"Eh, yes, be careful on the road!"
Shisui's mother reminded them kindly.
She was at ease about this new friend of Shisui's. The boy seemed mature for his age, and she didn't think her son would pick up any bad habits from him.
"Shisui, you're practicing swordsmanship this early?"
After leaving Shisui's house, Saitama turned to him with casual curiosity.
Having memories from a previous life, Saitama knew Shisui would grow up to be a fearsome ninja. Master of the Body Flicker Technique, deadly with kunai and swords, and eventually wielder of the Mangekyō Sharingan—the strongest genjutsu eyes.
"Yeah! It's a training assignment from my dad," Shisui replied, a little shy but clearly proud.
"That's impressive," Saitama praised him lightly.
For children their age, waking up early to do daily training was already rare. But to persist with something as dull and demanding as sword drills? That took grit.
Deep down, Saitama admired Shisui.
After all, achieving what Shisui would in the future wasn't something just anyone could do.
But shaking off those thoughts, Saitama reminded himself—I have my own talent. With my golden finger, I can surpass anyone… if I just keep grinding.
Although Shisui was born two months earlier, both boys were roughly the same age. And from how they spoke and carried themselves, Saitama felt he was more mature than the still somewhat innocent Shisui.
"Where are we going, Saitama?"
The two of them wandered through the Uchiha compound, which was vast but not exactly full of entertainment. They soon found themselves strolling toward the edge of the district.
"No real plan. Just taking a walk. I'll treat you to some dango at noon!" Saitama replied casually, scanning the streets as they walked.
By now it was eight or nine in the morning, and Konoha was coming alive. Merchants hawked their goods, shinobi passed by in uniform—it was a busy village.
The two boys walked with small wooden swords strapped to their backs, wandering carefree through the bustling streets.
"Hey, aren't those kids from the Uchiha clan?"
"Of course. Don't you see the fan symbol on their backs?"
Voices whispered nearby. Civilians were muttering softly, eyes darting toward the boys.
It made sense. At this point in Konoha's history, the Uchiha were one of the most powerful clans in the village—and the most feared. Their pride, combined with their control of the Konoha Military Police Force, gave them an air of superiority that rubbed civilians the wrong way.
Even though he wasn't officially a ninja yet, Saitama caught the whispers.
Turning his head, he saw two middle-aged women eating breakfast nearby.
"Shh, quiet down!"
One aunt nudged the other sharply with her elbow, then bowed her head to avoid Saitama's gaze.
Saitama: "..."
"What are you looking at?" Shisui asked innocently.
"Nothing," Saitama replied with a faint smile.
But in his heart, he felt like some zoo animal under observation. The Uchiha name carried a weight—a spotlight he hadn't asked for.
He sped up his pace. Shisui quickly followed behind.
"Wait for me, Saitama!"
Being stared at and talked about wasn't Saitama's style. He didn't like the feeling of being some kind of symbol.
The Uchiha name carried a sharp edge. In Konoha, it inspired awe and distrust in equal measure.
It was Year 44 of the Hidden Leaf calendar. Tensions between villages were growing, and the threat of war loomed in the air.
"Saitama, look over there!"
Shisui, curious as ever, pointed excitedly.
Saitama turned—and froze.
Standing across the street was a tall man in a flak jacket, long dark hair flowing freely over his shoulders. He had striking purple eyeshadow trailing down to his jawline, and two jade earrings that shimmered in the sunlight as he moved.
Orochimaru.
The Snake Sannin himself.
Saitama's whole body tensed.
Shisui, do you have any idea who you're pointing at!? That's not someone we can mess with!
Saitama internally screamed while forcing a straight face.
Orochimaru's golden eyes flicked toward the two of them. But after a second, he looked away, uninterested.
Just two kids, he probably thought.
Orochimaru didn't care for attention. He already knew how the village saw him—and likely didn't care.
Saitama turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction, stiff as a board.
I have no idea if he's already started human experiments. Either way—I want nothing to do with him!
Even just a glance from Orochimaru made his skin crawl, like he'd locked eyes with a cold-blooded predator.
It felt like being stared at by a snake.