Besides, looking on the bright side, the title might have been a little tacky, but at least it accurately summed up his defining traits and clearly identified his allegiance.
In the shinobi world, having a resounding title was itself a symbol of strength and status.
Even if that title was "Black Crow," which he despised.
"Forget it. Once I get stronger, maybe I can change it."
Uchiha Makoto looked at his still-boyish face and pitch-black eyes in the mirror, then curled his lip.
"Once I awaken the Mangekyo, or raise Moyu to his complete form, let's see who still dares call me Black Crow... At least make it 'Crow Emperor' or 'Crow God,' right?"
He sighed and resigned himself to his freshly minted title, steeped in Sunagakure's peculiar brand of humor.
Konoha Black Crow.
Fine, you win, everyone in Sunagakure.
Uchiha Makoto casually tossed the kunai he had been about to use for shuriken practice. It embedded itself dead center in a target ten meters away.
"But if I find out who came up with this title..."
He narrowed his eyes and flashed a "friendly" smile.
"The next time I go 'stock up' in the Land of Wind, I'll have to 'thank' him properly."
At the secret training ground on Konoha's Back Mountain, the setting sun painted the woods a warm golden red.
Uchiha Makoto leaned against a large tree with his arms folded, watching the three figures sweating away in front of him as he silently assessed how his "crops" were growing.
That brat Obito had barely trained for half an hour that afternoon before he started slacking off, either complaining that he was tired or announcing that he needed the bathroom. It was obvious he wanted to make a getaway.
Uchiha Makoto hadn't wasted words. When Obito tried