The next morning, just after sunrise, Uchiha Munetsuki finished breakfast, cleaned up, and prepared to head to the Hokage Tower.
"Morning, Brother Munetsuki."
The greeting came the moment he stepped outside. He nearly walked straight into a boy standing in the doorway.
Munetsuki looked down. The child was around twelve or thirteen, with messy, spiky black hair and oversized goggles that covered half his face. There was a rough innocence about him that hadn't yet been worn away by the world.
Obito Uchiha.
Munetsuki recognized him instantly. Not as the boy he was now, but as the man he would become—one of the most infamous figures in shinobi history, the architect behind the Fourth Shinobi World War.
"Up early, Obito," Munetsuki said calmly, lifting a hand to ruffle the boy's hair. "What brings you here?"
Obito flushed, hesitating. "Uh… I wanted to try it. That thing you do. The… making-wishes-come-true thing."
Munetsuki raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "My services aren't cheap. Even the most basic session costs at least fifty thousand ryō. Do you have that?"
"Of course I do!" Obito straightened up proudly and pulled out a thick stack of bills. "I earned it doing missions. Don't underestimate me!"
Munetsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. You're a genin now."
He'd been so busy lately that he'd barely tracked how far events had progressed. Still, if Obito had already graduated, it meant the timeline was moving quickly. The Third Shinobi World War was no longer a distant future.
"I graduated ages ago!" Obito protested. "Stop treating me like a kid!"
"I hear you," Munetsuki said with a faint smile, rubbing Obito's head again. "But not today. I'm on my way to see the Hokage. Next time."
A brief flicker of information passed through Munetsuki's awareness, and Obito's intention became obvious enough.
Obito's shoulders slumped. "Oh… okay."
"Next time," Munetsuki repeated. "I'll give you a discount. Thirty thousand."
Obito's gloom vanished instantly. "Really?! Thank you, Brother Munetsuki!"
Munetsuki waved him off and headed toward the village center.
The streets of Konoha were already lively. As he walked, Munetsuki kept his hands in his pockets, adjusting to the lingering aftereffects of a recent change within himself. His perception felt sharper, almost overflowing. He was restraining it as best he could, but it would take time to fully settle.
Behind his glasses, his eyes were dark and unfathomable, like still water concealing a deep whirlpool. Without that thin barrier of glass, a single glance would have been enough to draw passersby into a dangerous mental spiral.
"I still need tighter control," he murmured.
The world shifted subtly in his vision. Emotional traces bled into the air—reds, yellows, blues—overlapping like dye spreading through water. Where once he could only sense emotional surface currents, he now perceived far deeper layers of thought and intent.
Fragments of conversation drifted over from the roadside.
"Did you hear about it?"
"I did. I can't believe it's real."
"What a waste…"
Munetsuki slowed.
A quiet pulse of influence flowed outward, subtle and irresistible. The two villagers froze, their thoughts momentarily stalled.
"What are you talking about?" Munetsuki asked gently.
"Hatake Sakumo," one of them replied blankly. "He… took his own life at home."
Munetsuki paused.
So this was the year. Konoha Year Forty-Four.
Only four years remained until the Third Shinobi World War.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "Then I can't afford to move slowly anymore."
He released his influence and continued toward the Hokage Tower at a brisk pace. Wars created chaos—and chaos created opportunity. If he missed this one, he would be forced to wait more than a decade for the next opening.
That was unacceptable.
At the Hokage Tower, Munetsuki stopped outside the office door and knocked.
"Hokage-sama, Uchiha Munetsuki reporting."
"Come in."
The voice inside was firm, aged but steady.
Munetsuki entered and immediately noted the presence of a second figure. Danzo Shimura sat off to the side.
His brows tightened for a split second—then relaxed.
"Hokage-sama. Danzo-sama," Munetsuki said, offering a polite bow.
Behind the desk sat the Third Hokage, still in his prime. He hadn't yet become the weary, compromised figure history would remember. There was strength in him still—ambition, authority.
The Hokage regarded Munetsuki through a haze of smoke. "Uchiha Munetsuki. I remember you. Multiple missions where you stayed behind to protect your team. Exceptional completion rates. Skilled in medical ninjutsu. A rare jōnin indeed."
"Thank you, Hokage-sama," Munetsuki replied modestly, scratching the back of his head. "I only did what was expected of me."
"A fine attitude," the Hokage said with approval. "When I look at you, I see the future of Konoha. The will passed down from the First Hokage survives because of shinobi like you."
Munetsuki's expression brightened with what looked like genuine emotion. "I won't disappoint you. I'll protect this village and everyone in it—even if it costs me my life."
The Hokage nodded, clearly pleased. "You already think from the village's perspective. That alone puts you ahead of many."
"Please don't praise me too highly," Munetsuki said shyly. "I've only tried to learn from your guidance."
The Hokage laughed heartily.
Danzo did not.
He let out a sharp, dismissive snort.
Munetsuki felt it instantly—a dense, smoldering hostility, dark and suffocating. Danzo's gaze carried no disguise.
Munetsuki was baffled. They had barely interacted over the years. And yet the man's resentment burned fiercely.
The Hokage glanced at Danzo, displeased, but said nothing. Instead, he turned back to Munetsuki.
"I'm glad you're willing to join Anbu," he said. "An operative will escort you shortly. Familiarize yourself with the structure. We'll discuss the rest later."
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
Munetsuki bowed once more and exited the office, his expression calm, his thoughts anything but.