Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The office of Daichi Uchiha was an imposing space designed to exude authority, even after being in it a couple of times, it still managed to intimidate Renjiro to some extent. The shelves lined with case files and scrolls framed the room, their labels meticulously marked with the Uchiha crest.

A polished wooden desk stood in the center, its surface cluttered with neatly stacked documents, inkpots, and a single, freshly uncapped brush.

The midday sunlight streamed in through the shoji windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing lazily in the air. Renjiro entered the room with measured steps, his ANBU mask absent but his demeanor no less guarded.

Daichi glanced up, his sharp, calculating eyes narrowing slightly at the unexpected visitor. Though Renjiro had not been summoned, Daichi already knew the purpose of his visit.

"Renjiro," Daichi greeted evenly, his deep voice resonating in the room. He placed his brush down with deliberate care, leaning back in his chair. "I wasn't expecting you today."

Renjiro inclined his head in respect but didn't sit, choosing to stand at a polite distance. "Clan Head," he began, his voice calm but respectful, as he slightly bowed.

Daichi observed him silently for a moment before speaking again. "Have you been on any missions recently?"

Renjiro blinked, slightly caught off guard by the directness of the question. 'No foreplay? Not even the pretence of small talk,' he thought wryly.

'Well, I guess that makes sense. I'm the one who came to him.'

"Yes," Renjiro said as he sat, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "I just returned."

Daichi's pen stilled against the parchment he was working on. His dark eyes narrowed slightly. "And where was this mission?"

"Kumogakure," Renjiro replied without hesitation.

The air in the room seemed to shift. Daichi's hand froze mid-stroke, and he slowly placed the pen down. "Kumogakure?" he repeated, his voice measured but tinged with disbelief.

"What business does ANBU have that far from Konoha?"

Though Daichi had never served in the ANBU, his position as the head of the police force afforded him access to surface-level information about the organization.

Missions in foreign lands were not unheard of, but one in the Land of Lightning—a region known for its hostility toward Konoha—was highly unusual and deeply concerning.

'Does the Hokage want to start a war?' Daichi wondered, his thoughts racing.

Out of all the major shinobi villages, Kumogakure was the farthest from Konoha and, arguably, the most antagonistic. Sending an ANBU team there was an unnecessary provocation.

'What was so important that they had to risk it?'*

Renjiro, sensing the unspoken questions in Daichi's silence, answered carefully. "We were sent to rescue compromised spies."

Renjiro met his gaze evenly, his tone steady. "We were tasked with rescuing spies whose identities had been compromised."

Daichi leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his chest as he processed this information. "A rescue mission?"

"That was the original plan," Renjiro admitted with a sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly as if weighed down by the memory.

Daichi's dark eyes narrowed. "What changed?"

Renjiro's jaw tightened briefly before he replied. "By the time we arrived, Kumo shinobi were already waiting for us. They ambushed us, led by A himself."

The mention of A caused Daichi's brows to knit together. He tapped a finger against the armrest of his chair in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his gaze never leaving Renjiro's face. "A. So, the Raikage's son himself was involved. That makes things more complicated."

"It did," Renjiro agreed quietly.

"Well," Daichi began, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of scepticism, "it must have been hard to escape from A. Seeing you here safe and sound, I assume your team managed to retreat successfully."

Renjiro's face darkened, and his reply came softly, tinged with regret. "Kakashi and I did. Yano… didn't make it."

The tapping stopped. Daichi's expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze boring into Renjiro's.

"What happened?"

"Yano sacrificed himself," Renjiro added, his hand flexing at his side as if suppressing some emotion. "He held them off so that Kakashi and I could escape."

It was a lie—a calculated one.

Renjiro knew that revealing the truth would mean disclosing the existence of his summon, Tenjin, and the other lightning eagles. Unlike his exchange with Jiraiya, Renjiro doubted Daichi would let such a revelation slide without extracting every detail.

'The clan wants information about ANBU, but no one said it had to be the whole truth,' Renjiro thought, suppressing an inward scoff.

"How noble of him," Daichi remarked, though the faint edge in his voice made it clear the sentiment wasn't entirely genuine. "And the spies? Were you able to extract them?"

Renjiro shook his head. "No. They all died during the confrontation."

Daichi's eyes narrowed again. "So, you didn't complete the mission?"

Renjiro hesitated, inhaling deeply before responding. "Not exactly. One of the spies, Takata, left behind a mark, some forbidden jutsu from the Yamanaka clan containing vital information he discovered in Kumogakure."

Daichi's interest was visibly piqued. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk and interlocking his fingers. "What kind of information?"

Renjiro's expression turned grim as he delivered the answer. "It seems someone within Konoha has been working with Kumogakure to smuggle people. Civilians, shinobi—anyone with unique bloodlines or ancestry. They're being taken to the Land of Lightning."

Daichi's eyes widened slightly, the weight of the revelation sinking in. "Do we know who this collaborator is?"

Renjiro shook his head. "Takata and his team were close to identifying them, but their cover was blown before they could confirm anything."

Daichi's face darkened, his expression betraying a mix of anger and concern.

The thought of someone aiding Kumogakure in such a scheme was troubling enough, but the implications for the Uchiha clan were even more severe.

'If they're targeting individuals with special abilities, the Uchiha could be next,' he thought grimly.

"This is… concerning," Daichi said finally, his voice heavy with meaning.

"We cannot allow such treachery to go unchecked. If this operation continues, it could put the entire village at risk—and the Uchiha most of all."

Renjiro nodded in agreement, adding, "It might also be connected to a mission I was on prior to this one. We were investigating a smuggling ring suspected to be run by Kumogakure, but we didn't gather enough evidence to link it conclusively."

Daichi tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. "If the two are connected, it means this operation is far larger than we initially thought."

The conversation lingered on the finer points of the mission, with Daichi probing for additional details while Renjiro carefully navigated the line between truth and omission. Finally, sensing that Daichi was satisfied for the moment, Renjiro rose from his seat.

"If that's all, Lord Daichi, I'll take my leave," he said politely.

Daichi waved a hand dismissively, already turning back to the parchment on his desk. "Go. And rest while you can, Renjiro. The clan may need you again soon."

"But don't forget where your loyalties lie, Renjiro." Daichi added

The young shinobi gave a small bow, his tone respectful but firm. "I haven't forgotten."

---

By the time Renjiro returned to his home, the sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of gold and amber. The quiet of his home was a welcome reprieve from the weight of the day's conversations.

He kicked off his sandals and sank into a chair, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Two months of no missions," he muttered to himself. "I need to make the most of it."

His eyes drifted to the high shelf across the room, where a familiar jar sat behind his seals. Rising from his chair, he approached the place slowly, his fingers brushing against the seal as he retrieved the jar.

Inside, a single Sharingan floated, its tomoe lazily rotating as if alive. Renjiro's grip on the jar tightened as he stared into the crimson depths of the eye.

"Time to get the Mangekyō," he whispered, his voice low but filled with resolve.

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