Chapter 2: The Passage of Time - The Training Ground BeckonsThree years flowed like a swift river current.
Uchiha Genyu was now three years old. Confined largely to his home within the Uchiha compound due to the unsettling nature of his double-pupiled eyes, his world consisted of solitary play and occasional visits to his father's bustling merchant offices. Most clansfolk shrank back upon meeting his gaze, a reaction Genyu had grown accustomed to.
During these three years, Genyu had meticulously confirmed his reality. He was undeniably in the world of Naruto. The current year was Konoha 51. He'd been born in the same year as the jinchūriki, Naruto Uzumaki himself—older by a few months.
'Holy hell,' Genyu mused, stuffing a whole pork knuckle into his small mouth with remarkable efficiency. Grease smeared his cheeks as he reached for another. 'Another day gone. Only about four years left until the Massacre Night.' He chewed with fierce determination, thoughts racing faster than his jaws. 'Gotta convince Papa Bear to get us out of this death trap within the next two years…' His tiny frame seemed a bottomless pit, consuming food at an alarming rate.
"Slow down, sweetheart, you'll choke!" A gentle voice, laced with infinite affection, came from his mother, Senju Kiyomi (粟裕姬). Her pale beauty held traces of lingering fatigue, but her eyes shone with love for her unusual son.
Laughing heartily beside her, Uchiha Hancheng beamed with pride. "Let him eat, my love! Our boy's a prodigy! Devoured three roast chickens at one year old! Ten is nothing now! Even the Akimichi clan would balk!" His ample frame shook with mirth.
Kiyomi shot him a look, equal parts exasperation and fondness. "You spoil him rotten, Hancheng."
After breakfast, Kiyomi handed Genyu a bulging satchel. "For you, my precious. Your first day at the Uchiha training ground. Plenty of snacks inside for when you get hungry." Her worry was palpable, far exceeding Hancheng's bravado.
She watched his small, steady figure walk away, her heart twisting with every step. He moved with surprising confidence for a three-year-old, yet to a mother's eye, he seemed terrifyingly fragile.
"He's growing strong, Kiyomi. Have faith," Hancheng murmured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"He's only three," she whispered, her gaze still fixed on the diminishing figure.
"Three? Fugaku's brat, Itachi, graduated from the Academy at seven! He's eight now and already awakened his Sharingan! And Shisui…" Hancheng's voice hardened with resolve. "Our Genyu won't be overshadowed by them!"
Kiyomi's beautiful eyes flickered with a complex emotion. "I don't wish him to be a genius," she murmured softly, almost to herself. "I only wish him peace. A quiet life. A family of his own someday…" Her deepest desire was simple maternal hope – a safe, happy, ordinary life for her child.
Hancheng sighed, the sound heavy. He understood. The unspoken danger looming over their clan, the prejudice against their son… it weighed on him too. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called after Genyu, his booming voice carrying across the manicured grounds: "Son! Remember! If the training's too hard, you come home! Your father can afford to let you nap all day! For life!" His declaration held fierce love – a desire to see his son shine, yes, but an even stronger desire to shield him. Even if Genyu achieved nothing, Hancheng's wealth could sustain him in idle comfort forever. Ten roast cows a day? A trifle.
Genyu raised a small hand in acknowledgment without looking back. "'Kay."
Uchiha Clan Training Ground
The air hummed with focused energy and the sharp thwack of thrown projectiles. The training ground, a sprawling area funded entirely by Hancheng's gold, was where the Uchiha clan honed its future warriors. Children aged three to their early teens filled the space. Some clumsily practiced basic taijutsu stances, others hurled kunai and shuriken at straw targets, while a few sat cross-legged, brows furrowed in concentration, striving to unlock the coveted Sharingan.
Among the thirty-odd children, one stood out. Uchiha Itachi, now eight, moved with preternatural grace. His wrist flicked, sending a shuriken slicing through the air to embed itself dead-center in a wooden post ten meters away. Each throw was economical, flawless.
"Wow! Big brother's amazing!" A much smaller boy, barely four, watched with stars in his large, dark eyes. Uchiha Sasuke clumsily mimicked his brother's stance, a blunt practice shuriken clutched in his tiny hand. "I wanna be just like you when I grow up!"
Nearby, two Jonin instructors clad in the Uchiha police uniform observed. Uchiha Shin, the senior instructor, nodded approvingly. "Itachi's talent… it's extraordinary. His potential is limitless." Itachi was the clan's radiant beacon of hope.
His companion, Uchiha Tetsu, nodded grimly. "He rivals Shisui already. Graduated at seven, awakened the Sharingan at eight… a true prodigy."
Their gaze shifted to Sasuke, diligently trying to copy his idol. "The younger one, Sasuke… shows promise too. Good focus for his age," Shin remarked. Tetsu gave a noncommittal grunt. The rest of the children displayed varying levels of competence – decent, perhaps even good by civilian standards, but paling next to the brilliance of Fugaku's sons.
Suddenly, Shin stiffened. "Did we… forget something?"
Tetsu's eyes widened slightly. He slapped his forehead. "Hai! Today… Genyu is supposed to start."
"Genyu… the young master!" Shin muttered, a complex mix of professional duty and personal apprehension tightening his features. They were, technically, employees of the boy's father.
Exchanging a look laden with unspoken thoughts – curiosity, dread, duty – they quickly set the main group on independent exercises and moved towards the training ground entrance.
They spotted him then. A small figure, dwarfed by the practice dummies and weapon racks, walking towards them with unnerving steadiness. He carried a satchel almost as big as he was. His face was cherubic, round with baby fat, but his steps were deliberate, unhurried.
As he drew closer, Shin knelt slightly to be less imposing. "Genyu. Welcome."
The boy stopped before him, tilting his head back to meet Shin's gaze. There was no childish fear, no shyness. Only a profound, unsettling calm. His eyes – those infamous double-pupiled eyes, one ringed in gold, the other in silver – locked onto Shin's own Sharingan. Genyu gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Shin felt an inexplicable jolt. He'd heard the whispers, the term "monster," but facing those eyes was different. It was like staring into deep, shifting galaxies – vast, ancient, utterly inscrutable. A shiver traced its way down his spine, completely unrelated to the weather. A treacherous thought wormed its way past his ingrained clan prejudice:
Is this truly an abomination… or something else entirely?
"You…" Shin began, his voice slightly rougher than intended, unsure how to address the small, unnerving figure before him.