Kapitel 244: 243-Handicap

The sound of footsteps echoed softly across the stone floors of the ANBU base as Yano, Renjiro, and Kakashi moved into a training hall.

Renjiro, with his red hair catching the dull glow of the lanterns, couldn't help but glance at Kakashi beside him. The boy stood poised, a mask covering his face but with an unmistakable intensity radiating from his visible eyes.

Yano halted abruptly, turning to face the two shinobi. "Since you'll be working together in the same squad, it's only fitting that I evaluate your combat abilities," he said, his tone firm yet even. His eyes flicked from Renjiro to Kakashi.

"We'll do that by having you two spar. You two will fight, and I'll observe. I need to see how you handle yourselves against each other."

Kakashi, standing with his hands loosely at his sides, tensed slightly at the thought. His visible eye narrowed as he glanced at Renjiro.

'A fight?'

The idea piqued his interest, but there was a nagging sense of competition simmering beneath the surface. Kakashi had always been driven to prove himself—to show that despite his age, he could surpass those older and supposedly stronger than him.

And now, facing someone like Renjiro, whom Minato and others spoke so highly of, he couldn't help but feel a surge of competitiveness rise within him.

Before they could begin, Yano stepped closer to Renjiro and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"One thing, Renjiro," he said, his voice low but commanding. "You are not to use your Sharingan."

Renjiro blinked, taken aback by the instruction. "What? Why?"

Kakashi, who had been preparing himself mentally for the upcoming spar, stiffened at Yano's words.

'Does he think Renjiro is stronger than me?' Kakashi thought, irritation flickering in his mind.

The idea that Yano was placing some kind of handicap on Renjiro sent a ripple of frustration through him. He was eager to prove himself against the older shinobi, but now it seemed like Yano was holding Renjiro back. Unable to contain his curiosity, Kakashi asked the question that had formed in his mind.

"Why?" Kakashi said bluntly, his voice colder than he intended. "Why does he need to hold back?"

Yano turned his head slightly to look at Kakashi, his expression unreadable.

"Because in the ANBU, we operate in secrecy. Renjiro's Sharingan is too recognizable. It could be traced back to Konoha." he said.

'And it could be traced back to me as well,'

Renjiro's gaze darkened slightly as he caught onto what Yano implied.

The Sharingan wasn't just a tool of power—it was a symbol of the Uchiha clan, and using it indiscriminately would leave a trail. He had to get used to not using it a lot, which would be hard for him.

Yano's tone softened, but there was still an edge of seriousness. "You're allowed to use it only as a last resort, Renjiro. And only when you're certain your target won't live to tell the tale."

'No Sharingan,' Renjiro thought, 'That's fine. I can manage without it.'

Renjiro nodded, a small, grim smile playing on his lips. "Understood."

Kakashi stood silent, feeling a surge of determination. 'So he's holding back the Sharingan? Fine.'

Yano stepped back, giving them both space in the centre of the training hall. "Whenever you're ready," he said simply.

Kakashi took the initiative and darted forward, his kunai flashing in the dim light as he struck at Renjiro's midsection.

"Clang!"

Renjiro deflected the blow with his own kunai, his movements fluid, almost casual.

The metallic clash of steel echoed through the room as their blades met again and again, neither gaining the upper hand in those first few moments.

Renjiro's eyes narrowed slightly as he countered Kakashi's swift, precise attacks.

'He's fast,' Renjiro thought, assessing the boy's speed and agility.

Kakashi moved with the grace of a seasoned shinobi, despite his young age. His strikes were sharp, clean, and well-timed, but Renjiro could tell that they were just probing each other's reflexes. There was no real intent to harm, at least not yet.

Suddenly, Kakashi feinted left and launched a kunai with his right hand, aiming for Renjiro's shoulder. Renjiro dodged with ease, pivoting on his heel and countering with a swift roundhouse kick aimed at Kakashi's head.

"Whoosh!"

The air hissed as the kick sailed toward Kakashi, but the boy was already gone, flipping backwards with catlike reflexes to avoid the blow.

They broke apart, their eyes locking for a brief moment. Both knew that the real fight hadn't started yet.

Renjiro moved first this time, charging at Kakashi with surprising speed. His fist shot out toward Kakashi's midsection, but Kakashi spun on his heel, dodging the blow with millimetre precision.

Renjiro didn't relent, launching a barrage of swift punches and kicks, each aimed to test Kakashi's defences. But Kakashi was slippery, his movements quick and efficient as he evaded each strike.

'He's got good reflexes,' Renjiro thought as he pressed Kakashi harder.

With a sudden burst of chakra, Renjiro's speed increased, his movements becoming a blur. He appeared behind Kakashi in an instant, his hand raised to strike—but Kakashi was ready.

"Clang!"

A kunai blocked Renjiro's hand just in time, the force of the impact sending Kakashi skidding backwards across the stone floor.

Renjiro smirked. 'He's talented, no doubt about it.'

Meanwhile, Kakashi was frowning behind his mask.

'He's not even using his Sharingan, yet I can't break through his defences.'

Kakashi narrowed his eyes, his mind working quickly to come up with a strategy. Raw power wasn't going to win this fight—not against someone like Renjiro. He needed to outthink him, outmanoeuvre him.

With that thought, Kakashi leapt back, forming a series of hand signs.

"Lightning Release: Lightning Beast Tracking Fang!" he called, slamming his hand onto the ground.

A bolt of lightning shot forward, forming into the shape of a snarling wolf that charged at Renjiro with crackling ferocity. The air hummed with the sharp scent of ozone as the lightning wolf surged forward, its fangs bared and ready to strike.

Renjiro's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the jutsu, but he reacted quickly.

"Earth Release: Mud Wall!" he called, slamming his palms to the ground.

"Boom!"

A wall of solid earth erupted from the ground in front of Renjiro, blocking the lightning wolf just before it could strike. The two jutsu clashed with a thunderous crack, sending sparks and debris flying through the air.

But Kakashi wasn't done. He had already moved, darting around the side of the mud wall to flank Renjiro.

'He's clever,' Renjiro thought, a grin forming on his lips. 'But not clever enough.'

Renjiro ducked just as Kakashi's kunai whizzed past his head, the blade missing by inches. He spun on his heel, sweeping his leg out to trip Kakashi, but the boy was already in the air, flipping over Renjiro's leg with ease. Kakashi landed lightly on his feet, his eyes narrowed as he prepared for the next exchange.

From the sidelines, Yano watched in silence, his arms crossed over his chest. He had expected Kakashi to be formidable, but what he was seeing was beyond his expectations.

The boy's ingenuity and quick thinking were impressive, especially for someone so young. But Renjiro... Renjiro had grown too. His movements were refined, precise, and lacked the youthful recklessness that clouded him during their previous missions together.

'They're both strong,' Yano thought, a small smile tugging at his lips.

'But there's still room to grow.'

The spar continued, with Renjiro and Kakashi exchanging blows in a whirlwind of motion. Renjiro's strength and speed were undeniable, but Kakashi's agility and quick thinking kept him in the fight.

Every time Renjiro seemed to gain the upper hand, Kakashi would counter with a clever move, closing the gap between their abilities.

But as the fight wore on, it became clear that Renjiro's fighting experience, chakra reserves and raw power were beginning to overwhelm Kakashi.

Despite the boy's ingenuity, he couldn't break through Renjiro's defences. Sweat dripped down Kakashi's face as he struggled to keep up, his breaths coming faster and faster.

'He's strong,'

Kakashi thought, frustration gnawing at him. 'Stronger than I expected.'

Renjiro, for his part, was impressed. 'He's good,' he thought, his eyes narrowing as he blocked another of Kakashi's strikes.

'Really good. If Kakashi is this talented, I can't wait to meet Itachi.'

But even with Kakashi's talent, it was clear that the older shinobi had the upper hand. Renjiro's movements were fluid and controlled, his strikes powerful and precise. He wasn't even using his Sharingan, and yet Kakashi couldn't break through.

'Boom!'

Renjiro's fist connected with Kakashi's kunai, sending the boy skidding backwards once more. Kakashi's eyes widened in frustration.

But before the fight could escalate further, Yano's voice cut through the air like a sharp wind.

"That's enough."

Both shinobi froze, breathing heavily as they turned to face Yano. The ANBU captain stepped forward, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"Your combat abilities are acceptable," Yano said, his tone calm but final.

Renjiro blinked, surprised by the word acceptable.

'Acceptable?' After all that, the term felt like an insult.

Kakashi, too, was offended.

'Acceptable?' he thought, his frustration barely concealed behind his mask. He had given it his all, and yet Yano had only deemed it "acceptable"?

Yano, oblivious to their offended expressions, continued. "We'll meet every day for training. Your first mission will be in a week. Be ready."

With that, Yano turned and left the training hall, leaving Renjiro and Kakashi standing in silence. Renjiro glanced at Kakashi, who stood with his arms crossed, his eye glaring at the ground.

"You're strong," Renjiro said after a moment, his voice low but genuine. "I can see why they talk about you."

Kakashi didn't respond, but his visible eye flicked upward to meet Renjiro's gaze. For a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them—one born of respect, despite the rivalry that simmered beneath the surface.

Renjiro too was waiting for when Kakashi would mature up, maybe their fights then would be fun.

=====

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Kapitel 245: 244-Cornerstone

In a grand circular chamber deep within the Uchiha compound, a meeting was taking place. The chamber's walls were adorned with tapestries and the symbol of the clan—three red tomoe circling a fan-like shape. Low candles flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the faces of the assembled elders.

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with a quiet storm brewing just beneath the surface. The crackle of the fire in the center hearth was the only sound for a long, tense moment as Daichi sat at the head of the long, stone table.

Daichi's dark hair, now littered with streaks of gray, was tied back in a traditional topknot, and his robe bore the intricate designs of the Uchiha symbol on his sleeves.

He had been through wars, and countless political battles, and the weight of leadership had settled into the deep lines on his face. But tonight, there was an agitation in the room that even he found difficult to quell.

At the table with him were the Uchiha elders, a group of men and women who had lived long lives and seen the rise and fall of many shinobi in Konoha and the shinobi world in general. They were the guardians of Uchiha tradition and history, and tonight they were far from pleased.

"This is intolerable, Daichi," Elder Masato growled, his voice gravelly with age but still commanding respect. His fists clenched on the table, the veins in his hands bulging as his anger simmered just below the surface.

"The village council has cut our funding yet again, and we are supposed to just accept this? They have no respect for the Uchiha!"

Elder Rina, sitting beside him, nodded sharply. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back, and her sharp eyes were filled with disdain.

"We are the protectors of Konoha, Daichi. The police force, which they have so conveniently lumped together with the clan's finances, is the backbone of this village's security. And yet they treat us like second-class citizens. How long will we allow this to continue?"

Daichi remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listened to the growing chorus of discontent from the elders. His son, Fugaku, sat beside him, his arms crossed, watching the room with a calm but calculating gaze.

Fugaku was young, but even now his presence commanded attention—though he was quiet, his dark eyes missed nothing. He was still too young, perhaps too young for Daichi to place the burden of the Uchiha clan on his shoulders.

"I understand your frustrations," Daichi finally spoke, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting through the heated murmurs.

"But we must not act rashly. The village has suffered greatly after the last shinobi war. Resources are scarce, and the council is managing the recovery of the village. We are not the only ones facing cuts."

Masato slammed his hand on the table.

"Don't be naive, Daichi!" he spat.

"This is not about the previous war or economic recovery. This is about them keeping us in check. The Hokage, Danzo, and the rest of the council see us as a threat. They fear us, and this is how they keep us in line—by starving us of resources!"

Daichi's jaw tightened as Masato's words hit a nerve. He knew there was some truth to what the elder was saying. For years, the Uchiha clan had been kept at arm's length, despite their power and contributions to the village.

The founding of Konoha had promised unity, but the reality had been much different. The police force, established to give the Uchiha a place of authority, had turned into a gilded cage, a way to isolate them from true leadership in the village.

Rina leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Daichi. "Our ancestors were coerced into joining Konoha under the promise of equality and respect. Yet where are we now? Our funding slashed and our influence diminished. Hashirama was understandable; he was the First Hokage and one of the strongest shinobi of his time. But what of Tobirama? And Hiruzen? Both of them passed over our clan as if we didn't exist."

Daichi's heart clenched at her words. He remembered those days vividly. After the death of the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, there had been talk of who would succeed him.

Daichi should have been a contender, or so he had thought. His strength and tactical genius had been second only to Uchiha Madara in his youth, and many had whispered that he was destined for greatness. But in the end, Hiruzen Sarutobi had been chosen as the Third Hokage.

'He was older,'

Daichi reflected, his eyes hardening slightly as he stared at the flickering flames of the hearth.

'More experienced,' people had said since Hiruzen operated closely to Tobirama.

But Daichi had shown as much promise as anyone else. Perhaps it was the lingering mistrust toward the Uchiha that had kept him from the position. And perhaps it was the same mistrust that had kept their clan sidelined ever since.

Yet Daichi had come to terms with that long ago. The weight of leadership within the police force had been a sobering one. It had shown him that perhaps becoming Hokage was not the path he had truly desired.

The endless responsibilities, and the political intrigue—it was more than enough for him to lead his clan and manage the police force. But even that was becoming increasingly difficult as the village's trust in the Uchiha started to erode.

"Resentment has been brewing for too long," Elder Masato continued, his voice rising with passion.

"We have been passed over time and time again. We accepted Hashirama as the First Hokage, but Tobirama? Hiruzen? No one from our clan was even considered! We are warriors, born and bred, with a history of strength that no other clan in Konoha can rival. And yet, we are treated like nothing more than servants."

Daichi's grip tightened on the arms of his chair. He knew this sentiment ran deep within the clan. He had heard whispers of it for years, and the elders were only giving voice to what many younger Uchiha were beginning to feel.

The divide between the village and the Uchiha was growing wider with every passing year, and the recent cuts to their funding were only fueling that resentment.

Fugaku finally spoke, his voice calm but laced with the same frustration that simmered throughout the room. "The village claims these cuts are necessary for economic recovery, but it is clear that they are targeting us specifically. The police force is our main source of income, and by cutting its budget, they are cutting the lifeline of the Uchiha."

Daichi nodded slowly, his mind racing as he considered his son's words. He had long been the voice of reason, trying to keep the peace between the village and his clan.

But even he was starting to lose faith in the village administration. The constant discrimination, the subtle but ever-present mistrust—it was wearing him down. How long could he continue to placate the elders and his own people before something snapped?

"We are still recovering from the war," Daichi said, trying once more to bring a sense of calm to the heated room. "The village is trying to rebuild. We must be patient."

But the elders were not swayed. Masato's eyes blazed with fury as he leaned forward, pointing an accusing finger at Daichi. "You're too soft, Daichi! Too willing to bend to their will. You lead this clan, but you do not stand up for it! We have been patient for years, and what has it gotten us? More cuts, more disrespect!"

Rina chimed in, her voice cold and sharp. "If we continue to sit idly by, we will be reduced to nothing. The Uchiha will become nothing more than a footnote in Konoha's history."

The murmurs of agreement from the other elders filled the room, growing louder and more aggressive with each passing second. Daichi could feel the tension rising, the anger building like a storm ready to break. He knew he had to act before things got out of hand.

"We should take action!" one of the younger elders called out, his voice trembling with barely concealed rage. "We should show the village that the Uchiha will not be pushed around any longer!"

Others echoed the sentiment, and Daichi's heart pounded as he realized the situation was spiralling out of control. His eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint flickered in their depths.

"Enough!" Daichi's voice boomed across the room, silencing the rising tide of voices. The force of his words reverberated through the chamber, and for a moment, everything was still.

Suddenly, Daichi's Sharingan flared to life. The three tomoe that circled his pupils spun rapidly before shifting into an entirely new pattern—his Mangekyo Sharingan.

The once-simple design morphed into a complex kaleidoscope of swirling lines and jagged shapes, a testament to the immense power Daichi wielded. His eyes blazed with a deep, crimson light, and the sheer pressure of his chakra filled the room like an oppressive wave.

The effect was immediate. The elders, who had been so vocal moments before, fell silent, their faces pale. A few of them broke into a cold sweat, their breaths shallow as they felt the overwhelming presence of their clan head.

Daichi's voice was low, but it carried the weight of authority that could not be denied. "This is the end of the discussion," he said, his Mangekyo Sharingan burning in his eyes. "You will make do with the funds we have. There will be no further action against the village council."

No one dared speak. The sight of Daichi's Mangekyo Sharingan had silenced any argument they might have had. The elders lowered their heads in deference, knowing that they could never oppose Daichi when he wielded such power.

Many thought that Daichi's power over the clan was unnecessary and uncalled for, but it was that very power that held the Uchiha clan together and delayed their ruin for decades to come.

As the tension in the room dissipated, Daichi's adjourned the meeting and left the chamber. While Fugaku and his future sons, would grow to become exceptional shinobi in their own right, the origin of their strength and talent was evident. It was Daichi who had laid the foundation for the legacy of power that ran through their blood.