When Yatsuho said that, what he meant was obvious.
He hoped Gen would awaken the Sharingan as soon as possible and truly step into the inner core of the Uchiha clan. Within the clan, whether one had awakened the Sharingan—and how many tomoe one possessed—was directly tied to status, benefits, and even one's voice in important matters.
"That day will come, Cousin Yatsuho."
Gen nodded slightly.
In truth, he had no idea when his Sharingan would awaken.
The body he had inherited was not top-tier in talent, but it definitely wasn't poor either. He had entered the elite class at the Ninja Academy on his own merits, not because of the system's gacha. That alone proved he had the qualifications to awaken it.
The problem was that his emotions were often too steady.
And for the Uchiha, emotions that were too stable could easily become an obstacle instead.
Still, Gen wasn't particularly anxious.
Even if this body failed to awaken the Sharingan for the time being, he was confident that sooner or later he would draw a character card tied to an Uchiha who possessed it. After all, the Naruto franchise in his previous life had practically become synonymous with eye techniques. The Uchiha occupied a massive share of the story, and there were countless different versions of them at different stages of their lives—canon, filler, popular, obscure, all of it had been stuffed into the game by people like him.
As long as his leveling speed didn't slow too much, sooner or later, he would reach the relevant card pool.
"Well then, I'll be going first."
Yatsuho patted Gen on the shoulder. "You caused quite a stir just now. I still need to head back and report to the police force."
Then he exchanged a few words with Orochimaru and vanished with his team in a blur of motion.
"Let's go as well," Orochimaru said, turning away from the ravaged forest. He glanced at the scars left behind in the trees, then casually dismissed the summoned snakes back to Ryuchi Cave. "Clean yourselves up first. After that, we'll get your injuries treated. Tonight, we'll celebrate the formation of the team. Starting tomorrow, life won't be as easy as it was in the academy."
Although their wounds were mostly superficial, Orochimaru had no intention of wasting time.
He already had a rough training plan in mind, and before he put it into practice, he wanted the three of them examined properly. Healing them was simple. What mattered more was obtaining detailed information on their physical condition, growth, and development, so he could design a training schedule that was as efficient as possible.
Half an hour later, after returning home to wash off the blood, mud, and smoke, Team Orochimaru gathered again and followed their teacher to the true center of Konoha.
The closer they got, the more Gen realized that this part of the village was different.
The streets were cleaner. The atmosphere was quieter. Even the air felt somehow older, heavier, as though the weight of the village's history had settled here and never fully dispersed.
Along the roadside, long crimson strips engraved with dense characters had been embedded into the ground and walls in neat intervals.
"Are those… sealing formulas?" Uzuki Ruri asked, slowing her steps as she stared at the markings.
"Yes," Orochimaru replied with a slight nod. "Those are barriers and seals personally arranged by Mito-senpai. Even if you don't have the ability to damage them, you should still stay at least one meter away."
As he spoke, he casually inclined his head toward a rooftop not far away.
A masked ANBU ninja, who had been silently watching from the shadows, gave a nearly invisible response before disappearing again. Clearly, this place was under constant protection.
The deeper they went, the more lush the vegetation became.
Ancient trees cast layered shadows across the path, and the walls that lined the road had been weathered by time. In some places, the old plaster had flaked away, exposing faint symbols beneath—among them the emblem of the Senju clan, the clan that had once stood opposite the Uchiha on countless battlefields.
At the end of the road stood an old residence, grand yet austere.
Its style was unmistakably from the Warring States era. It did not resemble the more practical buildings of present-day Konoha at all. Instead, it looked like a relic that had stubbornly survived from another age, carrying with it the pride and blood of the generation that had built the village from nothing.
Two people were waiting at the entrance.
One was a woman, beautiful and bright, with long pale-blonde hair and brown eyes. She gave off a youthful, energetic air, but there was a force in her presence that could not be ignored. The other was a tall man with wild white hair and a grin that immediately made him seem unreliable.
"Haha, Orochimaru, you're finally here!" the white-haired man called out, hands on his hips. "Tsunade and I have been waiting for a while."
Gen's gaze sharpened.
Jiraiya.
And beside him—Tsunade.
Those were names famous enough to thunder through the entire original story.
What surprised Gen most was not their presence themselves, but the ease with which they stood here, as though visiting this residence was the most natural thing in the world.
"What are you doing here?" Orochimaru asked flatly.
"Ahem. I just happened to be wandering nearby." Jiraiya coughed, instantly shifting his gaze away and pretending that his earlier enthusiasm had meant nothing. Then he turned toward the three genin. "So these are your new students? Hmm, not bad. They look lively enough. Maybe I should take in a few disciples myself in a year or two."
Orochimaru gave him a sidelong look. "Any future student of yours will be pitiful. If they can't learn on their own, they'll probably never amount to much."
Jiraiya's face twitched.
Tsunade, meanwhile, ignored their bickering. She swept a measuring glance over the three children, her expression lingering for just a moment on Orochimaru before softening with something more complicated.
After Nawaki's death, Orochimaru had taken on students again.
"Come in," she said at last. "You must all be tired."
Inside, the residence was both old and meticulously maintained.
There was no gaudy luxury, yet every beam, every mat, every screen seemed steeped in a dignity that made people lower their voices without being told. Sunlight spilled in through the open corridors, illuminating quiet rooms and polished wood that had been walked across by too many important people to count.
In the inner courtyard, an old woman was reclining in a deck chair, basking in the afternoon sun.
Her hair had gone mostly gray, but faint strands of red still remained, like traces left behind by time's mercy. Her face was lined with age, yet her expression was serene, and her eyes—when they turned toward the newcomers—were warm, clear, and alive.
"Oh? Jiraiya and Orochimaru are here again," she said with a gentle smile. "And you brought a few little rascals with you this time. Hmm… they all look quite spirited."
Her gaze lingered over them one by one.
When she noticed the red-and-white fan crest on Gen's clothes, her expression changed ever so slightly. But rather than displeasure, the smile in her eyes only deepened.
She truly liked seeing children from different clans standing together.
Because that, more than anything else, was the future Hashirama had fought to create.
"Mito-sama."
"Lady Mito, it's been a while."
Jiraiya and Orochimaru both stepped forward at once to greet her respectfully, and Gen, Enjun, and Ruri quickly followed.
This was Uzumaki Mito.
No—more accurately, Senju Mito.
As the wife of the First Hokage and one of Konoha's founders, she was a living monument within the village. In terms of status, even the Third Hokage could not truly surpass her. Among the remaining old retainers of the Senju, her words likely still carried more weight than anyone else's.
"Enough, enough," Mito said, waving them off with amused affection. "You children go do what you came here to do. I'll just sit here and enjoy the sun. Still…"
Her voice softened.
"You should all visit more often while this old woman is still around. I don't have much time left."
"Grandmother, don't say such unlucky things." Tsunade immediately moved closer and wrapped herself around Mito's arm with unhidden affection. "With your health, you'll live to be a hundred."
Mito merely smiled and patted her granddaughter's hand.
"You know very well what my condition is." She shook her head gently. "But while I'm still here, bring these little ones by more often. They're about Kushina's age, aren't they? Let them talk to her now and then."
Then she looked at Tsunade again and added, "And when they leave, give each of them a basic sealing book. The same way your two teammates received theirs back then. Consider it a gift from me and Hashirama to the younger generation."
"I understand, Grandma."
Tsunade straightened, though the softness in her expression remained.
Then she turned to the three genin and beckoned them forward. "Come on. I'll treat your injuries first, and while I'm at it, I'll examine your bodies."
The group followed her deeper inside.
As Gen walked, his thoughts turned rapidly.
A basic sealing text from Mito and the First Hokage was no ordinary gift. Whatever its contents, it would likely be far beyond what an average genin could ever access. And Kushina was here too—still young, still at an age close to theirs. That alone was enough to send a ripple through Gen's mind.
Many of the names and faces he knew from the original story existed in his memories as legends, tragedies, or distant plot points. But here, in this moment, they were alive, breathing, speaking, moving through the same halls as he was.
And that made everything feel strangely unreal.
A clean room awaited them inside.
Several wooden beds had been arranged neatly in a row. Medical tools, bandages, and bottles of medicine were organized with almost frightening precision. The whole room smelled faintly of herbs, antiseptic, and something deeper—something cleaner, sharper, more professional than the half-baked treatment methods ordinary ninja often relied on.
Gen's eyes moved subtly over the setup.
So this was the standard of Tsunade's work, even at this stage.
No wonder the medical ninja system would one day reshape the battlefield.
This wasn't merely healing.
This was the beginning of an entire discipline.
And for the first time since leaving the Death Forest, Gen truly felt that his team had stepped into a different world.
Not the sheltered world of the academy.
Not even just the dangerous world of missions.
But the world where the real pillars of Konoha stood.
Orochimaru. Jiraiya. Tsunade. Mito.
Legends, all of them.
And now, somehow, he had entered their orbit.
What that would mean for his future… Gen did not yet know.
But one thing was certain.
The road ahead had just become far more complicated—and far more valuable.