After a few uneventful deliveries that I counted as lucky, I reached the final stop on my route. It was not the kind of place most shinobi got assigned to. A wide, low building with polished wooden doors and red silk curtains marked the entrance. The sound of clinking coins, shuffling cards, and the occasional burst of laughter spilled out into the street.
Inside, it was all warm lamplight and smoke with a strange, heavy scent I couldn't place. Tables sat in neat rows, each one holding a game in progress. Some were dice. Others were tiles. But the biggest crowd was gathered around a long table in the center.
That was where I spotted her, the delivery recipient. A sharp-eyed woman stood behind the counter, her fitted red dress catching the lamplight with subtle gold embroidery along the hem and sleeves. The tailoring gave her an air of deliberate elegance, the color radiating both confidence and the quiet promise of luck. A deck of cards danced between her fingers like they weighed nothing. She did not so much shuffle as make the cards perform, flipping them, cutting them, and snapping them back together in smooth, precise motions.
I stepped forward, holding out the sealed letter.
"Delivery from the Hokage," I said.
She did not look up. "Put it on the table."
I frowned. "I need you to sign for it."
That got her attention. One eyebrow arched, and she leaned back in her chair.
"Then you will have to earn it, shinobi boy. Quick game. One hand. My game, my rules. You win, I stamp your little paper. You lose, you buy the table a round for my stamp."
The crowd chuckled. Someone clapped me on the shoulder. "Go on, kid. Let's see what you've got."
I looked at the clock on the wall. I had finished much faster than Sena anticipated, and apparently, she did not have the full updated report on my speed after all.
In my previous life, I had loved games like this. Not for the money, but for the rhythm, the read, the dance of psychology. I loved the way risk felt, the edge of fear mixed with anticipation, the wonder of whether you would win and take it all or lose and stew in regret. That dance was rare, intoxicating, the few times I let myself indulge in it. I had never been able to truly dive in, revenge had left little room for hobbies. But now I had enough of a window to play her game and still make it back before the delivery deadline. A hobby to pick up again, and a little extra money would not hurt either.
I sat down.
The cards came out in a blur, her hands moving like a practiced illusion. I did not watch the cards. I watched her wrists, her breathing, the way her eyes slid past mine when she thought she was in control. Most people thought the game was about luck or the cards in your hand. That was a factor, but not the biggest one. It was mostly about turning the other person into a mirror, showing them exactly what you wanted them to see until they believed it was their own reflection.
So, I gave her a performance. A flicker of tension here, the faintest curl of a smirk there, playing the role of an inexperienced young shinobi who was way over his head and could not hide his feelings well enough. I let her think she was reading me perfectly. I leaned back when my hand was strong, forward when it was weak, then reversed it a round later. A slow drip of false patterns until her confidence began to swell. Confidence dulled the edges, and I wanted her sharp enough to think she was winning but relaxed enough to let me take the blade from her hand without her noticing.
Just bait and bleed until the moment came to close the trap.
Ten minutes later, I was the one leaning back while the crowd roared. My hand was perfect. Her smile was still in place but tighter now, her eyes busy with calculation.
"Well," she said, pushing the stamp across the table. "Looks like the Hokage hires people with more than one kind of skill."
I grabbed it and pressed the stamp to the paper myself, not willing to waste a moment since I was already cutting it close. Sliding the sealed letter toward her, I pushed back my chair and stood.
As I walked out, I heard someone mutter, "I think the kid could have taken her for a lot more."
They were not wrong. An old, dangerous smile crept onto my face, one that reminded me far too much of my old self. The familiarity of it startled me, and I shook my head, trying to clear the rush and focus on more important matters. But deep down, I knew I wanted to return someday. To play again. To win more. To feel that rush dig in deeper until it became part of me.
I was already done with my deliveries, so I took the route back to the meeting point as a chance to breathe in some cold air and clear my head. I distracted myself by thinking about Sena and Kaen. The idea of Kaen being on my team still felt strange. He was stubborn, confrontational, and not exactly the cooperative type. There had to be a reason behind his behavior. Maybe with time, I could adapt, maybe even reach a point where we could at least tolerate each other. I wanted the team to succeed to repay Hirotaka's favor, help Sena start her shinobi life with a strong record, and get the village more invested in my future potential. That meant more jutsu, more resources.
I reached the meeting point to find Sena trying to engage Kaen in small talk. He stood there, clearly uninterested, ignoring most of her attempts while looking faintly irritated. It was odd, since she was not criticizing him or anything like that, she was just trying to talk.
Shisui was observing them and then turned to me when I arrived.
"I made it to all the delivery areas, all stamped."
I handed the paper to Shisui, who smiled. "Good job, Noa. I'm impressed."
I scratched my head. "Thank you, sensei."
He nodded and ushered us to follow him to the mission desk. After some walking, we reached it. Shisui handed the mission completion report to the clerk, who looked mildly annoyed but still accepted it with a quiet, "Thank you, Shisui, for the good work." Then we left.
Once we were outside the Hokage building, Shisui glanced at us.
"Good work on today's mission, team. Sena, Noa, go home and rest. Tomorrow, we meet at the same place as today, same time."
We both nodded and began to leave, but Shisui stopped Kaen with a hand on his shoulder.
"I need to talk to you, Kaen."
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***Shisui's POV
I waited until Noa and Sena were gone before tightening my grip on Kaen's shoulder.
"Walk with me."
He did not argue, but his steps were slow. We moved through the quieter back streets until the noise of the village faded. A closed tea shop sat ahead, the soft rush of a nearby stream adding to the quiet.
I turned to him. "Why don't you like Noa?"
Kaen looked away. "I just don't."
I held his gaze. "That's not much of an answer."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "He… acts like he's better than me."
"Is that the only reason?"
Kaen's lips pressed into a thin line. "He fights like he knows everything. Like there's nothing I can do to match him. And every time I try, he's already ahead."
I nodded slowly. "Maybe he is ahead in some things. But that doesn't make him your enemy."
Kaen gave a short, sharp breath. "Feels like it sometimes."
"Or maybe," I said, "you're letting pride make the call for you."
"And what's wrong with that? The way Konoha treats us, pride's about all we've got left sometimes."
"Pride's fine," I replied, "until it blinds you to what your team can be. You three are going to depend on each other. That's not just about skill. It's about trust."
Kaen crossed his arms, still looking away. "Trust isn't given. It's earned."
"Then give him a chance to earn it. And earn his in return."
His eyes shifted back to me. "And if he still thinks he's better?"
I shrugged. "Then prove him wrong. Not just for you, but for the clan."
That got his attention.
"What's the clan got to do with it?"
"Everything," I said. "There are people who think they already know what the Uchiha are. Some outside the clan believe we are cold and distant, holding on to old grudges. And some inside the clan believe the village will never accept us. That kind of thinking builds walls. Every time you choose teamwork over grudges, people see more than just your name. They see an Uchiha they can count on. That changes how the village sees us."
Kaen was quiet for a moment. "Sounds like a slow way to change anything."
"It's harder than any jutsu. It takes time. And if enough of us walk that road, we can reshape how the clan is seen. I am doing my part. I want you to do yours."
Kaen's jaw tightened, his gaze flicking away toward the stream. "You make it sound simple. Just… trust him and everything works out." His voice came out like a snap. "What if I do that and he does what the village did to us, accuse us of something we didn't do, treat us like we're guilty, and push us aside like we're a ticking bomb? What if I end up looking like a fool?"
"I can't promise it will be easy," I said, my tone steady. "But if you never take that step, you'll never know if someone could have stood with you."
He looked down at the ground, then back at me, his voice carrying hesitation and a hint of irritation. "I'll think about it."
Maybe it was nothing, but I thought I saw the tension in his jaw ease by a fraction.
That was enough for now. A seed was planted.