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How to Survive as an Uchiha

A man reborn, more interested in his next meal than clan politics, finds himself caught in a power play that could reshape Konoha. Uchiha Masashi has seen it all before - literally. With memories of his past lives and abilities that shouldn't be possible, he'd rather perfect his combat skills than deal with clan drama. But when the newly appointed Fourth Hokage shows up with a proposal to unleash the Uchiha's power beyond their traditional police role, even Masashi has to pay attention. The clan sees opportunity. The village sees profit. Masashi sees the threads of fate that once led to his clan's destruction starting to weave again. As the Uchiha rush to prove themselves "ten times better than the Hyūga," Masashi walks a fine line between duty and survival. He knows too much - about the Nine-Tails incident that could destroy his clan's reputation, about young Shisui's tragic destiny, about the wheels already in motion. The question is: will he bother trying to change any of it? After all, in a world where even the strongest must sometimes bend to fate, sometimes the smartest move is to grab some dango and watch it all unfold. ---------- ---------- I don't own Naruto. Kudos to Masashi Kishimoto. Warnings: - AU - politics - powerful MC - MC is sometimes ruthless - shadow clones are not almighty Advance Chapters on p@treon: p@treon.com/Malphegor If you'd like to support me but can't join P@treon, leaving comments or reviews is also helpful!

Malphegor · Komik
Peringkat tidak cukup
49 Chs

02 - A Shinobi's Guide to Bar Etiquette

As Masashi walked back into the police department, he headed straight to the office to check out.

"Mission report, Masashi-san?" The clerk's voice was friendly but professional.

"Standard patrol. No real incidents." Masashi handed over his paperwork, watching as the clan member in charge of registration marked his mission complete. Finally done. Now I can get back to my training schedule. That new Yang Release variation needs work.

He turned to leave, planning his evening training routine, when a familiar voice called out behind him. "Masashi-nii!"

He turned with a smile. "Tetsuka, long time no see."

Tetsuka was more than just a familiar face—he was a trusted comrade who had fought alongside him on the battlefield.

"Long time no see? You're always holed up at home, aren't you?" Tetsuka's face scrunched up with irritation. "Why didn't you attend the clan meeting a few days ago?"

Masashi shrugged nonchalantly. "No need to. I'll just follow orders anyway."

Clan meetings were similar to workplace meetings from his previous life. Pre-meeting communication, decision-making during the meeting. The Uchiha were a bit more straightforward, but the overall process was the same.

"That's exactly your problem," Tetsuka crossed his arms. "You're talented, everyone knows that. But talent isn't everything. The clan needs more than just strong shinobi—we need voices, ideas."

"The clan has plenty of those already."

"But not yours. And that matters." Tetsuka leaned against the wall. "You know what Fugaku-sama said the other day? He asked about your progress with the police force."

Masashi raised an eyebrow. "Did he now?"

"Don't act so surprised. Your mission completion rate is impressive." Tetsuka grinned. "Though some say you're too efficient. Almost inhuman."

"Efficiency saves lives." Masashi kept his voice neutral. "In our line of work, that matters more than politics."

"Politics?" Tetsuka rubbed his temple, clearly frustrated with his cousin. "Clan meetings aren't just about following orders. They're about discussing important decisions that affect us all."

"I see." Masashi's response remained lukewarm.

How can someone just a few years older than me be so un-Uchiha? Tetsuka let out a frustrated sigh. "Can't you be a bit more... passionate?"

"Even the old ninjas in the clan aren't like this. In fact, the older they get, the more energetic they become. At every meeting, they're the most spirited ones."

Masashi shrugged again. "Unity is what matters most." Though unity without wisdom is just organized stupidity.

"But what if we're working towards something wrong?"

"In this world, there is no right or wrong." Masashi fixed him with a strange look. "The strong are always right."

Tetsuka clearly didn't grasp the weight of those words, the truth Masashi had learned through pain.

His eyes widened. "I get it now. But there's still a gathering tonight, and you can't miss it."

Masashi shook his head. "The family's situation is dire. I need to train more to contribute to the clan. I don't have time for frivolous gatherings."

Tetsuka rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Fine, I'll call more people to join us!"

"Where's the gathering tonight?" he finally asked, resigned to his fate. "I'll make sure to pay my share. I don't want to freeload."

Tetsuka grinned, told him the location, and left.

As Masashi turned to leave, he caught a clan member staring at him with an odd expression. This put him on high alert. Another one of Fugaku's watchers? Or something else?

"Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice calm but his eyes sharp.

"The place your friend booked is nice, and they just got some new tea," the middle-aged clan member said enviously. "The only downside is that it's pricey."

"Sorry? What are you talking about? If there's nothing else, I'll leave. I need to train," Masashi said expressionlessly, and immediately used body flicker to leave.

The clan member stared at the empty space, confused. "Are young people these days really that dedicated?"

He couldn't help but be impressed. The Uchiha clan had produced exceptional young warriors during this war, and Masashi stood among them.

The middle-aged clan member hadn't expected such diligence from someone so young.

"No wonder they call him a training fanatic in the clan," he muttered, shaking his head. "Success never comes by chance. The future of the Uchiha Clan depends on young people like him."

---

Masashi had already returned home. He should have gone to the canteen for food, but that was off-limits for now.

"Tetsuka, that guy, how could he talk about secret things so carelessly?" he grumbled while entering his house. "Clearly inexperienced."

In the kitchen, he quickly prepared and ate his fried rice while planning his training schedule. At least it turned out decent this time. Then he headed to the clan's training ground to begin his practice.

The Uchiha training ground was massive and well-equipped. It wasn't just a simple flat area with targets; it resembled a sports complex with both outdoor and indoor facilities, including specialized areas for Sharingan training.

The Sharingan training area could use some updates. Maybe I should suggest some improvements based on what I know from my past life...

Following his routine, he first practiced shurikenjutsu and taijutsu, then trained his Sharingan, and finally worked on his ninjutsu. 

Besides the natural fire affinity all Uchiha had, his second transmigration had let him keep his water and wind affinities from the first.

He had been tirelessly training these three elements, not considering new chakra transformations yet. For one, it was already enough. Secondly, he didn't have the extra time.

In this world, speed was crucial. Everything had to be done quickly, or you'd be left behind. Efficiency was key, and investing time without sufficient returns wasn't worth it.

Masashi's Yang Release training was well-known among the Uchiha, but most people didn't pay much attention to it, and no one cared about the specific technique he was practicing.

The Uchiha clan, with their long history, knew that their ancestors, along with the Senju, were descendants of the Sage of Six Paths, and they understood the powerful benefits of Yang Release.

However, knowing about it was one thing, but actually practicing it was another story.

Unlike the five basic elemental chakras, mastering Yang Release was a slow and demanding process that required natural talent. The Uchiha clan's Sharingan gave them an edge in learning new techniques quickly, allowing them to master many skills.

However, perfecting the Sharingan itself was such a time-consuming endeavor that they had little time for anything else. Asking them to put in extra effort to develop Yang Release was a tall order.

The Uchiha had learned from their long history, particularly during the Warring States period, that Yang Release's slower training pace made it more of a liability than an asset. Among the entire Uchiha clan, Masashi was the only one willing to sacrifice time spent training the Sharingan to practice Yang Release.

After finishing his ninjutsu practice, he headed home to clean up. A quick but thorough shower later, he changed into comfortable clothes and set out for the meeting.

His legs were sore from the intense training, but that didn't stop him from taking a shortcut to the meeting spot.

The group was gathering at the best bar in Konoha, conveniently located near the iconic Hokage Rock. He jumped down from the roof and continued on foot.

From a distance, he spotted Tetsuka waiting at the entrance, chatting with Inoka and Yatsushiro. The three of them often hung out together, goofing around and causing trouble.

Then he noticed someone unexpected—Yaku, Fugaku's trusted right-hand man. He was a smooth operator with considerable influence, and both the dove and hawk factions believed they could sway him to their side.

Masashi quickened his pace, walking towards Yaku, who greeted him with a smile. He could be casual with Tetsuka and the others, but not with Yaku due to the difference in seniority.

So, tonight's gathering is going to be serious? he thought, a slight frown creasing his brow. Guess I'll just sit for a bit and then head home. After all, I'm supposed to be obsessed with training.

"Yaku-sama." He offered a slight bow.

"Don't be so formal," Yaku showed a smile he never had in the office. "We're relaxing tonight."

Masashi's eyes widened slightly as realization hit. Great, just my luck—they're all in on it!

He forced a smile and nodded. "Sorry about that."

Tetsuka clapped him on the back, grinning. "Come on, let's head inside. We've got a lot to discuss."

As they entered the bar, Masashi couldn't shake the feeling that this night was going to be a lot more exhausting than he'd thought.

The moment Masashi and his fellow Uchiha stepped into the bar, the atmosphere shifted like a genjutsu dispelling. Conversations hushed mid-sentence, sake cups froze halfway to lips, and heads turned with the synchronicity of a well-oiled machine.

At first glance, it seemed like an older uncle was treating his juniors to a night out. But that impression quickly faded when people saw the fan emblem on the backs of their clothes.

Even those who had had a bit too much to drink knew better than to make a joke. These weren't just any shinobi—they were Konoha's Police Force.

Masashi's eyes swept the room, cataloging details out of habit. A couple in the corner, the man suddenly sitting up straighter as he noticed the Uchiha emblem.

A group of off-duty chunin, their laughter dying down as they gave respectful nods. A lone figure at the bar, hunched over a drink, who glanced up and instantly sobered at the sight of the Police Force.

The Uchiha's presence stirred a mix of reactions, mostly positive. Some patrons straightened their postures, a sign of respect for the prominent clan. Others smiled nervously, perhaps remembering past encounters with the law.

One particularly drunk customer started to stand, as if to approach, but his friend yanked him back down with a hissed warning.

Same old routine, he suppressed a sigh. At least the sake better be good this time. Last visit was like drinking watered-down paint thinner.

But after the Nine-Tails incident, these same looks of respect would turn to suspicion and fear. Many families lost loved ones, and rumors started spreading that the Uchiha were behind it. This caused the Uchiha's reputation to plummet, becoming so bad that they were practically despised.

But for now, the Uchiha were synonymous with the Police Force and being shinobi. Not much else came to mind. While the Uchiha didn't have a spotless reputation, those who spoke poorly of them were generally the ones who had been on the wrong side of the law.

After all, any reasonable person would know that as long as you stayed out of trouble, you had nothing to fear, and most of Konoha's residents were decent folk.

Masashi could feel the weight of those respectful glances, even here in this bar. And some were just outright strange... Like the owner of this bar. His eyes lit up like a slot machine hitting jackpot. It wasn't because his place was small or lacking in customers—quite the opposite.

This bar was large enough to be called a restaurant, with high operating costs. The fees just to have so many hostesses were no small matter, so a major portion of revenue came from wealthy patrons' tips

He knew that ninjas made a lot of money, and they spent it just as lavishly. Especially those from established ninja clans, with their family's reputation on the line, tended to have even greater earning power. Even if they overspent by accident, their clan would always cover the difference.

He loved when ninja clans came to spend money. They weren't just generous with their spending; as the ones in charge of the Police Force, it meant that if he treated them well, his establishment would stay on their good side. This would keep his 'service fees' to the Police Force at a minimal level, no matter how much money he earned. It was a win-win situation.

In his eyes, ninja clans like the Uchiha not only had money but were also decent people! If only all Konoha institutions were run by the ninja clans!

He couldn't help but compare them to the people in the administrative department who, despite also being ninjas, would always find a way to demand bribes and freebies. He sincerely hoped they'd never be able to hide their secret stashes of money!

Of course, when rich customers like the Uchiha arrived, the owner made sure to personally welcome them. He practically tripped over himself rushing to greet them, his face a mask of eager servility.

Masashi noticed the slight tremor in his hands, the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Interesting. What are you hiding, I wonder?

"Yaku-sama!" The owner's voice dripped with honey, thick enough to trap flies. "It's been so long since your last visit. The girls have been complaining to me about it!"

Masashi fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, right. Last time it was all about us 'young, handsome men'.

But he kept his face neutral, years of practice making it effortless. He caught Tetsuka's eye, saw the slight quirk of his eyebrow. At least he wasn't the only one who remembered.

The owner, whose name he recalled was Tanaka, was practically glowing with enthusiasm. Masashi knew the type well.

To Tanaka, shinobi from clans like the Uchiha weren't just wealthy patrons—they were a lifeline for his business and a shield against the more unsavory elements of Konoha's bureaucracy.

How naive. If he only knew the half of it. The politics, the rivalries... But let him have his illusions. They serve us well enough.

As they followed Yaku upstairs, Masashi's mind wandered. Wonder if they've changed the menu. Could go for some grilled eel right now. Or maybe some of that spicy pork belly from the place near headquarters...

"Oi, Masashi-nii," Tetsuka mumbled, falling into step beside him. "You've got that look again. Thinking about food?"

Masashi's lips twitched. "What else is there to think about?"

Tetsuka chuckled. "Fair point. But try to look a little more... I don't know, intimidating? You're ruining our image."

"Our image is just fine," Masashi retorted. "Besides, a hungry shinobi is a dangerous shinobi."

The group chose a large private room and sat down. Tanaka quickly left, only to return shortly with a line of girls, all smiling brightly. They stood in a row and bowed in unison, greeting them sweetly, "Good evening~!"

"Don't just stand there, girls. Introduce yourselves!" Tanaka flashed a fawning smile at the Uchiha and clapped his hands to prompt the girls. They responded perfectly, each showing just the right amount of shyness or liveliness as they introduced themselves, listing their ages, hometowns, and so on.

Masashi's gaze paused on a petite brunette with large, doe-like eyes.

"I'm Chisato," she said, her voice soft but clear. "Eighteen years old, from a small village. It's a pleasure to meet you all." She bowed, a slight tremor in her hands betraying her nervousness.

Eighteen, hmm?

He glanced at Yaku and noticed his gaze was very focused, though somewhat lacking in experience. It seemed he had misjudged Yaku—he wasn't a man who frequented these kinds of places after all.

Sensing Masashi's gaze, Yaku turned to him. "Oh? It seems like you're quite interested. Why don't you pick for everyone?"

It was painful to watch someone who clearly had no experience try to act like a seasoned pro in front of their juniors. But Masashi understood. He had been there too.

He inclined his head slightly. "If you insist, Yaku-sama."

When you go out to have fun, the most important thing is to ensure everyone enjoys themselves—especially this old man. He used his Sharingan.

Ignoring the girls' stiffening expressions, Masashi carefully examined each one. No one could hide their true age or figure under those eyes!

Once he finished, he deactivated his Sharingan and pointed to four girls from left to right. He turned to Tanaka, his expression neutral. "Tanaka-san, these ladies are lovely, but I'm curious... do you perhaps have other groups we could meet? Just to ensure we have a... comprehensive selection."

Tanaka blinked, then his eyes lit up. "Ah, of course! How could I forget? We do have two more groups waiting. Would you like to see them as well?"

Masashi nodded, his voice casual. "If it's not too much trouble. We wouldn't want to miss out on anyone exceptional, would we?"

"No, no, of course not!" Tanaka agreed eagerly. "I'll bring them right in. You're absolutely right, Masashi-sama. It's always best to consider all options."

The owner had many good qualities, but he could be annoyingly verbose. Last time, his interference almost made Masashi miss out on a good selection.

Everyone has different tastes, after all.

He quickly ushered the remaining girls out and hurriedly shut the door, rushing to bring in the next group.

The four girls left behind managed to put their smiles back on, though they were still a bit stiff.

When Tanaka returned with the other groups, Masashi activated his Sharingan again. He scanned the newcomers, noting details invisible to the normal eye.

After a moment, he deactivated his Sharingan and gestured to four girls, including Chisato. "These four, I think. They seem... well-suited to our group."

Yaku nodded approvingly. "Excellent choices, Masashi. As expected of you."

Tanaka beamed, feeling he had provided superior service. "Wonderful selections, Masashi-sama! I'm so glad I remembered the other groups. Please, enjoy your evening!"

As the owner ushered out the unselected girls, Masashi leaned closer to Yaku.

"Yaku-sama, is there one you fancy…?" he asked with a smile, but he noticed Yaku's expression was rather awkward.

That puzzled him.

"Masashi…" Yaku seemed to be carefully choosing his words. "Don't you think using the Sharingan for something like this is a bit… much?"

What's so 'much' about it? How else are you supposed to tell if someone's padding their figure or not? Besides, this trick was actually…

Wait a minute…?

Masashi looked over at the others, noticing that Tetsuka and the others had their regular dark eyes, not their Sharingan. Suddenly, he had a realization.

You three usually keep your Sharingan active the whole time, but today you're acting innocent?

He turned back with a forced smile. "It's just more efficient this way…"

"That's true…" Yaku nodded with a sigh. "Ah, I forgot—you've just come back from the battlefield. It must feel natural to use the Sharingan for everything."

He then beckoned to the second girl on the left. "Come here, Chisato-chan~, don't be shy. Sit over here."

As the girl moved to Yaku's side, Masashi suppressed a smirk. So predictable, Yaku. Always the youngest. At least my judgment of your tastes hasn't failed me.