The world slowly came into focus, blurred outlines sharpening as Uchiha Sogetsu's dark eyes fluttered open. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and for a moment, the only sound he could register was the faint rustle of wind outside. He blinked again, steadying his breath, and the faint aroma of something herbal wafted through the air. For a moment, he was disoriented, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried to piece together what had happened. Then it hit him - like a tidal wave crashing into his mind. The memories. The Sharingan. The overwhelming clarity of his surroundings when his eyes had burned crimson.
He sat up slowly, his muscles aching from the strain he'd put on them the night before. The Uchiha compound was quiet at this hour, the faint rustle of the wind outside the only sound breaking the stillness. His hand instinctively reached beside his bed, brushing the air. That's right, he thought ruefully. She's gone, It's just me now.
He reached up to his face, brushing over his eyes. They didn't burn anymore, but he could still feel the lingering sensation of the power coursing through him.
The Sharingan. It was awoken.
Sogetsu closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them again, the room sharpened into perfect focus. Even in the dim light, he could see the faint chakra threads that seemed to pulse in the air, the subtle shifts of shadow and light along the walls. His lips curled into a faint smirk. So this is how it feels… to see through the lens of a Sharingan. If this was the case, he could understand why his clan members were arrogant about the power of their eyes. They had every right to be.
He exhaled, letting the power settle within him. This wasn't the time to marvel at his new abilities. He had a month—only a month—before he'd be thrown into the chaos of war. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that being unprepared was a death sentence.
He was about to get up from the bed when the door opened and a familiar voice broke the silence. "Finally awake, are you?"
Sogetsu turned his head, spotting his uncle striding into the room, a steaming cup of tea in hand. The man's sharp features were softened slightly by an air of concern, though his tone retained its usual coolness.
"You passed out," his uncle said simply, taking a sip of his tea. "Right in the middle of the Fireball Jutsu demonstration. One moment you were watching, the next you were out cold. I brought you home."
The memory came rushing back—his uncle standing proudly, showing him the iconic Uchiha technique. The roaring flames. The overwhelming sensation of heat and light. And then… everything breaking open inside him. His memories. His past life. Mitsukage.
Sogetsu straightened, wincing slightly as the movement tugged at his sore muscles. "The Fireball Jutsu…" he murmured. "Why now?"
His uncle leaned back, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The Doctor said it was a reaction of your subconscious to seeing the Great Fireball, protecting your mind by shutting it down from memories that it didn't want you to remember. Makes sense, I suppose, given the circumstances of your birth."
Sogetsu's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
The older Uchiha set his cup down, his expression darkening. "Your mother… she was kidnapped, just before you were born. ANBU agents from a foreign village—at least, that's what we were told. Your father tracked them down, but by the time he found her, it was too late. She was already in labor. You were born prematurely during the chaos."
His uncle's voice grew quieter, tinged with an uncharacteristic softness. "When the clan's reinforcements arrived, they found you cradled in your mother's arms. She… she didn't survive. Neither did your father. He'd died protecting you both, surrounded by the bodies of masked ninjas. The Fireball Jutsu was still burning when they found you. Perhaps… perhaps it left an impression."
Sogetsu sat silently, his mind processing the revelation. The quiet weight of loss pressed against his chest—not for the parents he never knew, but for the void they left behind. His Sharingan spun faintly as his thoughts raced.
"You're sure they were foreign ANBU?" he asked, his voice flat.
His uncle frowned. "That's what we were told. But…" He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Seems you know more than you should, I'm not going to ask how you know what it is you do but if you're suggesting what I think you are, tread carefully, Sogetsu. It's dangerous to make enemies of shadows."
Danzo, Sogetsu thought immediately, the name flashing through his mind like a curse. It made sense. The timing, the secrecy, the brutality. Danzo and his Root. Perhaps they'd already begun collecting Sharingan by then, or worse, experimenting with the Uchiha bloodline. The implications made his stomach churn.
Still, he didn't voice his suspicions. Not yet. Instead, he nodded faintly, keeping his face impassive. "I understand."
His uncle studied him for a moment longer, then rose. "Rest. You'll need your strength so you can get back to training." He paused for a moment and smiled briefly, "Congratulations on awakening your Sharingan by the way. Your parents would be very proud."
Sogetsu watched him leave, his mind still spinning with questions. The Fireball Jutsu, the circumstances of his birth, the subconscious impressions it left—it all pointed to something deeper. Something within the mind. He glanced at his hands, flexing them slowly.
Illusions… he thought. Perception. The mind is more fragile than I realized. If I can manipulate the subconscious… if I can recreate the illusions of Mitsukage using chakra…
His thoughts trailed off, replaced by a quiet resolve. The Sharingan's power wasn't just in seeing. It was in understanding. And the mind—its workings, its illusions, its limits—would become his new battlefield.
Sogetsu pushed himself off the bed, ignoring the protests of his aching body. He moved to the small desk in the corner of his room, where scraps of parchment and ink lay scattered. Grabbing a fresh sheet, he began sketching out a training plan, his mind already calculating the fastest and most efficient way to optimize his potential.
Step One: Taijutsu Foundation His memories of Hakuda resurfaced, the precision and flow of the techniques clear in his mind. It wasn't just about brute strength-it was about efficiency, striking only where it mattered. Yoruichi and Soi-Fon and shown that Hakuda itself at its peak was not inferior to the other Shinigami arts. He would integrate these principles into the Uchiha clan's taijutsu style, creating a hybrid that played to his strengths.
Time Required: One Week. Enough to at least reach a functional level.
Step Two: Chakra Flow and Control Sogetsu scribbled furiously. His spiritual energy had adapted to this world's chakra system, but it was still unstable. He needed to refine it, focus it, learn how to manipulate it with the same precision he'd once commanded in battle. Without control, his other goals would crumble.
Time required: Two Weeks. The foundation of everything else.
Step Three: Genjutsu and Illusion The Sharingan was a genjutsu weapon in itself and Sogetsu wasn't one to waste potential. He needed to explore its capabilities—not just simple illusions, but layered constructs that could manipulate perception entirely. His ultimate goal was still a long way off, but this would be the start.
Ongoing Development.
Step Four: Kenjustu Adaptation His hand paused for a moment before writing this down. His mastery of Zanjutsu was second nature to him, but this world's blade techniques were different. Still, a blade was a blade, and Mitsukage's essence would live on through him, even if only in spirit. He would take what he knew and mold it into something new.
Incorporate during the third week.
Sogetsu leaned back, scanning the plan critically. It wasn't perfect—there wasn't enough time—but it was functional. The key to surviving the battlefield wouldn't just be raw strength. It would be adaptability. Precision. Control. And that was something he could achieve. And as for the fear that his new techniques or behavior could cause scrutiny or worse, being sent to the Yamanaka for a trip through memory lane, He wasn't worried at all. His identity was just perfect. An Uchiha with an awakened Sharingan. Any and all inconsistency would be chalked up to him awakening the Sharingan and attributed to his genius. Konoha churned out geniuses by the bulk and that was what the Uchiha clan sorely needed.
He rose from his desk and walked to the small mirror in the corner. The reflection staring back at him seemed sharper now, his crimson Sharingan eyes burning faintly in the dim light. A reminder of his past. A tool for his future.
"This is only the beginning." he murmured, his voice low but resolute. "Mitsukage… I will rebuild what we lost."
With that, he turned, his mind already racing with the first steps of his plan.