The world of shinobi is a brutal meritocracy. Talent sets the ceiling, while effort merely determines how quickly one reaches it—and no further.
"How I envy those brats born with bloodline limits," Kakuzu mused, his gaze fixed on the path Uchiha Akira had taken moments ago. He chuckled softly, though there was a bitter edge to his voice.
Kakuzu's own talents weren't lacking. By the age of 26, he had reached the level of an elite jōnin, surpassing 95% of shinobi in the world. Yet, it was always that remaining 5%—the ones with monstrous potential—that posed the greatest challenge. Their ceilings were so absurdly high they might as well have been cheating.
"If I could possess their bloodlines... maybe, decades from now, I wouldn't have to scrape by like this," Kakuzu muttered, a tinge of bitterness creeping into his smirk. The thought of the inevitable "plot armor" awaiting him in the future filled him with a sense of helplessness.
But as he chuckled, a flash of inspiration streaked through his mind like lightning. His smile froze, his gaze turning sharply toward the path Akira had taken.
"What if... I could have the Uchiha bloodline too?"
The thought planted itself in his mind like a seed, growing rapidly into an unshakable tree. The Uchiha clan, renowned for their Sharingan, wielded unparalleled ocular power. But why had no opposing clan successfully claimed it for themselves?
The answer was obvious. The Uchiha protected their Sharingan fiercely. When an Uchiha fell, their eyes were immediately retrieved and secured within the clan. Even if someone managed to steal a Sharingan before it could be recovered, implanting it was no simple feat. Without the Uchiha bloodline, wielding the Sharingan became a curse, draining chakra endlessly until the user was utterly depleted.
For the Uchiha, their bloodline wasn't just a source of pride—it was a warning. Those without the blood to support the Sharingan had no right to claim it.
But for someone like Kakuzu, armed with the forbidden Earth Grudge Fear technique, was this really an insurmountable challenge?
The thought made his heart—or rather, his five hearts—pound violently. Earth Grudge Fear allowed him to steal not just hearts but the very essence of his enemies—their chakra, their abilities, their potential.
If he could claim the heart of an Uchiha, would that not mean gaining their bloodline? Would that not grant him the ability to awaken the Sharingan himself?
Kakuzu's breath quickened, his pupils dilating as the madness of his plan consumed him. His hands trembled, fingers twitching with anticipation as his feet turned, following the path Akira had taken.
This wasn't just idle speculation anymore. This was personal.
His prey wasn't the nameless Uchiha brats trailing behind Akira. They were irrelevant. Kakuzu's true target was Akira himself—a prodigy who had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan. With a heart as powerful as his, Kakuzu could very well ascend to the realm of the gods.
Beneath the folds of his robe, tendrils of Earth Grudge Fear writhed eagerly, burrowing into the ground and snaking toward Akira's position. Just a single strike was all it would take to claim his prize.
"I'm sorry, but..." Kakuzu whispered, preparing to unleash his attack.
A cold wind swept through the Uchiha compound, biting through his moment of focus. Kakuzu froze, his steps halting as clarity pierced the haze of ambition clouding his mind.
This is still Konoha territory, he reminded himself, his eyes narrowing. And I'm in the heart of the Uchiha district. Am I underestimating my opponents?
The chill in the air carried with it an unshakable logic, quelling the fire of his earlier madness. Kakuzu took a deep breath, grounding himself.
This isn't the time or place to act rashly.
For all the allure of the Sharingan, power demanded patience. He couldn't afford to make reckless moves in the shadow of Konoha's might.
By the time Kakuzu had calmed himself, Akira and his entourage had disappeared into the distance. He sighed, his tendrils retreating into his sleeve as he turned to leave.
"Guess I'll let this one go," Kakuzu muttered, shaking his head.
But before he could take another step, the sky darkened ominously. A massive shadow fell over him, as if blotting out the sun itself.
A voice—cold, commanding, and thunderous—reverberated through the air.
"You."
Kakuzu stiffened.
"What are you doing here?"
He turned slowly to face the source of the voice.
Standing before him was a man clad in a simple purple robe. His wild, spiked hair framed a face partially obscured by shadow, save for a single eye—piercing, unrelenting, and filled with quiet menace.
It was him.
Uchiha Madara.
Kakuzu's breath caught in his throat. Of all the scenarios he had imagined, this was not how he had expected to meet the legendary Uchiha.
Madara stepped forward, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
"Lost, are you?" Kakuzu replied calmly, his voice steady despite the palpable tension. "I seem to have lost my way in your esteemed clan's territory."
Madara's visible eye narrowed, his presence bearing down like a storm. "Is that so?"
A gust of wind swept through the compound, rustling the leaves and Kakuzu's resolve. He clenched his fists, his body instinctively shifting into a defensive stance.
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