How did this turn into killing Uchiha again?
Do you have the same obsession with them as Lord Danzō or something?
The Root shinobi was full of question marks.
This guy's hostility toward the Uchiha is way too strong, isn't it?
…Though, in a way, that did make him fit Root quite well.
"Ahem." The Root ninja coughed lightly. "Focus on the mission. Don't fixate on the Uchiha."
Even though Lord Danzō constantly targeted the Uchiha—occasionally eliminating a genius or harvesting a few three-tomoe Sharingan—it couldn't be done too frequently.
Otherwise, the Uchiha clan would grow suspicious.
Akira clicked his tongue.
He was still short on Sharingan.
Right now, a single tomoe just wasn't enough.
He opened the scroll.
"Eliminate ninja with intent to defect."
The document listed detailed profiles, names, and the areas they frequented.
Akira frowned.
"So I'm supposed to act inside the village?"
"These individuals intend to abandon Konoha out of fear of war," the Root operative replied. "Root has ordered their complete elimination."
He turned to leave.
"Wait."
The man stopped and looked back.
"What now?"
"My payment," Akira said. "I never got paid for my last two missions. Where do I collect?"
…Payment?
The Root ninja's expression turned strange—thankfully hidden beneath his mask.
Payment?
Root… had that?
After all these years, he'd never heard of such a thing.
Where were they supposed to collect it—from the Pure Land?
"Don't tell me there's no pay for missions," Akira said, eyes widening.
The Root ninja nodded.
"That's correct. However, your case might be different. You can ask Lord Danzō."
Once your humanity is erased, what do you need money for?
Akira wasn't like them.
He didn't even have the Tongue-Sealing Curse Mark.
He hadn't even set foot inside Root headquarters.
Calling him a Root member was already a stretch.
Akira felt one thing very clearly:
These guys were peak corporate slaves.
Doing the most dangerous, thankless work—
and not getting paid a single coin.
Even office workers would cry seeing this.
Capitalists, on the other hand, would be thrilled.
This was exactly the kind of workforce they dreamed of.
But him?
No chance.
He didn't join Root to be exploited.
He joined to… replace Danzo—
cough… to serve Konoha, of course.
But still—
"You want me to risk my life for Root, kill a few chunin and genin, and not even pay me?"
"I quit."
The Root ninja froze.
…So if they were jonin, you'd do it?
His mind filled with confusion.
"If you have objections, report them to your superior—or directly to Lord Danzō," he replied mechanically.
"I don't have the authority to change anything."
Helpless.
Akira clenched his fist.
They really were treating him like unpaid labor.
No salary, yet expecting results?
This kind of black-hearted employer deserved to be hung from a streetlamp.
"No pay, no work."
"Once I finish this mission, I'm definitely going to have a word with Danzō."
Please refer to him as Lord Danzō, the Root ninja complained internally.
So you're still going to do the mission anyway?
Then what was all that complaining for?
Of course, Akira wasn't going to give up the experience.
But working for free?
Absolutely not.
After this, he was definitely collecting his dues.
"Any other questions?" the Root ninja asked.
Akira actually did have one.
"Why don't you take me to the Root base?"
"Please direct that question to your superior or Lord Danzō."
What are you even useful for?!
Akira shot him an annoyed glare.
Was that the only line he knew?
"Any other questions?"
"No."
"Then I'll take my leave."
The Root operative vanished.
Left alone, Akira muttered under his breath.
"This Root organization really is a black company. No way Danzō's pocketing my salary."
Unlike Hiruzen—
who never delayed wages and even handed out benefits on the battlefield.
No wonder he was Hokage.
With Danzō's management style, who would willingly work for him?
Hokage?
Keep dreaming.
Akira looked back at the scroll.
"Five chunin, three genin…"
All civilians. No clan shinobi.
That made sense.
Clan ninja were rooted in Konoha.
They wouldn't abandon it.
And jonin?
Anyone who reached that level was deeply loyal to the village.
"…Feels like I'll never become a jonin," Akira muttered.
He had zero loyalty to Konoha.
If anything, he was tempted to farm the entire village.
With that kind of "loyalty," passing a jonin evaluation was impossible.
Fujiwara Senshu sat alone in a corner, drinking.
As a chunin of Konoha, his life had once been decent.
Dangerous—but well-paid.
He had thought he could drift through life like this forever.
Then the war came.
His friends died.
His classmates died.
He barely survived.
Even now, he had only been sent back to recover—
and soon, he would be deployed again.
He didn't want to go.
He was afraid.
He didn't want to die on some battlefield.
So—
he wanted to leave.
There were many like him.
War bred fear.
Even if they didn't want to betray Konoha—
they only had one life.
"Is this seat taken?"
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
A long-haired man sat down beside him without waiting for an answer.
"Hey, I didn't say you could sit there," Fujiwara said coldly.
"Oh, sorry, sorry."
The man stood up apologetically—
then subtly stepped closer.
Too close.
That distance crossed Fujiwara's combat instincts.
Even in the village, habits from the battlefield didn't fade.
Still…
this was Konoha.
He relaxed slightly.
"Serpent Strike."
The man's arm snapped forward like a snake—
striking Fujiwara's neck.
His trachea and cervical spine shattered instantly.
His eyes widened.
His mouth opened—
but no sound came out.
"Ah… looks like he drank too much," Akira said casually, still disguised with a Transformation Jutsu.
I didn't drink—!!
Darkness swallowed Fujiwara whole.
Akira walked out of the restaurant as if nothing had happened.
No one noticed.
[+1354 EXP]
[Genjutsu: Hell Viewing Technique]
[Konoha Armor: +100 Defense]
The armor could be melted into essence.
The genjutsu… somewhat useful.
Stepping outside, Akira glanced at the scroll and marked it with a pen.
"First one."
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