đ WEEKLY POWER GOALS đ
đ„ 30â2ch | 60â5ch | 100â8ch | 200â15ch | 400â25ch
â° Resets Monday!
36.txt
Qianyu returned to the underground base. Orochimaru wasn't there.
He took a shower and went straight to his room to sleep.
At first, the whole incident with Uchiha YĆ«to and Uchiha Kazuma had pissed him off. Did they really think he was still the soft pushover they could just mess with?
But then the anger faded. Getting worked up over idiots like that was a waste of energy. Frankly, he found them hilarious.
They couldn't beat him, so they tried to pull rank with the Uchiha clan name.
Please. He was under Orochimaru's wing now. What did he have to be afraid of?
Qianyu lay down and was out like a light.
Uchiha YĆ«to and Uchiha Kazuma, however, were having a much less comfortable night. Both were receiving treatment at the Konoha hospital.
Before long, the current head of the Uchiha clan, Uchiha Masaki, arrived. A boy around Qianyu's age walked beside himâthe clan's heir apparent, Uchiha Fugaku.
Masaki took in the sight of YĆ«to and Kazuma, their right arms in plaster casts and bandages. His brow furrowed. "What happened?"
At the sight of the clan head, Kazuma tensed, too nervous to speak.
Yƫto gritted his teeth. "Lord Masaki⊠it was that Qianyu!"
Masaki's frown deepened. "Did I not make myself clear? I ordered everyone to leave him alone."
He knew. Of course he knew. Qianyu had handed over an A-rank taijutsu style, and several Uchiha had even learned it. Anyone with eyes could see Hiruzen Sarutobi's shifting attitude, his clear intent to groom the boy. And while it wasn't common knowledge, Masaki, as clan head, had his channels. He knew about Orochimaru taking Qianyu as a student.
A student of the Third Hokage's own disciple. A personal apprentice of one of the Legendary Sannin. Qianyu's standing in Konoha had skyrocketed. He was firmly in the Hokage's camp now.
Truth be told, Masaki had issued the 'hands-off' order the moment Qianyu offered that jutsu and Hiruzen's favor became apparent. That was why no Uchiha had bothered Qianyu these past few years. After the news about Orochimaru, Masaki had reiterated the command.
His voice turned low and heavy. "Did you provoke him?"
YĆ«to's mouth opened, then closed. He said nothing.
For all their arrogance, for all the privilege they wielded as Uchiha, men like YĆ«to and Kazuma held a twisted pride in their clan name. They wouldn't stoop to lying about it.
Masaki's face darkened. "Once you're healed, report to the clan for disciplinary action according to our laws. I will say this one more time. Do. Not. Trouble. Him."
A familiar, weary frustration settled in his chest. His clansmen. So blind. So utterly incapable of reading the room.
Masaki understood the Uchiha's position in Konoha better than anyone.
To him, the clan was like an old man on his deathbed, experiencing one last, fleeting surge of vitality before the end. The villagers' fear and distrust. His own people's boundless arrogance. If the ninja world wasn't so unstable, if Konoha didn't still need their strength⊠the reckoning might have already begun.
Sometimes, Masaki thought the only people in Konoha who truly wanted another war were that scheming old badger DanzĆ, skulking in the shadows⊠and himself.
In Masaki's eyes, the only way to breathe life back into the Uchiha was to prove their worth. To show Hiruzen Sarutobi, to show every villager, that Konoha could not function without them.
And how do you prove worth? On the battlefield. In blood and fire.
He'd preached discretion to his clansmen countless times. But a lifetime of looking down on others was a hard habit to break. It was depressing. This leadership role was shaving years off his life.
He glanced at Fugaku beside him. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
His son. His one consolation. Fugaku hadn't grown twisted like the others. No trace of that blind arrogance. Masaki truly believed this boy would become a worthy leader one day.
He looked back at the two injured men on the beds. He said nothing more. They were a disappointment. Anything he said would go in one ear and out the other. It was pointless.
He turned to leave.
"Lord Masaki!"
The voice stopped him. YĆ«to, after an internal struggle, had spoken.
"That QianyuâŠ" YĆ«to forced the words out. "He⊠he awakened the Sharingan."
Masaki froze. He turned slowly, his expression one of utter disbelief. "What did you say?"
YĆ«to repeated it, louder this time. "He awakened the Sharingan!"
Masaki's face went through a series of rapid shifts. "How old is he? Thirteen? Fourteen?"
"Father," Fugaku answered quietly, "he's two years behind me in the Academy. He should be twelve."
"Twelve." The word was a breathless punch to Masaki's gut. "Twelve years old, and he's opened his eyes? No⊠not necessarily at twelve. That boy⊠is he a genius?"
His own son, Fugaku, was hailed as the clan's prodigy. Yet at fourteen, Fugaku's eyes remained unopened. Even Uchiha Madara, the clan's strongest, the former leader everyone whispered about, hadn't activated his Sharingan until he was fifteen.
A memory surfaced, sharp and unwanted: the day, years ago, when Konoha ANBU brought a small, defiant child to the Uchiha compound. Because of the boy's mixed bloodâtainted with that of their ancestral rivals, the SenjuâMasaki, along with everyone else, had looked down on him. He had flatly refused to acknowledge the boy as one of their own.
If he had known⊠if he had possessed even an inkling of this monstrous talent⊠he would have fought the entire clan to keep Qianyu within the Uchiha fold.
But regret was useless now.
Masaki's mind raced. Beside him, Fugaku's own mind was a whirlwind.
As the clan heir, son of Uchiha Masaki, he'd been told his whole life he was a genius. That he would surely become the Uchiha's strongest. He believed it. He had confidence in his future strength, in his destiny to become the clan's pillar.
And now this. Qianyu, with only half their blood, had awakened the Sharingan. The impact hit Fugaku like a physical blow. A deep, unsettling shock, followed by a sharp, bitter pang of resentment.
Not just awakened. Possibly awakened before he was twelve. And him? The one called a genius every day? He hadn't even felt the first stirrings of the Sharingan.
His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. A heavy silence fell over the hospital room.
~~~~ââ~~~~~~~~ââ~~~~
Read up to (40+Â ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here:patreon.com/GoldenLong
Happy reading, everyone!