The courtyard of the Uchiha stronghold was quiet in the gray dawn. Mist clung to the ground, carrying the faint smell of damp earth and burned wood from the trainings of yesterday. At the center of the yard stood Tajima Uchiha—once the fiercest warrior of the clan, now a man whose mere stance demanded silence.
Keiji stepped into the courtyard, Gengar trailing behind him with its eerie grin dimmed to a watchful glow. His body still ached from Unohana's kenjutsu drills and Izuna's lightning lessons, but today was different. Today, his grandfather was the one standing across from him.
Tajima's gaze was sharp as a blade, his scarred face unreadable. His arms crossed over his chest, he finally spoke:
"You've learned ninjutsu from your father. Swordplay and healing from your mother. Tricks of lightning from Izuna. But none of it matters if your body fails. Chakra reserves, talent, even bloodline—worthless without stamina."
Keiji bowed his head, his heart beating faster. "Yes, Grandfather."
"Then let's begin."
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The First Ordeal – Endless Endurance
Tajima gestured toward the perimeter wall of the compound. His voice was flat, cold.
"Run. Until I tell you to stop."
Keiji blinked. "How many laps?"
"Until your legs break. Then crawl. Until your arms break. Then drag yourself. You will not stop until your spirit does."
The command struck harder than any weapon. Keiji grit his teeth, nodded, and started running.
The first ten laps came easily. His muscles warmed, his chakra guided each step. By twenty, his breathing grew harsher. By forty, his lungs screamed, calves burning like fire. Sweat poured from his forehead, blinding him.
Tajima's voice rang out as he passed. "Good. This is only the beginning."
By sixty laps, his body quivered violently. His legs felt like stone, every step an agony. His vision blurred, edges darkening.
"Don't… help me," Keiji rasped when Gengar floated close, glowing with concern. "If I fall here, I'll never rise stronger."
His will alone pushed him forward.
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The Second Ordeal – Iron Strikes
When Keiji finally stumbled against the wall, gasping, Tajima's voice cut like a whip.
"Stand."
Keiji groaned but obeyed. His body shook as if he were made of fragile glass.
Without warning, Tajima's hand lashed out—an open palm crashing into Keiji's chest. The boy flew backward, skidding across dirt.
"Again."
Keiji staggered upright, teeth clenched. Another strike hurled him down.
"Again."
Over and over. Strikes to the chest, to the ribs, to the shoulders. Never killing blows, but enough to shatter willpower. Blood trickled from his lip. His chest felt caved in, his arms screamed when he pushed himself upright.
Finally, Tajima paused, speaking low.
"Do you know why I do this?"
Keiji spat blood. "To… make me stronger?"
"No." Tajima's eyes narrowed, blazing like fire. "Because only when a warrior is broken does his true strength surface. Enemies won't wait for you to recover. If you bear our blood, you must fight even when your body is finished."
The words cut deeper than his strikes.
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The Third Ordeal – The Taijutsu Gauntlet
By noon, whispers had spread through the compound. Elders, warriors, even Madara and Izuna gathered silently at the courtyard's edge to watch.
Tajima barked orders. Wooden spears flew toward Keiji, forcing him to dodge despite trembling limbs. Dummies were set up, and he was told to strike until his knuckles split open. One by one, older Uchiha youths entered to spar him—relentless, merciless.
Keiji's Sharingan flared by instinct, three tomoe spinning. He could predict movements, dodge, counter.
"NO SHARINGAN!" Tajima roared. "Your eyes are a gift. But your body must be a weapon. Close them if you must!"
Keiji forced the dojutsu away. His body screamed in protest. Fists crashed into his ribs, kicks sent him reeling, yet he answered each with his own clumsy strikes.
By the fifteenth opponent, his arms barely rose to guard. By the twentieth, he staggered blind with pain. Yet his legs refused to kneel.
Finally, Tajima raised his hand. "Enough."
The gauntlet ended, but the silence of the watching clan was deafening.
---
The Final Ordeal – Collapse
Keiji dropped to his knees, chest heaving like a forge bellows. His vision swam. His entire being begged him to stop.
"Stand, boy," Tajima commanded. "One last time."
Keiji tried. His body shook, collapsing back into the dirt.
Gengar rushed forward, ghostly eyes burning with alarm. But Tajima raised his hand. "Leave him. This is his trial."
The dirt tasted of blood and sweat. The world dimmed at the edges. Keiji's heartbeat thundered in his ears, a war drum keeping time with his will.
I won't… fail…
Darkness claimed him.
---
Awakening
When Keiji awoke, the sky was painted in crimson and gold. The courtyard was empty save for the family who mattered most. Father. Uncle.Mother. Grandfather.
Every nerve in his body burned—but something had changed.
His chakra… it flowed clearer, sharper, like molten metal through reforged veins. His chakra network pulsed stronger, wider, as if reborn. His very body hummed with renewed vitality.
He staggered to sit upright, shock dawning on his face.
Madara's eyes narrowed. "His network… it's thicker. His reserves expanded."
Unohana's hands glowed with healing chakra as she brushed over him. Her expression hardened in surprise. "Not just expanded. Reinforced. The strain reshaped his body."
Izuna whistled. "The brat collapsed weaker than a child… and woke up forged like steel."
Finally, Tajima stepped forward, his voice heavy with grim pride. "This is why I broke you. Under merciless pressure, iron becomes a blade. Keiji, today you died… and were reborn. From now on, your stamina will never betray you."
Keiji stared at his hands, trembling—not with weakness, but from the storm of power surging within. His heart pounded wildly. "I… feel stronger than ever."
Gengar floated beside him, eyes glowing proudly.
Keiji looked skyward. His spirit roared with new strength. Yet deep inside, something else stirred. His chakra network throbbed with an unfamiliar beat—like something darker, deeper, waiting to unfurl.
And for a fleeting instant, his soul shivered as though another presence—silent and ancient—had brushed against him.
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End of the Chapter
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