Soon, they returned to the village and stopped in front of the Hokage building.

At the mission desk, after Okabe gave his report about the mission to the highest-ranking official on shift, he, the Daimyo’s envoy, and the other two jōnin were quietly led into a backroom, then taken upstairs.

Ryusei’s team, along with the other chūnin, were told to wait in a guest room.

Ryusei sat there calmly, but his thoughts moved fast.

The envoy was obviously headed to meet Hiruzen himself, to reassure him, and then calmly be sent back to the Fire Daimyo.

Okabe and the other two jōnin, on the other hand, would almost certainly be meeting with Anbu higher-ups right now, presenting the personal letter and seal from the Hot Water Daimyo and explaining the true mission.

Afterward, only Okabe would no doubt be asked to stay alone to give a more “detailed” explanation about himself as well.

Ryusei smirked faintly in his mind. They were so predictable. He could even estimate their next immediate move without effort.

And just as Ryusei predicted, a secretary from the mission desk soon came to them.

She informed them that Lord Hokage himself wanted to speak with them personally about the mission. Only Team Okabe was summoned. The other teams were excused.

The other Chunin were a bit puzzled, but they followed the instructions without complaint and left. Hokage’s will was law.

The female employee led them upstairs, and as they reached the floor where the Hokage’s main office was located, a young man was already waiting.

Early twenties, sharp black eyes, two thin scars running horizontally across his face, one above his mouth and one on his forehead, both on the same side.

His black hair was tied in a long, spiky ponytail, though the rest of his appearance was more casual, despite wearing the standard jōnin uniform.

He smiled faintly and addressed the secretary, his voice steady. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied respectfully before turning and heading back downstairs.

The man’s smile lingered as he studied the three genin.

“So, this is Team Okabe. Glad you came back safe. My name is Shikaku Nara, Chief Secretary to Lord Hokage. He has been waiting to personally congratulate you for completing another B-rank mission, ensuring Lord Daimyo’s envoy returned safely. He also wishes to apologize for once again putting you in a situation where the mission escalated beyond intelligence estimates.”

His tone was flawless. Even though his slightly unruly features gave him a wild look, the words were smooth, polite, and carried the air of someone genuinely interested in a team of promising newcomers.

Renjiro was the first to speak, smirking a little.”Heh, if it’s the Hokage himself, I guess we really are getting important.”

Kanae kept her expression cold, but bowed her head politely.”We only did our duty.”

Ryusei, wearing his usual narrow-eyed “gentle” mask, added calmly,”We are honored, Chief Secretary. Please lead the way.”

Shikaku nodded approvingly, still smiling faintly, and motioned for them to follow.

Together, they walked down the corridor toward the Hokage’s personal office.

The air here was heavier. This floor was the ‘brain’ of the building, where the Hokage’s closest advisers and officials worked, with every door leading to the machinery that kept Konoha running.

And at the end of the hall waited the Hokage’s private room.

Two masked ANBU standing guard opened the great double doors.

Shikaku motioned them in, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets as if nothing in the world could faze him.

Inside, the room was wide yet dim, scrolls and files stacked on the walls, incense faintly burning in the corners to mask the smell of endless smoke.

At the center, behind a broad desk, sat Hiruzen Sarutobi himself. The Third Hokage.

His hat was set aside, a long pipe between his fingers as he exhaled slowly, smoke curling upward and fading against the lantern light.

His eyes were calm, yet they lingered just a little too long on Ryusei.

“You’ve all done well,” Hiruzen said, his voice slow and deliberate, like an old man speaking truths no one could question.

“The envoy of the Fire Daimyo has already delivered his report. The Land of Hot Water’s situation was… unfortunate, but your efforts ensured his safe return. For that, Konoha thanks you.”

Renjiro puffed out his chest slightly, bowing his head.”It was nothing, Lord Hokage. An enemy’s still an enemy, no matter where they come from.”

Kanae lowered her gaze, hands clasped neatly at her side.”We only fulfilled the mission we were assigned.”

Ryusei, his eyes narrowed in their usual harmless expression, gave the smallest of bows.”It was an honor to serve the village.”

Hiruzen let silence stretch for a moment, taking a drag from his pipe. Then he leaned forward slightly, voice softening.

“Yet it seems some of you were forced into… harsher circumstances than expected.” His gaze settled directly on Ryusei. “I heard you found yourself separated, young Nishida. And still, you returned alive.”

The air in the room tightened, even if Hiruzen’s words sounded no more than gentle concern.

Ryusei held his smile, his tone light.

“Yes, Lord Hokage. I was stationed on one side of the palace, and enemy shinobi broke through there first. I did what I could to delay them. Luck and tactics carried me through.”

Hiruzen hummed softly, exhaling another slow plume of smoke.

“Luck and tactics… qualities every shinobi must cultivate.” He nodded, as though satisfied, though the faint glint in his eyes betrayed his curiosity. “Still, survival against such odds is no small feat.”

Shikaku, standing by the side with arms folded, spoke up in his easy tone.

“That’s what makes them promising, Lord Hokage. Sharp enough to learn from the unexpected. Sharp enough to walk away.”

Hiruzen chuckled quietly, though his eyes never left Ryusei. “Yes… promising indeed.”

He leaned back in his chair, pipe still in hand, and turned his gaze over the three of them together. “Three B-rank missions in three months. That alone is no small record for a genin team. In fact, it is a pace few chūnin teams in Konoha ever match.”

Renjiro blinked in surprise, straightening unconsciously. Kanae’s expression didn’t shift, but her shoulders stiffened slightly. Ryusei’s face remained calm, whereas internally, he thought that it was as he expected.

Shikaku stepped forward, hands still tucked lazily in his pockets, but his eyes sharp behind the casual tone.

“Because of the times we’re in, there won’t be any formal chūnin exams this year. We don’t have the luxury of inviting other villages, running games and tests while the world sharpens blades.”

He gave a lopsided smile. “So, instead, the Lord Hokage has been reviewing track records and field performance directly. Aptitude, survival, leadership, results, those are what matter now.”

His gaze swept over them once, and he let the silence hang just long enough before he added, “And his decision is made. The three of you are to be promoted to chūnin, effective immediately.”

Renjiro’s eyes lit up, and for once his usual coldness cracked into visible excitement. Kanae dipped her head slightly, her tone composed. “We thank the Hokage for his judgment.”

Shikaku tilted his head toward Ryusei with that same sly smile. “Go on. Why don’t you thank Lord Hokage properly?”

Ryusei immediately realized what Hiruzen was plotting now. Promotion from genin to chūnin was nothing but a convenient pretext.

The title itself was empty: more pay, more benefits, and the right to take on more advanced missions. That was the problem.

Advanced missions meant more chances for Hiruzen to set up “borrowed knife” situations against him.

Although his new Chūnin rank also technically qualified him for safer paths inside Konoha, no more dangerous missions, a steady salary, a permanent posting, and comfortable options like teaching at the Academy or serving in divisions such as barriers, interrogation, torture, or other ‘shinobi administration’, none of it mattered.

The one who decided those assignments ultimately was the same dictator who had just “rewarded” him with the promotion, and he had entirely different intentions in mind.

There was never any chance he’d be allowed to settle into a safe role. They would dress it up as “gaining more field experience,” “limited positions available,” “filling manpower shortages because of the war,” or “developing his specialized skills further” before any transfer.

Whatever excuse they chose, the outcome was the same: Ryusei would always be sent on external, now even more dangerous missions, where an accident could easily be arranged.

He would never be “blessed” with a cushy chūnin life like that so-called Iruka-sensei, the kind that let one quietly develop in secret.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep