Next day — 07:15 AM
Shorai woke in cold sweat, staring at the ceiling.
It's not a dream… I feel the impact.
He stood, stretched, and moved to the bathroom. The mirror reflected a stranger.
Same turquoise eyes—sharp, but now shadowed with sorrow. His brows, once relaxed, now carried a permanent furrow. His hair—once brown with streaks—was now fully white, long enough to veil his eyes. He pushed most behind his ears, leaving a few strands falling forward.
"I look… like someone else. This is going to be a hassle to explain," he thought, forcing his face into something resembling calm.
He dressed in his worn clothes—black pants, light brown shirt—both fraying at the edges.
"I need better ones. These are falling apart."
After a quick meal, he stepped outside—only to find Naruto leaving his room.
"Good morning, Shorai! Wait—S-shorai?!" Naruto's voice cracked. "Is that you?"
Shorai turned, offering his usual half-smile. "Who else?"
"You look different! I'd have thought you had a brother!" Naruto leaned in, squinting. "Did you use a Transformation?"
"Let's not waste time. Academy awaits."
They walked in silence. Shorai scanned the streets—faces, pace, expressions. Most were unaware. But in alleys, he caught hushed voices, tense glances. Something had shifted.
At the Academy gates, Ino and Sakura approached.
"Good morning, Sakura-chan!" Naruto beamed.
"Good morning, girls," Shorai said, glancing sideways.
Sakura frowned. "Who are you?"
Ino gasped. "S-shorai?!"
He turned fully. "Who else looks like me?"
"Your hair!"
"Your face!"
"Did you learn Transformation?" they buzzed.
Shorai shook his head. Stone? Trauma? Bloodline? All of it?
"We're late. Let's go."
As they entered, Naruto stood frozen.
"…Hey!"
Sasuke was gone.
—
Classroom — 8:00 AM
The bell rang. Iruka was late.
Whispers swirled—about Shorai's change, about the Uchiha. Thirty minutes later, Iruka entered.
His eyes locked on Shorai—just for a second—then moved on.
"Today: hand signs and chakra molding."
No mention of the massacre.
Shorai knew why.
—
Afternoon — 4:30 PM
Back in his room, Shorai activated the Reality Stone.
Shorai scanned the village… Sasuke—found collapsed near his home, being carried away by ANBU.
Everyone on the move. ANBU. Root. Jōnin. Chūnin. All are tense.
The Uchiha compound—sealed. Guards patrolling.
Shorai exhaled. "No training at the hidden spot. Too many eyes."
He sat, analyzing.
"The Stone alters reality. When deactivated, the change reverts—unless it causes irreversible damage. Like fire. Or disintegration."
He paused.
"But knowledge? Like shurikenjutsu—I learned it through the Stone. Gone when I turned it off."
His mind raced.
"Shadow Clone… I need chakra. How much?"
He activated the Stone, constructing a device to measure his reserves, clone cost, and training timeline.
He thought optimistically it should take him to reach the minimal requirement by the graduation year.
"Oh? I was right," he murmured. "But I'll need stricter training."
Shorai either by mistake or by stone's power scratched the scroll with the approximate date, as he wrote his intention for training.
Then—deactivated the Stone.
The device vanished.
The scroll—blank of ink. But scratched.
"Damn. I forgot. It's a warped extension of knowledge. Stupid."
He facepalmed, giving another glance at the scroll.
Then—a thought.
He scanned the room. The bathroom. The walls.
Finally, he placed a fresh scroll on the table.
"Hiding it here is risky. A Byakugan user could find it. Carrying it is also a problem…"
He stared, mind focused on an idea.
"Knowledge of the Shadow Clone. The method."
His pulse quickened.
He closed his eyes.
Information seeped in—warped into his memory.
He wrote—fast, precise.
Finished, he stood, walked to the bathtub, scroll in hand.
"Now… please work."
He pointed a finger at the scroll's first line.
A beam—thin, controlled—lasered through the paper.
Letter by letter, he burned the text.
Thirty minutes later, sweat-drenched, he stepped back.
Holes. Black. In the shape of words.
He turned off the Stone.
The scroll remained—damaged. The knowledge—gone from his mind.
But the proof—was real.
His lips curled.
"It… IT FUCKING WORKED!"
He froze.
"Shit."
He activated the Stone—scanned for eavesdroppers.
Silence.
He exhaled.
The matter was damaged.
The knowledge—erased.
—
Two days passed.
Sasuke returned.
The class now knew.
Whispers filled the room—hushed, careful. Some pitied him. A few girls approached, hands outstretched, words trembling.
Sasuke ignored them. Or spat back.
They stopped coming.
Shorai greeted him as always—calm, unbothered by the silence. Sasuke didn't respond. He just stared ahead, eyes hollow, like a ghost wearing his own face.
Sasuke noticed his appearance—white hair, sharp eyes—but only for a second. Then he looked away. Not worth questioning.
Naruto didn't understand. But he felt it—the shift. The cold. The weight.
Something inside him changed.
He glanced at Sasuke differently now.
And the change followed.
Sasuke trained like a man possessed. Cold. Distant. Focused. He shouldered classmates aside, lost in his own world.
The only thing that sparked any emotion—anger masked as seriousness—was training.
Sparring. Theory. Any skill he could use to outpace, to outgrow, to surpass.
It became a quiet battlefield between him and Shorai.
Naruto, caught in the middle, kept challenging Sasuke—losing every time. He kept hearing girls' cheers to beat him, but each loss only fueled him.
Sasuke's responses grew colder. Harsher. He looked down, as if Naruto were beneath him.
To some, it looked like pride. Coolness. A show-off.
To others, it was pain wearing armor.
And through it all, Shorai's taijutsu sharpened.