Ryusei soon arrived in front of the Hokage Building, as usual, ten minutes early. Punctuality was part of his “cordial” mask.

The place bustled with activity: messengers hurrying in and out, clerks carrying stacks of scrolls, shinobi filing through in steady streams.

Even here, discipline ruled; no one darted around at high speed like in his old world’s action movies. Even shinobi had to walk normally through doors, it seemed.

Nobody paid him much attention, which was exactly how he liked it.

The building itself wasn’t particularly majestic compared to the grand marble monuments from his past life.

It was big, practical, with a slightly rough finish, fitting for a military village. He squinted at its size, made a mental note, and smirked to himself.

‘Yeah… probably no more than fifty thousand people total. Ten percent shinobi? Five thousand, maybe, give or take.’

He had pieced that guess together from what he had read in the past month, mixed with his own estimations. Not exactly a census report, but close enough.

Walking the dirt-packed streets this morning, he still found it strange. Electricity existed here, yet the ground was still mud and dust.

Cables and lamps above, feet sinking into muck below.

‘A world where you can spit fireballs but still trip in puddles on the main road… guess that’s about right.’

By now, after a month, he had adapted to such contradictions. If anything, he almost found them funny.

His eyes wandered to the distant Hokage Rock, towering behind the building like a carved mountain of authority.

The original Ryusei’s instincts stirred within him again, flooding him with a faint, bitter disgust.

Old resentment toward the Hokage line burned there, impossible to shake. He clicked his tongue and turned his gaze away.

Right beside the Hokage Building stood another landmark: the Uchiha Police Force headquarters and clan compound.

‘So they were based here before they got relocated,’ he thought, as if surprised at the proximity.

Their position was telling, closer to the village center than even the Hyūga estate. Watching the uniformed police filtering in and out, he couldn’t help but note how many Uchiha were present in broad daylight, patrolling with that same air of authority they always carried.

However, just then, Ryusei was surprised to notice one group of Uchiha officers breaking off and moving in his direction.

At first, he assumed they were simply passing by on patrol, but then his eyes caught the one walking at the front.

The leader was a girl around his own age, her steps firm, her head high, clad in the crisp uniform of the Uchiha Police Force.

The older men behind her, five in total, each clearly veterans in their twenties or thirties, kept one step back.

Their posture told the story: they were following her lead, not the other way around.

Kiyomi Uchiha.

Her appearance hit him even before her chakra signature did.

A very pretty face, delicate yet sharp, almond-shaped, feline-like eyes framed by thick lashes, her onyx irises reflecting the morning light.

Long, straight black hair fell neatly against her shoulders, swaying with each step. A small, pointed nose, full lips, and a smooth, oval face gave her an almost flawless balance.

Despite the heavy uniform and her young age, there were already traces of figure forming beneath it, hints of maturity blooming early.

Together with her expression, proud, unflinching, domineering, it was no wonder the older men at her back treated her with such respect.

His former classmate and a top scorer genius of that class. His old tormentor.

The memories came unbidden. That sparring exam where he had deliberately held back, like always. But she hadn’t believed it.

Since then, she had challenged him over and over, needling him, pestering him, throwing her heavy-handed strikes at him in every training bout, unlike other classmates.

To her, his restraint was hypocrisy, his polite mask a provocation.

She wanted him to stop pretending, to fight seriously, and she never let him forget it.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Ryusei,” she said, her tone cool, but carrying that blade-like sharpness of challenge she always used with him. “Still walking around like you’ve got nothing to prove?”

Her five subordinates glanced between the two of them, some raising brows in surprise.

Ryusei forced the same narrow-eyed expression the original owner had always worn, the faint curve of a “gentle” smile that in truth looked like a schemer’s mask. He gave her a short bow, the picture of polite indifference.

“Kiyomi. Congratulations on your promotion,” he said calmly. “It suits you.”

Her Sharingan flared for a split second, the red glow catching the light. “Don’t patronize me.”

Same as always.

Ryusei’s brows lifted the slightest fraction.

“Opening your eyes for me already? I’m flattered.” His smile shifted, more genuine than the mask he usually wore. 

He really hadn’t expected her to open her Sharingan just for this, as if showing off to him of all people. It was… oddly cute. Especially how the red glow played against her jet-black hair, the contrast almost too perfect.

Unlike the body’s original owner, who hated her with a passion, this Ryusei felt nothing of the sort.

To him, she was just a textbook Uchiha personality, sharp, proud, and intense, only in a female form.

Given her noble standing in the clan, it was hardly surprising she turned out this way.

If anything, he figured she was simply ‘intrigued’ by him rather than hostile.

Whether she realized it or not, there was no real malice behind her sharpness.

Back on Earth, he’d seen plenty of characters just like her. The word for it was “tsundere.”

“Two tomoe now, huh. Congratulations, it seems fortune really does come in pairs.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, though whether in irritation or pride, it was impossible to tell.

‘Hah—why does it feel like I’m the one showing off to him? Why did he say that?’, Kiyomi thought, irritation mixing with a strange heat in her chest. ‘I only wanted to pressure him, like always…’

For a moment, she actually felt embarrassed. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Was he always this slick?’

‘Not cute.’

Usually, she enjoyed the way he secretly glared at her, like he wanted to eat her alive but couldn’t.

That expression of frustrated hostility had always amused her and made her boring days in the Academy pass better.

But now, with that sly smile meeting her Sharingan head-on, the feeling was different.

Kiyomi frowned, visibly unsettled, and silence stretched between them. Her team shifted uneasily, surprised to see their leader hesitate.

She had only meant to humiliate him again after spotting him there by chance, this time with the weight of her new squad behind her.

Yet his odd words, paired with that faintly genuine but teasing smile she had never seen from him before, stirred something unfamiliar. 

A strange, unidentifiable feeling slipped in, dulling her focus for the briefest instant.

Ryusei let the silence hang, not moving, not breaking eye contact. His faint smile stayed in place, calm and steady, as if he had all the time in the world.

Meanwhile, she straightened quickly, forcing her tone back into the sharp edge she always used with him.

“Hmph. Don’t get the wrong idea. Just because you learned how to smile properly doesn’t mean you’ve changed.”

Ryusei tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. The line was out of place, almost unrelated to what they had been saying. She was clearly rattled by even those small gestures of his.

‘If I can’t handle a little girl like this,’ he thought dryly, ‘I might as well pack up and float around as a soul again.’

Kiyomi folded her arms, trying to mask her unease with confidence. “Don’t think I’ll let you get away with that smug attitude forever. One day, I’ll crush that act of yours.”

Ryusei’s smile deepened ever so slightly, his voice light. “Looking forward to it. Though I have to warn you… if you’re already flustered by a smile, you’ll have a hard time getting that far.”

Her lips parted, as if to fire back, but no words came immediately. Instead, she clicked her tongue, cheeks heating in spite of herself. “Tch… you—!”

Before she could gather her next strike, Ryusei’s gaze flicked over her shoulder. He straightened, expression cooling into polite composure.

“My captain’s here,” he said smoothly. “I have a mission.” He gave her a small bow, just deep enough to be courteous, and stepped past her toward the approaching figure.

Kiyomi blinked, thrown off by the sudden ending, the rhythm of the exchange snapping before she could realize how easily she had been led around.

Her squad glanced at her curiously, but she kept her eyes fixed on Ryusei’s back as he walked away.

Ryusei’s thoughts, however, stayed calm and sharp. He hadn’t teased her just for fun.

Shifting the balance now was like slipping her a potion, something to stop her from trying to humiliate him in public again or make a scene, to blunt her edge when it mattered.

More importantly, she was a piece he had plans for in the future, and this was only the first move.

Of course, her little reactions, the faint twitch of her lips, the way her composure cracked under pressure, those were amusing in their own right.

Maybe five, ten percent of him enjoyed seeing that. He couldn’t deny it.

But the rest? That was a calculation.

Behind him, Kiyomi stood rooted in place, cheeks faintly flushed, irritation burning in her chest.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep