Spring had arrived. The air of Konoha carried the scent of blooming photinia, and the forested hills beyond the village shimmered with new green. It was the season of renewal—and at the Ninja Academy, the season of graduation.
Senior students were receiving their hitai-ate. New children would soon take their places in the classrooms.
Among this year's graduates stood Uchiha Ryougi.
—or rather, Ryoma.
Ten years old. The same age as Uchiha Itachi had been when he graduated early. Yet unlike Itachi, Ryougi was not regarded as a prodigy by the village. Among his classmates, none were especially noteworthy—except Itachi himself, whose brilliance already set him apart.
Ryougi carried a secret no one else did.
He had been reborn into this world with his memories intact.
With a photographic memory and the discipline of an adult mind, he had become an exceptional student in theory and practice. His only dissatisfaction lay in one thing—his chakra reserves were merely average. Not weak, but not monstrous like the true geniuses of this era.
Because of that, he had never acted rashly.
He was too young. Too powerless. Too easily erased.
So he waited. Observed. Built connections.
His relationship with Uchiha Shisui and Uchiha Itachi was amicable—an advantage he had carefully cultivated.
Now, with only three years remaining before the night the Uchiha clan would be wiped out, Ryoma knew it was time.
Time to move.
Time to prepare.
His plan had a name in his mind:
"What Can Save You, My Uchiha?"
"Congratulations on your graduation, Ryougi."
Ryoma turned at the voice.
A young man stood there with short dark hair, a warm smile, and the relaxed posture of someone who moved faster than sight itself. He wore a dark high-collared shirt beneath the flak jacket of a Konoha jōnin, a short sword strapped at his back.
Uchiha Shisui.
Already famous. Already feared on the battlefield. The man who had earned the name Shisui of the Body Flicker during the Third Shinobi World War.
He was three years older than both Ryoma and Itachi. And though Itachi's talent was terrifying even by Uchiha standards, there was still a visible gap between them at present.
"Shisui-nii. What brings you here?" Ryoma asked politely.
He genuinely liked Shisui.
Unlike Itachi, Shisui would never raise a blade against his own clan. He was cheerful, patient, and kind. Over the past year, he had even offered Ryoma occasional guidance in shuriken technique and movement drills.
"I heard you graduated today," Shisui said, forcing a smile. "I had some free time, so I thought I'd come by."
A lie—but a gentle one.
Earlier, Shisui had attended another tense clan meeting. The arguments between the faction demanding a coup and the faction urging restraint had grown sharper with each passing month.
Exhausted, he had wandered toward the Academy without thinking.
"I see."
Ryoma understood more than he let show.
In the original course of events, the Uchiha clan's rebellion would be delayed only because of Shisui's death. His suicide would buy Konoha two more years before the final tragedy.
Next year, Shisui would meet the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, alongside Shimura Danzō. He would reveal the secret of his Mangekyō Sharingan—Kotoamatsukami, the ultimate genjutsu capable of altering a person's will without them noticing.
And Danzō would steal one of his eyes.
Even then, Shisui would still choose the village over himself.
He would throw himself into the Naka River.
Blind loyalty.
Naïveté.
A good man crushed by an impossible world.
"Let's walk," Ryoma said once the graduation formalities ended.
Shisui accepted easily.
Itachi was Shisui's closest friend. And Itachi was Fugaku's prodigy son. Shisui had every reason to take interest in another promising child of the clan.
Ryoma bought two skewers of three-colored dango from a street vendor and handed one over.
"Thanks," Shisui said, biting into it. "The taste hasn't changed. If Itachi were here, he'd love this."
Ryoma chewed quietly.
He missed the cuisine of his old world. And he preferred salty food over sweets. But that hardly mattered now.
"I've learned a lot these past few years," Ryoma said at last. "Especially in theory."
"Oh?" Shisui's eyes brightened.
The Academy's theory classes centered heavily on Konoha ideology—the Will of Fire. Children who spoke thoughtfully about it were rare.
Itachi had once asked similar questions.
Shisui remembered the seven-year-old boy who already spoke like a Hokage. That was why he had taken Itachi under his wing.
If Ryougi showed the same depth, Shisui would gladly guide him too.
"But the more I learn," Ryoma continued, "the more confused I become."
He stopped walking.
"Shisui-nii… what do you think the Will of Fire truly is?"
To Shisui, this question was sacred.
He smiled softly.
"It's not something that can be explained in a few words," he said. "But if I must… where leaves dance, fire burns. The firelight protects the village, and from its warmth, new leaves grow."
Ryoma nodded slowly.
"I understand a little. But not completely."
"That's proof you're thinking seriously," Shisui said, patting his shoulder. "This isn't a conversation for the street. Come to my place. We can talk properly."
Ryoma's mind flashed briefly to the future.
To the night Shisui would never return home.
But he did not refuse.
Inside Shisui's quiet apartment, the jōnin sat on the tatami, expression turning solemn.
"I once had the same doubts as you," Shisui said. "Eventually I realized—the problem wasn't the Will of Fire. It was that we shinobi are trapped by clan-centered thinking."
Ryoma listened, eyes lowered, pretending confusion.
"To understand the Will of Fire," Shisui continued, "you must broaden your perspective. Think not as an Uchiha, but as a shinobi of Konoha. Be ready to abandon narrow clan loyalty if necessary."
His voice carried absolute conviction.
Shisui's favorite word was always the same.
Determination.
Ryoma felt it clearly.
And in another world, Shisui's belief would have been admirable.
But there was a flaw in his premise.
Konoha did not belong to the people alone.
It belonged to those who controlled it.
"Shisui-nii," Ryoma asked quietly, "what if the clan and the village come into conflict?"
Silence.
Shisui had asked himself that question for years. He still had no answer.
But he forced one anyway.
"Then we must determine who is right… and mediate between them."
Even as he spoke, he knew it was insufficient.
Ryoma's gaze sharpened.
"What if… both sides believe they are right?"
This was no longer a child's philosophical question.
This was the heart of the coming Uchiha coup.
From the clan's perspective: They were feared, isolated, stripped of political power, blamed for the Nine-Tails disaster without proof, and pushed to the village outskirts.
From Konoha's leadership perspective: The Uchiha possessed terrifying power, emotional volatility, and a history of rebellion. The Sharingan in the Nine-Tails' eyes during the disaster had only deepened suspicion.
Tobirama Senju's warnings still echoed in the minds of his students.
And Hiruzen and Danzō had inherited that fear.
"…"
Shisui fell silent again.
This year's children were frightening.
And Uchiha Ryougi's question struck directly at the wound tearing the clan apart.