"Aizen, did you complete another mission?"
"Was it capturing a spy?"
"No, no. It must've been gathering intelligence!"
Aizen sighed as he sat under the shade of the training yard tree, surrounded by younger Uchiha clan kids. Most of them were still not academy students, a few barely old enough to walk straight without tripping over.
To Aizen, they looked more like aspiring pranksters than future shinobi. And yet…
Their eyes were wide, burning with dreams they didn't yet understand. Their questions, though silly, were laced with admiration.
His head ached just watching their excitement spiral.
But deep down, he didn't mind.
Not at all.
They were loud. They were hopeful. They were still untouched by the truth of the world. And somehow, being around them made his mood lighter, like standing near a hearth after a cold rain.
It reminded him why he was doing all this.
Why he couldn't afford to fail.
Why he had to protect them.
"No," Aizen finally answered, exhaling softly. "Just another D-rank mission."
A chorus of gasps followed.
"Eh? Why?"
"Are they looking down on you?"
"Don't worry, Nii-san. I'll talk to Dad!"
"I'll tell Grandpa too!"
Aizen blinked at their eagerness, watching them with a deadpan expression as they whispered and plotted behind cupped hands like tiny revolutionaries. It was absurd. And strangely heartwarming.
"Are you trying to get me killed?" he muttered dryly.
All three froze.
"No!"
"Never!"
"Why would we hate you, Aizen-nii? You're always nice to us!"
He gave a small, tired smile. "Isn't it obvious? I'm not that strong yet. If I start doing high-level missions now, I'll probably die."
"…Oh." One of the younger boys lowered his head, his voice soft and guilty. "Sorry, Nii-san…"
"Sorry, Aizen-nii-san. I don't want you to die like Miku."
Aizen's expression froze.
Miku?
He mentally sifted through the clan registry. The name didn't ring any bells, at least not to his knowledge. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"Who's Miku?"
The boy's lower lip trembled. He looked like he regretted saying anything.
"He was… my puppy. I saved him about a month ago. He was really small and always followed me around. Grandpa even let me keep him."
He sniffled.
"But… last week he got sick and… and he died."
Aizen was quiet.
He hadn't expected that.
And yet, as the boy wiped his tears with his sleeve, Aizen reached out and gently ruffled his hair.
"I see," he said softly. "Miku was lucky. He got to be with someone who cared about him."
The boy sniffled again, looking up. "You won't die, right?"
Aizen forced a small smile.
"I won't."
But behind that smile, his mind raced.
The puppy. The timing. The bond. The loss.
It wasn't a coincidence.
This was a subtle tradition, an old and quiet method passed down through the clan. A controlled dose of grief.
The elders let the younger ones keep pets. Dogs, cats, birds. Small, loyal creatures that children could bond with easily. And then, almost as if by fate, those pets would die within a few months.
Not always, of course. Not everyone awakened the Sharingan.
But the method worked well enough. If it didn't unlock their eyes, it still taught them about death. About emotional control. About letting go.
"You can't freeze on the battlefield," Aizen recalled his grandfather's words. "Better to cry over a pet than break down holding a teammate's corpse."
Yes. That's what this was.
Something like this had been tried with him too, when he was four. A stray dog had suddenly started following him around, fed scraps by clan shinobi who just happened to pass by. But even back then, he'd figured it out. He hadn't let the animal get close.
He couldn't afford it.
He didn't need to be broken to grow. He needed control.
To many outsiders, it would seem cruel. Calculated. Heartless.
But this was the Uchiha Clan.
You either learned to live with pain or died because of it.
He watched the boy rub his eyes and wipe away tears with his sleeve.
"You'll be alright," Aizen murmured, more to himself than the boy.
This moment was why he trained. Why he endured.
Not to make a name. Not for vengeance. But for them.
For the next generation.
For the cousins and siblings who still laughed and ran barefoot across the courtyard.
But ideals alone wouldn't shield them.
Kindness wouldn't stop kunai. Empathy wouldn't deflect jutsu.
If he truly wanted to safeguard his clan's future, he had to do more than survive.
He had to become something greater. Something monstrous.
A shadow that struck before the threat ever reached them.
Not for glory. Not for revenge.
But because someone had to.
He would kill, not because he wanted to, but to make sure they never got the chance to. He would carve out the future with bloodstained hands, so theirs could remain clean.
If that meant being called ruthless, then fine.
If that meant being a tool of violence, so be it.
He would bear that weight. For them.
He looked at the boy once more, still sniffling, but now clutching his sleeve and standing taller.
"You'll grow strong," Aizen said, softly but firmly. "Strong enough to protect others one day. Just don't forget what it means to care. Even if it hurts."
The boy nodded.
And Aizen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun filter through the leaves.
A few more years. That was all he needed.
Time to grow.
Time to prepare.
And then, the world would see just how far he'd go to protect what mattered.
************
Should he become hokage?