Mockery from the Uchiha

To Kyohaku, his days at the Ninja Academy were like a carefully choreographed pantomime. He perfectly played the role of a quiet child made introverted, even somewhat withdrawn, by physical disability and family misfortune. In academic classes, he displayed moderate diligence and fairly decent comprehension. Neither outstanding nor lagging behind, he remained steadily in the middle of the class, utterly unremarkable. During theoretical lectures, he always kept his head lowered, seemingly listening attentively, while in truth he was constantly reviewing and deepening the knowledge he had gained from his father's notes and the library.

The real challenge came from practical classes.

On the training grounds, the other children underwent the most basic physical training—running, jumping, and formation drills. Kyohaku, meanwhile, could only lean on his crutch and perform extremely limited adaptive exercises assigned by the teacher. Every time he moved, the discomfort in his right foot was plain to see. He always chose the farthest corner, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Yet the Uchiha crest was far too conspicuous, like a lamp in the darkness drawing moths. Even though he deliberately kept a low profile, the "pride" and "specialness" born of his bloodline still made it impossible for the other children of his clan to ignore his "abnormality."

At first, there were only whispered comments and strange looks. Gradually, certain voices grew clearer and more grating.

One afternoon, they were practicing basic shuriken throwing. The children took turns tossing wooden practice shuriken at targets a short distance away. Kyohaku was required to participate as well. Supporting himself with his crutch, he struggled to balance on one leg before awkwardly throwing a shuriken with his left hand—his dominant hand. It lacked force and flew crookedly. The shuriken struck the edge of the wooden target limply, then bounced to the ground.

Several muffled snickers rose from the line.

One voice was especially loud, filled with undisguised contempt. "Hey, cripple, why are you even practicing shuriken throwing? You can't throw as far as my grandma!"

Kyohaku raised his head and saw that the speaker was a black-haired boy who was notably sturdier than the others his age. He had spiky hair, thick eyebrows, and the arrogant expression common among Uchiha children—a mixture of talent and clan-born superiority. Kyohaku remembered his name: Uchiha Steel Mountain, the son of some minor clan leader.

A taller, thinner boy beside him, his eyes equally critical, chimed in. He was Uchiha Dai Yi, and his family seemed close to Steel Mountain's. "Exactly. Wouldn't it be better to stay home obediently? Why come to school just to disgrace us Uchiha? My dad said it already—someone like you shouldn't be a ninja. Just settle down and be an ordinary person!"

Those words struck with the precision of cold stones. Children from the surrounding classes looked over curiously, their gazes holding curiosity, sympathy, and detached indifference. Most of the non-Uchiha children remained silent. It was an internal Uchiha matter, and they neither could nor wanted to interfere.

Teacher Mizuno immediately spoke up to stop them. "Steel Mountain, Dai Yi! You are not allowed to speak to your classmate like that! Everyone has their own pace. Kyohaku is working hard to adapt!"

Uchiha Steel Mountain curled his lip, clearly unconvinced, but he did not raise his voice again. He merely muttered to Dai Yi, "Was I wrong? What can a cripple do? He's an eyesore just standing there..."

Dai Yi snickered in agreement, and the mockery in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.

Kyohaku silently lowered his head, picked up the fallen shuriken, and leaned on his crutch as he slowly made his way back to the end of the line. There was no expression on his face—neither an angry retort nor tears of grievance, only silent indifference, as though those hurtful words were merely wind passing by his ears.

Yet deep within his lowered eyes, the cold flame belonging to another soul burned quietly.

Uchiha Steel Mountain: reckless personality, strong desire to show off, deeply influenced by his family's values. A typical bearer of Uchiha arrogance. His ability should rank among the upper tier of his peers. Need to watch for his provocations escalating.

Uchiha Dai Yi: the type to follow along, with Steel Mountain as his leader. Also lacks empathy and likes to gain a sense of superiority by putting others down.

Most of the other students remained silent and watched. A few showed faint sympathy in their eyes, but no one spoke up to stop it. This confirms the Uchiha clan's general indifference toward the weak.

His mind was like a precision instrument, calmly recording and analyzing everything, instantly turning this humiliation into material for intelligence processing. Anger? Grievance? Those emotions belonged to a real five-year-old, not to him. He only found it laughable. A group of brats blinded by clan glory and immersed in a false sense of superiority had no idea what kind of soul, one that had experienced a truly cruel world, lay hidden within the body of the person they mocked.

This level of verbal attack did not even count as harassment to him. It was merely noise. If anything, it provided him with an excellent sample for observing the thought patterns and internal atmosphere of the Uchiha's next generation.

In the days that followed, similar scenes occurred from time to time. During physical training and group exercises, Uchiha Steel Mountain and Dai Yi always found chances to mock him with all manner of childish yet hurtful remarks: "holding everyone back," "disgracing the Uchiha," and "might as well go home and lie down."

Kyohaku always responded with silence. Occasionally, when a teacher's gaze swept over him, he would reveal just the right hint of age-appropriate embarrassment and retreat, perfectly playing the role of a pitiful child being bullied. This submissive appearance seemed to bore Steel Mountain and Dai Yi, and the frequency of their taunts gradually decreased. Yet the undisguised contempt in their eyes never vanished.

Uchiha Kyohaku, the crippled orphan they believed was "unfit to be a ninja," continued his school life amid silent mockery and isolation. Like a silent reef, he let the tides of discrimination crash against him without budging. All his attention remained focused on absorbing knowledge, observing his surroundings, and... using every spare moment for a more secretive form of training known only to himself.

To him, those taunts were nothing more than background noise. They even became the best cover for his perfect disguise. No one would stay wary of a universally acknowledged "piece of trash."