Moonlight spilled through the gaps in the wooden corridors of the Uchiha compound, weaving silver threads across the stone paths and dappling the ground with soft glows.
Makoto Uchiha hugged a stack of wrapped-up "supplies," his steps light and quick. As he passed under the gate carved with the fan crest, his shoes tapped out a soft da-da on the stones.
"Where you off to, little Makoto?"
The pancake stall on the corner was still open. A warm yellow glow flickered from the oil lamp hanging on a bamboo pole. Uchiha Tetsubi, apron tied snug, flipped the last pancake off the griddle with his spatula. Oil popped and sizzled loud in the quiet night.
He looked up, saw Makoto, and his wrinkled face broke into a grin. "Fresh off the grill—want one?"
Makoto paused. Before his memories fully came back, he'd gotten along great with the clan folks.
The bundles in his arms clinked softly as the "props" shifted.
"Thanks, Uncle Tetsubi." Makoto took the offered pancake. His fingers brushed the warm, greasy paper—charcoal and batter smells hitting him like a hug.
Tetsubi waved it off and stuffed two more into Makoto's arms, rough thumb grazing his hand. "Take 'em. You're lugging all that junk—you're definitely up to no good again. Stay safe, kid."
Makoto paid with a smile and turned to leave when the tea shop lady next door poked her head out. "Makoto, hang on a sec."
A bamboo tray held three red bean mochi, dusted with powdered sugar, glowing soft under the night lights.
"Freshly steamed—your favorite." She shoved the tray into his already-full arms and tapped his forehead. "Don't stay out too late. Your family'll worry."
His load got heavier. He peeked into the tea shop—old timers waved, pipe embers blinking like fireflies.
Walking through the Uchiha streets, kids chased after him, stuffing candy and snacks into his pockets, squealing in baby voices: "Makoto-nii!"
As a certified head-patter of the village, Makoto ruffled each of their heads.
Most of these faces belonged to regular Uchiha folks—running little shops in the compound their whole lives, but they remembered what he liked, stopped to chat when he passed, let him listen to the elders' old mission flop stories.
In a clan where even walking felt stiff and cold, a smiling Uchiha was rare. The kid who squatted by the pancake stall cracking up at Uncle Tetsubi's embarrassing ninja tales, who calmed crying grandbabies for the tea shop lady, who never forgot sunflower seeds for the gossiping old men—that Makoto had long ago become the warmest light in their hearts.
By the time he left the compound, his prop bag was surrounded by a buffet of snacks.
Pancake steam seeped through the paper, mixing with the sweet red bean scent, swirling in the night breeze.
He'd skipped dinner, planning to hit up Ichiraku Ramen or BBQ Q. Looked like that'd wait.
Out of the compound, Konoha's streetlights flickered on one by one—like someone spilled a bucket of stars across the village.
Makoto chomped a pancake while speed-walking toward Hokage Rock, hot breath mixing with cool night air down his collar.
The massive shadow of Hokage Rock loomed taller in the dark, four stone faces carved sharp under moonlight.
At the village's highest point, Makoto bit into half a mochi, tied the rope tight to a nearby tree, took a deep breath—and slid down.
Night wind whipped his clothes like a little flag snapping in the breeze.
Hundreds of feet of empty air below, Konoha's lights shrunk to tiny specks. His heart pounded, knuckles white from gripping. Okay, maybe I'm a little scared of heights...
Then he just shut his eyes. If I can't see it, it ain't high.
He inched down slow until his hands felt the rough stone of the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen's cheek.
"Let's start with you."
Makoto's lips curled up. When it came to "decorating" the so-called "strongest Hokage," his creative juices were flowing. Professional level—love what you do, master what you love.
Once he finished the makeover, he got used to the height. He even built a little hammock-bed on top of Hiruzen's head to chill for a bit.
Lying there swaying, he could see all of Konoha spread out below like a sea of lights. Ichiraku's warm glow stood out like a stubborn little star in the dark.
Makoto munched his mochi, watched the view, and suddenly thought sleeping on the Third Hokage's head felt comfier than his bed at home.
After a quick rest, he hopped up and got back to "makeup" duty.
...
In the Hokage's office, the pipe was burning hot.
Third Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen held his well-worn pipe with bony fingers, gray smoke curling from his lips into a cloud in front of him.
He'd known about Makoto's antics for hours—via crystal ball and ANBU reports—but his eyes stayed locked on the Uchiha compound.
Eyelids half-dropped, he puffed away, the office thick with smoke, mind who-knows-where.
BAM!
Danzo Shimura barged in without knocking, black robes whipping up a cold gust.
He'd barely stopped when the smoke hit him—he coughed hard, his one visible eye glaring daggers.
"Hiruzen, this is proof of the Uchiha's innate evil! Defacing the Hokage Rock to undermine the legacy of past leaders!"
"This is blatant provocation! A declaration of war on the entire village!!"
At this point, Naruto hadn't even given his dad a makeover yet—the Hokage Rock was still pristine. Super rare.
Since the village was founded, no one had ever pulled something this wild.
Hiruzen glanced at Danzo, then looked back down, puffing away. Ash tapped off the pipe onto the desk.
He'd known Danzo for decades—one butt-pucker and he knew what kind of fart was coming.
No response. His gaze stayed on the Uchiha side. Smoke rings drifted lazily from his nose.
Neither sent anyone to stop Makoto. In their eyes, the kid up there was just a pawn—disposable.
Patrolling Konoha, Uchiha ANBU Tetsuhuo suddenly froze, staring at Hokage Rock. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, voice shaking.
"That... that's Makoto?!"
His partner Inaka followed his gaze—the handbook in his hand clattered to the ground.
He rubbed his eyes hard. Still there—the kid vandalizing the Third Hokage's face, bright colors screaming under the moon.
"He's lost his mind... the kid's gone full psycho!" Inaka growled low.
Uchiha Yashiro's face went dark. He grabbed both their arms, fingers digging in. "Keep it quiet!"
"Back to the compound—report to the clan head. Now." His voice dropped. "The Third's definitely seen this. This ain't our call anymore."
Before he finished, the three blurred into black streaks, racing toward the Uchiha compound—any later, and all hell would break loose.
They crashed through the clan leader's gate with a bang.
Uchiha Fugaku was reviewing clan scrolls—startled, his brush dragged a long ink streak across the page.
"Clan head! Makoto... Makoto's defacing Hokage Rock!"
Fugaku shot up, chair sliding back half a foot.
He stared at them, face grim, brain buzzing—this was slapping the Hokage faction in the face in front of the whole village!
Danzo, who'd always seen the Uchiha as a thorn in his side, wouldn't let this slide.
Fists clenched, knuckles white—Makoto had awakened the Sharingan at two and a half. He was the clan's future. No way anything happened to him.
Fugaku started toward the Hokage building, then paused at the door, brow furrowed. Going alone? Not enough weight...
Smart move, Fugaku. After a beat, he decided: emergency clan meeting. Rally every Uchiha powerhouse—together.
...
The clan meeting hall's charcoal brazier crackled.
Elders sat in a circle.
"It's just kid graffiti, a prank. Why the panic?"
"Can't give your kid special treatment, Fugaku." The Third Elder sipped tea, cup clinking on the table. "You know what bringing a mob to the Hokage building could spark?"
Second Elder's voice was low: "He's our clansman. No matter the mistake, we don't let outsiders touch him."
Fugaku cut in fast: "Makoto awakened his Sharingan today."
CLANG!
Third Elder's cup smashed into the brazier—scalding tea splashed his hand red, but he didn't flinch, eyes bulging like bells.
"What did you say?" The Great Elder, in his gray robe, silent till now, stood up sharp. "Two and a half... Sharingan?!"
Fugaku nodded slow.
Great Elder slammed the table—dust fell from the beams. "What are you waiting for?! Call every fighter in the clan!"
"This kid's got Hokage potential!" Third Elder roared, forgetting his burned hand and earlier sarcasm. "Anyone wants to touch him? They'll have to go through these old geezers' blades first!"