In the heart of Konoha, within the Uchiha district—
"Jin-senpai!"
"Brother Jin!"
"Little Jin's back? Come have dinner at our place tonight!"
…
As Jin walked along the main road, he greeted clan members one by one.
In this moment, the so-called cold and arrogant Uchiha looked no different from ordinary villagers.
To be precise, the pride and aloofness were mostly traits of the clan's shinobi. The civilians of the Uchiha were merely a little proud—perhaps justifiably so.
After all, was it wrong to feel pride as part of a lineage that had endured for thousands of years? As a member of Konoha's foremost clan?
Didn't Konoha's own villagers feel the same pride when speaking to citizens of smaller nations?
The Uchiha were proud—but they had never bullied the weak or abused power.
So what exactly was their crime?
Jin sighed inwardly as he politely declined dinner invitations and headed toward the clan head's residence.
Ever since his rise on the Mist front, his popularity within the clan had surged. It was no longer just civilians who greeted him warmly—even the shinobi now did so.
The Uchiha respected strength.
If you were strong enough, their arrogance never surfaced in front of you.
When Jin arrived at Fugaku's home, Shisui was sparring with Fugaku's eldest son—Uchiha Itachi.
Five years old this year.
Under Fugaku's deliberate guidance, Itachi had already witnessed the horrors of war. His mind was far older than his body.
In terms of skill, he already surpassed most academy students—and under Shisui's restraint, he could exchange several respectable moves.
"Jin, you're here."
Though Fugaku appeared focused on the sparring, the heaviness in his brow betrayed him.
Something had happened during his report to Hiruzen.
Jin noticed—but did not ask.
Instead, he observed the courtyard.
"Itachi's improved significantly. He's already at genin-level."
Fugaku straightened slightly, pride flickering in his eyes.
"Thank you. He still has much to—"
"Don't misunderstand," Jin cut in calmly. "I wasn't praising him."
Silence.
Shisui paused mid-step.
Itachi's expression did not change—but his eyes sharpened.
Fugaku's pride froze in place.
Jin continued:
"I opposed you bringing him to the battlefield in the first place."
"Look at him. Does he resemble a five-year-old child?"
Fugaku frowned.
"As the clan head's son, he cannot grow up like ordinary children. Maturity means responsibility."
On many matters, Fugaku trusted Jin.
But when it came to raising his son—he had his own convictions.
Jin exhaled slowly.
"A newborn is a blank sheet of paper. As they grow, the world paints colors onto it."
"Some colors are bright. Some are dark."
"The key to raising a child is not flooding them with color."
"It's teaching them how to distinguish between them."
"A child's capacity is limited. Judgment develops gradually."
"But you handed him the darkest colors first—before he had the foundation to compare them against."
"That isn't cultivation."
"It's forced growth."
"If his worldview is shaped prematurely, everything he learns afterward will revolve around that initial impression."
"If the core perspective is skewed, then the more brilliant he becomes… the more dangerous he becomes."
Fugaku's heart tightened.
He had taken Itachi to the battlefield precisely to sharpen his judgment.
Was it too early?
Jin continued quietly:
"If Itachi were ordinary, it wouldn't matter much."
"But he's not."
"He's exceptional."
"And that makes this far more serious."
He paused.
"Early wisdom shortens life. Deep feeling erodes longevity. Excess brilliance invites harm."
Fugaku blinked.
"What are you implying?"
Jin met his eyes evenly.
"He began refining chakra too early."
"His mind and body are under dual pressure."
"If this continues…"
"He won't live long."
The courtyard fell silent.
Fugaku's fists tightened instinctively.
Had anyone else uttered such words about his son—
They would already be unconscious.
But this was Jin.
A man whose judgment he respected.
A man he could not defeat.
Fugaku held his temper.
Shisui looked between them anxiously.
Itachi, meanwhile—
Remained eerily calm.
His young gaze flickered slightly.
As if… he was thinking.
And that, perhaps—
It was the most dangerous sign of all.
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