It had been a year since that night when I turned three. I still remembered the weight of that wooden sword in my hands and the look of astonishment my parents exchanged when they realized I was not an ordinary child.
Now, at four years old — though I looked closer to six — my life had turned into a routine of discipline, sweat, and blood.
The Chakra Training
The first step my parents demanded was mastery over chakra. They believed that any worthy Uchiha should know his inner energy before even dreaming of molding it into complex techniques.
My father woke me before sunrise. He made me sit in lotus position on a cold stone in our backyard. The dawn breeze chilled my bones, but I remained still.
— Breathe, Arashi, he said in his firm yet calm voice. Feel the flow inside you. Chakra is the river that runs beneath the skin. If you don't learn to tame it, it will swallow you.
At first, I only felt random tingling: a warmth rising through my belly, a coldness sliding down my legs. Chaotic, untamed. But over time, I began to recognize the pattern. Chakra had rhythm, like a silent song.
My mother complemented the training. She made me balance leaves on my forehead, hands, and even feet. The goal was simple: concentrate chakra in a specific point and keep it steady. In my first attempts, the leaves fell within seconds. I would growl in frustration, but my mother smiled.
— An eye that despairs never sees. Calm down, Arashi. Every leaf that falls is a lesson.
After weeks of practice, I managed to hold three leaves at once, then four. Little by little, I felt my chakra obeying me, like a muscle I strengthened daily.
The peak came when I decided, on my own, to try climbing a tree. It was a technique I remembered Naruto would learn much later. I had no one to guide me through it, only the vague memory of my past life.
At first, I fell countless times, scraping arms and knees. But I kept going. By the end of one afternoon, I managed to run ten steps up the trunk before falling. Even covered in bruises, I smiled. I was advancing faster than any child my age should.
The Way of the Sword
If chakra was the foundation, kenjutsu was the blood running through my veins.
My father accepted no excuses. Every morning, after chakra training, he put me in the yard with the wooden sword. The goal was simple: strike until my body could take no more.
— An Uchiha without a sword is incomplete. Fire needs a cut to expand.
At first, my movements were clumsy, but my mind — carrying the memories of an adult from my previous world — adjusted quickly. I observed my father's stance, the way he moved lightly, as if he were the very wind cutting across the battlefield.
He made me repeat movements until my muscles burned. Vertical slashes, horizontal, diagonal. Thrusts. Defense. And, above all, rhythm.
Once, I collapsed on the ground, exhausted and panting. He approached, his shadow falling over my face. I thought he would scold me, but instead, he placed his heavy hand on my shoulder.
— You fall like a weakling, but you rise as an Uchiha. Remember that.
Those words engraved themselves into my heart.
Over time, I began to feel the sword as an extension of my body. Movements that once required effort became natural. I was still just a child, but I could already face unprepared adults with nothing but speed and precision.
The Inner Fire
While my father forged my body with the sword, my mother awakened in me the talent for ninjutsu.
We started with the basics: hand seals. My small hands struggled with the speed, but my mind already knew what came next.
The first jutsu I learned was Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu, the fire technique that defined the clan. I remember the unique sensation of molding chakra into my lungs, turning it into heat, and releasing it as flames.
On the first attempt, I nearly fainted, coughing out nothing but a pathetic spark. My mother laughed, but not mockingly.
— Even the greatest bonfires are born from a single ember.
I trained every day. After weeks, the spark became a modest flame. Then, a blazing sphere. By the time I turned four, I could launch a fireball that burned half the wooden target.
My parents exchanged a silent glance. They knew: my talent was revealing itself far too early.
Besides fire, my mother insisted on small genjutsu exercises. Not enough to trap real enemies, but I could already create simple illusions: duplicating my image for a few seconds, distorting sounds, or hiding small objects from sight.
It was little, but for my age, frighteningly advanced.
The Wars of the Era
Even with training, my heart still sought answers. The conversations I overheard among the clan's warriors spoke of bloody battles against the Senju, of endless vengeance, and fragile alliances. My curiosity burned like a dangerous flame.
One night, I sat before my father and asked:
— What's happening with the clan? Why are we always fighting?
He stared at me for a long time, his three-tomoe eyes reflecting the firelight.
— Because this is the fate of an Uchiha, Arashi. We are warriors. We are born in war and we die in it. The Senju are our greatest enemy. But not the only one. The whole world wishes to extinguish our fire, for they fear the power we carry.
My mother added, her voice cold but firm:
— What you see today is only the beginning. Children, men, women… all carry weapons. This era is cruel. And if you wish to survive, you must not only understand that. You must accept it.
Those words weighed heavily on me. I knew, from the memories of my past life, that the Uchiha clan would eventually destroy itself from within, victims of their own pride and the manipulation of fate. But hearing it directly from my parents gave me a painful clarity: I had no time.
If I wanted to change anything, I needed to be stronger than all of them.
A Year of Growth
And so, time passed. Between chakra training, swordplay, ninjutsu, and illusions, my childhood ceased to be a childhood. At four years old, I was no longer an ordinary child.
My muscles were defined for my age. My mind was sharp as my father's blade. My chakra control already allowed me to walk up trees and sustain basic techniques for long periods.
I could face adult warriors in training duels, surprising them with my speed.
One afternoon, after finishing a sequence of sword strikes, I looked at my calloused hands and took a deep breath.
"At four years old… I'm already as strong as Sasuke when he graduated from the Academy… maybe even stronger."
The comparison was inevitable. I remembered Sasuke's abilities, years ahead of where I was now, and realized my timeline was accelerated. I didn't have the luxury of waiting.
I was becoming a weapon. A sharpened flame.
And deep inside, I knew: this was only the beginning