The year is 37 of the Leaf era, inside the Naka Shrine.
Fugaku Uchiha sat in the lower tier of the seating arrangement.
He was not yet the clan leader, merely a well-known Jonin holding the Three-Tomoe Sharingan.
At this moment, he watched with a mixture of reverence and nostalgia as a man walked slowly into the room.
It was the clan’s routine meeting, and most of the members were present.
“Fanma is as formidable as ever,” Fugaku thought, unable to suppress his awe.
“Just looking at his physique and presence is enough to overwhelm anyone.” The man was a youth of about twenty, possessing a remarkably imposing frame.
His limbs were dense and powerful—not an ounce of slack to be found—as if his muscles were the physical manifestation of raw force.
At over two meters tall, he radiated a natural, crushing pressure.
His features were not savage, but rather a blend of sharp, rugged handsomeness.
He wore a loose haori tied with a casual, well-knotted shimenawa at his waist.
If one only judged him by his attire, he carried the refined, aristocratic air of a noble from the Capital—distinctly different from most ninja, appearing more like a grandmaster of martial arts.
To think I once misjudged him so thoroughly, Fugaku mused, remembering the first time he had seen Fanma.
Back then, Fugaku was a young boy.
Having awakened his eyes early, he had been intoxicated by the power and superiority of the Sharingan, already designated as the most promising contender for the next clan leader.
Hearing whispers that there was someone in the clan without chakra—a man who looked robust but lacked the essence of a ninja—Fugaku had gone to see him, fueled by arrogance and ridicule.
How pathetic, I thought.
Despite the size, he appeared to be all shell and no substance.
After all, chakra was the very life of a ninja.
But when he actually saw Fanma, he had frozen.
Because true strength speaks for itself.
Simply seeing him, Fugaku understood that here was a man of absolute power, even if his Sharingan couldn’t detect a drop of chakra flowing through Fanma’s meridians.
Ever since, that name had been etched into Fugaku’s mind.
He could never forget the determined profile or the detached, cold gaze Fanma had leveled at him.
Even now, through persistent effort, Fugaku had earned the right to address him as “brother” and engage in relatively close conversation.
Fanma reached the center of the assembly, offered a casual nod to the current clan leader, Setsuna, and swept his gaze over the gathered clansmen.
Even the veterans with three-tomoe eyes felt as though they had been struck by a heavy hammer when they met his stare.
It wasn’t genjutsu; it was an inexplicable, crushing intimidation.
“He truly lives up to his reputation as the Perfect Weapon,” the elder Uchiha members sighed inwardly.
“Uchiha Fanma.” His muscles looked like iron cast in bronze, catching the sunlight with a metallic sheen.
The sheer power concealed within his frame triggered an instinctual warning from the Sharingan: extreme danger.
By this point, Fanma’s path of physical cultivation was beyond the understanding of the average ninja.
Setsuna Uchiha watched him with a mix of helplessness and begrudging respect.
Had their attempts to suppress him ultimately failed?
He had become too significant to control.
“Congratulations, Fanma.
I hear you’ve secured significant results for the village recently, defeating a team of veteran Jonin from the Sand who were testing our borders,” Setsuna began.
“The clan is heartened by your progress.
However, we still hope that one day you will return to developing your Sharingan.
It would be an excellent example for the younger generations to follow.
After all, the Sharingan is the bloodline that represents the very foundation of our clan.
It would be a great benefit to your taijutsu as well.” Setsuna locked eyes with Fanma, his dark tomoe swirling as he exerted a powerful genjutsu.
The youth before him, however, remained as calm as still water, completely unfazed.
So it has come to this, Setsuna sighed silently.
I can no longer suppress him.
In a clan that took pride in ocular prowess, Fanma’s obsession with taijutsu had initially been seen as an affront to their bloodline.
But as his strength soared, and as veteran after veteran was soundly defeated in sparring matches, the perspective of the younger generation had shifted.
Like Fugaku, they began to worship this raw, primitive violence.
Taijutsu…
perhaps it is a viable path after all?
The Uchiha were a people who respected strength above all else.
Even as clan leader, Setsuna could not correct a powerhouse who ignored his ocular power.
Fanma crossed his arms, staring straight into Setsuna’s eyes.
“I am merely refining my craft.
That man, Danzo, had the nerve to claim I wasn’t following orders…” “Enough!
Say no more,” Setsuna interrupted, feeling a sense of resignation.
The man took orders from no one.
He showed no deference to the clan head, and he had caused that “Shadow of the Shinobi,” Danzo Shimura, no shortage of grief.
But there was little to be done.
Not only was he incredibly powerful, but he was also the son of Kagami Uchiha; his status was delicate.
Thinking of this, a smile tugged at the corner of Setsuna’s mouth.
He always felt a bit better knowing Danzo was having a hard time.
“In any case, we celebrate your achievements for the village and the glory you bring to the Uchiha name!” “Congratulations, Senior Fanma!” The Uchiha members erupted in applause, the younger ones clapping so hard their hands turned red.
Fanma waved his hand with a smile to acknowledge his kin before slowly returning to his seat.
Since transmigrating into this world, Fanma had treated his body with the brutal dedication of an ascetic monk.
His nerves were constantly stretched thin.
In the beginning, he had faced nothing but misunderstanding.
It was only now, after achieving a degree of success, that he could mentally relax a bit.
To relieve the pressure, he enjoyed visiting local izakayas, chatting with the elders and his peers.
As an Uchiha, his humorous and straightforward manner of speaking made him unexpectedly popular across all age groups in the village.
Fugaku sat beside him, watching with awe.
Fanma nodded in greeting before closing his eyes to meditate.
Several bold, powerful characters appeared in his mind.
This was his greatest secret.
In his pursuit of taijutsu, he earned “traits” as rewards for his achievements, each granting him special abilities.
These traits were the foundation of his unique combat system.
One such trait, Heaven and Earth Furnace, allowed him to bypass the need for chakra, absorbing energy to solidify and reinforce his physical form instead.
This was the reason he possessed no chakra.
As he grew, the traits could be promoted if he gained sufficient insight or if his body absorbed enough energy.
If he could offer a sacrifice containing supernatural properties during an evolution, the effect would become even more potent.
In the twenty-three years since he arrived in this world, Fanma had fought countless battles and successfully acquired five core traits: Unity of Mind and Body: His spirit and flesh were tightly bound.
External energy could only affect his mind or soul if it first shattered his body.
Taijutsu Grandmaster: He had mastered various schools of combat and technique to a level of perfection, allowing him to perceive the structural weaknesses of any object.
Savage Growth: His healing capabilities were vastly improved, and he gained increased resistance to various forms of harm after recovering from them.
Copper Bones and Iron Skin: His skeletal and muscular density had transcended human limitations.
These were the fruits of his tireless labor.
Every time he reviewed them, he felt a sense of security.
Today, however, was an extraordinary day.
Fanma planned to sacrifice his Sharingan—not his vision, but the supernatural essence contained within it—to evolve the new trait that was about to appear.
He ignored the ongoing debate at the meeting regarding the endless political squabbles of the Hokage’s office.
Those problems had been festering for thirty years, and he had no interest in them.
Fanma settled into a meditative posture, his aura deepening as he focused his will on the taijutsu traits in his mind.
The black text that had initially appeared began to vibrate, slowly shifting into a mesmerizing and dangerous shade of red.