The atmosphere in the village grew heavier with each passing day.
There were more ninjas patrolling the streets, and their footsteps were much quicker than before.
The young people wearing green vests no longer wore the relaxed expressions they once had. Instead, their faces were taut with tension.
Affected by this atmosphere, the smiles on the faces of pedestrians had also become much rarer.
The old people who usually sat in the alleys basking in the sun hardly went outside anymore. Parents warned their children not to run too far, so they could only play in front of their own homes. The shopkeepers were still open for business, but trade had clearly dwindled. The occasional customer who came in would hurry through their purchase and leave.
It had only been a few years since the end of the Third Shinobi World War, and the memories of wartime had not completely faded. Now there was movement along the borders again. Kumogakure was gathering its forces, and Konoha was also mobilizing its troops. No one knew whether fighting would break out this time, and no one knew what would happen if it did.
Genkawa Uchiha walked through the streets, but these changes did not affect him much.
He naturally knew that another clash between Konoha and Kumogakure should happen soon, but as far as he was concerned, it had nothing to do with him.
He was not a ninja. He did not have to go to the battlefield or throw his life away at the border.
Whatever. It had nothing to do with him anyway, so he could afford to be bold.
That morning, Genkawa Uchiha got up a little later than usual.
After washing up, he changed into clean clothes, dug a fishing rod out of the tool room, and found