The letter had actually been an invitation.
The clan head was inviting all jōnin and chūnin to a banquet—the naming feast for Uchiha Itachi.
The shinobi world also had the idea of a one-month celebration, but here it was called "naming." The meaning was simple: the child had survived, had taken root, and could now be given a name.
If a baby died within the first month, then it was treated as no more than a failed birth.
No name.
No place.
Even if one died before the age of six, it was still considered dying young—but at least that child had come into the world, had left a trace, had a name, and could have a grave marker.
Someone like Uzumaki Naruto, who received his name immediately at birth more than ten years later—
That was a special case born of necessity.
After calming himself, Uchiha Yoru went to the banquet with Miwa Masayo in a perfectly cheerful mood. He offered the proper gift money, then ate and drank his fill. The ingredients on display were all high-grade things he normally couldn't afford, rich in nutrients and excellent for the body.
"Yoru, the ingredients are all amazing, but why does it still feel like your cooking tastes better, meow?"
Miwa Masayo had eaten so much she was lying belly-up across his lap, letting her human knead her stomach for her.
Yoru smiled.
"Because the way I cook is different from everyone else."
"I like using spices to deepen the flavor. Aside from liver, which I leave raw for you to preserve its nutrition, I cook all meat thoroughly. I also use plenty of oil—but I don't drown a single dish in it."
"My approach is balance."
"The cooks here go for extremes."
The food of the shinobi world was, without question, a strange blend of light Japanese-style fare and fast, efficient meal culture. Fine for work meals.
Not exactly ideal for enjoying fine food.
But Fugaku's household had one thing no one could argue with—
The ingredients were exceptional.
Too good.
The moment the food hit his stomach, it was digested almost immediately, then turned into waves of warmth spreading through his limbs, becoming nourishment for his foundation-building body.
"If I could eat like this three times a day, I think I'd see obvious results in one or two months."
"Meow? Yoru, do you really think your changes have been small?"
"Have they been that big?"
"Very. Extremely. If I weren't with you every day, I wouldn't even dare recognize you…"
"But no one in the clan seems to think I've changed."
Miwa Masayo snorted.
"Ha. Yoru, what status do you think you have here?"
"You're a complete nobody. The kind who sits outside the room, at the very edge of the courtyard, tucked into a corner under the wall where no one looks."
"Who would pay attention to you, meow?"
"…Fair point."
"But even my neighbors haven't noticed anything unusual."
"You're really dense, meow. Everyone can tell."
"You've gotten bigger."
She kept chewing while she talked.
"Fine. Maybe to human eyes, it's not that obvious."
"But to us ninja cats, your scent and aura change every single day. It's terrifying."
"Really?"
"You didn't notice? These days, when you walk past those stupid dogs, they don't even bother arguing with me anymore."
Yoru paused.
Then he thought back over the past few days.
She was right.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he called over a passing servant.
"Shigenobu, bring me five more plates of this meat. What is it? It's good."
The servant knew him and answered with a smile.
"Brother Yoru, that's venison from the Nara clan. They say the deer are raised on medicinal herbs."
Then he noticed the stack of empty plates on the table.
His eyes widened.
"Heavens, Brother Yoru… how many plates have you already eaten? Are you really okay?"
"I'm not going to get a nosebleed. Just bring five more."
"…Alright. You're really fine?"
"Fine. And take these plates away while you're at it. They're getting a little conspicuous."
"Understood."
Once Uchiha Shigenobu had gone, Miwa Masayo clicked her tongue.
"My word, you can still eat? Were you starving before or something, meow?"
"Not at all. I was already full before this. It's just that at this stage, I can control my digestion. If the food is good enough, I can keep eating several times more."
"…Of course you can."
She let out a huge yawn, unable to hide her drowsiness anymore.
Yoru lifted the little tabby into his arms and curled her into a ball.
"If you're sleepy, then sleep. Right now, you should follow what your body tells you."
"Alright, meow."
This time, Miwa Masayo didn't resist his hands or his embrace. She simply tucked her head beneath her belly and fell asleep with a soft rumbling purr.
Animals and humans were different.
Even if they walked the same immortal path, their roads were not the same.
For humans, the path was to go against what was easy and refine oneself upward—strengthening the body while taming instinct, using both as fuel to reach a higher state of life.
But for other animals, the path was the opposite.
They followed instinct.
They followed bloodline.
They traced themselves back toward their earliest, most primal forms, and through that, elevated their existence.
That was why Yoru pushed himself so hard—training, refining, hardening both body and will.
But to Miwa Masayo, he gave the opposite advice.
If she wanted to eat, then eat.
If she wanted to sleep, then sleep.
If she wanted to move, move.
If she wanted to argue with ninja dogs, then go argue.
Everything should follow nature.
Follow instinct.
And sure enough, under that principle, the tabby's growth was astonishing.
Her progress was no slower than his.
Which made this cat-lover feel deeply envious.
Jealous, even.
But humans were special.
They had conquered every ecological niche not with claws or fangs, but with their minds.
Labor and effort were simply part of human nature.
So after the brief jealousy, Yoru quietly accepted it and kept working.
Under the gentle rhythm of his hands, Miwa Masayo soon began purring in complete comfort.
But his own mood remained heavy.
If not for her reminder, he might never have realized how close he was to revealing himself by accident.
Cultivation required four essentials: method, wealth, companions, and place.
There was only an order among them—none was truly unimportant.
Miwa Masayo's warning made Yoru understand the value of companionship.
It also showed him something else—
His changes could fool human eyes.
But they could not fool animals with keen senses.
Maybe Inuzuka Tsume had sensed something too.
She just happened to be too careless to think much of it.
Yoru's thinking had shifted somewhat, but he was still very far from stepping into the light. He didn't have that confidence yet.
On the path of cultivation, he was still exploring entirely on his own. He didn't even possess proper techniques suited for his current stage. His training focused on strengthening the foundation of the body in every way.
As for what his actual combat strength now amounted to—
He had no clear idea at all.
At present, aside from meat and good food, he had no special need for extra resources.
His external demands were low.
There was no need to step forward and become Konoha's next famous prodigy.
If his body's needs rose again—
If his appetite multiplied several times over and exceeded what he could sustain on his own—
Then no one would need to push him.
He would step out on his own.
He would become the genius everyone noticed.
He would place himself at the center of both the clan's attention and the Hokage faction's gaze.
And then he would squeeze more resources out of the clan.
The more dazzling the title of "genius," the more the clan would be willing to invest in him.
But the cost of becoming the center of attention was just as obvious.
The clan would pile all kinds of troublesome assignments onto him.
ANBU and Root would watch him constantly.
And assassination attempts might not be far behind.
It was a matter of weighing gains against losses.
For now, Yoru was certain—
The advantages of staying hidden were greater.
That was why he had deliberately chosen the outermost courtyard.
And the most remote corner in it.
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