Chapter 3 — Three Sentences to Make an Uchiha Awaken the Sharingan! Clang!
"Heart of Steel"—a powerful item from a certain game.
Its effect was simple yet terrifying: the harder you fought, the stronger you became.
Uchiha Ci knew this one far too well.
He was a veteran of over ten thousand matches in League Brawl, a proud level 7 "Iron Gate Sion" main.
His playstyle was direct and suicidal—charge in, die, and become stronger.
Every hit he took was another step toward victory. You beat him down? Congratulations, you just gave big bro another stack of power!
The more damage he sustains, the tankier he became!
And now—just when his grand "die-for-insurance" plan was about to unfold—this "Heart of Steel" talent appeared out of nowhere.
...He could only pray it wouldn't mess up his goal of dying gloriously.
Uchiha Ci's face remained expressionless, but deep inside, unease began to stir.
He didn't fully understand how this "talent" worked. There was no instruction manual, no explanation—only that eerie metallic sound that still echoed in his skull.
He could only push it aside for now.
What truly mattered was securing a spot on the upcoming war mission Elder Uchiha Setsuna had just announced.
If he could sneak onto the battlefield before the talent started acting up, perhaps an Iwagakure or Sunagakure shinobi could kindly send him to the afterlife. Then the Will of Heaven could take care of the rest.
Insurance payout, mission complete, glorious death achieved.
Perfect plan.
Still, the ominous feeling in his chest refused to fade.
And when he turned slightly to his side, he immediately realized why— right beside him stood that smiling devil, Uchiha Shisui, looking as bright and wholesome as the village's beloved hero.
"Uchiha Ci," Shisui said softly, his tone almost saintly, "you don't have to worry. I'll take the Elder's mission instead! You should stay and train within the clan."
A cold chill ran down Ci's spine.
Sweat prickled his forehead.
Brother, please, I beg you—
Why aren't you pestering Fugaku's son?
Why are you so obsessed with me!?
Before Shisui could react, Uchiha Ci suddenly sprang out from the crowd like a startled cat.
He raised his hand high and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Elder!"
"To restore the glory of the Uchiha—this is my duty!"
"I am not afraid of danger! Please, allow me to go to the battlefield!"
His voice echoed through the entire hall, clear and impassioned.
His arm was raised high, his face filled with the conviction of a martyr:
> "Neither the torrential rain of the Land of Rain, nor the warm and fragrant hot springs of the Land of Hot Water, can shake my resolve to dedicate everything to the Uchiha clan!"
> "If someone must be sacrificed—
then let that person... be me!"
For a brief moment, silence filled the hall.
Every Uchiha turned to look at him.
Some with awe. Some with curiosity. Some with pity.
Who was this kid?
Whose subordinate had such guts?
Even Shisui froze in disbelief. "Ci-kun, you—"
Before he could stop him, Ci had already delivered a speech so moving it made Shisui's chest ache.
In Shisui's eyes, Uchiha Ci wasn't just another peer anymore—he was a comrade who shared his ideals. Someone he could trust with his back on the battlefield.
But now...
He was volunteering to die?
A hollow ache spread in Shisui's heart.
Pain he hadn't felt in years welled up, sharp and bitter.
Ah… So this is what it feels like to lose a comrade.
His hands trembled. His vision blurred.
And in that instant, his eyes—tempered by conviction and grief—flashed scarlet.
A single tomoe spun slowly into existence.
The catalyst: the pain of losing a friend.
Destiny, it seemed, enjoyed cruel jokes.
---
"Pathetic."
A cold, dismissive voice sliced through the air like a blade.
Elder Uchiha Setsuna frowned slightly, glaring down from the stage. Where had this fool crawled out from?
A Uchiha who hadn't even awakened his Sharingan? That wasn't a warrior—it was dead weight.
The hall fell silent again.
Uchiha Ci froze, mid-speech.
The proud expression on his face stiffened.
The awkwardness in the air was so thick it could suffocate a man. You could practically hear the sound of his pride shattering into pieces.
>[Uchiha Setsuna has looked down on you.]
In that moment, a crimson mark flashed before Ci's eyes— so bright it nearly covered the old man's entire face.
Only those cold, disdainful eyes shone through, searing into his mind like fire.
A hot wave of anger surged up from his chest.
Fine, maybe I am trash right now!
But old man, do you really have to rub salt in my wounds!?
If you break my wings—
Then I'll burn your heaven to ashes!
"Elder!" Ci suddenly stepped forward again, his tone sharper, his expression hardening.
"This isn't about being trash or not!"
His voice rang clear, filled with defiance.
"Yes, I admit I haven't awakened my Sharingan yet! But low-ranked shinobi aren't assigned to the front lines anyway! They fight at the outskirts—supporting the main force!"
"And besides—every other clan has already sent their genin to the Land of Rain!
If the Uchiha refuse, won't the others start looking down on us!?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
His reasoning… wasn't wrong.
But the problem was—
He had just talked back to the Uchiha Elder.
The same Elder who once tried to assassinate the Second Hokage.
The hawk faction's ruthless leader.
A man whose power could be summed up in four words— Authority. Might. Absolute. Dominance.
And this kid just challenged him head-on!?
Where did he get that kind of courage!?
Setsuna's expression darkened, a dangerous chill spreading across the hall.
Had he spoiled this brat by talking too much?
A genin without even a Sharingan, daring to talk back to him?
But then, a thought flickered in his mind.
This… was exactly the kind of youth he needed.
As the leader of the hawk faction, Setsuna's true purpose wasn't just to command—it was to cultivate loyal radicals within the clan.
Talent was secondary. What mattered was spirit—the kind of reckless, fanatical conviction that burned hotter than reason.
Especially the kind who'd shout "For the Clan!" while charging headfirst into a hail of kunai.
That was the ideal kind of subordinate.
And this Uchiha Ci… was exactly that type.
If a coup ever occurred, Setsuna mused gleefully, this one would definitely be the first to raise his blade and scream "Down with Hiruzen!"
No one understood rebellion better than Uchiha Setsuna.
And Uchiha Ci—he was a perfect pawn.
There was no way Setsuna would let a pawn this useful die on some meaningless battlefield.
His expression softened slightly, a faint, ominous smile creeping onto his face.
Everyone watching shivered.
Even Ci's heart skipped a beat.
Not because he feared the old man—
but because he suddenly wondered:
If this old man kills me right now… does that count as "accidental death" for insurance purposes?
> [Yes.]
The Will of Heaven's cold mechanical voice answered instantly.
Ci's eyes lit up.
Now he could breathe easy again.
He straightened his back, meeting Setsuna's icy gaze head-on.
The Elder almost burst out laughing in disbelief.
He wanted nothing more than to slap this insolent brat through the ceiling—
but for the sake of the clan's "future revolution," he restrained himself.
He exhaled slowly, suppressing the urge to strike.
"Naive. Laughable."
If the battlefield were truly as safe as Ci imagined, he wouldn't mind sending a few genin to die for the clan.
But reality was cruel.
Those genin weren't soldiers. They were fodder.
Setsuna's gaze grew colder.
"Boy, do you not understand human language?"
But Ci merely grinned.
He bared his teeth like a cornered wolf, eyes glinting with reckless fire.
Then he tilted his head back slightly, tapping his neck as though offering it up.
"What's wrong, Elder? If you've got the guts—cut me down!"
"If you can't kill me, then send me to the battlefield!"
That single act of defiance—
Clang!
A sharp metallic sound rang in his ears, echoing through his mind.