The dawn sun bled red across the Uchiha compound, painting the training grounds in crimson light. The clang of steel echoed through the courtyards as warriors sparred, their kunai flashing in arcs of firelight. Genin practiced the Great Fireball, their chakra shaping raw infernos, while older shinobi drilled formations with ruthless precision.
Ash hung in the morning air like incense, a reminder that every day in the Sengoku Era began with the scent of war.
But today, the clan's eyes turned not toward the battlefield. Today, all whispers and stares gathered at the main training ground—because Madara Uchiha, the clan's prodigy and unchallenged genius, had called his son to stand before him.
---
A Father's Test
Madara stood in the center of the ground, tall and unyielding, his Sharingan faintly active even before combat began. His presence was a weight that pressed against every chest, a reminder of why even seasoned warriors bowed when he entered a hall.
"Keiji," Madara said, his tone measured but carrying across the grounds with ease. "You have shown us glimpses of power. But I want to see for myself. Today, you will prove your worth."
Clan members murmured with anticipation. Madara rarely sparred with anyone outside the battlefield. To fight him was to be tested against fire itself.
Keiji stepped forward, his stomach tight but his eyes steady. Gengar hovered at his side, its jagged grin wicked, its ruby eyes sparkling with mischief.
Unohana and Izuna stood near the edge, watching keenly. Tajima crossed his arms, saying nothing, but a faint nod revealed his pride.
Keiji bowed. "I'll do my best, Father."
Madara's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Do not hold back. Show me the true measure of your power."
---
The Spar Begins
The signal was given.
Madara moved first.
In a blur, he closed the distance, kunai flashing toward Keiji's throat. The boy's instincts screamed—he dropped low, his chakra surging.
"Fire Style: Agni's Roar!"
A vortex of spiraling flame burst from Keiji's mouth, wider and hotter than any Fireball. The flames curled like a divine conflagration, licking skyward in a swirling dance.
The crowd gasped.
"What jutsu is that?!"
"Not in our scrolls—"
Madara darted through the flames, his Sharingan mapping every curve of fire. "Interesting. Already reshaping our basics."
---
Lightning and Shadow
Keiji's hands blurred through seals. His chakra flared violently, humming in the air.
"Lightning Style: Raijin's Strike!"
Bolts of jagged lightning erupted from his palm, striking the ground in chaotic patterns. Unlike Chidori's precision, this storm was untamed, erratic, dangerous.
Madara vaulted above the strikes, Sharingan whirling. "Such density… and creativity."
But then the shadows stirred.
Gengar vanished beneath the earth, laughter echoing faintly. A grin appeared behind Madara, then beside him, then directly below. Illusions multiplied, crimson eyes glaring from every direction.
Madara's blade cut through one, only for it to vanish. For the first time, his Sharingan faltered—not in speed, but in comprehension.
Unohana's eyes narrowed. "Even Madara struggles. The ghost dances beyond his sight…"
---
The Yin Arts
Keiji pressed the advantage. His fingers formed new seals, chakra coiling darkly.
"Yin Release: Dreamless Sleep!"
A wave of invisible chakra rippled outward, targeting Madara's mind, dragging at his consciousness like the lull of death.
Madara's eyes snapped wide, his Sharingan blazing like fire. With raw willpower, he shattered the genjutsu. His lips tightened. "You craft techniques from fragments of myth…"
The crowd erupted in awe.
"He invented that?!"
"Such control—unreal for his age!"
---
Fire Meets Ghost
Madara responded swiftly, his own seals a blur. "Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame!"
A tidal wave of fire roared forward, scorching the earth.
Keiji's heart pounded. He couldn't stop that—but he wasn't alone.
"Gengar!"
The ghost cackled, shadows surging upward. The inferno split in two, half swallowed by darkness. Heat licked Keiji's skin, but he was spared annihilation.
He countered instantly.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Garuda Dance!"
Dozens of blazing birds burst from his mouth, wings trailing sparks as they dove at Madara. Each strike detonated like talons of flame.
Madara shielded himself with raw chakra, his eyes narrowing. "Another new form?"
The Uchiha spectators could barely breathe.
---
The Final Clash
The ground quaked as father and son clashed at the center.
Steel rang. Flames roared. Lightning danced. Shadows coiled. Gengar's laughter echoed, its hands snatching at Madara's kunai, tugging his cloak, forcing him to divide his attention.
Keiji's chakra surged higher, his Sharingan spinning with clarity—three tomoe now blazing in both eyes.
"Fire and Lightning Combination: Indra's Wrath!"
A beam of thunder-fire erupted from his hands, tearing across the field like the wrath of a god.
Madara's Susanoo ribcage snapped into existence, deflecting the brunt of the blast. The ground split, stone charred black.
When the smoke cleared, Madara's eyes met Keiji's. And for the first time, pride softened his face.
---
Shocked Silence
The Uchiha compound fell into stunned silence.
Then Izuna burst out laughing, clapping his hands. "Marvelous! He fights like a veteran!"
Tajima's smirk deepened, eyes sharp. "The bloodline strengthens again."
Unohana's lips curved faintly, though her gaze held quiet warmth. He's already surpassed so much…
Gengar floated smugly at Keiji's side, its grin practically splitting its face.
---
Medical Arts Begin
But before the crowd could disperse, Unohana stepped forward.
"Enough," she said firmly. "You've seen his strength. Now you will see the balance of that strength."
The warriors blinked. "Balance?"
Unohana's chakra glowed faint green as she raised her hand. Mystical Palm bloomed over her fingers, closing minor cuts from training. "Power is incomplete without the ability to heal. From this day, you will learn medical ninjutsu—not only Keiji, but all of you."
The clan shifted uneasily. Healing was seen as a lesser path, left to Uzumaki and Senju medics. But under Unohana's gaze, none dared refuse.
---
Keiji Learns to Heal
Unohana guided Keiji's hands. His chakra faltered at first—his raw energy too volatile for delicate healing. But Keiji closed his eyes, reaching deeper. Fragments from his past life surfaced: Ayurveda's subtle flow of prana, Eastern ki techniques, even scraps of medical ninjutsu he remembered from another world.
He exhaled. His chakra steadied.
"Medical Ninjutsu: Chakra Sūtra Threads!"
Threads of glowing chakra extended from his fingertips, stitching a wound closed with seamless precision. Flesh fused without scars.
The clan gasped. Unohana's eyes widened. "You… created this?"
Keiji, sweating, nodded. "It just… came to me."
Not finished, he pressed further.
"Medical Ninjutsu: Prana Purification!"
Black mist seeped from a poisoned test animal as toxins were expelled. The creature's breathing steadied.
Unohana's lips parted in genuine shock. "That was no technique from any scroll I've ever seen."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"He invents healing arts too?"
"Unbelievable…"
---
Teaching the Clan
Unohana directed training, while Keiji's creations inspired new methods. Warriors struggled—healing demanded precision their battle styles lacked. Yet even small progress sparked pride.
Keiji pressed on, experimenting.
"Medical Ninjutsu: Lotus Seal Technique!"—a glowing chakra lotus blossomed over wounds, accelerating recovery.
"Medical Ninjutsu: Ashvin Twins' Blessing!"—a two-person jutsu doubling efficiency when partners linked chakra.
Unohana watched, awe in her usually unreadable eyes. "You are rewriting the art of healing, Keiji."
---
Evening Reflections
By nightfall, exhaustion weighed on every body. The clan dispersed, their whispers now tinged not only with awe but reverence.
Madara approached his son, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Remember this. You are not only Uchiha. You are something more. Do not forget it."
Keiji bowed his head, breath ragged but heart alight.
Unohana's gaze softened. "Rest, Keiji. Tomorrow, we continue."
Gengar's shadow curled protectively around him, humming a ghostly lullaby.
Above, the moonlight gleamed silver. But in the treeline, hidden eyes watched once more—enemy shinobi, noting every spark of fire, every flicker of lightning, every shadow that guarded the boy who might one day change the world.
War was coming. And with it, the true test of Keiji's bond with his ghost.
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End of the Chapter
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