[~ 1000 Words]
A week before the Uchiha Massacre.
Izumi rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her skirt.
"I should go start dinner before Father yells again," she said with a tired smile.
Haruki chuckled. "Tell him to cook it himself for once."
She gave him a playful shove. "You tell him that, Chunin. I'd like to live a little longer."
As she turned and climbed down the side of the tiled roof with practiced ease, Haruki leaned back against the slanted tiles, folding his arms behind his head. Alone again, he let his thoughts drift to the glowing homes across the village.
Below, he saw children playing along the road—laughing, chasing each other with sticks, pretending to be ninja.
Parents called out lovingly to them from open doors. The soft sound of music or laughter drifted from the civilian districts. There was joy there. Freedom. A life untouched by legacy or suspicion.
He sighed.
So different from the Uchiha Clan´s compound. Here, their legacy was a chain. And no matter how much you smiled, it made the others only afraid.
Haruki closed his eyes briefly.
"Maybe I was born in the wrong clan…"
"Tch."
A sharp throat-clearing echoed behind him. Haruki's body tensed before turning his head slightly.
There stood Haruto, his father.
Tall, with stern eyes like dark steel, his expression was unreadable as usual. But his arms were crossed, and he didn't look angry—just... present. Watching. Listening.
"How long were you standing there?" Haruki asked with a nervous chuckle.
Haruto stepped forward onto the tiles with uncanny balance and grace, crouching beside him without looking directly at him.
"Long enough to hear what you said to your sister."
Haruki winced slightly and sat up straighter. "Sorry if I said anything wrong…"
Haruto waved a hand.
"You didn't. In fact…" —he looked off into the distance— "...You spoke with more sense than most of the elders of the Clan."
That surprised Haruki.
"Better she lives a long and normal life than die gloriously," Haruto added.
A long silence followed those words. They hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like it came from years of buried pain.
Haruki lowered his gaze. "I should've awakened my Sharingan by now. Maybe then I could've helped. With the clan, with you, with—"
"Enough," Haruto cut in sharply, raising one hand. "We've been over this. I didn't raise an emotional idiot."
Haruki looked up.
"You think your mother awakened her Sharingan because of some brilliant strategy? No. She was thirteen. Her teammate was impaled on a kunai trap, and she saw it happen. That was her 'glorious' awakening."
His jaw tightened.
"You not awakening yours isn't shameful. It's just fate. Some fires need more time to burn."
Haruki was stunned for a moment.
His father wasn't the type to speak about emotions or memories, let alone `Hazuki Uchiha´, the mother Haruki barely remembered.
His father, Haruto stood and brushed dust off his robe.
"Besides, you have solid basics. Solid Taijutsu. Elemental control better than most of the clan brats with their fancy red eyes. That's why you'll make a damn good Chunin Instructor soon."
Haruki blinked. "You think I should… become an instructor?"
Haruto nodded once. "A real one. Teach the next batch of genin. Build a legacy that's more than just the Uchiha. The village may not see it now, but strength is more than jutsu and bloodlines."
Haruki sat quietly, absorbing the words.
Then Haruto's tone changed—lower, thoughtful.
"There's something else."
He turned and looked directly at his son.
"Your mother left behind some of her jutsu scrolls. Clan techniques. Fire Style. Lightning Style. Genjutsu. Uchiha counters. All the way to jonin level."
Haruki's eyes widened. "She did?"
Haruto nodded. "She wanted to pass them on to the child who could walk her path. I was saving them… waiting for the day you awakened the Sharingan."
He turned his back slightly, staring into the night.
"But with the way things are now… the clan feels like it's standing on a wire. Everyone's nervous. Watching. Planning. I don't know what's going to happen, Haruki."
Another pause.
"So I'd rather you be ready."
Haruki stood up slowly, eyes serious now.
"You want me to train with them?"
Haruto nodded. "Not the advanced ones. Just the chunin-level scrolls for now. I will give them tomorrow. Master them quickly. At least if something unexpected happens…"
"I won't be helpless," Haruki finished for him.
Haruto glanced back over his shoulder.
"Exactly."
For a long moment, father and son stood beneath the stars. One without the Sharingan, and one without the softness to show his worry. But between them, they had something real, Something unspoken.
To protect their family.
Haruki exhaled.
"Thanks, Dad."
Haruto gave a small grunt and stepped toward the edge of the roof.
"Don't tell Izumi. She'll want to read the Genjutsu scrolls and accidentally fry a bird again."
Haruki chuckled. "No promises."
Haruto dropped down from the roof silently, leaving his son with the stars.
Haruki sat again, heart heavier, but eyes sharper. Something inside him stirred—no, not the Sharingan. Not yet.
But a will to live. To protect.
And maybe… that was the beginning of his Legend.