A full month slipped by in what felt like a blink. During that time, Uchiha Souji's wounds healed slowly—not because they were severe, but because no medical ninjas were assigned to treat him directly. Medical ninjutsu was expensive, and Souji strongly suspected that Fugaku simply didn't want to pay the outrageous treatment fees demanded by Konoha's hospital staff. Those quack doctors were infamous for charging like noble clans while delivering results worse than a first-year medic student.
Still, youth was a powerful medicine.
And one month was more than enough time for his body to recover.
On this morning, Souji neatly folded the quilt on his bed, picked up the clean Third Academy uniform Shisui had delivered yesterday, and stood in front of the mirror. After fixing his collar and straightening his clothes with a cold expression, he stepped out of the house.
But outside…
Nothing had changed.
In fact, everything had gotten worse.
Over the past month, the villagers' discussions about him had increased instead of fading. Everywhere he went, people whispered. Mothers nudged their children to look at him. Young ninjas watched him with awe. Civilians stared as though a future Hokage was passing by.
At this rate, he might wake up tomorrow and find a statue of himself installed next to the Hokage Rock.
Because of him, the Uchiha clan was treated like it was celebrating a major festival every day. Fugaku walked around the clan compound with the confidence of a man who had personally saved Konoha. Even the elders' eternally cranky expressions had softened.
Everything seemed to be moving in a "good" direction.
A wide, shining road was laid out for Souji.
Graduate from the academy.
Become Kakashi's personal disciple.
Enter Anbu as the Hokage's direct subordinate.
Gain prestige, power, and influence.
Then… become the Fifth Hokage, marry Lady Tsunade, and live the dream.
It was a perfect path.
A perfect lie.
Souji knew the truth far too well. As a transmigrator, he understood this world with frightening clarity.
Ninjas weren't heroes.
They were mercenaries—soldiers who killed on command.
Their hands were stained with blood that could never be washed off.
And the higher you climbed in this world, the darker it became.
Becoming Hokage looked beautiful from the outside, but the road was filled with corpses, betrayal, manipulation, and enemies that could flatten mountains. Who would want that responsibility? Who would willingly walk into the jaws of death?
Certainly not him.
Especially when the path ended with Ōtsutsuki monsters descending from the sky like final bosses who regarded Hokage-level shinobi as insects.
No, thank you.
He was a time traveler. He came here to enjoy life, not to die for the plot. Why fight cosmic aliens when Naruto Uzumaki was contractually obligated by destiny to handle all that?
The ideal life was simple:
Move to the Land of Fire's countryside.
Build a comfortable house.
Marry three wives and four concubines.
Grow vegetables.
Drink tea.
And let Naruto deal with Ōtsutsuki and world-ending threats.
That was the correct path.
So after thinking seriously for an entire month, Souji reached a conclusion:
Running away was the only way to survive.
But to escape Konoha someday, he needed to break free from the "future Hokage" image that had attached itself to him like a curse. He needed to pull himself down from the pedestal everyone was placing him on.
He needed to form his own group—
a team strong enough to shift public opinion, create distractions, and help him fade back into being just an ordinary Uchiha boy.
It was time to build his own influence.
Souji walked through the streets, deep in thought, when…
"Master Souji!"
"Good morning, Souji-sama! I brought fruit from my home—please take some!"
"Souji-sama, your recovery looks wonderful!"
Every word of praise stabbed him like a kunai.
Each "Souji-sama" felt like another rope tying him to Konoha.
He forced himself to smile, despite wanting to scream.
"Hello… thank you…"
After all, politeness from his past life was deeply ingrained. And these people were civilians—they had no real power, no ability to shape the political landscape. Their praise was harmless… yet painful.
Soon, Souji reached the border between Konoha and the Uchiha district. The difference was striking. Thanks to Shimura Danzō's manipulations, the Uchiha clan land was deliberately positioned in a remote, underdeveloped area. Villagers jokingly called it "Konoha Suburb."
The scenery went from bustling, to empty, to bustling again as he walked.
Here, on the deserted dirt road, Souji suddenly stopped.
He turned around.
"Come out," he said flatly. "You've been following me all the way. If you don't show yourself, I'm going into the clan compound."
He had felt the gaze for a long time—weak, sloppy, untrained. Definitely not Anbu. Definitely not Root. Those people trained to erase their presence completely.
The leaves rustled.
A white-haired young man in a dark hood dropped down from a tree, carrying a giant shuriken on his back and wearing a Chūnin vest. His expression was gloomy, rebellious, and far from friendly.
Souji squinted.
The man looked familiar somehow.
"How did you survive Orochimaru-sama?!"
Ah.
Souji immediately recognized him.
Mizuki.
The same Mizuki who would one day trick Naruto into stealing the Scroll of Sealing.
The same Mizuki who would end up beaten into a pig-headed lump by Naruto in the anime.
So this fool had come to settle accounts with him?
Souji smirked.
"Hm~ who knows? Maybe Orochimaru felt a little unwell that day and decided to leave me alone."
He tapped his chin, observing Mizuki with interest.
The more he looked, the more he liked what he saw.
Mizuki was not particularly strong.
His talent was average.
His moral bottom line was non-existent.
He admired Orochimaru.
He held grudges.
He looked villainous.
And most importantly—
Mizuki was manipulative enough to trick Naruto.
Sure, Naruto was easy to fool. But the people in Konoha weren't much brighter. Mizuki's ability to deceive civilians made him extremely useful.
Souji's eyes gleamed.
This guy… is a perfect candidate.
A navy leader.
My first pawn.
My first subordinate.
Exactly the talent I need.
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