Uchiha Gen subtly sized up Uchiha Itachi before him, then laughed lightly.
"Don't worry about it—it's my fault. I came here and disturbed your training."
The Uchiha Itachi standing before him was still just a child—a small boy with clear, innocent eyes and a polite, restrained expression on his youthful face.
At this moment, he had yet to be caught between the Village and the Clan, yet to be crushed beneath the unbearable weight of choice and responsibility.
It was difficult for Uchiha Gen to reconcile this well-mannered, gentle child with the lonely figure he remembered—one shrouded in silence, sorrow, and suppressed despair.
Whose fault was that, really?
"Hello. I'm Uchiha Gen."
"My name is Uchiha Itachi," the boy replied politely. "I know you—you're Izumi's older brother."
"Itachi, I know you too," Gen said with a faint smile. "Izumi often talks about you. You're the Clan Head's son. Why are you practicing shuriken alone out here?"
Itachi stepped forward, pulling a shuriken from the tree trunk. His voice remained soft and composed.
"It's quiet here. I like being alone."
Uchiha Gen walked a few steps into the clearing, glancing at the targets nailed to the surrounding trees.
"Itachi, I watched your practice just now," he said slowly.
"I never expected your shurikenjutsu to be so precise. It's the first time I've seen someone throw shuriken with such accuracy—and creativity."
He paused, then added honestly, "You're only six years old. One day, you'll undoubtedly become another genius of the Uchiha Clan."
At the praise, a faint hint of shyness appeared on Itachi's face.
"You flatter me," he said quietly. "I'm still not good enough. My shuriken technique is far from perfect."
With that, Itachi turned his attention back to the targets and resumed training.
Uchiha Gen stood at the edge of the clearing, silently observing as Itachi attempted to throw five shuriken at once.
The first two attempts failed—two shuriken missed their marks.
On the third attempt, three went astray.
After several more tries, all five missed entirely.
Yet Uchiha Gen's eyes gleamed. He nodded faintly, admiration clear in his expression.
As expected of Uchiha Itachi… a true prodigy.
Though the shuriken failed repeatedly, Gen could see the subtle adjustments Itachi was making—changes in angle, force, and wrist movement with every throw.
Then, Itachi raised his hand again.
This time, he merely flicked his wrist.
Five sharp clang sounds rang out almost simultaneously.
Every single shuriken struck the bullseye of a different target.
A bright, innocent smile bloomed on Itachi's face as he looked at the results.
Then his gaze shifted—just in time to see Uchiha Gen turning away.
Watching Gen's retreating figure, Itachi frowned slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes.
He could sense it keenly.
Uchiha Gen was deliberately distancing himself.
---
Walking slowly along the forest path, Uchiha Gen's expression was deep and contemplative.
His emotions were complicated.
This unexpected meeting had allowed him to witness, firsthand, the terrifying emergence of Itachi's talent.
To master such an intricate shuriken technique would normally take hundreds—if not thousands—of repetitions.
Yet Itachi achieved it in barely a dozen attempts.
More than that, during the final throw, Gen had clearly sensed chakra fluctuations.
Each shuriken had been imbued with chakra—perfectly balanced and identical.
That level of control was nothing short of meticulous.
For a moment, the thought of recruiting Uchiha Itachi crossed Gen's mind more than once.
But reason quickly suppressed it.
Itachi's identity and talent would inevitably draw the attention of both the Clan and the Village. Any association with him would place Gen directly under their scrutiny—something he had been deliberately avoiding.
More importantly, Gen had his reservations about Itachi himself.
He was a genius—precocious, thoughtful, and fiercely independent. Yet in the end, he would choose to sacrifice his own clan for what he believed to be the "greater good."
Uchiha Gen could not help but wonder—
If I tried to win him over… would I eventually be betrayed as well?
---
When Gen returned home, his mother, Uchiha Rei, was preparing dinner. His younger sister Izumi was sprawled across the table, drawing with oil brushes on a sheet of white paper.
"Izumi, what are you drawing?" Gen asked gently.
He walked over and ruffled her hair, smiling fondly.
"Big Brother," Izumi said brightly, "I'm drawing our family! This is Mama, this is you, and this is me!"
"Our Izumi is amazing," Gen praised warmly. "You draw very well."
As he looked through the other drawings, his gaze suddenly paused. He gently pulled one sheet free.
Izumi stiffened, panic flashing across her face.
Uchiha Gen studied the drawing calmly.
It depicted Uchiha Itachi holding a crying Sasuke in his arms, his expression soft and gentle.
"This one is very good," Gen said simply.
Izumi blinked in surprise.
"Big Brother… you're not angry?"
"Why would I be?"
Izumi bit her lip hesitantly.
"Because… Big Brother, you don't like Itachi-kun."
Though they had long since reconciled, Izumi had always remembered that her brother seemed to dislike Itachi—though she never understood why someone so gentle could be disliked.
Uchiha Gen smiled faintly and ruffled her hair again.
"As long as Izumi is happy, that's all that matters," he said softly.
"Besides, Big Brother doesn't dislike Itachi."
He simply couldn't agree with him.
That thought remained unspoken.
---
After that day, Uchiha Gen never encountered Itachi again.
Instead, every few days after the Academy, he went to the Hatake Clan grounds to guide Hatake Seiko's training.
Two months passed in the blink of an eye.
---
In the training grounds, sharp bang—bang—bang sounds echoed continuously.
Two figures clashed and separated again and again, their movements swift and fluid.
Uchiha Gen maintained a calm, defensive posture, his palms weaving an invisible net that effortlessly neutralized all of Hatake Seiko's attacks.
Suddenly, Gen spoke.
"Seiko, pay attention. I'm attacking."
Seiko's expression changed instantly as he raised his guard.
In the same instant, Uchiha Gen struck—his palm cutting forward like a blade.
Seiko saw only a blur.
The next moment, his body was sent flying.
He rolled across the ground before stopping. When he stood, he realized his clothes had been torn from his left shoulder down to his right abdomen, a clear mark left by the force of the strike.
"Gen-kun," Seiko said with a wry smile, "your attacks are getting harder and harder to defend against. That last strike—I couldn't even see it."
Uchiha Gen nodded.
"Thanks to the Hatake Sword Technique you taught me, I've gained a lot of insight," he said calmly.
"It helped me eliminate unnecessary movements, making my attacks more concise—and sharper."
Seiko laughed softly.
"No wonder the Clan holds that technique in such high regard," he said.
"I can already imagine how many shinobi would tremble in fear at the mere mention of it… when wielded by the White Fang."
---
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