The summons came in the early hours of the morning, slipped under Ken’s door in a scroll sealed with triple ANBU bck sigils—the kind reserved for operations that weren’t supposed to be written down, let alone spoken of.

  Ken was already awake.

  He rarely slept more than three hours now.

  Inside the scroll, there were two lines:

  “Shisui Uchiha’s body recovered near Rain border. Your orders: retrieve, confirm identity, and extract ocur remains.”– Commander Ryou

  Ken stared at those st words for a long time:

  “Extract ocur remains.”

  Cold. Clinical. Disgusting.

  He rolled the scroll shut, pocketed it, and didn’t say a word to anyone.

  But inside?

  Something cracked.

  Three days ter, Ken stood alone on a ridge deep within Rain Territory, staring down at a shallow ravine below.

  The ndscape was pockmarked with old craters, bomb-scorched trees, and knee-deep mist that never quite left.

  The corpse y curled beneath a tarp in an abandoned Rain transport wagon. No guards. No markings. Whoever dropped it here wanted it found.

  Ken moved silently.

  Unwrapped the tarp.

  And stopped.

  It was Shisui.

  Or at least—it looked like him.

  Hair matted. Skin pale. Uchiha crest still faint on the torn fk jacket. A single sword burn across his abdomen. But most haunting—

  No eyes.

  Ken’s breath caught.

  He scanned the chakra residue.

  Recent tampering. Post-mortem. Precision incision work.

  Someone had already taken what they came for.

  He left the body untouched, burned a containment tag, and sealed the remains in a storage scroll for respectful return—not because of the order, but because Shisui deserved better.

  As he left, he whispered to the wind:

  “Sorry I wasn’t faster.”

  Upon returning to the vilge, Ken delivered the scroll to Ryou without ceremony. The man accepted it, nodding once.

  “HQ will confirm the eyes are missing. Possible trade among rogue Akatsuki buyers.”

  Ken didn’t reply.

  He didn’t want to know who was looking to buy Shisui’s legacy.

  He just wanted to ensure no one else could wear it.

  For the next few days, Ken buried himself in training—both to keep his hands busy and to silence the lingering ghost of the mission.

  He met Might Guy just past sunrise, where the older jonin was already stretching in handstand position atop one of the training poles.

  “Ken!” Guy yelled upside down. “You’ve got the look of someone haunted! Let’s sweat that out of you!”

  Ken blinked. “I thought we were doing reflex drills.”

  “We are!” Guy grinned. “With ankle weights and smoke bombs!”

  Ken groaned. “You really are a sadist.”

  But he trained anyway.

  Reflex work. Speed drills. Pressure-response taijutsu. For the first time in weeks, Ken felt alive, not just alert.

  Afternoons were spent in the restricted wing of the shinobi library, where Ken used his new rank to access Level 4 Fuinjutsu scrolls—advanced barrier theory, sealing disruption tags, and chakra memory tags.

  He read for hours.

  Then used shadow clones to triple his learning rate.

  One clone focused on replication seal failure points.

  Another practiced sealing ink infusion techniques on wood panels.

  The real Ken meditated between them, absorbing their feedback like an echo chamber.

  By the end of the week, he could create a chakra-reactive minefield with less than six tags and no vocal command.

  He wasn’t just getting stronger.

  He was getting smarter.

  Back at home, over dinner, Ken sat across from Daiki, who looked particurly strained.

  Airi, usually chatty, was quiet—hands wringing her tea cup.

  Ken gnced between them.

  “What happened?”

  Daiki rubbed his temples. “The vilge… assigned Sasuke’s education to me.”

  Ken blinked. “What?”

  Airi nodded. “They want Daiki to oversee all training reted to Uchiha techniques—chakra control, Sharingan usage, the cn archives.”

  Ken leaned forward.

  “You okay with that?”

  Daiki hesitated.

  Then sighed. “No. But I’m doing it.”

  Ken watched his father closely.

  “You don’t have to rebuild the cn, Dad.”

  “I’m not.” Daiki looked at him. “But Sasuke deserves someone who remembers what we were—before we broke.”

  Ken nodded slowly.

  “Then make sure he becomes something better.”

  Two days ter, Ken was summoned to Hokage Tower.

  This time, it wasn’t an ANBU mission scroll.

  It was Hiruzen Sarutobi himself, seated alone, the blinds drawn, the windows closed.

  “You’ve risen farther than anyone expected,” the Hokage said.

  Ken remained standing. “I’m still breathing. That’s enough.”

  Hiruzen gave a thin smile.

  “I’m assigning you as a provisional ANBU captain. Effective immediately.”

  Ken didn’t flinch, but he knew the weight of that title.

  Captain meant strategy. Responsibility. Exposure.

  “You’re sending me away,” he said.

  Hiruzen nodded. “To the Hidden Sand. Unofficially.”

  Ken raised an eyebrow.

  “Expin.”

  Hiruzen’s voice dropped.

  “Wind Daimyō is pnning to reduce shinobi funding in favor of private militia. Suna’s elders are panicking. Your mission is to destabilize that alliance—quietly. Sow doubt. Make the Daimyō see the Leaf as the more stable partner.”

  Ken processed it.

  “You want me to pnt seeds of mistrust.”

  “I want you to preserve peace, Ken. Before a new war starts from across the desert.”

  Ken nodded.

  “When do I leave?”

  Hiruzen passed him the scroll.

  “Dawn.”

  That night, Ken didn’t sleep.

  He stood under the stars, bde in hand, training seals etched into the ground around him like a ritual circle.

  He wasn’t a child of the Uchiha anymore.

  He wasn’t just an ANBU.

  He was becoming something else—a pyer in the game behind the curtain.

  And if the Hidden Sand wanted war?

  They’d have to get through Sei first.