I, Uchiha, will not be whitewashed!

Chapter 81 Debt!

Konoha Village has entered an unprecedented period of peace.

There have been no more major wars between the five major powers, and border frictions have been reduced to a minimum.

Shops opened one after another on the street, children chased and played on the playground, and there were always flowers in front of the memorial stone under the Fire Shadow Rock, but few people knew the stories behind those names anymore.

Peace is real, and so is prosperity.

But Schöger knew that another war had never stopped.

The lights in the secret hideout burned all night, and the "Shadow's" mission logs were piled up a foot high.

Some infiltrated the Land of Fire to gather intelligence, some intercepted forbidden scrolls on the black market, and some died in the desolate mountains hundreds of miles from the village, unable to even bring back their bodies.

These things won't appear in the newspapers, won't be mentioned in villagers' gossip, and won't even be engraved on the memorial stone.

Only the light still burning late at night in the Hokage's office knows what they've done.

Minato has matured considerably. The Hokage, now in his thirties, has a deeper look in his eyes than he did in his youth.

Naruto would occasionally bring him food to the Hokage Building. He would accept it with a smile, and after Naruto left, he would put it on the table and continue reviewing documents. By the time he remembered it, it was already cold.

More than ten years have passed. Minato has gone from a dazzling young man on the battlefield to the Hokage sitting at his desk reviewing documents. His Flying Thunder God kunai is stored in a drawer, unused for a long time.

But Shuoge knew that every night when he got home, he would take it out and wipe it clean. There was no dust on the blade, but he wiped it again and again.

Naruto has grown into a teenager, wearing a headband and an orange tracksuit, running around the streets, shouting that he wants to become Hokage.

He didn't know that his father had once single-handedly fought through an army of thousands on the battlefield, he didn't know that his mother had given her life to save him, and he didn't know how many people had shielded him from the storms of life in those dark times.

All he knew was that his father was very busy, so busy that he didn't have time to eat a bowl of ramen with him.

Shuoge stood atop Fire Shadow Rock, looking down at the village. The sun shone brightly, people bustled about the streets, and children laughed. His sword was behind him, his hands hung at his sides; he had been standing there for a long time.

Shisui walked over from behind. "Sakugo-nii, Itachi sent word that Akatsuki's activities have become increasingly frequent lately. They're completely disregarding the Five Great Nations; as long as there's a mission that can make money, Akatsuki will accept it without hesitation."

Shuoge took the scroll, unfolded it, glanced at it, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"understood."

He didn't turn around, nor did he ask any more questions.

Everything went as expected.

Uchiha clan headquarters, clan head's hall.

The candlelight flickered, and the shadow of the family crest on the fan-shaped wall swayed in the firelight.

Fugaku sat in the main seat, a cup of tea in front of him, the tea already cold. He didn't drink it, but just watched the tea leaves stand up and then sink back down.

Shuoge sat opposite him, his knife resting against the chair, his mask tucked into his waistband. He had just returned from the Dark Guard; his clothes still bore traces of blood—not his, but the enemy's.

Fugaku didn't ask, and Sakugo didn't mention it either.

-

"Sasuke is graduating." Fugaku's voice was low.

Shuoge did not speak.

"After the class assignments, he'll be with Kakashi." Fugaku paused. "Kakashi is a Jonin, strong enough. But he's not an Uchiha."

Shuoge looked at him.

Fugaku's voice was flat, as if he were stating something very ordinary. "Itachi is gone. You let him go. Now, you're giving me back."

Shuoge did not speak.

"Sasuke's talent isn't as good as Itachi's, but it can't be too bad either." Fugaku picked up his teacup, took a sip—it was cold. He put the cup down. "I know Sasuke can't catch up to Itachi. But if you teach him, at least he won't go astray."

The candlelight flickered. Shuoge tapped his finger lightly on the hilt of his knife.

"Let's change the terms."

Shuoge didn't want to be a nanny and take care of children.

His personality is also unsuitable.

"You owe me a fine son," Fugaku said, looking at him.

Shuoge: "

"understood."

Shuoge stood up, hung the knife on his back, and walked towards the door. He stopped at the door without turning back.

"Have him come to see me in three days."

He left. Fugaku sat in the hall, watching his figure disappear through the doorway. The candlelight flickered again and went out. The hall was plunged into darkness.

Three days later, at the Ninja Academy.

Sasuke walked out of the school gate, hands in his pockets, expressionless. He walked quickly, not alongside anyone. Sakura called to him from behind, but he didn't turn around. Naruto was waiting for him ahead, but he walked past him.

Zhi Shui stood under a tree by the roadside and called out to him.

"Sasuke."

Sasuke stopped and looked at Shisui. Shisui was a head taller than him, wearing a Jonin vest, his face expressionless, but his eyes were gentle.

"Brother Shuoge said you should visit him when you have time."

Sasuke's brow furrowed. "What do you want with me?"

"Training," Shisui said softly. "Don't you want to become stronger?"

Sasuke was silent for a moment. "When?"

"Now."

Sasuke followed Shisui. Sakura stood in the distance, watching his retreating figure, her knuckles white as she clutched her lunchbox. Naruto squatted by the roadside, drawing a frog on the ground with a twig.

Training Course.

Sakugo stood in the center of the open space, his sword behind his back, his hands hanging at his sides. The setting sun cast a long shadow over him. Sasuke walked in and stood before him.

"I am coming."

Shuoge glanced at him. "Have you awakened your Sharingan?"

Sasuke shook his head.

"Come again after it's open."

He turned and left. Sasuke stood there, watching his figure disappear outside the training ground.

Shisui walked over and stood next to Sasuke.

"Don't mind him, that's just his personality."

Sasuke didn't speak. He turned and walked towards the Uchiha compound. His hands were in his pockets, and his chin was slightly raised. After a few steps, he stopped without looking back.

"Is he very strong?"

"Very strong." Shisui's voice was soft. "Stronger than you imagined."

Sasuke stood there, watching Sakugo's figure disappear outside the training ground.

The sun had set, leaving only a dark red glow on the horizon.

He was the only one left on the training field.

He walked up to the target, pulled a kunai from his ninja tool pouch, and threw it. It landed on the edge of the bullseye, but missed.

He gritted his teeth and threw another one. It went even further off course.

My hands are shaking, not from tiredness, but from frustration.

Itachi's face kept flashing through his mind. When he was a child, Itachi taught him how to throw a shuriken, holding his hand and saying, "Don't rotate your wrist."

Back then, Itachi could still smile, though it was a very faint smile.

Later, Itachi stopped laughing. Then, Itachi left. His clan members said Itachi was a traitor, jealous of Sakugo, and ran away after losing. Sasuke didn't believe it. But he didn't know what to believe.

He threw another kunai, which landed on the bullseye.

The sound was crisp and echoed briefly in the empty training field.

He stared at the bullseye for a long time, then threw the bullseye one by one until his wrists ached and the skin between his thumb and forefinger was raw.

He planted kunai all over the target, each one hitting the bullseye, but he was still not satisfied. Not fast enough, not accurate enough, not strong enough. He wanted to become stronger, strong enough to bring Itachi back.

So powerful that it silences everyone.

He stopped, carefully removing the kunai one by one from the target and putting them back into his ninja tool pouch. Moonlight shone on the bullseye, and the densely packed holes gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

He stood there for a while, then turned and left.

The training field was deserted. Only the sound of the wind whistling through the targets could be heard, a mournful wail, like someone crying.