Ch.001 Sister - Uchiha Izumi
[~1300 Words]
A week before the Uchiha Massacre.
Uchiha Haruki sat cross-legged on the sloped rooftop, his arms resting over his knees. His gaze lingered on the warm lights of Konoha. It was quiet now—the kind of quiet that felt like it was holding its breath.
Next to him, his sister Uchiha Izumi sat with her legs dangling over the edge, her hands folded in her lap. She leaned slightly into his side, the silence between them familiar and safe.
"You ever think," Haruki began softly, "maybe we are flying too close to the sun?"
Izumi blinked. "You mean… us?"
"The clan." He paused, lips tightening. "Our Uchiha Clan. We were the pride of Konoha once. Power. Prestige. Even fear. But now…" He trailed off.
She turned to look at him, eyes searching his face. "Haruki, we're still strong. Still proud."
Haruki gave a quiet laugh, a low rumble from his chest.
"Pride's a brittle thing, little sis. And I don't see much strength in a clan that's turning in on itself."
Izumi frowned. "Don't talk like that."
"It's just the truth." He sighed, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them.
"Everyone's watching everyone. Whispers. Paranoia. Father won't say it aloud, but he doesn't trust half the elders since he is not a Uchiha and a commoner. And I—"
He cut himself off, swallowing something bitter. Izumi nudged his arm gently.
"...And you what?"
"I can't even awaken the damn Sharingan," he muttered. "Eighteen years old already. And still… nothing." His voice cracked slightly. "Everyone else has red eyes and manuals to train in our legacy. I just have many regrets."
Izumi grabbed his hand. Firm. Warm.
"You're more than your eyes, Haruki."
He turned his head slowly toward her, eyes dull but touched with a fond smile. "You always say that."
"Because it's true," she replied fiercely. "You protected me when we were little. You trained harder than anyone. You're kind when the clan forgets to be. That is the Uchiha name too, you know. Not just fire and eyes."
Haruki was quiet for a long moment, watching her as if trying to memorize the way she spoke, the fire in her eyes.
"I'm scared, Izumi," he finally said. "Something's coming. I don't know what… but it's like the clan is teetering on the edge of something sharp."
Izumi didn't speak for a while. Just leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Then let's not fall off. Let's hold on. Together."
Haruki rested his cheek lightly against her hair.
"Yeah… together."
And for a moment, in the stillness of the rooftop, the Uchiha name didn't feel so heavy.
Haruki exhaled slowly, pulled back while saying, "Even my teammates are distancing themselves lately."
Izumi blinked. "Your Yamanaka and Nara teammates?"
"Yeah," he muttered. "I mean… we weren't best friends or anything, but we used to get ramen together after missions. Train weekly. Now they barely say more than a word or two. It's like they're walking on eggshells."
His brow furrowed.
"I get it. We're Uchihas. We carry this... heavy name. But we're on the same squad. Or we were."
Izumi looked concerned. "What do you mean?"
Haruki glanced toward the stars starting to blink through the navy-blue sky.
"Our last mission got cancelled. Supposed to be a patrol along the border, but then both the Yamanaka and Nara clans called their Genin and Chunin back for 'internal training.' No explanation. I didn't even get a replacement assignment."
He leaned back on his hands.
"And now, all Uchiha Genin and Chunin have been called back too. 'Training orders from the clan head,' they said. But I'm not in those meetings… you know why."
Izumi's heart sank slightly.
She knew how it hurt Haruki to be excluded. To be sidelined because he hadn't awakened his Sharingan. To be treated like a useless.
"It's probably nothing," she offered, gently. "Just… maybe the village is being cautious."
Haruki snorted softly.
"When the clans start pulling their kids out of mixed teams, it's not caution. It's fear."
There was a long pause. Izumi looked down at her lap, fiddling with a loose thread on her sleeve.
Haruki turned his head slightly, side-eyeing her with a raised brow.
"You've been quiet. More than usual. Something on your mind?"
She hesitated.
"...No. Just thinking."
Haruki gave her a suspicious squint. Then, without missing a beat, he asked—
"Still hanging around Itachi?"
Izumi's head jerked up. "W-What?"
Haruki smirked.
"You know what I mean. You're always bumping into him during training hours. Or walking the long way back from the Academy."
Izumi blushed deeply, tugging her sleeves up to her chin.
"He's not my boyfriend!"
Haruki chuckled, that rare warmth back in his voice for a moment. "Didn't say he was."
"Well, he's not!" she said again, louder this time, before muttering, "He's just… easy to talk to. We understand each other."
Haruki's smile faded slightly as he looked up at the stars.
"I know he's a good kid. Maybe smarter than the whole clan combined. But Izumi…"
He turned to face her seriously.
"Don't get too close."
Izumi blinked in surprise. "Why not?"
Haruki's jaw clenched.
"Because Itachi isn't just a boy with kind eyes anymore. He's the future clan leader. Maybe even a double agent for the village. You know it. I know it. Even I heard such whispers. That kind of life… it's not made for love."
His voice lowered.
"And if something ever happened to him... if someone came for him... He couldn't protect you."
Izumi looked away, her voice small. "He wouldn't let anything happen to me."
"That's what scares me," Haruki whispered. "He would sacrifice himself for the village. Or the clan. Or both. But love?" He shook his head. "Love won't come first for him. It never can."
He reached out and placed a hand over hers.
"You deserve someone who can be selfish for you. Who doesn't live with a knife in the dark every day. Someone who can walk with you in the village and not be hunted in their heart."
Izumi didn't answer for a moment, lips trembling. Her eyes glossed over, but she blinked the tears away before they could fall.
"I… I know," she whispered. "It's just—he's the only one who treats me like I'm not just another Uchiha."
Haruki's expression softened.
"Then promise me something."
She looked at him.
"If it ever becomes more than friendship, if it ever starts pulling you into the shadows he walks… pull back. Let him go. Please."
Izumi swallowed hard, then nodded faintly.
"Okay."
Haruki leaned back again, exhaling long and slow. "Good."
A silence hung between them again, but it was no longer heavy. Just tired.
"I hope you marry a commoner," Haruki said after a while, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Someone who doesn't care about clans, or chakra, or duty. Just someone who makes you smile when you wake up."
Izumi smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"And you? What kind of person will you marry?"
Haruki looked away toward the darkness beyond the village.
"Me? Heh. I'm probably destined to die single and boring."
Izumi leaned against his shoulder again.
"You're not boring. You're just… unrecognized."
He rested his cheek lightly atop her head.
"Maybe. But as long as you live a good life, little sis… mine doesn't need to be legendary."
————————
Ch.002 Father - Haruto
[~ 1000 Words]
A week before the Uchiha Massacre.
Izumi rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her skirt.
"I should go start dinner before Father yells again," she said with a tired smile.
Haruki chuckled. "Tell him to cook it himself for once."
She gave him a playful shove. "You tell him that, Chunin. I'd like to live a little longer."
As she turned and climbed down the side of the tiled roof with practiced ease, Haruki leaned back against the slanted tiles, folding his arms behind his head. Alone again, he let his thoughts drift to the glowing homes across the village.
Below, he saw children playing along the road—laughing, chasing each other with sticks, pretending to be ninja.
Parents called out lovingly to them from open doors. The soft sound of music or laughter drifted from the civilian districts. There was joy there. Freedom. A life untouched by legacy or suspicion.
He sighed.
So different from the Uchiha Clan´s compound. Here, their legacy was a chain. And no matter how much you smiled, it made the others only afraid.
Haruki closed his eyes briefly.
"Maybe I was born in the wrong clan…"
"Tch."
A sharp throat-clearing echoed behind him. Haruki's body tensed before turning his head slightly.
There stood Haruto, his father.
Tall, with stern eyes like dark steel, his expression was unreadable as usual. But his arms were crossed, and he didn't look angry—just... present. Watching. Listening.
"How long were you standing there?" Haruki asked with a nervous chuckle.
Haruto stepped forward onto the tiles with uncanny balance and grace, crouching beside him without looking directly at him.
"Long enough to hear what you said to your sister."
Haruki winced slightly and sat up straighter. "Sorry if I said anything wrong…"
Haruto waved a hand.
"You didn't. In fact…" —he looked off into the distance— "...You spoke with more sense than most of the elders of the Clan."
That surprised Haruki.
"Better she lives a long and normal life than die gloriously," Haruto added.
A long silence followed those words. They hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like it came from years of buried pain.
Haruki lowered his gaze. "I should've awakened my Sharingan by now. Maybe then I could've helped. With the clan, with you, with—"
"Enough," Haruto cut in sharply, raising one hand. "We've been over this. I didn't raise an emotional idiot."
Haruki looked up.
"You think your mother awakened her Sharingan because of some brilliant strategy? No. She was thirteen. Her teammate was impaled on a kunai trap, and she saw it happen. That was her 'glorious' awakening."
His jaw tightened.
"You not awakening yours isn't shameful. It's just fate. Some fires need more time to burn."
Haruki was stunned for a moment.
His father wasn't the type to speak about emotions or memories, let alone `Hazuki Uchiha´, the mother Haruki barely remembered.
His father, Haruto stood and brushed dust off his robe.
"Besides, you have solid basics. Solid Taijutsu. Elemental control better than most of the clan brats with their fancy red eyes. That's why you'll make a damn good Chunin Instructor soon."
Haruki blinked. "You think I should… become an instructor?"
Haruto nodded once. "A real one. Teach the next batch of genin. Build a legacy that's more than just the Uchiha. The village may not see it now, but strength is more than jutsu and bloodlines."
Haruki sat quietly, absorbing the words.
Then Haruto's tone changed—lower, thoughtful.
"There's something else."
He turned and looked directly at his son.
"Your mother left behind some of her jutsu scrolls. Clan techniques. Fire Style. Lightning Style. Genjutsu. Uchiha counters. All the way to jonin level."
Haruki's eyes widened. "She did?"
Haruto nodded. "She wanted to pass them on to the child who could walk her path. I was saving them… waiting for the day you awakened the Sharingan."
He turned his back slightly, staring into the night.
"But with the way things are now… the clan feels like it's standing on a wire. Everyone's nervous. Watching. Planning. I don't know what's going to happen, Haruki."
Another pause.
"So I'd rather you be ready."
Haruki stood up slowly, eyes serious now.
"You want me to train with them?"
Haruto nodded. "Not the advanced ones. Just the chunin-level scrolls for now. I will give them tomorrow. Master them quickly. At least if something unexpected happens…"
"I won't be helpless," Haruki finished for him.
Haruto glanced back over his shoulder.
"Exactly."
For a long moment, father and son stood beneath the stars. One without the Sharingan, and one without the softness to show his worry. But between them, they had something real, Something unspoken.
To protect their family.
Haruki exhaled.
"Thanks, Dad."
Haruto gave a small grunt and stepped toward the edge of the roof.
"Don't tell Izumi. She'll want to read the Genjutsu scrolls and accidentally fry a bird again."
Haruki chuckled. "No promises."
Haruto dropped down from the roof silently, leaving his son with the stars.
Haruki sat again, heart heavier, but eyes sharper. Something inside him stirred—no, not the Sharingan. Not yet.
But a will to live. To protect.
And maybe… that was the beginning of his Legend.
Ch.003 Buying Tools
[~ 900 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
Location: Konoha City Center – Main Market Street.
The sun shone gently on the back of Uchiha Haruki as he walked down the bustling stone-paved street toward the City Center—Konoha's main marketplace. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted chestnuts, Barbecue shops, Ramen shops, street foods, and the sharp scent of metal from nearby forge shops. Chatter filled the air: children bartering candy, shinobi examining gear, and traders yelling over prices.
He moved at a calm pace, dressed casually in a dark shirt and flak vest, the Uchiha fan symbol stark and bright on his back. And like clockwork... the glances began.
Two women exiting a flower shop glanced his way. One of them nudged the other subtly with her elbow.
"Uchiha," someone murmured from across the street.
Another passerby—a civilian merchant in fine robes—cast a disgusted glance, turned up his nose, and crossed the street as if avoiding a puddle.
Haruki sighed through his nose, pretending not to notice, though his shoulders tensed. Every time, he thought.
He passed a pair of Genin from another clan—a Mitokado boy and a Utatane girl—who lowered their voices and whispered behind cupped hands as he passed. They weren't subtle. But they didn't need to be.
"They walk around like they own the place."
"Tch, the Uchiha only patrol the outskirts and poor sectors anyway. What are they even doing here?"
He ignored it. He had long since learned that fighting the looks only made it worse. Just walk. Breathe. Get the supplies and return.
Despite their role as the Konoha Military Police Force, the Uchiha were limited in their authority. They policed the outer rings of the village—rural sectors, lesser trade districts, and residential zones. But the inner districts—controlled by the Sarutobi, Shimura, Mitokado, and Utatane clans—remained off-limits.
"Not enough trust," Haruki thought bitterly. "Even though it's our blood that keeps the gates guarded."
The Uchiha were forceful by nature, proud and commanding in their tone and posture. It was the way they'd always been, and it didn't mesh well with the soft, polished diplomacy of Konoha's high clans—especially those tied to commerce and medicine.
They had no allies. Not among the trade clans. Not among the council families. Not even among the civilians. The name Uchiha inspired awe, but never affection.
And Haruki? He was just an average Uchiha. No fanfare. No Red eyes. Just a man trying to live quietly. But even his clan crest painted a target on his back.
Finally, he reached the edge of the commercial strip—a quieter corner, tucked beside a weapons-smith and a tool shop, nestled under the shade of a tall redwood.
"Takeda's Tools & Tactical Supplies."
He stepped inside with relief. The air inside was cool, tinged with oil and steel. Scroll racks lined the walls, and a glass case showcased shuriken, smoke bombs, and customized kunai. Behind the counter stood Takeda, a grizzled middle-aged man with a prosthetic leg and a calm presence.
Takeda looked up and smiled faintly beneath his beard.
"Haruki. Back for more toys?"
Haruki exhaled softly, the tension draining from his face. "Not Toys, they are tools old man, but Yeah. Almost ran out of smoke tags last week. Thought I'd top up before I start accidentally losing sparring matches."
Takeda chuckled, moving toward the supply cabinet.
"Glad you're here. The new seal-lined kunai came in—more balanced, sharper tip. Made for clean throws, even when chakra's low."
Haruki walked toward the glass case, eyes trailing over the tools.
"You always have the good stuff."
"Well, you don't act like the rest of your clan," Takeda said, not unkindly. "You don't walk in here like you're doing me a favor."
Haruki chuckled. "I'm just glad you don't run at the first moment when you see my back."
Takeda placed a box of tags on the counter. "I fought in the Third Ninja War, son. I've seen enough clans and crests to last me a lifetime. A symbol only means what the person carrying it decides it means."
Haruki looked up at him, the words surprisingly comforting. Maybe even rare.
"Thanks," Haruki said genuinely. "You know, not many in this part of the village see it that way."
"That's their problem." Takeda grunted. "Now, you need more sealing scrolls? Or are you planning on charging into battle with spit and guts?"
Haruki grinned slightly. "Better give me a roll. Never know what tomorrow brings."
As Takeda turned to prepare the items, Haruki glanced at his reflection in the glass. For a moment, all he saw was the Uchiha crest on his back—and all the expectations, hatred, and history it carried.
But then he looked into his own eyes.
No Red Tomoe. No Sharingan. Just… him.
Still standing. Still trying.
Ch.004 The Female Trio
[~ 1400 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
Location & Time: Late afternoon, Konoha's dango street stand near the training field crossroads. A popular spot among off-duty shinobi.
The skewer crackled lightly as Haruki bit into the grilled dango, the sweet sauce sticking slightly to his lips. He had just stepped out from Takeda's Tools and was heading back toward the residential path when he noticed a familiar voice break into laughter just ahead.
He stopped.
Three kunoichi in standard attire, each distinct in their energy, stood at a dango stand. Laughing, eating, chatting — like the weight of the village's tensions didn't quite reach this moment.
Yūgao Uzuki. [his age 18]
Anko Mitarashi. [slightly senior at 19]
Yūhi Kurenai. [Senior at 22]
Haruki hesitated for a beat, then smiled and approached with his hands in his pockets.
"Didn't think I'd see the whole powerhouse trio in one place. Is this a tactical meeting or a sugar raid?"
Yūgao turned at the sound of his voice — her lavender eyes lighting up with familiarity. "Haruki?"
"Hey, Yūgao," he grinned. "Still got a better posture than most captains."
She chuckled. "Still making unnecessary compliments, huh?"
Anko leaned forward with a grin. "Oho~ Who's this smooth-talker? Another fanboy?"
Yūgao shook her head. "We were classmates at the Academy. Haruki Uchiha."
Anko exaggerated a gasp. "Uchiha? And you didn't come brooding and flaming like the others?"
Haruki mock-bowed. "I specialize in dango diplomacy instead of arrogance."
Kurenai laughed softly, her expression warm but reserved. "That's a first."
Haruki scratched the back of his neck. "If you ladies aren't in a hurry, I'll buy the next round. Least I can do for the trouble of being memorable."
Yūgao smirked. "We're not turning down free dango."
They gathered at a low bench beside the stand as the vendor brought over four fresh plates.
Anko chewed loudly, already on her second skewer. "So, what's our mystery Uchiha been up to? Teaching? Chasing skirt? Secret ANBU?"
Haruki smiled faintly. "None of the above. I've been on stand-by. All missions canceled for my squad. Everyone's being pulled back. A little… frustrating, honestly."
Kurenai's red eyes flicked toward him thoughtfully. "You're not the only one. Most Uchiha genin and chunin have been recalled, right?"
Haruki nodded. "Yeah. Even my old teammates from the Nara and Yamanaka clans got pulled out for internal clan 'training.' No word on when or if we'll be reassigned. It's like I'm being benched in a match I trained ten years for."
He looked into the distance, tone mild but with an undercurrent of resentment. "Feels like something's moving under the surface, and no one's telling us what."
Kurenai placed her skewer down gently. "You're pretty observant. But don't lose sleep over it. The higher-ups are tense, yes… but sometimes, the best thing a shinobi can do is stay sharp until the storm passes."
Her voice had a calm assurance to it — not dismissive, but he felt good hearing her calm voice.
Haruki gave a small nod. "Thanks. Just needed someone to say it."
He turned slightly toward Yūgao, eyebrow raised with playful curiosity. "And what about you, Uzuki? Still training with Hayate? Or is that training now?"
Yūgao froze, mid-chew. "W-What?!"
Anko burst out laughing, nearly dropping her plate. "Oh hell, he went there!"
Kurenai smirked. "I was wondering how long it would take him to ask."
Yūgao's face flushed pink as she waved her hands. "We're not—! I mean—he's just— we're sparring partners! That's it!"
Haruki laughed quietly. "Relax. I was just asking."
Yūgao gave him a look between flustered and betrayed. "I should've let Anko prank you back in the Academy..."
Anko leaned on Haruki's shoulder exaggeratedly. "Don't worry, Yūgao and Hayate sitting in a tree is our favorite training chant now."
Haruki smirked. "Poor guy's doomed."
After the laughter died down, Haruki's tone turned more thoughtful.
"Actually, Kurenai-san. I wanted to ask a favor."
Kurenai looked up.
"My younger sister, Izumi. She's got a knack for Genjutsu — but only a bit of academy-level stuff so far. I think she could really benefit from some guidance."
He took a breath, careful not to sound like he was overstepping.
"I'll pay for your time properly. She looks up to you more than any of the instructors. If you have an hour or two to spare sometime soon…"
Kurenai considered him quietly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Not this week," she said finally. "There's a lot going on — a few assignments overlapping. But I'll come by next week. No payment needed."
Haruki blinked. "You sure?"
Kurenai nodded. "I'll consider it an investment in the next generation. And besides… I always liked helping students who show promise."
Anko added, "If your sister's half as polite as you, I'm expecting cookies when I drop by."
Yūgao smiled. "I'll come too if you need a sparring partner for her."
Haruki's shoulders relaxed. He bowed slightly. "Thank you. Truly. I owe you all."
They talked a while longer — about old instructors, failed jutsu attempts, and sparring mishaps from the Academy. For a brief moment, Haruki felt lighter. Not like an Uchiha. Just like a shinobi. A friend.
When they eventually parted ways at the fork of the path, Anko waved lazily.
"Don't disappear. You're more fun than half the jonin."
Yūgao added with a blush, "Don't tell Hayate I blushed."
Kurenai gave him one last look, her voice calm and soft.
"Haruki. Stay alert. And… take care of Izumi. She's a good one."
Haruki nodded. "I will."
As they disappeared into the crowd, Haruki stood alone again. But not lonely.
For once, the village didn't feel entirely cold.
Location: Early evening, the Uchiha residence — warm lamplight in the wooden hallways.
The sun was beginning to dip below the rooftops of the Uchiha compound as Haruki stepped through the front gate, the soft crunch of gravel under his sandals barely audible. He slid open the paper door to the main hallway, the familiar scent of incense and tea welcoming him home.
"Izumi," he called out casually, setting down his bag. "You home?"
A rustle came from the room at the end of the corridor, followed by the hurried patter of small feet.
"Haruki-nii!" she beamed, peeking around the corner, still in her academy uniform. Her cheeks were slightly red from sparring, and a faint ink stain marked her sleeve.
He stepped toward her, hiding the smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.
"Got a minute? I've got something to tell you."
Izumi blinked, sensing the tone shift. She tilted her head curiously.
"Hmm? What is it?"
Haruki crossed his arms, then leaned against the wooden frame.
"I ran into Kurenai-sensei today. Asked her if she'd be willing to give you a little one-on-one Genjutsu training."
Izumi's eyes widened instantly.
"W-Wait. You asked Kurenai-sensei? The Kurenai-sensei?!"
Haruki chuckled. "Is there another one I should've asked?"
"Wha— What did she say?!"
"She said yes. She'll come by sometime next week."
For a heartbeat, Izumi just stood frozen, her little fists clutched near her chest.
Then she squealed.
"Waaaaah! Yessss!!"
She jumped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Haruki's waist, burying her cheek into his flak vest.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, nii-chan!! You're the best!"
Haruki smiled softly, ruffling her black hair with a warm palm.
"Study hard. Don't waste her time. Kurenai doesn't train slackers."
"I won't! I swear! I'll show her all the Genjutsu I learned already!"
"Mhm," Haruki said, tugging her ponytail lightly. "Just don't go trying to hypnotize me again with that fake fog trick."
Izumi giggled. "No promises~!"
She turned on her heel, nearly slipping as she bolted down the hall.
"Dad! Daaaad!! Haruki-nii got Kurenai-sensei to train me! She's coming next week!"
Haruki watched from the doorway, hearing the muffled sound of their father's surprised voice and Izumi's excited retelling bouncing through the house.
His smile lingered for a while.
In a village that felt colder every day, her joy was a rare warmth he'd protect at any cost.
Ch.005 Mom´s Letter
[~ 1400 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
Location: Uchiha Household, shortly after Izumi runs off to tell her father the good news.
The hallway quieted after Izumi's voice echoed through the house. Her footsteps retreated into the sitting room, where the paper doors slid closed with a familiar clack.
Haruki remained near the doorway, half-turned, when he heard it — a familiar throat-clearing behind him.
"Haruki," his father called in his steady, low voice.
Haruto stood just inside the family room, wearing his old dark brown yukata, a cup of tea in one hand. His gray-streaked hair was tied back neatly, and though the years had weathered his body, his back was still straight, his presence unmistakably composed. He nodded towards the porch.
"Walk with me."
Haruki followed wordlessly, sensing the weight behind his father's request. The two stepped into the moonlit backyard — a small enclosed garden of trimmed pines and gravel — quiet except for the gentle wind shifting the bamboo chimes.
They stood beneath the awning as Haruto took a long sip of tea.
"Izumi's lucky to have you," he finally said, not looking at Haruki. "You've done good, son."
Haruki lowered his gaze for a moment, watching his own shadow ripple slightly in the lantern light.
"She's… everything we have left."
"She's everything worth protecting," Haruto corrected gently.
A few heartbeats passed before Haruki dared to voice what had gnawed at him for weeks.
"Father… something's off, isn't it?"
Haruto's jaw tightened. He set the cup down beside the pillar with a soft clink.
"I've seen it," he admitted. "More ANBU than usual—rotating watch, sometimes watching our own from the rooftops. They're not being discreet anymore."
Haruki's throat dried.
"Clan meetings... have been different. Tenser."
Haruto gave a slow nod.
"I wouldn't know. You know I'm not allowed to attend. A 'commoner' like me doesn't hold standing among those born with the crest."
He looked toward the sky. His tone was steady, but behind it was a rare undercurrent of bitterness.
"But I listen. I pay attention. I've seen enough men prepare for war to recognize the signs."
Haruki's hand unconsciously moved to the kunai pouch at his thigh.
"You think... they'll move against us?"
Haruto remained silent for a moment, before answering.
"I don't know who will strike first. But I know when people build fences around dogs, they're planning to put them down. The leash tightens before the collar breaks."
A heavy silence hung between them. The distant chirping of crickets was the only sound in the dark.
"We'll need to be ready," Haruto finally said, turning to face his son fully. "If anything happens — anything that doesn't feel right — we run. You take Izumi and leave the compound immediately. You understand?"
Haruki's eyes widened.
"But what about you—?"
"Don't argue." Haruto's voice was sharper now. Not cruel, but final. "My job is to make sure my children survive. You think I trained you every day, pushed you to master the basics, just so you could be a soldier in someone else's war?"
Haruki looked down.
"I'm sorry, Father. For not awakening the Sharingan. I—"
Haruto raised a hand, waving it off.
"You've got your mother's discipline. That's more important than a bloodline trait that turns children into tools."
He stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Haruki's shoulder.
"You'll be a fine Chūnin instructor one day — calm, clear-headed, and solid. The kind of shinobi this village should value. That is if we survive."
Then his tone shifted, quieter but tinged with purpose.
"Don't tell your sister just yet. Let her enjoy her lessons, her laughter, her illusions of peace. If — and only if — something feels wrong, you tell her then. Understood?"
Haruki nodded silently.
Haruto gave one last look to the moonlit garden, then disappeared into the hallway, the door closing softly behind him.
Haruki remained behind, watching the shadows grow deeper.
He didn't want to believe his father's instinct was right.
But the ANBU on the rooftops, the silences in clan meetings, the subtle tightening of the net around their lives — it all pointed to something.
And he was already preparing for the night when everything would burn.
Location: after Haruki's talk with his father — late at night, inside the Uchiha family's storage room.
The house was silent.
Izumi had gone to bed early, still beaming from the news of Kurenai-sensei agreeing to train her. Their father rested in the other room with his old blade laid beside him — a habit he'd returned to lately, saying nothing about it.
Haruki sat alone on the cool wooden floor of the family storehouse, a single candle flickering beside him. The air smelled of dry parchment, oil ink, and a faint trace of lavender — his mother's scent.
Before him sat a timeworn chest. The lid creaked faintly as he opened it.
"She sealed these away herself…" he murmured, reverently running his hand along the inner edge.
Inside were six scrolls, wrapped in deep red silk and marked with the Uchiha crest. They were old — older than he expected. At the bottom lay a final scroll, different from the others: wrapped in faded violet cloth, tied not with red, but white thread.
He picked up the first scroll on top and untied it carefully.
"Katon: Gōka Mekkyaku" (Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation) — a devastating wide-range fire technique.
"Way beyond me for now…" he muttered, setting it aside.
The next two scrolls held "Katon: Hibashiri" (Fire Release: Running Fire) and "Katon: Kasumi Enbu no Jutsu" (Fire Release: Mist Blaze Dance Technique) — both high-level techniques used for offense and deception.
But what caught his eye weren't just the jutsu diagrams — it was the ink in the margins.
Small, elegant notes. Not part of the printed instructions.
Handwritten.
His breath caught as he recognized the writing. It was his mother's.
"Haruki, you tend to over-extend the third seal. If you're reading this: control your breath first — jutsu second."
He stared. His fingers trembled.
"Izumi will never love Katon like you. Let her chase illusions. You're meant for stillness — let your flame hold, not burst."
More and more of her thoughts filled the corners and sides of the scrolls — bits of advice, encouragement, even light scolding — all addressed to him.
It felt like… she was still teaching him.
Tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back.
Then he picked up the violet scroll at the bottom — the one tied with white.
It was lighter than the others, and as he unwrapped it, he saw not diagrams — but a letter, sealed in wax with Hazuki's personal Uchiha crest.
With quiet hands, he broke the seal and began to read.
**"To my son, Haruki —
If you're reading this, it means your father believes it's time. I trust his instincts.
You may never awaken the Sharingan. But do not think you lack worth. It means you must forge your own strength, and that strength will be yours alone.
These scrolls are not only ninjutsu — they are me. My memories, my corrections, my failures. I left them so you wouldn't be alone if I could no longer guide you.
And if something happens to our clan — if danger comes even from within — protect Izumi. Her heart will never know the cruelty of shinobi life… unless it has to.
The Uchiha flame burns in your soul — not your eyes. That flame, shaped by kindness, will make you stronger than the bloodline ever could.
— Mom, Uchiha Hazuki"**
Haruki exhaled shakily.
He touched the scroll to his forehead, eyes closed — a silent bow to his mother's will.
As the candle dwindled, he turned back to the first training scroll.
"Mother said to hold the flame…"
He steadied his breathing.
"Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu" (Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique).
He formed the hand seals slowly, recalling every note she'd written.
Flames danced in his throat — and burst forth in precise, miniature fireballs. They spun through the air, sizzling gently before fading out in the night breeze.
His most precise attempt yet.
"Thank you… Mom," he whispered.
Ch.006 Training in the Woods
[~ 900 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
Location: A secluded clearing at the edge of the Uchiha District, used long ago by Hazuki Uchiha for her own training. Haruki returns here with her scrolls in hand.
Among the belongings his mother left behind were:
~Detailed chakra theory notes and ninjutsu scrolls for Fire Style techniques from Genin to Jonin level, both usable with and without the Sharingan.
~Genjutsu manuals for deceptive combat, especially potent when combined with the Sharingan.
~Advanced taijutsu forms adapted for the Uchiha's speed and reflexes.
~A Summoning Contract Scroll for crows, signed with her blood and ready to be passed down.
~A weathered diary filled with personal notes, regrets, and insights into her shinobi career and her hopes for Haruki and Izumi.
Day One – Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu (Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique)
The morning mist hadn't yet cleared when Haruki stood shirtless under the rising sun, sweat already forming from his warm-ups. The scroll lay unrolled before him, pinned down with kunai. His mother's elegant handwriting marked detailed chakra flow diagrams and commentary:
"Control your breath like you control your will. Fire isn't born from rage. It's born from intention."
Haruki knelt, forming the hand seals slowly.
"Snake → Ram → Monkey → Boar → Horse → Tiger..."
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, molding his chakra the way the scroll described. He felt the fire spark in his gut, swirling with the air, rising into his chest—
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!" (Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique)
A large burst of fire erupted from his mouth, but it sputtered midstream—wild and uneven. It scorched the trees, but not like the controlled inferno he had seen Izumi or other Uchiha produce.
He clenched his fists, breathing heavily.
"Again."
It wasn't until noon that the flames began to form a perfect, searing sphere, roaring forward with real force. Haruki collapsed onto one knee, coughing but smiling faintly.
"I'm not my mother. But maybe I'm not so useless after all."
Day Two – Morning: Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu (Fire Style: Dragon Fire Technique)
Haruki stood beneath a tall tree, its bark marked with kunai and scorch marks from years of use. Today's scroll was more advanced—Ryūka required precise chakra control through a wire, meant to bind and burn simultaneously.
He tied ninja wire between his fingers and the trunk. His chakra had to travel through the wire to carry the flame.
He practiced the seals. Snake → Dragon → Rabbit → Tiger.
"Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu!" (Fire Style: Dragon Fire Technique)
A thin flame shot out—pathetic and weak. The wire fizzled instead of catching fire. He groaned.
"Too much chakra at the tip... I need it even."
He spent hours adjusting his flow, meditating between attempts. Remembering his father's words:
"Your basics are strong. Use them."
By noon, the wire gleamed red-hot, the fire coiling along its length like a serpent.
"Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu!" (Fire Style: Dragon Fire Technique)
This time, a long, concentrated stream of flame shot forth—controlled, lethal, searing into the tree and slicing a line into the bark like a branding iron. Smoke curled upward. Haruki wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Now that felt like a dragon."
Day Two – Evening: Katon: Hōsenka Tsumabeni (Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire with Shuriken)
The third scroll was thinner—less chakra intensive, but far more precise. A jutsu Hazuki noted was her favorite for deceptive movement in combat.
"You don't win battles with brute force alone. Sometimes, fire needs fangs."
Haruki studied the scroll: a rapid-fire technique involving multiple small fireballs launched alongside hidden shuriken.
He lined up the seals. Rat → Tiger → Dog → Ox → Rabbit → Tiger.
He threw a handful of shuriken in one fluid motion and expelled several fireballs with them.
"Katon: Hōsenka Tsumabeni!" (Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire with Shuriken)
The flames sputtered unevenly, shuriken spinning off course. Some of the flames even missed the targets completely. He groaned.
"Focus. Rhythm. Not force."
He repeated the technique over and over again, refining the motion—inhale, spin, exhale, release. By dusk, he managed to launch six fireballs in rapid succession, each cloaking a spinning shuriken that embedded itself into the training posts with a hiss of steam and smoke.
Thuk! Thuk! Thuk!
Crack!
A distant tree branch broke and fell. Haruki stood there, panting, hands smudged with ash and soot, lips scorched slightly from repeated exertion—but smiling.
End of Day Two:
As he gathered the scrolls and cleaned up the training field, Haruki glanced up at the setting sun. Orange flames rippled across the sky, painting Konoha in hues of fire and dusk.
He clutched the scrolls close, whispering almost to the wind:
"Thank you, Mom. I'll make sure this doesn't go to waste."
His heart beat stronger now. Not with ambition, not with vengeance—but with readiness. If something were coming… he wouldn't run. He'd stand. For Izumi. For himself.
Even if he had no Sharingan—
He had his fire.
Ch.007 Kurenai-san?
[~1000 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
Location: Evening, Uchiha household – Haruki's room, warm lamplight flickering against old wood and worn tatami mats. The scroll of the Crow Summoning Contract lay unrolled across a low table.
The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of paper and the scratching of a brush. Haruki knelt before a large scroll, its inked names dating back generations—names of long-passed Uchiha who once commanded the skies with feathered eyes.
His father, seated cross-legged behind him, watched silently.
"You sure about this, Haruki?"
His voice was low, like the crackle of a dying campfire.
"Your mother hadn't used that scroll in years. It's not a pact to take lightly."
Haruki dipped the brush into ink and signed his name in clear strokes beside Hazuki Uchiha's.
"I know. That's why I'm doing it now."
He bit into his thumb, blood welling to the surface. The pain was brief—but the intention was deep.
"Kuchiyose Keiyaku no Sho... (Summoning Contract Seal)"
Pressing his bloodied hand to the scroll, chakra surged through the parchment. The kanji beneath his signature shimmered, glowing faintly with a red hue before fading into permanence.
A brief gust of wind swept through the open window, rustling the scroll and scattering a few stray feathers across the tatami.
"...They accepted you," his father muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Haruki nodded, feeling a shift in the air. The room smelled faintly of ink and ozone. He rolled up the contract with care.
"It's strange," Haruki said, glancing at the last name before his. "I always thought crows were just messengers or spies. "
His father sighed and stood slowly, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder.
"They were your mother's eyes beyond the battlefield. She used them to survey and also to protect… not just to strike."
A pause. "If you use them, use them wisely. Not just for war."
Haruki gave a faint smile. "I'll summon one tomorrow. Try a basic contract call."
His father smirked. "Don't be surprised if you get pecked. Crows are prideful bastards."
Haruki chuckled, the weight of the day lightening just slightly. As he tucked the scroll away in a chest beside his mother's ninjutsu notes, he whispered more to himself than anyone else:
"Then I'll earn their respect. Just like hers."
Outside, a single crow landed on the roof, silhouetted against the moon.
—————
Location & Time: Next Day, Uchiha household courtyard, midday.
The summer sun casts soft light through a blooming cherry tree as the scent of steaming miso and grilled vegetables fills the air.
A gentle knock echoed from the wooden gate.
"Eh?" Haruki looked up from sweeping the walkway. "Kurenai-san?"
There she stood, elegant as ever in her red mesh ensemble and flak jacket, with a soft smile tugging her lips.
"I had a mission postponed. Thought I'd drop by and meet your sister early."
She gave a warm nod. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
"No way!" came Izumi's voice from inside. She dashed out, still tying the sash of her tunic. "You're really here?!"
Haruki chuckled. "You caught us before lunch. Join us?"
Minutes later, the three of them sat cross-legged around a low table on the engawa, enjoying hot bowls of miso soup, pickled radish, and grilled rice balls wrapped in seaweed.
Izumi beamed, cheeks stuffed slightly.
"Kurenai-sensei, this is the best day ever. I thought I'd have to wait until next week!"
Kurenai laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're enthusiastic—good. But let's keep that energy for training too."
Haruki grinned. "You're in for it now, Izumi."
Izumi stuck out her tongue playfully before downing a sip of soup. "So, what are we starting with?"
Kurenai set her bowl aside. "I want to build a strong foundation, so today we'll work on two basic but crucial Genjutsu techniques. The first is Genjutsu: Kai—the release technique. You need to learn how to break out of illusions, not just cast them."
"That's the one where you disrupt your own chakra flow, right?" Haruki asked, brow furrowed.
"Exactly." Kurenai nodded approvingly. "Even non-genjutsu specialists need it, but for someone with Izumi's interest, it's mandatory."
Izumi straightened with wide eyes. "And the second one?"
Kurenai's expression softened. "We'll start training your chakra flow for Kasumi Jūsha no Jutsu—the Mist Servant Technique. It creates multiple illusions of yourself to confuse an enemy. It's simple in structure but tricky in timing and placement."
"Clones that aren't real?" Izumi's eyes sparkled. "That sounds cool."
"It's not about looking flashy," Kurenai said, tapping her forehead gently. "It's about misdirection. You want the enemy unsure where to look, what to strike. That's when you move."
Haruki leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "You'll be able to prank the neighbors too. Carefully, of course."
"I'm not gonna use Genjutsu for pranks!" Izumi huffed, puffing her cheeks.
"That's exactly what someone planning a prank would say," Haruki teased.
Kurenai smiled quietly at their dynamic before finishing her tea.
"We'll begin in the courtyard in half an hour. Stretch, hydrate, and bring your focus. We'll start slow but deliberate."
Izumi pumped a fist in the air. "Hai!"
As Haruki watched his sister's excitement and Kurenai's calm mentoring presence, a rare warmth filled his chest. In this moment—away from the clan meetings, the growing whispers, and the ANBU stares—it felt like the Uchiha compound still held life.
But even so… his gaze drifted upward to the rooftops, where a single ANBU mask glinted briefly in the sun before vanishing.
Just a little longer, he thought.
Ch.008 Miso Ramen with Kurenai-san
[~950 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
Location : Twilight on the streets of Konoha, Near Kurenai's apartment.
The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the village rooftops as Kurenai adjusted her haori, sweat glistening lightly on her brow from the Genjutsu training.
Izumi had gone inside already, proudly clutching her notes and humming cheerfully. Haruki grabbed his short cloak and turned to Kurenai.
"I'll walk you home, Kurenai-san."
Kurenai raised an eyebrow, amused.
"That's sweet, but I think I can manage, Haruki. We're ninja, remember? There's no such thing as safety for us."
Haruki offered a lopsided smirk, arms crossed casually.
"True. But I'd still like you to live a few days longer. You're my sister's first Genjutsu teacher. Can't have her getting traumatized because something happened to you."
Kurenai chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned toward the village path.
"Alright, alright. If it's for Izumi."
They walked side by side through the Konoha streets, shadows growing long, the sounds of cicadas humming in the trees overhead.
Despite the earlier tension in the air—the clan's troubles, the ANBU's eyes—it felt oddly peaceful now.
Reaching her apartment complex nestled in a quieter district not far from the Hokage Monument, Kurenai paused at the door, key in hand. The air carried the scent of sakura trees and warm earth.
She turned slightly, hesitating for just a moment before asking,
"Would you… like to come in for a cup of coffee? It's not much, but…"
Haruki opened his mouth to politely decline, but she interrupted with a sly smile.
"I insist."
"Alright then. You win."
She unlocked the door and led him inside.
What met him was… unexpected. The interior of her home was the opposite of the typical Jōnin bachelor pad. It was neat, welcoming—soft lighting, woven mats, cushions arranged perfectly around a low table, small potted plants on windowsills, and a subtle scent of lavender in the air.
"Wow." Haruki took a slow look around. "I thought I was stepping into a genjutsu illusion for a second. This is… really nice."
Kurenai let out a short laugh, closing the door behind him. Her cheeks flushed faintly as she turned toward the kitchen area.
"It's just tidy. I like order. A clear space helps with a clear mind."
"My place looks like a warzone by comparison," Haruki joked, stepping out of his sandals.
As she moved to set the kettle on the stove, Haruki's ears perked up.
Grrrrrrl...
Kurenai froze.
Haruki raised an eyebrow.
"Was that…?"
She let out an embarrassed groan, turning away from him as if to hide.
" Seems I am hungry after all that teaching. Don't make a big deal out of it."
He smirked, stepping lightly toward the kitchen counter.
"Then I'm making miso ramen."
Kurenai blinked. "What?"
"You've got the basics here—miso paste, dashi stock, scallions… even soba noodles. Sit down. Teacher's off duty now."
Despite her initial protests, Kurenai sat, watching curiously as Haruki moved through her kitchen with confident ease. He rolled up his sleeves, tied an apron she hadn't even realized he found, and began chopping, pouring, stirring—all with surprising rhythm and care.
"You cook often?" she asked, resting her chin on her palm.
"Mostly for Izumi and Dad. Someone has to." He glanced over his shoulder. "It's become kind of meditative. Stirring broth feels like sealing a scroll."
"That's… unexpectedly poetic of you."
He smirked again. "You expected brute-force Fireball jutsu and brooding silence?"
"Yes," she said flatly, then cracked a smile.
The broth simmered, rich and savory. He placed two bowls on the table, steam rising as he garnished them with soft-boiled eggs and sliced scallions.
Kurenai leaned in and took a bite.
Her eyes widened slightly. "This is really good."
"Told you," he said, settling across from her. "I've survived rogue missions. I can boil noodles."
They ate in quiet comfort, the only sounds being chopsticks clicking against ceramic and the distant rustle of leaves outside.
After a few minutes, Kurenai leaned back, satisfied.
"You're full of surprises, Haruki."
"I get that a lot," he said, sipping tea now. "It's usually followed by some kind of mission disaster though."
She chuckled and studied him for a moment longer than necessary.
"You're different from the others in your clan."
He met her gaze, serious now.
"Maybe that's a bad thing."
"No," she said softly. "Not at all."
Silence settled between them again—comfortable, warm, just shy of intimate.
Eventually, Haruki stood, stretching his arms.
"I should head back. Izumi might already be trying to practice illusions on Dad."
Kurenai walked him to the door, opening it gently.
"Thanks for the meal. And… for walking me home."
"Don't thank me yet. I might do it again tomorrow."
She smiled, her expression softer than usual, more human than Jōnin.
"Then I'll make sure to skip lunch again."
Haruki raised an eyebrow with a grin. "So I've been recruited as your personal cook now?"
"You did volunteer," she teased, brushing past him lightly as he stepped outside.
The door closed with a soft click, and Haruki walked back into the darkening street, a faint smile still lingering on his face.