"The change in my spirit… lies in my left eye."
Kiyoshi could clearly feel it—
A power was quietly forming within, like something about to break through.
Just one final step… and it would awaken completely.
He remained shirtless as he began refining chakra within his body, gathering it and guiding it along the meridian pathway of Lightning Release: Iron Body.
Invisible currents spread throughout him, unseen by the naked eye.
"...Haa."
Kiyoshi let out a slow breath.
This was, after all, only a D-rank technique. Its effect on his current body had already become minimal. Before long, it would likely become completely useless.
He needed stronger—better—ninjutsu.
"Kiyoshi."
A familiar voice suddenly came from outside the door.
"I'm coming."
He stepped across the worn courtyard and opened the door.
"Mikoto-san, what brings you here?"
He spoke calmly.
Her long black hair fell behind her waist, contrasting sharply with his clearly defined, muscular physique.
"Kiyoshi, this is your allowance for this month."
Mikoto carried a cloth bag over her shoulder. She reached inside and pulled out a stack of banknotes marked with the symbol of Konoha.
"Kiyoshi, you—"
As she was about to hand over the money, she suddenly froze.
Only then did she realize—
Kiyoshi was bare-chested.
His physique was firm, well-defined, and aesthetically balanced. It was the first time Mikoto had seen such a body, and she couldn't help but look twice.
Fugaku had been injured on the battlefield before, and she had seen him without his shirt as well.
But even then… his body was not as proportionate and pleasing as Kiyoshi's.
Is this the talent of the Yotsuki clan…?
The shape of muscles was, to a large extent, innate.
Some people could train endlessly, yet their abdominal muscles would never align perfectly.
Some had eight-pack abs, while others could only ever develop six.
Only now did Mikoto truly understand why Tsunade had once said Kiyoshi was suited to become a taijutsu-type ninja.
"I'm sorry, Mikoto-san. I was training just now and forgot to put on a shirt."
Kiyoshi looked up slightly, his tone apologetic.
Mikoto was still a bit taller than him at the moment.
"Ah, it's fine. You're still just a child."
She quickly shook her head.
Why would she make a big deal out of something like this with a child?
She handed him the money, reminding him to use it sparingly.
"I understand, Mikoto-san."
Kiyoshi nodded.
This money was essentially his living expenses.
His daily costs all came from here—part from Konoha's subsidy, and part from the internal support of the Uchiha clan.
It was enough for an ordinary person to live on, but for a ninja, it was still somewhat tight.
"I've made plans with Fugaku. I'll come see you another time."
Mikoto waved goodbye.
Kiyoshi responded politely. Only after her figure disappeared did he close the door.
"Same as before… I still need to make money as soon as possible."
He counted the amount of money, then carefully stored it away.
He could squeeze some resources from Kurenai for now, but that wasn't a long-term solution.
At best, he could afford an ordinary katana.
After sparring with Kakashi once, the blade had already chipped and required maintenance.
On a real battlefield, there would be no time for repairs.
"I still need a chakra blade forged from special metal."
Kiyoshi thought to himself.
A chakra blade could absorb the user's chakra nature, greatly reducing resistance when channeling it. With such a weapon, the result would be twice the effect with half the effort.
He then took out Lightning Release: Lightning Finger, a technique he hadn't practiced since first learning it, and began deepening his understanding of lightning-style ninjutsu.
"Mikoto, you're here."
Fugaku, drenched in sweat, removed his green flak jacket.
He had just finished training.
For a ninja, constant self-improvement was essential—otherwise, one would fall behind.
"Did you give Kiyoshi his allowance?"
"Yes."
Mikoto nodded, then suddenly noticed a hole in the mesh armor on his upper body.
Ninjas often wore a net-like protective garment known as chainmail.
"There's a hole in your clothes."
She pointed it out.
Fugaku followed her gaze and saw a small hole, about two centimeters wide, exposing the skin beneath.
"Must've been burned during fire-style training."
He casually removed his shirt, revealing his sturdy upper body.
"What is it, Mikoto?"
Seeing her staring, he thought she might be embarrassed.
"No… it's nothing."
Mikoto shook her head lightly.
But after comparing again—
Fugaku's physique still wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as Kiyoshi's.
Just how does a child train to reach that level…?
Though Fugaku looked taller and more robust overall, his proportions weren't as balanced.
"I see."
Fugaku smiled and took out a new piece of chainmail to wear.
He still had some confidence in his physique—after all, he had fought on battlefields for years and endured countless hardships.
"The clan meeting is about to begin. Let's go."
"Mm."
Mikoto nodded.
These periodic gatherings were mandatory for Uchiha who had become ninja.
Above ground, at the Naka Shrine, was where daytime discussions were held—even non-ninja Uchiha could attend.
But beneath it, in a hidden chamber, were the true internal meetings of the clan.
For the sake of secrecy, ordinary members had no access to it.
Hatake residence.
The setting sun hung low in the sky.
As usual, Kakashi returned home quickly after finishing his training.
But the moment he opened the door—
He felt something was wrong.
The air was heavy.
Oppressive.
And there was a faint smell—
Of blood.
And decay.
He frowned, removed his shoes, and said,
"Father, I'm home."
No response came.
Kakashi's heart sank slightly as he walked toward his father's room.
Ever since being criticized by those he had saved, his father had not stepped outside again.
As he passed through the living room, he noticed several yellowed sheets of paper on the table—once used for receiving guests.
They were filled with dense writing, the ink not yet fully dried.
Kakashi glanced at them.
Words like "regret" and "failure of duty" appeared repeatedly, every line steeped in despair.
"Father?"
A sense of unease rose within him.
He almost broke into a run as he pushed the door open.
What he saw inside—
Struck him like lightning.
Hatake Sakumo lay on the tatami.
A sharp blade had pierced his chest.
Blood had already soaked through his clothes…
And seeped deep into the tatami beneath him.
The darkened stains carried a suffocating metallic smell.
Kakashi froze in place, his eyes wide, his mind unable to process what he was seeing.
"…Why…?"
A hoarse voice finally escaped his throat.
He staggered forward and collapsed to his knees beside the body.
His trembling hand reached out—
Touching his father's hand.
Cold.
Rigid.
Lifeless.
Grief.
Anger at the rules.
Helpless self-blame.
All of it surged into him at once—
As if it would drown him completely.
He had lost his father.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
End of Chapter