Almost a year had passed since I first stepped into the academy classroom — a wide-eyed kid who thought "basic chakra control" would be something like learning to whistle.A year of aching muscles, endless drills, and enough mental strain to make my brain feel like a rag wrung out by a sadistic laundry maid.But it had also been a year of… progress.
The Rasengan — once a pitiful swirl of chakra that barely ruffled my hair — now packed enough force to punch clean through thick wooden boards.My genjutsu had evolved from simple "party tricks" into illusions that could make even older Uchiha kids sweat and double-check their reality.Kenjutsu? Well, let's just say the wooden practice swords at the orphanage now looked like they'd been chewed on by a deranged beaver with anger issues.
And then, a few days ago, my Sharingan decided to upgrade itself to two tomoe in each eye — without the usual dramatic, near-death trigger.One moment I was practicing kata in the orphanage yard, the next, the world clicked into sharper focus — like reality had just gone from potato-quality to full HD, no subscription required.
Naturally, the Uchiha elders summoned me immediately.
Uchiha Main Estate – Research Room
The estate's research room was warm with lamplight, every surface cluttered with scrolls, old diagrams of ocular anatomy, and the faint smell of parchment and ink.The elders sat in their usual arrangement, the air thick with the kind of formality that made you sit straighter without realizing it.
Fugaku examined me like a jeweler appraising a rare gem."Two tomoe in under a year. As expected of our hypothesis."
Setsuna nodded, normally so stone-faced he could pass for a statue, even allowed himself a faint smile. "It seems our calculations were correct. With proper chakra cultivation, the evolution is inevitable."
Rengoku, satisfaction flickering in his sharp gaze. "Impressive control for your age, Kazuki. Keep this up, and your progress may become a matter of clan security."
Yura leaned back with his usual half-bored expression."Not bad, kid. Just remember, eyes are only useful if you can back them up in a fight."
Ah, yes. Nothing says "warm congratulations" like reminding you you're still entirely mortal.
There was no lecture this time, no long-winded speech about "responsibility" or "honor." Just a final nod from Setsuna."Train harder. War may be closer than you think."
I bowed respectfully, though inside, war may be closer than you think translated neatly into: Start writing your will, kid.
Private Meeting – The Elders' Chamber
Once Kazuki was dismissed.The gate closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving the clan head and elders to move into a smaller, dimly lit chamber lined with relics of past clan heads.The atmosphere there was heavier, quieter, like the walls themselves had ears.
"This confirms it," Setsuna began, voice low. "Our theory about automatic evolution through chakra increase is proven. The boy's Sharingan is advancing without trauma. Unprecedented."
Rengoku's chair creaked as he leaned back."And that means we can treat him differently from past prodigies. No manipulation. Sincerity will serve us better."
Yura smirked."Ah, so the grand strategy is not treating him like a disposable kunai. Revolutionary thinking."
Fugaku's tone was steady, but there was weight to it."Trust is a two-way path. Give him respect, and he'll return it. Keep him at arm's length, and he'll do the same — and that would be dangerous for the clan."
Setsuna's lips twitched."Treat him well, and he treats us well. That's your brilliant idea?"
Yura chuckled."What's next, Setsuna? You going to tell us to learn art of manipulation from Hiruzen?"
That got a brief round of subdued laughter before Setsuna's voice cut back in, heavier now. "Joking aside… we can't ignore the bigger picture. The Hokage faction's hostility is growing. Isolation deepens. The Third War may push tensions to the breaking point."
Fugaku's jaw tightened."We need something — or someone — to break the deadlock before it turns into open conflict."
Yura's eyes gleamed."If Kazuki's Sharingan reaches Mangekyō, and if he can wield it without madness, he could be that deciding factor. The Hokage's faction wouldn't risk direct suppression if we had that kind of power."
Rengoku nodded once."He also has pure Yin chakra — the first in our clan. Mishandle him, and he becomes our greatest liability. Cultivate him, and he changes the balance entirely."
Fugaku's final words cut through the air like a blade."Then we guide him carefully. His progress may decide the clan's survival."
The earlier humor evaporated, leaving only the tension of war and politics.Outside, a paper lantern swayed in the night breeze, casting long shadows over their faces.
Kazuki pov
The cool air was a relief, washing away the heavy scent of old paper and elder scrutiny.Four pairs of eyes were no longer dissecting me like I was a tactical puzzle piece, replaced instead by the far more comfortable burden of my own paranoia.
So they're happy now. That's… unsettling.Usually, if they're smiling, it's because someone else's life expectancy just dropped.
My brain helpfully began compiling the Things That Might Try to Kill Me list:
Madara — possibly knows I exist, possibly doesn't. If he does, congratulations to me, I'm now a bug on a titan's radar.
Black Zetsu — sentient sludge with millennia of trust issues.
White Zetsu — sentient plant with the personality of wet cardboard but infinite infiltration skills.
Danzo — basically the human embodiment of a asshole.
Hiruzen — might be smiling at you, but already plotting your "accidental" reassignment to frontline duty.
Orochimaru — probably still more into forbidden jutsu than eating people… probably.
War — the great equalizer that kills everyone who isn't the main character.
The Third Great Ninja War wasn't a "maybe" anymore.It was coming — and if I wasn't ready, I'd just be another footnote casualty.
Still… war meant opportunity.Opportunity meant I needed to be faster, sharper, and preferably not dead.Which unfortunately meant more training.
I sighed. Guess "sleep" would just have to move even further down my to-do list.
Orphanage Training Grounds
If the elders' warning had been a spark, Kuroha had been a full-on explosion.From the next morning onward, her training regimen went from "strict" to "merciless drill sergeant who hates your face."
We woke at dawn for chakra control drills, shuriken practice, and sparring — all before breakfast.The orphans grumbled, but nobody dared slack under Kuroha's sharp-eyed watch.
I kept busy with Rasengan training — currently stuck at the "water balloon" stage.Dozens of them sat in a bucket nearby, waiting to be popped.
Azula, meanwhile, had made solid progress of her own.Her fire jutsu had grown from a flicker into a roaring arc.Her shurikenjutsu was fast, precise.And while I preferred a sword for kenjutsu, she had chosen a pair of kunai for close combat.
"A sword's too cumbersome for me," she said one morning, spinning a kunai between her fingers."I rely on flexibility. Dodging, counterattacking — a long blade would just get in my way."
I raised an eyebrow."Right, ninja ballerina. Don't stab your own foot."
Azula stood before a row of training dummies, sending a blazing arc of fire that struck with clean precision, leaving neat scorch marks.
"Observe, peasants," she declared, "this is how control looks."
I rolled a water balloon in my hand, molding chakra carefully.And this… is how irritation feels.
Pop. The balloon burst, soaking my hand and part of my sleeve.
Azula laughed."Still playing at the kiddie pool stage, I see."
I froze, slowly reached into the bucket, and lobbed a balloon at her.It landed squarely.
Her eyes narrowed."You. Are. Dead."
I ducked behind a dummy, grinning."Counter-jutsu successfully deployed."
Kuroha, watching from the porch with her tea, didn't even blink."If you're both done being idiots, we still have drills to finish."
By the time the day ended, we were sprawled on the floor mats like corpses after a small war.I leaned against the wall, spinning a kunai idly, my thoughts running dark.
War's coming. The elders basically confirmed it.And as if that wasn't enough, Madara's ghost is still somewhere in the background pulling strings through Black Zetsu.
If he knows I exist, I'm a potential threat to his plans.If he doesn't, I'm a ticking surprise.Either way — not great odds.
Azula dropped down beside me, still smelling faintly of singed cloth."When the war comes," she said suddenly, "do you think we'll be sent?"
"Depends," I said without looking at her. "If we're strong enough to be useful, then yeah.They will probably sent us even we are useless, as cannon fodder"
She was quiet for a while."Then we'd better not waste time."
I smirked faintly."Finally, something we agree on."
A Few Days Later – Back at the Uchiha Estate
This time it was just Rengoku waiting for me.His voice was steady, his expression unreadable.
"Two tomoe at your age is rare. But enemies won't care how rare you are. They'll only care how fast they can kill you."
I smirked."Your motivational speeches are unmatched."
He didn't return it."War will test everyone. The battlefield doesn't care about your potential. Only your survival matters."
I nodded once.War. Madara. Zetsu. Too many threats, not enough years before they crash together.
That night, lying in bed, the ceiling felt like a blank slate for my thoughts to scrawl across.
Does Madara know about me? About my plans?If he does, then every step I take is already part of his calculations.If he doesn't… good. Let's keep it that way.
The two tomoe spun lazily in the dark, a silent promise in my mind.When the war came — and it would — I wouldn't just be a pawn.