The Uchiha were one of Konoha's founding clans. Logically speaking, even if the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, wanted to wipe out the Uchiha, there would be neither justification nor pretext. And yet, through his own missteps, he had gradually led things toward the abyss of annihilation.
Before entering the Uchiha clan compound, there was a commercial street filled with various modern decorations. But once past that, the streets within the clan district shifted to a more traditional architectural style.
Every wall bore the Uchiha clan's distinctive red-and-white fan emblem. The people on the streets were almost all Uchiha, dressed in clan attire. Quite a few wore the green flak jackets of the Konoha Police Force—the Uchiha clan's patrol and security unit.
"You're entering Uchiha territory. What business do you have here, Genin Baixing?"
The speaker was a black-haired young man with long hair and a sharp, intimidating gaze. A ninja sword hung at his waist, and a green flak jacket was draped over his shoulders as he looked at the trio entering the clan grounds.
Yakushi Nono and Might Duy both swallowed nervously. This was not a place they would normally dare to come near. A little further ahead stood the imposing headquarters of the village's Police Force—the place responsible for arresting and punishing criminals. Ordinary villagers avoided it like the plague.
"I'm here for my student. Her name is Uchiha Mikoto. Do you know her?"
Baixing wasn't surprised that an Uchiha ninja recognized him. As a D-rank mission maniac, he frequently crossed paths with the Police Force. Even if they hadn't met him personally, they would have heard of him. Besides, the man in front of him clearly wasn't an ordinary ninja.
"I see."
The somewhat mature-looking man spoke. "My name is Uchiha Fugaku. I'm a jōnin of the Uchiha clan."
"As for Mikoto," Fugaku continued, "I've already heard about her situation from my father. He'll personally visit the Hokage to discuss this matter. There's no need for you to come here."
After saying that, Fugaku seemed to recall something else and added bluntly,
"Also, Genin Baixing. There will be a chūnin exam in mid-July. Mikoto will pass it in one go. These short two months of guidance can be handled by our clan. You may return."
"I haven't received any order from the Hokage," Baixing replied calmly, meeting Fugaku's fierce eyes head-on.
"If Jōnin Fugaku has already obtained the Hokage's approval, then please submit the official paperwork so I can confirm it properly."
"And what do you think you can teach Mikoto?" Fugaku asked coolly.
"Ninjutsu? Genjutsu? Shurikenjutsu?" His gaze swept over the ninja sword at Baixing's waist. "Or perhaps… swordsmanship?"
Baixing's expression remained steady.
Before coming here, he had already anticipated this social beating. The oppressive aura of a future clan head, the surrounding Uchiha watching with mocking eyes—if he truly fought back and casually crushed a jōnin, he would "advance" on the spot. And that would only put an extra transmigrator's corpse onto the Second Shinobi World War's slaughterhouse floor.
Hold it together, my murderous hands!
This is not the time to make a sensational debut!
Seeing Baixing's trembling fingers, Fugaku sighed inwardly. As expected, just a genin.
"Alright. I'll give you a chance to challenge me," Fugaku said.
"Shurikenjutsu is the fairest form of competition. As long as you can… draw with me, I'll personally take you to see Mikoto."
"A deal."
Baixing took a deep breath internally. His fingers finally stopped trembling, drifting farther away from the sword hilt.
Behind them, Yakushi Nono and Might Duy whispered among themselves.
Yakushi Nono: "Do you think Baixing can win?"
Might Duy's gaze wavered. His usual fiery talk of youth was subdued by reality.
"There's no problem! Baixing's strength isn't that simple!"
Yakushi Nono: "..."
Didn't you say yesterday that his strength was about the same as yours?
...
"Ten shuriken, ten kunai. We'll decide by average score. Don't say I bullied you."
At the training ground, many Uchiha gathered around, watching like it was a show. Shouts rang out from time to time:
"Why is the young clan head bullying a genin?"
"This genin really doesn't know his place!"
Hearing Fugaku announce the rules, Baixing had no objections. He weighed the kunai in his hand, immediately noting the quality—even the training weapons of the Uchiha were high-grade, worth at least a thousand ryō each.
"You first, or me?"
Baixing glanced down at the boundary line, then looked up at the target more than a hundred meters away—a distance that could only be hit with chakra-enhanced throws.
Without solid chakra control, hitting the target at all would be impossible.
The body was like a machine gun, always ready to fire, while kunai and shuriken were the bullets.
When strengthening the body with chakra, even a slight excess or deficiency in force would ruin the accuracy of thrown weapons.
"At this distance, I train often. I can keep my accuracy at around seven rings," Fugaku said.
As soon as his words fell, his right hand grabbed five shuriken at once.
Whoosh!
They streaked through the air as five black lines. Thud, thud! Five crisp impacts rang out—every shuriken hit the target.
The Uchiha spectators gasped, then erupted into cheers praising the young clan head.
Another five black arcs followed, slicing through the air and embedding themselves squarely into the red-and-white target.
"Average score: seven rings."
"Do you want me to demonstrate with kunai as well?" Fugaku chuckled.
In this situation, even a genuine chūnin wouldn't be able to throw five shuriken at once and still maintain seven-ring accuracy at one hundred and fifty meters.
Baixing pinched a single shuriken between his fingers and asked tentatively,
"So that means I also have to throw five at once and average seven rings to win?"
Fugaku paused, then smiled and shook his head.
"No, no. Use whatever method you like, as long as you don't cross the line—"
Thud!
An Uchiha clan member, his Sharingan active and pen in hand as he recorded scores, suddenly felt something red-hot whip past his face.
The next instant, a shuriken—half of it glowing with searing heat—was clearly embedded in Baixing's target.
"Te… ten rings?!"
The scorer's shocked cry instantly stunned the surrounding spectators. Even Yakushi Nono and Might Duy, who had already prepared themselves for their teacher's defeat and the team's dissolution, were frozen in disbelief.
They couldn't guarantee seven-ring accuracy at one hundred and fifty meters either.
Shuriken were cheap not only because of their poor materials and low lethality, but also because their accuracy dropped drastically at long range—necessitating multiple throws to raise the hit rate.
To be suppressed in the Uchiha clan's specialty by a nameless genin left Fugaku staring in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.
A moment later, he activated his Sharingan.
As an outstanding graduate only a year older than Baixing, a prodigy who had become a jōnin at a young age, how could his talent possibly be inferior?
"You—throw again!"
If he wasn't mistaken, that shuriken technique just now resembled a method that should only be usable with a B-rank technique. But under normal circumstances… that jutsu wasn't used like that at all.