News that Itachi Uchiha had awakened the Sharingan at only eight years old reached the Third Hokage almost immediately.
“The Uchiha Clan… always troublesome.”
Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, his expression heavy.
In recent years, the Uchiha had become increasingly difficult to control.
Their resentment toward Konoha’s leadership was growing, and Hiruzen’s feelings toward the clan were equally conflicted.
On one hand, the Uchiha had become a political problem that could no longer be ignored.
On the other, their strength was far too valuable for Konoha to discard lightly.
The roots of the conflict stretched back to the era of the Second Hokage.
Tobirama Senju had placed the Uchiha in charge of the Konoha Military Police Force.
On the surface, it granted them authority and status.
In practice, it also placed them in the position of enforcing village law—a role that naturally created friction with ordinary civilians.
Years of arrests, disputes, and resentment had slowly widened the distance between the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha.
At the same time, the village leadership had gradually pushed the clan away from the center of political power.
By Hiruzen’s era, the Uchiha had effectively been excluded from Konoha’s highest decision-making circles.
Then came the Nine-Tails’ attack.
In its aftermath, the clan had been relocated toward the outskirts of the village.
For one of the two great clans that had founded Konoha, the humiliation was difficult to swallow.
Naturally, resistance followed.
Some of it subtle.
Some of it increasingly open.
The situation had become a constant source of frustration for the Third Hokage.
And now Fugaku Uchiha’s eldest son had awakened the Sharingan at eight.
That changed things.
Hiruzen looked down at the ANBU report on his desk.
According to the investigation, Itachi was very different from many of the Uchiha around him.
He wasn’t consumed by clan pride.
He disliked conflict.
More importantly, he seemed to value peace beyond the narrow interests of his own family.
Hiruzen’s eyes sharpened.
“Perhaps…”
An idea began taking shape.
Before long, a classified instruction left the Hokage’s office.
Evaluate Itachi Uchiha.
Potential ANBU candidate.
Elsewhere, Danzo Shimura received the same news.
His reaction was quite different.
An eight-year-old Uchiha who had already awakened the Sharingan…
Danzo’s desire for those eyes only deepened.
Whatever currents began moving beneath Konoha because of Itachi’s awakening, the Uchiha themselves were celebrating.
Fugaku Uchiha looked at his son with undisguised satisfaction.
He had recently heard plenty about the so-called genius born to the Hyuga Clan.
Now?
He almost found the comparison amusing.
“The Hyuga produced a genius?”
Fugaku’s mouth curved upward.
“Can he compare to my son?”
His mood had rarely been better.
At the Hyuga compound, Hiashi Hyuga walked across the courtyard in wooden sandals and entered a secluded training area reserved for Tenriki.
No servants.
No clan children.
No spectators.
Only Tenriki was permitted to train there.
At the moment, the three-year-old was running up the side of a tree.
His feet struck the bark in a rapid rhythm.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
He raced vertically up the trunk without slowing, then changed direction and moved along the branches as naturally as if he were running across level ground.
Hiashi watched silently.
For the Hyuga, combat strength depended heavily on the combination of taijutsu and chakra.
That made chakra control especially important.
And one of the best periods for developing that control was while a shinobi’s reserves were still relatively small.
Less chakra meant less power to manage and, in some ways, greater precision during training.
Tree climbing was one of the most fundamental exercises for developing that control.
Tenriki made it look effortless.
Not once did the chakra beneath his feet fluctuate enough to disturb his balance.
Hiashi’s expression softened slightly.
Itachi Uchiha awakened the Sharingan.
So what?
His own son was hardly inferior.
Tenriki completed another circuit before pushing away from the trunk and landing lightly on the ground.
He immediately noticed Hiashi.
“Father.”
Hiashi gave a short nod.
“The matter you warned me about—the Cloud shinobi planning to abduct someone from the main family.”
Tenriki’s attention sharpened.
“I investigated it.”
Hiashi’s voice became colder.
“The plan is real.”
Tenriki wasn’t surprised.
Then Hiashi continued.
“Their target is you.”
Tenriki blinked. This story is hosted at g.com.
“Me?”
That genuinely caught him off guard.
“Not Hinata?”
“No.”
Hiashi studied his son.
“They’ve heard about your talent. From their perspective, your Byakugan would be the more valuable prize.”
He paused.
“And they’re concerned that Hinata may eventually receive the Caged Bird Seal.”
Tenriki’s expression changed.
So that’s how it is.
In the original timeline, Kumogakure had targeted Hinata.
Now that he existed, the target had shifted.
Apparently, even at three years old, he had already begun changing history.
Kumogakure’s obsession with the Byakugan wasn’t new.
Its origins supposedly stretched all the way back to the First Shinobi World War.
At the time, one of the Hyuga Clan’s legendary ancestors, Tennin Hyuga, had been in his prime.
During the war between Konoha and the Land of Lightning, Tennin had fought the First Raikage one-on-one.
Using the Byakugan’s unique dojutsu technique—
Thousand-Eye Byakugan.
He had defeated the famously domineering First Raikage.
That battle had spread the reputation of the Byakugan across the shinobi world, and Kumogakure had coveted the Hyuga’s eyes ever since.
As for what exactly the Thousand-Eye Byakugan was…
Even Tenriki didn’t know.
It had never actually appeared in the Naruto story he remembered.
One of those wonderfully convenient pieces of lore that was mentioned—or implied—without ever being properly explained.
For all Tenriki knew, it might even have been connected to the enormous collection of Byakugan on the Moon and the power that would eventually become the Tenseigan.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
There was no point pretending he knew something the original story had never clarified.
Tenriki suddenly grinned.
“That’s even better.”
Hiashi raised an eyebrow.
“I was worried they would go after Hinata,” Tenriki continued.
“If they’re coming for me instead, that saves me the trouble.”
There was no fear in his voice.
If anything, he looked excited.
“I’ve been wanting to see how Cloud shinobi fight.”
His smile widened.
“This is a good chance to test what I’ve learned.”
Hiashi stared at him.
Most three-year-olds would have panicked after learning that enemy shinobi intended to kidnap them.
His son apparently regarded the situation as an opportunity for practical combat training.
Yet what pleased Hiashi even more was the first thing Tenriki had said.
He had been worried about Hinata.
Despite his frightening talent, Tenriki had never treated his sister as a rival for status within the clan.
If anything, he had always been protective of her.
Hiashi gave a satisfied nod.
“Then we won’t leave anything to chance.”
Tenriki looked up at him.
“For the next few days, I’ll arrange opponents for you.”
“Opponents?”
“They’ll imitate Kumogakure’s combat methods as closely as possible.”
Hiashi’s tone was firm.
“Lightning Release. Close-quarters aggression. Speed. Direct assault.”
He paused.
“If Cloud shinobi truly come for you, I want you prepared for what you’ll face.”
Tenriki smiled.
“Thank you, Father.”
The following days were brutal.
One of the Hyuga elders personally took responsibility for Tenriki’s combat training.
At first, the difference in practical experience was obvious.
Tenriki’s techniques were extraordinary, but simulated training and genuine combat pressure were two different things.
The elder attacked relentlessly.
Tenriki dodged.
Countered.
Misjudged distances.
Adjusted.
Learned.
Again.
And again.
And again.
During the first sessions, he was repeatedly pushed into dangerous positions.
Then he began surviving without difficulty.
After that, the fights became even.
And by the final sessions…
The situation had completely reversed.
“Again.”
Tenriki vanished from where he stood.
The elder’s expression changed.
A palm strike came from the side.
He blocked.
Tenriki pivoted instantly and struck again, forcing him backward.
The elder had deliberately restricted himself to roughly chunin-level ability.
Now it wasn’t.
Not even close.
Tenriki pressed forward.
His movements were too precise.
Too efficient.
And worst of all—
The elder saw Tenriki’s hand shift.
His instincts screamed.
He moved.
A nearly invisible arc of sword aura tore through the space where he had been standing.
The elder’s face twitched.
Again?!
He had no choice.
His restrained chakra surged.
For a brief moment, he used power closer to his true jonin level and escaped the attack by the narrowest margin.
The sword aura continued past him.
A deep cut appeared across the training ground behind him.
Silence.
The elder slowly looked at it.
Then at the three-year-old responsible.
His expression became complicated.
This child was becoming ridiculous.
Every day, Tenriki improved at a rate that should have been impossible.
What had begun as training was rapidly becoming survival practice for the adult assigned to train him.
Hiashi naturally received every report.
His satisfaction could hardly have been greater.
Itachi Uchiha had awakened the Sharingan at eight?
Good for him.
The Uchiha could celebrate all they wanted.
The Hyuga had their own monster.
But Tenriki’s training wasn’t the only matter occupying Hiashi’s attention.
The negotiations between Konoha and Kumogakure were nearing their conclusion.
And before those negotiations ended, Hiashi intended to do something else.
Something that would make life considerably more difficult for the Third Hokage.
Rumors began circulating quietly through Konoha.
At first, they were little more than whispers.
“Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The Cloud delegation came here to renegotiate the ceasefire agreement from the Third Shinobi World War.”
The other man frowned.
“Why would Konoha agree to that?”
“Keep your voice down.”
The speaker glanced around.
“The Uchiha have been getting harsher lately. You want the Military Police hearing you talk about this?”
“…Fine. Lower your voice.”
The two moved closer.
“I heard Kumogakure is demanding that the old compensation agreement be changed.”
“What?”
“Three years ago, the Nine-Tails attacked the village, remember? Konoha lost a lot of shinobi.”
“Of course I remember.”
“Cloud saw that weakness and started applying pressure. My cousin says the Hokage has already been forced to accept some of their conditions.”
The man’s face darkened.
“Damn those Cloud bastards.”
“Exactly! We were the ones who let them off before, and now they’re taking advantage of us while we’re weakened?”
“I heard something worse.”
“What?”
“Apparently the Hokage gave up quite a few benefits that should’ve belonged to the village.”
“That’s nonsense!”
The other man immediately shook his head.
“The Hokage would never do something like that.”
“I don’t know. I’m only telling you what I heard.”
“When are they signing the new agreement?”
“In a few days, supposedly.”
Neither man knew where the rumor had started.
Neither did the people who repeated it afterward.
But rumors didn’t need proof to spread.
They only needed to sound believable.
By afternoon, another street was discussing it.
By evening, several neighborhoods had heard some version of the story.
By the next day, the details had changed half a dozen times.
Kumogakure was threatening war.
Konoha had surrendered compensation.
The Third Hokage had sacrificed village interests.
The Cloud delegation had humiliated Konoha.
No one knew which parts were true.
That didn’t stop anyone from talking.
What had begun as a few quiet conversations soon spread throughout the village.
And while Konoha’s civilians argued over what their Hokage might have conceded at the negotiating table, the people responsible for setting those whispers in motion remained comfortably out of sight.
The negotiations had not even ended yet.
But the battlefield had already changed.
After all, a mastermind didn’t have to be old enough to reach the table.
Three years old was apparently enough.