Don't Mess With Me!

It was early morning.

Arata still woke up at 5:30.

He got dressed, washed up, organized his ninja tools, and strapped on his weights. The familiar routine came naturally to him.

The low-grade pills he'd earned from daily missions no longer made much of a difference to his strength. But as an old saying from his previous life went, even a tiny piece of meat was still meat.

Besides, after recovering from his injuries, he needed this training to help his dormant body find its rhythm again.

Before leaving, Arata turned around almost unconsciously and glanced at the little home where he'd lived for five years.

Izumi had helped him tidy up, but traces of the mess remained.

Still, none of that mattered anymore.

Improving his strength was what he needed to focus on first.

The morning air felt heavy.

As soon as Arata stepped into the shopping district, he caught the attention of the early-rising clan members.

"Ugh, what a despicable guy."

A clan member on duty, eating breakfast, shot him a scornful look and sneered.

These past few days, Arata's reputation had fallen to rock bottom, especially among the younger generation of ninja.

After all, the Uchiha Clan was proud, and its members could hardly tolerate such a sneak attack.

"Exactly. I wonder what the clan elders were thinking, letting him stay."

Others echoed the sentiment.

Arata ignored them.

He let their words fall on him without a response.

But—

"If you two aren't going to eat, get lost!"

"Think about what you were doing at eight. You're not talented, but you don't even work hard. You're in your teens and still a Chunin. Aren't you ashamed?"

The breakfast stall owner's sudden scolding rang out like a lion's roar, leaving the two members of the Military Police Force stunned.

"Arata, you're up early again. Want a bowl of noodles?"

Then she immediately changed her tune and called out warmly to the boy passing by. Her attitude was a complete contrast to the way she'd spoken before.

At her words, Arata's attempt to slip away without a sound faltered. He hurried forward a few steps, then finally stopped.

"Thanks, but no."

With that, he resumed walking toward the edge of the clan grounds. Somehow, though, he felt a little better.

"Mom, do you really not know what he did when he sparred with Itachi?"

"Backstabbing him for a little fame!"

"The whole clan's talking about it. How can you still treat him like that?"

Only after the supposed sinner was out of sight did one of the Military Police Force members who'd been scolded speak again, his voice full of resentment.

He couldn't remember the last time his mother had scolded him like that, especially over an outsider carrying such a stain.

"Is that really what you think?"

The stall owner turned her gaze back and asked quietly.

She had no chakra and could never become a ninja, but as the owner of a small shop, she had an eye for people that many others lacked.

"Yes."

The man answered through clenched teeth, without a moment's hesitation.

Their whole circle of friends had been cursing Arata over this, saying he'd disgraced the Uchiha Clan.

The woman's expression darkened at his reply, and her voice took on a note of stern disappointment.

"If you could train for five years without ever stopping, rain or shine, from morning till night, then I'd be proud of you no matter what you became!"

"Besides, all these years, what has he ever fought anyone over, with that identity and that strength?"

"I heard your captain mention that all Arata had at home was half a box of Military Ration Pills!"

"Would someone with that kind of dedication care about a little fame?"

Growing more agitated, she suddenly snatched up the tablecloth beside her and started shooing the two of them away.

"Get out, get out! Don't eat here. Go on patrol! You're making me sick!"

"Auntie, why are you hitting me too?"

The ninja who'd been caught in the scolding looked aggrieved. The morning shift meant patrolling until noon, and at this early hour there were hardly any breakfast stalls open.

Most importantly, he'd only taken one bite.

"I'm hitting you on your mother's behalf. If you don't like it, go ask her yourself. If you're hungry, eat a Military Ration Pill!"

The stall owner stood with her hands on her hips, radiating authority.

"Arata, I haven't seen you for a few days. It's strange without you around. Come help Granny carry this basket of vegetables."

"Arata, when you have time, could you help Haru with her ninjutsu?"

As Arata walked down the morning street, his eyes grew red and he lowered his gaze. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

"You're fifteen minutes late today."

A familiar voice reached his ears once more.

He looked up. Yashiro Uchiha stood at the entrance to the clan grounds, his clothes faintly damp, as though he'd been waiting there for a long time.

"Uncle Yashiro."

Arata greeted him respectfully.

Looking at the boy before him, Yashiro Uchiha felt a pang in his nose. The comforting, encouraging words he'd spent all night preparing vanished from his mind.

The boy was so sensible that he clearly didn't need anyone to talk him through it.

"Here. Don't lose it again."

He held out the Horizontal Blade.

The clan had forbidden any further allocation of resources to Arata, but that didn't include the ninja tools he already owned.

Yashiro had fished the Chakra Blade out of the lake. It had taken him quite some time.

"Thank you, Uncle Yashiro."

As Arata gripped the familiar hilt, he could no longer hold back his tears.

Far away, at a street corner, a figure stood silently, watching everything that had happened along the way. No one could tell what he was thinking.

"Stop right there. You're not welcome here."

A stern shout and an unmistakable gesture stopped Arata outside the clan's private training ground.

Three young clan members stood in his path. They didn't look much older than Arata, and the Forehead Protectors tied around their brows showed that they were at least Genin.

They'd never interacted before.

No—

The one leading them seemed to be Naiki Uchiha. He was five years older than Arata and had decent talent, always placing among the top three in his year at the academy. He'd once challenged Arata in private, but after getting beaten, he'd never approached him again.

Now his eyes were full of glee and mockery.

The two clan members behind him said nothing, but their contempt was plain to see.

Arata didn't speak. He glanced at the clan members in front of him, then silently turned and left.

A little rejection like this was nothing.

"Hmph, at least he knows his place. But does he really think he can replace Itachi?"

"Ridiculous."

Naiki's mocking voice came from behind him.

Arata's steps paused. He turned slightly, his gaze cold from the corner of his eye. That name was the thing he hated most—there was nothing else even close.

Naiki Uchiha abruptly fell silent. A flicker of panic rose in his heart.

He remembered the terror of being effortlessly defeated before—and Arata had even dared to lay a hand on the clan leader's son!

But in the end, Arata suppressed the restlessness inside him and headed for Konoha's urban district, where there were other training grounds.

Naiki, however, wasn't the only one who'd have bad luck.

"Well, if it isn't the Uchiha Clan's genius!"

"What brings you to an ordinary training ground? Is the one in your clan no good, or are you not allowed to use it?"

The Uchiha Clan's scandal spread throughout Konoha in just a few days.

Arata became a laughingstock among some of the younger ninja. After all, a few sixth-year students who'd graduated alongside him had been holding a grudge for a long time.

Arata didn't respond. He kept silently throwing Shuriken.

"Hey, I'm talking to you. You're standing right in the way and distracting everyone. Do you know that?"

The ninja who'd been ignored moved closer, his words growing increasingly hostile.

He was a fairly well-known Genin, after all, and he only needed to complete a few more missions to be promoted to Chunin.

Arata still didn't respond.

"Ha! Itachi Uchiha must've beaten you into a stupor. You can't even talk anymore."

Kazama Hajime suddenly burst out laughing, and the several companions around him joined in.

That was when Arata moved.

He was nowhere to be seen!

Not a single person saw how he closed the distance.

In an instant, he crossed several meters. Everyone's vision blurred, and the boy they'd been mocking appeared before them, effortlessly grabbing Kazama Hajime by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

Kazama struggled and choked, but Arata didn't loosen his grip at all.

"Don't mess with me. Got it?"

His Sharingan glared, blood-red and savage.