Early the next morning, Natsuhiko woke up right on time.
Now that his biological clock was firmly set, he had no intention of changing it. Even though he had only slept for a few hours, it was more than enough for him.
Although he still believed ANBU was no place for normal people, he had to admit that his time there had brought him invaluable gains.
For example, in his previous life he had suffered from insomnia for various reasons. But after joining ANBU, he mastered a rather special ability—
As long as he wished, he could enter a state of deep sleep.
With that kind of sleep, supplemented by chakra, he only needed a small amount of rest to fully recover.
"Another rare day off begins…"
Stretching lazily, Natsuhiko walked outside.
But as he passed by the elder's wooden hut, he discreetly slipped a scroll inside before quietly leaving.
As a member of the Senju clan serving in ANBU, he was well aware of what his identity truly meant.
There was no need to avoid the truth—
He was a spy.
A spy for his clan within the village.
Every mission he carried out, every movement within ANBU—
He had to report it to the clan elder.
Natsuhiko didn't like that feeling.
But he also knew he had to do it.
Emotionally speaking, although he didn't feel a particularly strong sense of belonging to the Senju clan—
He had to admit that when he first came to this world, it was the Senju who had provided him with protection.
His foundational ninja training, and later the various ninjutsu he obtained—
All of it had been supported by the clan.
Of course, he knew very well that the clan's investment in him was only because he had shown talent. Without that talent, he wouldn't have received those resources.
But what he received, he received.
He wouldn't twist logic to justify otherwise.
Within the limits of his ability—and ensuring his own safety—
Trying to repay that debt was only natural.
Besides, if he wanted to accomplish his greater goal, consolidating the Senju clan was inevitable.
Sometimes Natsuhiko wondered—
Would it have been better to be reborn into the Uchiha clan instead? Or was the Senju clan better?
After thinking it over repeatedly, he concluded there was no good answer.
Both clans were the same in one regard—
Their strengths and weaknesses were painfully obvious.
The Senju's advantage lay in internal stability.
But their current influence was extremely weak, and their strength had diminished drastically.
The Uchiha's advantage was their remaining strong influence and considerable resources.
But internally they were divided.
Externally, they were estranged from the village.
And to make matters worse, they were constantly under the watchful gaze of Konoha's higher-ups.
To put it bluntly—
The Uchiha likely wouldn't last another seven or eight years before, just like in the original story, they were swept into the dustbin of history.
As for the Senju—
After seven or eight years, they too would lose all influence in Konoha.
Until everyone forgot them.
Until even they themselves forgot who they were.
"In simple terms… neither clan ends well."
Natsuhiko shook his head and looked mockingly at the four massive stone faces standing atop the mountain in the distance.
The two clans that had founded Konoha—
One erased by force.
The other erased by policy.
Both discarded into history's trash heap.
The irony was almost unimaginable.
If one insisted that the two clans still had some continuation, it wasn't entirely wrong—
After all, one still had Tsunade.
And the other still had Sasuke.
If you put it that way, the Uchiha clan actually came out ahead—
After all, their survivor became a savior of the world.
"But none of that really has anything to do with me. No matter which ending it is, I probably don't have much of a future in either."
Shaking his head, Natsuhiko made his way toward the training grounds.
There were many training grounds within Konoha, specifically designated for shinobi use. He had no interest in heading out to the abandoned ones in the forest.
First, they were too far away.
Second, what happened last night was still fresh in his mind. Root's current condition wasn't very stable, and those people clearly lacked discipline.
Natsuhiko didn't want trouble.
Even though he could guess that the people from last night wouldn't have a pleasant outcome, he still believed in learning from experience.
"Besides, what I'm training isn't anything too serious. Maybe I can even find a sparring partner."
With that thought, Natsuhiko soon arrived at one of the training grounds.
It had to be said—Konoha's shinobi were quite diligent.
Even though it was only around six or seven in the morning, there were already a few figures present.
Unfortunately, what disappointed Natsuhiko was that there weren't many people there.
With so few around, he couldn't find a suitable sparring partner.
"That was careless. Looks like I came too early."
Natsuhiko swept his gaze across the area, and at the same time used his sensory ability to assess the chakra of everyone present.
Based purely on chakra, none of them seemed particularly suitable.
Of course, judging strength solely by chakra wasn't ideal—Natsuhiko himself didn't possess massive chakra reserves, yet his strength had reached jōnin level.
Still, chakra was a reliable indicator of foundational ability.
Generally speaking, those with strong chakra weren't weak.
But among those present, he saw very few with impressive reserves.
Most were around chūnin level—similar to him in chakra amount—or even just genin.
From the way they trained, he could also tell their real combat ability was likely average at best.
Having constantly been in real combat situations, Natsuhiko was especially sensitive to judging an opponent's capability—particularly their fundamentals.
With a helpless shake of his head, he decided it would be better to train alone.
If he randomly picked a sparring partner, it was hard to say who would end up training whom.
"Hm?"
As Natsuhiko walked further inside, searching for a quieter spot, he unexpectedly noticed a somewhat familiar figure.
The person had long black hair, tied up high into a ponytail for training.
She wore a black fitted combat outfit, and on the back was a red-and-white emblem resembling a table tennis paddle.
Clearly—
She was from the Uchiha clan.
Natsuhiko paused when he saw her.
Then, as she casually threw a kunai, a faint trace of chakra flickering around it, he was almost certain of her identity.
If he wasn't mistaken—
This was very likely his former desk mate from years ago.
If memory served him right—
Her name was Uchiha Sora.