Chương 83

The tea had cooled in my hands by the time Hirotaka's final words settled over the room. The silence that followed felt heavy, like morning fog that just wouldn't go away. Nobody spoke, and there didn't seem to be any reason to. Sumire's expression had returned to her usual calm and polite look. It was unreadable, just guarded enough to keep me guessing. Next to her, Sena sat still, watching me. Her eyes looked soft but sharp at the same time, sharp enough to make me feel a little uneasy.

I took my time finishing the last sip, then set the cup back on the polished tray. I made sure not to leave even a single smudge.

"Thank you for the tea," I said, my voice low.

"And for everything else too." Hirotaka gave me that same warm smile he always wore. It looked genuine and kind, but it carried something underneath. Something quiet and heavy that wasn't being said.

"It was truly our pleasure, Noa-kun. You're always welcome here." Sumire gave a slight nod, more habit than warmth. Sena stood and walked with me toward the gate. The hallways we moved through, once filled with elegant seasonal designs and soft lighting, now felt quiet in a different way. It was like the entire place was holding its breath, watching me walk out. When we reached the front entrance, Sena finally spoke.

"They like you," she said, her voice softer than before.

"That's pretty rare." I gave her a dry look and raised an eyebrow.

"I thought this was just a regular social visit." She let out a quiet laugh, not exactly sorry.

"Nothing is ever simple with my family," she said. We stood there a bit longer. Her face was calm, but her eyes stayed on me. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something else. Maybe something I had kept to myself. I came close. I almost asked what she really thought about tonight, or what she truly felt about the offer that had been hinted at. But I stayed quiet.

"I'll see you at the Academy when the new year starts," I said instead. Then I stepped out through the door without turning back. I didn't bring up the other possibility—the chance that I might not be in the same class when we returned. The door closed behind me with a soft sound, and that was that. I walked away from the Yamanaka compound slowly. The warm lights of their mansion faded behind me as the night grew darker. A cool breeze brushed against my shirt.

The streets were quiet, giving me time and space to think. Every moment of that dinner replayed in my head. The food, the carefully chosen words, the polite tone that carried quiet offers beneath the surface. The idea of joining a clan like the Yamanaka wasn't bad. The benefits were real. I'd get access to more training, protection from threats like ROOT, and a solid support system. Being linked to someone like Hirotaka could open a lot of doors.

I'd even be able to learn techniques that weren't offered to outsiders. And if I ever wanted to move into village politics, having a powerful clan backing me would help a lot. But all that support came with a price. My freedom. Once I was part of a clan, I'd be watched constantly. Every decision would be judged. No more keeping secrets. No more quiet progress or hidden strengths. And I'd never know if they truly saw me as a person, or just a tool they could use to get ahead.

That uncertainty wasn't something I could live with. Especially not with Sumire involved. She didn't seem like someone who gave second chances. If using me helped her gain more power or improve her clan's position, she wouldn't hesitate. She'd cut me off without a second thought. Living among people like that, people who smiled while planning their next move behind your back, sounded exhausting. I wouldn't be able to breathe. I'd always be watching, always thinking one step ahead just to stay even.

That wasn't the life I wanted. I let out a tired sigh and shook my head.

"Noa Yamanaka, huh?" I said under my breath.

"Yeah. That's not going to happen." With that settled in my mind, I kept walking through the quiet village streets. Konoha was calm, the night peaceful, but my head was still full. Even with all the silence around me, my thoughts refused to slow down. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Inside the Hokage's office, the mood was completely different from the calm of the Yamanaka estate. The air felt tight, serious, and tense.

Hiruzen stood in front of a large map hanging on the wall, his eyes focused on the border near the Land of Grass. That narrow strip of land sat right between the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth, a spot that had seen more than its fair share of trouble.

"Two days ago," Hiruzen began, his voice steady but serious, "one of our forward operatives was sent to make contact with a Konoha agent stationed near the Land of Earth. The goal was to secure a handover of critical intel about Iwagakure's military status. The designated meeting location is in the Land of Grass. However, our operative suddenly went silent. Given the sensitive political climate, sending a large squad would be risky. The more people we send, the higher the chances they'll get caught.

And if that happens, the fallout could be a disaster for Konoha." He paused for a moment, then looked straight at Daiken. His eyes were firm, but there was also something else behind them, something like guilt.

"We're stretched thin right now". He took a breath, then continued.

"So, I'm sending you. Alone. I don't like doing this, and I know it's another heavy task on your shoulders. But you're one of the few people I trust and can count on to get this done. If the intel is still out there, find it. And if you run into danger, deal with it however you must." Daiken stayed quiet as he looked at the map. His jaw tightened slightly, his sharp eyes following the twisting paths through the hills and valleys leading into the Land of Grass. He didn't show hesitation or worry, only focus.

"Please don't apologize, Hokage-sama," Daiken said calmly.

"I'm ready to handle whatever mission the village needs. If there's any chance the information is still out there, I'll find it and bring it back. Every piece of intel matters right now." Hiruzen gave a small nod, but his face didn't relax. His voice turned more serious than before.

"I don't like how things are moving lately. Too many big missions. Too many sudden threats. It's not random. Someone is pulling strings behind the scenes. We still don't know who they are or what they want, and that makes this situation even more dangerous. So be careful. Don't trust anyone. And if things go bad, your first priority is to get out alive. Don't let pride keep you in a fight. You're one of the strongest shinobi we have left.

After everything the Nine Tails did to the village, we can't afford to lose someone like you." Daiken nodded once, firm and focused. He had clearly taken every word seriously.

"Understood, Hokage-sama," he said with respect. Then he bowed, turned, and disappeared in an instant, without a sound. Left alone in the quiet office, Hiruzen took a slow breath and puffed gently on his pipe. The smoke curled upward while his thoughts stayed heavy, He had a bad feeling about it. From experience, missions of that level didn't come around often, and definitely not this many in such a short time. For some reason, he felt uneasy.

Daiken moved almost nonstop for the next full day, pushing his pace to the limit without draining himself completely. It was a careful balance, one that came from years of experience. As the forests thickened and the smooth roads of the Land of Fire gave way to rough, unfamiliar paths, he knew he was getting close. The trees grew wilder here, and the hills turned steep and uneven. He was entering the Land of Grass. The air felt heavier, the land quieter.

Every step forward brought with it a growing sense of tension. This place had seen battle before. It was written in the broken earth, in the crumbled edges of old trenches, and in the strange silence that clung to everything like dust. The ground became less stable the deeper he went, scattered with forgotten signs of old warzones, rusted traps, half-collapsed bunkers, and jagged concrete scattered with moss and weeds. Some trenches had been overtaken by tree roots, others swallowed by the earth.

The sun barely reached the forest floor. Most of the light filtered through the thick canopy above in broken pieces, painting the ruins in patches of pale gold and deep shadow. It was hard to tell where danger might be hiding. Eventually, Daiken stopped at the edge of a moss-covered ridge. He crouched low and scanned the area below. There, tucked between tall grass and crawling vines, sat an old bunker. It looked abandoned from a distance, with cracked walls and a broken roof, nature claiming it inch by inch.

But there were signs that didn't match the decay. Some grass had been disturbed. There was the faint flash of something metallic, a quick glint that disappeared too fast. More than anything, Daiken could feel something. A presence. Faint chakra, barely there, almost invisible unless you were looking for it. But he was. And he knew the difference between a place that was empty and one that was being used. Maybe the agent was inside and hurt. Maybe they were hiding. Or maybe this was a trap.

Either way, Daiken made a hand sign. He then moved down the slope with steady care, placing each step exactly where it needed to go. No slipping. No noise. No surprises. He kept low, letting the natural terrain cover him as he approached the bunker. When he reached the bottom, he stopped near a damaged support beam, its concrete chipped and dark with old scorch marks. Something had burned here not too long ago. He glanced at the ground. Dried blood. Not fresh, but not ancient either.

Someone had been hurt, maybe worse. Daiken stepped into the open space in front of the bunker. His posture looked relaxed, but every part of him was ready. Muscles coiled, eyes sharp, chakra held just beneath the surface. He didn't know what would happen next, but he would be ready when it came. The wind moved through the grass with a soft whisper, but it brought no answers. Still, Daiken could feel it. That tension in the air. A presence that wasn't his.

Someone else was here, hiding just beyond his sight, waiting and watching. He took a slow breath, let it out, and stepped forward.