After the feast, the group strolled along the streets of Konoha.
Yūgao patted her overstuffed belly. "Ahh, that was such a great meal. If only there were no war—we could enjoy meat like this every day."
Then she suddenly turned her head. "Hey, Big Brother Shin, how can we make war disappear? If anyone can do it, it's you, right?"
Over the years, Shin usually spoke the least, yet whenever the others had questions, they always asked him.
Because no matter what they asked, he always gave answers they could accept. Without realizing it, he had naturally become the core of their little group.
Honestly, being treated as the leader of a bunch of kids was pretty embarrassing for Shin.
Fortunately, none of them were childish, and he truly did need friends his own age—if only to reassure his parents.
He could be precocious, intelligent, disciplined—but he couldn't become abnormal or withdrawn. A "problem child" would raise far more concerns.
Usually, Hayate and Shisui were fine; their questions were at least normal. Only the little loli Yūgao loved asking strange ones.
But because this was wartime, her question struck right at everyone's curiosity. Even Hayate's classmate, Tsubaki, subconsciously focused on Shin's answer.
No one liked war. Yet ironically, the Ninja World believed that Ninjas were born for war.
Shin smiled and asked Yūgao in return, "This world has day and night, men and women. Likewise, where there is war, there is peace."
"So tell me—what would happen if the world had only daytime, or only men?"
Shisui and the others fell into thought. Yūgao, whose brain was clearly outsourced, refused to waste her own brain cells and pressed him instead. "What would happen?"
"Only daytime—the sun would scorch the world until it melted, and all life would die out. Only men—humans couldn't reproduce. Humanity would go extinct, though other creatures would survive. Do you understand?"
"I don't really get it," Yūgao said honestly, "but it feels like you're saying war will never disappear, right, Big Brother Shin?"
"More or less. That's not something you need to worry about now. Just train properly."
"Okay, I got it!"
"Good. Let's head to the academy." Shin cut the topic short.
Hayate and the others didn't think too deeply about it, but in Uchiha Shisui's captivating, large eyes, there were clearly many unresolved questions.
There were no classes that afternoon, but the graduation celebration was about to begin, and Shin's group could attend to get a feel for the atmosphere.
The ceremony hadn't started yet, but the multipurpose classroom was already half full.
Shisui was still turning over the earlier conversation in his mind, trying to dig deeper—yet ultimately finding no clear answers.
"Shin, can we find a quiet place to talk?" Seeing that this guy was clearly overthinking again, Shin didn't refuse. "Sure."
For Ninja, whether the school rooftop was locked made little difference—they could run up walls anyway.
The rooftop was very quiet, as if the noisy classroom below belonged to an entirely different world.
After a moment of silence, Shisui asked, "Shin, I know you're stronger than me. Why did you refuse early graduation?"
Shin first extended his perception to confirm no one was eavesdropping, then replied calmly, "No special reason. I just want more time to cultivate. And don't forget—we're only eight."
"But it's wartime," Shisui pressed. "Comrades are dying on the battlefield, and the Village's Ninja numbers are dropping sharply. Doesn't Konoha need us now?"
"And then what?" Shin countered. "What's the point of letting seven- or eight-year-olds graduate? They'd still need years of training. You want to send them to the front lines? Might as well kill them outright."
Shisui frowned. "But what you're saying doesn't align with the will of fire. Is this how you understand it?"
"Then tell me," Shin asked, "what is the core of the will of fire?"
Shisui answered without hesitation, "Where leaves dance, the flame burns on. The fire will continue to illuminate the Village and nurture new leaves."
"Perfect recitation, Shisui-kun." Shin nodded. "Yes, the will of fire is about protection and sacrifice.
But let me ask you—are you a withered leaf meant to fall and nourish the tree, or a newly sprouted bud?"
"I… I…" Shisui froze. "Shin, are you saying my understanding of the will of fire is wrong? That even… Konoha pushing us to graduate early is wrong? That Hokage-sama is wrong?"
His heart surged violently. He had never imagined that his friend's interpretation of the will of fire could be so different.
And yet—it wasn't wrong. He had simply never thought of it that way. He had always equated the will of fire with sacrifice and devotion, never once considering his own age.
Looking at it now, he really was just a tender new leaf on a towering tree. It wasn't his turn to burn yet.
After all, Konoha had not been invaded. It hadn't reached a true life-or-death crisis.
The new interpretation clashed violently with the creed he had believed in for years, buzzing painfully inside his skull.
Shin gazed toward the distant Hokage Rock and spoke slowly. "I never said that. Don't put words in my mouth."
"The will of fire isn't any one person's doctrine. It belongs to every citizen of Konoha. Everyone has the right to interpret it. There is no absolute right or wrong."
"That's impossible," Shisui said urgently. "There has to be right and wrong—there must be. Right, Shin?"
"If you insist, then fine," Shin said calmly. "There is. The strongest is right."
"So, Shisui—if your strength isn't enough, train peacefully. Don't dwell on this, or you'll hit a dead end."
"No," Shisui shook his head. "We can't use strength as the measure of right and wrong. That's a crooked path."
"Then answer me this," Shin replied. "If your ideals are correct, universally acknowledged—but someone stronger kills you, do those ideals still matter?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Shisui blurted out. "Others would agree with them, wouldn't they?"
"Yes," Shin said. "Correct ideas will naturally find supporters. But their voices are faint. They need a megaphone—and power is that megaphone."
"But doesn't that mean the strongest rules everything?" Shisui asked. "Then what's the point of the will of fire?"
Shin sighed softly. "Essentially… you're not wrong. This is the Ninja World."
"But power without correct ideals is chaos. And ideals without power are just empty words."
"The ideal is our Ninja code. Power is the guarantee that this code won't be twisted at will."
"So that's what you meant…" Shisui murmured. "That makes sense."
Seeing that Shisui had finally grasped something, Shin was about to suggest heading back down—
When he suddenly sensed a cold surge of Chakra converging around Shisui's eyes.
There was no mistake. And yet—it was ridiculous.
Shin stared as Shisui's brown-black irises turned crimson, began to spin, and two black tomoe surfaced.
He had awakened the Sharingan on the spot.
Straight to Two-Tomoe.
Good news: Shisui would now almost certainly graduate early and wouldn't be assigned to Shin's team—so Shin wouldn't become the expendable emotional catalyst.
Bad news: the Sharingan had awakened because of him. Through conversation.
Let's just hope he didn't end up as the Uchiha Clan's resident counselor—professional eye-opener.
Shisui sensed something was off. Seeing Shin staring at him intently, he asked blankly, "What's wrong, Shin? Do I look strange?"
"Strange?" Shin smiled faintly. "Congratulations. You've gained impressive power. What an enviable clan."
He raised his hand, releasing Chakra and forming a smooth water mirror—child's play for him now, the combined result of advanced Chakra control and Water-nature refinement.
Shisui stared at his reflection, stunned. "That's me? I awakened the Sharingan? But the clan elders said you had to lose something first…"
"Still don't get it?" Shin said calmly. "Are the words of so-called authorities always true?"
"This world is complex. We have to keep learning and experiencing it as we grow. Don't rush for answers while you're young—most of them are incomplete, wrong, or traps laid by others."
Shisui nodded, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "I understand. Thanks, Shin. You're truly a good friend."
Shin leaned back slightly.
The sincerity was touching—but paired with those eerily crimson Sharingan eyes, the effect was unsettling.
At that moment, Shin finally understood how Senju Tobirama must have felt.
"Innately evil Uchiha brat—I'll personally—!"
Noticing Shisui still looked ready to ask more questions, Shin quickly cut him off. "We'll talk later. The ceremony's about to start. Let's go downstairs."
A simple discussion of the will of fire already pushed you straight to Two-Tomoe.
If we kept talking, you'd probably awaken the Mangekyō right in front of me.