The yakiniku restaurant inside the Akimichi compound reeked of sizzling meat and charcoal. Shibi Aburame stared at the mountain of empty plates stacked haphazardly across the table, his mind struggling to process what he'd witnessed.
Three hours. That was all it had taken.
He'd invited his new genin team to celebrate their first day together, expecting a modest meal. Instead, he'd watched a catastrophe unfold in real time.
The Hyuga boy was an animal.
The moment the first skewers hit the grill, Seiran had moved with terrifying efficiency. It wasn't eating—it was demolition. Skewer after skewer vanished down his throat barely touched by teeth. Beside him, Anko Mitarashi matched his pace with alarming intensity, her jaw working steadily as the towering pile of meat evaporated.
Shibi's wallet groaned in sympathy.
Now both of them sprawled across the booth's bench, groaning and clutching distended stomachs like they'd swallowed stones. They looked utterly wrecked.
"That... that'll be 20,000 ryo," the plump shopkeeper stammered, clutching his ledger with white knuckles. His expression ping-ponged between awe and pity as he stared at the wreckage.
Twenty thousand ryo.
A vein throbbed in Shibi's temple. That was nearly a month's salary. He glanced at the two genin sprawled on the bench, flushed and giggling weakly, then at Rin Uchiha, who sipped her tea with the polite detachment of someone watching a play.
"I can cover it," Rin offered, her voice soft. "I don't mind."
"No!" Shibi's response came sharper than intended. He coughed, reaching into his vest with trembling fingers and withdrawing a stack of bills. There was absolutely no way a student was paying his tab. He'd combust from shame first.
My heart is bleeding, he thought mournfully as he handed over the cash.
"Please come again!" the shopkeeper called cheerfully as they filed toward the exit.
The moment the door closed behind them, Shibi spun on his heel. "I have an... urgent mission. Stay out of trouble."
Before anyone could respond, he vanished into an alleyway like an insect fleeing light.
Rin tilted her head, watching him go. "He's interesting. Not what I expected from the rumors."
"I know, right?" Anko giggled, wiping her mouth clean. "I thought he'd be strict like those ANBU types. He's just... awkward."
Seiran patted his full stomach, satisfaction etched across his face. His biomagnetic field was already metabolizing the nutrients, converting them into fuel for physical enhancement. He'd needed those calories. "I think our sensei has a bit of social anxiety."
"Social anxiety?" Anko tested the unfamiliar term on her tongue.
"He's bad at talking to people. Apparently that's pretty common for the Aburame clan."
Rin nodded thoughtfully. "I guess. He was wrapped up so tight I barely saw any skin. Like he was hiding."
Seiran shrugged. "Just hope he doesn't take it out on us with D-rank missions."
---
The Third Hokage's office door creaked open softly.
Hiruzen Sarutobi didn't look up from his paperwork. "Come in."
Shibi entered with hunched shoulders, looking thoroughly exhausted.
"Shibi," Hiruzen said, setting down his brush. "How is your new team?"
"Capable," Shibi admitted, his voice muffled by his high collar. "But I'm not sure I'm the right person to teach them. I work best alone."
Hiruzen sighed, leaning back in his chair. He took a long drag from his pipe. "Shibi, you are one of Konoha's elite. A rhinoceros beetle is strong, yes—but even a beetle cannot lift a mountain alone."
Shibi remained silent.
"The Hyuga prodigy, the Uchiha heiress, and the daughter of the Mitarashi clan," Hiruzen continued, his voice taking on a mentor's weight. "They have potential, but they lack direction. They need a leader to guide them, not just a fighter. This is growth for you as well. To learn to trust in others."
Shibi's shoulders sagged. "You are wise, Lord Third."
"I'm just an old man drowning in paperwork." Hiruzen chuckled. "Tell me—how is the Hyuga boy? I hear he made quite the impression at dinner."
Shibi actually laughed, a dry, clicking sound. "That's an understatement. Seiran... he's a glutton. But there's something sharp behind those white eyes. He watches everything. And the chakra reserves for a rookie..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Good. Keep an eye on him." Hiruzen waved his hand dismissively. "Dismissed."
---
"Are you serious?"
Anko held a filthy rag over her nose and mouth, her voice muffled and dripping with disgust. She poked at a clogged sewer grate with a wooden stick. "This is supposed to be our training?"
Seiran swept refuse into a cart, completely unbothered. He'd been doing this for days now. "Think of it as building character. Or endurance."
"Endurance?" Anko retched. "I'm going to be sick!" She looked between Seiran and Rin, who was dutifully shoveling muck. "I heard you two spent a fortune on that barbecue. Shouldn't you be lounging in some nice compound?"
Rin wiped sweat from her forehead. "The Uchiha compound isn't a resort. And I don't mind hard work."
"Liar," Anko muttered. "I want a real mission. A combat mission. I want to fight!"
Seiran paused, leaning on his broom. Anko's face was flushed with frustration. His internal clock was ticking loudly—the Third Shinobi World War loomed on the horizon. The Caged Bird Curse Mark on his forehead throbbed like a constant, cruel reminder of his mortality.
He needed power. Real power. Not sewage and petty cleanup.
"D-rank missions are a requirement," Seiran said, though resignation colored his words. "We need completion records to unlock C-ranks. But I agree—this feels pointless."
"See?" Anko pointed at him triumphantly. "Even Mr. Perfect thinks it's stupid!"
"Maybe Shibi is punishing us for the restaurant bill," Rin mused, her eyes narrowing as she considered it.
Seiran smirked. "He's definitely stingy."
But worry didn't touch him. While they shoveled refuse, his Shadow Clone trained in the backwoods—a B-rank technique he'd learned from Rin that wasn't heavily classified, at least not to an Uchiha heiress. The clone worked on refining his Electromagnetic Manipulation, and he could feel steady EXP flowing in with every passing hour.
Just a little longer, he thought, touching the seal on his forehead. Then we make our move.
"I really wish we had a real mission," Rin said suddenly, her eyes burning with intensity as she looked at Seiran. "Do you know how the Sharingan awakens?"
Seiran blinked. "Life or death situations. Strong emotion. Adrenaline."
"Exactly." Rin clenched her fist. "The clan elders told me. I can't just wait around. I need that power."
Seiran's lips twitched. "Don't be so eager to almost die. It's not as fun as it sounds."
He knew exactly where that path led—pain, trauma, a lifetime of carrying ghosts. But he kept silent. He couldn't tell her I know the future, avoid the disasters. That would raise too many questions.
"So what, we just keep sweeping until someone tries to kill us?" Anko grumbled, kicking a rock across the muddy ground. "This is unbearable."
Seiran looked up at the sky. Storm clouds were gathering, dark and heavy.
"Patience," he said softly. "The war is coming. You'll get your fight soon enough."
And when it did, he intended to be ready. No more caged birds. No more waiting for death. He would rewrite the ending, even if he had to tear the pages apart with raw power.