---
Mikoto sighed, her hands clasped together. "When will things change?"
"With the Third Hokage still in power, it's unlikely," Fugaku said, his voice hard. "But with Minato as the Fourth Hokage, there's hope for the future. Maybe under his leadership, things can improve—for our children, at least."
A faint smile crossed Mikoto's lips, clinging to that hope. "You and Minato can make it happen, right?"
Fugaku's serious expression softened slightly as he stroked her long hair. "We'll do our best," he whispered. "For Sasuke, for Itachi... and for the clan."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.
---
The next morning, long before the sun rose, Itachi was already awake. Moving quietly so as not to wake his family, he stepped into Sasuke's room. His younger brother lay peacefully asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling steadily.
"I'll be back soon," Itachi whispered to himself, watching Sasuke for a moment longer before heading to his own room.
He began strapping small sandbags to his wrists and ankles, followed by a weighted vest. The additional weight strained his young body, but Itachi pressed on. Despite being only five years old, the memories and experiences from his previous life gave him the determination of a seasoned warrior.
I don't have time to waste, Itachi thought as he carefully stepped out of the house. If I'm going to meet Father's expectations, I need to train harder than ever.
His destination was the Uchiha clan's training grounds, located near Shisui's home on the outskirts of the compound. Shisui, one of the few people Itachi trusted, was like an older brother to him. Itachi wasn't sure when Shisui would return from his latest mission, but he hoped to see him soon.
Jogging through the empty streets, the extra weight slowed his progress. His breathing grew heavier, but he didn't stop.
---
Back at the house, Fugaku stood in Itachi's room, reading the note his son had left behind. "This boy..." he muttered with a slight smirk.
Mikoto appeared behind him, her expression worried. "He's really planning to train outside for half a month?"
Fugaku folded the note and nodded. "Yes. Itachi has made up his mind, and I'm curious to see what he's capable of."
---
Itachi finally reached the training grounds after a grueling two-hour journey that should have taken him minutes. His clothes were soaked with sweat, but he didn't rest. Instead, he began his morning routine—basic exercises designed to build strength and endurance.
His movements were slow and deliberate, each set pushing his body closer to its limits. It wasn't enough to rely on his Sharingan or ninjutsu. His body needed to be ready for combat.
"Mom… Dad… Sasuke..." Itachi whispered as he dropped to the ground, utterly exhausted. I'm sorry to make you worry again, but this is something I must do.
Despite his fatigue, Itachi didn't remove the weights. He needed to push his limits if he wanted to grow stronger quickly. As the youngest ANBU captain in his past life, he knew how important physical conditioning was. No matter how much ninjutsu or genjutsu he mastered, a weak body would be useless in a real fight.
After recovering enough to move, Itachi stood and resumed his training. He wasn't just preparing to beat the clan's genin—he was preparing to change the future.
---
Later that day, Fugaku sat on the porch, lost in thought.
"Do you really think Itachi can succeed?" Mikoto asked, joining him.
Fugaku was silent for a moment before answering, "I don't know. But if anyone can do the impossible, it's our son."
---
After resting, Itachi removed the weights from his body. He stretched briefly to loosen his muscles, keeping his movements light to avoid tiring himself out further.
Half an hour later, with some strength returning, Itachi sat beneath a large tree and retrieved a soldier pill from his pouch. He swallowed it, knowing he'd need to wait for Shisui over the next half-month, and carrying enough rations wasn't practical.
Soldier pills had been essential during the Ninja World Wars, a vital tool for shinobi to replenish their stamina. Itachi had relied on them often after Akatsuki missions. His mind drifted back to those days.
"At this point, Akatsuki shouldn't have formed yet..." Itachi thought.
Within Akatsuki, aside from Pain and Madara, who wielded immense power, every member was an S-class rogue ninja, a criminal listed in the bingo books of various nations. Each one posed a significant threat. For instance, Deidara and Sasori had infiltrated the Sand Village and captured Gaara, the One-Tailed Jinchuriki.
Though Sasori had handled the front lines, Deidara had taken Gaara alone. While this didn't mean Deidara could have beaten the entire Sand Village, the circumstances of the battlefield had prevented Gaara from focusing on him.
Ninja battles rarely occur in a vacuum. During the Nine-Tails' attack, even a weakened Madara had nearly destroyed Konoha, despite the Fourth Hokage's sacrifice to stop him.
"Preventing Madara from recruiting Akatsuki's members will be key to Konoha's future," Itachi resolved, his brow furrowing under the weight of his mission.
With his strength mostly recovered, Itachi stood and approached a nearby tree. He pulled out four shuriken—two in each hand. His wrists rotated slightly as he prepared to test his throwing technique. Despite his young body, his mind remained sharp, though he feared his reactions and physical abilities might not have kept up.
With a swift motion, he flung the shuriken. His body moved instinctively, but something was off.
His right-hand shuriken flew straight and embedded itself into the tree, but the left-hand ones spun out of control. One landed in the dirt after veering off, and the other fell short, its momentum lost.
Itachi narrowed his eyes, already anticipating this outcome. Though his skills remained intact, his five-year-old body lacked the strength and reflexes he once had.
"Even though my mind remembers, this body still has catching up to do," Itachi thought as he retrieved the shuriken.
While few genin could rival his technique at this age, Itachi knew he was far from his peak. His father, Fugaku, had once praised his shuriken skills, but Itachi had long since surpassed him. Still, pushing himself too hard now would risk injury.
"I need to rebuild my body for these techniques."
Itachi began again, throwing the shuriken in quick succession. He trained for hours, undisturbed.
By noon, the sun blazed overhead, marking the hottest part of the day. With a flick of his wrists, four shuriken sailed through the air—two hit their mark dead center, while the other two crossed paths as intended.
"Clang!"
The shuriken collided mid-air, a feat Itachi had expected, though one quickly lost momentum and fell to the ground.
Shaking his head, Itachi sighed softly.
"I've regained some control, but my strength and reflexes still need work. It'll take more time to return to full form."
His arms sore, Itachi retrieved the shuriken and gazed up at a nearby tree. Deciding to change up his training, he sprinted toward the tree, placing a foot on the bark and running up its trunk. This basic chakra control training had been ingrained in him long ago, but it still served to build his physical prowess.
Balancing on a narrow branch, Itachi planted both feet lightly. Despite its thinness, the branch held steady under his weight, swaying only slightly. His chakra control was precise, and his movements flawless.
Content, Itachi leaped from tree to tree, each jump more fluid than the last. He paused briefly, letting out a quiet chuckle as he admired his progress. He wasn't finished yet. There was still much to do.
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