The air inside Tazuna's house was warm, dimly lit by lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the scent of rice and grilled fish thick in the air. Bowls clinked against wood as dinner was served.
Sasuke sat at the far end of the low table, knees drawn up, back straight. The food sat untouched in front of him.
His eyes weren't on the meal.
They were on Kakashi.
Or rather, the empty space where Kakashi should've been.
The jounin had long since excused himself to his room to rest, still recovering from chakra exhaustion.
Sasuke's fingers tightened around his chopsticks until the wood creaked.
"You're not even an Uchiha…"
He gritted his teeth.
There was no other explanation. The Sharingan didn't just appear in people. It wasn't a prize from a lottery. It was blood, it was legacy, it was his clan.
And Kakashi had it.
Sasuke had been piecing it together all day. The way Kakashi used it during the fight with Zabuza—effortlessly. He didn't even activate it. It was already there, uncovered and glowing like some divine tool he had every right to use.
The only logical conclusion?
Someone had implanted it. A corpse had given it to him.
An Uchiha corpse.
A family member.
Sasuke's hands began to tremble.
Was it someone he'd known? A cousin? An uncle? One of the countless relatives who had fallen during the night of the massacre?
What if it was his father's eye?
What if it had been taken… stolen, while the bodies still lay warm?
The thought made his stomach churn.
He suddenly shoved the food away from him.
"Not hungry?" Tazuna's daughter, Tsunami, asked softly from across the table.
Sasuke didn't respond.
Beside him, Naruto was already on his third bowl, stuffing his face with rice and dried fish like he'd been starved for a week. Which, considering how hard he'd trained earlier that day—wasn't far from the truth.
"Heh… this is the best meal I've ever had!" Naruto beamed, rice stuck to both cheeks.
Tsunami chuckled warmly. "You're welcome to seconds. Or thirds. Or… whatever this is," she added as Naruto started eyeing the rest of the tray.
"You'll regret saying that," Sakura said, sipping her tea with a calm that was almost too perfect.
From across the room, the small boy—Inari—glared daggers at Naruto. His hands were balled into fists under the table.
"Idiot," Inari muttered. "Why are you laughing when you're gonna die anyway?"
Naruto blinked, halfway through shoving fish into his mouth. "...Huh?"
"You're all gonna die," Inari repeated, louder this time. "Gato's too strong. Everyone who stands up to him dies. Even heroes."
There was a sharp silence. Tazuna looked up, sighing. "Inari…"
"No!" the boy snapped. "It's the truth! You don't know anything about this place! You're all just stupid ninja pretending like you're strong, but you're not! You'll just end up like—"
"Inari." Tsunami's voice cut like a kunai.
The boy froze, lips trembling. But he didn't say anything more. He stood up from the table and stormed down the hall, slamming the door behind him.
Naruto's brows furrowed.
Tsunami bowed her head. "I'm sorry. He… doesn't handle guests well."
"It's fine," Naruto said softly. "He's just scared."
Sasuke wasn't listening anymore.
He was still stuck on that damned image—Kakashi standing tall, the Sharingan glowing in the mist like it belonged to him.
He hated how well Kakashi had used it. How casually. As though he deserved it.
Sasuke couldn't even activate his own.
He closed his eyes, his thoughts burning hotter than the fireplace nearby.
Why couldn't he awaken it?
Why was it his birthright, and yet he was still so weak?
He trained harder than anyone. More than Naruto, more than Sakura. He studied. He fought. He endured.
And still, no flicker. No glow.
Just emptiness.
Uchiha blood ran through his veins, and he still couldn't summon what was his by right.
He looked down at his hands—bruised, scraped, and trembling slightly.
His chakra still sparked unsteadily. The Fire Style jutsu Kakashi had shown him earlier was B-rank, but his problem wasn't even the complexity—it was control.
He had the affinity, the desire, the rage.
But his chakra coiled like a beast refusing its leash.
He'd spent all day outside hammering the hand seals, again and again.
And still… the flames were tiny. Pathetic.
It made him want to scream.
He glanced at Sakura—who was finishing her meal quietly, a serene, effortless calm about her as though she were already five steps ahead of them all.
Of course she was. She'd mastered the genjutsu already.
She didn't talk about it. Didn't boast. She just did.
It was infuriating.
It was impressive.
He hated how it made him feel.
Naruto suddenly burped loud enough to echo. "Ahhh… I'm stuffed."
"Classy," Sakura muttered.
Tazuna grunted. "You're lucky. Not a lot of people eat that well these days."
The table slowly quieted down, the clinking of bowls giving way to the soft crackle of the fireplace.
Sakura, still seated with her back straight and her movements precise, reached for her tea again. But this time, her eyes flicked toward the mantle above the hearth.
There was a photograph, framed, simple. A man with wild dark hair and a wide smile stood in the center, one arm wrapped around a younger Inari, the other holding up a massive fish like it was a trophy. Inari, barely older than a toddler, was beaming in the picture.
There was joy there, and safety. Something lost now.
Sakura turned her gaze to Tazuna, her voice cool and quiet. "Who's that in the photo?"
The room shifted, subtly.
Tsunami's chopsticks paused mid-air. Naruto looked up from licking the last grain of rice from his bowl.
Tazuna blinked, then followed her gaze. His expression hardened, but not unkindly. More like… he was getting ready to speak through pain.
"That was Kaiza," he said, pulling the bottle of sake a little closer, like he needed the anchor. "He was… a good man."
Tsunami's hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze cast downward.
Sakura nodded once. No apology. No softening. Just the question, the answer, the truth. That was enough.
Tazuna continued. "He wasn't a ninja, but he had the heart of one. Strong, kind, always fighting for what was right. Came to our village years ago. Fished with us. Ate with us. Fought with us, too, when Gato started sending his men."
"He was Inari's stepfather," Tsunami added, her voice barely above a whisper.
Naruto's chewing slowed, and for once, he didn't speak.
Tazuna's voice was steady. Too steady. "When Gato's thugs came, Kaiza stood up to them. Said this village deserved better. Said we weren't just dogs to be kicked around. Told Inari to always protect what mattered. And when they took him away in chains, he smiled the whole time. Even when they…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Sakura felt it.
Ding!
[Aura System]
+10 AP Gained.
(Farming Method: Listening to the ghost of a real man still walking in the hearts of others.)
There was silence again, thick and heavy. Even Naruto didn't dare break it.
Sasuke stared at the photo.
That smile. That strength. That willingness to fight when you knew you couldn't win. It was idiotic. Noble. Suicidal.
It reminded him of someone.
Of him.
The older boy. The one who used to hold Sasuke's hand when crossing the market streets in the summer. The one who always told him, "Stay close. I'll protect you."
The one who'd smiled even as his eyes wept blood.
His brother.
Not the one who had killed everyone.
The one before that.
The liar.
Sasuke stood slowly, the memory digging into his ribs like glass.
He said nothing, just walked quietly out of the room again, the door creaking as it slid closed behind him.
Outside, the wind picked up.
Tsunami stood to gather the bowls. Naruto sat, awkward and confused, staring at the doorway.
Sakura's eyes remained on the photo.
"…He smiled," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Even when they took him."
She didn't smirk.
But the candlelight caught the glint in her eyes.
Ding!
[Aura System]
+10 AP Gained.
(Farming Method: Bearing witness to legacy.)
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Always wondered why Sasuke just accepted that Kakashi had a sharingan and never thought about it more than that.