Because of the presence of the wounded and orphans, the evacuation team's pace was slower than when Akira and his teammates were moving on their own. The added responsibility of protecting the vulnerable made every step more careful, more measured. It was a burden that weighed heavily on everyone's shoulders.
After several long days filled with exhaustion, tension, and vigilance, Akira finally returned to the familiar gates of Konoha Village. The moment his eyes fell upon the village's towering walls and fluttering banners, he felt a surreal wave of emotion surge through him—like stepping from a battlefield into a dream.
This time, the return was different.
Last time he came back, he hadn't truly experienced the horrors of combat. But now, after surviving real battles and feeling the sting of death brush past him again and again, his return to the village felt like crossing into another world. The taut strings of his nerves, stretched tight for so long, finally loosened. His breath slowed. His heartbeat calmed.
Even the strongest, most resilient shinobi needs a safe place to breathe. A sanctuary.
Without one, even the toughest mind will eventually crack.
After bidding farewell to his teammates, Akira planned to head straight home for some much-needed rest. His body ached, and all he could think about was sinking into his bed and forgetting the world for a while.
But just as he turned onto the path that led to his home, two masked figures dropped silently from the rooftops in front of him. Dressed in the standard dark gear of Konoha's ANBU, their masks were cold and emotionless.
"Uchiha Akira, come with us. Danzo-sama wants to see you."
Their tone wasn't a request—it was an order.
Akira sighed and blinked at them slowly, clearly annoyed. He yawned, staring at the pair with tired eyes. He was in no mood for games.
Danzo again? Seriously? I've just returned from hell, and this old fossil wants a meeting? Now?
He considered refusing on the spot. But then he noticed something curious. The hands of the two ANBU were trembling slightly. Sweat beaded along the edges of their gloves. They were nervous—nervous because of him.
Yet, despite their fear, their fingers subtly edged toward their weapon pouches. The implication was clear: if he refused, they'd try to restrain him.
Akira didn't need a conflict in the middle of the village. Sighing again, he made a quick calculation. Going along with them would be less trouble than making a scene. He could always pretend to be cooperative.
Danzo was probably going to question him about Uchiha Kawa—again. Akira had already decided to answer with a simple, repeated refrain:
"I don't know."
And so, without resistance, he allowed the masked ANBU to blindfold him, a standard procedure to preserve the secrecy of Root's hidden base.
The journey was silent. The air around Root was colder, staler—as if the very atmosphere had learned to keep secrets.
When the blindfold came off, he stood before Danzo. The old war hawk's face was as grim and calculating as ever.
And, just as Akira had predicted, the interrogation began.
"Why did Uchiha Kawa defect?"
"I don't know."
"How did he awaken his Mangekyo Sharingan?"
"I don't know."
"Do you know where he is now?"
"I don't know."
Danzo's visible eye narrowed with suspicion, but even he couldn't deny the logic behind Akira's answers. At the time of Kawa's defection, Akira had only recently enrolled in the Ninja Academy. It would have been impossible for him to be privy to the inner workings of a seasoned shinobi's decisions or secrets.
Still, Danzo wasn't finished.
This meeting wasn't just about questioning. It was a recruitment attempt.
With a voice laced in false warmth, Danzo began his pitch:
"Uchiha Akira, with your remarkable talent, Root could offer you training far beyond what the standard academy can provide. You could master forbidden techniques, secrets of Konoha passed down through generations. Join us, and I will personally ensure your potential is fully realized."
Akira almost laughed. So this is it. Can't kill me, so now you want to own me?
He knew Danzo had tried to orchestrate his death more than once—during his mission to return the antidote from Sunagakure, among others. But Akira had survived every attempt with a mix of instinct, strength, and sheer will.
Now, Danzo was shifting tactics. But Akira wasn't naive.
Feigning distraction, he looked around lazily and then blinked.
"Hmm? What did Danzo-sama say? I wasn't listening. Could you repeat that?"
Danzo's eye twitched, but he repeated the offer.
Akira replied with mock sincerity, "Oh, Root is part of ANBU, right? I'm not really interested in ANBU. I mean, have you seen those masks? Like the guys who brought me here—always wearing them. It's tragic, really. I'm way too handsome to hide this face behind a mask."
He even picked his nose for emphasis, a casual show of disdain.
Danzo smiled tightly, still trying to maintain the illusion of patience.
But nothing he said after that worked. Akira continued to reject every offer, every temptation, with sarcasm and disinterest. Inside, he scoffed at Danzo's weak attempts at manipulation. You're not even close to Orochimaru's level, and even he can't control me.
When Danzo pressed harder, Akira simply yawned and stood up.
"In short, I'm not interested. I just came back from a brutal mission, and I'm dead tired. I'm going home to sleep. Please excuse me, Danzo-sama. Thanks, but no thanks."
With a flash of hand seals, Akira vanished using the Flying Thunder God Technique, reappearing instantly in the entryway of his home.
Danzo could only watch the space where Akira had stood moments before, stunned.
"Has his Flying Thunder God reached that level already?" he muttered.
Even though it wasn't during combat, Danzo knew his reflexes weren't slow. And yet, Akira had vanished before he could even react.
A threat like that couldn't be underestimated. If they ever came into direct conflict, Danzo would need more than just tricks to bring Akira down.
Back home, Akira flicked on the lights and looked around. Dust clung to everything, undisturbed for days. With a sigh, he summoned several shadow clones and began cleaning. The task was finished in mere minutes.
As he dropped the last rag and moved toward his bedroom, the doorbell rang.
"MMP… who the hell is it now?" Akira growled.
Stomping downstairs, still half-ready to fight, he flung the door open. But when he saw who stood there, his demeanor instantly shifted.
"Clan leader-sama!" Akira exclaimed in surprise. "What brings you here? Please, come in!"
Standing at the doorway was none other than Uchiha Fugaku.
Akira stepped aside quickly, respectfully ushering him into his home.