The doors to the Konoha Mission Assignment Desk swung open, letting the afternoon sunlight spill into the slightly noisy hall alongside a new silhouette.
Konoha actually had a dedicated facility for mission assignments. With tens of thousands of official shinobi, the Hokage couldn't personally handle every single request. For standard missions, the Hokage only got personally involved with newly graduated squads and rookies.
"Yo, Shinichi!"
"Here to pick up a mission, Shinichi? Flying solo this time? You're not with Lady Tsunade, Shizune, and Kurenai?"
"Hey, hey, superstar mangaka! When's the next chapter dropping? When does the legendary kitchenware arc finally start? I'm dying over here!"
"Shinichi, that new dango shop you recommended last time is amazing!"
The moment Shinichi stepped through the door, enthusiastic greetings echoed from every corner of the hall. They came from familiar Chunin and Jonin seniors, regular desk clerks, and even a few resting Genin who were clearly fans of his manga.
Wearing his signature gentle smile, Shinichi made his way inside, effortlessly replying to the voices coming at him from all sides.
His demeanor was friendly and composed. He didn't ignore anyone, but he didn't linger too long in one spot either, keeping a steady pace toward the assignment counter. Along the way, almost everyone wanted to say hi or crack a harmless joke. His arrival seemed to instantly lighten the mood in the entire assignment center—a true testament to his incredible popularity in the village.
He stopped at an open window, where a kind-faced, middle-aged clerk was already smiling at him.
"Here you go, the latest mission list." The clerk slid a thick scroll ledger across the counter, his tone familiar and warm.
"Thanks, sir." Shinichi offered a modest smile, taking the ledger and leaning against the counter as he quickly skimmed it.
Though he was a member of Team 10, his rank as a Chunin—the backbone of Konoha's shinobi forces—gave him the clearance to take C-rank and B-rank missions independently, as long as they didn't conflict with his squad's schedule.
Over the past few months, he had been using the downtime between team assignments to pick up short, nearby solo missions. The staff at the desk had grown completely used to this routine.
As for whether he might run into trouble or attract unwanted attention while flying solo?
They could take that up with Senior Ape Demon King and Big Sis Katsuyu.
In this business, you need backing!
Scanning the mission descriptions, Shinichi asked casually, "Sir, do you have anything close to the village today? Ideally, something I can wrap up in a single day."
"Actually, I do." The clerk grinned triumphantly, pulling out a pre-sorted mission sheet from beside him and sliding it over. "Take a look at this one. Tsukimi Village, northeast of here. It's an old problem—brown bears harassing the locals. C-rank. It's close by. At your speed, you'll be there in less than a day. It shouldn't be too much of a hassle to handle. If all goes well, you might even be back in time for breakfast tomorrow, haha."
Shinichi took the sheet. Seeing the familiar village name and the "brown bear hazard" description, he couldn't help but laugh. "Tsukimi Village? Them again? I think they put in a similar request last year. Those big guys in the woods haven't settled down after all this time?"
"Who knows?" The clerk shrugged, his tone laced with helpless amusement. "They report it every year, and we send someone every year."
"Alright, I'll take it. Please register it for me, sir."
"You got it!" The clerk efficiently processed the paperwork. As he stamped the forms, he added, "Shinichi, even if it's just brown bears, be careful out there. When wild animals go berserk, they're nothing to sneeze at."
"Understood. Thanks for the heads-up." Shinichi nodded, taking the officially stamped mission scroll and tucking it away securely.
As he left the center, another wave of goodbyes and playful teasing followed him out.
"Stay safe out there, Shinichi!"
"Hurry back! We're waiting on that new manga chapter!"
"Wrap it up quick, and I'll treat you to BBQ when you get back!"
Shinichi smiled and waved. His figure quickly blended into the bustling crowds on the Konoha streets as he made a steady beeline for the village gates.
---
Ink-black night dyed the dense forests around Tsukimi Village into a deep, heavy darkness. Deep in the mountains, far from the village lights, a crackling campfire provided the only dancing source of illumination.
Suspended above the flames on a makeshift rack of thick branches were massive slabs of bear meat, sizzling with fat and dripping with mouth-watering aromas.
Sitting by the fire was a remarkably tall, heavily built teenager. He looked to be around fifteen or sixteen, with sharp, chiseled features. The rugged aura he had forged amidst the snow and swordplay of the Land of Iron made him appear much older and far more stoic than his actual age.
Right now, he was sitting cross-legged with zero regard for etiquette, clutching a freshly carved chunk of bear leg that was charred on the outside and tender on the inside. He tore into it with massive bites, his mouth shining with grease in a display of unbridled, savage appetite.
A small pot sat bubbling nearby, steaming with a rich broth made from wild vegetables and bear bones.
His signature katana, along with his menacing long-handled halberd, leaned casually against a nearby tree trunk. The blades occasionally caught the firelight, flashing with a deadly, cold gleam.
Suddenly, a faint rustle of leaves echoed from the edge of the woods—a sound so subtle it practically melted into the night breeze.
The teenager by the fire—the clone, Isshin—didn't so much as pause his chewing. He didn't even bat an eye. Acting as if the noise was nothing more than the mountain wind, he stayed completely focused on his roast meat and the hot soup in front of him.
A moment later, Shinichi Higashino stepped silently out of the forest shadows.
Though his face bore a passing resemblance to the teen by the fire, Shinichi looked younger and more refined. He carried the sharp, polished edge of a systematically trained Konoha shinobi, which sharply contrasted with Isshin's weathered, wild, and rugged foreign silhouette.
Shinichi glanced at his clone pigging out by the fire, then swept his eyes over the two lifeless brown bear carcasses lying nearby. He walked straight up behind Isshin and naturally reached out, giving the clone's broad, solid shoulder a light pat.
The instant his palm made contact, an invisible connection engaged.
Deep within Shinichi's consciousness, the trait representing [Clone (Blue)] pulsed with a faint glow, and the interface for trait allocation materialized clearly in his mind.
With a mere thought, he manipulated the interface like a piece of precision machinery, swiftly and expertly adjusting the allocation and activation states of several talent traits on Isshin's body.
The first one he unequipped was [Diligent Practice Makes Up for Weakness]. Its effect was "increases focus and guarantees slight improvement," but for the current Shinichi, it had honestly become a bit useless.
That "slight" degree of improvement was practically negligible compared to the massive leaps in progress granted by traits like [Genius] and [Lucid Insight].
But it wasn't completely worthless. Shinichi knew full well that the true value of a "guaranteed improvement" trait lay in the future. It would be essential for those times when he hit a bottleneck and couldn't advance an inch no matter how hard he tried. When that time came, the slow, steady, compounding power of [Diligent Practice] could be the exact key needed to break the deadlock.
But right now, it was useless for the Isshin clone. Thanks to the integrated Ape Demon King bloodline traits, Isshin's strength would naturally grow even if he did nothing but sleep all day. It was better to free up the slot so a more compatible trait could shine.
The trait reallocation was a brief, silent process, over in the blink of an eye.
Once finished, Shinichi pulled his hand back, walked around the crackling campfire, and casually sat down across from his clone.
Settling in, he reached right over and ripped a perfectly roasted bear steak off the rack. He scooped half a bowl of scalding broth from the pot and started digging in, minding his own business.
For a while, the only sounds in the forest clearing were the crackle of the fire, the quiet noises of two people chewing, and the occasional howl of the night wind rustling through the canopy.
There was no conversation. They simply didn't need it.
The dancing firelight illuminated two young faces—subtly connected, yet entirely distinct.