"Meet me tomorrow morning at the training field outside the village. For now, tell me the jutsu you’re most familiar with—I need to get a good read on your capabilities," Nara Kazuki mumbled between slurps of ramen.
Shisui found it a bit odd. He’d never met a squad leader like Kazuki—someone who would take his team out for ramen right after recruitment, not to mention removing his mask so casually.
Itachi, on the other hand, looked quietly content. He’d eaten at Ichiraku before, but his mother didn’t bring him often. The rare treat made his mouth water.
"Alright, Captain. My specialties are Fire Release, genjutsu, and close-quarters taijutsu," Shisui said, glancing at Kazuki. Even with his mask off, Kazuki had changed faces—just a plain, forgettable face. Realizing something, Shisui followed suit, swapping his face too. Itachi, watching silently, imitated them both.
Kazuki blinked. He remembered Shisui had earned the title "Shisui of the Body Flicker," and it made him think—Shisui’s version of the technique was probably different from the standard variant.
"I’m the same as White Crow," Itachi added simply. Kazuki paused.
Three guys on the same team, all using Fire Release? What the hell were they gonna do—play with fireworks? Everyone knew Fire Release couldn’t kill a damn thing.
Kazuki cleared his throat.
"I’m similar to you both. But I also know some clan jutsu," he added. He didn’t really need to say it, but on the battlefield, holding too many secrets could break trust.
You hide this, hide that—how do you expect your teammates to rely on you? You’d get outplayed by your own squad before the enemy even made a move.
When it came to comrades in combat, less scheming, more honesty.
"Can we head out today?" Shisui asked, a little too eager. He was desperate to help mend the fractured relationship between the Uchiha and the village. Joining the Anbu was his first step, and Itachi’s too. If they performed well, earned Minato’s trust, maybe the Uchiha wouldn’t be ostracized so badly.
Shisui was uneasy. The internal murmurs within the clan made his nerves buzz—they were playing with fire.
"One day," Kazuki said, giving Shisui a glance. "Use it to prep, to say goodbye, or to write your will."
That last line made Shisui freeze.
Kazuki knew why Shisui was in a rush, understood what drove him. But this was how Anbu worked.
Not that the rules specifically said "one day"—the prep time ranged from minutes to days depending on the mission and squad leader. But still... the will part wasn’t for show.
That word grounded Shisui, cooled the heat in his chest. He’d been too hasty.
Kazuki, meanwhile, wasn’t just talking big. When he got home, he actually pulled out his own old will. He’d written it back when he first joined Anbu, paired with Yamanaka Mai—code name "Fox"—on their first mission.
Anbu didn’t get to choose when they’d die. Having a written will was practical, even necessary.
Anbu training taught one thing: if capture seemed imminent, the ideal protocol was suicide—and then destroying your own body. It was the best way to protect yourself and your comrades.
Because if you didn’t die? What came next made death look merciful.
Every major village had their own forbidden methods for interrogating a shinobi’s corpse—extracting intel, piercing the brain, twisting memories. Sometimes, even death couldn’t protect you. Better to go out clean and take your secrets with you.
Kazuki remembered being shaken to his core when he learned that.
The shinobi world wasn’t just cruel—it was surgical in its brutality.
A knock at the door. Kazuki opened it to find Uncle Suzaku holding a box of pastries.
Kazuki smiled and let him in. In all of Konoha, Suzaku was one of the few people Kazuki truly felt tied to. Though they weren’t related by blood, Suzaku had always treated him like his own son. Kazuki held deep respect for him.
"What brings you here, Uncle Suzaku?" Kazuki asked, accepting the box with a grin. He poured tea for his guest, tempted to grab the signed copy of Make-Out Paradise by Jiraiya... but stopped himself. Suzaku’s style didn’t lean that way.
"Show me your Shadow Imitation Technique," Suzaku said gently.
Kazuki blinked but nodded and performed the jutsu obediently.
"Hm. Interesting," Suzaku said, watching carefully. "But there are things you’re missing. Here, take this. Go through it when you have time."
He handed over a notebook.
Kazuki accepted it curiously, flipping through it—and was immediately stunned.
The pages were packed with detailed analysis and insights. Freshly written. As Kazuki skimmed, he could feel his Shadow Imitation proficiency climbing—twenty points up after just a few pages.
That notebook was worth more than two hundred full training reps of Shadow Imitation.
"Keep it up. Come have dinner at my place at the end of the year," Suzaku said, patting Kazuki’s shoulder. Kazuki clutched the notebook and nodded solemnly.
He understood what Suzaku meant.
After Suzaku left, Kazuki dove into the rest of the notebook. By the time he finished, his Shadow Imitation Technique proficiency had jumped by 332 points.
It didn’t look like much on paper, but for Kazuki, it was unreal.
If every book were , he’d flip the entire Konoha library upside down before sunset.
But that wasn’t realistic. Not everyone could write with this level of insight.
Reading this made one thing crystal clear—Kazuki still had a massive gap to close when it came to catching up with Uncle Suzaku’s mastery of the Shadow Imitation Technique.
"...My uncle’s gotta be the Jinchūriki of Shadow Imitation," Kazuki muttered.
Suzaku had taken this clan jutsu and pushed it to the absolute limit. There were applications in that book Kazuki had never considered.
"Maybe I should try one of these out next mission," Kazuki murmured, rubbing his hands together.
He could feel it—his grasp of the technique had already reached a new level. That was no small thing.