After a few seconds of sitting quietly, Uchiha Souji finally understood something very important:
Talking was dangerous.
Talking led to misunderstandings.
Misunderstandings led to trouble.
And trouble led to dying early.
As the saying went:
"Say more → more mistakes. Say less → fewer mistakes. Say nothing → absolutely safe."
Souji nodded in approval of his own wisdom.
If Uchiha Itachi and Uchiha Shisui were going to keep misinterpreting every breath he took as some profound political prophecy, then the safest strategy was simple:
Never talk to them again.
To cement this decision, Souji pulled out the new school textbooks and began flipping through them.
"Birth of the Will of Fire."
"One Hundred Jutsu Every Ninja Must Learn."
"The Third Hokage's Inspirational Journey."
"Why Grandpa Hokage Is the Best Grandpa."
"Understanding Fire — The Spirit, Not the Jutsu."
He stared blankly.
If there was ever material designed to wipe someone's backside, it was these books.
Souji tossed one aside and sighed deeply.
"This village is doomed…"
He said it quietly, but not quietly enough.
Uchiha Itachi, who had just returned to his seat, heard it perfectly.
His eyes widened.
What does he mean? What flaw did he find? Is there a deeper meaning behind these books? Did Souji discover corruption? Hypocrisy? Weak leadership? A fundamental flaw in the Will of Fire philosophy itself?
Itachi didn't ask.
He didn't dare ask.
Instead, he immediately flipped open his own textbook and began scanning every line with intensity.
I need to find it. Whatever Souji saw, I must see too.
Souji, unaware of the brain tsunami happening beside him, rested his chin on his hand and stared lazily at the teacher.
Under the hypnotic drone of lectures, dismissal finally arrived.
Souji made his escape attempt—
—but Itachi appeared beside him like a dark curl of destiny.
"Souji, this is Brother Shisui! Brother Shisui, this is Souji!"
In the next instant, Uchiha Shisui blurred into existence in front of Souji.
A flash. A breeze. A whisper of movement.
Souji hadn't even realized Shisui was approaching.
Yeah… that's definitely Shisui. The man moves like the Flying Thunder God without needing any kunai.
Out loud, Souji kept his face calm.
"Hello, Brother Shisui."
"Hi, Souji! I was planning to practice with Itachi after school. Want to join us?"
Souji's heart slammed into his ribs.
Practice?
Practice??
If Fugaku hadn't caught him training in the dead of night, he wouldn't even be in this mess right now.
Practice was the root of all evil.
He immediately shook his head with a speed even Shisui would admire.
"No, no, Brother Shisui, I still have something to do. You two go ahead."
And before either prodigy could blink, Souji vanished from the conversation like a fleeing raccoon, leaving Shisui staring into empty air with an awkward smile.
"Ah… he rejected me."
It was almost comical.
Shisui — top-tier prodigy, widely adored, idol of dozens, feared by enemies — had just been told "no" by a seven-year-old.
He scratched the back of his head and looked at Itachi helplessly.
"Your new friend is hard to deal with. Does he… not like training?"
Itachi shook his head confidently.
"Souji is a genius. He must have his own training path. He's already strong. He must be training in ways we don't understand."
Shisui blinked.
"Is that so?"
Then it happened.
Itachi opened his mouth again.
"Brother Shisui, today Souji said something incredible. He told me the Uchiha clan needs more friends if we want to survive in the village."
BOOM.
Shisui froze.
Then his brain exploded like a flash bomb.
A thunderbolt of enlightenment dropped straight onto his skull.
His eyes widened as if he had glimpsed the ultimate truth of the universe.
We… don't have friends.
It's not that we're hated so we have no friends…
It's that we have no friends, so we're hated.
The issue isn't the village versus Uchiha.
It's the Uchiha versus everyone else within the village!
Families formed the village.
If families disliked Uchiha…
The village disliked Uchiha.
Power flowed from the bottom up.
It all made sense!
Shisui placed a trembling hand on Itachi's shoulder.
"Did he really say that?"
Itachi answered honestly:
"He didn't say it directly. But the meaning was the same."
If Souji had heard this, he would have vomited blood on the spot.
He had never said any such thing.
He had only pointed at a pretty girl.
Everything else came from Itachi's imagination.
---
Meanwhile, Souji leisurely made his way toward Ichiraku Ramen, determined to check whether the conspiracy theory was true—
Is Teuchi really an Ōtsutsuki in disguise?
He muttered while walking.
"It's really unlucky to run into that traitor today…"
He meant Shisui, of course.
To Souji, Shisui was the most obvious spy alive.
Shisui's hair curled.
The entire Uchiha clan had straight, black, silky hair.
Some had bedhead.
Some had messy bangs.
But curls?
Only Shisui.
In a clan of straight hair, he was a walking alarm bell.
Shisui being a spy was not a question.
It was an established fact.
As Souji continued grumbling about how Shisui should have been "cleaned up by Fugaku long ago," a raspy cough suddenly echoed from ahead.
"Cough… cough… cough…"
It was the kind of cough that made listeners wince and instinctively move three kilometers away.
Souji didn't run, though.
He already knew who it was.
Moonlight Hayate.
The future Shippuden examiner, the man whose most powerful jutsu was tuberculosis.
Hayate stepped out of a building, wiping his mouth with a tissue. He noticed Souji staring at him and gave a polite, apologetic smile.
"Sorry to scare you. This is just… an old condition. Not contagious."
Souji nodded stiffly, thinking:
Brother, with that cough, even the Shinigami would keep a safe distance.
But aloud, he kept his tone polite.
---