Renjiro exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of Daichi's words settling across his shoulders like a new flak vest—unfamiliar, stiff, and undeniably real. He looked down at the scroll he carried, the names of ten squads under his command inked in sharp, formal calligraphy. His new assistant's name, Arata Kamizuki, echoed in his mind.
He found a low stone bench near the outer courtyard and sat down with a low grunt.
Renjiro tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his lips.
'At least I recognize two names, so it's not completely bad.'
'Maybe the gods are finally giving me a break," Renjiro thought, a faint trace of irony on his lips.
He tapped the edge of the parchment with the tip of his finger, eyes narrowing slightly at Arata Kamizuki's name. So this is my shadow. Not quite subordinate, but not quite equal either. A stand-in, a proxy—someone meant to keep the ship afloat while the captain dove into deeper waters.
A flicker of doubt passed through him, quick and cold, like the feeling you got just before walking into a trap you couldn't see. Delegation had never come easy to him. It wasn't about control, not really. It was about scars. And he had plenty—some old, some fresh, some that didn't show at all.
He'd learned the hard way that trust was like a kunai: useful, essential, deadly in the wrong hands. You threw it hoping it hit its mark, but sometimes it came back—spinning through the dark, aimed squarely at your back.
Still… he wasn't a genin or a chunin anymore. If he was going to survive this war, these assignments, these layers of espionage and diplomacy and bloodshed the Hokage kept layering like traps in a forest, then he had to start thinking like a captain. Like a leader.
"Alright," he muttered, brushing a stubborn strand of red hair out of his eyes. "Time to start acting like one."
With the practised ease of someone who'd tied too many mission scrolls in his life, he rolled the document up and fastened it shut. The next step was simple: gather the squad leaders, establish the chain of command, assess their readiness—and most importantly, get a read on Arata. Was the boy competent? Ambitious? A follower? Or something else entirely?
He needed to know, because when things went sideways—and they would—Arata might be the only one keeping the squads together.
A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him turn as he stepped toward the exit. A familiar figure in standard Jōnin attire stood beneath the threshold, waiting patiently with his arms loosely crossed and a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Kagami," Renjiro called the weight in his voice lifting slightly.
"Still slow to leave a room, I see," Kagami Uchiha said, walking toward him with easy familiarity, his sandals clapping softly against the polished wooden floor. "Always the last to finish a debrief. I have been waiting since it's been long since we talked."
Renjiro rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "And you still dress like you're about to be ambushed in your own compound."
Kagami chuckled. "Habits die hard. You know how it is."
They exchanged a firm clasp of hands—brief but strong.
"I heard the announcement," Kagami said. "Congratulations, Captain Uzumaki."
Renjiro shook his head lightly. "Let's not start with the formalities. Next, you'll be bowing and I'll have to pretend I deserve it."
Kagami smirked. "Come on. It wasn't that long ago we were celebrating your promotion to Jōnin and now look at you."
They both laughed—low, easy laughter born of the rare camaraderie that only field missions and shared close calls could forge.
"How's Hae?" Renjiro asked, adjusting his scroll under his arm. "And Shisui?"
Kagami's features softened at the mention of his family. "They're doing well. Hae retired recently—she's spending more time at home, taking care of things. She says it's because of the war, but I think she just wants to make sure Shisui doesn't burn down the backyard training ground."
Renjiro raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was your job."
"She's better at it," Kagami admitted. "And… well, we're thinking of giving Shisui a sibling."
A pause. A small smile lingered at the edge of Kagami's lips.
Renjiro's eyes widened for a moment. "Congratulations in advance, then. Though I suppose I'll have to buy another bottle of sake if we're throwing another celebration."
"Just don't 'tactically relocate' it this time," Kagami said, his voice warm with amusement.
They stood at the edge of the corridor for a beat longer before Renjiro's gaze drifted toward the paper in his hand.
"I'm meeting with my assigned squad leaders tomorrow," he said. "Including an assistant, I didn't ask for. Hokage's orders. You know how it is."
Kagami gave a knowing grunt. "They're assigning assistants already? Must mean you're being eyed for higher duties."
"Or deeper holes to fall into," Renjiro replied. "It's more than I expected. More than I wanted."
"But it's also more than most ever get," Kagami said gently. "You earned it."
Renjiro shifted uncomfortably, waving the compliment away. "Let's just say I missed when my biggest concern was filing patrol reports and dealing with drunk merchants."
"Ah," Kagami chuckled knowingly. "Glorious days of settling bar fights."
"You know what I don't miss?" Renjiro replied dryly, holding up a finger. "The paperwork. And the meetings. And the constant lectures about 'appropriate chakra restraint when detaining hostile civilians.'"
"Or," Kagami offered, "'stop interrogating civilians with genjutsu just because they insulted your hair.'"
Renjiro groaned. "That happened once. And it wasn't even my hair—it was my eyebrows."
They laughed again, and Renjiro felt the tension in his chest ease slightly. It was easy to forget, with war looming like an ever-present storm cloud, that friendships like this still existed—tethered in memory and familiarity.
"Any pointers?" Renjiro asked, finally serious. "About commanding a unit of this size?"
Kagami nodded thoughtfully, leaning one shoulder against the hall's beam. "Listen more than you talk. Know each squad leader's strength and temperament, not just their stats. And most importantly—trust them, but watch them."
Renjiro absorbed the words.
"You're not there to micromanage," Kagami continued. "You're there to direct the flow of the battle. If you try to control everything, something important will slip past your fingers. But if you create a structure they can rely on… you'll be surprised how well they rise to the occasion."
Renjiro gave a slow nod, the weight of the advice settling in. "Thanks, Kagami."
"Anytime," Kagami said. "And hey—when Shisui finally graduates from the academy, I expect you to keep an eye on him."
Renjiro smirked. "You sure you want him near me? I'm a bad influence."
"Exactly," Kagami said, pushing away from the beam. "He'll learn faster."
With a final clap on the shoulder, Kagami turned and walked off down the corridor, his silhouette disappearing behind the curve of the compound walls.
Renjiro stood alone once more, the dying light of late afternoon casting long shadows on the paper in his hand. He glanced at the list again. Ten squads. One assistant. A whole lot of responsibility. And a war coming closer with every breath.
He exhaled deeply, pushing open the sliding door that led to the outer walkway. The cool breeze of evening kissed his face, rustling the edge of his flak jacket as he looked out over the rooftops of the Uchiha compound. Lanterns were being lit, one by one, casting golden pools of light across the darkening courtyards.
He could already see the meeting in his mind—half of them unsure of his leadership, the others waiting to test it. And somewhere in the middle, Arata Kamizuki, the assistant he hadn't asked for, looming with unknown ambition and unpredictable intent.
But that was tomorrow's battle.
Tonight, he walked the narrow path back toward his quarters, hands in his pockets, mind already sorting through battle formations and contingency plans.
A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Yeah," he muttered to himself, "I really haven't missed the Police Corps at all."
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