UCHIHA: THE ATTACK ON KONOHA

Every morning, Uchiha Yang's grandfather, Uchiha Kagami, would demand his father spar with him. The old man would stand to the side, barking criticisms, his sharp words cutting deeper than any kunai. To outsiders, it might have seemed like senseless yelling, but the clan knew better—he was shaping his son-in-law into a warrior worthy of the Uchiha name.

In the afternoons, training shifted to traditional samurai-style kenjutsu. At night, the regimen continued—blindfolded exercises with a wooden sword, drilling the fundamentals of swordsmanship under the moonlit sky. This relentless cycle became routine. Occasionally, Kagami would instruct Tsubaki, an experienced swordswoman, to arrange duels with young samurai, giving Uchiha Yang the chance to sharpen his skills against real opponents. Before long, whispers of the "Little Swordsman of the Uchiha" spread throughout the region.

Yang's strength improved by leaps and bounds, but ninjutsu and genjutsu remained his weak points. His frustration grew. In the world of shinobi, standing still meant being left behind. Determined to find answers, he sought out the one person in the household who would listen—his mother.

In the kitchen, the scent of miso and grilled fish filled the air. His mother, Uchi Polan, stirred the pot with practiced ease. Yang approached, offering to help.

"Mom, let me take over. You've worked hard all day. You're losing weight..."

Polan glanced at him, seeing straight through his words. She smirked. "You're frustrated with your grandfather's training, aren't you? You think he's turning you into a samurai instead of a shinobi? You want to focus on ninjutsu and genjutsu, right?"

Yang's eyes widened. "You know me too well."

His mother chuckled and continued, "Do you think the foundation of a ninja is ninjutsu? Overusing it too early damages the body. Chakra isn't infinite—it's refined from your own stamina, replenished through food and rest. Your grandfather isn't holding you back; he's preparing you. He's repairing the hidden damage in your body and forging you into a true warrior."

She turned to him fully. "And who told you that you're not training in ninjutsu and genjutsu? Haven't you noticed how much better your chakra control has become? You can now regulate six chakra streams instead of four. That level of control will benefit you more than you realize."

Yang frowned in thought. His mother continued, "If you want to progress faster, learn medical ninjutsu. It will refine your chakra control and heighten your perception—both crucial for mastering elemental transformations and genjutsu."

She smirked. "Besides, you're Uchiha. Our clan is naturally resistant to illusions. And when we cast genjutsu, the level of detail makes them nearly impossible to break. Ninjutsu? That's the easiest part. It follows set rules. Anyone can learn it from a scroll, but true mastery comes from understanding yourself. That's what your grandfather is teaching you."

Her gaze turned somber. "Your uncle trained the same way. But unlike you, he never understood the lesson in time."

Yang hesitated. "Uncle? I didn't even know I had an uncle…"

Polan's expression darkened. "He was… a kind man. Idealistic, always clashing with your grandfather. He wanted peace between the Uchiha and Konoha. But he was naïve… and blind. And because of that, he died."

Yang's breath hitched. "What was his name?"

"Uchiha Kagami."

Yang's eyes widened. That name… one of the Uchiha who had stood alongside the Second Hokage.

"To the family, he was a traitor," Polan continued. "Your grandfather was forced to step down as chief elder. The village used Kagami, then discarded him. Your grandfather chose exile rather than stay in a place that betrayed his blood."

She placed a gentle hand on Yang's head. "Train hard. Don't be like your uncle… or your father. Both were fools—good-hearted, but fools nonetheless."

Two Years Later

A young man practiced swordsmanship in a bamboo forest. His movements were fluid, precise. Nearby, an old man reclined in a rocking chair, watching with a sharp eye.

"That's enough," Kagami finally said. "From now on, four hours of sword training each day. The rest of the time, do whatever you want."

Yang wiped his brow. "Grandpa, are you going fishing again today?"

Kagami chuckled. "What else would I do? I don't have many days left, might as well enjoy them. Fishing calms the mind."

His health had declined over the past two years. Yang often caught his mother crying in secret. The old man's time was running out. Yang swore to give him a parting gift—a display of his true potential.

Three days later, he completed his first original jutsu. He sprinted down the mountain, bursting into their home. "Grandpa! Mom! Uncle! Come outside!"

They gathered in the courtyard. Yang raised his hand, forming a spinning sphere of chakra. "This is my new technique—Rasengan!"

With a powerful thrust, he slammed it into the ground. Dust and debris shot into the air.

His grandfather, who could barely keep his eyes open these days, suddenly looked awake. His lips curled into a proud smile. His mother's eyes glistened—not just with pride, but with sorrow.

It was then that Yang understood. His grandfather had brought him here not just to train him away from politics and schemes, but so they could spend his final days together.

The Farewell

That evening, Kagami called everyone to his bedside. He touched his grandson's face, his frail hands trembling. Then, he turned to Polan. "I never hated our clan. But as a leader, I had to put the family above my own heart. Live well. Your husband may be useless, but he has a good heart. I trust him to protect you."

Then, his voice grew weaker. "Burn my body and take my ashes back to Konoha. I miss your mother. I want to be with her."

The next morning, the pyre was lit. The flames roared, consuming the man who had once been one of the Uchiha's proudest warriors. Polan wept bitterly. Her husband held her close.

Yang stood before the fire, eyes sharp with resolve.

It was time to return to Konoha.