SHISUI UCHIHA
I stood in the center of one of the Uchiha training grounds. Eyes closed. Breath steady. Shuriken in hand.
The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the colored leaves overhead. The air was cool, crisp, calm. No outside expectations. No elders watching from the shadows, scrutinizing every move.
Just me, my breath, and the hum of chakra coursing through my body.
Around me, wooden post stood, each one scarred with countless marks—scuffs, dents, and slashes that converged toward the bullseye at the center.
Three hours had passed since I started, but it didn't feel it. The repetition, the rhythm, it was all automatic now. A blur of movement, of muscle memory.
This was Uchiha Shurikenjutsu. Precision. Speed. Mastery. Not for show, but for battle. For the inevitable war I would be a part of, if it didn't end soon–if.
Chakra pulsed at the soles of my feet, and I leaped, propelling myself upwards toward the thick branches of the surrounding trees. Higher. Higher until—
Now.
My eyes remained closed, my body spinning in midair. I didn't need them for this.
Not anymore.
Not after hours, days—years of practice.
The first shuriken left my hand, angling forty degrees to the right. The second, thirty-two degrees to the left.
Another followed, and another.
They flew in quick succession, slicing through the air with a soft whip-whip-whip, my body turning like a wheel.
It was instinctive, now. The way my muscles contracted, the angle of my wrist, the timing of each release. Like a weapon. The elders had spent enough time sharpening me into one.
The satisfying thunk of steel meeting wood sounded around me. Then, the sharper ping of shuriken colliding with one another, altering their paths midair. Adjustments. Corrections. Perfection.
Still airborne, I continued spinning.
Only a moment had passed. Just a breath. But that's how fast things happened on the field—in a moment.
I am young. Short. Lacking in strength and the battlefield experience of the older shinobi.
I was well informed of that.
I had to be faster. Faster than anyone else. Fast enough to recover from mistakes before they got me killed. Fast enough to make split-second decisions before the enemy could. Fast enough to survive.
Fast enough to thrive.
With the final shuriken thrown, my right foot touched down lightly on the forest floor.
My eyes opened as the last thud echoed through the training ground.
I didn't need to look. I didn't have to check the targets. I already knew the result.
Every throw was perfect.
They always were.
###
The Yamanaka compound felt different than the Uchiha's. Lighter. Airier. Warmer.
As I walked up to the gates, my eyes traced the tall stone walls that surrounded the compound.
Unlike the Uchiha's fortress-like enclosure—imposing, dark, built to keep everything and everyone out—the Yamanaka's felt… open. The air here wasn't suffocating or heavy with the weight of old traditions.
It felt free.
The guards at the entrance were a perfect example: one lazily leaning against the wall with a senbon hanging out of his mouth, the other leafing through a book, clearly indifferent to the world around him.
If these were Uchiha guards, that posture would've gotten them a week's worth of night shifts. Minimum.
As I approached, their eyes briefly flicked to the Uchiha crest on my chest, then back to mine.
"Hello," I greeted them with a slight bow, keeping my tone respectful. "My name is Shisui Uchiha. I'm here to visit Satoshi Yamanaka. He said you'd be expecting me?"
One of the guards glanced at his partner, raising an eyebrow. Then he looked back at me. "You're just like he said."
That made me pause. Like who said? Satoshi?
The other guard sighed, closing his book. "Disregard him. Follow the path until it splits into three. Keep going straight, and when you see the river, hang a right. That'll take you to his house."
I nodded and bowed again. "Thank you, Yamanaka-san." Then I started down the path.
Why had I come here for dinner? That was the real question. And honestly, I wasn't entirely sure. Part of me wanted to learn that genjutsu he'd used on me.
That was certain.
But there was something else about Satoshi that intrigued me. Something beneath the surface that I couldn't quite place. Was he like me? Under the same pressure?
And if I'm being really honest… I was curious about his cooking. He claimed to be good, and I wanted to see if he could live up to it. Not that I cared too much. But, well... I was a bit of a foodie.
Okay, maybe it was a little immature, but a small part of me found the idea of his food not being good satisfying. One thing I'd be better at than him. I've never felt competitive with anyone before. Was this what it felt like?
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
As I walked deeper into the compound, I couldn't help but notice how different it was from the Uchiha grounds.
Blond children ran through the streets, laughing, playing, smiling, as if we weren't currently in a war.
It wasn't that Uchiha children didn't laugh or play—it was just… rarer.
Most of us were taught restraint from an early age, to hold back our emotions unless we were around those we trusted. But here, it was like that restraint didn't exist.
The smell of freshly baked bread wafted toward me as I passed a bakery where old women carried baskets of pastries. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until that moment.
And then, there was another scent. Something sweeter. Maybe… flowers? This compound felt alive, vibrant, in a way that the Uchiha compound never did.
A strange feeling tightened in my chest, as I turned right and finally saw Satoshi's house at the end of the path.
It was beautiful, big too—two stories, a large garden, the river pulling softly toward the back of the house.
The architecture was traditional, with wood panels and sliding doors, a stone path leading to the gate, which framed the entire property. It looked peaceful, like a sanctuary.
Then I saw an elderly man—no, more like a bear of a man—lifting something that looked like a massive wooden box, probably heavier than anything I'd ever lifted in my life.
"Satoshi, your package arrived! Where do you want it?" the man bellowed.
Before I could take another step, a cool voice slithered into my ear. "So you're the Uchiha boy Satoshi's told us about."
I jumped back and instinctively snapped my hand into a fist, ready to defend myself.
Whipping around, I found myself staring into a pair of narrow, snake-like eyes behind thin glasses. The man was wiry, and his gaze locked onto mine like a... predator—assessing prey.
"Oh, did I scare you, boy?" he said with a smile. "Looks like you need to work on your spatial awareness." He smirked and turned, basically slithering away into the house.
My heart was still pounding in my chest when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I stiffened, but this time I didn't jump.
I turned to find another Yamanaka standing behind me—a mountain of a man with muscles that looked like they belonged to someone whose job was to work out 24/7—scars crisscrossing his exposed arms.
One scar, in particular, ran from his temple down to his jaw. His eyes—deep, intense—were the kind of eyes I'd seen before. Eyes like my clan's Elders. Eyes that had seen... a lot.
"He's right," the man said, his voice low, a rumble. "Your spatial awareness needs some work. You should come practice with Satoshi tomorrow. We'll be working on that."
I swallowed. Is everyone here so… unique?
The man gestured toward the house. "Let's go in, kid. Everyone's already here."
I hesitated. Everyone? This is a gathering? But all I said was, "Yes, Yamanaka-san."
"Just, Daiki, kid."
I followed Daiki inside, still feeling a little off-balance.
As soon as I stepped inside the house, the first thing that hit me wasn't the sight of it, but the smell.
It was like being wrapped in a blanket but made of food. My mouth watered instantly.
I wasn't even sure what it was—something savory, something rich—but it had this way of filling the air like I'd walked into a different world. If this was Satoshi's cooking… I might… I don't even want to admit it.
The scent was overwhelming in the best possible way. My stomach growled involuntarily, loudly, as if I hadn't had anything to eat in a year.
I might have been standing there, slack-jawed like a fool, if not for a heavy pat on my shoulder.
"Careful," said Daiki. "Don't let the smell knock you out before you even taste it."
I blinked and cleared my throat, embarrassed that I'd been so obvious. "I'm fine," I said, though my stomach disagreed, letting out a grumble.
He chuckled. "Don't worry. Happens to everyone the first time." He gave me another pat, one that nearly knocked the wind out of me, before gesturing ahead. "Come on, kid."
We started down a long hallway, and I took in the house as we walked. It was beautiful—traditional, yes, but warm. Inviting. What a home should feel like.
Polished wooden floors, rice paper doors, and soft light filtering in from the windows. There were small, decorative touches everywhere: a vase of freshly cut flowers here, a calligraphy scroll there.
Everything had a place, but it wasn't rigid. It was the kind of home where you didn't have to worry about stepping out of line.
It felt… lived in.
As we passed through another room, my eyes caught on a painting hanging on the wall. I stopped instantly.
The painting was of a woman, and without exaggeration, it was the most beautiful painting I'd ever seen.
The woman sat in front of a garden, holding a teacup in one hand; her long golden hair was flowing mid-breeze. The painting felt alive. Her smile, her eyes. It felt real. Alive.
"Beautiful painting, right?" came a voice in front of me. I looked up to meet Daiki's gaze.
I nodded and simply said, "It is."
After a beat, I tore my eyes away from the painting and followed him into the dining room.
When I entered, I was met with the same group of elders from the Academy. They sat around the low table, chatting, but as soon as I walked in, they all went silent. The air in the room shifted.
Their eyes were on me—heavy, assessing, just like how Elder Shinji's eyes felt on me.
There were also two new faces.
One was the woman from the painting. She sat at the head of the table. Next to her, a young boy—looked a bit younger than me—clutching a stuffed animal tight to his chest.
I quickly bowed. "Good evening, Yamanaka-samas. I'm Shisui Uchiha. Thank you for having me."
No one responded. They just… stared.
The pressure in the room mounted. I could feel a bead of sweat forming on the back of my neck… Um... What's going on?
Then I heard Satoshi's voice in my head.
[Don't worry about them. They just like messing with people.]
I about jumped. I'll never get used to that.
[Alright, everyone,] Satoshi's voice was still in my head. I could somehow feel the slight annoyance in his tone, [You can stop. 'Please' don't scare away my guest.]
After a beat, the bear-looking man chuckled and welcomed me to the room, introducing the others. They held an aura of superiority like the Uchiha elders did, but I could feel the warmth from them–some of them.
It was different. Refreshing.
Satoshi appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Dinner's almost done," he said. "But while we wait, Shisui—how about I go ahead and show you how it works."
Elder Nao raised an eyebrow, "You're teaching him something?"
"False Present," Satoshi said.
Nao looked at Satoshi, then me, and then, after a beat, gave a slow nod. I guess that was his sign of approval because Satoshi hung the towel over his shoulder, turned to me, and motioned toward the back door. "Let's go."
I followed him outside, stepping into a quiet courtyard.
"So," Satoshi began, standing a few paces away, his arms crossed, "False Present is a passive genjutsu. It's not like the typical sensory illusions most shinobi are used to. The key difference is that it doesn't overwhelm all five senses at once. Instead, it only subtly alters the perception of time and sequence."
"Time and sequence?" I asked. He got right to it. No lead-up.
Satoshi nodded. "You manipulate what someone believes has happened. It's about making them think one thing happened when something else did. Like they're still in the present moment when, in reality, you've already moved ahead. Think of it like altering their perception, just a second. A glitch in their awareness."
Glitch? I crossed my arms. "And how do you cast it without hand seals?"
He smiled. "It's seal-less. You only need a pulse of chakra, either through sound or physical touch, to plant the genjutsu. Touch is the easiest. The tricky part is setting the trigger."
I raised a brow. "What do you mean by trigger?"
Satoshi stepped forward and raised his hand, gesturing for me to watch.
"In the Academy test, when I raised my hand, that was the trigger I set. I used a pulse of chakra when I patted your shoulder before the fight. That planted the genjutsu, but it remained dormant until I activated it with the hand raise. When the trigger activates, the target's mind plays a false version of the event."
He let his hand drop. "Simple, but effective."
Simple…? Oh, and before the test?
"So you cheated?"
"We're training to be shinobi, Shisui." He said, matter of fact. "I was just... teaching you to always be on your toes." I spotted a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
My brows knitted together, but I refrained from beating a dead horse.
Even if he was a cheater, he was somewhat right. Shinobi always had to be ready—the elders have repeated that more than enough times that it was engrained in my bones—or, I thought it was.
"I never heard of a genjutsu like this before." Planting a genjutsu to activate with a trigger… was much more difficult than Satoshi made it seem.
"That's understandable. I created it."
I froze. "You… created it?"
Satoshi nodded again as if it was the most casual thing in the world. "It still requires some re-working, but so far, it's proven useful. Go ahead and try it."
Just like that? "... Oookay. Show me how."
He stepped closer, "For this genjutsu, chakra control is everything. Use too little, and it won't take hold. Too much, and the target will sense it immediately. Genjutsu is about finesse, not force."
He held out his hand, tapping his fingertips lightly against his palm.
"Focus your yin chakra here. Picture exactly what you want your me to see—every detail, every movement. The more vivid the image in your mind, the more real it'll feel to them. And make sure you have a clear intention for when you want it to happen."
I nodded as I focused on gathering chakra into my fingertips.
Satoshi continued, "Once you have a clear mental image, you need a trigger. A trigger is what activates the illusion, so it has to be something subtle—a snap, a shift in your stance, a gesture you can do naturally. It needs to be easy enough for you to use, but distinct enough that you can rely on it."
I took a breath, visualizing the effect I wanted to create. I imagined Satoshi flinching back, as if I'd thrown a punch that wasn't actually there. My trigger would be a simple hand raise, the same as what he did for the test.
"Okay," Satoshi said as he watched me. "Now, try it. Activate your trigger."
I raised my hand, intending to activate it, but… nothing happened.
Satoshi remained perfectly still. He just stood there with a smile.
Frowning, I tried again, focusing on activating the illusion.
Still... nothing.
"It'll take time to get it right," he said. "Genjutsu is about precision. I don't expect you to master it on the first try."
My eyebrow twitched. His tone was calm, but it was how he said it—something about his words rubbed me the wrong way.
"I'll get it," I muttered, more to myself than to him.
Satoshi shrugged, entirely unbothered. "Of course you will." He turned, gesturing toward the house. "Dinner's ready. We can try again after we eat."
And with that, he strolled back toward the house, leaving me standing there, staring down at my hand and wondering exactly where I messed up.
He made it sound so simple, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Send yin chakra, set a trigger. That's all? Just visualize, set the intention, and it would work?
My fingers flexed involuntarily as I replayed his instructions in my mind.
I took a breath to calm my thoughts. I could figure it out later.
For now, though… food.
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