The training ground was sparsely populated, with a dozen or so young boys scattered around—each roughly around ten years old.
"Alright, everyone, hold up. We've got new recruits."
Uchiha Mori clapped his hands, drawing the young trainees' attention.
The boys stopped their drills and gathered in a loose semi-circle. They had clearly just started training for the day. Their curious eyes settled on Saitama and Shisui.
"Hey, everyone. I'm Uchiha Saitama. Please take care of me going forward!"
Saitama stepped forward and introduced himself before Mori could say a word.
The group looked at him with interest—he was clearly younger than the rest, and his calm composure stood out.
Only one other person had joined this early before: Shisui.
And everyone here already knew what kind of monster Shisui was.
"Saitama and Shisui are now officially part of the unit. I expect you to get along and support one another," Mori said, glancing around at the group.
As Saitama looked at the young faces—still unpolished, still green—a strange sense of responsibility stirred in his chest.
Could the future of the Uchiha really rest with this generation?
There were no further instructions. The trainees returned to their drills. No one asked for names or backgrounds—those would be learned through sparring and shared effort.
"Saitama, Shisui—come with me."
Mori led the two aside, his expression more serious now than it had been all morning.
"I know you both are more mature than your peers," he began, his voice steady, "but it's still early. Prove yourselves through action. Grow stronger here. For the clan's future."
His tone was solemn, each word deliberate.
Saitama stood straight, eyes unwavering. Shisui also nodded with grave determination.
"We won't let the clan down," Saitama said. There's no getting off this ship now—and no reason to.
"Good. Remember those words."
Afterward, Mori briefed them on the Guard's true nature.
Although officially listed under the Konoha Military Police Force, this particular team didn't perform typical police duties. Their roles were veiled in secrecy—an internal Uchiha initiative operating beneath the surface.
As Saitama suspected, this was a front.
But with this hidden role came resources. Serious ones.
Advanced ninjutsu scrolls, chakra control techniques, specialized training sessions, and equipment—all supplied directly by the Uchiha clan. Their support was undeniable. When it came to strengthening their own, the Uchiha spared no expense.
Konoha's most powerful clan had the means to turn potential into power—and they would.
That first morning passed quickly. Saitama didn't train with the others, choosing instead to return home to speak with Grandma Kaka and retrieve some essentials.
With the clan backing him now, growth was no longer reliant on raw talent alone—and that thought genuinely excited him.
In the afternoon, Saitama returned to the Guard compound.
The training field hadn't changed. The same group of boys was still out there, drenched in sweat, immersed in their practice.
Saitama didn't call attention to himself. Instead, he found a quiet corner and began refining his sword techniques.
Whoosh!
His blade carved arcs through the air with clean precision—until a voice interrupted him.
"Hey, you're Saitama, right?"
Saitama stopped mid-swing and turned.
A boy stood a few paces away, watching him with open curiosity.
"That's right. And you are?"
"I'm Uchiha Nagisa."
He approached and casually extended a hand. Saitama blinked in mild surprise, then took it.
"Thanks," he said, not used to such direct friendliness.
"You use a sword like Shisui?"
"Sort of. I've trained under him a bit."
"Ohh, then you must be strong too. Shisui's swordplay is top-tier here," Nagisa said, grinning. "You'll fit in."
He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. "By the way, your first trial's coming up soon. Be ready."
"Trial?"
"Yeah," Nagisa nodded gravely. "I had mine last month. Was sore for days after. You'll see what I mean."
His tone was oddly cheerful, considering the warning. It clashed hilariously with his baby face.
As Nagisa walked away, Saitama returned to his stance.
I'm not afraid of any trial.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Saitama trained quietly until dinner, which was provided by the clan within the compound cafeteria.
The meals were surprisingly high quality—packed with nutrients and variety. It reminded Saitama of the elite training regimens from his past life—like the kind Olympic athletes might get. Or better.
Mori had mentioned earlier: once the Captain—Uchiha Fugaku himself—acknowledged your strength, you could apply to learn any jutsu the clan possessed.
Saitama couldn't deny it—he was tempted.
He returned home around seven or eight in the evening. Grandma Kaka had already turned in for the night, as instructed. She no longer waited up for him.
After washing up, Saitama lay on his bed. He no longer needed to sit in formal meditation to refine chakra—he could do it lying down, like second nature now.
Even after a full afternoon of effort, he still felt fatigue creeping in. A good kind.
Some of the other trainees had even come over to chat with him briefly. He'd responded politely, open but reserved.
Not everyone here needed to know what he carried. Not yet.
And so, the night passed quietly.