"Uncle Dai, where's Guy?"
Shirō looked around but didn't see Might Guy anywhere. Normally, Guy almost never stopped training—if Dai was here, Guy should be too.
"Hoo—hoo—" Might Dai panted heavily as he lay on the ground. "Guy went for a run over there. He should be back soon."
Shirō glanced at Dai, who looked like he'd just crawled out of a battlefield, and said with a smile, "Uncle Dai, you should rest. It's not worth pushing yourself into another injury."
"Don't worry," Dai replied cheerfully. "I know my limits."
"Oh, please." Shirō gave him a flat look. "Other than Guy's training, when have you ever known your limits?"
"That was before," Dai said confidently. "Now that conditions have improved, I can naturally go all out."
"Heh." Shirō chuckled. "Just a reminder, Uncle Dai—even though you're a Special Jōnin now, you haven't taken a single mission yet. Which means… you're still broke."
The color instantly drained from Dai's face. He froze in place like a petrified statue.
A moment later—
"Damn it!!!"
Shirō watched as Dai began pounding the ground in frustration, thoroughly amused. Scenes like this were his favorite—only at moments like these could he truly feel like a rich man.
"I'm just saying, Uncle Dai," Shirō continued casually, "if you've recovered your strength, stop abusing the ground and get some proper rest. The faster you recover, the sooner you can take missions."
Dai sighed heavily. "Don't get your hopes up. I won't be getting missions for a while."
"Huh? Why?" Shirō frowned. "The Village shouldn't be short on missions. I haven't heard anything about downsizing."
"It's not the Village," Dai said helplessly. "It's me."
"You?" Shirō was confused. "The Village knows how strong you are. They wouldn't restrict you for no reason."
"It's not a restriction. The arrangement is for me to serve as a Special Jōnin for a period of time. Once I accumulate enough merit, I'll be promoted to full Jōnin. After that… depending on the situation, they might even consider me for elite status."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"It is," Dai admitted. "But it also means I'll become a Jōnin very quickly. And you know how teams usually work—one Jōnin leading Genin or Chūnin."
"So?" Shirō shrugged. "With your strength, even without opening the Eight Gates, you'd earn respect easily. If they doubt you, just take on a high-difficulty mission and prove it."
"That's not the issue," Dai said, scratching his head. "A team leader isn't just responsible for fighting. He has to teach mission experience, leadership, judgment… and you know my situation."
"…Yeah," Shirō admitted after a pause. "That is a problem."
Dai had been a Genin his entire life. He had almost no experience leading teams or handling complex missions. If Shirō hadn't dragged him out this time, this unpolished gem might have stayed buried forever.
You could ask Dai to fight—no problem.
But teaching mission experience?
Sorry. He was still learning that himself.
The Village's usual structure—one strong leader guiding weaker teammates—was meant to cultivate talent. Academy elites were placed under experienced Jōnin until they matured, after which teams were disbanded and reorganized.
But not every capable shinobi was an early bloomer.
Late bloomers like Dai existed—and that made the Village cautious.
Pairing Dai with a Jōnin would be a waste of combat power.
Pairing him with Chūnin would be unfair to them—they wouldn't learn anything useful.
As a result, Dai had been promoted to Special Jōnin six days ago… and still hadn't been assigned a team.
Special Jōnin-only units did exist, but those teams required not only strength, but also merit and trust. Dai's power was unquestionable—but his record wasn't.
Which meant that, injuries healed or not, Dai could only wait on standby.
"By the way," Dai suddenly asked, "Shirō, did you need something? You usually wouldn't come here at this hour."
"Yeah," Shirō nodded. "I wanted to talk to Guy—and I'm treating you both to a meal. I'll be applying to leave the Village for training soon. I might be gone for quite a while."
"…Because of the rumors?" Dai asked quietly.
"Partly," Shirō admitted. "Leaving for a bit should help things settle down faster."
Dai nodded. "That makes sense. Be careful."
"Relax," Shirō said confidently. "You know me. When have I ever taken unnecessary risks?"
"Hahahaha!" Dai laughed loudly. "That's true. Come on—Guy should be around that way. We'll wait for him first."
"Alright."
---
As always, it was the same old place—the barbecue restaurant.
Of all the food in Konoha, barbecue and ramen were Shirō's favorites. They were the closest to his previous life's tastes, so any gathering he organized usually ended up at one of those two places.
Given the current mood—and the appetites of these two—a barbecue restaurant was the obvious choice.
While waiting for the food, Shirō turned to Might Guy.
"Guy, have you managed to defeat Kakashi recently?"
Guy clenched his fist, eyes blazing. "The last duel was half a month ago—I lost. But I've improved a lot since then! If we fight again, I'll definitely win!"
He paused, then added seriously, "Still… Kakashi isn't in good condition right now. I'll challenge him again once he recovers."
"Good mindset," Shirō nodded. "But you don't need to wait. I'm giving you a mission—keep challenging Kakashi like usual. If you succeed, I'll grant you one wish."
"The reward doesn't matter," Guy said hesitantly. "But… is this really appropriate right now?"
"That's exactly why you should do it," Shirō replied calmly. "If he has nothing to focus on, he'll sink deeper. Giving him a rival, a goal—that's better than letting him rot. Can you do it?"
"Yes!" Guy answered without hesitation.
Then his tone abruptly changed.
"Then, Brother Shirō, my request is—"
"Anything but a green bodysuit or a bowl haircut!"
...
Both Dai and Guy instantly slumped, their heads hanging low like wilted vegetables.
"…Boring," they muttered in unison.
Shirō rolled his eyes. As expected—father and son were thinking the same thing again.
"You two really have no ambition," he sighed. Then he looked at Guy.
"But you could use this as a wager with Kakashi. Wouldn't that motivate you even more?"
A mischievous smile curved Shirō's lips—sharp and playful, like a husky plotting trouble.
---