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Madara sat tall and rigid, eyes sharp. "Father, our genjutsu experts have infiltrated the outer ranks of the Senju compound. A few low-ranking guards have been compromised. We know their patrol routes and that they're weakening supply lines again."
Izuna added, "If we subtly rotate genjutsu through different guards, we can keep them blind without arousing suspicion."
Tajima nodded, pleased. But then Arai, the youngest among them—quiet, analytical, and precise—spoke.
"There's still a flaw," Arai said. "Our reconnaissance failed not just because of Senju interference. We had no sensory ninjas capable of detecting distant movement or chakra signatures. If we had scouts with advanced smell or raw combat instinct, we could've anticipated the ambush."
Tajima leaned in. "Go on."
"Inuzuka," Arai said. "Their clan's bond with beasts allows acute sensory perception. And the Kaguya… though unruly, they fight with relentless ferocity. If we integrated both into our scouting parties and assault divisions, we'd compensate for our current weakness."
Madara looked intrigued. "That would create a layered offensive. Precision from us. Detection from Inuzuka. And brute force from Kaguya."
Tajima's lips curled into a calculating smile. "And they're both nearby clans. Mid-Level clans. Desperate for relevance. Perfect. We don't need allies—we need subordinates. Send word."
P.S : Arai and Hiroshi are now 4 years old. They were the masterminds who subtly shifted the power dynamics of the world. Since, they don't know much about the warring era as it was not shown clearly in the show.
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The morning sun broke through the misty forest canopy, casting shafts of golden light onto the training glade deep within the Uchiha compound. The scent of scorched earth and sweat lingered in the air—remnants of yesterday's fire release drills.
Arai Uchiha stood in the center, his breathing controlled, posture rigid, and eyes focused. At just four years of age, the boy was far more disciplined than many twice his age. But it was no surprise to those who watched him. There was something unspoken about him—an intensity masked behind calm calculation.
Across from him, Izuna Uchiha stood with arms folded. The older brother wore a half-smirk, his three-tomoe Sharingan lazily spinning in his crimson eyes.
"Again," Izuna said.
Arai nodded, hands moving into a practiced sequence of seals. "Fire Style: Ember Flicker!"
A small burst of flame erupted from his mouth—but instead of roaring forth, it sputtered and faded before it reached Izuna.
Arai clenched his fists. "The fire doesn't carry distance."
Izuna sighed but offered a crooked smile. "You're focusing too much on chakra quantity. Fire release needs willpower. Aggression. Pour your emotion into it. Don't tame it. Command it."
"I don't want to lose control," Arai replied quietly.
From a nearby boulder, Madara watched silently, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. "He's not wrong," he finally spoke, his voice low. "But power without command is wasteful. And command without passion… will always fall short."
Arai turned toward him, feeling the gravity in his brother's gaze. "I'll try again."
He moved through the hand signs once more, drawing in a deep breath, focusing his chakra core—still raw but dense with unnatural vitality. The signs flowed smoother this time. He exhaled sharply—
A jet of flame shot forward, larger than before but still unstable. It veered slightly to the side and dispersed against a tree trunk, leaving it smoldering.
Izuna whistled. "Now we're getting somewhere."
But Arai dropped to one knee, panting. Sweat poured from his brow. His chakra coils throbbed from overuse.
Madara stood and approached. "That's enough for today."
"I can keep going."
"You can't," Madara said, placing a firm hand on Arai's shoulder. "You've improved. But growth demands patience. Push too hard and you'll burn out your pathways before you've even awakened the second tomoe."
Arai looked away, shame flickering across his face.
Izuna ruffled his younger brother's hair. "Don't sulk. At your age, I was still learning to throw shuriken straight."
"Liar," Madara muttered.
They chuckled.
That evening, back at the family estate, Arai sat silently on the engawa, gazing at the stars as a breeze stirred the cherry blossoms. His mind churned with frustration. He could feel the power in him—a burning coil just beneath the surface. But drawing it out felt like grasping smoke.
"Still awake, Arai?"
His mother's gentle voice broke his thoughts. Miyako Uchiha approached, carrying a small tray of warm rice balls.
He nodded. "I didn't improve enough."
She knelt beside him and placed the tray down. "You didn't master everything in one day. You don't need to."
"But Madara-nii and Izuna-nii —"
"They're older. And you're… different." Her voice softened. "You carry a light within you, Arai. But even fire must be kindled slowly, or it burns too fast and too short."
The next morning, Tajima summoned him to the war room. Arai stood before his father, who stared at the clan maps sprawled across the wooden table.
"You've been training hard," Tajima said without looking up.
"I want to be strong."
Tajima finally raised his gaze. "Why?"
Arai hesitated. "Because I've seen what happens when we're weak. We lose. People die."
His father studied him a long moment. "Fear is a strong motivator. But you'll need more than fear. You'll need vision. Soon, you'll start missions with your brothers. Not just training. But reconnaissance. Observation. Small skirmishes."
Arai's pulse quickened. "Yes, Father."
"One more thing." Tajima gestured. "Place your hand here."
Arai approached, and Tajima placed a chakra-sensitive paper sheet in his palm.
The paper rippled. First it singed and curled—Fire. Then cracked and splintered—Earth. And finally, sparked faintly—Lightning.
Tajima nodded. "Three elemental affinities. And that unnatural chakra density…"
Arai tilted his head. "What does it mean?"
"You're not just Uchiha. You're something else as well. Perhaps a gift from our ancestors. Use it wisely."
Training Arc – Earth Release
Earth was grounding, stable—but stubborn.
Izuna grinned. "If fire is passion, earth is discipline. Let's see how disciplined you really are."
They practiced outside the stone quarry. Arai focused his chakra into the ground, attempting to raise a wall of earth. At first, the soil barely twitched.
"More control," Izuna instructed. "Feel the earth. Coax it. Don't force it."
After dozens of failures and an hour later, finally—
The ground cracked. A half-formed pillar emerged.
It collapsed a second later.
Izuna clapped. "Progress."
Training Arc – Lightning Release
This was the most volatile.
Madara took over here. "Lightning is speed. Precision. You have the chakra, but you're too hesitant. You must strike like thunder."
They trained with conductive targets. Arai focused and released a burst—only for it to short-circuit and spark wildly.
"You're leaking chakra," Madara noted.
Hours passed before Arai managed a clean, narrow bolt that struck a dummy square in the chest.
Madara gave a rare nod. "Better."
Training Arc – Sharingan Growth
One night, after an intense spar with Izuna, Arai collapsed, breathless, his mind fogged.
And then, it happened.
Pain. A flash. And when he opened his eyes—
One tomoe spun clearly in each eye.
Madara approached, kneeling. "You've awakened them fully."
Izuna grinned. "Welcome to the club."
The clarity it brought was brief, but intense. Movements slowed, details sharpened.
But maintaining it drained him fast. He could barely keep the eyes active for a minute.
Madara cautioned, "Train slowly. Don't rely on it. Learn to fight without it. Then master it."
Weeks passed. Slowly, Arai improved. His fire grew sharper, his lightning more precise. Earth walls rose more consistently.
He began learning Uchiha clan tactics, illusions, stealth, and resistance training. His Sharingan gained slight duration.
One evening, Miyako found him asleep in the garden, scrolls scattered around him—battle tactics, chakra theory, sealing basics.
She smiled sadly, brushing his hair.
"He's going to burn himself out," Madara said behind her.
"He's driven. Like you."
"No," Madara said. "He's calmer. More… balanced. But something about him—it's as if he remembers more than he should."
Miyako didn't reply.
They both looked at Arai.
Just four years old—and yet a quiet force of potential, waiting to ignite.
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