Konoha Archive Room
[New Folder Created — Flying Thunder God]
Hiroki's consciousness pressed the final Enter key within his System space.
A brand-new, empty folder appeared—silent, pristine, and waiting to be filled with vast amounts of data and dense, intricate code.
What a shame.
If this technique had been copied directly from Minato Namikaze, he would already be at home carving spatial formulas into kunai instead of starting from theoretical foundations.
"Hey, new guy. Stop pretending to be busy and come help me with something."
A lazy voice, steeped in casual arrogance, cut through the quiet like a stone dropped into still water, instantly breaking Hiroki's train of thought.
He looked up, his attention returning from an imagined sea of code to the real world.
Not far away, leaning against a bookshelf with his hands in his pockets, stood a black-haired boy. His chin was slightly raised, his gaze openly scrutinizing.
On the back of his clothes was a striking red-and-white fan—the crest of the Uchiha Clan.
Oh.
An Uchiha.
Great. Is this really happening? Is he about to provoke me like every cliché Hokage fanfic villain?
"Where are the Fire Release ninjutsu records?" the boy asked impatiently.
Uchiha Yoshihiro—son of Uchiha Fugaku.
He had awakened his Sharingan at the age of nine and was treated like a precious treasure within the clan. Arrogance and laziness had come naturally ever since.
That morning, his elders had ordered him to look up old Fire Release materials as preparation for becoming a Chunin in the future.
A Genin who graduated at nine.
Rare. Exceptional. And deeply entitled.
He despised errands and flipping through dusty books. The moment he entered the archive room, he decided to dump the work on the first unlucky person he saw.
This new librarian seemed perfect.
Hiroki glanced at him briefly, then calmly pointed in a direction."Zone B. Third row. Seventh compartment. That's the Fire Release section."
With that, he lowered his head again, returning to his notes on space-time theory.
Giving directions was already more than enough. As a librarian, that was his job.
"Huh?"
Yoshihiro looked as though he'd just heard something absurd. He walked over and slapped the old wooden desk in front of Hiroki, making the books jump.
"I told you to get it for me. Are you stupid?" His tone sharpened. "I'm an Uchiha. What's wrong with asking you to fetch a book? That's your honor."
His voice wasn't loud, but the commanding undertone made the entire archive room feel tense.
Hiroki finally lifted his gaze from the book.
He studied the boy's face—the unmistakable expression of someone who believed the world owed him obedience.
…Does this kind of brain-dead behavior actually exist outside fiction?
Hiroki sighed lightly before answering.
"My job is to manage the archives, not to run errands. I've already told you where the information is."
He paused, then added calmly, "Also, we're about the same age—and you can't beat me."
That sentence, delivered without emotion, instantly ignited Yoshihiro's temper.
Indifference was the one thing he couldn't tolerate—especially from someone who looked like a nobody.
"You—!" His face flushed. "What kind of attitude is that?!"
As an Uchiha prodigy, he had never been dismissed so casually.
He nearly lashed out on the spot, but his eyes flicked to the "No Fighting" sign on the wall. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stop.
Breaking things here would only earn him a lecture from his father.
Outside, though?
That would be different.
He stepped back, a sneer curling his lips. "What, scared? You only dare hide behind rules, huh? If you've got guts, come outside. Training ground. I'll show you what a real genius looks like."
He was certain Hiroki would back down.
Instead, Hiroki closed his book and stood.
"Alright," he said evenly. "But there's no need to go outside."
Yoshihiro's smug expression hadn't fully formed before he saw Hiroki raise his hands into a hand seal.
His heart dropped.
"What are you doing—? This isn't—"
He never finished the sentence.
A violent buzzing exploded inside his head, as if an invisible hand had crushed his brain.
Images, sounds, and distorted sensations flooded his mind. His vision darkened instantly—everything the Sharingan perceived collapsed into blackness.
He tried to scream. Tried to move.
But his body felt as if it had been filled with molten lead. Not a single finger obeyed him.
[Ding-dong~]
[Detected connectable target: "Uchiha Yoshihiro."Temporary connection established via Chakra Communication Protocol.]
[Brain Overload — Activated]
"Uh—"
Yoshihiro's body swayed, the light in his eyes flickering like a candle in strong wind.
Then he fell backward with a dull thump, hitting the floor and losing consciousness completely.
Hiroki lowered his hand, expression unchanged.
He glanced once at the unconscious boy, shook his head faintly, and returned to his seat, reopening the space-time theory book—as casually as if he had brushed away an annoying fly.
But something was different this time.
Hiroki glanced back at Yoshihiro.
There had been no physical contact.
The boy hadn't even perceived him.
Just as he suspected.
Genjutsu, at its core, was nothing more than the forced establishment of a chakra connection.
And now—
Even without contact—
He could directly access memories and ninjutsu.
If opponents during the Chunin Exams were unprepared…
Copying all of their techniques in one sweep wouldn't be impossible.
About a minute later, Yoshihiro's fingers twitched. He slowly regained consciousness, groaning as he pushed himself upright, his head pounding.
"I… what happened?" he muttered, dazed.
Fragments returned.
He had been arguing with the librarian. He challenged him to fight. The other guy agreed.
Then—
Nothing.
He jerked his head up.
Not far away, Hiroki was still seated calmly, turning pages without even glancing in his direction.
A crushing sense of humiliation burned through Yoshihiro like molten iron.
What happened?
How did I lose?
I didn't even see him move.
My Sharingan—why couldn't it detect anything?
It felt as though he had eagerly prepared for a fight, only for the opponent to snap his fingers and erase him from the battlefield.
This wasn't defeat.
It was mockery.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms as his body trembled with rage and helplessness.
Damn it.
Damn it!
He wanted to rush forward, to fight again—but the lingering fear, the absolute sense of being overwhelmed, locked his legs in place.
In the end, he could only spit out two words through clenched teeth.
"…Damn it."
Then he turned and ran out of the archive room without looking back.
He was going to tell his father.
His father was Uchiha Fugaku—Konoha's elite jonin.
He would definitely teach that arrogant bastard a lesson.
—
Hiroki looked up as the boy disappeared.
A line of System text quietly surfaced in his vision:
Go home and find Dad.log —| My father is Uchiha Fugaku!| Konoha's elite jonin!| He'll definitely beat that guy up!
"…Uchiha Fugaku?"
Hiroki tilted his head slightly.
Wasn't that the jonin the Third Hokage had asked him to copy techniques from before the Hanzo mission?
That man had been drained dry in less than half an hour.
He still remembered Fugaku's stunned expression when he watched his own Great Fireball and Phoenix Flower techniques replicated flawlessly.
If Yoshihiro really dragged him over—
Wouldn't Fugaku just end up beating his own son instead?
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To read chapters in advance go to P@treon - harsh07