The Uchiha Clan Assembly.
Under normal circumstances, only the higher-ranking members of the Uchiha were permitted to attend—most of whom were jōnin, carefully ranked and ordered by seniority. Regular clan members had no right to step into such gatherings. Their place was in the fields, tending crops, trading goods, delivering parcels—doing the dirty work to keep the clan running.
But once an Uchiha awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan, they were automatically considered a candidate for leadership. Resources flowed their way, missions for jōnin promotion opened, and the clan would begin grooming them for official positions within the village.
At the very least, they'd receive a captain's badge in the Konoha Military Police Force.
Since the reforms to Konoha's ranking structure—Genin, Chūnin, Tokubetsu Jōnin, Jōnin, and Elite Jōnin—key positions were reserved strictly for high-ranked shinobi. To even be considered for Jōnin promotion, one needed to complete at least one S-rank mission, maintain over a 90% mission success rate, and surpass the average mission count of shinobi in the village.
The result? Fierce infighting between clans, with only a handful of coveted promotion slots each year. To even get a chance at advancement, clans had to trade favors, share missions, and claw for scraps.
This system, masterminded by the Third Hokage, had effectively throttled the influence of the Uchiha.
Because the Uchiha Police Force's job—internal security—didn't qualify them for high-rank missions. The few Jōnin slots left to them were jealously hoarded.
Rin himself wasn't even eligible to attend this clan meeting.
But after speaking with Elder Setsuna and earning his recognition and protection, he didn't have to worry about a blade in the back. Not for now. Setsuna still held sway within certain corners of the clan.
After the conversation ended, Rin returned home.
His residence lay at the far edge of the Uchiha compound, near the forest—isolated, forgotten. His neighbor was Setsuna's eldest son, Izumi's father. Though technically the son of a former clan elder, he had been marginalized due to Setsuna's standing, relegated to this near-wilderness district.
Beyond Rin's property lay the Forest of Death. Odd animals frequently wandered through his backyard. Snakes. Insects. He'd grown numb to it.
Inside, Rin opened a hidden cellar—once a shelter built by his father, now repurposed into a small lab. Inside were concoctions prepared from his previous life's fragmented memories: penicillin, allicin, a few crude antibiotics, and medical supplies he'd bartered for coin. Now it had a new purpose.
He had all he needed to refine the ephedrine compounds.
A makeshift underground lab came together in minutes.
He retrieved the drug mixture from his shinobi pouch and began purifying it. Using his evolved analysis system, he had calculated the optimal route to trigger the Sharingan. External chemical stimulus, applied at the right moment, could induce eye awakening in those with Uchiha blood.
But the road to Mangekyō Sharingan remained shrouded in darkness.
Rin had tested the substance on himself. Ephedrine lost its effectiveness once the Sharingan reached three tomoe—virtually no response. Worse, it created dangerous dependency. Prolonged use risked mental degradation—hallucinations, paranoia, dissociation.
Junkies.
But chakra had its own stabilizing power. Rin had devised a detox method post-activation—reducing the side effects to tolerable levels. Purified, the drug caused little more than gastrointestinal upset for a day or two. Internal organs were unaffected.
The mind, though—that was another matter.
After awakening his eyes, Rin noticed the signs in himself too.
Emotional dysregulation. Mood flattening. A creeping mental instability.
Not full psychosis yet, but the kind of imbalance found in bipolar disorder or the early stages of schizophrenia.
Still, that kind of cold, unfeeling mental state made him a better researcher. Less distracted by failure. More focused. More brutal.
He stared at the vial of refined ephedrine, then stood.
Time to test it.
He left his home and headed for the Ninja Academy to find the boy Setsuna had mentioned—the grandson of another elder.
The academy was on the village's edge, flanked by open grassland. In time, once the war ended, that land would be developed into bustling streets. For now, it was quiet.
The Uchiha compound still sat near the center of the village. Despite living on the edge of that compound, Rin's house was prime real estate—some of the most valuable land in Konoha. Rich or not, no outsider could buy a home there.
Such was the legacy of the Uchiha.
The boy's name was Uchiha Amakumo, a student at the Academy.
Rin waited on the road connecting the school to the clan compound—an unavoidable route. Sure enough, Amakumo passed by.
"Uchiha Amakumo?"
The boy's features were sharp, symmetrical. He was around eight years old, lean but well-proportioned. His manner was restrained, controlled. Already possessed chakra reserves on par with a Genin.
"Who are you?" Amakumo asked warily.
"I need your help with an experiment," Rin said bluntly.
Amakumo narrowed his eyes, about to decline—until he saw Rin's eyes.
Three tomoe, gleaming red.
Instantly, he went still.
"Drink it," Rin said, holding out the vial of purified serum.
"What is it?" Amakumo asked, staring at the greenish liquid inside the tiny glass bottle.
He recognized Rin—Konoha's only Uchiha medic, orphaned, older brother in the Police Force, known for being another naive dove.
Word of Rin's wanted status hadn't yet spread within the clan. Amakumo was unaware.
"It'll awaken your Sharingan," Rin said. "It has side effects. Might even kill you."
He exaggerated on purpose, trying to rattle the boy—see if his resolve wavered.
Amakumo didn't flinch.
He popped the cap, lifted the vial to his lips, and drank every drop without hesitation.
"I want to awaken my eyes.
What's death compared to that?"