The bodies were cleared before sundown.

  The Fire Daimyō was escorted safely into Konoha under full ANBU guard, no injuries, no deys. On the surface, the mission was a success.

  But beneath it, the vilge began to churn.

  By nightfall, the Intelligence Division was already dissecting the attackers’ gear, chakra patterns, and seal tags. Their conclusion came fast—and with it, tension:

  Wind-style jutsu, sand-based techniques, and marked pouches used exclusively by Suna-nin.

  In the Hokage’s office, silence hung thick.

  Hiruzen Sarutobi stood by the window, arms folded behind his back, watching the smoke rise from the training sectors as night drills continued across the rooftops.

  Danzo Shimura stepped forward from the shadowed corner of the room, his cane tapping softly against the wood.

  “We both know what this means,” Danzo said.

  Hiruzen didn’t move.

  “They targeted the Daimyō. On our nd. With our shinobi escort. If we don’t respond with force, we look weak. And if we do respond without proof—”

  “We risk a war,” Hiruzen finished.

  Danzo nodded. “Then prepare.”

  Hiruzen finally turned to face him, eyes sharper than most ever saw.

  “I am. With care. Not with blunt force.”

  Danzo took a step forward. “Let me train the boy.”

  “No.”

  “He’s independent. Tactical. Cold. Efficient. Root would make him—”

  “Into what?” Hiruzen interrupted.

  Danzo stopped.

  The Hokage’s voice lowered, firmer now.

  “I’ve seen what Root does. What it turns people into. He’s already walking that edge. If you take him, he’ll become something we won’t be able to control.”

  Danzo’s expression didn’t change. “Exactly.”

  Hiruzen exhaled slowly. “That’s not the point.”

  Danzo’s tone sharpened. “Then what is?”

  The old man stepped closer.

  “I have pns for the boy.”

  Danzo’s one visible eye narrowed. “What kind of pns?”

  “Ones that let him choose who he becomes.”

  Danzo didn’t speak. He just turned, cloak trailing behind him as he exited through the side door in silence.

  Ken was summoned to the Hokage’s office the next morning.

  No formal escort. Just a single word from Daen:

  “Private.”

  When Ken entered, the room was quiet.

  No ANBU.

  No advisers.

  Just Hiruzen Sarutobi, sitting behind his desk, a freshly steeped pot of tea in front of him and a sealed folder with a single name written on top:

  Uchiha Ken.

  Ken stood silently, waiting.

  Hiruzen gestured to the seat in front of the desk.

  “Sit, Ken. No titles here.”

  Ken did.

  The Hokage poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward him. Ken didn’t touch it.

  “I’ve read every mission report since your academy days,” Hiruzen began. “Reviewed every technique you’ve filed. Every decision. Even the duel.”

  He paused.

  “You’ve been tested more in your first year than most jonin in their first five.”

  Ken didn’t respond. Just watched.

  “You understand what happened yesterday was more than just an ambush.”

  Ken nodded. “They wanted to see how we’d react. Politically and tactically.”

  “Correct.”

  Hiruzen leaned forward.

  “That was a message—from someone in or near the Sand Vilge. Meant to provoke. Meant to rattle the Fire Daimyō and shake his trust in Konoha.”

  Ken’s voice was ft. “Did it work?”

  “No. Because you and your squad prevented the worst-case scenario.”

  Hiruzen pulled the sealed file toward him and tapped it once with his finger.

  “And now, because of that, you’ve come into focus.”

  Ken tilted his head slightly. “Focus?”

  “Eyes are on you. Not just mine. Other nations will want to know how a cnless ten-year-old cut through enemy jutsu like he was born in the battlefield. Not many genin would fight off a foreign assassination unit and walk away with zero injury.”

  Ken didn’t flinch.

  “So what happens now?”

  Hiruzen’s expression sharpened. “Now, we prepare you for what’s coming.”

  He slid a smaller envelope across the desk.

  Ken opened it.

  Inside: a clearance tag—Special Designation Operative.

  Not ANBU.

  Not Root.

  But something in-between.

  “You’ll remain in Squad 9,” Hiruzen said. “But from now on, certain missions will come directly to you. Not through Daen. Not through the mission board. Through me.”

  Ken looked up. “Why?”

  “Because Konoha is about to enter a season of shadows. Tensions rising. Old alliances cracking. I need people who see clearly—and strike cleanly.”

  He paused, tone softening.

  “You're not like Itachi. Or Shisui. You don’t carry the cn in your spine. You carry crity.”

  Ken set the envelope aside. “And if I say no?”

  Hiruzen didn’t smile.

  “I don’t expect you to say yes. I expect you to act when it counts. And you’ve already proven you will.”

  Ken stood slowly.

  “One condition.”

  Hiruzen raised a brow.

  “I work with my team. Always.”

  The Hokage’s eyes lit slightly.

  “You have my word.”

  Ken nodded and turned to leave.

  Back at his apartment, Ken sat beside his sword.

  He unsealed the scroll Hiruzen had given him and id out the map—travel routes, mission temptes, the structure of this new designation.

  His fingers paused over one phrase:

  “Designated for independent adaptation of lethal force. Psychological autonomy required.”

  He didn’t need transtion.

  They were giving him permission to be exactly what he was.

  And hoping it wouldn’t break them.

  Across the vilge, Daen received a short message from Hokage’s personal courier:

  "Squad 9 remains active. But the boy will walk a second path beside you. Protect the team. He’ll protect the rest." – H.S.

  Daen sighed, folded the note, and tossed it in the fire.

  Then he whispered, “Try not to lose yourself, Ken.”