The quiet, damp air in the camp began to scream.
It wasn’t a human sound.
It was the terrifying, high-pitched screech of raw, untamed energy being forcefully compressed into a tiny, localized space.
Madara and Izuna didn’t even blink.
Their Sharingan eyes—Madara’s with two tomoe and Izuna’s with one—spun wildly in the dark, absorbing every single micro-detail of what their older brother was doing.
Shinra sat calmly on the large, mossy rock.
He didn’t weave a single hand seal.
He didn’t take a deep breath to mold elemental chakra in his lungs, nor did he adopt a specific combat stance.
He simply held his right hand out, his palm facing upward, his fingers slightly curled inward as if he were holding an invisible ball.
A faint, sparking blue light ignited in the exact center of his palm.
Then, the oceanic reserves of his newly awakened Sage Body answered his call.
Dense, heavy blue chakra poured out of his tenketsu points.
Under the absolute, flawless guidance of his Level 3 Chakra Control, the energy didn’t just pool in his hand—it began to move.
It spun left.
It spun right.
It rotated diagonally, vertically, and horizontally, all at the exact same time.
The fierce friction of the moving chakra created a glowing, perfect sphere the size of a melon.
The wind in the clearing whipped violently toward Shinra’s hand, drawn in by the sheer kinetic vacuum the jutsu was creating.
The campfire flickered wildly, the flames bending sideways toward the bright blue light, desperate to be consumed by the vortex.
“Look at the density…” Madara whispered.
The nine-year-old’s voice was completely devoid of its usual childishness, replaced entirely by the cold, calculating awe of a seasoned military tactician.
Through his two-tomoe Sharingan, Madara could see the raw mechanics of the jutsu.
It was terrifyingly beautiful, but mostly, it was just terrifying.
“There is no elemental nature at all,” Madara analyzed, speaking rapidly as his genius brain dissected the impossibility of the technique.
“He wasn’t lying.
It is purely neutral chakra.
But the rotation speed…
it is erratic, yet perfectly contained.
There is no outer shell holding it together.
He is maintaining the spherical shape using nothing but his own internal focus.
The mental strain required to keep that from exploding and taking off his own hand is…
it’s monstrous.” Izuna, on the other hand, wasn’t analyzing the complex chakra theory.
He was just a seven-year-old boy watching his big brother hold a miniature, screaming blue star in his bare hand.
“It’s so bright, Shinra-nii!” Izuna cheered, shielding his eyes slightly from the harsh blue glare.
“It sounds like a hundred angry bees!” Shinra smiled faintly.
The Rasengan in his hand hummed with violent, vibrating power.
With his system-granted ‘Adept’ mastery, holding it felt as natural as holding a kunai.
The chakra didn’t burn him; it felt like a perfect, obedient extension of his own body.
“The sound is just the air being displaced by the sheer speed of the rotation,” Shinra explained calmly, playing the role of the wise older brother perfectly.
“But staring at it doesn’t do it justice.
You need to see the tactical application.” Shinra slowly stood up from the rock.
He didn’t use the Body Flicker jutsu.
He simply walked over to the edge of the camp, where a massive, solid boulder rested half-buried in the mud.
It was easily ten feet tall and weighed several tons, likely a remnant from an old Earth Style jutsu used in a past skirmish.
“Watch the point of impact, Madara,” Shinra instructed.
Shinra pulled his right arm back and slammed the glowing blue sphere directly into the center of the solid stone.
GRIND!
The noise was absolutely deafening.
The Rasengan didn’t explode outward like a standard fireball.
It didn’t pierce cleanly like a lightning blade.
It acted like a relentless, high-speed drill made of pure kinetic force.
The solid rock groaned and shrieked as the spinning chakra violently chewed through it.
Dust and sharp fragments of stone blasted outward in a circular shockwave, forcing Madara and Izuna to raise their arms to protect their faces.
Shinra simply pushed his hand forward, his face completely blank.
The Rasengan bored a perfectly round, smooth hole straight through the center of the massive boulder, exiting out the other side.
Shinra pulled his arm back and dispersed the chakra.
The blue light vanished instantly, plunging the camp back into the dim, flickering orange glow of the campfire.
For a long moment, there was total silence.
Then, the massive boulder let out a heavy, sickening crack.
The structural integrity of the stone had been completely pulverized from the inside out.
The top half of the boulder slid off and crashed into the mud, crumbling into dozens of jagged, broken pieces.
Madara swallowed hard.
The sound was incredibly loud in the quiet clearing.
His analytical mind instantly applied the jutsu’s damage output to a human body on the battlefield.
If that hit a Senju wearing heavy iron armor…
the armor wouldn’t even slow it down.
The rotational force would catch the metal, twist it, and grind the flesh beneath it into paste.
It is a guaranteed, one-hit execution that bypasses all standard physical defenses.
And because it requires no hand seals, the enemy has zero time to cast a counter-jutsu.
“Teach me,” Madara demanded.
The nine-year-old didn’t ask politely.
He marched right up to Shinra, his red eyes burning with a fierce, starving hunger for military power.
He looked up at his older brother, his expression deadly serious.
“Brother, I need to know how to do that,” Madara insisted, his tone completely mimicking the professional desperation of a subordinate speaking to their squad commander.
“If Izuna and I can learn to cast a seal-less jutsu with that level of armor-piercing lethality, our squad’s survival rate on the front lines will increase by at least eighty percent.
It is a tactical necessity.
We will never be ambushed and outmatched in close-quarters combat again.” “Me too!
Me too!” Izuna yelled, running over and grabbing Shinra’s sleeve, bouncing on the toes of his sandals.
“I want to grind rocks, Shinra-nii!
Teach me the spinny blue ball!” Shinra looked down at his two little brothers.
He felt a deep, genuine warmth spread through his chest, completely melting away the cold, calculated killer persona he had used against the Senju Jonin.
In his past life on Earth, as Samaksh, he was an only child.
He had never known what it felt like to have siblings.
He had only read about family bonds in books or watched them in anime.
But the soul of the original Shinra loved these two boys more than life itself, and that love had perfectly, seamlessly merged with his own emotions.
He wanted to give them everything.
He wanted to make them the strongest ninja in the world so no one could ever hurt them again.
He wanted to build a world where Madara didn’t have to become a bitter, hateful ghost.
“Alright,” Shinra said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I will teach you.” Madara’s eyes widened in sheer surprise.
He had fully expected a lecture about how dangerous it was, or a typical adult excuse about how they were too young.
“Truly?” Madara asked, his voice dropping into a hushed, respectful tone.
“You will share a jutsu of this caliber with us so soon?” “I will teach you the foundational steps as soon as we return to the clan compound,” Shinra clarified, holding up a single finger to stall their excitement.
“But there are strict rules, Madara.
You must listen to my exact orders.” “State your conditions, Brother,” Madara replied instantly, his posture straightening into a sharp, respectful stance.
The sheer thirst for new, highly effective combat methods completely overrode his stubborn pride.
“You can use your Sharingan to copy the rotation pattern, yes,” Shinra explained, tapping a finger against Madara’s forehead.
“But you cannot copy the volume or the final compression.
You are both young.
Your chakra pathways are still developing.” Shinra gestured to the crumbled boulder.
“If you try to compress that much dense, neutral energy into your hand right now, your pathways won’t be able to handle the internal pressure,” Shinra warned, his voice turning deadly serious.
“The jutsu will backfire.
Your pathways will burst, and you will permanently cripple your right arm.
Therefore, I will teach you the shape manipulation in progressive stages.
You will practice rotating the chakra, and then containing it.
By the time you master those steps—which will take you years—your bodies will be old enough to handle the final compression.” Madara frowned deeply, processing the biological facts.
His genius brain instantly saw the irrefutable logic in Shinra’s warning.
“Understood,” Madara nodded sharply, looking completely satisfied with the explanation.
“Attempting full compression with underdeveloped chakra pathways would result in catastrophic internal damage.
Segmenting the training into progressive, safe stages maximizes our long-term combat potential without risking friendly casualties.
It is the most logical approach.” “Exactly,” Shinra smirked, deeply amused by Madara’s cold, Tobirama-like breakdown of the situation.
“But Shinra-nii,” Izuna pouted slightly, looking down at his small hands.
“If it takes years to learn the blue ball, what do we do until then?
Are we going to be too weak for the battlefield?” “You aren’t weak, Izuna.
You just need to refine what you already have,” Shinra said gently, kneeling down to look his youngest brother in the eyes.
“Since you both awakened your Sharingan tonight, and you survived a Senju ambush, I am going to teach you something else at the compound.
Something you can use immediately.” Madara’s ears twitched visibly, his dark eyes snapping back to Shinra with intense curiosity.
“Your basic chakra control is fine, but you don’t know how to properly weaponize your new eyes yet,” Shinra promised, his voice dropping into a serious, commanding tone.
“I will teach you the Uchiha Phantom Shuriken technique, and how to cast a baseline hypnotic lock without using any hand seals, just like I did against that Jonin.” Madara’s breath hitched.
His mind instantly calculated the combat benefits.
“A visual genjutsu lock?” Madara asked, his voice filled with raw tactical excitement.
“If we can paralyze an enemy’s nervous system for even a fraction of a second just by making eye contact…
that completely bypasses the need for the Tiger seal.
It would save us a crucial half-second in a high-speed sword duel.
That is an incredible advantage against the physically superior Senju.” “That’s the idea,” Shinra smiled, knowing he was dangling the ultimate tactical carrot in front of the battle-obsessed genius.
“But I’m only going to teach you if you actually rest and recover your stamina.
The real war is far from over.” “Yes, Brother!” Madara agreed immediately.
Shinra let out a loud, genuine laugh.
“Alright.
Get some sleep, both of you.
You burned a lot of mental energy awakening those eyes today, and your chakra reserves are empty.
I will take the first watch and wait for the cleanup squad.” Izuna yawned loudly, the adrenaline finally crashing out of his small body.
He stumbled over to one of the dry bedrolls left near the unburned supply crates and crawled inside, falling asleep almost instantly.
Madara, trying to look much tougher, walked over to a nearby tree root.
He sat down, resting his scythe across his lap, and closed his eyes.
Within minutes, the soft, even breathing of the two boys filled the quiet camp.
Shinra remained seated on his rock by the fire.
He didn’t feel tired at all.
His Matured Sage Body was keeping him perfectly energized, his heart beating with a steady, endless rhythm.
He looked at his sleeping brothers, the bloody mud, and the dark, towering trees around them.
He was really here.
The modern world of cars, exams, and rain in India was completely gone.
He was Shinra Uchiha, the heir to the most cursed clan in history.
But as he looked at Madara’s peaceful, sleeping face, Shinra felt no fear.
He only felt an overwhelming sense of purpose.
He had already changed the timeline.
He had saved Madara from severe physical trauma and the soul-crushing grief of losing his last remaining brother.
He had claimed the Rasengan, the Chidori, the Sage Body, and the ultimate mastery over the elements.
I’m going to change this world, Shinra promised himself, his black eyes reflecting the dancing orange flames.
I will build a future where these kids don’t have to sleep with weapons in their hands.
No matter how much blood I have to spill to get there.
He leaned back, resting his head against the cool stone, and waited for the morning to come.
The real game was just beginning.