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The clamor of the construction site was no longer chaotic.
Nara Shikato's command transformed everyone and every ninjutsu into precise cogs.
Hyuga Hizashi monitored each construction site with his Byakugan from atop a vertical earth release wall.
His voice, channeled through Yamanaka Ryo's mental link, became the most accurate instructions.
"Sector seven, the earthen wall needs to shift three centimeters to the left. Adjust it with a softening ninjutsu."
"Uchiha, load-bearing pillar number three in zone B has a zero point five degree deviation in verticality. Please recheck it."
On the ground, the Uchiha shinobi moved at his word. His three tomoe Sharingan spun rapidly as he cross-referenced the data with the blueprints.
He then said to the Kurokaze shinobi performing the earth release, "The soil hardening isn't enough. Increase your chakra output."
"Understood!"
Hyuga and Uchiha, one above and one below, one still and one moving, cooperated seamlessly, as if they had been partners for a long time.
The craftsmen, who had initially been exasperated by the shinobi, were now the most relaxed.
They only needed to install doors, windows, rebar, and other components according to the pre-drilled holes and dimensions after the ninjutsu shaping was complete.
An old craftsman with a grizzled beard watched the frames of houses rise from the ground before him. His hands trembled.
He had been a bricklayer his entire life.
From apprentice to master, leading a dozen apprentices, working tirelessly from dawn to dusk, he could at most build two such small buildings in a month.
But now... he looked up, and as far as his eyes could see, the foundations and main structures of thirty houses were already complete.
How much time had passed?
Just one morning!
Complex emotions surged within the old craftsman.
A coworker shouted, "Don't just stand there! Hurry! The window frames over there can be installed!"
"Hey! Coming, coming!"
The old craftsman responded and quickly jogged to catch up with the team. His enthusiasm was even greater than in his youth.
The entire construction site buzzed with incredible vitality.
Except for one person.
Asuma Sarutobi.
An air of incompatible solitude emanated from him.
He couldn't understand.
Nor could he comprehend.
Why Hyuga Hizashi and Uchiha, these elites from prestigious clans, would so contentedly do this kind of work.
Where was their pride?
Where was the Uchiha's infamous arrogance?
Where were the ingrained rules of the Hyuga branch family?
And those Ino-Shika-Cho guys, running back and forth like they were on a sugar rush, covered in dust, yet looking utterly satisfied?
They're crazy.
They're all crazy.
Asuma irritably stubbed out his cigarette, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it on the ground.
He admitted that Kazuma had a point.
And he admitted that the scene before him was indeed astonishing.
But this shouldn't be a shinobi's job!
Shinobi should shine on the battlefield. They should earn glory through blood-stained achievements!
This isn't right.
Something is very wrong.
Just as he was seething with indignation, an enticing aroma wafted over.
It was the smell of meat.
Mixed with the sweet freshness of rice and the rich savor of sauce.
Asuma's stomach ungracefully rumbled.
Only then did he realize it was lunchtime.
Several large dining carts were pushed into the construction site.
Opening the insulated compartments of the carts, steaming barrels of food were brought out.
The dishes weren't luxurious.
But the portions were generous.
"Lunchtime!"
At the foreman's shout, the craftsmen cheered, dropping their tools and rushing over with their large bowls.
"My goodness, what day is it today? The food is so good!"
"The daimyo sympathizes with our hard work and specifically ordered extra food!"
"Long live the daimyo!"
"Look, what's that? Pork! I haven't had it in half a month!"
The craftsmen lined up. Each person's bowl was piled high with food. Their faces beamed with happiness and satisfaction.
Nara Shikato and his team also stopped working. Each of them was so tired they could barely stand, leaning on each other as they walked over.
Seeing the abundant food, Akimichi Hayama's eyes widened.
"Wow! Meat! Meat! Meat! I feel full of energy!"
He was the first to rush forward. His enormous appetite made the serving staff's wrists ache.
The others followed with smiles.
Even Hyuga Hizashi, seeing the steaming hot food, showed a hint of softness on his usually stern face.
He took two portions, walked to the base of the tower, and called up.
"Natsume, come down and eat!"
Uchiha Natsume on the tower's peak responded. With a few flashes, he descended.
The two silently walked to the side, sat down, and ate quietly.
Just then, Nara Shikato approached Asuma, carrying two meal trays.
"Have some." He offered one of the trays.
Asuma immediately turned his head away, saying coldly, "I'm not hungry."
"Grrr..."
His stomach's renewed protest made the situation quite awkward.
Nara Shikato didn't mind. He sat down beside Asuma, picked up his chopsticks, and leisurely began to eat.
He didn't persuade him further, simply stating calmly, "I know what you're thinking."
"You think it's a waste to use battle-hardened shinobi like us, to use the Hyuga's Byakugan and the Uchiha's Sharingan, in a place like this."
"You think a shinobi's glory should be forged on the battlefield with the enemy's blood."
Nara Shikato's voice was soft, as if merely stating a fact.
"Isn't it?!" Asuma's voice was laced with suppressed anger. His tone was stiff. "We are Konoha's sword and shield! Not craftsmen! Don't you think it's ridiculous to have jonin building walls?!"
Nara Shikato picked up a piece of meat, put it in his mouth, and slowly chewed.
After swallowing, he looked up at Asuma. "Asuma, do you remember that extermination mission we undertook on the border of the Land of Grass last autumn?"
"Of course I remember. Why do you ask?"
Nara Shikato continued on his own. "After the mission, on our way back, we passed through a village and encountered a heavy rainstorm."
"Half of that village was destroyed by a flash flood."
"Your squad, and our squad, both witnessed firsthand how heartbroken a mother was, crying while holding her child's corpse."
Asuma's breathing hitched slightly. That memory immediately became vivid.
Nara Shikato looked at him. His gaze sharpened. "Tell me, Asuma."
"To that mother, is there a difference between being killed by an enemy shinobi and being crushed by a flimsy house washed away in a flash flood?"
"..." Asuma opened his mouth, unable to speak.
"No difference." Nara Shikato answered for him. "The result is always a broken family and shattered lives."
"One killer is a visible enemy."
"The other is an invisible enemy, such as natural disasters..."
"We go to the battlefield to use ninjutsu to eliminate those visible enemies."
"And now, here, we are using the same ninjutsu to eliminate those invisible enemies."
He pointed to the rows of sturdy houses before them.
"The houses built here will allow tens of thousands of people to no longer fear wind, rain, and mountain floods for decades to come."
"Every drop of sweat we shed here today will save far more lives than the enemies we kill on the battlefield."
Nara Shikato sighed softly. "So, Asuma, this has never been a conflict."
"Fighting on the battlefield is protection."
"Building houses here is also protection."
"It's just a different battlefield, a different kind of enemy."
He paused, then looked towards the daimyo manor. "I suppose the daimyo wanted to tell us this by having us come here."
This sentence made Asuma's mind buzz.
He was completely stunned.
Nara Shikato picked up his chopsticks again. "Don't think so much!"
With food in his mouth, he mumbled indistinctly, "The daimyo merely pointed out another way to defeat the enemy for us guys who are used to cutting people down."
"And... the food here is really good."
Having said that, he no longer paid attention to Asuma, focusing on his lunch.
Asuma stood frozen. His mind was filled with that phrase—a different battlefield, a different kind of enemy.
Just then, a soft sound, mixed with a gasp, interrupted his thoughts.