The messenger hawk found me three days after leaving Shirogane, its arrival announced by the distinctive whistle that meant official Konoha business. I almost didn't stop to read the message, my first instinct being to ignore any attempt by the village to control my journey. But something made me pause—perhaps the memory of Naruto's earnest face during our last conversation, or maybe just curiosity about what the new Hokage could possibly want from me.
The message was brief, written in Naruto's characteristically direct style:
Sasuke— Strange disappearances near the Land of Waves. Travelers and merchants vanishing without a trace. Local authorities request assistance. Consider this your first assignment, if you're willing to take it. No obligation, but it would mean a lot to know you're helping people instead of wandering aimlessly. —Naruto P.S. This isn't an order. It's a request from a friend.
I read the message three times before the full implications sank in. Naruto was offering me a mission—not as punishment or monitoring, but as a genuine assignment from the Hokage's office. It was a sign of trust I wasn't sure I deserved, and more importantly, it represented something I'd never had before: the chance to use my skills for protection rather than destruction.
The Land of Waves. Of all the places Naruto could have chosen for my first mission, it had to be there. The location of Team 7's first real assignment, where we'd learned about bonds and sacrifice, where Haku and Zabuza had shown us that even enemies could have noble hearts. It felt like deliberate irony, though I suspected Naruto's choice was more hopeful symbolism than cruel jest.
I destroyed the message and set off toward the Land of Waves, my pace quickening as purpose replaced aimless wandering. For the first time since leaving Konoha, I had a destination that wasn't defined by running away from something. The feeling was... odd. Not unwelcome, exactly, but foreign enough to make me uncomfortable.
This is what taking orders feels like, I realized as I traveled. This is what normal ninja do—receive missions, complete objectives, report back. It was a structure I'd rejected as a child, dismissing it as weakness, but now I was beginning to understand that there might be strength in service to something larger than yourself.
The journey to the Land of Waves took two days of hard travel, and as I crossed the familiar bridge that Tazuna's team had died building, memories of our first mission came flooding back. There, on the platform where Haku had fallen, I could almost see thirteen-year-old Naruto weeping over an enemy who'd become something more complex than simple opposition. There, in the shadows where Zabuza had made his final stand, I could hear echoes of his words about bonds and the true nature of strength.
How naive we'd been then, thinking we understood the world's complexities based on one mission, one glimpse behind the curtain of adult politics and tragedy. How much simpler everything had seemed when enemies were clearly marked and heroism was a matter of protecting the innocent from the obviously guilty.
The town at the bridge's end had grown since our last visit. Prosperity had returned to the Land of Waves, bringing with it new buildings, expanded docks, and the bustling activity of successful trade. It should have been gratifying to see the positive results of our old mission, but instead I felt detached from it all, like someone observing a play I'd briefly participated in years ago.
I found the local authority figure—a middle-aged man named Watanabe who served as both mayor and constable—in his office near the harbor. His reaction to my introduction was a mixture of recognition, confusion, and poorly concealed nervousness.
"Sasuke Uchiha," he said slowly, as if testing how the name felt in his mouth. "The Hokage said he'd send someone, but I expected... someone different."
"Different how?"
"Less infamous," he said bluntly. "No offense intended, but your reputation isn't exactly reassuring to people who value stability and safety."
His honesty was refreshing after years of people either fearing me or worshipping me. "None taken," I said. "Tell me about the disappearances."
Watanabe spread a map across his desk, marking locations with red ink. "Fifteen people in the last month," he said. "Merchants, travelers, even a few locals who were making routine trips between towns. They set out on well-traveled roads and simply vanish. No bodies, no signs of struggle, no ransom demands. Just... gone."
I studied the pattern of markings, noting the clustering around certain routes and the timeline of disappearances. "Any witnesses?"
"None who saw anything useful. A few travelers reported seeing strange mists in areas where there shouldn't be any, but that could mean anything. We've had search parties combing the countryside, but they've found nothing."
"What kind of mists?"
Watanabe shrugged. "Unnatural ones, according to the reports. Too thick, too localized, too persistent. But you know how travelers' stories can grow in the telling."
I knew, but I also knew that unnatural mists could be a sign of jutsu at work. Hidden Mist techniques, perhaps, or some other form of chakra manipulation designed to disorient and confuse victims. "I'll need to examine the sites where people disappeared."
"Of course. I can provide a guide—"
"No," I said quickly. "I work better alone."
It was partially true, but mostly it was an old habit. Working alone meant no one could be hurt by association with me, no one could witness my methods if they proved necessary, and no one could discover things about my past that were better left buried. Even on a mission sanctioned by Konoha, some reflexes died hard.
Watanabe looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have discouraged him. "Very well. But please, if you find anything—anything at all—report back immediately. These disappearances have people terrified. Some are talking about abandoning their homes and moving inland."
The desperation in his voice was genuine, and I found myself moved by it despite my attempts to maintain emotional distance. These people were facing an unknown threat that was slowly strangling their community, and they were looking to me for salvation. The irony wasn't lost on me—the man who'd brought terror to so many places was now being asked to drive terror away.
"I'll find what's responsible," I promised, the words coming out with more conviction than I'd felt in years.
As I left Watanabe's office and began examining the first disappearance site, I reflected on how strange it felt to be working within the system again. No hidden agendas, no personal vendettas, just a straightforward mission to protect innocent people from harm. It was what I should have been doing all along, what I'd trained for as a child before darkness derailed my path.
This is your chance, I told myself as I searched for clues that more obvious investigators had missed. Your chance to prove that redemption isn't just a pretty word, that you can actually use your skills to help instead of hurt.
The pressure was almost overwhelming. Failure here wouldn't just mean a botched mission—it would mean that Naruto's faith in me was misplaced, that I truly was irredeemable, that the road I'd chosen to walk led nowhere but deeper into shadow.
But as I activated my Sharingan and began reading the microscopic details of the crime scene, I felt something I hadn't experienced in years: the satisfaction of using my power for a righteous cause. Whatever was taking these people, I would find it. And when I did, it would face the full wrath of an Uchiha who finally had something worth fighting for again.
The hunt began.