The wind off the sea was brisk, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of rain. One year had passed since the Uchiha's exile, and the artificial island—four times the size of the original Turtle—was now a living, growing settlement. The stone was still raw in places, but fields were being carved from the meteorite rock, and the clan's laughter echoed over the new land.
Mali stood at the island's edge, watching the horizon. His grandfather's power had changed everything: for a month, the sky had rained fire, and now the Uchiha had a home no one could take from them. But a home needed more than stone. The soil was thin, the water brackish, and the clan's supplies were running low. They needed seeds, tools, animals—everything a true village required.
Mali called his most trusted: Yuto, bold and sharp-eyed; Hana, quick-witted and even quicker with a blade; and Shin, whose calm steadied any storm. You three, come with me. We'll go to the nearest market, buy what we need, and be back before the next storm hits.
The journey was long, the sea restless beneath their small boat. Mali sat at the prow, eyes closed, feeling the gentle swirl of chakra and Qi within him. He had grown—taller, stronger, his senses sharper than ever. The teachings of his past life and the discipline of the Uchiha blended in him, making him something new.
They reached the mainland market at dawn, the sky streaked with gold. The port was busy, full of traders, fishermen, and the occasional shinobi. Mali pulled his hood low, masking his chakra as best he could. The others followed, blending into the crowd.
They moved quickly, buying sacks of rice, crates of vegetables, bundles of tools, and even a pair of goats. Mali's eyes scanned the crowd, always alert. He felt a flicker of chakra—strong, disciplined, familiar. Two women stood at a stall, their posture and presence unmistakable: Samui and Tarui, kunoichi of the Hidden Cloud.
Samui was tall, blonde, her gaze cool and assessing. Tarui, shorter and sharper, watched the crowd with a predator's focus. Mali's heart pounded. He signaled to his team—stay close, stay quiet.
But as they loaded their supplies, Samui's eyes met Mali's. She frowned, sensing something off. You're not from around here, are you?
Mali smiled, calm. Just a trader, passing through.
Tarui stepped closer, suspicion in her eyes. You smell like salt and fire. What village are you from?
Mali's Sharingan flickered beneath his hood—just for an instant. The world slowed, colors sharpening, chakra threads glowing in the air. He met Samui's gaze, letting the Eye of Hypnotism do its work. A gentle genjutsu, subtle and precise, slipped into her mind.
We're just merchants, Mali said softly. You don't need to remember us. You don't need to ask any more questions.
Samui blinked, her suspicion fading. Tarui frowned, confused, but Mali's gaze caught hers as well. The Sharingan's power was overwhelming here—these were skilled kunoichi, but not prepared for Uchiha illusion.
You're just merchants, Tarui echoed, her voice hollow.
Mali nodded, satisfied. His team finished loading the supplies—seeds, tools, animals, even rare medicinal herbs. They moved through the market, picking up anything the clan might need. Not a single coin changed hands. Every merchant smiled, nodded, and waved them along, the Sharingan's hypnotic suggestion clouding their minds.
As they left, Mali glanced back at Samui and Tarui. They stood in the market, dazed, already forgetting the faces of the strangers who had passed through.
On the boat home, Yuto whistled, impressed. That was risky, boss. What if they remember?
Mali shook his head. They won't. Not unless another Uchiha comes along and breaks the genjutsu. Besides, we needed this.
Hana grinned, stroking the goat's head. I could get used to shopping like this.
Shin was quiet, but his eyes were troubled. We can't do this forever, Mali. The world will notice.
Mali nodded, watching the horizon. I know. But for now, we survive.
They returned to the island as the sun set, their boat heavy with supplies. The clan gathered to greet them, faces alight with hope. Seeds were planted, wells dug, and the goats became the start of a new herd. Mali's grandfather watched it all, pride and worry in his eyes.
That night, Mali sat with Raigen by the fire. The old man's vision was back, his Sharingan gleaming in the darkness.
You used the Eye, didn't you? Raigen asked.
Mali nodded. We needed what they had. No one was hurt.
Raigen smiled, weary but proud. Power is a tool, Mali. Use it well, and remember the cost.
Mali looked at the stars, the new land stretching out before him. The Uchiha were building something new—stone by stone, seed by seed, memory by memory. And for now, at least, they had everything they needed.