"The spiritual change is... my left eye."
Kiyoshi could feel a power brewing inside it, only a tiny bit more was needed for the dōjutsu to sprout.
He did not put on his shirt. Instead, he began refining chakra internally, gathering it and directing it along the circulatory path for [Lightning Release: Iron Armor].
Currents, invisible to the naked eye, spread throughout Kiyoshi's body.
"Phew..." Kiyoshi exhaled.
This Ninjutsu was only Rank D, and its effect on his current body was already minimal. In a while, it would likely be ineffective.
He needed to acquire more and better Ninjutsu.
"Kiyoshi."
Suddenly, a familiar voice came from outside the door.
Kiyoshi called out, "Coming."
He then crossed the dilapidated yard and opened the door.
"Mikoto-san, why are you here?" Kiyoshi asked.
His black hair was draped down his back, clearly contrasted with his visibly muscular physique.
"Kiyoshi, this is this month's stipend."
Mikoto had a cloth bag hanging over her shoulder. She pulled out a stack of paper currency stamped with the Hidden Leaf symbol.
"Kiyoshi, you..."
Just as Mikoto was about to hand the money to Kiyoshi, she was startled to realize that Kiyoshi was standing shirtless.
This was the first time Mikoto had seen such solid and aesthetically pleasing muscles, causing her to look twice involuntarily.
Fugaku had been injured on the battlefield, and Mikoto had seen him with his shirt off.
He was not as evenly proportioned and good-looking as Kiyoshi.
Could this be the talent of the Yotsuki clan?
The shape of one's muscles is largely innate. Just as some people, no matter how much they train, can never get their abdominal muscle lines to align perfectly.
Some people even have eight-pack abs, while others can only ever achieve six.
Mikoto finally understood why Tsunade had said Kiyoshi was suited to be a Taijutsu ninja.
"I apologize, Mikoto-san. I was exercising just now and left in too much of a hurry, forgetting to put on a shirt."
Mikoto was still taller than the current Kiyoshi. Kiyoshi looked up, his tone apologetic.
"Ah, it's fine. You're just a child," Mikoto quickly shook her head.
Why was she being so particular with a child?
She handed the money to Kiyoshi, telling him to be frugal and not waste it.
"Understood, Mikoto-san." Kiyoshi nodded.
This money was essentially his living allowance.
Kiyoshi's daily expenses came from this, which included a portion subsidized by the Hidden Leaf and a portion from the Uchiha clan itself.
It was enough for a normal person's life, but still a bit tight for a ninja.
"I have an appointment with Fugaku. I'll see you next time." Mikoto waved goodbye.
Kiyoshi responded politely and waited until Mikoto was out of sight before closing the door.
"It's about the same as before. I still need to earn money quickly."
Kiyoshi counted how many ryō were in the stack of paper currency and carefully put it away.
He could continue to pressure Kurenai Yūhi, but that wasn't a sustainable long-term solution.
Buying a regular tachi was the limit of his budget.
After sparring with Kakashi once, his blade was already rolled and needed maintenance.
When he was on missions on the battlefield, there would be no intermission for Kiyoshi to send his sword for maintenance.
"I still need a chakra blade forged from special metal," Kiyoshi thought.
A chakra blade can absorb the user's chakra nature, and the resistance to chakra transmission is extremely low. Possessing such a weapon would yield twice the result with half the effort.
Kiyoshi then took out [Lightning Release: Lightning Finger], which he hadn't practiced since his initiation, to deepen his understanding of Lightning Release Ninjutsu.
***
"Mikoto, you're here."
Fugaku was drenched in sweat, taking off his green ninja flak jacket.
He had just been training.
The most important thing for a ninja is to continuously hone oneself, or else one regresses.
"Did you give Kiyoshi the stipend?" Fugaku asked casually.
"I did," Mikoto nodded. She suddenly noticed a hole in Fugaku's fishnet-like chain mail armor on his upper body.
Ninjas generally wore protective gear resembling a fishnet, known as chain mail or scale mail.
"You have a hole in your clothes," Mikoto said, pointing to the spot.
Fugaku followed Mikoto's gaze. There was a two-centimeter hole, revealing the skin underneath.
"It must have been burned by the Fire Release training just now," Fugaku said, boldly taking off his shirt, exposing his solid upper body.
"What's wrong, Mikoto?" Fugaku saw Mikoto staring at his body and thought she was being shy.
"No, nothing." Mikoto shook her delicate, pretty face.
After confirming again, Fugaku's physique was indeed less aesthetic than Kiyoshi's.
'I really don't know how a kid trains like that' Mikoto thought.
Although Fugaku looked taller and bulkier than Kiyoshi, his overall proportions were mediocre.
"Is that so?" Fugaku smiled, took a new set of chain mail from inside the house, and put it on.
He was somewhat confident in his physique. After all, he had been fighting and training on the battlefield for so many years, enduring countless hardships.
"The assembly is about to start. Let's go," Fugaku said.
"Mm." Mikoto nodded.
The periodic assembly was a mandatory gathering for all Uchiha who became "ninjas."
The Naka Shrine above ground was where daily matters were discussed, and even Uchiha clan members who weren't ninjas could attend.
However, the secret room below was where the Uchiha held their internal meetings. To ensure secrecy, ordinary Uchiha did not have the right to enter or know about it.
***
Hatake residence.
The evening sun was hanging low in the sky. Kakashi, as usual, rushed home after training.
But when he pushed open the front door, the air was filled with an indescribable sense of oppression, along with a smell of blood and foul odor.
He frowned, took off his shoes, and said, "Father, I'm home."
However, there was no reply from inside the house.
Kakashi's heart sank slightly, and he walked toward his father's room.
Since being criticized by the comrades he saved on the street, his father had not left the house.
As he crossed the living room, he saw several yellowed letters scattered on the coffee table, which his father used for guests. They were densely covered with writing, the ink not yet completely dry.
Kakashi glanced at them, noticing words like "regret" and "dereliction of duty," with a strong sense of despair emanating from the lines.
"Father?"
Kakashi's heart pounded with unease. He practically ran to push open the room door.
The sight inside the room struck Kakashi like thunder.
Sakumo Hatake was lying on the tatami mat, a sharp short blade plunged into his chest. Bloodstains had already soaked his clothes and even permeated the texture of the tatami.
The crimson liquid had congealed into dark stains, emitting a suffocating scent of rust.
Kakashi stood frozen, his eyes wide, as if his brain was momentarily unable to process the scene before him.
"Why..." He finally squeezed out a hoarse sound, stumbling toward Sakumo's body and kneeling on the floor.
Kakashi's hand trembled as he lightly touched his father's cold hand, only to feel the already rigid skin.
The grief of losing his father, the anger at the rules, and the self-blame for his powerlessness all rushed into his mind, threatening to overwhelm him.
***
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