Early the next morning, Hikaru got up right on time.
Once his body clock had fully settled, he almost never tried to change it. Even with only a few hours of rest, it was enough for him.
He still believed ANBU wasn't a place meant for normal people—but he had to admit the years there had given him something valuable.
For example: in his previous life, he'd suffered from insomnia to some degree. But after joining ANBU, he'd developed a strange ability.
If he wanted to, he could drop into deep sleep on command.
With that kind of sleep—and chakra helping his recovery—he needed very little rest to fully reset.
"A rare holiday… starting again."
Stretching lazily, Hikaru headed outside. But as he passed the elder's wooden cabin, he discreetly slipped a scroll inside before continuing on.
As a Senju working in ANBU, he knew exactly what he was.
No need to sugarcoat it—he was a spy.
A clan spy, spying on the village for his own family.
That meant every mission he ran, every move ANBU made… he had to report it to the elder.
Hikaru hated the feeling.
But he also knew he had to do it.
On a personal level—even if he didn't feel a strong sense of belonging to the Senju—he had to admit the clan had sheltered him after he arrived in this world.
They'd provided the foundation of his ninja training. They'd opened access to techniques and resources later on.
And yes, he understood perfectly: that "support" came because he showed talent. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have received any of it.
Still—what he received, he received. He wasn't going to argue in circles about it.
As long as it stayed within his ability, and didn't put his own safety at risk, trying to repay that debt was only natural.
Besides—if he wanted to complete his "mission," integrating the Senju was unavoidable anyway.
Sometimes he wondered which would've been better: being reborn as an Uchiha… or as a Senju.
After thinking it through, he always came to the same conclusion—
There was no good answer.
Both clans had glaring strengths and equally glaring weaknesses.
The Senju's advantage was internal stability.
But their influence had withered to almost nothing, and their overall strength had declined brutally.
The Uchiha's advantage was the opposite: they still had power, resources, and presence.
But internally they were split, externally they were isolated, and they were constantly being watched by Konoha's giants.
Put bluntly—
The Uchiha wouldn't survive another seven or eight years. Not if things played out like the original timeline.
And the Senju? After another seven or eight years, they'd be erased from Konoha's influence entirely—until everyone forgot them.
Eventually… until even the Senju forgot who they were.
"In the end… neither clan gets a good ending."
Hikaru shook his head, his gaze drifting toward the four giant faces carved into the mountain.
Two founding clans of Konoha.
One crushed by force. One erased by policy.
Both tossed into history's trash heap.
If you insisted they still "continued," sure—Tsunade existed, and Sasuke existed.
But if you looked at it that way, the Uchiha "profited" more.
Their survivor became a savior.
"Still… none of that matters to me. Because no matter which ending happens, I don't get a future if I'm caught in it."
He sighed and headed toward a training ground.
Konoha had plenty—built specifically for ninja use. Hikaru had no interest in wandering into abandoned forest training sites.
First, they were too far.
Second, what happened last night was still fresh in his mind.
Root was unstable right now. The new recruits were sloppy. And Hikaru had no desire to invite trouble.
Even if he could guess those idiots had probably paid a steep price afterward—he wasn't going to "test" that lesson again.
"Besides… what I'm training isn't that big a deal. Maybe I can even find someone to help."
That thought carried him into the training field.
Konoha ninja really were diligent—despite it being only around six or seven in the morning, there were already people there.
Unfortunately for Hikaru, there weren't many.
Too few people meant too few good sparring candidates.
He scanned the area, letting his sensory awareness brush over the chakra signatures around him.
Nothing stood out.
Judging someone by chakra alone wasn't perfect— Hikaru himself was proof of that, with only chūnin-level reserves but jōnin-level lethality.
Still, chakra was a solid indicator of someone's base.
Strong chakra rarely came with a weak fighter.
But here? Most were chūnin-level at best.
Some were clearly genin.
And their training habits made it obvious their real combat readiness wasn't anything special either.
After years of constant real combat, Hikaru's instincts for an opponent's foundation were sharp—almost automatic.
He sighed.
"Came too early… careless."
He started walking deeper into the training grounds, looking for a quiet corner to work alone.
Then—
He spotted a figure that felt strangely familiar.
Long black hair, tied up into a high ponytail for training.
A tight black combat suit.
And on the back of the outfit—an emblem in red and white, shaped almost like a ping-pong paddle.
Uchiha.
Hikaru froze for a beat.
And when the person flicked a kunai—letting a trace of chakra leak out without realizing—it clicked.
If he wasn't mistaken…
That was likely his old desk partner from school.
Her name was—
Uchiha Saya.
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