Half an hour later.
Uchiha Fugaku hurried home.
After examining Tōru’s condition from head to toe, the sternness on his face immediately eased.
Itachi Uchiha’s expression darkened.
[Just as I thought…] He was very familiar with the faint upward curl at the corners of his father’s mouth.
For the deep-minded head of the Uchiha clan, that expression was basically the equivalent of throwing his head back and laughing with delight.
“Dad…” Sasuke leaned against Mikoto’s chest, clutching Tōru’s hand tightly.
There were still tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.
His face was pale as he asked, “What happened to Tōru?” “You don’t need to worry about him.” Fugaku gently shook his head.
“Tōru has probably awakened his dōjutsu.
That’s a good thing.” “What?!” Mikoto lightly covered her mouth.
Her reaction was completely different from the delight hidden in Fugaku’s expression.
Instead, she looked much closer to Itachi.
Rather than happiness, the three adults were filled with confusion and concern.
“How is that possible?” As a jōnin of the Uchiha clan, Mikoto naturally understood what awakening the Sharingan meant.
The Sharingan, also known as the “Eye That Reflects the Heart,” could only awaken and evolve when an Uchiha experienced an emotional shock that was suddenly too overwhelming to bear, particularly an extremely powerful surge of negative emotion.
Mikoto herself had awakened her Sharingan because one day she returned home and discovered that her pet cat had mysteriously died.
She had been devastated.
At the time, she had still been a Genin and assumed it was simply an accident.
But when other clan members’ pets began dying one after another, she eventually figured out the truth her parents had been unwilling to tell her.
Those pets, which had grown up alongside the clan’s children, had been assigned one final purpose: To force their owners to awaken the Sharingan at the cost of their own lives.
And the ones killing them were precisely the parents and elders who desperately wanted their children to awaken.
Even then, however, not every Uchiha child could successfully awaken the Sharingan.
Awakening and evolving the Sharingan required both opportunity and talent.
For example, Itachi had awakened the two-tomoe Sharingan at the age of eight after witnessing his teammate’s death.
That alone had marked him as a once-in-a-generation genius.
But Tōru was only five!
Normally, even when Fugaku scolded him, Tōru remained completely unmoved.
What kind of stimulus could possibly have driven him to awaken the Sharingan at such a young age—and without even having learned how to mold chakra?
The thought that Tōru might have endured an overwhelming emotional shock that he couldn’t handle, yet had chosen not to tell anyone, filled Mikoto with guilt.
She should have tried harder to communicate with him…
“There is nothing impossible about it.” Fugaku pondered for a moment.
“Perhaps because Tōru has always been reluctant to express himself, he accumulated his emotions over the years until some stimulus finally caused them to erupt.” “Something like this has happened before.
The difference is that those clan members were much older.” He turned toward the son he was proudest of.
“Itachi, you were with him, weren’t you?
What exactly was Tōru doing before he collapsed?” Itachi composed himself.
Suppressing his instinctive urge to glance toward the butterfly specimen on the kitchen windowsill, he answered casually, “Cutting vegetables.
Just like usual.” Fugaku opened and closed his mouth.
Then he pressed for more information.
“What was he cutting?” “Salmon.” Itachi paused.
Then he offered a theory that was easier to explain than the truth.
“Could it be that Tōru didn’t want me disturbing him in the kitchen, but because he isn’t good at expressing anger, he awakened the Sharingan instead?” “…” Except for the still-confused Sasuke, the other three lowered their eyes and fell silent.
Fugaku and Mikoto were considering the connection between the Sharingan awakening and the kitchen.
Their motivations, however, were obviously different.
As for Itachi, the storm raging inside him was far greater than anything visible on his face.
To be honest, he disliked his father’s attitude toward Tōru’s awakening.
He disliked the clan’s attitude toward the Sharingan even more.
For the sake of power and so-called “Uchiha pride,” these elders ignored the suffering of younger clan members.
They treated the pain required to awaken the Sharingan as a sacrifice worth making for greater strength.
Then they glorified the ability to endure and suppress that pain as a shinobi’s “capacity.” Whoever could abandon something precious, endure the resulting suffering, and use that pain to become stronger was considered a clan member with great “capacity.” Such a person was destined for greatness.
Generation after generation of Uchiha children had grown up under this doctrine, only to pass the same poison down to the next generation.
Under this twisted and distorted logic, each clan member ceased to be an individual.
They became nothing more than tools for the evolution and propagation of the Sharingan.
It was almost as though, in the eyes of the clan, as long as the Sharingan could eventually reach the level once possessed by Madara Uchiha, any sacrifice was justified.
Seeing his father become excited over the fact that his five-year-old brother had awakened the Sharingan filled Itachi with intense anger.
What hurt him even more was seeing the longing and envy in Sasuke’s eyes when the boy looked at their father and then at Tōru.
Itachi unconsciously clenched his fists.
[Sasuke, you have no idea what these eyes really mean!] Before the strange silence could continue, Tōru’s eyelids trembled.
He was about to wake up.
“Tōru!” Mikoto cried out in relief.
But Fugaku moved even faster.
Perhaps wanting to express his affection for the son who caused him the most headaches, he reached toward Tōru’s head, intending to help him sit up.
But just before he touched him, Tōru abruptly opened his eyes.
He seized Fugaku’s wrist with astonishing speed.
Fugaku frowned.
He felt pain.
Tōru’s grip was extraordinarily strong.
Fugaku continued pushing his hand forward, applying more force, but Tōru’s hand was like a tightened steel bolt, preventing him from advancing even an inch.
[You’ve got to be kidding me.] Fugaku’s shock was indescribable.
This meant that without using chakra to enhance his physical strength, Tōru’s raw strength was actually comparable to his own.
What was wrong with this child?
Why was he so strong?
If Tōru hadn’t looked nine parts identical to Sasuke, Fugaku would have wondered whether this child had inherited the blood of the Senju instead of the Uchiha.
Fortunately, Tōru quickly recognized his father.
He expressionlessly released Fugaku’s wrist.
His earlier reaction had simply been because his father’s presence was the most unfamiliar to him.
Tōru didn’t say anything.
He didn’t know what to say.
In truth, his mind was in complete turmoil.
He didn’t know whether the voice he had heard before losing consciousness had been real.
Nor did he know how he could verify it.
His deep gaze swept across everyone’s faces.
Then he simply stood up from the tatami floor and looked at the clock hanging on the wall.
Seven-thirty in the evening.
Exactly half an hour had passed since he put the ingredients into the stew pot.
“Dinner is ready.” After saying that, he headed toward the kitchen to turn off the gas stove.
Fugaku grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.
“Wait.” Looking at his son’s expressionless face, Fugaku frowned.
“Tōru, do you know what happened to you just now?
Do you know why you fainted?” His son wasn’t merely indifferent to the outside world.
He was practically indifferent to his own body.
“I lost my balance.” “It wasn’t simply that.” Fugaku pointed at Tōru’s eyes and patiently explained, “You awakened the ocular power of the Sharingan, but your body doesn’t have enough chakra to control it yet.
The strain became too much for your body, and that’s why you fainted.
Do you understand?” Itachi and his mother exchanged glances.
Both knew what their father was about to say.
“It’s still unclear how many tomoe your Sharingan has awakened, but once you learn how to extract chakra, you’ll quickly possess the strength of a Genin.” Pride appeared on Fugaku’s face.
“This is the power of the Uchiha clan.
“This is the strongest bloodline limit in the shinobi world.” “Tōru, I’ve never heard of a child awakening the Sharingan at your age.
Perhaps your talent is even greater than Shisui’s and Itachi’s…” Fugaku placed both hands on Tōru’s shoulders.
His eyes shone with anticipation.
“If you train seriously, you’ll soon become a powerful shinobi capable of standing on your own.
When that happens, our clan will be able to withstand the pressure from the village…” “That’s enough.” Tōru wasn’t affected in the slightest by his father’s almost fanatical excitement.
His eyes remained cold.
“I’m not interested in becoming a shinobi.” He had developed memories at a very young age, and therefore remembered seeing Itachi come home covered in blood.
Especially when Itachi was eight.
He would often lie awake throughout the night, sitting outside the window in silent contemplation.
Sometimes, he would secretly shed tears.
He had lost a teammate.
Yet he couldn’t show weakness in front of their father.
So he had been forced to bear everything alone.
Tōru had never forgotten that.
Whenever he remembered it, he felt deeply uncomfortable.
In Tōru’s eyes, shinobi were people who performed dirty work for others in exchange for money.
It didn’t matter whether their targets were innocent.
As long as the client made the request and it didn’t conflict with the interests of the village, shinobi would take lives without hesitation.
They discarded their emotions as human beings and called it “the basic discipline of a shinobi.” They replaced basic human morality with professional duty.
Tōru believed that if a shinobi’s loyalty to their profession exceeded their attachment to everything else—for example, like the father and younger brother of Tengen Uzui, the Sound Hashira—then they might even be willing to kill their own relatives.
Demons preyed upon humans because they needed to eat in order to survive.
Tōru could never forgive them, but he could at least regard them as a kind of intelligent wild beast.
After all, if they didn’t eat humans, they couldn’t survive.
But shinobi possessed tremendous power and still chose to take human lives for money.
They killed people to keep secrets.
In some ways, they were even worse than demons.
For someone like Tōru, whose purpose in his previous life had been to protect people’s lives, becoming one of them was impossible to accept.
“Foolish!” Fugaku’s expression darkened.
“Do you think this is still merely a question of whether you’re interested?” “You’re my son.
You’re an extremely rare genius.
You were born carrying the responsibility of bringing glory to the Uchiha clan.” “For the future of our clan, and to maintain the balance between us and the village, you must become a shinobi!” “My responsibility is to take care of everyone else in this family.” Tōru frowned.
He pried both of his father’s hands from his shoulders.
Then, word by word, he said, “This matter ends here.” This time was different from before.
As Tōru spoke, an authority that had never appeared from him before radiated from his body.
There was an unmistakable sense that he would not tolerate argument.
It was the unshakable presence of the Water Hashira.
It had no business appearing in a five-year-old child.
To be honest, Tōru had always found it somewhat unnatural to regard two people only a little older than him as his parents.
His previous and current lives combined made him twenty-eight years old, although mentally he sometimes seemed to fluctuate somewhere between eight and eighty.
Nevertheless, he had maintained that relationship for five years.
This was the first time he had consciously confronted Fugaku.
“You!” Being openly contradicted, combined with all their previous conflicts, caused Fugaku’s anger to explode.
His blood-red three-tomoe Sharingan snapped open, the tomoe seeming to spin rapidly within his eyes.
“Do you even have any respect for me as your father?!” “Dear!” Mikoto hurriedly stepped between Fugaku and Tōru.
There was a faint trace of wariness in her expression toward her husband, like a lioness preparing to pounce.
“Tōru is still just a child.” His wife’s words and posture were like cold snowmelt washing over Fugaku’s overheated mind.
He immediately regained his composure.
With a cold snort, he turned away.
“Hmph.
I’m going to take a bath.
You all eat first!” He walked toward the bathroom without looking back.
Tōru simply went into the kitchen.
The three people remaining in the tatami room all breathed a sigh of relief.
Sasuke was simply frightened.
He had never attended a clan meeting, so he had never witnessed his father losing control of his temper like that.
Itachi and Mikoto, however, were worried that Fugaku might have used some kind of genjutsu on Tōru in his anger.
Since Tōru had no chakra yet, such an attack could have caused irreversible mental damage.
“Itachi, although I also want Tōru to follow his own wishes and live as an ordinary person, you know your father won’t let this go.” “If the clan members learn that Tōru has awakened the Sharingan, they’ll pressure your father as well.” “The Uchiha clan is famous for being insular.
That also means its internal doctrine of ‘the clan above all’ is deeply entrenched.” “Although Tōru is the clan head’s son, in reality, just like you, he’s regarded as the clan’s ‘collective property.’ The clan will never allow a genius who awakened the Sharingan at five to waste his talent simply because he’s a child who wants to ‘play.'” “If the jōnin in the clan start applying pressure, your father will be placed in an extremely difficult position.” “He may eventually be forced to take ‘special measures’ against Tōru.” “Some of the elders might even secretly use genjutsu on him if they find an opportunity.” Mikoto’s face was filled with worry.
She spoke quietly to her exceptionally intelligent eldest son.
“Can you persuade Tōru?
Even symbolically, it would be enough.
At the very least, he should learn how to extract chakra.
Otherwise, even controlling the Sharingan will be difficult…” “I’ll think of something.
Please don’t worry.” Itachi reassured her.
“And please keep this matter hidden from the clan for now.
Father included.” “I understand.
Thank you, Itachi.
It’s wonderful to have you here…” And so, mother and son reached an unspoken agreement.
Sasuke, who was listening nearby, understood only part of the conversation.
But he understood at least one thing: Tōru was extraordinarily talented, yet didn’t want to become a shinobi.
And that was causing Dad, Mom, and Big Brother a great deal of trouble.
Although hearing their father say that Tōru might become stronger than Itachi made Sasuke a tiny bit unhappy, it wasn’t enough to matter.
It was rare for their father to acknowledge Tōru, so Sasuke was actually happy for his younger brother.
What truly bothered Sasuke was why Tōru didn’t care about any of the things Sasuke himself desperately wanted.
His brother’s affection.
His father’s expectations.
Even the clan’s secret techniques.
Tōru cared about none of them.
“My responsibility is to take care of everyone else in this family.” Sasuke remembered those words clearly.
He could tell from Tōru’s expression that he had meant every word.
After thinking it over again and again, Sasuke eventually reached one conclusion.
The people Tōru cared about most were probably his brother and himself!
Then Sasuke remembered his mother’s request to Itachi.
A plan suddenly formed in his mind.
If he asked Tōru for something, would Tōru agree?
…
By the time Uchiha Fugaku finished bathing and returned, Mikoto and her three sons were already halfway through dinner.
When he realized that no one had waited for him, a faint trace of depression appeared on Fugaku’s face.
He glared at Tōru, who silently served him a bowl of soup, then sat down stiffly and raised the spoon.
He brought the milky-white fish soup to his mouth.
[This is delicious.] One mouthful should have improved his mood.
Instead, he felt even worse.
[If only he’d devoted half as much thought to training as he has to cooking since he was three.
By now, he should be around the level Itachi was at six or seven.] Fugaku hadn’t forgotten how strong Tōru’s grip had been earlier.
Considering that Tōru had only just awakened from unconsciousness, his physical strength could easily be called extraordinary.
An exceptional physique combined with a five-year-old’s Sharingan…
Such incredible talent was being wasted on cooking?
Even Madara Uchiha would never forgive such a waste.
After taking a bath, however, Fugaku had calmed down somewhat.
Past experience told him that children like Tōru, Itachi, and Shisui—children with strong wills of their own—could not be forced.
If he wanted Tōru to train, Tōru had to develop the desire to become stronger himself.
The question was how to make that happen.
[“My responsibility is to take care of everyone else in this family.”] [That’s what he said earlier, wasn’t it?] Fugaku calmly drank his fish soup while his eyes shifted repeatedly between Itachi and Sasuke.
After all, those were the only two people in the household whom Tōru considered his responsibility to protect.
[What if I make him understand that simply cooking and washing clothes isn’t nearly enough to protect Itachi and Sasuke?] One dark idea after another, befitting a clan head, surfaced in Fugaku’s mind.
But his paternal instincts quickly buried them.
The idea was still incomplete.
At least he now had a direction.
Just then, Sasuke suddenly asked, “Mom, did you buy birthday candles for making wishes today?” “Oh?
Has Sasuke already decided what he wants to wish for?” At last, a somewhat warm topic appeared.
Mikoto, who had been on edge all evening, immediately brightened.
“Don’t eat too much, you two.
I’ll go get the cake.” She went into the kitchen and took three small triangular cakes from the refrigerator.
She placed five candles on each of two pieces and distributed the cakes among the three boys.
“Here.
This strawberry one is Sasuke’s.” “The wisteria-flavored one is Tōru’s.” (For clarification: there are many types of wisteria-flavored sweets; the poisonous compounds are mainly concentrated in the seeds.) “And this chocolate one is Itachi’s.” After setting the three cakes down, Mikoto stood beside the light switch and turned toward Fugaku.
“Daddy, lighting the candles is your job.” Itachi immediately burst out laughing.
He remembered Tōru’s evaluation of Sasuke’s Great Fireball Technique.
“Using Konoha’s finest Fire Release for something like this is truly…” Fugaku gave a symbolic complaint before turning toward Sasuke and Tōru.
“Watch the hand seal I’m making.
This is the Tiger Seal.
It is a special hand seal used to transform chakra into fire, and almost all Fire Release techniques end with this seal.” Seeing the familiar movement, Sasuke’s eyes widened with excitement.
Tōru, however, showed no reaction.
His gaze was like that of someone watching a sparrow pecking at food.
[This kid…] Fugaku saw it and felt his blood boil.
After completing the hand seal, he exhaled two low-temperature blue flames shaped like flower buds.
The bud-shaped flames floated above the two cakes before suddenly blooming into fleeting lotus flowers.
All ten candles ignited simultaneously.
The delicate chakra control drew excited cries from Sasuke.
Even Itachi showed a trace of admiration.
What their father had demonstrated was an exceptionally sophisticated application of Fire Release chakra shape transformation.
There were probably few Konoha shinobi capable of surpassing it.
Itachi still had a long way to go before reaching that level of Fire Release mastery.
Tōru, meanwhile, was stunned.
He had heard the same voice that had spoken before he fainted.
[Uchiha Fugaku has used a Fire Release technique in your presence.
Flame Breathing analysis progress +0.04%.] “Click.” Mikoto turned off the lights.
The candles on the two cakes became the most conspicuous sources of light in the darkness.
Yet they were only bright enough to illuminate the faces of the twin brothers.
Itachi noticed something.
Even in this darkness, Tōru’s eyes still reflected no light.
[So this is what a black hole is supposed to look like.] “Make your wish, then blow out the candles.” Mikoto spoke softly.
“So, who wants to go first?
Tōru is the younger brother, so—” “Me!
Me!
I’ll go first!” Sasuke had been ready for this.
Mikoto glanced at Tōru, who remained completely indifferent, and could only helplessly nod.
“Then Sasuke goes first.” “My wish is—” Sasuke seemed to have forgotten the rule that wishes were supposed to be kept secret.
He announced his wish loudly to the cake.
“I hope that when Big Brother teaches me how to train in the future, Tōru will come with us!” He didn’t wait for anyone to react.
“Fwoof!” He blew out the candles.
His two dark eyes, hidden in the darkness, stared intently at Tōru’s face illuminated by the remaining candlelight.
Itachi and Mikoto were both surprised.
They hadn’t expected Sasuke to make such a wish.
Fugaku, on the other hand, nearly burst out laughing.
He wanted nothing more than to grab Sasuke by the shoulders and shout, “That’s my son!” Sasuke wasn’t finished.
“Mom, you said birthday wishes always come true, right?” “Hmm…
As long as it’s not something unreasonable, I suppose that’s how it works.” [Although your previous wishes were always about things you wanted from us or Itachi.] “Then Tōru will definitely agree to my wish, right?” “That depends on what Tōru wants.” Mikoto raised an eyebrow.
Sasuke was much more cunning than she had imagined.
Was he actually trying to pressure Tōru into agreeing?
The entire family fell silent.
Everyone waited for Tōru’s answer.
After a long while, Tōru finally spoke.
“Then I’ll have to eat lunch outside from now on.” [He agreed!] The other four all had the exact same thought.
“Then it’s a promise.” Sasuke’s eyes shifted mischievously.
“Big Brother said he’ll continue teaching me the Great Fireball Technique tomorrow.
You’ll come too, right, Tōru?” “Yes.” Tōru nodded.
Seeing this, Fugaku nearly wanted to pick Sasuke up and throw him into the air in celebration.
Once Tōru witnessed Itachi demonstrating various ninjutsu, Fugaku refused to believe that the boy wouldn’t become interested.
Moreover, to avoid certain troublesome young clan members who liked picking fights, Itachi and Sasuke usually trained at a training ground on the outskirts of the village.
That meant Tōru would finally be exposing himself to a relatively “dangerous” area.
It would make it much easier for Fugaku to arrange certain things.
“Now it’s Tōru’s turn to make a wish.” Mikoto blinked.
“You can say your wish aloud too, just like Sasuke.” Everyone became attentive.
They all wanted to know what Tōru would wish for.
Tōru stared at the candle in front of him.
He didn’t know what to say.
Then he suddenly remembered what the strange voice in his mind had said before.
Something about being able to resurrect Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku.
[Who was that voice talking to me?
A god?] [Was what it said true?] [If Rengoku can be resurrected, then what about everyone else who died?] [Gyomei, Shinobu, Mitsuri, Sabito, and that Tokito kid…
Will all of them meet me again in this world?] (Obanai: ?) Although Tōru was only half-convinced by what the voice had told him, a thought gradually took shape in his heart.
He finally spoke.
“My wish is…
“…that they won’t hate me.” [If they really can be resurrected.] Then, using a method Sasuke couldn’t possibly understand, Tōru casually waved his hand.
The candle went out.
It was as though an invisible deity had answered his wish.