Don't Provoke Me!

Early morning.

Arata Uchiha woke up at 5:30 as usual.

Dressing, washing up, organizing his ninja tools, and strapping on his weights—the sequence of actions was performed with practiced ease.

Although the low-grade Military Ration Pill obtained from daily missions no longer provided much of a boost to his current strength, he lived by a saying from his past life: even a mosquito's leg is still meat.

Moreover, having just recovered from his injuries, he needed this kind of training to help his dormant body regain its edge.

Before leaving, Arata subconsciously turned to glance at the small nest he had lived in for five years.

Even though Izumi had helped him tidy up, some traces of the recent chaos still remained.

However, none of that mattered anymore.

Improving his strength was the only thing he needed to consider first.

The morning air felt somewhat heavy.

As soon as he stepped into the commercial district, Arata drew the attention of the early-rising clansmen.

"Heh, what a despicable guy."

A clansman on duty, eating breakfast, cast a look of disgust and spoke with disdain.

In recent days, Arata's reputation had plummeted to rock bottom, especially among the younger generation of ninjas.

After all, the Uchiha clan was incredibly proud, and they found it difficult to tolerate such underhanded sneak attacks.

"Exactly. I don't know what the clan elders were thinking, allowing him to stay."

Echoing remarks followed, carrying the same sentiment.

Arata ignored them.

He let their words wash over him.

However—

"Can you two eat or not? If you can't, get lost!"

"Think about what you were doing when you were eight. You lack the talent and you don't even know how to work hard. You're already in your teens and still just a Chunin; aren't you ashamed?"

The sudden, lioness-like roar from the breakfast stall owner stunned the two members of the Military Police Force into silence.

"Arata, out early again? Want a bowl of noodles?"

She immediately switched her demeanor, calling out to the passing youth with a warmth that was a complete contrast to her previous tone.

Hearing this, Arata Uchiha's intention to slip away silently faltered. After stumbling forward a few steps, he finally came to a halt.

"Thank you, but no."

With that, he continued toward the edge of the clan grounds, though he felt much better inside.

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

"He launched a sneak attack for the sake of mere fame and profit! It's spread throughout the entire clan. Why are you still treating him like this?"

Once the sinner was out of sight, one of the scolded Military Police members spoke up again, his tone filled with resentment.

In his memory, his mother hadn't scolded him like that in a long time, especially not for the sake of an outsider who bore such a shameful reputation!

"Is that really what you think, too?"

The stall owner, having pulled back her gaze, asked slowly.

Although she possessed no chakra and could not be a ninja, as the owner of a small shop, she possessed a keen eye that many lacked.

"Yes."

Without a moment's hesitation, the man replied through gritted teeth.

His circle of peers had been cursing this incident to no end, believing that Arata had brought shame upon the Uchiha clan.

Upon receiving his answer, the woman's face darkened, and her words turned sharp with frustration:

"If you could persist for five years, rain or shine, training without interruption from dawn till dusk, I would be proud of you no matter what you became!"

"Besides, with his status and his strength over these years, has he ever fought anyone for anything?"

"I've heard your captain mention that in Arata's home, there is nothing but half a box of Military Ration Pills!"

"Would someone with that kind of dedication be obsessed with mere fame and profit?"

In her agitation, she suddenly snatched up a nearby tablecloth and began shooing the two of them away:

"Get out, get out, get out! Stop eating and go on patrol. You're making me angry just looking at you!"

"Auntie, why are you hitting me too?"

The affected ninja felt aggrieved. His morning shift lasted until noon, and in this early hour, there were hardly any breakfast stalls open.

Most importantly, he had only taken one bite.

"This is for your mother, if you're not happy about it, go back and ask her yourself. If you're hungry, eat a Military Ration Pill!"

The older woman stood with her hands on her hips, her aura imposing.

"Arata, it's been a few days since I've seen you, I've really grown unaccustomed to it. Come help Grandma carry her vegetable basket."

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

""

Walking along the morning street, Arata felt his eyes begin to redden, and his gaze couldn't help but lower; he didn't want others to see him in such a state.

"You're fifteen minutes late today."

A familiar voice reached his ears once again.

Looking up, Yashiro Uchiha was standing at the entrance of the clan grounds. His clothes had faint damp patches, suggesting he had been standing there for quite some time.

"Uncle Yashiro."

Arata greeted him respectfully.

Looking at the youth before him, Yashiro Uchiha suddenly felt a sting in his nose. The words of comfort and encouragement he had prepared all night dissipated in that instant.

The boy's sensible demeanor clearly showed he had no need for his guidance.

"Here, don't lose it again next time."

He handed over the katana he was holding.

The clan no longer allowed any resources to be supplied to Arata, but his previous ninja tools were naturally not included in that restriction.

This chakra blade was something Yashiro had spent a great deal of time fishing out of the lake.

"Thank you, Uncle Yashiro."

Gripping the familiar hilt, Arata could no longer hold back the tears in his eyes.

In a distant street corner, a figure stood silently, watching everything that had transpired along the way, though it was unclear what he was thinking.

"Halt. You are not welcome here."

A stern, righteous shout and a clear stance of refusal blocked Arata Uchiha from the clan's exclusive training grounds.

In his field of vision were three young clansmen who looked no more than a few years older than Arata; the forehead protectors tied around their heads proved they were at least genin-level ninjas.

In the past, they had never interacted.

No.

The leader seemed to be named Naiki Uchiha. He was five years older than Arata and possessed decent talent, consistently ranking in the top three of his grade at the academy. He had once challenged Arata in private, but after being beaten up, he had never approached him again.

At this moment, there was a sense of satisfaction and mockery in his eyes.

The two clansmen behind him did not speak, but the disdain on their faces was easy to discern.

Arata said nothing; he silently looked at the clansmen before him and then turned to leave.

This bit of exclusion meant nothing at all.

"Hmph, at least he has some self-awareness. But he actually thinks he can replace Itachi with just this?"

"Ridiculous."

Naiki's mocking voice came from behind.

Arata's footsteps paused, his body turned slightly, and his peripheral vision was filled with coldness. That person's name was the thing he loathed most—there was no exception.

Seeing this, Naiki Uchiha suddenly fell silent, a trace of panic surging from the bottom of his heart.

He remembered the fear of being defeated with ease, and besides, the other party had even dared to lay a hand on the clan leader's son!

However, Arata ultimately suppressed the agitation in his heart and headed toward the Konoha city district, where there were other training grounds.

But Naiki's good fortune did not extend to others.

"Yo, isn't this the genius of the Uchiha clan?"

"Why have you come to this ordinary training ground? Is the one in the clan not good enough, or are you not allowed to use it?"

The scandal of the Uchiha clan had spread throughout all of Konoha in just a few days.

And Arata had become a laughingstock for some young ninjas; after all, there were some sixth-year students who had graduated at the same time as him who had truly been annoyed by him for a long time.

Hearing this, Arata did not respond, continuing to silently throw his Shuriken.

"Hey, I'm talking to you! You're an eyesore standing here, you're affecting everyone else's training, don't you know that!"

The ignored ninja stepped closer, his words becoming increasingly hostile.

He was, at the very least, a fairly well-known figure among the genin, and he only needed to complete a few more missions to be promoted to chunin.

Arata still did not respond.

"Ha, so he was beaten into a shell by Itachi Uchiha, he can't even talk anymore."

Kazama Hajime suddenly burst into laughter, and the several companions surrounding him followed with a roar of laughter.

It was at this moment that Arata moved.

Not a single soul was there!

Not a single person saw how he had closed the distance.

The gap of several meters was crossed in an instant; the crowd only felt their vision blur before the youth they had been mocking descended upon them, effortlessly seizing Kazama Hajime by the throat and hoisting him into the air.

He did not loosen his grip in the slightest, despite the other's frantic struggling and coughing.

"Don't provoke me, understand?"

The scarlet Sharingan was incomparably ferocious.