Chapter 25

"Captain, you needn't blame yourself. This situation isn't your fault alone." Saitama could see that Fugaku was taking all the responsibility onto himself.

"Right now, every major clan in Konoha has a place to stand. Only the Uchiha have been pushed to the margins. This so-called Security Force is nothing but a name."

"In peacetime, the Security Force is no different from a bunch of gatekeepers. When danger strikes, ANBU takes command of everything, and we can only lend a hand. This Security Force is a complete joke—nothing more than consolation handed down by the higher-ups!" The more Fugaku spoke, the more agitated he became, his right hand unconsciously clenching into a fist.

"I understand the clan's predicament." Saitama understood the Uchiha Clan's future even better than Fugaku did—within a few years, after the Nine-Tails' Rebellion, the clan would fall completely into the abyss.

"The road ahead... no one can say for sure." After speaking his mind, Fugaku seemed to relax a little and leaned back in his chair.

"No matter what, we swear to stand with the clan through thick and thin!" Saitama nodded solemnly, leaning forward slightly.

"With young people like you, gifted and responsible in equal measure, I'm very gratified as clan head." Fugaku rested both hands on his knees, his tone growing more cheerful.

"Itachi! Why are you sneaking around over there? Come here!"

"I'm coming!" Itachi poked his little head out from beside the door, still clutching ** in his arms.

He skipped into the room, leaned close to Fugaku's ear to whisper something, then slipped away like the wind.

Fugaku's expression remained unchanged—what Itachi had said was, "I'll always support Dad too!"

"Let's eat!" Fugaku put away the osmanthus cakes on the table, then rose and led Saitama toward the dining room.

As expected of a prestigious clan—the residence was truly grand.

"So you're Saitama? Please, have a seat!" Following the way in, Saitama entered the dining room and saw Mikoto Uchiha arranging the dishes, while Itachi bustled back and forth on his short little legs to help.

"Hello, Auntie!" Saitama was completely at ease upon meeting Mikoto for the first time.

"Hello!" Mikoto set a dish on the table, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and replied gently.

"Don't be so formal. Make yourself at home," Fugaku said with a wave.

The four of them sat down to eat. Though the table was set for four, it was piled high with sumptuous dishes: fresh shrimp, fish, and all kinds of vegetables.

"Auntie, your cooking is amazing!" Saitama gave a thumbs-up after finishing a shrimp as long as his arm.

"Then eat more if you like it."

"Will do!"

Saitama did not stand on ceremony—chances to enjoy such a feast did not come often.

Fugaku and Mikoto exchanged speechless looks, while Itachi held the last shrimp in his hand, utterly at a loss.

The table looked as if it had been swept by a storm. More than half the dishes had gone into Saitama's stomach.

"Haha, that was satisfying!" Saitama patted his round belly, looking as comfortable as though he were eating at home.

"Uh... haha!" Fugaku laughed awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. How could he have expected this child's appetite? Fortunately, he had specially prepared extra food for their guest today.

"Saitama, would you like some more dishes?" Mikoto was also a little dazed. Her husband had only said that a seven-year-old subordinate was visiting. To show the stature of the clan head's household, she had deliberately made extra—yet it had nearly not been enough?

When she looked at her son, she saw Itachi holding his shrimp **, unsure whether to eat it or put it down.

"No, I'm stuffed already! But these shrimp were really delicious. Thank you for the meal!" Saitama poked at a shrimp shell, savoring the memory. Their tender texture rivaled the Australian lobsters he had tasted in his previous life.

"Haha!" Fugaku laughed awkwardly again and lowered his head to shovel rice into his mouth.

"Big Brother Saitama, do you want this?" Itachi held out the shrimp, his little face showing a hint of reluctance.

This big brother who had given him a ninja sword seemed especially fond of shrimp, so Itachi decided to part with his favorite.

"Oh, no need. Big Brother's really full!" Saitama's ears burned as he hurriedly refused.

"Okay then!" Seeing Saitama's firm attitude, Itachi happily pulled the shrimp back and carefully divided it into several portions, placing them in his parents' bowls.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Mikoto's eyes curved like crescents.

Watching the warm family of three before him, Saitama could not help smiling. So this was what it felt like for a family to sit around a table and eat together—so warm and comforting.

"Saitama, come to my office tomorrow." Fugaku set down his bowl and chopsticks. "I have a mission for you. At present, apart from Sen, you're the only one in the clan who can take it on—Shisui is still lacking."

Fugaku saw Saitama off at the entrance. Young Itachi stood close beside his father, one little hand gripping Fugaku's pant leg.

"Understood, Captain! I've rested long enough. It's about time I went on a mission." Saitama readily agreed. He understood the wartime system—every major clan had to complete an assigned number of missions to support the war effort. Though the Land of Fire's daimyo would provide military funding, more resources were always better.

Judging by Fugaku's grave expression, this mission was probably not simple.

"I'm off, Captain! Bye, little Itachi!" Saitama crouched and ruffled Itachi's hair. This time, the boy obediently let him do it. After saying goodbye, Saitama's figure vanished at the end of the street.

"Bye, Big Brother Saitama!" Itachi waved as he bounced in place, a smile spreading across his round face. Though this big brother always liked ruffling his hair, he did not dislike him.

Fugaku watched Saitama leave, a deep thought passing through his eyes. As he led his son back inside, he watched the withered leaves drifting down over the clan grounds, as though he could see the Uchiha Clan's wavering future.

These exceptionally gifted young people had to grow up as quickly as possible...

Fugaku's gaze fell on carefree Itachi at his side, and he clenched his fists.

"Then I'll hold up this sky for now," he murmured. "Someone has to bear this burden."

The midday sun shone over the training grounds. Having just finished eating, Saitama headed straight there to train.

"Saitama!" Nagisa jogged over. "Can you explain the nature transformation of Wind Release chakra again?" This rare Uchiha user of Wind Release showed none of his usual arrogance at the moment.

"Huh? Didn't someone say I was talking nonsense last time?" Saitama raised an eyebrow.

Nagisa's face instantly flushed red. When he had first heard that Wind Release could be trained with nothing more than a leaf, he had indeed dismissed it with scorn—after all, he had never seen Saitama use Wind Release ninjutsu. Yet after trying it last night, he had actually found the knack.

"I was wrong, okay?" Nagisa pressed his palms together. "Please teach me some more advanced techniques!"

"That depends on how you perform in actual combat later." Saitama looked around the empty training grounds. Seeing no sign of Shisui, a sly curve formed at his lips. "But... you want me to go easy on you, right?"

"Don't worry, I'll be very gentle!" Saitama thumped his chest in assurance, grabbed Nagisa, and dragged him toward a secluded corner of the training grounds.

"Ow!" "Bang!"

"Thud!" "Wah!"

"Crash! Bang! Smack!"

From deep within the training grounds came a steady stream of impacts, drawing knowing looks from the guard squad members next door, along with a trace of envy—after all, none of the people here even qualified to serve as Saitama's punching bag.

By now, Saitama had become the benchmark of strength in the guard squad. Only those who could withstand his beating counted as qualified members. All dozen or so of them knew how Saitama had grown, and they had recently heard of his ferocious battlefield performance. Naturally, no one considered it shameful to take him as a goal.

"I can't... I really can't!" Nagisa blocked Saitama's sweeping kick, then dropped to one knee, panting like a bellows, his entire body smeared with sweat and mud.

"Tch!" Saitama let out a breath and hauled him upright. "You're done already, and I haven't even used ninjutsu? Are you even a man?" He deliberately pinched his voice as he teased him. Only around his companions would he reveal this punchable side of himself.

"Hmph!" Nagisa turned his face away and grimaced as he rubbed his aching muscles.

"That's enough!" Saitama turned toward the weapon rack, where his long sword lay quietly. He had spent the entire afternoon tempering his taijutsu. He had used neither magic nor his sword, and had not even activated his Sharingan.

"Um... Saitama..." Nagisa followed close behind him, rubbing his hands together like a child begging for candy.

"Catch!" Saitama pulled a scroll from his back pocket and tossed it over. Inside were training notes he had compiled from the insights of two lifetimes.

"Whoa! Thanks!" Nagisa caught it in a fluster, his eyes going round. He had only hoped to receive a few verbal pointers.

"What? I didn't hear you." Saitama deliberately dug at his ear, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you!" Nagisa repeated more loudly, his ears reddening.

"Don't get all mushy!" Saitama punched his shoulder and strode away. After taking a few steps, he turned back and blinked. "It suits you well, right?"

Nagisa stood there clutching the scroll, watching that swaying figure retreat. He had even forgotten the pain of his bruises.

"What ** soup did you feed Nagisa?" The moment Saitama turned the corner, Sen blocked his path with suspicion written all over his face.

"What's that got to do with me? Maybe some sand got in his eyes." Saitama shrugged with a playful grin.

"Quit fooling around. I need to talk to you about something serious!" Sen glanced at Nagisa, who was still standing there in a daze, then grabbed Saitama and pulled him away.

The two found a quiet corner and sat side by side on a long wooden bench. Their sweat had not yet dried after training, and Saitama casually leaned against the backrest.

"Shisui ran into trouble." Sen stared at Saitama's face, trying to detect some reaction.

Saitama did not move a muscle, still lounging lazily against the bench.

"You're pretty calm about this." Sen was somewhat disappointed. He had come all this way specifically to see Saitama's expression change.

"If something had really happened, you'd have jumped up already." Saitama did not even raise his eyelids.

"Tch, putting on an act!" Sen curled his lip.

"Tell me the details." Saitama shifted into a more comfortable position.

"He was ambushed while carrying out a mission, but thankfully it was a close call and nothing more." Sen summed it up in a few words.

"That's it?" Saitama raised an eyebrow.

"His eyes awakened." Sen suddenly lowered his voice. "At seven years old..."

"Interesting." Saitama finally perked up, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest.

"Like you, he has two tomoe." Sen studied Saitama meaningfully.

"Good. Now we can have a proper spar." Saitama swung his legs, looking completely unconcerned.

"How boring. I'm going back to work on the wedding." Sen stood and dusted off his pants.

After Sen had walked away, a dark glint rose in Saitama's eyes.

"Awakening the Sharingan at seven... he really is a genius." He rubbed his knuckles. "Now this is getting interesting."

"Sharingan combined with the Body Flicker Technique..." Saitama suddenly slapped the bench and stood. "Time to go see this kid."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah. You all carry on."

Saitama stood at the hospital room doorway carrying a fruit basket. Shisui's clear, hearty laughter drifted out from inside.

Shisui was in good condition. He had only been sent back to the village because he had fallen unconscious. The only reason he was still in the hospital room now was because Doctor Sen insisted on running more tests before allowing him to leave.

Saitama peeled an apple and slowly munched on it as he prepared to leave the hospital. There was nothing to worry about with Shisui, so he could head home for dinner without concern.

"All right, Saitama, you go back first. I'll definitely be discharged tomorrow." Shisui sat cross-legged on the hospital bed and smiled at the distracted Saitama.

Shisui's mother was the one caring for him at the hospital, though she had probably gone out to buy him food at the moment.

"Okay. Give my regards to your mother. I'm heading out." Saitama had come without fuss and left just as neatly, waving once before turning away.

"Granny, what are we having tonight?" The moment he stepped through the front door, a rich aroma rushed over him, and Saitama could not help taking a deep breath. This was exactly why he came home on time every day for dinner.

"Saitama, you're back? Hurry and sit down! Granny bought some top-quality hot pot base today. It'll definitely taste great!" Granny Xiang poked her silver-haired head out of the kitchen, her face brimming with joy.

"Great!" At the mention of hot pot, Saitama immediately perked up. On a cold night, only hot pot made by Granny herself could warm him to the core!

The weather was getting colder and colder. Although Konoha had not seen snow this year, the chill cut to the bone. Sitting around the table with Granny Xiang and eating steaming hot pot, Saitama felt that life was complete, without a single regret.

Late at night, Saitama studied ninjutsu upstairs until midnight, yet he could still hear faint sounds coming from downstairs—Granny Xiang seemed not to have gone to sleep yet.

He did not disturb her. The elderly woman's sleep had become increasingly light, and ever since he had officially become a ninja, every time he left the village for a mission was an ordeal for Granny Xiang.

Though Granny never showed it, every time he returned safely, Saitama could clearly see the heartfelt joy in her eyes.

But that was simply the ninja world. Once one chose this path, there was no room for regret.