Lately, Saitama's appetite had grown like crazy—he devoured almost thirty out of fifty plates of grilled meat all by himself, leaving everyone around him in shock.
Luckily, Shisui had ordered fifty plates, or it wouldn't have been enough for the three of them.
After a satisfying meal, Saitama sat drinking some herbal tea gifted by the owner.
"Hokage, we'll take our leave first," Mori stood up and bid farewell to Minato Namikaze.
"Alright, Mori, you go ahead—we're not done yet." Smiling, Minato gently placed his chopsticks on the table and raised his head slightly to answer.
"Mmm! This is amazing!" Obito snorted contentedly as he chewed, while Kakashi subtly scooted sideways with a look of mild distaste.
"Kakashi, when can we have a chat?" As he passed their table, Saitama, sword hanging from his waist, said to Kakashi.
Kakashi paused mid-bite, looked up at Saitama, and gave a slight nod. He didn't know Saitama's true strength, but he wasn't intimidated—responding was just a matter of courtesy.
"Come on, Shisui!" At this moment, Shisui was still paying at the counter. Was he dead broke now?
Following Mori, Saitama exited the barbecue restaurant. After settling the bill, Shisui nodded once more toward Minato's table before hurrying out to catch up.
"Wait for me, Saitama!"
"Shisui? Saitama?" Minato withdrew his gaze thoughtfully. Those two names rang a bell—they seemed like early-graduating prodigies similar to Kakashi.
He turned back and resumed eating again. He ate with refined manners, chewing slowly, exuding the calm air of a well-educated scholar.
"Saitama, what did you think?" Walking along, Mori asked calmly.
"About Kakashi? Definitely strong, but not quite there yet," Saitama knew exactly who Mori meant and answered honestly.
After all, he'd already killed countless Jonin-level ninja on the battlefield. At this stage, Kakashi—who hadn't even become a Jonin yet—was nothing impressive in his eyes.
"Oh? Don't be arrogant, Saitama. That guy has a genius reputation too—he mightn't fit within common logic," Mori smiled slightly, relaxed in posture and teasing in tone.
"Wait, so Saitama really *is* that strong now?" Unable to resist asking, Shisui spoke up. He didn't know specifically what Saitama had done on the battlefield—he only heard vaguely that Saitama had performed well, beyond which he remained clueless. He hadn't asked, and Saitama never bothered to explain.
"Just average, Shisui!" Saitama shook his head lightly, strolling between the two as they walked.
Shisui tilted his head curiously at both Saitama and Mori but didn't ask further.
"We should head back and keep training. The New Year isn't far off, and we'll need to prep for active duty soon," Saitama said casually while walking.
"Sure!" Shisui nodded. Mori beside him remained silent.
Back at the training ground, other Clan Guard members were having lunch. Today's meal from the clan was pretty good—generous portions of meat, though naturally not as tasty as what they'd just eaten at the barbecue place.
After sitting down and chatting with some fellow guards for a bit, Saitama dragged Shisui along toward the farthest training area.
"Hokage, here's the report from the Sunagakure Front!"
In the Hokage Office of the Hokage Building, a ninja wearing an animal mask handed a booklet to Hiruzen Sarutobi.
"Hmm," Hiruzen grunted, tapped the pipe in his hand, then narrowed his eyes to read the report laid out before him.
This intelligence had come directly from Orochimaru, though naturally, Hiruzen had his own means of gathering information as well.
The more he read, the greater the surprise that spread across Hiruzen's face.
"You may leave now," Hiruzen nodded, dismissing the Anbu member who still stood by the table.
[Killing several Jonin in succession!] [Facing overwhelming odds!] [Uchiha!] [Sharingan Twin Tomoe!] [Seven years old!]
Hiruzen noted the crucial details from the report.
"This Saitama Uchiha — wasn't he the one who requested to graduate early this year? I remember there was another Uchiha with him. What was his name again?" Hiruzen tapped his pipe against the table, his gaze deepening as his wrinkles became more pronounced.
In Orochimaru's most recent battle report, he only mentioned the escalating conflict with Sunagakure—and that both he and Rasa had been wounded.
The information in his hands focused solely on Saitama Uchiha—and it was written with clear admiration.
"Why is it an Uchiha?" The Third set down his pipe and rubbed his temples.
Pushing that thought aside, the Third picked up another report left nearby.
It was a list of ninja submitted by Fugaku Uchiha not long ago—shinobi selected for deployment toward the Mist direction.
Under pressure from the Elder Council, the Uchiha clan had dispatched nearly 150 ninja—almost two-thirds of the current ninja force residing in their compound.
The Third dropped his gaze to the document, hiding whatever thoughts stirred behind his calm exterior.
"Crash!"
The door was shoved open, and an elderly man wrapped in bandages covering half his body entered leaning on a crutch.
The Third lifted his head, eyes showing confusion mixed with a trace of anger.
"Hiruzen!" Danzo strode straight toward him without hesitation.
Setting the papers aside, Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, gripping his pipe tightly.
"What is it, Danzo?" His tone was neutral, neither friendly nor hostile, as he took a deep puff of smoke.
"Has the Uchiha clan submitted their list?" Danzo rested both hands on his crutch, standing firmly in front of the desk.
"This is the Hokage's office!" A hint of irritation crept into the Third's voice as he frowned inwardly.
Danzo's casual attitude infuriated him—it disregarded the fact that Hiruzen was the Hokage.
"I understand," Danzo replied, slightly lowering his head upon realizing his rudeness.
"Whoosh!" With a flick of his wrist, the Third sent the scroll sliding across the table toward Danzo, then resumed smoking, letting clouds of smoke obscure his face.
Danzo caught the scroll and scanned through it. Soon enough, his eyes found the person he sought.
Saitama Uchiha!
"I would like to recruit this Saitama Uchiha into Root!"
After a moment's pause, Danzo finally spoke up.
"Absolutely not! Think about his background!" The Third exhaled a puff of white smoke, his tone tinged with reluctant disapproval.
"So what if he's an Uchiha? The Root has never had one before—and we've been missing that piece," Danzo shot back.
Danzo's tone was somewhat firm. He had long learned about Saitama Uchiha's full background through Root's intelligence apparatus—even understanding the boy's talent better than the Third did.
"Drop it! The Uchiha Clan will *never* approve!" The Third refused, his eyes already beginning to scheme deeply.
"You might consider someone else. That will be all," he said dismissively, picking up other documents from the table.
"Hmph!" Danzo's eyes flickered with shadow, his face showing slight resentment. But as the root under the Hokage's nose, how could he give up so easily?
The Third had rejected his open attempt to recruit Saitama into Root—but did that mean he had no other methods? Though he held no fondness for the Uchiha Clan, this didn't stop him from seeking a useful tool.
"Kokokoko!" The sound of his cane faded gradually. Danzo felt his body failing—old injuries, long buried, now flared up with vengeance.
Looks like it's time to prepare for cooperation with that person, Danzo decided inwardly.
The afternoon passed quickly. Training between Saitama and Shisui had been effective. Saitama's grasp of the [Shifting Body Technique] was slowly strengthening.
"Shisui, I'm heading back first," Saitama said casually, hooking his blade at his waist before striding outside, leaving behind an exhausted Shisui.
An entire afternoon of sparring made Shisui feel drained both physically and mentally. Saitama's individual strength made him feel like he could never catch up in this lifetime.
"Yeah, you go ahead. I'll stay a bit longer," Shisui waved weakly, despite his tiredness.
It was nearing five in the afternoon. The sky had begun to darken earlier than usual—winter had arrived, and the air turned crisp with cold.
Saitama wore a close-fitting black training suit underneath, over which he layered the typical high-necked top favored by the Uchiha Clan. Below was his usual ninja pants, as he slowly made his way home.
Soon, Saitama entered a dead-end alley—empty and deserted.
"Come out from your cowardly hideout!" As soon as he left the training grounds, Saitama sensed someone tailing him. Though well-hidden, they couldn't escape Saitama's innate sensitivity to chakra.
He rested his right hand on his sword, chakra surging within his body.
"Shua!" A figure emerged from the wall, wearing a mask.
"Truly, you are the one chosen by our master," the figure spoke cryptically as soon as he appeared.
"Hokage or Danzo?" Saitama frowned at the figure before him—this familiar attire could only belong to Anbu or Root ninjas.
"He probably works for Danzo," Saitama thought quickly but kept his expression neutral.
"Who are you?" Saitama asked deliberately, intentionally concealing his knowledge of the enemy's identity.
"Uchiha Saitama, I belong to Root—I represent the will of a great leader who wishes to invite you to join us!" The Root ninja stood straight, speaking with a hint of arrogance.
"Root?" Saitama feigned confusion.
"Yes, the branch of Root directly under Danzo's command!" The ninja nodded.
"You can think of us as an organization parallel to Anbu—affiliated in function yet independent in structure!" The Root ninja explained.
"So you're saying the Hokage sent you here?" Pretending not to understand, Saitama questioned further.
"That answer will become clear once you join us," the Root ninja didn't respond directly, his eyes fixed on Saitama.
"What do you think?" he asked in a low voice, addressing Saitama.
"Hehe." Saitama chuckled, finding this Root ninja's thought process somewhat peculiar.
"Whoosh!" Saitama vanished from before the Root ninja.
"What?" The Root's eyes narrowed, his body tensed.
"Don't move!" A blade pressed against his waist. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck as his body stiffened—he hadn't even caught a glimpse of Saitama's movement.
Jolts of electricity ran through his clothes, shocking the Root and paralyzing him in place.
"I certainly won't trust an unidentified ninja who won't even reveal his true face," Saitama whispered softly from behind the Root, his cold, clear voice making the enemy's body tremble slightly.
"Return and inform whoever sent you—I'm not interested." Saitama withdrew his blade, jumped off the wall, and walked toward home.
"Phew!" The Root let out a deep breath, still shaken by the very real brush with death—he was completely powerless before this kid.
Without bothering about his still-tingling back, the Root looked at Saitama, who had already exited the alleyway and prepared to turn a corner, deciding then to return and report his mission.
"Slightly interesting," Saitama muttered as he walked out of the alley, already putting the incident behind him.
With his strength improving, he'd surely attract certain people's attention, but unlike before, he wasn't just another ordinary Uchiha—this time, he wouldn't act like a helpless lamb when facing those individuals.
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