How to Survive as an Uchiha

After finishing his tasks, Masashi returned to the palace just in time to see Shisui walking out of the palace gates. Let's get this verification over with.

The two looked at each other with their Sharingan activated. Even among clan members, protocol had to be followed.

When members of a team separated, there was always a risk of an enemy using a transformation jutsu to sneak in, so for the Uchiha and Hyūga clans, it was convenient to just use their eye techniques to check.

Once they were both sure the other wasn't an imposter, they deactivated their Sharingan.

"Waiting for me?"

"No… I just got here myself, but it's the last stop anyway." Shisui glanced back at the palace gate and sighed. "Even though I was mentally prepared, the daimyō's palace is just way too complicated."

"It's certainly complex." Masashi looked up. Though he came from a world filled with skyscrapers, the architecture still surprised him.

Like the buildings, this palace fortress also has a spire structure on its top floor. The palace towers were especially large, tall, and numerous.

These tall towers were the daimyō family's ancestral mausoleum. The nobility of the Land of Rain didn't practice burial. Instead, they prepared the bodies of their family members and placed them in these towers.

It was said that Ame did the same.

Efficient use of vertical space, at least.

"Let's go see the daimyō. We can compare notes about the issues we've found afterward."

"Are there many issues in the outer district?"

"More than enough. It's practically a disaster for our mission." And that's just what's visible on the surface.

Masashi tapped the palace gate with his hand, his fingers detecting the subtle vibrations in the structure.

"Why are you knocking on the door?"

"Oh, nothing. Just checking if it's sturdy."

"Oh…" Though Shisui found this a bit odd, he didn't dwell on it and went through the gate with Masashi.

The two made their way back to the hall where they'd previously met the daimyō. Inside, they saw the him discussing governmental matters with a few bureaucrats.

This hall was mainly where the daimyō heard reports from his bureaucrats, its high ceiling designed to amplify the authority of his position.

The two entered quietly, leaning against a wall to wait, their presence acknowledged only by slight shifts in the guards' stances.

The daimyō was talking with the officials about how to ensure food production. From their conversation, it was clear that the food supply depended on a few large-scale farms.

In recent days, however, there had been several incidents. One farm had even experienced a land collapse.

"The Land of Fire provided a lot of tools this time," reported one official. "With the growing number of unemployed people in the outer district, organizing them to develop a new farm would be ideal."

"No." The daimyō rejected the suggestion without hesitation, his small eyes narrowing further. "The final planting season has already passed this year. Even if we set up a new farm, it won't be usable until next year. Starting construction now would consume more food, leaving us short on supplies."

"But the Land of Fire has also provided a lot of food this time…"

"Store it," the daimyō replied. "Keep it as a reserve for year-end, and after the next harvest, we'll consider building a new farm. As for the unemployed…"

He thought for a moment and continued, "You mentioned the sanitary conditions in the outer district are poor, right? Organize them to clean up. No wages, just meals."

"Daimyō-sama, wouldn't that still make food supplies tight?"

"Make the porridge thinner. Do I really need to teach you that?"

"With such thin porridge, they might harbor resentment…"

"Oh? They've been drinking water and eating grass every day, and now they'll resent a bowl of porridge? I don't think so."

He understands fear better than governance. Almost admirable, in a twisted way.

The daimyō's personality here was entirely in line with Masashi's assessment of him. He accepted none of his officials' advice, shooting down each suggestion quickly with phrases like "I refuse," "I don't think so," or "You can be quiet now."

Honestly, it was impossible that every suggestion had no merit. But it was not about merit. It was about control.

However, although the daimyō denied all their suggestions, he did issue clear directives for the work ahead. By the end, everyone's stomach was growling.

"I can tell you all came just to freeload… fine, a few more mouths won't hurt." The daimyō, also hungry, noted the hopeful looks of his officials and wasn't stingy. "Send word to set up a banquet tonight. I'll entertain the two shinobi guests properly."

Shisui's first instinct was to decline, but then they met the daimyō's expectant gaze, as if waiting for them to offer more advice. 

So he kept silent.

The officials left with smiles, and the daimyō, too, returned to his relaxed, idle manner, sitting back and addressing Masashi and Shisui lazily. "Do you two need anything else? Oh, right, choose any room you like, and if you're looking for female company, there are still some around the palace, though married ones are off-limits."

"…"

This boss was much more impressive while working. Dealing with clients like this was truly exhausting.

"Daimyō-sama, may I check your body?" Masashi interrupted him before he could resume chatting.

"Huh?" The daimyō was confused, visibly trying to open his small eyes a bit wider to show it.

"You are not allowed to approach the daimyō." One of the daimyō's bodyguards spoke stiffly, stepping forward. "It is my duty to protect the daimyō. Although I apologize, I must ask that you focus only on your assigned task."

But Masashi wasn't so courteous with him.

He used a genjutsu, his red eyes briefly intensifying. The guard's resistance crumbled as his consciousness fell into an illusion of duty fulfilled. He obediently moved aside, crouching awkwardly in the corner.

The daimyō looked at his bodyguard, frowning.

It wasn't that he minded Masashi's behavior; he just wondered if his bodyguard's mind was broken.

If you were competent, would I have needed to ask for ninja protection?

Unaware of the daimyō's thoughts, Masashi, after incapacitating the guard, didn't immediately approach. Instead, he explained, "Daimyō-sama, this is for your safety. There are techniques in the shinobi world that allow for assassination without face-to-face confrontation. I strongly recommend you consider this risk."

"That sounds very dangerous! Outrageous. Please, check me immediately." The daimyō swiftly accepted Masashi's suggestion, his previous laziness forgotten. "Next time, let's skip the hassle. Don't judge by appearances; I'm actually an open-minded daimyō, very receptive to advice."

Masashi pretended not to hear that last part and approached to thoroughly inspect the daimyō with his Sharingan, checking for any signs of jutsu. His eyes traced every potential point of interference.

Upon finishing, he confirmed there was no issue and reassured the daimyō.

At the same time, he left a small mark. Just as he had in other places before. 

"I'll take second watch," Masashi said as the protection mission for him and Shisui officially began. "Better coverage with my sensory jutsu at night."

And less interaction with the client, he added silently.

The two essentially worked in shifts, one visible and the other hidden, to protect the daimyō, who spent his days causing trouble and his evenings lazing around.

Masashi had strategically positioned his surveillance points throughout the compound, creating an invisible net of chakra-infused markers.

They even had a resting place set up right next door to the daimyō's quarters, though Masashi made sure to position himself where he could observe without unnecessary social interaction.

The first month passed peacefully, with only minor disturbances cropping up now and then.

For instance, a group of rogue ninjas appeared on a farm, attempting to steal food supplies. It so happened that Shisui was accompanying the daimyō to check on the situation. He then flashed through his Body Flicker. Starting as one, he split into over ten, while the rogue ninjas totaled fewer than five.

Unsurprisingly, they were wiped out in one go.

It all happened so fast that the daimyō didn't even have time to finish yawning.

"Is it always this quick with you shinobi?" the daimyō asked, stifling another yawn.

"Konoha values efficiency, daimyō-sama," Shisui replied with a polite bow.

Another time, an actual ninja managed to sneak into the village—a rogue ninja from Ame.

Unluckily for him, he bumped into Masashi, who was on a patrol. The poor soul was promptly immobilized by his genjutsu. Let's see what information you're carrying, Masashi thought as he methodically began his interrogation.

"Where are your companions?" he asked, adjusting the genjutsu's pressure.

"N-no one... I'm alone..." the ninja gasped.

"Your supply routes? Contact points?"

After extracting all the information, which confirmed he was just a small fry who had snuck in looking for food, Masashi killed him. Considering that he died still under genjutsu, it could even be counted as a merciful death.

And so the first month passed in relative peace.

In the second month, Shisui's messenger crow arrived with a letter from Itachi, informing him that Mikoto was pregnant. Shisui happily shared the news with Masashi, who took a moment to process it.

"Isn't it wonderful? Another addition to the clan!" Shisui beamed.

"Your enthusiasm for other people's family matters is puzzling," Masashi replied flatly.

"You really need to work on your social skills, Masashi-nii," Shisui chuckled.

He couldn't understand why Shisui was so excited about someone else's wife being pregnant, when they could be spending their time eating delicious food at the daimyō's expense.

But such leisurely days didn't last forever.

Toward the end of the second month, a large portion of the sensory markers Masashi had set around the outer district were suddenly destroyed—not triggered, but obliterated.

These markers were actually a type of water jutsu Masashi had developed, inspired by both Kiri's techniques and the Rainmaker Jutsu of Nagato.

This jutsu was a high-level application of shape transformation, creating tiny, biting water-sharks hidden within the flowing water. When an opponent struck the water pillar, the small sharks dispersed with the water and attacked them.

Each shark carried a trace of his chakra, allowing him to sense disturbances across vast distances. Using this principle, Masashi had developed a sensory jutsu.

It seemed the intruder had used a powerful Fire Release technique to evaporate the chakra-infused water. Not just any fire technique could manage this, Masashi noted. This is someone who knows what they're doing.

Clearly, the intruder not only sensed his jutsu but expressed hostility as well.

Masashi, who was in the middle of escorting the daimyō during a meal along with Shisui, stopped mid-step.

"Is something wrong?"

"There is a powerful chakra presence," Masashi replied, deciding to investigate. "Shisui, keep an eye on the daimyō."

"Want me to check it out instead?"

"No. Stay with the daimyō."

With that, he left the palace and headed toward the disturbance.

While environmental factors weren't absolute, they could often influence the chakra nature local shinobi excel at. Among the Five Great Nations, Earth, Lightning, and Water all exhibit this.

In the Land of Rain, most native shinobi have water-based chakra, with very few wielding fire chakra. Which made the visitor even more interesting.

And based on the chakra Masashi sensed, the intruder was at least a jonin.

As he leapt between the towers, his Sharingan locked onto the target—a cloaked figure. Something about it seems familiar.

The figure turned away the moment he sensed Masashi's gaze, quickly sprinting toward the village outskirts.

It wasn't just hostility; this was a direct provocation.

Masashi pursued him, mapping out possible intercept points as they moved.

After two months here, the entire village was practically mapped in his mind. There was no way to ambush him here—just as in Konoha, where no one could set a trap for him.

Well, except for that one bug in Konoha.

Despite his self-assured demeanor, he wasn't exactly careless. At least, in his view, he was never reckless.

However, after the experience of being beaten to death in his first run, he now preferred to leave himself with multiple escape routes in this second run-through.

Because, regardless of how many lives you might have, getting beaten to death still hurts.

The village quickly disappeared behind him, but the distance was manageable. After a long chase, the enemy suddenly stopped.

Masashi recognized the location.

"You were the one watching that day," he said, observing the hillside from afar, confirming his earlier suspicions. This theatrical approach... how tedious.

A voice responded from beneath the hood.

"Are you Masashi?"

The cloaked figure's words were intentionally muffled as he kept his back turned.

The whole act reminded Masashi of shows he'd seen too many times to count. Had it been anyone else, he would have fired off a water jutsu already.

But not this time. Because this voice...

The figure finally turned, and his suspicions were confirmed.

With such an ugly mask, it had to be Obito—the same mask he had stubbornly worn for over ten years.

Just as Masashi was about to speak, another figure with a black and white face emerged from the ground beside Obito.

"Madara-sama, is there something special about this kid?"

Masashi stared at Zetsu unblinkingly.

When someone you've dreamed of confronting suddenly appears, how would a connoisseur of food approach it?

It was a tough question.

"What are you looking at, kid?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just thought you looked like a half-moon cookie that went wrong," Masashi said, raising an eyebrow. "You know—the black and white ones? Though usually they're split more evenly."

Zetsu was taken aback. In his memory, this was not a typical Uchiha reaction.

After all, hadn't he just mentioned that name? Where was the shocked response?

Puzzled, he glanced at the other Uchiha beside him. To be honest, this one didn't feel very Uchiha-like either.

Could it be that this generation of Uchiha had shifted somehow?

"Don't play dumb, kid," Obito finally turned, still hiding his hands behind his back, striking another pose. "I am Uchiha Madara. You should know that name."

He activated his Mangekyō Sharingan for emphasis. Through the mask's eyehole, Masashi saw the distinct pattern of Obito's Sharingan.

Then he couldn't help but laugh.

It was hard not to. Anyone who'd read even a little should know better, he thought. Amateur theatrics. At least put some effort into the research.

He should be able to see through Obito's ruse, especially being from the Uchiha clan.

"Enough with the nonsense. Madara's eyes didn't look like that at all; it's recorded in the clan archives," Masashi said. "Plus, he had the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, with the pattern shared with his brother Izuna's."

"So unprofessional."

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