How to Survive as an Uchiha

"Rai!" Kumika called out, looking at the spot where her companion had disappeared. As she shouted his name, she leaped back decisively, turning toward the edge of the boundary to escape the waters.

Forgive me, Rai. But someone has to complete the mission.

This team was gone; she could find another. But if she herself was gone, then everything was over.

"You really are heartless, aren't you?" The water rippled as Masashi emerged, blocking her path. "At least check if they're alive before you leave."

Without a word, Kumika flicked a few shuriken at him, their paths intersecting to cover multiple angles of approach. Decent technique, but too straightforward for a supposed jonin, Masashi noted as he deflected them with a small blade.

She charged at him, brandishing her sword. Lightning crackled along the blade.

With a flick of his fingers, a water spike shot up, piercing through her abdomen, but instead of blood, her figure exploded into a cloud of mist.

Kumika emerged from his side and thrust her sword into his ribs, lightning chakra crackling violently as it connected. But before she could follow up, Masashi's body burst apart into water, and an intense, freezing blast turned her into an ice sculpture. The next moment, flames flared, and a stronger force shattered the ice from within.

"You're still better than most," he said, emerging from another spot on the water's surface. His scarlet eyes watched Kumika's figure as she sprinted away.

In an instant, a blade of water rose beneath her, slicing her into segments, but again, it was only a clone.

"What's the point? You can't fool me," he turned around, looking at the real Kumika as she glared at him intently. Through his Sharingan, he could see her chakra network fluctuating. "You know the gap between us isn't small."

"Yes, Konoha really is full of monsters," Kumika sneered, her fingers tightening around her blade. Her eyes darted briefly to the treeline, calculating escape routes. "So many monsters, and yet none of them fight each other."

Kumo must suspect something about our village dynamics. "Trying to be nice by not killing you, and you insult me instead."

"Nice? If you're hoping for information, forget it. I'm still a jonin, and if you try to take me back alive, Konoha had better be ready to go to war with Kumo."

"Typical Kumo ninja, always resorting to threats of war," Masashi's eyes held a hint of disdain, which he made sure Kumika saw.

"The five great villages have the same ranking system. You're only a special jonin at best, so your formal rank is still chunin. Your actions don't officially represent your village."

Kumika's expression darkened. Got her. The rank is always a sore spot with these special jonin.

"So, I guessed right." Masashi said. "Whoever organized this 'test' didn't do a good job—your intel has been completely intercepted."

"What do you want?"

"As a Kumo ninja, you're now worthless. Captured chunin can either die or become traitors. If you don't want to die and don't want your own village to deal with you, then your only option is to come with me to Konoha."

"So, what do you say? Trade the information you know for a new identity?"

Masashi observed her with interest as she visibly hesitated. Through his Sharingan, he could see the subtle fluctuations in her chakra. She's weighing survival against loyalty. Classic dilemma for captured nin.

As he'd noted, these so-called Kumo jonin were only just meeting the chakra requirement for jonin level under his Sharingan's perception; they were novice, special jonin.

Nowadays, all the ninja villages had modeled their rank definitions after Konoha's system.

A civilian who could handle chakra and master the Clone Technique qualified for entry into the Academy. Graduating from the Academy made one a genin, the only way to reach that rank.

Genin could become chunin by passing the chunin exams or through direct promotion by the village leader.

But above chunin, whether special jonin or jonin, only the village leader could promote someone directly.

Thus, becoming a jonin wasn't about skill but about being recognized by the village leader, whether for good or bad reasons. But one thing was certain—a jonin possessed valuable intel.

"Being promoted by the Raikage shows you have ambition. If I'm not wrong, you crave power, don't you?" Masashi decided to stoke the flames.

If I'm wrong, I can just get rid of her.

"Konoha is far more generous than Kumo in that regard. Without the feudal clans, as long as you earn enough merit, even the Scroll of Seals under the Hokage's direct watch is accessible."

Her chakra just spiked. The promise of power always works. He watched as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"It's just 'suitable techniques' chosen for us. You think I haven't seen it before?" Kumika shot back suddenly.

But it was clear her tone had changed. The edge of desperation had been replaced by poorly concealed interest.

"If you're worthy of looking at the book, the Hokage will let you pick freely. Just be sure you can master it. The current Fourth Hokage was a civilian who learned the Flying Thunder God, one of the strongest jutsu in the scroll," Masashi responded calmly. "So, have you decided?"

The negotiation is almost complete, he thought, noting how her defensive posture had subtly relaxed.

"If you're lying to me, believe me, I'll find a way to destroy the data my village has embedded in my mind. You won't get anything."

"If I were going to lie, it wouldn't be about information," Masashi replied, satisfied. He was a loyal ninja, dedicated to his village.

This woman would keep the Hokage's office busy for a while, and at least the intelligence division in Root would have a new project. It would also distract the old man, who couldn't stand Masashi's clan, from stirring up trouble.

With this information, Konoha could prepare for Kumo's moves, Root would stay occupied, and he'd get a boost in income—benefiting both public and private interests.

And, he'd saved a stray Kumo ninja to boot. It was a win-win.

I really am the best at this. I should reward myself with some ramen, he thought with satisfaction.

"Wait here," he said happily, preparing to dive again. His movement made Kumika tense up.

"What are you doing?"

Is there no goodness left in the world? She really didn't trust him.

For the money, Masashi decided to endure her suspicions.

"Don't worry, I'm just retrieving the enemy's head. Can't add a bounty without it," he replied.

"With me here, you're still thinking about bounty money?" Kumika realized she needed to reevaluate this man.

"Ninja work for money. No bounty means no food. Unless you're offering to support me?"

"No, you come up, I'll go down," Kumika released the chakra from her feet and dived into the water first.

Half-submerged in the water, Masashi had an odd feeling about her comment. He remained alert, sensing movements in the water.

After a short while, Kumika resurfaced.

But Masashi didn't see what he expected.

"The heads?"

"No need for heads, just this," Kumika raised her arms, showing a headband in each hand. "As for intel, I'm the lead here. Having me is enough."

"Now there's some humanity," Masashi mused, accepting her answer after a moment.

---

Early the next morning, Masashi woke the daimyō's group who had spent a comfortable night.

The four shadow clones left at the camp also dispelled the barrier they'd maintained throughout the night. The feedback of chakra usage from his clones told him they'd used exactly the right amount—no waste, no shortage.

The convoy was already used to waking up surrounded by the crimson barrier. They'd only been amazed by it on the first night.

Ninjas were so common in this world that ordinary people are quite numb to ninjutsu. They saw it so often that unless they wanted to be a ninja themselves, they were not curious to learn about it.

For them, ninjutsu was just another flashy trick. At least that made Masashi's job simpler. No need to explain the complexities of chakra control to people who just wanted to see the light show.

The veteran ninjas from each village knew this well. During their regular interactions with clients, the best jutsu wasn't necessarily the most useful one but rather the most visually impressive.

Using the A-rank Shadow Clone with elemental transformation has less impact than simply launching a C-rank Great Fireball.

The client's feedback on a mission was critical, as it directly affected the village's commission.

These days, Masashi's favorite jutsu to boost his evaluations was the Four Crimson Ray Formation. Cautious by nature, he appreciated both the visual effects and the power of this A-rank jutsu.

Bringing along the headbands of fallen foes and a captive, he first visited the daimyō to explain the events of the previous night.

When dealing with clients, it was essential to communicate promptly. In this world, power structures were refreshingly simple. No hidden corporate games, just clear hierarchies based on rank and strength.

Honestly, clients in this world were much easier to deal with than back on Earth. In business, sometimes you think you were the client, but you were the supplier, and vice versa.

After being jerked around a few times, young Masashi came to a realization.

If someone said the hardest things with the kindest tone, they were most likely the true client with all the power. Conversely, those who said the softest things in the harshest tone were definitely the powerless supplier.

In the ninja world, the former was usually a jonin, while the latter were all genin.

This was why a genin can only make fifty thousand ryō per mission at best, while jonin missions started at one hundred fifty thousand, with no upper limit based on the mission content.

Leaving Kumika outside the tent, Masashi stepped inside, where the daimyō was watching his son reluctantly eat an egg and drink a large bowl of milk, saying, "Otherwise, you won't grow tall."

"Oh, Masashi, you worked hard last night," the daimyō greeted him warmly, while his son continued to look sullenly at his bowl of milk.

Perfect balance of humility and competence needed here. So tiring. "It was nothing. I'm more concerned if we disturbed your rest," Masashi replied with a smile. "However, I do need to report something to you."

"No need for such formalities. You're too polite," the daimyō waved it off, signaling him to sit. "Have you eaten? Join us, we can chat over breakfast; there's no rush."

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have eaten alone, but this matter from last night is fairly important," Masashi said, knowing the daimyō invited him every morning, though he'd never stayed.

"Does it require a change in route? Don't worry about it; make any arrangements you need," the daimyō reassured him, though privately he noted something.

This young man always claimed to have eaten, but he actually lived on soldier pills three times a day. Ninja life didn't seem easy. He'd have to mention this in a letter to the Hokage to ensure this young man got better allowances.

You're truly outstanding for your age, and easy to get along with, the daimyō thought, admiring the recommendation made by the Hokage.

"As for the route, that's settled. The other issue is that the attackers last night were from Kumo. Do you have any insights on this?" Masashi handed the daimyō a Kumo headband.

Of course, whether he knew or not, this was a way to ask for extra compensation.

"Kumo ninja?" The daimyō's face shifted as he looked at the headband. "That's unexpected. Don't worry; I'll write a letter to the Hokage on this matter for you to take back."

"It's no trouble at all," Masashi said, pleased. The daimyō was trustworthy and prompt about paying extra; he liked that very much and would give him a discount next time.

"Also, I captured one of them last night. She's agreed to switch sides, and I plan to take her along."

"What?" The daimyō was surprised. "A Kumo ninja willing to defect?"

In his experience, Kumo's ninjas were all notoriously stubborn. But this solid reputation also meant they were known to see a mission through to the end once it was accepted.

"She might have information useful to the village. I thought it might be useful if you met her, in case there's anything you want to clarify."

"Good thinking."

The daimyō thought highly of Masashi's careful approach, much unlike the complacency of some ninjas by the end of a mission. "Yes, bring her in. I'm curious about who hired Kumo ninjas against me."

"Kumika, come in," Masashi called out.

The kunoichi entered, lifting the tent flap. Her movements were controlled, but Masashi could see the tension in her shoulders.

At the sight of her, the daimyō's eyes widened.

"Masashi," he asked the Uchiha with a hint of envy, "Did you search her properly?"

Kumika frowned at this. One of these days, she'd make sure the first thing anyone saw was her strength, not whether she had weapons.

Signaling her to stop, Masashi activated his Sharingan and rechecked her thoroughly before letting go. "You know what to say and what not to. Don't waste this chance."

"I know better than you do," Kumika replied curtly. "And I don't need to hide things there, so stop wasting time with pointless checks."

"As long as you know," Masashi said, releasing his chakra, then nodded to the daimyō and left the tent to join the head of security outside.

"Masashi-sama, is it really safe?" The head of security looked concerned. "After all, this woman came here to assassinate the daimyō."

"It's fine. At this distance, there's nothing she can do," Masashi reassured him, thinking highly of the diligent head of security. A guard who actually guards—refreshing.

He respected people with a serious attitude toward their work.

"But…" The head of security felt uneasy but didn't want to barge in since his employer hadn't called him.

"Are you familiar with the Transcription Seal?" Masashi asked to ease his concerns. "It's a unique jutsu of our clan. We can seal a pre-set jutsu in our or another's eyes, activating it under certain conditions."

"Jutsu can work that way?" the head of security asked with both awe and envy. "The Uchihas truly are impressive."

"Of course, after all, I am a jonin." And that's all you need to know about the real control measures in place.