A Game in the Shadows

Five days.

His shuriken accuracy had gone from ten meters to thirty.

His hand-to-hand combat had evolved from "dodging after getting hit" to "actively creating openings to attack."

The precognition of Observation Haki, combined with the foundation of his enhanced physique, had accelerated his progress so much that even he found it unreal.

But Minato was faster.

Every time he landed a hit, the same move would never touch Minato again. Once, Yan used Observation Haki to predict three-tenths of a second in advance that Minato would cut in low from the right. He deliberately left an opening and waited for him to take the bait, only for Minato to forcefully change direction at the instant before throwing his kick and drive an elbow into Yan's ribs. It hurt so badly that Yan nearly turned elemental on the spot.

A genius was a genius.

Sparring with someone like that was genuinely exhilarating, but the pressure was just as real.

Even more terrifying was the guy's ability to learn. Yan had taught him how to "catch the signs"—to observe the subtle changes in an opponent's shoulders, center of gravity, and breathing rhythm before they attacked. An ordinary person would need months to build that into muscle memory.

Minato took three days.

During their sparring session on the third day, Yan could clearly feel that Minato's dodges had started to carry the flavor of "reading ahead." It was still crude, nowhere near the cheat-level precision of Observation Haki, but for a twelve-year-old to accomplish that with nothing but his eyes and instincts—

Yan silently gave him a label in his heart: humanoid cheat code.

"Oh, right." Minato panted as he leaned against a dead tree trunk, then suddenly slapped his forehead. "Look."

Yan raised his eyes.

A leaf was stuck to Minato's forehead, utterly motionless.

"How long has it been there?"

"Since I got up this morning. Eating, class, sparring—it hasn't fallen off all day."

He had completed Jiraiya's test on the eighth day.

Yan silently gave him a rating.

Freak.

A real freak.

When Jiraiya gave him this test, he had probably intended it as a threshold that would take at least a month to cross. Yet the future Fourth Hokage had handed in his answer in eight days.

"Time to go find him."

Minato's eyes lit up, blue as two flawless starstones.

"You're coming with me?"

"No. Go by yourself."

Minato's expression visibly dimmed for a moment. His mouth opened as though he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it in the end. He had gradually learned not to question Yan's inexplicable insistences—though it was clearly difficult for him every time.

Yan would not tell him the reason.

Letting Minato naturally become Jiraiya's student, then naturally mention, "I have a friend," was a hundred times safer than Yan approaching him himself. The more deliberate it was, the more suspicious it became. The more casual it seemed, the more genuine it felt.

Manipulating social connections was something he had learned in his previous life while forming cliques at work. The only difference was that in his past life, he had formed cliques to avoid getting fired. In this life, it was to avoid getting killed.

Different nature, same craft.

The next evening.

Yan's ramshackle door was slapped so hard it nearly fell apart.

The force was so great that a layer of dust shook loose from the door, settling into his freshly washed hair.

"Yan!! Lord Jiraiya agreed to teach me!!"

When Minato rushed in, his entire body was glowing—not metaphorically. His chakra was overflowing from sheer excitement, actually casting a faint blue-white glow through the dim little house.

Yan leaned against the wall and brushed the dust from his hair.

"...Can't you knock like a normal person?"

"I did knock!"

"That was smashing. Smash it one more time and the door is done for. Then you can block the wind for me tonight."

"Okay, okay, sorry!" Minato grinned sheepishly and scratched his head, then plopped down on the floor across from Yan. His long legs stretched out so far that they nearly kicked Yan's feet. "Guess what Lord Jiraiya said?"

"He said you're exceptionally talented, a once-in-a-century genius?"

"Pretty much! He said my talent for chakra control was the best he'd ever seen in a twelve-year-old!" There was no pride on Minato's face when he said it, only the pure joy of being acknowledged. That expression was so clean, so pure, that Yan felt as though someone had suddenly pressed a warm towel against the heart that society had battered in his previous life.

"He asked about you too."

Yan's eyelid twitched slightly.

"What did he ask?"

"He asked if you were from the Uchiha clan. I said yes." Minato tilted his head as he recalled it. "Then his expression changed—how do I put it? It was like... he was still smiling, but his eyes suddenly got really serious."

"What did he say?"

"Just three words—'Interesting.'"

Yan relaxed inwardly.

The seed had taken root.

Who was Jiraiya? One of the Sannin, one of the intelligence kingpins of the shinobi world, the bearer of the Great Toad Sage's prophecy. Him saying "Interesting" meant that he had not only remembered Yan's name, but had also marked him in his mind as someone worth watching.

That was enough.

Yan did not need Jiraiya to take him seriously right now. He only needed to leave that seed there. As Minato grew stronger and the bond between master and student deepened, the value of the identity "Minato's best friend" would rise accordingly.

When that time came, if Danzo wanted to touch him, he would have to consider who stood behind him.

"He also said he'd treat me to ramen someday!"

"Don't eat too much. He looks rich, but he's actually broke as hell."

"One of the Sannin can be poor?"

"You'll find out eventually."

Not only was he broke, he was also a pervert who wrote pornographic novels. But Yan could not say that now, lest he pollute this golden, sparkling genius brain.

The second layer of protection had officially begun to take root.

Sixth day. After school.

The setting sun dyed Konoha's streets orange-red. An old woman selling dango was packing up her stall, while two children chased a fat cat through an alley.

The years were peaceful.

Yan walked with both hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried.

He had deliberately avoided the main road today.

Not to shake the ANBU—their surveillance pattern was something he had already figured out. Those people only watched and never acted, basically a "Third Hokage-brand dashcam." There was no harm in letting them stay.

He had taken a narrow alley near the clan compound. It was dark, with the old walls of Uchiha residences on both sides, and only a thin strip of sky visible overhead.

The instant he stepped into the alley entrance, Observation Haki lit up red.

Forty meters ahead.

Two presences.

Adults. They were not hiding themselves, simply standing there in plain sight.

But they were not Uchiha.

Their aura signatures were too familiar—that "blankness" created by deliberately flattening emotional fluctuations. Like a hard drive that had been formatted.

Root.

Root again.

Yan's steps slowed by half a beat.

Not because he was nervous. He needed half a second to adjust his expression—from "a transmigrator with deep schemes" to "a somewhat frightened twelve-year-old orphan pretending not to be afraid."

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an Uchiha clansman in the distance at the alley entrance.

It was the watcher Fugaku had assigned.

Their gazes met briefly.

Yan withdrew his eyes and continued forward.

Two men dressed as civilians blocked the middle of the alley.

One was thin, the other burly.

The thin one looked to be just over thirty. His face was so ordinary that he would disappear into a crowd, and a smile practiced a hundred times hung from the corners of his lips. The burly one was older, standing silently at his side like a wall that could not speak.

The standard arrangement: one played good cop while the other applied pressure.

The HR department at his company had done the same thing when persuading employees to resign in his previous life—one smiling face talked about feelings, while the stern one talked about rules.

Heh.

The tall, thin man spoke first.

"Yan-kun, it's been a long time."

His tone was gentle to the extreme, like a distant uncle concerned for a younger relative.

"Your tutor has had important matters to attend to recently, so your extracurricular instruction was suspended for a while. We've kept you waiting."

Yan lowered his head, putting on the awkwardness a young boy should have when facing unfamiliar adults.

"No... I haven't waited long."

"Your tutor has always been thinking of you." The thin man took a step closer, stopping roughly three meters from Yan. "He has prepared a special training plan for you—several levels above the Ninja Academy curriculum. As long as you are willing to cooperate—"

He paused, and his smile deepened.

"—we can help lift the restrictions your clan has placed on you."

Restrictions.

They knew about Fugaku's arrangements.

They knew Fugaku had told Yan not to display his abilities in front of outsiders. They knew Fugaku had told him not to answer questions when people from the village came looking for him.

They might even know that Fugaku had arranged for someone to teach Yan the basics of Fire Release.

Danzo's intelligence network had indeed infiltrated the Uchiha from within.

Yan's heart sank, but his face merely showed hesitation—the kind an orphan should have when faced with an adult's promise, wanting to draw close yet still afraid.

"The clan head said I shouldn't have too much contact with outsiders..."

"The clan head is naturally acting for your own good." The thin man's smile did not change, but his speech quickened ever so slightly—he was trying to steal Yan's time to think.

"But Yan-kun also knows—Uchiha protection comes with conditions."

There it was.

Yan marked those words in his heart.

First layer: establish trust. "Your tutor has been thinking of you." "He prepared a training plan for you."

Second layer: undermine his sense of security. "The clan's protection comes with conditions."

Next should be the third layer—