The Uchiha elders had prepared the perfect stage.
Under thousands of watching eyes, Uchiha Soren did not hesitate.
He let his chakra surge.
He let ambition breathe.
"Susanoo."
From the earth, a blood-red titan erupted.
At first it was a half-formed skeleton—the raw frame of a heavenly warrior—wrapped gradually in fleshy chakra, tendon-like fibres, and burning crimson armour. The monstrous figure rose ten meters high, glowing like a demon forged from hatred and divine fire.
Gasps rippled through the crowds.
But Soren was not satisfied.
He poured Mangekyō power into it—so much that the corners of his eyes throbbed painfully—and the Susanoo expanded. The bones lengthened. Plates of armour grew. A torso formed. A helm crowned the head. Then legs—thick as pillars—slammed into the ground, shaking the street.
In the span of a heartbeat a seventy-meter colossus stood over the village.
The Susanoo raised a katana the size of a watchtower—nearly forty meters long—the metal ringing with a thunderclap when it slid free.
And atop the enormous helm, Soren drew his own blade.
The wind answered instantly.
A hurricane roared around him—sending banners flapping, knocking genin off their feet, and driving dust swirling in spirals up the street.
Villagers gaped.
Shinobi dropped to their knees.
Even seasoned jōnin stared wide-eyed at the god of war towering above them.
"He is our Young Lord!"
"The Uchiha are the strongest!"
"Uchiha! Uchiha!"
The chant swelled, shaking rooftops.
Young children stared upward as if witnessing myth turn real. Tiny tomoe glimmered faintly in several pupils—seeds of Sharingan awakening under awe, fear, and pride.
And in the crowd… future legends watched.
The Next Generation Witnesses a God
A pale boy with long black hair and eerie golden pupils lingered in the back, face unreadable—Orochimaru. Fascinated by death and the secrets of life, he stared at the Susanoo with ravenous curiosity.
"Sharingan…" he whispered—half admiration, half vow.
Beside him, white-haired Jiraiya, brash and grinning, threw an arm around Orochimaru's shoulder.
"If I had that, every girl in Konoha would swoon for me!" he boasted wildly.
Orochimaru did not humour him.
But a bright laugh broke between them.
A golden-haired girl, cheeks dimpled, ponytail swaying—Tsunade—grinned with childish pride.
"The Uchiha's Susanoo is strong, sure," she said, "but it's nothing compared to Grandpa's Wood Release."
She puffed out her chest.
"Just wait. I'll awaken Wood Release one day. Then you'll see who's strongest."
Orochimaru's gaze sharpened—Wood Release.
A kekkei genkai that could build, bind, and crush entire armies.
His mind spun.
A quiet boy nearby—white hair, calm eyes—watched with a gentle smile. Hatake Sakumo, future White Fang, took in the scene with the quiet ache of youth.
Further down the road, a dark-skinned boy in a green tunic and orange scarf—Maito—punched at the air, shouting:
"This is youth! THIS IS YOUTH!!"
Jiraiya groaned. Orochimaru ignored him. Tsunade rolled her eyes.
Uchiha Glory and Senju Silence
On the boulevard the celebration became an Uchiha pageant: banners snapping, voices thundering, the giant Susanoo dominating everything.
From the Senju contingent, Mito Uzumaki watched in silence, her face composed but unreadable.
Inside, a flicker of amusement stirred.
Without Eternal Mangekyō, this show is only bright paper, she thought.
But if the Uchiha ever awakened Eternal eyes again…
Then the world could tilt into chaos or glory.
Either way, she would watch with unflinching interest.
Beside her, Senju Moriki nearly boiled with envy.
This spectacle should have belonged to the Senju.
The glory, the awe, the legend… all stolen by Uchiha hands.
The Declaration
The shouts of "Uchiha! Uchiha!" rolled like thunder through the village.
Soren stood atop the Susanoo's helm—blade raised, eyes burning—drinking in every heartbeat of awe.
The wind stilled.
The crowd held its breath.
And his voice—quiet but unmistakably certain—cut through the world like a blade through silk:
"Before us, none can stand."
A declaration.
A threat.
A prophecy.
And a promise the shinobi world would remember for generations.
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