The night was a torrent of relentless thoughts. Young Itachi remained on his bed, but his analytical mind refused to rest for even a second. What is chakra? How is it generated? Why does it feel like I can manipulate it like an invisible muscle?
He recalled Fugaku's words from earlier:
"Tomorrow, I will teach you a breathing technique. You are only three years old. You must not rush."
But the idea of waiting a single day felt unbearable. This new universe was calling to him, demanding answers to a million questions.
At dawn, Fugaku led him to a sunlit clearing in the garden, where the morning light cast a warm glow on the leaves.
"Listen, Itachi," his father began. "Every shinobi begins with breath. Breathe deeply. Feel the energy around you. With every inhalation, the chakra within you awakens and expands. When your reserves are empty, the breath fills you once more."
It was a simple exercise: inhale, concentrate, feel. But as he practiced, Itachi perceived something extraordinary. It wasn't just air filling his lungs. It was as if every molecule of oxygen carried an energetic pulse that, upon mixing with his body, directly nourished his chakra.
Breathing is energy recovery. Not just biological, but also… spiritual.
For hours, he followed the rhythm his father set. Fugaku watched in silence, satisfied that the boy could maintain such focus. But there was no calm in Itachi's mind—only a storm of theories.
If breathing recovers chakra… does that mean my body produces it by processing the air? he reflected. And what if it's not just air? What about water? Fire… or even electricity?
Hypotheses flooded his thoughts. If he could extract energy directly from the elements, he could accelerate his chakra regeneration without relying on rest or food.
Could I absorb electricity? Would that make me a natural lightning user?
Why is the Uchiha clan so tied to fire and not to wind? Wind is just as omnipresent.
That very afternoon, he decided to experiment. He found a place where the wind blew fiercely—a hill near the river. He sat down, formed the hand seal for concentration, and began to reverse his chakra flow. Instead of pushing it outward, as for a fire jutsu, he tried to pull it inward, attempting to draw energy from the air into his hands and guide the current backward through his body's pathways.
The first attempt was a failure. He only felt a cold numbness in his hands and a sudden wave of dizziness.
No, that's not right… I have to follow the flow like a river coming in, not going out.
He tried again, this time visualizing the wind as particles of raw energy that could merge with his chakra. And then it happened. An invisible current traveled up his arm, a sensation like a faint electric tingle. It lasted only an instant, but he knew: he had absorbed something.
His heart leaped.
It works! I can absorb energy from the environment! I'm not limited to just producing it naturally!
He wanted to repeat it again and again, to perfect it, to understand it. But the effort drained him rapidly. His small body trembled; his chakra pathways burned with strain. He ended up collapsed in the grass, utterly exhausted but grinning like a madman.
He had discovered a new principle: chakra wasn't only generated within the body… it could also be extracted from the world outside.
The wind continued to blow over him, and though his eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, his excitement overpowered his need for sleep.
"If I can absorb… then I can evolve," he whispered, before finally succumbing to slumber.
Exhausted from the training, his plans for the future crystallized. First, I need to learn every jutsu I can and expand my chakra reserves. I must acquire the Shadow Clone Jutsu—imagine being able to study and practice multiple things at once. Teleportation… awakening the Mangekyo Sharingan… He needed a multi-year plan for the clan's destruction and the other chaotic events to come. He couldn't remember the exact timeline, but not having Sasuke as a brother was an unexpected relief, a variable he didn't have to worry about.
Oh, and I can't forget about those old grouches in Root.