Uchiha's flies : Descendants are Born

The Root ninjas, hearing Haruto's casual command, quickly put their tongues back into their mouths.

Watching this, Haruto sighed internally.

"This group of people… They're like machines, following orders without a hint of resistance."

A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Danzo, for all your shortcomings, you truly excelled at molding your subordinates."

Glancing over the members of the Root, Haruto noticed that they were all young men, their physiques lean and disciplined. Not a single woman was among them.

"Such a powerful method of training—it's a pity you misused it, Danzo."

For a fleeting moment, Haruto felt a pang of regret that Danzo had died so early. If the man were alive, Haruto would have been tempted to learn a thing or two from his conditioning techniques.

Every member of the Root had undergone Danzo's notorious "elimination of self" training in their youth. The grueling process stripped them of emotions, ties to family, and even their sense of individuality.

These ninjas bore no names, harbored no personal will, and acknowledged no past or future. Their existence revolved entirely around executing their master's orders without hesitation or remorse.

When Danzo fell, his carefully crafted tools were left in disarray, lost without a directive. Sarutobi Hiruzen, taking advantage of their conditioning, assumed control of the Root and redirected their loyalty toward himself.

Now, Hiruzen had handed them over to Haruto.

But the Root members, accustomed to following orders, didn't react to the frequent changes in leadership. Their mechanical obedience persisted—they weren't designed to question, only to execute.

"The perfect killing machines," Haruto thought, shaking his head.

Breaking the silence, Haruto asked, "How long have you been wearing those masks?"

The leading member of the Root hesitated, his expression blank behind the mask. "Master Haruto, we've worn them since becoming full-fledged members of the Root. Without explicit orders, we never remove them."

Haruto raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it get stuffy? Wearing a mask constantly isn't good for your skin. You'll get acne. A man's appearance matters, you know."

The Root member's stoic demeanor wavered slightly, betraying confusion. "Thank you for your concern, Master Haruto. But we're accustomed to it."

Accustomed to it, huh? Haruto mused. A mischievous glint entered his eyes.

"Take them off," Haruto said abruptly.

The Root member's eyes narrowed in surprise. "Master Haruto, do you mean we're about to undertake a long-term covert mission?"

Haruto chuckled at their eagerness, amused by their singular way of thinking. "No, there's no mission. I simply don't want to see you wearing masks."

The Root members exchanged silent glances but didn't protest. One by one, they removed their masks, revealing faces that were strikingly young but devoid of the vitality typical of youth.

Haruto scrutinized them, noting their stoic expressions and emotionless gazes. Though they were clearly teenagers, their demeanor resembled that of war-hardened veterans.

He nodded approvingly. "See? Much better. Youth is fleeting, and it's a shame to waste it hiding behind masks."

The Root members didn't respond. Their rigid training made it difficult for them to process Haruto's words, which clashed with their utilitarian mindset.

The leader of the group stepped forward hesitantly. "Master Haruto, is this… wise? We're the shadows of the village, operating in secrecy. If others see our faces, the Root's existence could be compromised."

Haruto's gaze sharpened, and his tone turned stern. "Don't speak to me of meaning. Meaning is a crutch for those who lack conviction."

The leader flinched but didn't argue.

"From now on," Haruto continued, "you will adhere to my standards. I forbid you from wearing masks, no matter the mission. You've hidden behind them for too long. It's time to reclaim the faces beneath."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "As of this moment, you're no longer just tools. You're my subordinates, and that means you're people first. Remember that."

The Root members stood silently, their faces betraying no reaction. But Haruto could sense a subtle shift in their demeanor—a crack in the unyielding armor of their conditioning.

"Now," Haruto said, a playful smile tugging at his lips, "here's your first official mission under my command."

The Root members straightened, their attention focused.

"Follow me to my wedding," Haruto said.

A ripple of confusion passed through the group.

"Your wedding, Master Haruto?"

"Yes," he said, his tone light. "And you'll attend without your masks. Use your real faces for once. Consider it an exercise in humanity."

The leader hesitated. "But, Master Haruto—"

"No buts," Haruto interrupted. "This is an order. Think of it as your first step toward rediscovering who you are beneath the masks."

The Root members exchanged uncertain glances but ultimately nodded.

"Yes, Master Haruto," they said in unison.

Haruto smirked, satisfied. Danzo, you created obedient soldiers. Let's see how they fare as real people.

---

Inside the Uchiha estate, the wedding festivities were in full swing. Guests from various clans mingled, exchanging pleasantries amidst the vibrant decor and cheerful atmosphere.

Haruto entered with his entourage of unmasked Root members, drawing curious stares. He greeted his wives, Retsu and his first partner, who were radiant in their traditional attire.

Retsu glanced at the Root ninjas and raised an eyebrow. "Haruto, who are these guests?"

"They're my new subordinates," Haruto explained casually. "I thought it'd be good for them to experience some normalcy."

Retsu gave him a knowing look but didn't press further.

Throughout the evening, the Root members stood awkwardly at the edge of the gathering, clearly out of their element. But Haruto paid them no mind, focusing instead on celebrating with his family and guests.

As the festivities wound down, Haruto approached the Root members. "How was it? Did you enjoy yourselves?"

The leader hesitated, then said, "It was… different."

Haruto chuckled. "Good. You'll get used to it."

As he walked away, he glanced back at the group. Their expressions were still blank, but there was a subtle change—a flicker of something unspoken, buried beneath years of conditioning.

One step at a time, Haruto thought. They'll learn to live, not just exist.

And with that, he turned his attention back to the party, ready to embrace the challenges ahead.

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