The morning sunlight filtered over the Uchiha district as Tobika trudged down the main street, palm pressing against a stomach suffering from an oil-heavy breakfast. Eight visible abs and not a trace of fat, yet his gut felt like someone had ladled boiling tempura oil straight inside. That was the danger of letting a student cook unsupervised.
The usual greetings floated over.
"Morning, Tobika-dono!"
"Morning."
"Ayo, little Tobika, you've got oil shining on your face. Eat too well lately? Auntie's got some fresh cucumbers today, thick ones. I give discount!"
"It's sweat. From morning training. And your cucumbers look swollen, not fresh. Stop soaking them in water every night. I swear, the clan should host a matchmaking fair so you'll stop flirting with vegetables."
"Tobika-nii, want candy?"
"There's saliva on it. Lick it clean."
"…Licked!"
"Still saliva. Keep licking."
"…Licked!"
"Still—"
Watching him tease a toddler like he was pranking a clueless genin, Uzuki Yugao (夕颜) could only roll her eyes. This was her instructor? Not the cold, intimidating Uchiha she imagined. More like an annoyingly handsome older brother who never shut up, but in a good way.
At one point, Tobika handed an entire fried-chicken family bucket to a crying kid whose tooth popped out. Yugao almost smiled. Almost.
"Teacher, you're really different from the others," she said.
Tobika dusted off his pants. "We're not as different as outsiders think. Uchiha cry, laugh, bicker, eat too much. But the stronger they get, the more smiles they lose."
"Then… what about you, sensei? You're a jonin. You smile more than most civilians."
Tobika gave a flat stare. "First time on the battlefield, I got assigned corpse-retrieval. Thousands of bodies across a plain. Flies everywhere. And then my friends died one by one. You either break… or go numb. I went numb. Once you're numb, the rest of the clan's drama feels like background noise."
Yugao's eyes widened. So he had been scared. Then got used to death. Then… overshot normal sanity and circled back around to a weird, functional version of "fine." That would explain a lot.
"Come on," he said, waving her after him. "Time to show you something."
They arrived at the center plaza of the Uchiha compound. Three massive stone monuments stood tall. The middle was the clan crest. To its right, a great war-fan carved in heroic style. To the left—Yugao froze.
A towering warrior statue, muscled like a god, eyes shaped like carved Sharingan. An overwhelming presence.
"Sensei… that war god… what is that?"
"That," Tobika said, "is what certain Uchiha produce when they force their chakra into massive physical form. Costs your eyes, though. Like betting your vision for a giant beating stick."
"And… you could do that?"
"No. And won't. I'd like to keep both eyes."
He continued walking, eyes half-glazed. "Seventy percent of transmigrators would kill to come here and unlock that thing, though," he muttered to himself.
They reached a shabby, ancient building—older than most elders.
"This is—"
"The clan academy," Tobika said. "Before the village built the official academy, every clan trained its own. Now only preschool-age kids come here."
"Teacher… you teach here too?"
"Temporarily. The old instructor had vertigo, fought with the Great Elder, lost, and now he's in the hospital."
Inside, after briefly flipping through "A Complete Commentary on the Will of Fire," Tobika tossed the book aside. "Morning study sessions are crimes against humanity. Let's move."
He led all the children into the plaza again, summoned two dozen fried-chicken buckets with a lazy series of hand seals, and placed them on the ground.
Yugao paled instantly. The last time she ate those, she nearly died on the toilet.
But the children cheered, grabbing chicken and surrounding him with grease-coated smiles. Tobika clapped twice.
"Alright. Last time, I taught you the history of Konoha. Today, we're covering the village's spiritual backbone: the Will of Fire."
Crunching on chicken, he continued:
"The Will of Fire began with Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. Hashirama wanted a village to protect the next generation. Madara agreed because protecting Uchiha children mattered more than pride. That core idea—protecting your descendants—is the true origin of the Will of Fire."
The kids nodded, oil dripping down their tiny chins.
Tobika's eyes narrowed. Across the plaza, Uchiha Itachi stood alone, waiting for Shisui like a tiny monk contemplating life at age four.
Tobika raised his voice. "Hey, Young Chief! What's your Will of Fire?"
Itachi looked startled, then recited from memory:
"Wherever the leaves dance, one is sure to find fire. The fire's shadow will warm the village and cause new leaves to grow."
Tobika waved him off like swatting a fly.
"That's naive nonsense. Kids, ignore him. That's the Third Hokage's Will of Fire. Not yours."
The children blinked. So did Yugao.
"Sensei," she whispered, "the Will of Fire… has versions?"
"Of course. Every Hokage has their own."
He lifted three fingers.
"Madara's Will of Fire: Bring all nations under one rule for eternal peace. A bit violent, maybe, but straightforward.
Hashirama's: Balance power by distributing tailed beasts. Naively hopeful, but works if everyone plays nice.
Tobirama's: Make Konoha great again. Strengthen the village, weaken internal factions, standardize education. Ruthless efficiency."
"What's ours, teacher?" a boy asked.
Tobika shrugged. "Whatever fits, as long as it protects the next generation. Your Will of Fire can be strict, lazy, righteous, paranoid—doesn't matter. What matters is not letting idiots drag your whole clan into ruin in the name of 'love' or 'duty.'"
The kids continued munching chicken.
"To put it simply:Sacrificing family for the village? That's a sage.Killing your whole family for the village? That's an ultra-sage.Killing your entire clan and digging up the ancestors too? That's an idiot."
He looked pointedly toward the direction Shisui had taken Itachi.
From now on, he would teach these children his curriculum. Anti-guilt, anti-manipulation, anti-self-sacrifice propaganda. Kid-proof defenses against future Danzo nonsense. Public education reform, Uchiha-style.
He raised his hands high.
"Idiots don't get fried chicken!"
Instantly the children raised their buckets and shouted:
"Fried chicken!"
"Fried chicken!"
"Clan leader divorces, we get fried chicken!"
"…Fried chicken!"
"…Fried chicken!"
Yugao stared at them, horrified.
Meanwhile, far away in an underground cavern beneath the Land of Grass…
Madara slowly awakened. White Zetsu offered another intelligence slip.
He opened it.
His own supposed "Will of Fire"—a dramatic, domineering proclamation about unifying the world for everlasting peace.
Madara laughed until the coughing almost killed him.
"So they finally understand me… correctly?"
He wiped blood from his lips.
"Gather intel on Uchiha Tobika."
"Huh?" White Zetsu tilted its head. "Didn't you call him the shame of the Uchiha and burn his file?"
Madara froze. Then frowned suspiciously.
"Have Hashirama's cells made me stupid?"
Another White Zetsu popped out of the ground. "He was training as a medic nin when we scouted him."
"…Ah. That explains it. Never mind."
He leaned back, breathing shallowly.
"Four months left… before the endgame."
And somewhere above him, in the bright open world, Uchiha Tobika fed another child fried chicken.