Anbu life could actually be quite comfortable.
Especially when you were an Anbu squad captain proficient in the Shadow Clone Technique—and your superior was your old mentor's close ally.
Sunlight filtered through the specially designed windows of the office, sliced into lazy grids that scattered across the floor.
Sora lounged deeply in his plush chair, feet propped casually on the desk, leisurely flipping through a rare, isolated copy of ninjutsu theory.
In one corner of the office, an identical "Sora" diligently organized mission scrolls without complaint.
Life like this was almost too comfortable.
An Anbu wearing a tiger mask pushed open the door. Seeing the scene, the corners of his mouth twitched beneath the mask.
He placed a scroll on the desk.
"Captain Sora, this is the mission report your clone just submitted."
"Thanks for the hard work, senior," Sora replied without lifting his head, eyes still glued to his book.
"Your clone used Lightning Release like fireworks during the mission—nearly burned down the target's warehouse," the tiger-masked Anbu added.
"Whoops, my bad," Sora waved dismissively, utterly unconcerned. "Young folks, you know—sometimes hard to control their strength."
Tiger mask: "..."
That was *your* clone.
He sighed inwardly. This was someone highly regarded by both the Third Hokage and Lord Jiraiya—what could he say?
Covering for him was the job.
The tiger-masked Anbu shook his head and left the office, carefully closing the door behind him.
At that moment, another figure appeared silently in the room.
Uchiha Itachi.
He wore standard Anbu uniform, his face concealed by the crow mask representing the weasel.
"Yo, Itachi," Sora finally looked up from his book, flashing his signature bright smile. "Back from the mission? Hope my clone didn't cause you any trouble."
"No," Uchiha Itachi replied, his voice as ever calm and measured.
He removed his mask, revealing a handsome yet visibly weary face.
"Captain Sora." Itachi paused briefly, as if choosing his words carefully.
"Something up?" Sora raised an eyebrow.
"My father, Uchiha Fugaku, wishes to speak with you."
Sora's smile froze for the briefest instant.
He lowered his crossed legs from the desk and sat up straight.
The shift in Sora's expression lasted only a fraction of a second before he reverted to his carefree demeanor.
"Clan Head Fugaku?" He scratched his head with exaggerated confusion. "We've been communicating fine through you, haven't we? Why the sudden request to meet me directly?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Itachi answered honestly, his Sharingan eyes betraying no emotion. "Father only said it might be a simple discussion—to plan future directions."
Plan *my* direction?
Sora nearly laughed aloud.
My direction is sunbathing and feeding cats—does a clan head really need to "plan" that for me?
"My direction, huh..." Sora sighed dramatically, slumping back into his chair like a puddle of mud. "Isn't it just coasting through life, waiting for early retirement?"
His act left even Itachi momentarily speechless.
"Fine, fine," Sora waved dismissively with a "can't do anything about you people" expression. "Since it's an invitation from the clan head himself, how could a mere squad captain like me refuse?"
He changed tack smoothly.
"But I don't like overly formal settings—they're too stifling."
"Tell Clan Head Fugaku—tonight, by the Naka River. It's quiet there."
Itachi's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.
The Naka River.
A place of special significance to the Uchiha clan.
And an open, unobstructed location with no cover.
"Understood," Itachi nodded, replacing his mask. His figure flickered and vanished.
The office fell silent once more, leaving Sora alone.
His smile gradually faded.
Those perpetually smiling amber eyes now held only profound, bottomless calm.
He walked to the window, gazing down at the bustling village below.
Ino-Shika-Cho.
Jiraiya.
Uzumaki Karin.
Every recent move he'd made was like a pebble dropped into water.
And Uchiha Fugaku had evidently sensed one of those ripples.
The helmsman of one of Konoha's noble clans could no longer sit still.
A piece on the chessboard had begun moving on its own.
Sora stretched languidly, joints cracking with a series of pops.
"Seriously..."
"Can't people just let me be a quiet mastermind behind the scenes?"
Evenings off-duty, Sora's life was more leisurely than the Hokage's.
One shadow clone was dispatched to continue training Karin at the field—helping her bond with those unruly golden chains.
While the real Sora tied on an apron and prepared a lavish dinner for himself and Karin.
After eating, Karin dutifully washed the dishes.
Sora strolled to the neighbor's doorstep, skillfully pulling dried fish from his pocket and whistling softly to an orange cat grooming itself on the wall.
The cat's ears twitched; it meowed and leaped down gracefully, rubbing its head against Sora's leg.
Sora crouched, scratching under its chin, savoring the contented purrs.
Cats were best when they belonged to someone else.
He squinted in enjoyment, feeling the evening breeze and the cat's soft fur.
If not for the ninja world, this daily routine of petting cats, feeding them, and waiting for retirement would be disgustingly sweet.
Night deepened.
Sora returned to the apartment, leaving a shadow clone in bed with simulated even breathing. The real him changed into lightweight dark civilian clothes and slipped silently out the window.
By the Naka River, water murmured gently.
Moonlight danced on the surface in shimmering ripples.
Uchiha Fugaku was already waiting, dressed in deep-colored traditional robes, hands tucked in sleeves, standing tall as a pine with his back to the river.
The dignified aura of a clan head remained undiminished even in the darkness.
Sora's figure appeared like a ghost—silent and sudden—a short distance behind him.
"Clan Head Fugaku—sorry to keep you waiting," Sora's voice broke the quiet, carrying his usual light, cheerful tone.
Uchiha Fugaku turned slowly.
This was Sora's first formal meeting with the Uchiha clan's leader.
His gaze was hawk-sharp, as if piercing straight into one's soul.
"Captain Akashi," Fugaku's voice was deep and resonant. "Thank you for coming despite the late hour and abrupt invitation."
"Not at all—Clan Head Fugaku is too polite," Sora replied with a cheerful wave, adopting the respectful demeanor of a junior. "When you summon me, how could I possibly refuse?"
Fugaku was not swayed by the surface act. He observed Sora in silence for a moment before cutting straight to the point.
"I wish to discuss future arrangements in depth."
"And how the Uchiha clan can cooperate with you."
"This is the closest our Uchiha clan has come to the Hokage position in many years."
He spoke with absolute conviction.
Sora met his gaze; all pretense finally stripped from his amber eyes, leaving only profound, unfathomable stillness.
"Since Clan Head Fugaku shows such sincerity, I'll speak plainly as well."
"There are indeed matters where I require the Uchiha clan's assistance."
Fugaku's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly.
"After I become Hokage, I will need a large number of trustworthy administrative personnel to swiftly replace key positions throughout the village—securing control."
He sought not ninja combatants, not military force.
But personnel capable of embedding deeply into the village's administrative system.
Fugaku's pupils contracted sharply.
He had anticipated requests for Uchiha military support or political alignment in power struggles.
Yet the young man's vision had already leaped beyond "how to ascend"—straight to "how to govern."
"So you are determined to claim the Hokage seat," Fugaku's voice grew slightly hoarse. "You need nothing else from us?"
"No," Sora shook his head. "You need only stand with me when the time comes—that will suffice."
Fugaku's face flashed with disbelief.
It was... that simple?