Three days slipped by in a blur. Renji spent his time at home either lying in bed or perched on the old tree in their yard, reflecting on his training and thinking about where to go next.
Life seemed calm again, except for the second day when his father, Takuma, suddenly came home at midday, barged into the kitchen, and whispered something to Ran. A moment later, Renji witnessed why the Uchiha clan had survived in the shinobi world for so long.
With her three-tomoe Sharingan active, Ran wielded nothing more than a frying pan, yet still sparred against an elite jonin and sent him fleeing in shame. No wonder people said no one could match an Uchiha one-on-one.
Soon after, Renji and his teammates met again at their usual gathering spot. Kenshi handed each of them a wooden short staff.
"This month's training is… patrol duty."
"…What?"
The three froze. Patrol duty? Not targeted training. Not the "customized, scientific regiment" Kenshi had promised. Patrol duty?
The boys stared at Kenshi's dark expression and instantly decided to keep their mouths shut. They'd suffered enough under him in the forest to know better.
And so the "City Guard Squad" began their first patrol, assigned to the busiest part of Konoha: the Food Street.
"From here to the far end is your task for today," Kenshi said.
The three exchanged helpless looks. This is training? Really?
But Kenshi continued, his voice sharp. "It's not just walking. By sundown, I want a report: which shop has the most customers, which ones attract the most shinobi, each shopkeeper's profile, and an estimate of daily income.
How many outsiders came today, which ones are merchants, which nations they're from, and who among them might be spies. Also, identify which spots ANBU are monitoring and where our Police Force has hidden posts."
At those words, the boys straightened up. This wasn't some lazy patrol, it was intelligence work. For beginners, it was a mountain of a task. They quickly divided roles and began their surveillance.
"Don't you think this is too much for kids?" a nearby officer muttered to Kenshi. "Food Street is one of the busiest in all of Konoha. That's a lot of data to collect."
"That's the point," Kenshi replied coldly. "These so-called geniuses are spoiled. The wilderness showed them ninja can die at any moment. Now they'll learn that in the world of shinobi, common sense means nothing. If they want to be true ninja, they'll start with this." He then calmly walked into a sushi shop.
Another Uchiha snorted. "They're going to suffer. This should be fun to watch."
By evening, the boys returned with their reports. Kenshi glanced over the pages and burst into laughter.
"What is this garbage? You dare call this intelligence? The pride of the Uchiha clan hands me a pile of dog crap. Should I use it as fertilizer?"
The boys flushed with shame. He wasn't wrong. Their report was pitiful.
"Good. At least you can feel embarrassed. Dismissed. Tomorrow, again." Kenshi's body dissolved in smoke. He hadn't even bothered to come in person.
Determined not to fail again, the three headed into a ramen shop. Over steaming bowls, they discussed what went wrong. Soon, they had a plan.
First, identify ANBU surveillance spots. Second, investigate shopkeepers, track daily earnings, and instruct them to note outsiders, especially merchants, and where they came from. Third, monitor anyone acting suspiciously or frequenting Food Street too often.
With this structure, they would hunt for patterns rather than flounder aimlessly.
The next two days, they threw themselves into the task, moving through alleys and stalls like real patrolmen. They failed again, but with each attempt, they grew sharper.
By the third month, their efforts began to pay off.
"Unagi-don, please," said a burly man with a thick beard, sitting at the same restaurant he had visited for three straight days. Each time, he muttered the same things to himself. "Business is picking up. Thank goodness the war's over. The trade routes are safe now… with a little help, of course."
Renji signaled to his teammates. They gathered.
"That man's suspicious," Yan whispered. "Three days in a row, same seat, same lines. Always mentions the same words, recovery, war, trade routes, someone helping. At night, he goes to the tavern across the street. Same order: one sake, one grilled mackerel. He barely talks, but always stares at the fishball shop across from him.
And when he leaves, he buys three skewers, only eats two, and drops the third, always the one from the third tray on the left at the corner of the street."
"Oh, this is good," Retsu said, eyes lighting up. "He's passing signals. Bet he's waiting for a message. If we catch this, maybe we'll finally graduate from patrol duty."
Renji thought it through. "The restaurant owner is Tanaka Kunie, a merchant from the Land of Fire who settled in Konoha ten years ago. He owns the tavern too. But the fish skewers across the street that's different. Those skewers are from the Land of Lightning. The vendor, Kizaru, only arrived two years ago. And that third tray? Hollow skewers, with fillings. Perfect for hiding notes."
He looked at his teammates. "Yan, keep watching the bearded man. Retsu, you track the fishball vendor. I'll shadow the merchant."
"Got it. Be careful," Retsu replied. "I'll also check where the fishball shop gets its supplies."
Renji nodded.
Two days later, their suspicions were confirmed.
"The merchant left yesterday," Renji reported. "And the fishball vendor changed the hollow skewers to squid skewers. When I asked, he said it was just adjusting the recipe. The bearded man barely touched his food that last day. Didn't even finish two pieces."
"That's not all," Retsu added. "The fish supplier is clean, but the delivery girl is strange. She's an orphan, scrawny, barely enough strength to drag a cart of fish. Every time, the shop boy comes out halfway and helps her finish the delivery. Then the owner invites her inside, gives her a hollow skewer. Even today, when the hollow ones were gone, he promised to refill them later."
Yan's eyes widened.
"So it's a network. They're using the shop as a relay station for messages."
Renji's lips curled into a sharp smile, his eyes gleaming. "Exactly. A long-term intelligence link. And if we've seen it once… we'll see it again. Next time, we'll be ready."
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