Chapter 2; Uchiha Shisui: "You Want to Die? Did You Ask Me First?"
---
Konoha Police Department.
The crimson-and-white fan emblem hung over the hall like a silent judge. Beneath it, rows of Uchiha shinobi filled the main chamber, their black uniforms gleaming under the lantern light. The air was thick with tension, voices low but sharp, each man and woman scanning the wooden mission board nailed to the far wall.
Among them stood a young man, not tall, not imposing, but handsome in a quietly stubborn way. Uchiha Ci craned his neck to read the scrolls pinned up, eyes flicking rapidly across the parchment.
Normally, such missions were distributed at the Hokage Building's assignment center. But the Uchiha clan had always preferred its own channels of command.
For one thing, Uchiha Ci wasn't even officially registered as a Leaf Village shinobi.
Not really.
He was something in-between—a clan shinobi, one of those countless peripheral members that the village often used as auxiliary forces during wartime. A body with a chakra signature and a convenient name to fill a casualty list.
Though he wore the same metal dog tag around his neck, it carried none of the prestige of the standard Konoha headband.
He belonged to the clan, not the Hokage.
And that meant most of the missions he could take weren't issued by the Hokage's office, but reposted internally by the Uchiha Police Force after being filtered down from above.
Domestic work. Patrols. Community requests.
Missions that were meant more to "keep them busy" than to make any difference.
But that, of course, didn't meet Uchiha Ci's expectations.
Not by a long shot.
'Damn it! Not a single mission near the border!?'
He stared at the board, dumbfounded.
At this point in time, the most dangerous areas in the world were the borderlands—especially the tension-heavy zones between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind. The Land of Rain and the Land of Valleys were veritable powder kegs, where one spark could ignite an all-out war.
And yet, on the entire board before him, there wasn't a single mission mentioning border patrols, infiltration, escorting caravans through hostile routes, or assassinating foreign officers.
Instead, all the missions were domestic.
Utterly, insultingly safe.
There were scrolls labeled:
"Locate Missing Cat,"
"Deliver Confidential Letter,"
"Assist with Harvesting,"
and "Patrol Outer Districts."
Even the highest available C-rank tasks were laughable.
The most "dangerous" one?
Driving a wild boar that had wandered out of the Forest of Death back into the forest.
"Unbelievable…" Ci muttered, clutching his forehead. "I thought once I could leave the village, I'd finally get to die—but this is no different from before!"
His expression flattened into deadpan despair. The dream of glorious cannon-fodder death was slipping further away. Still, resigned to fate, he sighed and reached for the most dangerous-looking C-rank mission scroll—the wild boar one.
Maybe, if luck smiled upon him, the boar could be convinced to trample him to death.
But before his fingers even brushed the parchment—
A hand beat him to it.
"Sorry," said a calm, youthful voice beside him. "This mission—please leave it to me."
Ci turned, blinking in disbelief.
The speaker was a clean-faced boy in a short-sleeved, high-collared black outfit and long pants. A short sword rested neatly against his back, and his dark eyes held the clear light of someone who took life far too seriously.
Uchiha Shisui.
The prodigy who, at this point in history, hadn't yet earned his fame—but already carried the quiet gravity of one destined for it.
Uchiha Ci stared, speechless.
Seriously? You're a registered Konoha shinobi—what are you doing snatching my clan-assigned mission!?
Shisui gave a polite bow, his tone perfectly earnest.
"Forgive me, Uchiha Ci. This mission will help me sharpen my swordsmanship. I can hand you the reward money afterward, but please—let me take this opportunity."
That bright, clear smile—the kind that screamed idealistic youth with main character potential—disarmed Ci instantly. He couldn't even muster irritation.
It wasn't like this was the mission of his dreams anyway.
Boar-chasing wasn't exactly a guaranteed death sentence.
He'd have far better chances once the actual war started.
He could afford to let this one go.
Still, he couldn't help but blink in mild surprise.
"You… know me?"
Of course, Ci knew Shisui—every Naruto fan would—but the other way around? That was unexpected.
Shisui chuckled lightly, improvising on the spot. "Yeah, we've done a D-rank mission together before, haven't we?"
"…Maybe," Ci muttered. He'd done so many meaningless D-rank chores he couldn't possibly keep track.
And honestly, he had no interest in befriending canon characters.
Changing fate—even slightly—could derail the timeline and doom "Prince Naruto" himself.
Then he'd be the one responsible for destroying the world.
No, thanks.
He just wanted to die and go home.
So he turned away and continued scanning the board, pretending Shisui didn't exist.
---
What Ci didn't know, however, was that Shisui had already looked up his record earlier that day.
When he saw the numbers, he was left completely speechless.
Uchiha Ci
Rank: Genin
Ninja Record: 1 year
Completed Missions:
• D-rank — 855
• C-rank — 0
Shisui's jaw had practically hit the floor.
This obscure peer of his was a mission maniac. An average of two to three D-rank missions per day, without a single day off for an entire year!
Terrifying.
Of course, if Ci knew that Shisui admired him for it, he'd probably collapse on the spot screaming, "No, damn it! I wasn't working hard—I was trying to overwork myself to death!"
But to Shisui, this kind of dedication was something sacred.
A Genin who could push himself this far—relentlessly, without complaint—was clearly someone burning with selfless resolve for the sake of the village.
In Shisui's eyes, Uchiha Ci wasn't ordinary.
He was an unsung hero.
So when Ci ignored him, Shisui wasn't offended. Instead, he simply stepped closer, determination shining in his eyes.
Until their shoulders were almost touching.
Ci's body stiffened. "Wh–what the hell are you doing!?"
Wasn't Shisui supposed to be a bright, honorable prodigy? Why was he acting so… suspiciously close?
Shisui, misreading his reaction entirely, gave a small, understanding smile. He leaned in, his tone low but earnest.
"Ci-kun… I know what you're thinking."
Uchiha Ci froze, blood draining from his face.
What!? You know I'm trying to scam the cosmic insurance company!?
Shisui's gaze turned solemn.
"Later, during the clan meeting, the Great Elder will announce two extremely dangerous missions. But don't worry—I won't let you take them."
That whisper carried all the intensity of a death sentence.
Ci blinked in horror, instinctively stepping back.
What the hell is this guy, a psychic?
Is he trying to steal my payout?!
Still, the phrase "two dangerous missions" made his ears perk up immediately. His survival instincts (or rather, his death instincts) kicked in.
"What missions?" he asked in a hushed voice, eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. From a distance, the two of them probably looked like shady dealers making an under-the-table trade.
Shisui's breath caught. "Just as I thought—you really are that kind of person…"
He stared at Ci with new admiration.
To him, that hushed curiosity wasn't about suicidal recklessness—it was about bravery.
Conviction.
The heart of a true Uchiha willing to sacrifice himself for the village.
In that moment, Shisui's respect for Ci deepened to near reverence.
This man, he thought passionately, could be the bridge between the Uchiha and Konoha!
---
A sudden shift in the atmosphere silenced the hall. The air turned heavy.
A tall figure stepped onto the raised platform at the front of the room.
Grey hair, sharp and spiked like steel.
Half his face hidden behind a cold, metallic mask. A black, high-collared robe with the Uchiha crest emblazoned on the back.
His gaze was piercing—sharp as a hawk's—and few dared to meet it.
Uchiha Ci's stomach dropped.
Because he recognized that man immediately.
Uchiha Setsuna.
The clan's last surviving Great Elder.
A relic from another era—one who had dared to plot the assassination of the Second Hokage and lived to tell the tale.
To the Uchiha, he was both legend and warning. A ghost that refused to die.
Every eye turned toward him.
Some filled with respect.
Some with resentment.
And some with quiet, simmering indifference.
Setsuna raised a hand for silence.
His voice carried through the hall, calm but chilling.
"You should already have some idea why you've been summoned here," he began, each word deliberate.
"That's right— War… is about to begin."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Since the disappearance of the Third Kazekage," Setsuna continued, "the balance of the shinobi world has begun to crumble."
"Along the Fire Country's borders, skirmishes grow by the day. Small-scale battles have already erupted in the Land of Rain. Beyond that, Iwagakure and Kirigakure teeter on the brink of full-scale conflict. And those savages from Kumogakure… continue testing our defenses near the Land of Rice Fields."
He paused.
"The entire shinobi world will soon be engulfed in the flames of war."
Then, his tone hardened into steel.
"But the Uchiha have survived a thousand years of blood and fire. Do not tremble before these petty threats!"
He scanned the hall.
"Two fronts require immediate reinforcement: the Land of Rain battlefield and the Hell Valley outpost in the Land of Hot Water."
"Each team will consist of one jōnin, one chūnin, and one genin. Two teams total."
"Genin are not required to volunteer. Jōnin and chūnin may decide for themselves."
He let the words hang for a long, cold moment.
"If, by the deadline, there are not enough names—"
He smiled faintly, a razor's edge in that expression.
"—I will personally choose who goes."
The hall fell utterly silent.
At the mention of those two places, every shinobi's face tightened. A few even turned pale. The Land of Rain and Hell Valley were known death traps—the kind of fronts from which only ashes returned.
Ci's pulse quickened. This was it. The chance he'd been waiting for!
His body tensed, ready to leap up and declare:
> "To restore the Uchiha's glory, I shall not hesitate to bleed for Konoha!"
But just as he inhaled to shout, something flickered across his vision. His head throbbed sharply, his entire body trembling.
And then—
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
> [Talent Delivered.]
[Heart of Steel (SSS): "Please, let me be tough… one more time!" — 'Steel Gate']
A deafening clang! rang in his skull, like a hammer striking an anvil. His body jolted.
But as soon as he processed the name of the talent, Uchiha Ci's expression collapsed.
"...Oh, for f*ck's sake," he whispered.
His heart sank like a stone.