Shuo Ye at Ten

Shuo Ye stood before the bathroom mirror, staring at himself in the reflection.

He was ten years old.

He had been seven the year of the massacre, and in the blink of an eye, three years had passed. Three years was not long, but it was enough to change a person from head to toe. The face in the mirror had lost its baby fat. His cheekbones had become more defined, his jaw narrower, while his black eyes still held that same unfocused look they had when he first arrived in this world three years ago.

He was half a head shorter than the others his age. Naruto had shot up last year and was now noticeably taller than him. Ino was of average height among the girls. Sasuke had started growing rapidly last autumn too, his shoulders broader than before and his back ramrod straight when he walked.

Shuo Ye hung the towel on the rack and walked out of the bathroom.

Breakfast sat on the table—convenience store rice balls and a cup of cold boiled water. He sat down, unwrapped a rice ball, and took two bites. The rice was a little hard. The quality of convenience store rice balls had been steadily declining.

After eating, he cleared the table and changed into his ninja academy uniform. It was last year's uniform, and the sleeves had become too short, exposing half his wrists. He tugged at them, but they would not stay down, so he simply let them be.

As he slung on his backpack and headed out, he glanced at the flowerpot in the corner of the hallway.

The balloon flowers had already withered. Their blossoms were gone, but the stems remained and the leaves were still green. Ino had said balloon flowers were perennials; as long as the roots did not die, they would grow again the next year—as long as winter did not freeze them to death.

He carried the flowerpot inside and set it on the windowsill. The window faced south, so it would get sunlight in winter.

Then he left.

The third-year ninja academy classroom was on the second floor. By the time Shuo Ye entered, more than half the seats were already occupied.

Naruto was sprawled over his desk, catching up on sleep. His sleeping posture had not changed at all in the past two years—his face pressed into a textbook, a string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Ino sat in the third row, chatting with several girls. When she saw Shuo Ye enter, she raised a hand and waved. Shuo Ye nodded and went to sit at his desk.

Sasuke had not arrived.

Shuo Ye opened his textbook to the page they would cover today. His gaze rested on the words without moving.

He was thinking about the timeline.

In the original plot, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura graduated in March when they were twelve. After graduating, they formed Team 7 under Kakashi's leadership. Then came the Land of Waves mission, the Chūnin Exams—

Two more years.

Two years until graduation. Two years until Kakashi. Two years until Zabuza and Haku.

Haku.

Shuo Ye's fingers paused at the edge of the textbook.

He had not thought about these things for a long time. After the massacre, he had pushed those memories of the future to the back of his mind—not because he deliberately avoided them, but because he had no energy left to think about them. Surviving, growing stronger, taking care of himself—those were the problems right in front of him. Things years away were too distant to mean anything.

But now he was ten. He was already halfway through ninja academy.

He had started thinking about those things again.

Not because he had too much free time. It was because he knew that if he did not prepare for many things before graduation, it would be too late.

"Shuo Ye."

Naruto's voice came from beside him. At some point, he had woken up and was tilting his head at him.

"What is it?"

"You're spacing out again." Naruto yawned. "You've been spacing out ever since you came in. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Liar." Naruto scooted his chair a little closer. "Every time you say 'nothing,' you're thinking about something. Last time you said 'nothing,' you ended up sitting by the Naka River all afternoon."

Shuo Ye glanced at him.

There was no intent to press the matter on Naruto's face, only simple confusion. He did not understand what Shuo Ye was thinking about, but he knew Shuo Ye was thinking.

"I was thinking about graduation," Shuo Ye said.

"Graduation?" Naruto's eyes lit up. "I've been thinking about that too! Once we graduate, we can become genin. Genin can take missions and make money, then buy a whole room full of instant ramen—"

"...Is that your life goal?"

"What's your life goal?"

Shuo Ye closed his textbook.

"To stay alive."

Naruto froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "What kind of goal is that? That's way too low!"

"Is it?"

"Of course it is!" Naruto slapped the desk. "My goal is to become Hokage! There isn't any goal bigger than being Hokage!"

Shuo Ye did not respond.

The bell rang just as Iruka entered the classroom. Naruto hurriedly sat up straight, and Shuo Ye opened his textbook.

Iruka was teaching basic hand seal techniques that day. He walked to the podium, snapped a piece of chalk in half, and drew diagrams breaking down the hand signs on the blackboard.

Shuo Ye looked at the board, but his eyes were not focused on the chalk marks.

He was thinking about something else.

Three years. In those three years, he had done three things: honed his taijutsu and shuriken skills at the training grounds, occasionally investigated the old houses in the Uchiha Clan District, and maintained a neither-close-nor-distant relationship with Naruto and Ino.

Was that enough?

Nowhere near enough.

At lunchtime, Shuo Ye sat alone on the rooftop.

He had brought two rice balls—he had bought an extra one at the convenience store that morning. It was salmon-filled, on sale, fifty yen cheaper than usual. He tore open the wrapping and ate it bite by bite. The rice was dry, and the salmon had a faint fishy taste. He chewed it all with a blank expression.

The rooftop door opened.

Ino walked in carrying a bento box. She sat beside Shuo Ye and lifted the lid. Inside were rice, fried egg, a few slices of pickled radish, and two pieces of fried chicken.

"Why are you eating convenience store food again?" Ino glanced at him. "You did yesterday too."

"It's convenient."

"Convenient—you can't even cook rice?"

"I can."

"Then why—" Ino paused, reached into her bento with her chopsticks, picked up a piece of fried chicken, and held it to Shuo Ye's mouth. "Eat."

Shuo Ye looked at the fried chicken, then at Ino.

"I have my own rice ball."

"That thing of yours isn't a rice ball. It's a compressed carbohydrate pack."

"..."

He opened his mouth and took the fried chicken. He bit into it. The coating was crisp, the meat tender, and the seasoning leaned sweet—just how Ino's family liked it.

Ino nodded in satisfaction and lowered her head to eat her own lunch.

The two sat side by side beneath the rooftop railing without speaking. The wind blew past, carrying the scent of miso soup drifting up from the cafeteria.

After a while, Ino said, "You're not in a very good mood today."

"How could you tell?"

"You usually rest for ten minutes after eating. Today, you came up here right after finishing your rice ball. Usually, no matter how bad convenience store rice balls taste, you don't frown. Today, you did."

Shuo Ye said nothing.

He had not known he frowned.

Ino did not press further. She put half of her fried egg into Shuo Ye's hand with her chopsticks. "Don't waste it. If you can't finish it, I'll have to take it home and wash the box."

Shuo Ye accepted it and ate it bite by bite.

The wind lifted his bangs. He raised a hand to press them down, his gaze falling on the field below the rooftop.

The field was empty. It was lunch break, and most students were in the classroom or cafeteria. Only one person was running on the track—Sasuke.

His black hair fluttered in the wind. He ran fast, his steps steady and breathing even. He circled the track again and again with no sign of stopping.

Shuo Ye watched for ten seconds, then looked away.

"Ino."

"Yeah?"

"Have you noticed—Sasuke has been running faster lately."

Ino followed his gaze downward, took one look, and shook her head.

"Why do you care how fast he runs? Worry about your own lunch first."

She gave him the last slice of pickled radish too.

After school, Shuo Ye did not go straight home.

He went to the training grounds behind the mountain.

Training Ground C was still the same—the ground was pitted with shuriken holes, the distant targets studded with rusted kunai. In one corner stood a tree that was more than half dead, its trunk bearing several more blade marks than it had three years ago.

Shuo Ye took six shuriken from his ninja tool pouch.

He planted his feet and raised his hand.

The six shuriken flew out in two volleys, every one landing within two centimeters of the target's center. Not perfect, but consistent.

He repeated the motion twelve times.

Then he stopped and walked to the targets, pulling out the shuriken one by one. The chill of metal traveled up from his fingertips.

Three years ago, he could only hit the bullseye from three meters away. Now, his effective range had reached fifteen meters, and he could throw while moving.

But it was nowhere near enough.

On the night of the massacre, Itachi had used the Mangekyō Sharingan to suppress all the adult ninja in the entire clan district within seconds. The Third Hokage's data report had mentioned: "During the Uchiha Massacre, there were no signs of effective resistance at the scene."

More than a dozen Sharingan users had not lasted a single move against Itachi.

Shuo Ye put the shuriken back into his ninja tool pouch and took a deep breath.

Then he closed his eyes.

He rarely did this—mobilizing chakra to stimulate his eyes.

A burning sensation spread beneath his eyelids. It was not pain. It was heat, like someone had lit a stick of incense inside his eye sockets, the incense slowly burning toward the surface of his eyeballs.

He did not open his eyes.

Three seconds later, the heat faded.

Shuo Ye opened his eyes. His pupils were their usual black, without red or tomoe.

The Sharingan did not respond.

It was not that he could not use it. He chose not to.

The Mangekyō Sharingan—the Void Flame in his right eye and Time Retrace in his left. Each eye possessed power enough to change the course of a battle. But the price was his eyesight.

He could already feel it. His right eye occasionally blurred under bright light, as though covered by a thin layer of mist. When reading, he had to bring his right eye closer than his left to see the words clearly.

It was getting worse.

Slowly, but it was getting worse.

Shuo Ye stood before the target and wiped the corner of his right eye with his sleeve.

He could not use the Mangekyō often. At least not until he found a solution.

In the original plot, Itachi had been the same—his eyesight steadily deteriorated, until he transplanted the Mangekyō Sharingan to Sasuke during the Battle at the Valley of the End.

Shuo Ye did not want to reach that point.

He turned and left the training grounds, walking down the mountain path. The setting sun lay behind the ridge, stretching his shadow long.

When he reached the middle of the mountain, he stopped.

Below was the Hidden Leaf Village. Rooftops connected in an unbroken expanse, cooking smoke rising into grayish-white lines in the dusk. Far away, the Fourth Hokage's face on Hokage Rock was rimmed with gold by the setting sun.

Two years until graduation. After graduation came the Land of Waves, then the Chūnin Exams.

Orochimaru would come.

Shuo Ye stood halfway up the mountain, watching as dusk slowly swallowed the village's outline.

He still had two years.

Two years. Enough to do some things.

He pulled a piece of candy from his pocket—a lemon-flavored hard candy given away by the convenience store. He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth.

Then he continued down the mountain.

On his way home, he passed Ino's family flower shop. The shop was already closed, but the light outside was still on, illuminating a row of potted greenery set outside. Among them was a pot of balloon flowers—not yet in bloom, with only fresh green leaves and stems.

Shuo Ye stood outside the flower shop for two seconds, then left.

By the time he returned to the Uchiha Clan District, it was completely dark.

The clan district was still the same—empty, quiet, devoid of human voices. He walked alone down the stone-paved road, his footsteps echoing through the vacant streets.

He pushed open the door to his home. The living room was pitch-black.

He did not turn on the lights, heading straight into the bedroom. On the windowsill, the silhouette of the balloon flower pot was faintly visible in the moonlight.

Shuo Ye sat beside the bed.

Then he lay down and stared at the ceiling.

Ten years old.

Two years left.

He closed his eyes. The lemon hard candy in his mouth had not yet dissolved.