That Uchiha

Year 41 of the Hidden Leaf, late autumn.

The chill had already seeped into every corner of the Hidden Leaf Village. At the edge of the Uchiha Clan District, inside a somewhat lonely-looking residence, six-year-old Uchiha Narong stood facing an old bronze mirror.

The boy in the mirror had the Uchiha clan's signature black hair and black eyes. His features were delicate, yet he carried a calmness that did not match his age. Only he himself knew that inside this young body was a panicked, bewildered soul from another world.

It had already been three days since he transmigrated here. The violent headache and chaotic fragments of memory had finally settled. He accepted reality: he had become Uchiha Narong, an Uchiha orphan whose parents had just both died on a mission.

And it was in the instant when the original body learned the terrible news and emotionally collapsed that these eyes had begun to change.

With a slight thought from Narong, the pitch-black pupils in the mirror abruptly turned scarlet. One tomoe slowly emerged, rotating coldly around the pupil.

One-tomoe Sharingan.

This was proof of the potential the original body had awakened under extreme grief, and it had also become the inheritance that came with his transmigration.

"Seriously... starting on hard mode right away. There's still some time." Narong muttered to himself, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, his pupils had returned to black.

The urgent press of time coiled around his heart like a cold venomous snake. The timeline was terrifyingly clear. It was now Year 41 of the Hidden Leaf. There were still six years before the Third Shinobi World War fully broke out, and only a little more than ten years remained before that Night of the Uchiha Massacre, when blood would run like rivers.

His parents had both been chunin. The death benefits they left behind and this house were his only resources. There were also a few ninjutsu scrolls, while that genius of his cohort, Hatake Kakashi, still had not graduated and simply was not in the same class as him, already leaving the name "genius" far behind. As for that other future peak of taijutsu, Might Guy, perhaps he was currently training like a madman in some corner.

"I have to survive." His intense will to live overwhelmed his confusion. He quickly set the most important rule of action for himself: develop quietly, hide his strength, and absolutely do not draw the premature attention of the Hidden Leaf Leadership—especially Shimura Danzo—and the Uchiha clan's radicals.

The one-tomoe Sharingan was a trump card. He absolutely could not show it lightly. The Uchiha clan's position in the village was delicate. Displaying talent too early would either get him treated as a tool by the clan or as a threat by the village. No matter which it was, in the coming war and purge, it would be a dead end.

Early the next morning, Uchiha Narong changed into the dark-blue uniform of the Ninja Academy, slung his schoolbag over his back, and walked calmly out of the house. He deliberately imitated the demeanor most Uchiha children had in his memories—chin lifted slightly, eyes carrying a faint, hard-to-detect distance and pride, as if constantly remembering the "glory of the clan."

This was the best camouflage. A boy whose temperament became even more withdrawn after both his parents died, fitting the Uchiha stereotype, would not attract too much extra attention.

On the road to school, he could feel the gazes of some clan members falling on him. There was pity, scrutiny, and perhaps even a trace of disdain over whether an orphan was worthy of the Uchiha name. Narong accepted it all calmly, his heart undisturbed. His current goal was not to fight for a moment's pride.

When he entered the classroom, the noise paused slightly. Several gazes fell on him, then quickly moved away. He walked straight to his window seat and sat down. His gaze looked unfocused, but in truth, he was quietly scanning the entire class.

The fellow from the Inuzuka Clan was fooling around with his ninja dog, the boy from the Aburame Clan sat silently in the corner, the one from the Akimichi Clan was secretly eating snacks... These were all future pillars of the major clans of the Hidden Leaf. According to the original personality of "Uchiha Narong," he would probably have looked down on these "non-Uchiha" classmates.

But now, Narong's thoughts were already different: People with strength deserve recognition. These clans' secret techniques will all be greatly useful on future battlefields. But right now, it's not time to make contact. There will be plenty of chances once teams are assigned later.

"Hey, Narong!" A slightly provocative voice rang out. Narong looked up. It was a boy in class who was usually rather active, seemingly trying to use the matter of him being an "orphan" to make his presence felt. "I heard your parents... Hmph, looks like the Uchiha aren't anything special after all."

If it had been the original Narong, he probably would have glared in fury, perhaps even attacked. But now, Narong only swept a faint glance over the other boy with those black eyes. There was no anger in that gaze, only a condescending coldness, as if he were looking at a clown making a fool of himself.

"Clown." He softly spat out the two words, then turned his head to look out the window, completely ignoring him. He would settle it during practical combat class. Small fry like this could be dealt with casually.

This contempt that came from his very bones was more humiliating than an intense rebuttal. The boy's face flushed red, but under the invisible aura Narong gave off, he shut his mouth resentfully.

The surrounding classmates also withdrew their gazes, thinking to themselves: As expected of an Uchiha, still that arrogant.

That was exactly the effect Narong wanted. Maintaining the persona of a "cold, aloof Uchiha" could save him a lot of trouble.

The morning was theory class, teaching the Will of Fire and all kinds of ninjutsu theory. Narong listened absentmindedly. He had long since mastered this knowledge. Most of his energy was spent on the fine control of the chakra inside his body.

Relying on the internal insight brought by the one-tomoe Sharingan, he could carry out the most basic chakra control practice without drawing anyone's attention—making chakra rotate and compress at different flow speeds in his fingertips.

"Chakra is the root, taijutsu is the foundation." He recalled the plot he had seen. "No matter how strong the Sharingan is, without enough chakra and physical stamina to support it, it's a tree without roots. Kakashi is the lesson right in front of me."

The afternoon was practical combat training class, held at the school's training field.

The chunin teacher leading them announced that today they would practice shuriken throwing and basic taijutsu sparring.

When it was Narong's turn, he walked up to the target and took out three shuriken from his ninja tool pouch. He did not use the Sharingan. He relied only on the muscle memory this body already had and the stronger mental control he possessed after transmigrating. With a flick of his wrist—

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"

The three shuriken flew out in a triangular formation and accurately struck the bull's-eye, but the score was only good, not the best. He deliberately controlled the force and angle, keeping himself at the level of "excellent but not astonishing." Among a group of clan children, he did not stand out at all.

"Mm, not bad. The Uchiha's fundamentals are very solid." The chunin teacher nodded, but was not too surprised. It was only natural for Uchiha shurikenjutsu to be famous.

Next came taijutsu sparring practice. Narong's opponent happened to be the civilian boy who had provoked him in the morning.

"Hmph, I won't let you act so cocky this time!" The boy formed the confrontation seal, then charged impatiently, his movements reckless and full of openings.

Even without using the Sharingan, Narong could see that this attack had no method whatsoever. He could even predict the boy's next movement and shift in center of gravity.

But he could not show too much so easily. Narong merely sidestepped casually to dodge, then used a move from basic taijutsu, "collapsing fist," with just the right amount of force, striking the outside of the other boy's arm and causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Throughout the entire process, he acted like an Uchiha whose basics were solid and whose eyes had not awakened, an excellent Uchiha student who lacked real combat experience and decisiveness.

"Winner, Uchiha Narong!" the teacher announced.

Narong calmly formed the release seal. He did not look at his opponent's unwilling gaze and silently returned to the line. He could feel several gazes lingering on him for a moment. They were those clan children. Among them, a Byakugan boy from the Hyuga Branch Family seemed to keep his gaze on him for an extra second.

"That kid from the Hyuga family... The Byakugan can see through chakra flow, but at his age, while I need to hide the Sharingan, that doesn't mean just any small fry can bully me. The Uchiha persona can't collapse. I may not be a genius, but I still have to perform well." Narong was wary inside, but his expression gave nothing away.

Training class ended, and the school bell rang.

The students left in groups of twos and threes. Narong was still alone, walking back along his fixed route. When he passed the Third Training Ground at the edge of the village, he heard violent panting and heavy impacts.

His steps paused slightly, and his gaze followed the sound.

He saw a thick-browed boy in a green bodysuit with a bowl-cut hairstyle running madly around the training ground, sweat already soaking through his clothes. After finishing his run, he began facing a wooden stake, practicing the most basic straight punches and side kicks again and again. His movements were so standard they were almost rigid, and his eyes were filled with a nearly stubborn passion.

Might Guy.

Narong recognized him. The future Blue Beast of the Hidden Leaf, the pinnacle of taijutsu.

Looking at Guy's effort, pure to the extreme, a ripple stirred in Narong's heart. This was true "strength" worthy of recognition. It had nothing to do with bloodline and came from will.

As if unconsciously, he stopped walking and stood at the edge of the training ground, quietly watching.

Guy also noticed this peer in Uchiha clan clothes, with a cold look in his eyes. He stopped moving, wiped away his sweat, and revealed a smile so brilliant it was almost excessive. He raised a thumb, his white teeth seeming to sparkle. "Yo! Uchiha Narong! Are you here for extra training too? Youth is effort that never stops!"

Narong was slightly startled. According to the persona he was maintaining, he should have let out a cold snort right now and turned away.

He saw Guy's smile, completely free of shadow, and thought of the cruel war and the Night of the Uchiha Massacre in the future, thought of his own deeply hidden secret and heavy pressure. An indescribable emotion welled up in his heart.

His face still showed little expression. He only replied faintly with three words:

"Mm. Keep going."

After speaking, he did not linger any longer. He turned and continued walking toward the clan district.

Might Guy watched Narong's departing back and scratched his head, somewhat puzzled that this very cold-looking Uchiha classmate would actually respond to him. But he quickly threw that confusion to the back of his mind and threw himself back into his mad training, shouting, "Oss! This is youth!"

Uchiha Narong, who had already walked far away, tugged the corner of his mouth upward by an almost imperceptible amount, but very quickly returned to his usual coldness.

Contact with Guy required extreme caution. He could not be too impatient. But today counted as a beginning.

After returning to the silent house, he closed the door, cutting off everything outside. The "cold, aloof" mask on Uchiha Narong's face instantly fell away, replaced by fatigue and solemnity that did not match his age.

He walked to the window and looked at the gradually sinking sunset outside. The afterglow shone on the Uchiha fan clan emblem, making it look somewhat glaring.

The war six years later, the massacre fourteen years later... Time was like a sharp sword hanging over his head.

But he had already taken the first step. Hide, observe, plan.

"Survive, and survive well," he told himself.