Qingyu's response left Yamanaka Yuta completely stunned.
It wasn't just a lack of professional courtesy; it was total, bone-deep indifference!
I am a senior member of the Torture Force! I'm an elder of the Yamanaka clan! When I said "it's fine if you don't help," that was just a polite social lubricant! How could you take it literally?!
In Yuta's experience, whenever he approached a junior or a newcomer for assistance on a mission, they would jump at the chance, nodding frantically and declaring their loyalty. Qingyu was the first person—and likely the last—to reject him so bluntly.
Most rookies were desperate for a chance to curry favor with a senior, get some specialized training, and fast-track their promotion. But not Qingyu.
Yuta realized too late that Qingyu didn't seem to understand the nuance of "social politeness." The rejection was immediate and absolute.
"Qingyu, I must remind you," Yuta said gravely, trying to salvage his dignity and sway the boy's mind. "Helping me complete this mission would be extremely beneficial for your future in the Torture Force."
"Oh, I see," Qingyu replied, sounding utterly unimpressed.
"So... you're really not going to help?" Yuta's brow furrowed.
"I'm not helping," Qingyu answered firmly. Once he made up his mind, he didn't waver.
More importantly, based on Yuta's vague phrasing, Qingyu's intuition was screaming. This was no simple task. It would likely put him in an awkward or dangerous position. Sure, he might get to read some interesting memories or receive a reward from Yuta, but in Qingyu's eyes, it wasn't worth the risk.
A month of reading memories had taught him that the shinobi world was complex and cruel. It wasn't just wars between ninjas; the lives of ordinary people were fraught with peril. This was no utopia; it was a gritty, realistic world.
With his Mind-Reading System, he could just "fish" in the Torture Force, slowly growing stronger by reading memories in safety. Even if it took longer, it was stable. Why risk his life for a shortcut?
"Ahem..." Yuta cleared his throat to mask the awkwardness. He tried to sound mysterious. "Qingyu, this is a secret mission. It's a massive growth opportunity. I only came to you because I think highly of you. If I asked anyone else in the department, they'd say yes without a second thought!"
"Mr. Yuta, thank you for your confidence," Qingyu said sincerely. "But I feel my strength is still insufficient to help you. It's better to give this opportunity to those who would say yes without a second thought."
"You truly don't want this chance?" Yuta could tell Qingyu wasn't being modest; he genuinely wanted no part of it. He tried one last trump card: "This mission could get you a better position. I could even recommend you for a transfer to other Anbu departments. You know the Torture Force is draining; you don't want to end up looking like a skeleton like me when you're older!"
"Mr. Yuta, I actually love the Torture Force," Qingyu said, and for once, he was being 100% honest. "I have no desire to go to other departments. If I can stay here for decades just like you, it would be my greatest honor."
If he left the Torture Force, where else would he find such a perfect "buffet" of memories to consume?
"You... you... you..." Yuta's face fell.
Technically, he didn't need Qingyu for the mission. He had truly wanted to give the boy a chance to prove himself. But being rejected felt... unpleasant. Humans are strange; sometimes, after being turned down, the desire to succeed becomes more about the rejection than the task itself.
"Fine! Here's what we'll do," Yuta said, his eyes flashing with determination. "I'll go to Captain Eaton and apply to have you officially assigned to this mission with me. That way, it's not just my mission—it's our mission. That should work, right?"
Yuta assumed Qingyu was refusing because he didn't want to do "free labor" for someone else's credit. He didn't realize that Qingyu's primary goal was to avoid trouble.
Qingyu's sharp instincts told him Yuta wasn't looking for "talent." Yuta wanted someone dull, tight-lipped, and unlikely to ask questions. Why else pick a rookie for a high-priority secret mission? He remembered the prison deaths—Yuta had likely been the primary investigator, and Qingyu had been the "tool" who didn't talk. His cautious style had ironically made him the perfect accomplice in Yuta's eyes.
"Mr. Yuta..." Qingyu began, pivoting to a different tactic. He needed to look weak. "I haven't been feeling well lately..."
"What?"
"You know, my constitution is weak. Every month, there are... those few days... where my body is indisposed, I'm lethargic, and I lack patience. It's not that I don't want to help, it's just that my body won't allow it!"
Yuta's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly hit his hairline. He knew the kid was sickly, but that excuse... something about it felt incredibly "off."