Yuhara never expected that Shisui would actually request to join him on this mission.
What surprised him even more was that after submitting the request, the old man Hiruzen Sarutobi actually approved it.
It made sense that Shisui wanted to come—he had a lot of questions and clearly needed answers. But given his ANBU status, getting approval to leave the village wasn't something that should have been easy. Especially not now, when the Uchiha's situation was growing increasingly tense and complicated.
The fact that Sarutobi allowed it made Yuhara suspicious.
"Are we being followed? Is someone tailing us to see what we're up to?"
The thought wasn't unreasonable. But as Yuhara reflected further, he came to a different conclusion: this was probably a gesture. A way for the Third Hokage to appear generous and trusting.
Shisui had always presented himself as loyal to both the Hokage and the village. And considering his position, the pressure on him was enormous. Letting him "get some air" with a childhood friend like Yuhara might have just been a political maneuver to maintain his loyalty.
And Yuhara himself? Unlike most Uchihas, he had always been friendly, approachable—even helpful to ordinary villagers. He didn't carry the Uchiha clan's usual arrogance. It wouldn't be far-fetched for Sarutobi to believe that Yuhara carried the so-called "Will of Fire."
But even with that in mind, Yuhara wasn't naive.
The Third Hokage, much like Tobirama Senju, didn't truly trust the Uchiha. Not deep down. That much had always been obvious. Still, Sarutobi had more than just Shisui as a card to play—he also had Itachi. That's why he wasn't afraid to let Shisui go. Even if something went wrong, he had another piece ready to act.
Understanding this, Yuhara relaxed a little. At least he didn't have to constantly look over his shoulder or censor everything he wanted to say.
As they walked along a wide dirt path, Yuhara glanced at Shisui and grinned.
"Third Hokage sure is generous. A whole month off? That's more than I expected."
"You can thank yourself for that," Shisui replied with a tired smile. "If you hadn't started requesting all those bizarre missions and then dragged me into gathering intel through ANBU channels, the Hokage never would've granted it."
Yuhara just shrugged. He wasn't worried. After all, he truly did plan to hunt down rogue ninjas—and the targets he had in mind weren't low-level.
As for using ANBU intel? That was practically standard practice. Everyone did it. The ANBU often had better, more accurate information than the mission board itself. As long as it didn't break protocol, Shisui had every right to access and share the intel.
Plus, if a mission was already listed on the public board, anything ANBU had on it would eventually be passed along through official channels anyway—unless it was some fake mission meant to train Genin, like that Wave Country job. Yuhara still didn't buy the idea that Konoha hadn't known more about that one. Or that Kakashi's performance had been entirely honest.
The two moved quickly and quietly. Before long, they were a good distance outside the village walls.
Their assigned targets this time were all missing-nin—high-level rogue ninja, most of them from other villages.
It was funny, in a twisted way. Most hidden villages didn't even have much intel on their own missing-nin. It was an ironic truth across the entire shinobi world.
Once a ninja defected, they rarely stayed in their home country. And unlike the saying "the darkest place is under the lamp," ANBU didn't fall for such clichés.
If a rogue ninja crossed into another country and didn't stir up trouble, the hosting village would often protect them—quietly, of course. Not out of kindness, but out of pragmatism.
If the defector had value—strength, secrets—they'd be approached. If they were weak and useless? Then they were left alone as a passive insult to the village they fled from. Or held in reserve, just in case they could be used later in a diplomatic trade or exchange of favors.
Simply put: being a missing-nin wasn't easy. And hunting one down from your own village? That was the hardest job of all.
Once they were far enough away, Shisui finally asked what had been bothering him.
"So… why all the focus on high-ranking jonin? I get that it's a good excuse to stay out of the village longer, but I know you. You've got more going on than that."
"Let's just call it 'training,'" Yuhara said with a grin. "I need to sharpen myself. And like I told you—I need time to think."
Shisui fell silent for a few moments before speaking again.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"If—just hypothetically—you became clan head… what would you do?"
Yuhara couldn't help but chuckle.
"If I were clan head? First thing I'd do is bring the entire clan under one banner."
He paused, then looked up at the sky.
"It's fine if people have different thoughts. That's natural. But when it comes to action and purpose, everyone needs to be united. One will, one goal. Only then can we achieve anything meaningful."
"But even that isn't enough. We need a political vision—clear demands and a plan to achieve them."
He turned back to Shisui, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Every action must have a purpose. Our short-term goal should be ending the internal chaos. To make sure the clan can live peacefully, without fear or division.
"And the long-term goal?"
He smiled.
"To make Konoha hear us. To make them understand we don't want to tear the village apart. We want to be part of it. We've always been part of it.
"We, the Uchiha, never left Konoha—not really."
His voice rang with conviction, and Shisui's chest tightened with emotion.
Yes.
Even if the clan had drifted from the village, even if hatred and distrust had grown on both sides… the goal had always been to return.
Because they had never truly left.