Sora didn't like how busted his sister was sometimes. The fuck you mean she could just imagine some nonsense and it would be real?
That wasn't fair, and his ass was stuck with just a three-tomoe Sharingan. Also yes, the Sharingan was actually the worst power here.
Welp, he knew his sister was stronger than him — hell, shit was obvious. Her blue eyes, for some odd reason, seemed to be an upgraded version of the Byakugan, but not quite a pair of Tenseigan.
Her ass seemed to be able to sense people's intentions, and she was always able to tell when Dad was coming back home when he used his teleportation jutsu.
He had no clue what kind of dōjutsu it was — it just seemed like their father's Byakugan but on steroids.
For fuck's sake, she could see the atoms in someone's body and destabilize that shit.
He watched her punch a vase... only for the vase to just be reduced to ash. When he asked her about it, she said she removed the strong force binding the quarks together.
Do you understand what degree of fucking BS this bullshit was?
Oh well, he was the older brother... by like a week. Apparently, their mothers got pregnant roughly around the same time.
Anyway, as the smart kid he was, he had noticed the look in their mother's eyes, so he would go to sleep earlier from now on... and get ready to be a brother of three instead of one.
He simply wished none of them ended up like his stupid-ass sister.
"What were you thinking about me?" Mito's brow furrowed; she felt like she was being dissed.
"That you are the best sister ever," Sora lied through his teeth.
"You bet I am," she said proudly — as if she wasn't just a fucking OP gremlin.
"Don't get too beat up by Dad, okay?" she said.
"I will do better."
The boy stood in front of his dad, in their front yard, ready to throw hands. He would show his father what he had learned in his immense training.
He was the older brother — it was his job to protect his younger siblings, even if said younger siblings were busted as fuck.
"Alright, show me what you've learned," Seijuro said, stretching his neck lazily, a towel draped around his neck, eyes calm but sharp.
Sora cracked his knuckles. "Heh, don't hold back, old man."
"...I'm in my 20s," Seijuro said wryly.
"Old enough," the boy said before—
BZZZT—BOOM!
The boy launched at him, throwing kicks and punches, all of which Seijuro blocked lazily — only using a single hand to parry them, sometimes even a finger, all while correcting the boy's stance.
Sora's eyes changed, his three-tomoe Sharingan flaring to life.
To an outsider, it looked like Sora was fighting a mirror that mocked his every move.
As the exchange went on, Sora's grin faded a little. He was hitting air — no, he was being redirected. His dad wasn't blocking; he was flowing.
That's when he realized it.
He could see it.
The flow.
The rhythm.
The subtle wave-like shift in Seijuro's movement that made it impossible to land a clean hit.
Sora backed up, breathing a little heavier. "Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
No hand seals, mind you — he simply just spat that shit out.
The fireball was huge, like 40 feet tall and 35 feet long. Seijuro was just glad his front yard was huge — if not, they would've been fucked beyond belief.
Seijuro's right eye shifted into the Byakugan, veins bulging around it, and with a precise movement of his hand — schwip! — he split the fireball in half.
No chakra barrier. No Wind Release. He simply split the Tenketsu points in half.
Shit was simple.
The split halves blasted past him harmlessly, scorching the walls behind. Sora didn't hesitate, closing the gap with a jab, then a right hook—
But Seijuro tilted, just slightly, and redirected the force.
Sora's own punch recoiled back into his face.
He stumbled, blinking stars.
"That," Seijuro said with a faint smirk, "is called the Water Stream. Flows like a river, redirects like a tide. Built for Byakugan perception and chakra precision."
Sora spat out a little dirt and smirked. "That's cheap."
"That's efficiency."
"Same thing."
They went again — Sora faster this time, learning, adapting. His Sharingan spun quicker, more focused, his anticipation improving with every strike. He was still losing, yeah, but it wasn't hopeless now. Seijuro could see it — the kid was reading, evolving, predicting. A real prodigy.
When Seijuro finally stopped, he nodded approvingly. "Not bad. You're showing Chūnin-level form already."
That's when it happened.
Sora's Sharingan pulsed, three tomoe spinning faster — faster — starting to merge.
...
...It didn't take much to please them.
Seijuro felt like if any Uchiha who was traumatized to get their shit saw this BS, they'd try to game-end themselves. Shit was BS beyond BS.
He was this close. One more push and the kid was unlocking his Mangekyō. Pride welled up inside him — yeah, that's his boy.
And then—
"MY TURN!"
Sora didn't even get to catch his breath before something small, red-haired, and loud tackled Seijuro from behind. Mito — his daughter, his chaos incarnate — leapt onto his back like a wild monkey, yelling at the top of her lungs.
"DADDY! I'M NEXT! I'M GONNA SHOW YOU WHY I'M THE BEST!"
Seijuro looked up, seeing that his daughter's eyes were glowing.
"It seems like the Jōgan has awakened in her," he muttered to himself. For some reason, the Jōgan had not awakened in his son but in his daughter.
He had a reason for this—perhaps it was because Kushina would give birth to the child of prophecy, and the eyes had chosen his daughter.
Well, it could be that, or there might be something he hadn't discovered yet.