Looking at the black figure outside the door.
"Curator, curator..."
Samui's voice trembled, laced with guilt, her thoughts spinning frantically—had she been discovered?
Spies deserve death.
At that moment, the memories of what Uchiha Duan had once told her about the brutal end of those Yuyin spies came rushing back, and cold sweat began streaming down her back.
Thump-thump-thump.
Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the suffocating silhouette outside the sliding door, dread seizing every muscle in her body.
"I heard your voice. You sound... a little off."
Duan's calm voice broke the silence like a kunai slicing through cloth.
"Ah—I... I've been struggling with insomnia lately. I can't seem to fall asleep." Samui stammered, trying to sound casual as she subtly inched toward the window, sliding it open just slightly.
If her cover was blown, she was prepared to jump and flee the village—Yugakure protocol was clear: survival came before mission if capture was inevitable.
"Insomnia?"
Duan echoed her words. Whether he believed them or not was impossible to tell; his tone remained unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away, vanishing down the corridor in silence.
What now? Should I run?
As Samui hesitated, biting her lower lip, the sound of approaching footsteps returned—measured, deliberate.
The silhouette appeared once again at her door.
"I brought you something—aromatherapy to help you sleep. It's outside your door."
"...Thank you, curator..."
Samui blinked in confusion. She approached the door cautiously, slid it open, and found a small ceramic dish gently steaming with a calming scent of lavender and herbs—completely benign.
It really was… just aromatherapy?
Hahhh~
She exhaled deeply, collapsing backward onto her futon. Her entire back was damp with cold sweat, her muscles slowly relaxing from the coiled tension.
She'd gotten careless—far too careless.
---
The next two days passed quietly.
The gym returned to its usual calm. No new members. No disturbances.
As the front desk attendant, Samui found herself slipping into a familiar monotony, filing her nails between fleeting glances at the gym's entrance.
That business card she had handed to Akimichi Chōza two nights ago?
No reply.
No visitors.
No follow-up.
Just silence.
As expected, her hopes of gathering intel on the Akimichi clan through young Chōji had vanished like mist under the sun.
Apparently, the Uchiha name still bore heavy weight—and heavier consequences.
Even when Duan spoke gently, offered help, or trained the village's youth, the moment they learned his surname, they turned away like he carried a contagious curse.
Though Samui had worked closely with him for months now—and found him neither cruel nor volatile—the village's perception was deeply entrenched. His very name was a wall between him and the rest of Konoha.
Still…
She occasionally caught signs.
Peeping eyes across the street, faint chakra signatures lingering at odd hours.
Police.
Anbu.
Konoha's intelligence divisions were all watching—but who were they watching more closely: Duan? Or her?
The surface appeared peaceful, but beneath it, unseen tensions stirred like ripples under still water.
---
Early morning.
In another part of the village, Uchiha Itachi ascended the steps of the Hokage Building with measured footsteps, his face composed, eyes steady.
He was reporting for duty.
Since being inducted into the Sixth Anbu Division, Itachi had been placed under the direct command of Hatake Kakashi—a seasoned shinobi and war hero.
At this stage, Itachi's duties mostly involved being part of the Third Hokage's personal protection detail, standing silently outside the office day after day, observing everything and speaking little.
Not glamorous.
Not even challenging.
Just standing—watching.
Security.
Still, Itachi understood. Every step in the Anbu had its purpose. Observation. Endurance. Internal discipline. It was a test.
"Itachi, good morning."
A plain-looking boy with short brown hair approached, offering Itachi a casual smile.
He was Itachi's teammate—code-named "Tenzo." It was said that, like their captain Kakashi, Tenzo had been promoted to Chūnin at the age of six and possessed the Wood Release Kekkei Genkai, inherited from the First Hokage.
A rare talent—one in a thousand.
Itachi, too, was considered a genius. But in the shadow of both his captain and this prodigious teammate, he was currently the most inconspicuous member of Squad Six.
"Where's the captain? Not here yet?" Itachi nodded toward Tenzo, his voice neutral.
"If he ever arrives on time, it wouldn't be Kakashi-senpai." Tenzo leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and face resigned.
---
Moments later—
"Oh, I'm sorry. After leaving home, I found myself wandering at the crossroads of life. That's why I'm late."
With a familiar lazy drawl, Kakashi appeared from around the corner—silver hair disheveled, face half-covered by his mask, hands tucked into his pockets.
Itachi and Tenzo exchanged knowing glances.
This was their captain—habitually late, always armed with strange and poetic excuses.
"No guard duty today," Kakashi said as he walked up, patting their shoulders and motioning for them to follow. "We've got a new mission."
He didn't elaborate—just led the way, that unreadable air of mystery never leaving him.
The three departed the Hokage Building and headed southwest, deeper into the village.
---
Before long, they entered a tall, windowless structure.
Bang—clack.
Kakashi pushed open a reinforced door and walked inside.
The room was dimly lit but offered a commanding view—large one-way observation windows lined the walls, along with multiple telescopes and surveillance monitors. Several Anbu operatives were stationed here, quietly observing.
"Shift change," Kakashi announced casually.
"No abnormal activity," one of the Anbu replied. The operatives handed off their stations and exited in silence.
Kakashi turned toward Itachi, his expression unreadable.
Before Itachi could even ask, his captain spoke first:
"This surveillance station is for observing the Uchiha clan. So, what do you think—should I be telling your clan about it?"
A direct test.
Itachi didn't answer that question. Instead, he asked calmly, "What's my assignment here?"
"Simple," Kakashi replied. "You monitor with that device. No need to lift a kunai—you won't even break a sweat."
Tenzo stepped forward, pointing to the closest screen. "Just keep your eyes on the monitors. It's pretty straightforward."
He then headed over to one of the telescopes and resumed observation.
Seriously?
Guard duty or surveillance—either way, it was glorified security work.
Itachi said nothing.
This wasn't what he envisioned when joining Anbu.
Kakashi, meanwhile, was studying his subordinate's expression with interest. Seeing Itachi remain quiet, he gently offered:
"Monitoring your own clan—your own relatives—it's not an easy task. Want me to cover for you?"
"It's fine."
Itachi shook his head. Without complaint, he stepped forward and took a seat before one of the monitoring screens.
---
The district of the Uchiha clan came into view.
Children were playing in small groups.
A new shop had just opened—its storefront crowded with customers.
An old man reclined in a chair, basking in the morning sunlight.
A young couple laughed quietly as they slipped into the nearby forest grove.
Everything captured by the surveillance cameras seemed so ordinary—so human.
From what he could see, the Uchiha were no different from any other villagers.
Their clan had been demonized—targeted—for reasons that went far beyond surface behavior.
And then—
Itachi caught sight of a familiar figure: a small boy, walking to the ninja academy with a satchel on his back.
It was Sasuke—his younger brother.
A soft smile crept across Itachi's face before quickly fading.
Because in the next second, his expression shifted to surprise.
On the edge of the frame, another building came into view: his uncle Duan's gym—the "Body Modification Department."
"That camera was just installed," Kakashi noted, his tone lazy. "You visited your uncle a few days ago, right? Uchiha Duan?"
Itachi's heart skipped a beat.
So even his movements were being monitored this whole time?
"…Yeah," he responded quietly, holding his composure.
---
A few minutes passed.
On the screen, Itachi watched Duan and his assistant, Samui, return from somewhere, each carrying a large bucket of milk.
They were walking through the alley beside the gym.
Suddenly—
Duan halted.
He lifted his head—and stared directly at the surveillance camera hidden among the trees.
Then he turned to Samui, gesturing toward it. Her face stiffened, and she shook her head, clearly denying any knowledge.
Because the camera lacked audio pickup, Itachi couldn't hear the conversation—but he felt an uneasy chill in his chest.
A premonition.
As expected—
Duan bent down, casually picked up a pebble from the ground, and without changing expression—
Flick.
The small stone rocketed through the air.
On the screen, the pebble grew rapidly, filling the monitor.
CRACK!
The feed went black.
Itachi: "…"
Kakashi, legs propped up and nose deep in a tattered volume of Icha Icha Paradise, lowered the book and asked nonchalantly:
"Something happen?"