The first time Akio tried to use Blink in a real-world situation, he face-planted directly into a tree.
Hard.
His head thunked against the bark just above his brow, and for a moment he thought he might've activated the wrong technique and warped himself into another dimension. But no — the tree was still here, his forehead still hurt, and the chakra drain was very, very real.
He groaned and slid down into the grass, rubbing the side of his head. The air smelled like morning dew and pine sap. Behind him, a kunai stuck awkwardly in the dirt, the target he'd tried to dodge.
"Still thinking too hard," a voice said from above.
Akio looked up.
Riku stood on the branch of a nearby tree, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face.
"You didn't warn me," Akio muttered, picking up the kunai.
"I did," Riku replied, hopping down. "Three seconds before I threw it. Plenty of time, if your eye is active."
"It was active," Akio said defensively, brushing grass off his shoulders. "I saw your chakra shift. The buildup around your fingers when you flicked the blade. But when I tried to Blink, I—I couldn't decide where to go. It's like—my chakra just hesitated."
"Then it's not your chakra that hesitated," Riku said, kneeling beside him. "It's you."
Akio frowned, but didn't reply. He knew Riku was right.
At five and a half years old, Akio had more self-awareness than most shinobi thrice his age. Some of it came from his reincarnated memories — fractured and fading, yes, but still grounded in a previous life's reasoning. The rest came from the Uchūgan.
The 1-Star version, which he had awakened at age four like the rest of his clan, wasn't flashy. It didn't allow him to bend space or see across dimensions like the legends spoke of. But it gave him just enough.
Enough to see chakra move. Enough to know when someone's heart wavered. Enough to tell when someone was lying.
And, as of now, enough to tell when he was hesitating.
Riku handed him a small water canteen. "Blink isn't about escape. It's about rhythm. If your eye can see two steps ahead, then you move one. Let it guide you."
Akio nodded, drinking quietly.
The Tengetsu Clan didn't believe in brute force. They believed in perception. In understanding. His grandfather always said that victory wasn't about overwhelming strength — it was about being in the right place before the battle began.
Still, Akio couldn't help but wonder.
What good was perception if his body couldn't keep up?
That afternoon, Akio and Riku walked back through the clan's inner compound. Konoha's early spring wind carried the scent of plum blossoms. The rooftops shimmered with sun-warmed tile, and children's laughter echoed faintly from the academy district in the distance.
Akio paused at the compound gate. Riku noticed.
"What is it?"
"Do you think they'll ever let us train at the academy?" Akio asked.
Riku exhaled through his nose. "Probably. When you're old enough. The Hokage is trying to unify the training structure, remember?"
"But none of the Tengetsu kids go. Not even the ones older than me."
Riku nodded. "Yeah. That's clan politics. We're… different."
Akio knew what he meant. The Uchūgan wasn't just a kekkei genkai — it was a kekkei mōra, tied to ancient chakra, Ōtsutsuki blood, and the Celestial Core. That kind of power, even if not fully awakened, made outsiders nervous.
"Do you think they're afraid of us?" Akio asked softly.
Riku didn't answer immediately.
When he did, it was with a quiet nod. "Some are. But mostly, they just don't understand us."
Akio thought of the masked figure from the treeline two nights ago. The one whose chakra flared like mist around a dagger. A professional. Trained to hide emotion, pressure, signature.
That kind of visitor didn't come for curiosity.
Later that evening, Akio sat cross-legged with his grandfather under the cedar tree again. Hiroshi watched the clouds move, his expression unreadable as always.
"Your eye hesitated today," Hiroshi said.
Akio blinked. "How'd you know?"
"I've trained fifty shinobi with the Uchūgan. Your chakra felt off when you came home. It was agitated but incomplete. Like it started a loop and never finished."
Akio let the silence stretch. "It's harder than I thought."
"Of course it is. You're five."
Akio gave a short laugh, then leaned back against the tree trunk. "Grandpa… can I ask something?"
Hiroshi's eyes didn't shift. "You may."
"Why don't we go to the academy?"
Hiroshi looked down now, folding his arms into his sleeves. "Because the academy can't teach you how to see."
"They teach everyone else."
"Everyone else doesn't have our eyes."
Akio nodded slowly. It wasn't condescending — it was fact. But still, part of him itched to know what it would be like to sit in a class next to kids like Naruto, Shikamaru, Sasuke…
He knew their names. He remembered flashes of their story.
But in this world, that story might play out very differently.
The next morning, Akio was summoned to the Northern Hall, where the Tengetsu elders held council with clan heads and external advisors. It was rare for a child to be invited, especially one so young.
He found Hiroshi already waiting there, flanked by three elders. Riku stood off to the side, hands clasped behind his back. The room was quiet, but something about it felt... heavy.
"Akio," Hiroshi said, gesturing him forward. "Come."
He obeyed, bowing politely before standing straight.
One of the elders — an old woman named Fubuki, who always smelled of cedarwood and wore silver feathers in her hair — spoke first.
"We've received word from the Hokage's council," she said. "There's a proposal for clan integration into the revised academy schedule."
Akio blinked. "Integration?"
"You would attend alongside Uchiha, Hyūga, Inuzuka," Hiroshi said. "It would be limited — observational at first. No jutsu instruction unless approved."
"Why now?" Akio asked.
Fubuki tilted her head. "Because they're watching you."
Akio's fingers curled slightly. "Me?"
"Your awakening happened cleanly. At the exact age we predicted. But your profile was flagged."
"…By who?"
"Root."
The word sank into the room like a falling stone.
Hiroshi's voice was sharp now. "You've already sensed one of their scouts. They're probing. Testing our compliance. Making sure we're not building another Uchiha."
Akio went still. The name hit like a ghost from history.
"They think we'll rebel," Riku said quietly.
"They fear what they don't control," Fubuki added.
Akio looked to his grandfather. "So what do we do?"
Hiroshi gave a small nod. "We let them see you. But only the surface."
And so began Akio's slow introduction to life outside the clan.
Two days later, he was allowed to attend half-days at the academy — no jutsu training, only lectures and observational exercises. Iruka-sensei welcomed him with the same kind warmth he gave every student, though Akio could sense the underlying curiosity.
He sat three seats behind Naruto. Two ahead of Shikamaru. Occasionally glanced sideways at Sasuke.
He didn't say much.
Didn't need to.
He was watching.
He was always watching.
By the end of that first week, something became clear: he wasn't special here.
Not in the academy.
Not in the way Naruto tried to be — loud, defiant, desperate for attention.
Not in the way Sasuke was — cold, sharp, carrying an invisible pressure like a drawn sword.
Akio was quiet. Calculated. Curious.
And he loved it.
Here, his eye worked differently. Not on combat or chakra tracking, but on people. He saw how Hinata's chakra flared nervously when Naruto spoke. How Shino's signature barely pulsed at all. How Iruka's tone shifted depending on who was speaking.
He studied them like puzzles. Not to exploit — but to understand.
That night, he wrote in the notebook his grandfather had given him.
Day 1 – Academy Observation
Naruto: loud, chakra bright and unstable
Sasuke: silent, flares of tension under surface
Sakura: sharp focus, narrow bandwidth
Iruka: kind, layered control, emotional spikes when Naruto acts out
No one here understands chakra signatures.
They all use their eyes to see.
I use mine to listen.
As the moon rose over Konoha that night, Akio stood on the training platform behind the Tengetsu compound, practicing his Blink again.
This time, he didn't overthink it.
He didn't look for a destination.
He looked for rhythm.
The world around him shimmered faintly — chakra fields pulsing, air pressure shifting, the tiny threads of natural energy flickering at the edges of his vision.
He felt Riku's chakra behind him, preparing a sweep.
Akio breathed in.
Let the tension go.
And Blinked.
The kunai passed harmlessly through the space he'd just occupied. Akio reappeared behind the stump ten meters away, balanced and silent.
He didn't smile.
Didn't gloat.
Just exhaled.
Riku looked back and gave a nod.
Akio tightened his grip on the blade in his hand.
He was getting faster.
He was seeing more.
But more than anything—
He was learning when not to act.
And in the long shadow of the Uchiha, of Root, of forces far larger than him—
That might be the most dangerous thing of all.
[End of Chapter 3]