The wind carried the scent of morning bread as Ryosuke walked through Konoha's quieter market district. His sandals scraped faintly against the worn stone path, steps unhurried. It was early still—before the mid-day bustle—but already vendors were beginning to set up their stalls, their voices overlapping like birdsong.
He paused as he passed the familiar storefront: Takemura's Book Nook. The window, once proudly displaying a rotating stand of popular reads, now had a new feature—brightly colored children's books, a few shinobi memoirs, and the latest romance novels adorned with pink swirls and over-the-top titles.
But no sign of Dune.
Ryosuke's brow furrowed.
He stepped a bit closer to the glass, angling his head to look inside. The little display table that used to showcase his work was gone, replaced by a cheerful stack of "Leaf Love Stories: Volume 3." His books weren't even in the featured shelves lining the walls.
Instead, there they were—on the far side near the counter, partially obscured by a stack of blank scrolls and stationery. No signage. No recommendation tags. Just... shelved. Quietly.
Like someone had tucked them away on purpose.
A breath escaped him—half sigh, half scoff.
"This isn't public disinterest." His eyes narrowed slightly. "This is deliberate."
He didn't need proof. The patterns were obvious now. The way the discussions about his book had flared so brightly—then vanished, as though someone had pulled a sheet over the entire thing. No debate. No rebuttals. Just silence.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the council. To Danzo. To the quiet hands behind the curtain that didn't stab, but smothered. The way Hiruzen might shake his head at such tactics, disapprove even—but look the other way unless it was beneficial to him.
Unfortunately, he didn't want his name being smeared, even though the general public may not connect the dots.
He stood there a moment longer, staring through the glass.
And then—he laughed, he laughed extremely hard.
It wasn't loud, but it was clear. Sharp and amused in the most amused way.
He should have known, after the system prompts stopped, he had blocked them out of his mind and hadn't even noticed when they stopped but now it all made sense.
"Guess the truth was too loud," he murmured, while wiping off tears from the corner of his eyes, shaking his head as he turned away.
The breeze caught his cloak as he walked off, the laughter still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
As Ryosuke walked on, his pace unchanged, his senses stretched out like fine threads in water.
There.
The slight flicker of chakra just behind a food stall. Another presence, just beyond the alley to his left, pretending to linger with a newspaper. He might have been fooled if not for his strong scouting senses.
Ryosuke couldn't help but snicker to himself.
The surveillance had doubled since his return. It was clear the old warhawk had noticed the silence from his two missing subordinates. Ryosuke hadn't gone out of his way to leave a trail—but nor had he buried it. He didn't need to. The message was enough: Don't send dogs unless you're prepared to lose them.
Yet even as his mind traced the familiar pattern of danger, another part sparked. A seed of thought began to sprout, vivid and insistent.
He stopped under a tree near the training grounds. The breeze rustled the leaves above, but Ryosuke barely noticed.
What if the story was about a village that erased the voices it feared? Not through violence… but silence. A slow, quiet burial of truth. A place where books were banned not for lies, but for honesty that burned too close to the bone. Where the villain didn't wear a mask or wield a blade—but hid behind titles and peace offerings. Where fear wore the face of reason.
His fingers itched for a brush. For parchment. For solitude.
A small smirk touched his lips.
"Found my next book." he whispered.
---
Root headquarters-
The sound of shattering ceramic echoed through the cold stone hall as Danzo's hand withdrew from the wall. His tea cup lay in shards at his feet, but his one visible eye burned with something far more volatile.
Two shinobi. Hand-picked. Gone without a trace. Not dead in combat—no reports of scuffles, no noise. Just vanished.
It's clear who has done it. Who else but the man he had sent those two to bring back.
Ryosuke Uzumaki.
"He's not just calculating." Danzo growled under his breath. "His strength is dangerous, hiding himself so deeply."
He turned, cloak flaring behind him as he marched toward the inner sanctum. The Root agents in his path stepped back without a word.
This one won't be ignored.
Ryosuke wasn't like the others—idealistic fools or power-hungry chuunin begging for favor. He moved in shadows but held the public in his palm. With words. Ideas. And ideas could rot the foundation of a village far faster than any jutsu.
Danzo clenched his fists.
"If he cannot be controlled…"
He didn't finish the thought. He didn't need to.
But in the echoing silence of the hall, his resolve was clear.
"I'll bring him into Root. One way or another."
------
Ryosuke stood in the doorway of Kushina's home, arms folded. Kushina looked up from the book she was reading, her eyes narrowing.
"You've got that face again."
"What face?"
"The 'I'm about to do something you won't like' face."
Ryosuke offered a half-smile. "I'm moving into Mito-sama's place."
Kushina blinked. "You're serious? You are coming back? What happened, why now?"
He just smiled at her," Just because."
Kushina pouted,"Hmph! She's going to throw a teapot at you."
"Hahahah, that's fine."
The walk was quiet, peaceful as Kushina seemed to be pondering about something. As they reached the gates of the Senju estate, Kushina hesitated for a moment before following him in.
Surprisingly, Mito-sama opened the door, she looked from Ryosuke to Kushina, reading more than either of them was saying aloud. Her voice was calm, but distant.
"You're back."
"I want to stay here," Ryosuke said plainly. "I need to be safe, at least for a while."
Mito looked at him for a long, loaded moment.
"You will inexplicably drag her into this."
"She's already in it," Ryosuke said.
"I stayed out of her life to protect her from this!" Mito's voice cracked like thunder, not loud, but sharp—raw with emotion. "From this weight. This anger. And the politics that will come with it, she's not made for this! She deserves to live freely, not in your shadow of bitterness."
Ryosuke stood firm. "I'm not trying to poison her. But if we pretend everything is fine, then we're no better than them. This is the least you can do—for your clan. For her."
Mito's eyes shimmered with something old and worn—grief, guilt, and love all woven together.
She whispered. " Yo-..."
She sighed but continued,"You're alone in this. The weight of a great village is not something you can go against."
"Not for long.", Ryosuke smirked as he added," I have made a few friends."
She snorted but stepped back, letting them in. But as Ryosuke passed her, she caught his wrist.
"Don't let this hatred consume you," she said. "I know they wronged us. But if you pass that fire to her... she'll burn too. Just—don't make trouble. Not for yourself. Not for her."
Ryosuke's voice softened, just slightly.
"I don't hate Konoha. I am just dissatisfied with the actions of the people that run it."
Mito closed her eyes briefly, as if in prayer.
"I hope you find a way out, before it's too late."
There was a beat of silence. Then—
"So this is how he's back now," Kushina muttered.
Ryosuke turned. Tsunade stood leaning in the doorway, her expression complex as her gaze lingered on Ryosuke.
"Your anger may be justified," she said at last. "But it won't protect you."
He stayed silent while nodding blankly at her.
Tsunade gritted her teeth as Ryosuke just dismissed her words like nothing but she controlled herself as she looked at Kushina, then back at the room with Mito-sama. Something unspoken passed through her eyes—old knowledge, bitter certainty.
Then she turned to Kushina and said softly, very gently, "You should get ready, in two months time.Your body has to be as strong as possible."