Two and a half years later.
Morning light shimmered across the surface of the Naka River, golden ripples dancing with the current—an inviting sight.
Yet behind the river, at the Uchiha clan's training ground, the air was thick with impatience and frustration.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
Sasuke's fingers trembled slightly as he formed the seals.
He raised his right hand to his mouth, chest swelling as scorching chakra gathered in his throat—
Then puh.
He spat it out with all his strength.
Pffsh.
A fireball barely the size of a fist flew two meters before dispersing helplessly into the wind.
It didn't even raise the surrounding temperature.
"…Failed again."
Sasuke clenched his teeth. Guilt and disappointment flickered through his eyes.
He had started practicing Fire Style half a year ago.
And this Great Fireball Technique—he'd been stuck on it for a full two months.
Even starting a campfire felt difficult.
Nearby, Fugaku's eyes flashed with disappointment.
"Perhaps… I shouldn't have hoped for too much," he said quietly.
"Itachi is already a rare genius. Kai is a once-in-a-generation anomaly. As for Sasuke… maybe it's fine if he's just ordinary."
In truth, mastering this much in two months already counted as excellent talent.
But compared to brothers who learned techniques at a glance—
It simply wasn't enough.
Thinking this, Fugaku gently patted Sasuke's shoulder in comfort.
"It's fine, Sasuke. Even Itachi only managed five meters the first time he used Great Fireball."
Over the years, under Kai's influence, everyone had naturally started calling him Itachi as "Itachi."
"R-really?" Sasuke's small face lit up instantly.
"Mine reached two meters… How long did Itachi-niisan take to learn it?"
"Uh…" Fugaku hesitated, unsure how to answer.
Tell the truth?
That would crush the kid.
But lie—
Before he could decide, a lazy voice drifted down from the courtyard wall.
"Oh, Itachi just watched Father perform it once, then copied it and spat it out successfully."
"And by the way, Second Pillar," Kai added casually, waving a hand,
"Father meant five meters in diameter, not length."
Kai rolled onto his side atop the wall, smiling cheerfully at the two below—both of whom he hadn't chatted with yet today.
One sentence.
That was all it took to completely crush Sasuke's spirit.
Drip.
Drip.
Sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose.
He bit his lower lip hard, nails digging into his palms until they turned white.
Two months of desperate training—
And he still couldn't match a single imitation from his brother.
The more anxious he became, the more his chakra ran wild, like an unbridled horse crashing through his meridians.
It even showed signs of losing control.
Fugaku patted his shoulder again, unsure what to say.
"Father," Kai spoke again, one leg braced on the wall, the other dangling casually,
"maybe Sasuke just isn't suited for Fire Style."
He wasn't just saying this to fill the ten-minute conversation requirement.
It was the truth.
Sasuke's Fire Style really was average—especially compared to his astonishing affinity for Lightning Style.
In Kai's memory, this version of Sasuke practically pulled lightning every time he drew his sword.
When Kirin descended, the entire shinobi world's understanding of Lightning Style was raised by a level.
So—for better copying efficiency—Kai felt it was time to set things right.
After all, in all these years, he hadn't copied a single decent trait from Sasuke.
"Nonsense!" Fugaku snorted coldly.
"The Uchiha clan has been famed for Fire Style since the Warring States era! Especially that legendary man—his fire could even burn away Lord Hashirama's Wood Style!"
"What an honor that was!"
Yeah, yeah—burned it once, and now he's lying underground waiting to mess you all up.
Kai rolled his eyes inwardly and flipped down from the wall.
When he landed, the dust kicked up… yet strangely curved around the hem of his clothes.
After two and a half years of "photosynthesis," the chakra surrounding him had become deep and solid like an abyssal pool.
As he looked at Sasuke, Kai's right eye suddenly flared with faint pale-blue veins.
The Byakugan of the Hyuga main family.
Over these years, he had refined its use to perfection—
activating it at will, concealing it just as easily.
Within the 360-degree, blind-spot-free vision, Sasuke's chakra network appeared clearly before him.
Blue and violet chakra pathways interwove throughout his body.
Restless arcs of lightning surged along the meridians, violently colliding with the red chakra every time Sasuke attempted Fire Style.
"Lightning restrains earth. Fire restrains wind."
Kai raised two fingers.
"But lightning and fire…"
"…That's like throwing explosive tags into a bonfire. It can't handle it."
As his words fell, dazzling lightning suddenly burst from his fingertips.
Sasuke's pupils went completely rigid.
"O-old… old Second Brother?! When did you learn Lightning Style?!"
Beside him, Fugaku was just as stunned—
even carrying a hint of delight.
In his memory, this second son had awakened his Sharingan early, yes—but spent most days sleeping in the sun.
So where did this Lightning Style come from?
Did it fall from the sky?
Almost instinctively, crimson light flashed in Fugaku's eyes.
Three tomoe spun into existence—
And faintly, they showed signs of linking together…
Just then, Kai's voice cut in, halting the change.
"Father."
"The Sharingan allows us to predict the path of lightning."
"And Lightning Style—"
He turned to his stunned younger brother.
"—lets lightning catch up to our eyes."
As he spoke, Kai clenched his right hand.
"Kii—!"
In an instant, the shrill cry of a thousand birds echoed through the air.
High-density electric currents converged wildly in his palm!
Brilliant blue light swallowed the surroundings, crackling violently!
"T-this—!"
"Lightning Style: Chidori?!"
Fugaku's pupils shook violently.
The three tomoe vanished, his eyes clearing at once.
Chidori.
Kakashi's signature technique.
Even Fugaku had heard of it.
But—
How was it appearing in his second son's hand?
Did Kakashi teach Kai?
No—
That shouldn't be possible.
The Third Hokage would never allow it.
Perhaps… it's time to advance the coup.
In that moment, Fugaku's thoughts spiraled wildly.
As for Sasuke—
Only one word remained on his face.
Want.
He wanted it.
Loved it.
Craved it.
That overwhelming, flashy, impossibly cool technique—
He loved it to death.
But when did Kai—who only lazed around in the sun—learn something like this?
Did he learn it from sunbathing again?
Or from being chased by dogs?
Even with absurd talent, mastering a technique of this level should require enormous effort.
Yet Kai controlled it as naturally as breathing.
No practice. No strain.
At that moment, as Sasuke looked again at his "unmotivated" second brother—
His face slowly flushed.
With shame.
He had trained himself half to death—
Yet Kai learned faster and stronger just by lying in the sun.
A thought suddenly rose in his heart:
A genius brother.
A monster named Kai.
And…
A stupid him.
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