Autumn, year 6 of Konoha.
A chill rode the wind as it swept across both banks of the Naka River, turning the last green leaves on the treetops yellow, curling their edges, and sending them fluttering down. Yet the indefinable atmosphere in the Uchiha Clan Compound was more restless than the autumn wind.
The details of the elite policy had finally been announced.
The notice was posted on the most prominent wall in the compound's central assembly square, black ink on white paper, stamped with the seals of all six Core Elders. People crowded around it in layers, heads jostling, their murmurs like swarms of gnats before a summer downpour, hanging low overhead.
"...Anyone aged six to twelve may register for selection..."
"...The assessment consists of three rounds: taijutsu fundamentals, chakra control, and simulated combat..."
"...The top one hundred candidates will be selected as 'Elite Seeds,' receiving preferential access to clan resources and dedicated instruction..."
The writing was neat, the reasoning beautifully presented. But the faces at the front of the crowd, craning their necks to read it word by word, grew increasingly complicated.
Some half-grown boys' eyes suddenly lit up, their fists quietly clenching-they thought they had a chance.
Some middle-aged people frowned, their lips pressed into thin lines-their children had only just reached the qualifying age, and they were weighing their chances.
More often, people finished reading, their eyes first warming with hope, then slowly cooling, until at last they let out an almost inaudible sigh and squeezed out of the crowd, their retreating backs slightly stooped-they had understood the weight behind "selection by merit" and knew their children would probably have no share in it.
The news seemed to grow legs. In half a day, it had raced through every corner of the compound.
That evening, Uchiha Ning carried a small bamboo basket of freshly steamed, still-warm red bean buns through the darkening alleys, her steps somewhat hurried, and knocked on the side door of Elder Xuan's residence.
Liuli opened the door. She showed little surprise at seeing Uchiha Ning and stepped aside. "Mrs. Ning, come in. Yinglang is in the back courtyard."
"Yes, all right, all right." Uchiha Ning answered repeatedly and followed Liuli inside. As they passed through the corridor, she could not help lowering her voice to ask, "Miss Liuli, about... that elite policy. Has Yinglang..."
"Father has spoken to him." Liuli's voice was calm, her steps never stopping. "You can ask him about the details."
Beside the training ground in the back courtyard, Yinglang had just finished a set of stretches and was wiping his sweat with a towel. Seeing his mother, he jogged over. "Mom, what brings you here?"
"I brought you something to eat." Uchiha Ning pushed the bamboo basket into her son's hands, then hastily tugged his sleeve and led him toward a stone stool in a nearby corner. "Langlang, sit down. I need to ask you something."
Yinglang let her press him into a seat, lifted the cloth covering the basket, and took a bite of a red bean bun. The filling was sweet and soft, still steaming. "Mm, go ahead, Mom."
Uchiha Ning sat beside him, her hands on her knees, unconsciously rubbing the corner of her clothes. Her voice was very low, carrying an anxiety she could not hide. "I heard... the clan is introducing some elite policy! Everyone's talking about it! What about you? Elder Xuan... he hasn't asked you to take that assessment, has he?"
While washing clothes by the well that morning, she had listened to the woman next door chatter for ages about "selection," "one hundred places," and "preferential resources," and it had made her uneasy. Her son had caught Elder Xuan's eye, but his foundation was still weak. If he really had to compete against the elders' children, who had long since built solid foundations... she dared not think any further.
Yinglang chewed his bun and swallowed before saying, "Mom, don't worry. I... count as a beneficiary too."
"Huh?" Uchiha Ning froze.
"Elder Xuan opposes this policy." Yinglang lowered his voice too, so only the two of them could hear. "But he's still a Core Elder. If the policy really goes ahead, he'll receive a few 'elite' places. Naturally... I'll take one."
Uchiha Ning's eyes widened a little, and she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. But before she could fully relax, her anxiety rose again. "But I heard... you have to earn those places through the assessment! You have to compete for real! Langlang, you may be studying under Elder Xuan, but it hasn't been long. Those elders' children..."
"Mom." Yinglang interrupted her, leaning closer until he was almost speaking into her ear, his voice as soft as a sigh. "What you heard are the 'rules' the Uchiha leadership wants ordinary clan members to know."
Uchiha Ning went still.
"Being an elite... is a contest of backgrounds." Yinglang looked at her, a clarity in his five-year-old eyes that made her heart tremble. "Hard work, talent... those are just admission tickets... and only some of them!"
He paused, as though searching for a plainer way to put it. "For example, Mom. Suppose one part of the assessment is an essay titled 'My Father.' Yuanguang Uchiha's son, Kagami Uchiha, picks up his brush and writes 'My Father, the Elder,' with brilliant prose and heartfelt emotion. If you were the examiner, would you give him full marks?"
Uchiha Ning opened her mouth but made no sound.
"To put it even more plainly," Yinglang continued, his voice even calmer, as though counting beans, "there are one hundred places. Six Core Elders reserve three each right off the bat. That's eighteen. Seventeen ordinary elders take one each. That's another seventeen. Altogether, thirty-five are gone. Only the remaining sixty-five are released for the people below to fight tooth and nail over."
Watching his mother's face grow paler, he continued, "Even those sixty-five aren't decided entirely by ability. Some have to be set aside first for ordinary clan members with 'exceptional talent' and 'outstanding reputations,' to put on a show of fairness. But here's the problem! Mom, in the Uchiha clan, if an ordinary clan member's child has to have talent so 'exceptional' and a reputation so 'outstanding' that every elder agrees... is he still an 'ordinary clan member'?"
Uchiha Ning's fingers were ice-cold as she clutched the corner of her clothes. She seemed to understand, yet also seemed to wish she had not. The setting sun stretched the old pine's shadow across the courtyard, its darkness pressing toward her.
"So," Yinglang concluded, brushing the crumbs from his hands, "I don't need to take the assessment. Elder Xuan will give me my place directly. Not because I'm so much stronger than everyone else, but because Elder Xuan sits right here in this courtyard."
After that, he quietly finished the remaining half of his red bean bun. The cloying sweetness still coated his throat, yet it felt thick and difficult to swallow.
Uchiha Ning sat blankly for a long while before seeming to recover, letting out a long, trembling breath. It carried exhaustion, along with a certain bleak resignation. She raised her hand and stroked her son's head very gently.
"I understand." Her voice was hoarse. "Then... study hard under Elder Xuan. Don't let him down."
"Mm." Yinglang nodded, covered the bamboo basket, and handed it back to his mother. "Mom, I've already told you plenty. Keep these things to yourself. Don't tell anyone else."
"I know what matters." Uchiha Ning took the basket, stood, and straightened her clothes. After two steps, she looked back. She hesitated, but still asked, "Langlang, you just said... Elder Xuan will receive a few places. You're taking one, so... what about the rest?"
Yinglang looked up at his mother. The sunset gilded his lashes, but his eyes were clear and cool.
"Mom," he said, "go get Yutian. Tomorrow, at this same time, have him wait for me at the side door. I... have an empty place."
Yutian came the following evening.
He still wore those old clothes washed pale, his hands and feet clean. He stood in the shadows outside Elder Xuan's side door, his back perfectly straight and his gaze steady. He did not look around, only waited quietly. Only when Yinglang pushed the door open did he bow slightly. "Young Master Yinglang."
"Come in, Yutian." Yinglang stepped aside to let him in. Rather than taking him to the main house or the training ground, he led him around to the stone stools beneath the old pine in the back courtyard. "Sit."
Yutian did not sit. He remained standing, looking calmly at Yinglang.
Yinglang did not insist. He sat on a stone stool himself and got straight to the point. "You've heard about the clan's elite policy, haven't you?"
"I have." Yutian nodded, his tone unruffled.
"One hundred places, with everyone fighting over them." Yinglang looked at him. "At your age, you ought to compete for one."
The corner of Yutian's mouth moved almost imperceptibly. It did not look like a smile, but rather as though he had long since seen through something. "My father is a servant. I don't have the Sharingan, and my chakra reserves are ordinary. My surname isn't even Uchiha. I... can't compete."
He said it so calmly that Yinglang gave him another couple of looks.
"What if," Yinglang slowed his words, "I gave you a place?"
Yutian abruptly raised his eyes. For the first time, unmistakable shock appeared in those ever-steady, ever-quiet eyes. But he did not speak immediately. He merely pressed his lips together, the fingers of his hands at his sides curling almost imperceptibly.
"Elder Xuan has a few places. I have one of them." Yinglang continued, his voice quiet but every word clear. "Another is vacant for now. I can tell Elder Xuan that I think highly of you, that you're steady, can endure hardship, and have potential. That place will be yours. I can apply for resources for you too. As for your surname? You'll soon be called Uchiha Yutian."
The shadows of pine needles swayed between them.
Only after a long while did Yutian speak, his voice a little dry. "Why?"
"Two reasons." Yinglang held up two fingers. "First, back then, at the edge of the compound, whenever I 'accidentally' dropped pebbles, you always picked them up, wiped them clean, and returned them to me. I remember."
Something shifted in Yutian's eyes.
"Second," Yinglang lowered his hand and looked him in the eye, "I need someone of my own. Someone whose background I know, who knows when to advance and retreat, and whom I can count on when it matters. Yutian, I think you're suitable."
The words were so blunt that they hardly sounded like something a five-year-old should say. Yet Yutian showed no surprise as he listened, only a heavy understanding. He was silent for a long time, until the sun had almost completely set and Liuli lit the lanterns beneath the corridor, spreading a hazy glow.
"If I accept this place," he finally said, each word seemingly weighed, "what do I have to do?"
"First, become strong," Yinglang said. "Use the resources that come with an elite place and train like your life depends on it. Don't embarrass me. Second, I'll tell you what you need to know. Don't ask about what you shouldn't know. Third, if I need you to do something in the future, you must do it."
It was fair, and harsh. It was almost putting an explicit price on his future loyalty and freedom in exchange for a chance to change his fate now.
Yutian lowered his head and looked at his rough palms, bearing traces of labor that would not wash away. Then he raised his head, looked at Yinglang, and nodded very slowly, very solemnly.
"All right."
No sworn vows, no tears of gratitude. Just those words.
Yinglang smiled, a little genuine pleasure in his expression. "Tomorrow, I'll speak to Elder Xuan. After that, someone will arrange a simple test for you, just a formality. Then you'll move into the Elite Seed dormitory prepared by the Clan Academy and begin training."
"Yes," Yutian answered. He paused, then asked, "Do I need to address you differently? From now on... what should I call you?"
"In public, Young Master Yinglang. In private, Yinglang." Yinglang stood and patted his arm. "Go on. Go home and tell your father. The road ahead will be different."
Yutian looked at him once more, bent deeply at the waist in a bow, then turned and walked silently toward the side door. In the deepening dusk, his back was still straight, yet something seemed to have grown from within it, making it a little firmer.
Yinglang stood beneath the pine, watching his figure disappear through the door.
The autumn wind passed through the courtyard, carrying a chill. He looked up at the night sky, where a scattering of stars was beginning to appear.
The piece had been placed.
Only heaven knew what the future held.
Of course, our future selves knew too.
Before you continue