Chapter 11: The Village
A few days later, when they met again in the quiet hallway of the Hokage Tower, Itachi's gaze lingered on Shūji's face for a moment.
"You look tired, Senpai," he said softly, his eyes noting the faint, dark circles under Shūji's.
"Hm. Training." Shūji rubbed the bridge of his nose, barely suppressing a yawn. "The money's in. Let's go. Yakiniku Q. We'll split it while we eat."
Itachi was already used to this. He had told his mother where he was going before he left the house.
The two blended into the noisy evening streets, the air gradually filling with the enticing aroma of grilled meat. Shūji walked ahead, humming a tuneless melody, while Itachi followed a quiet half-step behind.
He found this kind of interaction strangely relaxing. Around Shūji, there were no scrutinizing stares treating him like a "genius specimen," and no heavy weight of expectation pressing down on him. It was as if he were just a normal kid.
The barbecue restaurant was bursting with smoky energy.
The slices of pork belly hit the hot grill and immediately let out a cheerful sizzle. Fat dripped down, kicking up tiny sparks. With lightning speed, Shūji snatched a piece that was perfectly cooked—its edges slightly charred and glistening—dipped it generously in the dark-brown sauce, and impatiently shoved it into his mouth.
The scalding-hot juices and savory-sweet sauce exploded on his tongue. The exhaustion built up from days of training seemed to be washed away by that single, powerful bite of flavor.
"Haaah..." He let out a satisfied breath, his eyes narrowed. He grilled another piece to the same perfection and, in one natural motion, placed it on Itachi's plate. "Eat up. You're still growing."
"Are you working on a new jutsu, Senpai?" Itachi asked, looking at the fragrant meat.
"Something like that. It's not going well," Shūji replied vaguely, grabbing another piece for himself. "What about you? What have you been practicing?"
"Taijutsu, ninjutsu, and shuriken-jutsu," Itachi said, picking up his chopsticks, "with a senior from my clan."
"Uchiha Shisui?"
Itachi's movement paused, almost imperceptibly. He looked up at Shūji. "You know Shisui, Senpai?"
"Aside from you, the record-holder who graduated in a single year, his name is the most famous one in the Uchiha clan." Shūji calmly took a sip of his barley tea. "I've heard of him. Don't know him."
After a few rounds of meat, the emptiness in his stomach was replaced by a solid satisfaction. Shūji wiped his mouth and got down to business. "The payment was confirmed. That Suna-nin's sealing scroll... they counted just over ten million ryō inside."
That was enough money to post over a dozen high-level A-Rank missions in any of the Five Great Shinobi Villages. A normal Chūnin might not save that much in their entire career.
"Senpai." Itachi put down his chopsticks, his dark eyes clear and focused. "That Suna-nin... why did he betray his own village?"
Shūji didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked, "What is a village, to you?"
Itachi thought for a moment and gave the textbook answer. "It's the place where shinobi live, accept missions, and protect one another."
Shūji nodded, his gaze drifting to the thousands of lights flickering to life outside the window, as if he were seeing through the dust of time. "In the beginning, Konoha was just a plot of land where the Senju and Uchiha agreed to live after ending their blood feud."
"When the two strongest clans in the shinobi world shook hands and even became neighbors..." He tapped the table with his chopstick. "...the other clans in the Land of Fire lost any other choice. No single clan could stand against an alliance of those two. For the sake of survival, their only option was to join Konoha."
Itachi's back straightened unconsciously.
The glorious history of the village's founding he had been taught in the Academy was now, in Shūji's flat retelling, stripped of its idealistic robes, revealing a cold, pragmatic foundation: the threat of annihilation and the balance of power.
"And when the vast majority of the Land of Fire's clans had gathered here," Shūji continued, "this place naturally became the nation's sole, and strongest, military pillar. The local feudal lords, even the Daimyō's court, could no longer do what they did in the Warring States Period—easily manipulating clans into killing each other for their own benefit."
On the grill, a thick piece of meat dripped fat onto the coals, letting out a loud pop and a puff of white smoke.
"So, in the beginning," Shūji pulled his gaze back, looking at Itachi, "the 'village' was more like a platform. A platform that allowed these clans to cooperate under a set of relatively safe rules, while also competing within those same rules."
"The Konoha of that time was, in essence, just a settlement of a dozen-plus clans, all huddling together for warmth."
"Until..." Shūji's eyes sharpened. "The Senju clan voluntarily disbanded, and the village began to absorb orphans and wandering shinobi with no clan backing. And after the Nidaime established the Anbu..." He paused, seeming to choose his words. "...that was when the village truly gained its own foundation of power, one that no longer relied entirely on the clans. A power that answered only to the village itself."
Outside their private room, the footsteps of a server carrying a tray faded into the distance, leaving a brief silence.
"That change was critical," Shūji's voice grew lower. "The clans were no longer the village's only component. Once the basic pressure of survival was lifted, the suppressed individual desires and ambitions of shinobi... began to surface. And some of those ambitions..." He picked up his teacup, staring at the amber liquid. "...were fated to clash, irreconcilably, with the collective 'village'."
The barbecue smoke wafted between them, blurring their expressions.
"Senpai, you said before that being a shinobi is just a job to you," Itachi pressed. "In that case, what is your view on 'missing-nin'?"
Shūji's expression was neutral. "Normally, I see them as enemies. Because under the village system, shinobi are strictly bound by rules. They can't just attack ordinary people whenever they want."
He picked up a piece of meat grilled to a perfect char and dipped it in sauce. "Ordinary people can farm, run shops, and live their lives in peace. The harm is controlled. The economy can grow, life can get better, and good things like this..." He pointed at the sizzling grill and the table full of food. "...will become more andd more common."
"But a missing-nin, like that Suna-nin," Shūji's tone shifted, "he fled his village to pursue what he thought was a better life. On the surface, that seems understandable. But in reality..." He gave a small, cold laugh.
"And that was just one Chūnin, a cautious one who was still afraid of the village's power and didn't dare go too far." Shūji looked Itachi in the eye, speaking each word clearly. "If you run into the ones who are truly reckless, who have no morals, who treat human life like grass..."
He paused, taking a drink of tea, his throat bobbing.
"I just want to eat a good meal in peace. If someone insists on smashing the pot..." He set his cup down, the clack of it hitting the table sounding clear and sharp. "Within my power, I will stop them."
Itachi listened in silence, his small fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm rim of his own teacup.
"Senpai, do you think," Itachi began carefully after a moment, his voice even softer, "that the village system can maintain this... order... forever?"
Shūji's gaze went back to the window.
The dusk had settled, and Konoha's streets were lit by warm lights, outlining the silhouettes of people heading home. "No system is perfect, Itachi."
"The key is whether it brings about a better result than the era before it. As for the village system..."
"From the perspective of ending the Warring States and reducing pointless slaughter, it is, without a doubt, a more competitive model than scattered, warring clans."
Shūji looked back at the boy across the table. "This 'village' platform gives shinobi a place to belong, a 'home,' and it cuts down on the endless, wasteful infighting between clans. But it also brings new restrictions... and new conflicts."
"Under any system, there will always be conflicts that can't be completely eliminated. The desires of the individual shinobi versus the good of the village, the traditions of a clan versus the unified will of the village... These are all problems the village must face, and they can't be avoided. They just have to be solved and balanced, one generation after another."
"Senpai," Itachi seemed to have caught something, "then... within the village, is the existence of a strong clan... inherently a bad thing?"
"Not entirely," Shūji stated his view. "In fact, to a certain extent, the village needs the clans."
"Especially for those families with unique Kekkai Genkai. The clan itself is the most effective way to protect and pass down those precious abilities."
"You could even say that the clans' existence actually lessens the village's burden of training special talents and protecting secret jutsu. In a way, it also eases the potential for direct conflict between a powerful individual with a Kekkai Genkai and the rules of the village as a whole."
He picked up a piece of lettuce, wrapped a piece of grilled meat in it, his tone calm but firm. "However, a clan's power must never be allowed to grow too large, and it can never be placed above the village. After all..."
"Looking at the facts, in the seas of blood from three great shinobi wars, many of the heroes who stepped up to protect the village came from families with no famous Kekkai Genkai. It is because countless, nameless people like them charged forward, one after another, that the village was able to stand tall through those wars and survive to this day."
Itachi said nothing more.
He looked down at the piece of meat in his dish—the one Shūji had given him, now slightly cool. The warm yellow light of the restaurant glinted off its greasy surface.
The only sounds in the room were the faint crackle of the charcoal and the muffled laughter from the table next door.