The hall remained silent after Hayato's question.
Itsuki did not rush to answer.
Instead, he lifted his gaze and let his chakra rise once more.
"Sharingan."
The word left him softly.
Scarlet returned.
Two tomoe rotated in perfect symmetry within each eye, steady and controlled. There was no strain in his breathing this time. No instability in the flow.
The elders leaned forward slightly.
Pride flickered openly across several faces.
Kazuma's lined features broke into a rare, unguarded smile.
"As expected," he murmured. "Two tomoe already."
Itsuki studied them in return.
So this is what they wanted to see.
Validation.
Proof that the Uchiha name still burned brightly.
"Is it truly so rare?" he asked evenly. "Awakening the Sharingan."
The question was innocent on the surface.
The silence that followed was not.
Most Uchiha awakened their dōjutsu around the cusp of adolescence. Twelve was common. Earlier was unusual. Much earlier was almost unheard of.
And two tomoe immediately after awakening—
That bordered on legend.
Before anyone could respond, a deeper tremor rippled through his chakra.
Itsuki felt it clearly.
Not external.
Internal.
His coils responded as if a threshold had been crossed. The pressure behind his eyes intensified, not painfully, but with undeniable force.
The tomoe began to spin faster.
The elders' expressions shifted from pride to alarm.
Kazuma's hand moved slightly, ready.
Then—
The rotation slowed.
A third tomoe emerged, sharp and complete.
Three.
The hall went still.
No one laughed.
No one shouted.
They simply stared.
Three tomoe Sharingan.
In a single day.
Fugaku's breath caught quietly. He had been praised as a prodigy in his own youth. Rapid advancement. Early graduation. Promotion through the ranks.
Yet this—
This was something else entirely.
Hayato's fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.
"Three tomoe…" he repeated under his breath.
Itsuki felt the difference immediately.
The world fractured into layers of intention. Subtle muscle tension. Micro-movements. The rhythm of heartbeats in the room.
His perception sharpened further.
At the same time, another shift occurred within his body.
His chakra volume surged, pushing past the fragile level of a new Academy student. The flow grew denser, more forceful.
Fugaku sensed it first.
"That chakra…" he said quietly. "It's rising."
Several jonin present stiffened.
They knew that sensation.
The weight of it.
"Chūnin level," one elder whispered.
Hayato stepped closer, unable to hide his astonishment.
"Itsuki. Your chakra… has it reached that threshold?"
Itsuki let the Sharingan fade at last.
The scarlet receded, leaving his eyes dark once more.
He flexed his fingers subtly, feeling the new density in his coils.
It was not refined.
Not trained.
But it was undeniably stronger.
"It seems so," he replied.
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Only statement.
The room erupted—not in chaos, but in overlapping voices.
"A blessing to the clan."
"The heavens favor us."
"With talent like this—"
Kazuma raised his hand.
Silence fell again.
He looked at Itsuki with something far heavier than pride.
"Power," he said slowly, "is a responsibility."
Itsuki met his grandfather's gaze without flinching.
"I understand."
And he did.
Three tomoe at five years old would not remain a secret. It would circulate through the village before nightfall. The Hokage would hear. The elders would hear. Those who feared the Uchiha would hear.
Talent was a spark.
But sparks could start fires.
The gifts resumed after that.
Scrolls were pressed into his hands. Sealed envelopes. Training manuals. Personal notes from veteran jonin.
The future of the clan, someone said.
Itsuki felt the weight of that phrase settle far heavier than any scroll.
He was five years old.
And already, they were placing the future of the Uchiha on his shoulders.
He accepted each offering politely.
Inside, his thoughts were quiet.
Strength alone will not save us.
But without it, there is no chance at all.