Chapter 23

"Since Obito wants to eat here, let's give it a try. It's been ages since I had grilled meat." Rin Nohara looked at Obito with a hint of helplessness in her eyes.

"Rin, you're the best! Yeah!" Obito cheered, pumping his fist with a smug grin.

"..." Kakashi muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, he sensed someone watching him and turned toward the restaurant. Three ninjas in similar black uniforms sat at a table. The tall ninja with his back to Kakashi bore the Uchiha clan crest on his back. The owner of that gaze—a young ninja—was smiling faintly at him.

Saitama nodded at Kakashi in greeting, his eyes filled with appreciation. This genius ninja was indeed worth watching.

Kakashi froze for a moment before nodding slowly. He did not know Saitama, but he could sense the other's goodwill.

"What is it, Kakashi? Did you run into someone you know?" Minato Namikaze followed Kakashi's gaze to Saitama's table and spotted Uchiha Mori.

"Minato Namikaze, what a coincidence." Uchiha Mori noticed the gaze from behind him, turned around, and saw Minato Namikaze standing at the entrance.

"Let's go in together." Minato Namikaze stepped into the restaurant.

"Mori, you're here too." Minato Namikaze approached with his usual gentle smile.

As fellow Konoha jonin, Uchiha Mori and Minato Namikaze naturally knew each other and had interacted often.

"The grilled meat here is quite good. You should try it," Mori said, leaning back in his chair and turning sideways.

"We definitely will." Minato Namikaze nodded, then politely smiled at Saitama and Shisui.

Feeling the warmth in Minato Namikaze's smile, Saitama could not help but take a liking to him.

"Hello, Minato Namikaze!" Shisui immediately rose and bowed. He had long heard of this jonin of civilian birth and deeply admired him, unable to hide his excitement now.

"Hello." Shisui's enthusiasm made Minato Namikaze a little embarrassed, and he quickly waved in response.

"Sit over here, close to Mori and the others." Minato Namikaze turned back and gestured for Kakashi's group to take the neighboring table.

"Lord Mori!" Obito came over to greet him. As an Uchiha clansman, he knew that Mori was an important assistant to the clan head and possessed exceptional strength. As for Saitama and Shisui, he did not know them well.

"Mm, hello." Mori nodded, vaguely recalling that this young man had been promoted to chunin not long ago.

Rin curiously observed Saitama's table. Her instincts told her that the ninja with a sword at his feet was very strong. He looks even younger than us?

"Boss, thirty plates of meat!" The instant he sat down, Obito impatiently shouted.

"Right away!" The owner hurried toward the kitchen.

"Let's keep eating. You don't often find grilled meat this delicious." Saitama withdrew his gaze and pulled Shisui back into his seat.

Minato Namikaze smiled, returned to his own table, and did not continue the conversation.

"Sensei, who are they?" Rin asked softly, her eyes full of curiosity. Kakashi quietly pricked up his ears as well, while Obito only stared eagerly toward the kitchen.

"That's Uchiha Mori, an elite jonin of the Uchiha clan. I'm not very familiar with the other two. They're probably young clansmen Mori is looking after, and they seem quite capable," Minato Namikaze said, then nodded amiably toward Saitama's table.

Recently, Saitama's appetite had been astonishing. Of the fifty plates of grilled meat, he finished nearly thirty by himself, making the people at the next table glance over repeatedly.

Fortunately, Shisui had ordered fifty plates. Otherwise, there would not have been nearly enough for the three of them.

After eating his fill, Saitama sipped the complimentary cold tea and leisurely leaned back in his seat.

"Minato Namikaze, we'll be taking our leave first," Mori said as he rose.

"Alright, you go ahead. We'll be eating a while longer." Minato Namikaze set down his bamboo chopsticks and looked up with a smile.

"Wow! That was delicious!" Obito let out a satisfied groan, and Kakashi quietly shifted farther away.

"Kakashi, how about sparring another day?" As he passed their table, the sword at Saitama's waist swayed lightly as he extended the invitation to Kakashi.

Kakashi paused, raised his eyes, and nodded calmly. Though he did not know Saitama's true strength, he felt no fear; his response was merely courtesy.

"Let's go, Shisui!" Shisui was paying at the counter, and his money pouch seemed to have run dry.

As he followed Mori out of the barbecue restaurant, Shisui, having paid the bill, nodded again toward Minato Namikaze's table before hurrying after them.

"Wait for me, Saitama!"

"Shisui... Saitama?" Minato Namikaze fell into thought. Those two names sounded familiar. He recalled that they were genius ninjas who had graduated in the same year as Kakashi.

He continued eating gracefully, his refined manner as elegant as if he were reading poetry and classics.

"Saitama, what did you think?" Mori casually asked on their way back.

"You mean Kakashi? He's certainly good, but he still lacks experience." Saitama knew exactly what he meant and answered honestly. After all, he had already killed nearly enough jonin on the battlefield to fill one hand. Kakashi, who was only a chunin now, naturally did not amount to much in his eyes.

"Oh? Don't underestimate the name of a genius." Mori chuckled teasingly as he strolled along.

"Is Saitama already that strong?" Shisui could not help interjecting. He only knew the surface of Saitama's achievements, and Saitama himself had never gone into detail.

"So-so." Saitama waved a hand as he walked between them.

Shisui tilted his head and studied the two of them, but ultimately did not press further.

"Let's go back and train some more. The New Year is approaching, and it's about time we prepared to take missions." Saitama's tone was casual as his figure gradually receded.

"Alright!" Shisui replied. Mori stood silently to one side.

At the training grounds, the members of the guard unit were having lunch. The clan's food was particularly plentiful today, with generous portions of large cuts of meat, though the taste still could not compare to the barbecue restaurant.

Saitama sat on a bench and chatted with the guard unit members for a while before dragging Shisui toward the innermost training ground.

"Lord Hokage, an urgent report from the Sand Village front!"

Inside the Hokage's office, a ninja wearing a beast-patterned mask presented a scroll before Hiruzen Sarutobi's desk.

"Hmm." The Third shook the ash from his pipe and narrowed his eyes as he opened the battle report. This document, sent directly by Orochimaru, corroborated his own intelligence channels.

As he read further, the furrows between the old man's brows deepened.

"You may leave." Hiruzen Sarutobi dismissed the waiting ANBU, unconsciously rubbing his pipe with his fingertips.

"Slaughtered several jonin! Fought many alone! An Uchiha clansman! Two-Tomoe Sharingan! Only seven years old!" The key phrases in the report rang sharply in his mind. "Could this Uchiha named Saitama be the child who applied for early graduation at the beginning of the year? There also seemed to be another Uchiha at the time..." The sound of his pipe tapping against the desk echoed through the silent office.

The earlier battle reports had only mentioned Orochimaru and Rasa both being severely wounded, leaving the Sand Village front deadlocked. Yet this document before him was filled with praise for Uchiha Saitama's battlefield performance.

"Why does it have to be the Uchiha..." The Third set down his pipe and rubbed his temples before picking up another scroll—the deployment list for the Hidden Mist front submitted by Uchiha Fugaku. Under pressure from the council of elders, the Uchiha had actually mobilized nearly two-thirds of their clan's strength this time, over one hundred and fifty ninjas in total.

As the old man lowered his eyes to inspect the list, the office's wooden door suddenly flew open. An elderly man wrapped in bloodstained bandages barged in, leaning on a cane. The tap of his wooden prosthetic limb against the floor was especially grating.

"Hiruzen!" Danzo strode straight toward the desk.

A flash of anger crossed the Third's eyes. He leaned back against his chair and took a deep draw from his pipe. "Mind your position, Danzo."

"The Uchiha deployment list..." Danzo pressed both hands on his snake-headed cane, his single eye visible through the gaps in his bandages.

"This is the Hokage's office." Hiruzen Sarutobi gripped his pipe until his knuckles turned white. The man's overbearing conduct made veins bulge at his temples.

"...I merely need to confirm the contents of the list." Danzo finally lowered his head, fine beads of sweat seeping out along the edges of his bandages.

"Hmph!" The Third flung the list from the desk and continued smoking, wisps of blue smoke gradually veiling his face.

Danzo caught the list steadily. His blade-like gaze swept over the page before quickly settling on one name—Uchiha Saitama.

"This person must join Root." Danzo's voice struck like iron against stone.

The Third exhaled a ring of smoke, deep furrows carved between his brows. "Absurd! You know his background."

"So what if he's an Uchiha?" Danzo rapped his knuckles against the list with a dull thud. "Root needs this bloodline. You've seen his talent report. I have even more detailed records."

"The clan will not give him up." The Third picked up another scroll, a clear gesture of dismissal.

A cold glint flashed in Danzo's lone eye. If the open road was blocked, there were still hidden paths. He had always excelled at honing sharp weapons into tools fit for his hand.

The sound of his cane echoed through the corridor as old injuries gnawed at his bones in the winter chill. It is time to set that plan in motion, he thought, touching the bandages over his right eye.

The setting sun stretched their intertwined shadows long. Saitama sheathed his sword, while Shisui braced his hands on his knees and panted, sweat darkening the ground beneath him.

"I'm off." Saitama waved a hand, his black robes brushing past the training hall's threshold.

As dusk soaked the streets, Saitama suddenly turned into a dead-end alley. A cold wind swept fallen leaves into circles at the foot of the walls.

"Come out." His thumb rested against the sword guard as chakra surged through his meridians like molten lava.

A masked man seeped out from the brick wall, like a drop of ink spreading across rice paper.

"As expected, you live up to my lord's expectations." The hoarse voice carried praise of unclear intent.

"Were you sent by the Third, or are you Danzo's man?" Saitama narrowed his eyes at him. The outfit clearly belonged to either the ANBU or Root.

Judging by that tone, he's most likely one of Danzo's lackeys, he mused, though his expression remained calm.

"Who might you be?" Saitama feigned confusion, revealing no sign that he had already seen through the man's origins.

"Uchiha Saitama, I have come under Root's orders." The Root ninja straightened his back, his tone carrying a condescending arrogance. "A certain lord wishes to invite you to join us."

"Root?" Saitama pretended not to understand.

"Precisely, the Root of Konoha!" The man nodded solemnly. "You can think of it as a reserve force for the ANBU. Though closely connected to the ANBU, it exists independently. The ANBU answers directly to the Hokage."

"So the Hokage sent you?" Saitama continued playing dumb.

"You will learn that naturally once you join." The Root ninja avoided the question, fixing him with a hooked gaze. "What do you say?"

"Heh." Saitama suddenly laughed, finding this man's way of thinking truly peculiar.

Whoosh! Before the words had faded, Saitama vanished from the man's sight.

"What?!" The Root ninja's pupils contracted sharply, and every muscle in his body tightened in an instant.

"Don't move." An icy blade point pressed against his lower back, cold sweat sliding down his spine. In that instant, he had completely failed to catch Saitama's movements.

A faint electric current pierced through his clothes and entered his body, leaving him stiff as a puppet.

"I don't trust ninjas who hide their faces, especially those who do not even dare show their real ones." Saitama's breath brushed past the man's ear, and his chilling tone triggered an instinctive shudder. "Go tell your master—I'm not interested."

Saitama sheathed his sword, leaped down from the wall, and headed home without looking back.

"Phew..." The Root ninja let out a long breath, the tremor of brushing against death still lingering. Before that boy, he had been completely unable to resist.

Enduring the numbness in his back, he watched Saitama's retreating figure disappear around the alley's exit, gritted his teeth, and crushed the ** in his hand.

"Interesting, at least." After turning the street corner, Saitama gave a soft snort and put the matter out of his mind.

Improving one's strength would naturally attract certain people's attention, but Uchiha Saitama was no longer an ordinary clansman anyone could manipulate at will.

Strength was what truly mattered—he looked at the streets as their lights began to glow, cooking smoke and laughter mingling in the twilight. So long as he was strong enough, even this village's peaceful scene felt especially real.

At dinnertime, the entire house was filled with the fragrance of fish soup. Granny Xiang ladled every bit of the fresh fish she had bought at a high price from the market into Saitama's bowl. Ever since tensions rose with the Land of Water, fish prices had soared, and she could not even bear to drink a mouthful of the soup herself.

Uchiha Kaori's cooking was indeed superb. The fish soup was fresh and delicious, and the fish melted in his mouth, though Saitama could not tell what kind of fish he was eating.

"Granny, I'm done." Saitama swallowed the last piece of fish in his bowl, finished the soup, and smiled at Uchiha Kaori as though showing off his appetite.