Ninja World: Power through Bonds

"Where did you hear that name?" Yugao asked urgently, her expression tense.

"Is he a relative of yours?" Denji didn't answer directly, choosing instead to counter with another question.

Yugao glanced around, her gaze landing on Kurenai, who was watching intently, clearly curious about the exchange. Without a word, Yugao grabbed Denji and led him into a nearby room.

Denji's mouth twitched in irritation. Fine. When I grow up, I'm definitely getting even. Is everyone just going to keep pushing me around because I'm young?

"Denji, please, tell me where you learned about Uzuki Daichi. This is really important to me," Yugao asked again, her tone almost pleading.

Denji sighed. "I'll tell you, but you have to tell me what your connection is to him first. Deal?"

Yugao hesitated, but then she nodded. "Alright."

She went on to explain that Daichi was her uncle, her father's younger brother. In her family's eyes, he had been a true prodigy, a shining talent of the Uzuki clan who had achieved the rank of special Jōnin at just thirteen. However, during the Third Shinobi World War, he was declared dead following a battle against Iwagakure. His body was never recovered—just his name written coldly on the casualty list. To Yugao, he had been gone for nearly a decade. Hearing his name now, from Denji, was nothing short of shocking.

"I see..." Denji replied thoughtfully. He decided to share a bit of what he knew. "He's still alive. As far as I know, he's in Root."

"What?" Yugao's voice rose in surprise. "Then why didn't he come home all these years? Not even a single letter?"

"Probably because of some agreement with my old man," Denji said, brushing off the confusion. "Look, just so you understand, Anbu and Root are not the same thing. They're entirely separate organizations."

Yugao's brow furrowed. "But isn't Root just a division of Anbu?"

"Nope," Denji said, shaking his head. "Root operates independently. Even the Hokage can't interfere directly with what they do."

The full weight of what Denji was saying started to dawn on Yugao. "So Root is like a hidden force... outside of the Hokage's direct control?"

"Exactly," Denji replied. "While the Hokage has to act publicly and carefully, Root can move in the shadows, doing whatever it pleases. No names, just code names. Once you're in, you don't exist in the official records anymore."

Yugao's shoulders sagged as she processed the implications. "If he's in Root, then he wouldn't have been able to send us any news..."

"Exactly," Denji confirmed. "Your uncle's survival must have something to do with the old man. If I hadn't pressed him, I wouldn't have gotten any details at all."

Yugao's voice trembled as she asked, "Do you think... do you think I could meet him?"

The war had taken a heavy toll on the Uzuki family, leaving it almost entirely wiped out. Uzuki Daichi might very well be the only elder she had left.

"Not now," Denji replied firmly.

"Let me go back, check with the old man, and get you a proper answer."

Uzuki Yugao looked a little crestfallen but nodded in understanding. She added softly, "Thank you, Denji. Without you, I'd never have known I still had family in this world."

[The bond between the host and Uzuki Yugao has reached stage two. Reward: Enhanced Swordsmanship Talent.]

That was fast.

Denji blinked in surprise. He wasn't used to the second stage coming so easily. For someone like Shisui, he'd had to pull a lot more strings to reach this point. Still, a reward was a reward.

At least it proved that Uzuki Yugao genuinely felt grateful to him, not just out of courtesy.

…

By nightfall, Tansho Street had transformed into a lively hub of nightlife. Even in the early hours of the morning, faint sounds of revelry could still be heard. However, in the district reserved for nobility, silence reigned.

Hizashi sent a quick hand signal, and the team sprang into action. Denji and his teammates slipped out of their rooms and quietly followed him. Using the cover of shadows and rooftops, they edged closer to their target: the smuggler, Fujimoto Keisuke.

An assassination mission wasn't about raw power—it was about finesse. Eliminating the target was the easy part. The challenge lay in doing so without raising the alarm.

Fortunately, Denji's team had an invaluable advantage.

Their Jōnin leader was Hizashi.

"Byakugan!"

Standing just outside the opulent mansion's walls, Hizashi's veins bulged as his Byakugan flared to life. The Hyuga clan's signature dōjutsu was a game-changer.

While the Sharingan excelled at combat, the Byakugan's strategic significance lay in its unmatched range and precision for gathering intelligence. In the long run, Byakugan was arguably the more critical asset to a village's operations.

Of course, the Mangekyō Sharingan was a different story, but its rarity and the risks of obtaining it meant that even the other hidden villages treated it more as myth than fact. Only legends like Onoki remembered its devastating power firsthand.

…

Hizashi quickly sketched out the mansion's interior on the ground. "There are three people in the master bedroom on the second floor—one man, two women. Two guards are stationed at the entrance. The first floor has three bedrooms, each housing two occupants, and there are two individuals in the basement."

He tapped a circle around one of the second-floor rooms. "This one is key. A ninja is inside—likely a Chūnin, judging by the chakra. He's still awake."

"The primary target is probably in the master bedroom," Hizashi continued. "But it's best to prepare for deception. We'll need to subdue everyone inside to identify our true target."

Hizashi was about to divvy up assignments when he caught sight of Denji's chakra reserves. His eyes widened.

What the…?

Denji's chakra levels far surpassed his own. For a moment, Hizashi thought his Byakugan was malfunctioning.

Oblivious to Hizashi's reaction, Denji had fixated on something else entirely.

"One man, two women…?" Denji muttered, his teeth grinding in frustration. 

Unbelievable. He—a prodigy—had never experienced that kind of luxury. Yet some no-name smuggler dared to live so extravagantly?

Fine. He just earned himself a special death sentence.