combined strength of those two great houses alone. To survive, they could only join Konoha."

Itachi unconsciously straightened his back.

The glorious history of the village's founding that he had heard in Ninja Academy classes was stripped of its idealized veneer by Shuji's calm account, exposing a cold, realistic foundation—coercion born of survival and the weighing of power.

"When the vast majority of shinobi clans in the Land of Fire gathered here,"

"This naturally became the nation's only, and strongest, military pillar. The local lords, even the Daimyo Palace, could no longer easily drive shinobi clans to slaughter one another and reap the benefits as they had during the Warring States Period."

A thick piece of meat dripped grease onto the charcoal, producing a loud hiss and sending up a puff of white smoke.

"So at first," Shuji said, withdrawing his gaze and looking at Itachi, "a village was more like a platform. A platform that allowed shinobi clans to cooperate under relatively safe rules, while also competing within those rules."

"Konoha at the time was essentially a settlement where more than a dozen shinobi clans banded together for warmth."

"Until..." Shuji's eyes sharpened. "The Senju clan voluntarily dissolved, and the village began taking in large numbers of orphans and wandering shinobi with no clan to rely on. After the Second Hokage established the Anbu..." He paused slightly, as if choosing his words. "Only then did the village truly gain a foundation of strength that belonged to itself, no longer entirely dependent on shinobi clans. That strength answered only to the village itself."

Outside the private room, the footsteps of a server carrying dishes moved from near to far, leaving behind a brief silence.

"That transformation was crucial." Shuji's voice lowered. "Shinobi clans were no longer the village's only foundation. Once the pressure of basic survival eased, the personal thoughts and ambitions that shinobi had suppressed began to emerge. And some ambitions..." He picked up his teacup and looked at the amber liquid inside. "Were destined to come into irreconcilable conflict with the collective known as the village."

Barbecue smoke curled between them, blurring their expressions.

"You said before that, to you, being a shinobi is just a job." Itachi pressed on. "Then what do you think of rogue shinobi?"

Shuji's expression remained calm. "Usually, I see them as enemies. Under the shinobi village system, shinobi are strictly restrained. They cannot attack ordinary people as they please."

He picked up a fragrant, charred piece of meat and dipped it into the sauce. "Ordinary people can farm, run shops, and live in peace. Harm is kept within certain limits. The economy can grow, life can improve, and things as good as this..." He pointed at the sizzling grill and the food covering the table. "...will only become more plentiful."

"And rogue shinobi, like that Sand shinobi," Shuji continued, changing direction, "leave their village to pursue what they believe is a better life. On the surface, that seems understandable. But in reality..." He smiled faintly, without warmth.

"This was only a Chunin who acted carefully, feared the power of the shinobi villages, and did not dare act too recklessly." Shuji looked directly into Itachi's eyes and spoke each word clearly. "If you encounter those who are even more unscrupulous, completely without limits, and treat human lives like grass..."

He paused, lifted his teacup, and took a sip. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"I want to eat a good meal in peace. If someone insists on smashing my rice bowl..." He set down the teacup, its base making a crisp sound against the table. "As long as it is within my ability, I'll stop them."

Itachi listened silently, his small fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm rim of his teacup, feeling the smooth texture of the ceramic beneath his fingertips.

"Do you think," Itachi finally asked cautiously, lowering his voice even further, "that the shinobi village system can preserve this kind of... order forever?"

Shuji looked out the window.

Night had fallen. Konoha's streets were illuminated by warm lights, outlining the silhouettes of people returning home. "No system is perfect, Itachi."

"What matters is whether it produces better results than the age that came before it. As for the shinobi village system..."

"From the perspective of ending the Warring States Period and reducing meaningless slaughter, it is indeed more competitive than the scattered rule of independent shinobi clans."

Shuji drew back his gaze and looked again at the boy across from him. "This platform called a village gives shinobi a sense of belonging they can call 'home,' reducing the endless drain of conflict between clans. But it also brings new restraints and... new contradictions."

"Under any system, there will inevitably be contradictions that cannot be completely eliminated. Conflicts between the desires of individual shinobi and the needs of the village as a whole, friction between clan traditions and the village's unified will... these are problems the village must face and cannot avoid. They need to be resolved and balanced continuously, generation after generation."

"Senpai," Itachi said, seeming to grasp something, "then within a village, should a powerful shinobi clan... inevitably not exist?"

"Not entirely." Shuji stated his view. "In fact, to a certain extent, a village needs the existence of shinobi clans."

"Especially for clans that possess unique Kekkei Genkai, the clan itself is the most effective way to protect and pass down those precious powers."

"You could even say that the existence of shinobi clans shares some of the village's burden in cultivating special talents and protecting secret techniques. To some extent, it also eases the direct conflicts that may arise between individuals with powerful bloodlines and the village's overall rules."

He picked up a lettuce leaf and wrapped it around a piece of grilled meat, his tone calm but beyond dispute. "However, a shinobi clan's power must never become too great, much less rise above the village. After all..."

"Looking at reality, among the mountains of corpses and seas of blood of the three Shinobi World Wars, many of the heroes who stepped forward to protect the village came from families without distinguished bloodlines. It was precisely because countless unknown people like them pressed forward one after another that the village could stand firm through war and endure to this day."

Itachi did not speak again.

He lowered his head and looked at the barbecue Shuji had placed on his plate. It had cooled somewhat, and the warm yellow light reflected a faint oily sheen across its surface.

Only the soft crackling of charcoal remained in the private room, along with the faint laughter and conversation drifting over from the next table.

(End of Chapter)