The Hidden Uchiha Gamer

A week had passed since the chakra surge near the orphanage, and patrols around the western grounds had increased noticeably. Shadowy figures moved in and out of the area, lingering a little longer than they usually would for regular village security.

The source of that chakra had the Anbu concerned. It wasn't simply the fear of a spy hiding among the orphanage's staff or children—it was something else, something closer to home. The real worry lay in the possibility of a young prodigy experimenting with chakra far beyond their current level. A gifted child without the wisdom or control to wield such power could be dangerous to themselves and the village.

Letting one of their own die due to uncontrolled power was unacceptable. It went against everything they believed in as Konoha shinobi. Protecting each other, especially the youngest among them, was part of the Will of Fire etched into their very beings.

And so, they continued. Watching, studying, taking note of every movement in the orphanage, waiting for any sign that might reveal the identity of the mysterious chakra source. Yet, despite a week of dedicated surveillance, they found nothing substantial. Each Anbu stayed carefully hidden, melding into the shadows, hoping to catch even a faint trace of unusual activity. But every night was the same—still, quiet, and uneventful.

Whoever was responsible either knew of the increased security and was purposefully lying low, or they were skilled enough to remain undetected even by the village's elite. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

A whispered voice broke the silence. "Karasu," the team captain's voice reached out, just a breath of sound in the darkness. "Anything to report?"

"Nothing, Neko," Karasu replied quietly, his eyes lingering on the orphanage windows.

"Nothing, again," Neko echoed with a slight frown. "It's rare for someone in our own village to remain hidden for so long, even from us."

Karasu gave a short nod, understanding her sentiment. "No suspects, either. Nothing that suggests a rogue shinobi, nor any indication of a young shinobi practicing above their level. But this level of stealth…" his voice trailed off as he entertained a new thought. "It might be a prodigy in secret training. What if the child we're looking for is one of the orphans?"

"Karasu, that seems unlikely," Neko replied, though her tone betrayed a trace of doubt. It was difficult to imagine that a mere child would have the capability—or even the ambition—to conduct secret training at such a high level. But Karasu's next words caught her off guard.

"Look inside the building, Neko. That purple-haired girl." Karasu's gaze was fixed on one of the orphanage windows.

Following his line of sight, Neko focused on the figure he'd indicated. Inside, a young girl with slightly shaded purple hair sat by the window, completely absorbed in a book. Her brows were knit in concentration, her gaze unwavering. Squinting, Neko adjusted her vision, and as she focused, she could just make out some of the words on the page. The text was complex, far beyond what a child her age should be able to read, let alone comprehend. And yet, this girl's focused expression suggested she understood every word.

"I see what you mean, Karasu," Neko murmured, a note of intrigue coloring her voice. "We should report this to the Sandaime. Still, it's highly unlikely that this girl could have produced the chakra we felt last week. The chakra surge was far beyond her capacity at that age." She studied the girl a moment longer. "Yet, it is suspicious. It's not often we find one prodigy so close to what might be another."

Neko considered this carefully. Her gaze lingered on the girl for another beat before she turned to Karasu. "It's time to go," she whispered.

Karasu nodded, casting one last glance at the orphanage before signaling to the third member of their squad. "Usagi, we're pulling back."

A shadow shifted on a nearby branch as Usagi nodded in acknowledgment, blending into the shadows once more. After a final sweep of the area, he rejoined them in the trees.

"Good," Neko said in a low voice, taking one last look at the orphanage grounds. "We'll report our findings to the Hokage."

In unison, the three Anbu slipped soundlessly into the night, leaving the orphanage behind as if they had never been there.

(Akari's POV)

I closed my book with a quiet sigh, glancing toward the window. Just as I'd expected, the village had taken extra precautions. In the distance, I caught a brief flicker of shadows moving through the trees before disappearing into the darkness. Their presence lingered longer than usual, though they probably thought no one had noticed. If there was one thing to count on, it was Konoha's predictability in situations like these.

So, the increased patrols would likely stay in place, at least for a while. 2 months at most. And that meant more challenges for me. If I wanted to train, in secrecy, I would have to avoid suspicion carefully. Any movement too close to the orphanage or too late at night would draw attention, and I couldn't afford that. 

So I considered my next steps. If I wanted to continue my training undetected, I would need to create some distractions, something to divert their attention elsewhere. Perhaps a series of small, seemingly unrelated incidents could keep them occupied, make them focus inside the Village in other areas. 

Yet, I could equally just wait it out, but I needed to protect Shiina as well. 

I stood, slipping the book back onto its shelf, and cast one final glance out the window before heading toward the door. My movements were quiet, calculated. The village could watch, study, and scrutinize every corner of this orphanage, but they wouldn't find what they were looking for. Not if I had anything to say about it.

And with that, I made my way down the hallway, my mind already setting the pieces of my new strategy into motion.

Luckily, I could account that the Hokage might suspect me already, so there was no need to rush, just ready myself to see such things.

(Third Person POV)

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat at his desk, the dim glow of a lantern illuminating the lines of weariness on his face. His gaze swept over the three Anbu standing before him—Karasu, Usagi, and Neko. Each stood motionless, the weight of their report hanging in the air.

"Neko, report," Hiruzen commanded, his tone steady but tinged with expectation.

Neko stepped forward, bowing slightly before speaking. "Hokage-sama, we found no direct evidence or lingering traces of the chakra surge from a week ago. However," she hesitated briefly, "we have uncovered a potential suspect. Although it's unlikely, her behavior and abilities are worth noting."

Hiruzen's brow lifted slightly, interest piqued. "Go on."

"It's a girl," Neko continued. "She lives at the western orphanage. Purple hair, heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one black. While observing the children, we noticed her reading an advanced book. Its content was far beyond what a child her age should be capable of understanding, yet she appeared fully engrossed. She is...unusual."

Hiruzen leaned back slightly, his fingers interlaced as he considered Neko's words. "Purple hair?" he murmured, almost to himself, the description stirring a memory. His eyes softened momentarily, the ghost of recognition flitting across his face.

"Yes," Neko confirmed. "Karasu and I agreed she stood out."

Hiruzen nodded slowly, his gaze distant as the pieces fell into place. "I've met her before," he said after a pause, his tone thoughtful. "She asked me about chakra almost 2 years ago—an intelligent child with a remarkable curiosity for her age. While others played, she sat with books. I remember being impressed, but now…"

He trailed off, the weight of the revelation settling over him. A girl that young, experimenting with chakra? If it were true, her ability to hide it so effectively was astonishing.

"She might have been mesmerized by the concept of chakra," Hiruzen mused aloud, "perhaps even driven to experiment with it. If this is her doing, it would explain the precision and stealth behind the surge. But such mastery at her age...remarkable." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

The room fell silent, each Anbu considering the implications of his words. Even Karasu, who rarely showed emotion behind his mask, tilted his head slightly as though weighing the possibility.

But Hiruzen's smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. His expression grew somber, his eyes narrowing with the weight of his decades of experience. Something nagged at the back of his mind, an instinct honed over years of leadership.

"Still," he said, his voice quieter now, "there's something about this that feels...off. A child capable of such stealth, such precision—there must be more to her than meets the eye."

Neko hesitated before speaking again. "Hokage-sama, should we proceed with further observation? If she truly is the source of the chakra, we'll need to confirm her capabilities and ensure she isn't a danger to herself or the village."

Hiruzen nodded slowly, the thoughtful lines on his face deepening. "Yes. Keep a watchful eye, but do not approach her directly. If she is as clever as I suspect, she'll know we're observing her, and that alone may alter her behaviour. For now, let us study her quietly and ensure her path aligns with the village's interests."

He paused, his gaze shifting to the village visible through the window. "A prodigy can be a great blessing," he said softly, almost to himself, "or a great danger. Time will reveal which she becomes."

The Anbu bowed in unison, their movements synchronized and silent, before vanishing into the shadows of the room.

(Akari's POV)

Knowing the Hokage, he had likely already deduced that I was the source of the chakra surge. The realization didn't bother me, I expected it in fact. A man like him wouldn't ignore the slightest anomaly in his village. His wisdom and instincts, however aged, were sharp enough to connect the dots. It was the natural response of someone who had spent decades leading and protecting Konoha.

As I walked through the streets of Konoha, my gaze lingered briefly on the sun before darting away, careful not to attract attention. Its warmth felt out of place against the cool calculation in my mind. The village bustled around me, oblivious to the silent tension I carried.

It was time to put my plan into motion.

The plan itself was simple: three high-grade explosive tags, placed strategically to sow chaos and misdirection. Of the five in my possession, I would use three. Each one guaranteed to achieve its purpose if positioned correctly. Confusion was my weapon, and the brilliance of this plan lay in its simplicity. Misdirection would make the village's attention scatter, their focus diluted, allowing me to slip further into the shadows of obscurity.

My feet carried me toward the market district, the hum of voices and the scent of food mingling in the air. I moved with purpose but maintained an air of nonchalance, blending into the crowd as any child might. Near a vendor's stall, my fingers moved deftly, my body shielding the action from view. I placed the first explosive tag beneath the wooden framework of the stall. It was subtle, carefully folded and tucked just out of sight. No one checked under stalls—it was a blind spot even in a village of shinobi.

The first tag was set.

I left the market quickly but not hurriedly, ensuring my actions didn't draw suspicion. From there, I made my way into the forest, taking an indirect route to my next location. The second tag was for confusion, not destruction—a precise tool to scatter their attention further. Near a tree that bordered a well-traveled path, I secured the explosive tag, carefully affixing it to the bark where leaves would obscure it from casual sight. Its placement was intentional, designed to create panic in an area where shinobi might gather to respond.

The second tag was set.

My final destination lay to the east, where the edge of the village tapered into quieter residential areas. Here, the plan required precision and cold resolve. The third explosive tag wasn't meant for a structure or an inanimate object—it was for a person. My target was a man walking alone, an unassuming figure dressed in simple civilian clothing.

I trailed him silently, my movements fluid and undetectable. The moment presented itself when he paused to adjust the bag slung over his shoulder. In a heartbeat, I slipped the tag onto the back of his garment, fastening it with a practiced flick of my fingers. The man continued on his way, completely unaware of the death that followed him like a shadow.

The third tag was set.

This man would die. That was unavoidable. But it didn't bother me.

All people were tools, commodities to be expended for a greater purpose.

His death was not personal; it was necessary. If it served to solidify my anonymity and misdirect the village's efforts, then it was justified. I watched him walk away without hesitation, my emotions locked behind the cold barrier I had built oh so long ago.

A barrier which may have been cracked, but didn't make me empathetic to the man. 

Besides, with that first tag, some would certainly die, and dependent on that mans position, a few more.

With all 3 placed, I retreated swiftly but carefully. My every step was deliberate, calculated. I had no intention of being connected to the chaos I was about to unleash.

As I moved away, my mind focused on the plan. The first explosion would draw attention to the market, forcing shinobi to converge there. The second would send them scattering toward the forest, creating a divide in their forces. And the third—the death of an innocent civilian—would shake them to their core, raising questions and suspicions that would spiral beyond their control.

They would never suspect the purple-haired orphan quietly reading her books.

And so as I entered the Orphanage, and into the library once again, my hands formed the Rat hand seal and counted in my mind, till they explosions went off.

As I waited I felt my own body tingle in excitement at the thought of such chaos, truly I hadn't had a chance before to sow it, yet here I was finally doing something new for the first time. It would be... 

"Beautiful."

I muttered out loud.

(3rd person POV)

Market District.

The market was alive with its usual bustle. Vendors called out to passing customers, children laughed as they chased one another, and the smell of roasted meats and fresh produce filled the air. Amid the noise and movement, no one noticed the small slip of paper affixed to the underside of a wooden stall.

The explosion tore through the district in a deafening roar. Shards of wood splintered in every direction as the blast sent a shockwave rippling outward. The once-bustling market erupted into chaos. Stalls were overturned, goods scattered, and thick plumes of smoke filled the air. The screams of the wounded and dying cut through the cacophony as civilians and shinobi alike scrambled for cover.

"Get the wounded out of here!" a Chunin yelled, his voice hoarse from inhaling smoke. He darted into the wreckage, pulling an injured child from beneath a collapsed stall. Blood trickled down the boy's forehead as he whimpered in pain.

A pair of Genin rushed to assist, their faces pale but determined. "We've got this one!" one shouted, lifting a civilian with a mangled leg.

Amidst the chaos, a Jonin appeared, forming hand seals. "Suiton: Suijinheki!" A wall of water erupted, dousing flames licking at the wreckage and clearing paths for the rescuers. Yet, despite their efforts, the devastation was immense. The bodies of the dead lay scattered, some unrecognizable from the force of the explosion.

The Forest Edge.

The forest was quieter, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirping of birds. A small group of shinobi was training nearby, their laughter mingling with the serene ambiance.

The explosion shattered the tranquility in an instant. Flames erupted from a tree, and the resulting shockwave splintered nearby trunks. Shinobi were thrown to the ground, their cries of alarm echoing through the forest.

A young Genin staggered to his feet, clutching his bleeding arm. "Sensei!" he called out, scanning the smoke-filled clearing for his instructor. He spotted her moments later, trapped beneath a large branch. Blood trickled from her temple as she struggled to move.

"Hold on!" he shouted, rushing to her side. His trembling hands worked to lift the branch as another Chunin arrived to assist. Together, they freed the injured woman, though her leg was bent at an unnatural angle.

"Form a perimeter!" barked a Jonin, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for additional threats. "This could be a distraction! Tend to the wounded and keep your guard up!"

Despite the warnings, it was clear this explosion was isolated. The shinobi worked quickly, prioritizing rescues while assessing the damage to their ranks.

The east side.

The east side of the village was calm, with families preparing for the evening. Children played in the streets while elders chatted on porches. Among them walked a man carrying a bag of groceries, his steps leisurely.

The explosion struck without warning. The man's body was vaporized instantly, the blast reducing nearby homes to rubble. Fire roared through the district, consuming wooden structures and catching innocent civilians in its deadly embrace.

A team of shinobi appeared within moments, responding to the cries for help. "Start evacuating the survivors!" one ordered, his hands glowing green with medical chakra as he stabilized a wounded woman.

Another shinobi dashed into a collapsing house, emerging moments later with two children coughing from smoke inhalation. "We need more medics!" he shouted, his voice desperate.

Despite their quick response, the scene was one of utter devastation. The bodies of the dead were piled among the wreckage, their faces a haunting reminder of the explosion's indiscriminate fury.

These 3 areas, had the same thing happen to them all at the same, time of course the next morning, the village gathered to assess the damage.

Smoke still rose from the market and residential districts, casting an eerie haze over Konoha. Hiruzen Sarutobi stood at the heart of the devastation, his expression grim as he surveyed the destruction. Ash drifted lazily through the air, mingling with the faint cries of the wounded being tended to in the distance.

"The market has sustained heavy damage," an Anbu reported, stepping forward from the group surrounding the Hokage. "Twenty-seven confirmed dead, over a hundred injured. Civilians and shinobi alike."

Hiruzen's gaze shifted to the forest, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And the training grounds?"

The Anbu adjusted his stance, his voice tinged with regret. "Seventeen dead, mostly Genin and Chunin. Another forty wounded, some critical."

The Hokage's lips pressed into a thin line. He closed his eyes briefly, the weight of every life lost settling on his shoulders. "And the residential district?" His voice dropped, barely audible, as though bracing himself for the answer.

The Anbu hesitated before responding. "Thirty-eight dead, including civilians. Twenty-six injured. Among the casualties..." The Anbu paused, his voice heavy with meaning. "Yoji Aburame of Root."

At the mention of the name, Hiruzen's eyes darkened, a storm of conflicting emotions flashing briefly in his gaze. Yoji Aburame was no ordinary shinobi. A member of Root—a faction disbanded in name but far from eradicated—his death carried complications beyond the personal tragedy.

The Hokage inhaled deeply, his shoulders heavy with the village's collective grief. "Yoji was one of Danzo's." His tone was neutral, but the underlying tension was unmistakable. He turned his gaze to another Anbu. "Inform Danzo personally. He'll want to know."

A murmur of unease passed through the gathered shinobi. Everyone in Konoha knew Root was officially disbanded. After the Second Shinobi War, Hiruzen had ordered the division dissolved to curtail its unchecked influence. But the truth was more insidious: Root had merely gone underground, its operatives continuing their covert operations under Danzo's iron rule.

Root was a shadow organization, one that officially didn't exist but left its fingerprints on the darkest corners of the village. Yoji Aburame's presence in the residential district was no coincidence. Danzo rarely moved his operatives without purpose, and his motives were as opaque as ever.

Hiruzen's gaze lingered on the still-smoking ruins of the residential area. The knowledge of Root's persistence gnawed at him, a festering wound he had been unable to close. He had turned a blind eye for too long, justifying it as a necessary evil to maintain balance in Konoha. But moments like this—the death of a Root operative amid civilian casualties—made the price of that balance painfully clear.

Danzo would undoubtedly use Yoji's death as leverage. Hiruzen could already imagine the veiled accusations, the subtle insinuations of his failure to protect the village. The power struggle between them had always been a quiet, simmering conflict, and this incident would only stoke the embers.

"Increase patrols around the key locations and have witnesses questioned," Hiruzen commanded, his voice steady but sharp. "We must ensure this doesn't happen again by weeding out who dared attack the Village like this and pay them back in kind."

One of the Anbu hesitated before stepping forward. "Hokage-sama, if I may..." The shinobi's tone was measured, almost cautious. "Given Root's... presence in this matter, should we also increase surveillance on their activities?"

Hiruzen's gaze snapped to the Anbu, his expression unreadable. After a tense moment, he spoke. "No. Root is not to be antagonized. Not now."

It was a calculated decision. Danzo's network was too entrenched, too dangerous to uproot without destabilizing the village further. Confronting him directly would only push Root deeper into the shadows. For now, Hiruzen would tolerate their existence, even as the cost of that tolerance weighed heavily on his conscience.

He turned to face the destruction once more, his voice quiet but resolute. "Ensure that the families of the fallen receive the care they need. And remind everyone—civilian and shinobi alike—that Konoha will endure. No matter what."

As the Anbu dispersed to carry out his orders, Hiruzen lingered, his thoughts a whirlwind of guilt and resolve. The sight of Yoji Aburame's name among the dead was a reminder of the delicate balance he maintained as Hokage, a balance that now felt more precarious than ever.

Somewhere in the shadows of Konoha, Danzo was surely plotting his next move. And Hiruzen knew that when the time came, the consequences of this incident would ripple far beyond the lives already lost.

One Week Later.

The village worked tirelessly to recover. Rubble was cleared, homes were rebuilt, and families mourned their dead. The market resumed operations, though its vibrancy was dulled by the weight of tragedy. The residential district was quieter than before, its streets lined with fresh graves.

In total, 100 people had lost their lives, and 602 were injured. The shinobi ranks were hit but not greatly, among the dead were 16 Genin, 8 Chunin, and Yoji Aburame, whose loss sent ripples through Konoha's undercurrents.

Danzo's presence at Yoji's funeral was brief but notable. His silence spoke volumes, and those who watched him leave felt the tension his expression carried. Whatever plans the shadowy leader had, they undoubtedly involved the Aburame, and retribution would be dealt.

For now, Konoha stood resilient, its people banding together to heal. But beneath the surface, the seeds of suspicion and unease were already taking root.

A storm that had yet to come.

And of course, the investigation was ongoing but they would not find anything, the little mastermind, X, had made certain of that.

(Akari's POV)

You have gained 9405 EXP

You have levelled up.

I didn't care, hearing what had happened. The true shock was that Yoji Aburame had been killed. As someone who read the Light Novels of Naruto of course I knew that name. And that meant, I had indirectly fucked over Danzo's plans. 

And now that everything was done and over with, I had stopped them from watching the Orphanage and had finally got the opportunity to focus on training Shiina again.

No interruptions, no worry of being watched, only thing I have to worry about is the Hokage and that Squad that was watching me. 

Well, it was time to begin.