Naruto: How to Be an Undercover Shinobi

After spending the night in the village, Reiji returned to Kirigakure at the break of dawn.

He had already signed the summoning scroll for Katsuyu.

Reiji clearly remembered how shocked he'd been when he first saw the ancient scroll.

Butsuma Senju, Hashirama Senju... and a long list of other Senjus above them.

Damn, this thing might as well be the Senju clan's family tree!

But Reiji hadn't signed the contract to summon Katsuyu-sama for combat or rescue purposes. His goal was purely research.

Currently, he had three space-type ninjutsu under his belt: the Heavenly Transfer Technique, the Flying Thunder God Technique, and the Summoning Jutsu.

Among them, Summoning Jutsu was the most accessible—it only required blood and hand seals.

The most difficult, without question, was the Flying Thunder God Technique. Its complexity was off the charts.

To even attempt it, you had to be skilled in Body Flicker, have a strong spatial sense, accurately perceive the position of the technique formula, and possess a massive chakra reserve.

If Reiji hadn't been immortal, with absurd resilience that allowed him to slowly develop his spatial awareness through countless trial-and-error clones, he wouldn't have had a shot at learning it.

This alone proved that Minato Namikaze was an absolute prodigy.

As for the Heavenly Transfer Technique, its difficulty level sat somewhere in the middle.

In many ways, it resembled a watered-down version of the Flying Thunder God Technique. But it had a feature that made it stand out—it was incredibly safe.

For the user, it posed virtually no risk.

As Reiji pondered how to combine these three techniques, he walked into the dining hall.

At the moment, Jūzō Biwa and the others were eating.

Judging by their seating positions and facial expressions, it looked like they had a round of "friendly sparring" yesterday.

And the outcome was... a bit unexpected.

The one sitting at the head of the table wasn't Toyomizu, the imposing wielder of the twin swords Hiramekarei.

It wasn't the "ruthless duo" Kuriarare Kushimaru and Jinpachi Munashi.

Not even the cunning Raiga Kurosuki.

Nope—it was Jūzō Biwa, the crafty sixth man of the squad!

Carrying Samehada on his back, Reiji kept his head down as he walked to the end of the table.

If it were really him and not this Fuguki Suikazan identity, he wouldn't even need Samehada—he could beat the six of them into next week with one hand.

But he was pretending to be a weakling, so he had to act the part.

As he sat at the very end, Jūzō Biwa's face twitched slightly.

This was kind of awkward.

Felt like they were playing animal chess or something.

Reiji sat down and had just picked up his chopsticks when he noticed all six of them staring at him with weird looks.

"What? I'm just eating. What are you staring at me for? There's no garlic in the food today, right?" Reiji asked, feigning innocence.

Jūzō Biwa rolled his eyes hard.

This little bastard and his cold jokes!

No wonder people in the village say he's ice-cold. They weren't wrong.

With jokes like that, he could be mistaken for a member of the Yuki Clan.

...

While Reiji and the others ate, deep beneath the Mizukage building, in a hidden underground chamber known to very few...

The basement was pitch black, lit only by a faint sliver of light slipping through the door crack.

At the entrance, the Third Mizukage stood upright with the utmost respect, as though awaiting something.

Suddenly, in the darkness, a pair of light purple eyes snapped open, locking onto the Third Mizukage at the door.

In that instant, his body trembled slightly, and he lowered his head even more.

Perhaps it lasted only a second, or maybe it stretched into an hour. But just as cold sweat drenched the Third Mizukage's forehead, the figure in the darkness finally spoke.

"How are the preparations for the destruction of Uzushiogakure going?"

The magnetic voice carried unmistakable arrogance.

Hearing this, the Third Mizukage didn't dare hesitate and immediately responded.

"My lord, everything is ready. All the ninja have been recalled, and the ANBU are standing by for orders.

The major clans in the village have already dispatched their shinobi as instructed.

The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist are also assembled and await your command."

"You've done well. Any other intel?"

Hearing that, the Third Mizukage finally allowed the knot in his chest to ease. He let out a silent but deep breath.

He feared the man in the darkness from the bottom of his heart. More than that, he couldn't defy a single order that man gave.

Trembling slightly, the Third Mizukage began to report the intel he'd gathered, one item at a time.

But when he mentioned that Hanzō of the Salamander seemed to want in on the action, the man in the shadows let out a cold snort.

"That piece of trash wants to meddle in my business? Ridiculous.

Tell Hanzō of the Salamander to stay as far away as possible. If he dares reach out a hand, I'll cut it off.

Also, kill every last member of the Uzumaki Clan in Uzushiogakure. I don't like red hair.

Lastly, you've done well sealing off Kirigakure. Keep it up."

As the commanding voice faded, the pale purple eyes hidden in the dark slowly closed.

Seeing this, the Third Mizukage, who had been cautiously glancing from the corner of his eye, gave a deep nod and quietly exited the underground chamber, gently closing the door behind him.

Only when he climbed back up to the first floor did he finally dare to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead and breathe deeply.

That presence... was terrifying. The pressure alone made it hard to even breathe.

What he didn't know was that he had long been caught in a genjutsu.

A genjutsu that ensured his fear—and unwavering loyalty—toward the caster.

It made him obey from the bottom of his heart, fully accept every word the caster said.

A terrifyingly powerful genjutsu.

Its only flaw? It needed to be periodically reinforced.

...

Just as the Third Mizukage adjusted his expression and prepared to return to his office, deep in the basement, those purple eyes opened once more.

"The vessel for my eyes has already been chosen.

What I need now... is someone to execute the plan.

Someone from the Uchiha clan."

As he muttered to himself, a fawning voice chimed in from the side.

"Master, Fugaku Uchiha. He possesses the Mangekyō Sharingan."

Hearing that, a boy's image slowly surfaced in the mysterious man's mind.

He snorted immediately.

Fugaku Uchiha?

That clueless brat?

The number one street punk in Konohagakure?

If it weren't for his Sharingan, I'd have thought he was just some clown from Kumogakure!

A gifted Uchiha, twisted into a full-blown cultist by that lunatic Reiji Sakuhō!

Teaching people about 'love' with his fists, day in and day out?

That's not love—that's assault!

And now this guy is supposed to carry out my grand plan?

Acting in my name—Madara Uchiha's name?

And what... I'm supposed to believe Madara Uchiha beat up two kids because they were fighting over a lollipop?

Then walked off with the candy in his mouth, all smug?

The hell kind of nonsense is that?!

If I'm resurrected and this is my legacy, the entire ninja world's going to give me side-eye!

At that thought, the mysterious man involuntarily shivered, forcing himself to straighten up as he said sternly,

"He won't do. Even if he has the Mangekyō Sharingan, he could never comprehend the nobility of the plan!"

Hearing this, the sycophant beside him fell completely silent.