The Seventh Police Division office was quiet.
Uchiha Yoru moved through the paperwork with practiced ease, pen gliding across documents, stamps landing cleanly and decisively. In less than half an hour, he finished what normally took other shinobi half a day—or longer.
Uchiha Shisui, watching from the side, handed over two more files with a grin."Yoru-niisan, these still need your signature."
Yoru glanced at them and shook his head lightly."Shisui, you should start handling this yourself. Sooner or later, you'll be one of the Police Force's core figures."
Shisui laughed awkwardly. Being praised was one thing, but paperwork was another matter entirely. He had spent full days wrestling with administrative details, only to end up redoing everything. Watching Yoru clear an entire workload in minutes felt unreal.
Yoru skimmed the documents, then frowned."The detention center needs additional funding? Expansion?"
Shisui nodded and explained."With the borders stabilizing, many shinobi have been reassigned back from the front. Some of them… aren't adapting well."
He didn't need to say more. Veterans returning from constant combat carried tension, trauma, and habits forged on the battlefield. Peace didn't come easily.
"They're Konoha's contributors," Yoru said, his voice firm. "They shouldn't be treated like criminals. If they came back from the front, they're our responsibility."
He tapped the file lightly."Classify disturbances as minor offenses where possible. Let families mediate when they can. If there's no family, the Police Force steps in. Compensation first, reconciliation second."
"If there's loss of life," he added calmly, "then prison is unavoidable. But make it clear that the sentence depends on restitution and cooperation. Give them a path forward."
"Those already detained should be held in our division's facilities," Yoru continued. "And they are not to be treated as ordinary criminals. They made mistakes, not betrayals."
Shisui listened closely, nodding in earnest. The office doors were open, and plenty of shinobi overheard the conversation. Instead of resentment, relief spread quietly through the building.
This wasn't leniency. It was understanding.
"Second file," Shisui said. "Expanded patrol zones. We need revised schedules and increased frequency."
Yoru read it once, then responded without hesitation."Add three patrol teams. Increase night patrols by five rotations. Raise pay temporarily."
He leaned back slightly."After ten at night, focus on taverns, gambling houses, and red-light districts. Don't provoke. Just make your presence known."
The logic was simple. Visibility reduced incidents better than punishment ever could.
"One more thing," Yoru added. "Request access to the Police Force's training grounds. Veterans need an outlet. We control most of the outer training fields anyway."
Shisui's eyes lit up."I'll submit it immediately."
To him, these problems had seemed insurmountable. In Yoru's hands, they unraveled cleanly.
Yoru, however, felt no pride. Only caution.
Konoha looked stable, but that stability was fragile. The village believed the war era was over, that the next decade would be peaceful. They were wrong. When Orochimaru fell from grace, the shock would ripple through the entire village.
And when war returned, these very shinobi would be sent back to the front.
For now, though, goodwill mattered.
At her desk, Uzuki Yūgao worked efficiently, her expression composed. Only those who knew her well noticed the moments of distraction, the quiet heaviness behind her eyes.
"Yūgao, are you feeling alright?" asked a woman nearby.
It was Nakata Mika, a widow whose husband had died during the Third War. She now held a light administrative post.
"I'm fine, Mika-san," Yūgao replied with a strained smile.
Mika studied her for a moment, unconvinced."That look doesn't fool me. What's troubling you?"
Yūgao hesitated. She shouldn't involve her. But Mika had already been marked by ANBU attention. The trap was already set.
Her shoulders slumped."My father… left behind a lot of debt."
Mika's eyes widened."That much?"
Yūgao nodded weakly."I'm just a chunin. Even with steady B-rank missions, it would take years."
Mika sighed."You're underestimating the cost of being a shinobi. Gear, medicine, jutsu materials… and B-rank missions aren't solo jobs. Even if you survive them, how many can you really take in a year?"
Yūgao's face paled further."I'll manage. I'm still young. Maybe by twenty-five…"
"Twenty-five?" Mika shook her head. "By then, your best years will be gone."
The words hit harder than any reprimand.
"Mika-san," Yūgao said quietly, desperation slipping through, "you've seen more of this world than I have. You must know a way. If I can get past this… I'll listen to you."
Mika fell silent.
They moved to a quiet corner outside the building. After checking that no one was nearby, Mika spoke again.
"You've heard rumors about me, haven't you?"
Yūgao stiffened.
Mika smiled faintly."They're not all wrong. He treats me well. He looks after my child. After my husband died, the compensation only ensured my child would walk the same dangerous road."
She exhaled slowly."Without bloodlines or secret techniques, civilians have no foundation. Talent alone isn't enough."
Then she looked straight at Yūgao."You're young. You're talented. And you're beautiful."
Yūgao froze.
"In this world," Mika continued evenly, "those things are power. Powerful clans look for women like you. If you choose carefully, your future—and your child's—can change."
She hesitated, then said the words clearly."Our division captain comes from a major clan. He's young. Capable. Even if it doesn't last, he wouldn't abandon you."
"It's your chance," Mika said softly. "Maybe the only one."
Yūgao stood there, unable to move.
She knew, in that moment, that this wasn't just advice.
It was the path ANBU had prepared for her.