Overturning Konoha - Chapter 36: The Roaring Demon!

C-Rank Mission.

A type of assignment where the participants might sustain injuries. Such missions often involve requests from other nations—joining wars, providing escort, conducting background investigations, capturing or subduing dangerous beasts, or delivering classified documents. The reward typically ranges from thirty thousand to one hundred thousand ryō.

During C-Rank missions, encounters with enemy ninja are rare, making them relatively easier to handle.

At the entrance of Konoha, when Hakken Yoru and Itachi arrived that evening, the rest of the group had already been waiting for quite some time.

Aside from the brown-haired man and the pockmarked one who had tried to put Hakken in his place the previous afternoon, there was also a squinting old man dressed in an extravagant robe.

A distant noble relative from the Land of Hot Water—someone with status and influence.

Yes, a noble relative, living a life several times more comfortable and luxurious than that of a ninja.

This time, he had come to the Land of Fire for amusement. Now that his entertainment was over, it was time for him to return home.

Hakken’s team was tasked with escorting him safely back to the Land of Hot Water.

“Well, just two brats? How does the Hokage even run this place?”

The old man in fine clothes scowled, clearly unimpressed. The sight of Hakken Yoru and Itachi made him feel uneasy about his own safety.

This—this was what Konoha had become. Even trash from another nation dared to criticize the Hokage’s judgment.

Hakken let out a cold chuckle.

That tone of contempt, that sense of superiority when addressing ninja—this wasn’t new. It was an old, deep-rooted problem inherited from history.

At some point, shinobi had stopped being seen as protectors and instead became tools—things to be bought, used, and discarded.

Pay them, get the job done. If they failed, scold them.

Was this what being a ninja meant now?

No. This warped attitude could be traced all the way back to the founding of the Ninshū.

Sharing the sacred energy of chakra so freely, granting everyone the ability to refine it... That wasn’t inheritance—it was the seed that fueled endless wars and rising death tolls.

By the time the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, ruled the village, Konoha’s humility had already become something others mocked.

At the Five Kage Summit, he bowed and yielded with such grace. If not for the Second Hokage’s strong objection, he might have even given away the tailed beasts to other villages for free.

What a magnanimous spirit indeed.

Shaking his head, Hakken couldn’t even be bothered to respond. He simply stepped forward, leading the way.

The escort mission had officially begun.

But as they traveled, the nobleman from the Land of Hot Water and the two genin couldn’t help but keep glancing at the youth walking ahead.

The reason was simple—he hadn’t stopped swinging that strange blade in his hand the entire way.

“Ken-san, wasn’t today’s training already finished?”

Beside him, Itachi asked curiously.

They had gone straight from the training grounds to Konoha’s gate. Having woken up early, Itachi had already spent the morning sweating through drills with Hakken.

“Finished? Itachi, training like this never really ends.”

Hakken exhaled softly, shaking his head.

His daily quest had been upgraded—each swing of his sword now contributed to his growth. Never-ending.

As expected of you, Ken-san.

Nodding thoughtfully, Itachi began to move his hands, silently practicing.

He couldn’t afford to waste shuriken outside the training field, so instead, he used the time to work on his hand seal speed.

Hakken glanced at him, but swallowed back what he wanted to say.

He really wanted to tell Itachi that, later on, only straight-laced types would still be forming hand seals.

Wasn’t it enough to just clap your hands and summon what you needed?

After thinking about it, he decided to let it go.

At least for now, practicing hand seals wasn’t a bad thing.

He grabbed his sake gourd, took a sip, and kept swinging his Zanpakutō, his gaze drifting casually toward the forest beside the road.

He was here.

Even with his interference—helping Itachi graduate a year early—it hadn’t changed fate. The encounter was inevitable.

Had he been noticed?

Moments after the group passed by, a masked figure slowly emerged from the shadows.

It was clear—they were being watched.

As for the reason, it likely wasn’t just Obito’s curiosity. It probably had something to do with what Kakashi had said at the Memorial Stone.

“Seeing them always reminds me of my younger self.”

How utterly laughable.

Destroying someone else’s beliefs, only to watch their ideals crumble the same way his once had.

That—was what Obito sought to do.

The game had only just begun.

...

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The squad continued moving forward.

But just as they were about to pass through a dense stretch of forest, a dozen heavily armed samurai suddenly appeared, blocking their path.

Enemy attack!

For a brief instant, the atmosphere within the team froze.

Snapping back to his senses, the pockmarked man quickly drew a kunai and gripped it tightly in his hand before shouting toward the front, “Fall back! Protect Nao-sama!”

Is that so?

So his name is Nao.

Itachi didn’t move a muscle, already pulling out his shuriken, ready to attack at any moment. Meanwhile, Hakken stepped forward—in the exact opposite direction.

“Just as I thought. All bark, no bite. Scared stiff already! Still doesn’t get teamwork or follow orders.”

The brown-haired man snarled in frustration.

Real killers didn’t waste time with words.

As Hakken took another step forward, a figure lunged straight at him.

A flash of steel—followed by the sound of blood splattering onto the ground.

“Ken-san!”

Behind him, Itachi’s face tensed with concern as he watched Hakken catch the enemy’s blade effortlessly with one hand.

“Your strength… still falls short.”

The samurai froze. In that instant, he saw something terrifying in the boy’s eyes—something fierce and untamed.

Then came the sharp sting of pain in his chest. A plain, unassuming blade had pierced straight through him.

So this is pain.

The feeling of a real battle!

At that moment, the savage ferocity of a Shinigami’s beastly spirit fused completely with Hakken Yoru.

He had become death itself.

“Come then—let’s fight!”

Blood splattered across his face. Itachi stared at him, watching that once calm expression twist slowly into one of exhilaration.

The boy before him was both familiar and foreign.

But there was no doubt—this was Ken-san.

And following his lead, Itachi charged in as well.