Kyojiro slashed at the empty air. His muscles protested, yet he continued. The sword moved like a knife through butter.
SWOOSH
"Another," he grunted as he moved his tired feet. He practiced his footwork despite the pain, moving along Rengoku's swordsmanship, perfecting it—engraving it on his very muscles.
Had Might Duy been there, even he would be shocked at the work ethic of Kyojiro Uchiha.Kyojiro had been practicing for the last eight hours, after all.
He trained his muscles, sprinted for endurance, and trained Full Concentration Breathing.Even though he had the lungs of a ninja, for some reason, he still couldn't use the Full Concentration Breathing for more than twenty minutes.
He winced as he remembered how he had tried it the day before—his veins burned like someone had poured molten lava on top of them.It ached for the entirety of the day, making him unable to move. Yet he persisted, training the breathing technique to its utter maximum.
'The breathing technique—the memories, they are my crutch… my path to get stronger.'
He tried to remain in the breathing mode for as long as he could. For the last week, Kyojiro had just done that.
Train the sword. Train the breathing technique. And then train the muscles.
Then rinse and repeat.
He sat down finally, the soft grass clashing against his sweating skin. His eyes—the Sharingan—revolved dangerously as he once again took in a mouthful of air.
'Full Concentration Breathing'. His eyes widened at the familiar rush of vitality. For that short moment, he almost didn't feel like he had trained the whole day.
His muscles pulsed, his blood rushed with the newfound oxygen. Yet Kyojiro didn't pause. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened. 'I still don't know how the breathing technique works… how can oxygen make me so strong?'
Kyojiro went through the fights he had fought, the strength he had gained. Even a Jonin had trouble against him when his base speed was Chunin.Were he to better his Taijutsu, he couldn't even imagine how strong he would become.
At the thought of that strength, his heart started coursing.
THUMP
THUMP
'I have always dreamed about this strength. For seventeen years of my life, I was nothing—yet now, with this newfound talent, there is nobody—not even Madara—who can stop me now.'
Before he could further continue his research, his ears twitched. 'Someone is coming.'
Living at the outskirts of the Uchiha compound, Kyojiro was used to being unnoticed. Yet he could tell just by the speed of the ninja rushing at him—
Chunin. Fast, even among the elite ones.
He opened his eyes, his one Tomoe Sharingan revolving dangerously. His eyes caught the figure.
'Old… someone in their thirties… but not threatening.' The man stopped two yards away from him. Seeing Kyojiro's Sharingan open, the man too opened his own.
SHING
Three Tomoe Sharingan met the one Tomoe, and the man smirked as if he had won some hidden battle.His gruff and monotone voice rang out, "Uchiha Setsuna is calling you. Your grandfather will be there too. Be at the house in fifteen minutes."
He didn't pause for a second, rushing off the same way he had arrived.
Kyojiro sighed as he looked at the retreating Jonin. Despite the maturity, something unexpected coursed within him.'If I fight him at my full strength… can I win?'
Even though Kyojiro was a transmigrator, living with the Uchiha for seventeen years, he couldn't help but treat the Sharingan levels as hierarchy.
'Yet now I know… my sword—it can cut through any eye.'
As for Uchiha Setsuna… Kyojiro couldn't help but sigh....
The room smelled of incense and fire. Four men, old and experienced, sat in a horizontal order.Yet the one at the center was different. Despite his years, everybody looked towards him with unmatched respect.
Long white hair framed the aging wrinkles of his skin. Despite his livid chakra, he remained poised and elegant.
Uchiha Setsuna was simply gazing at the young man in front of him.
Kyojiro Uchiha—an anomaly, and within his very view, a disrespect to the clan.
A genetic disorder that turned his hair blond and red. Despite its resemblance to fire, Uchiha Setsuna hated it. Something about it sent chills down his spine.
The man—a Chunin—was currently bowing at the elder.
"Look up, Kyojiro," he spoke authoritatively.
Kyojiro turned upwards, locking eyes with Setsuna. "Why have I been called here, if I may ask?" His voice was respectful.
Turning towards one of the older men sitting at the side, Kyojiro nodded in respect. "Grandfather."
Yet the man turned away with a huff. Kyojiro didn't truly blame him for it. His daughter—Kyojiro's mother—had been talented, yet she rebelled.
Marrying a civilian Uchiha despite her father's wishes. So when Kyojiro was found to have a genetic defect and a lack of talent,his grandfather couldn't help but start hating him.
'I don't care now… I am old enough to not expect anything of you.'
Setsuna hummed before speaking. "I have read your report. A fireball that defeated the Explosion Release of the Iwa," he spoke grimly. "It seems despite your… strangeness, you are an Uchiha after all."
Kyojiro nodded. "Thank you," his face completely stoic. 'Not that I really care about you old geezers.'
Setsuna spoke as if addressing an insect. "We Uchiha always reward excellence. Select any one B-rank Jutsu from our library."
Kyojiro couldn't help but widen his eyes. There was a reason he hadn't learned more than the Fireball Jutsu.The Uchiha only rewarded those who showed excellence, and Kyojiro already had a bad start.
Setsuna waved his hand and continued, "However, the point of this meeting is different." He leaned forward, interest finally visible in his eyes. "I heard the Hokage wanted you to join Minato Namikaze's team."
Kyojiro nodded hesitantly. He hadn't responded to Hiruzen despite the week that had passed.
Setsuna spoke with a smirk. "It's simple. Join the team and win Hiruzen's trust," he added confidently. "As an Uchiha, that's your basic duty."
'Fuck…'