The border war raged on, yet within Konoha Village, peace lingered. The atmosphere was calm, almost detached from the chaos beyond its walls.
While shinobi fought on distant battlefields, most villagers were preoccupied with rebuilding their homes and restoring normalcy to daily life.
Deep in the forest near the newly expanded Uchiha compound, Uchiha Gen stood beneath a towering tree. His body sank into a stable horse stance, fists darting forward in crisp, unbroken rhythm.
Each strike—Seiken Zuki—was sharp and precise, like the thrust of a spear. The flow of his punches was smooth and unyielding, steady as if driven by a machine. Every extension, every retraction, was identical, repeated thousands of times without faltering.
To a trained eye, natural energy shimmered faintly around him—like a mist tinged with color—coiling and converging with each punch. His spirit energy resonated with the flow of nature itself.
Gen believed there were three great pillars of strength in the shinobi world: Taijutsu, Ninjutsu through chakra, and Senjutsu—Sage Arts.
Taijutsu was straightforward but merciless. Few could achieve greatness in it without unshakable will and relentless discipline. In Konoha, Might Dai and his son Guy embodied this truth—pushing their bodies to the extreme, eventually mastering the fearsome Eight Gates, a power as destructive as it was fleeting.
Senjutsu, in contrast, was shrouded in mystery. Even geniuses like Orochimaru, who had mastered countless forbidden arts, could not enter the realm of natural energy. Unable to properly harness it, he resorted instead to imitations like the Cursed Seal. True Senjutsu, taught in the sacred realms of Mount Myōboku, Ryūchi Cave, and Shikkotsu Forest, remained a path only for those with rare aptitude.
And then there was chakra—the most common system of power, but one that originated beyond this world. Long ago, Kaguya Ōtsutsuki consumed the fruit of the God Tree, birthing chakra into humanity. Her son, Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, the Sage of Six Paths, spread its use through Ninshū, and from that foundation, shinobi techniques were born.
But to Gen, chakra alone was not enough. He saw it as borrowed power, a gift from the Ōtsutsuki. True greatness lies in Senjutsu—the art of harmonizing with the world itself.
And so, his cultivation was rooted in natural energy.
By sensing, absorbing, and refining it, he sought to evolve. Each punch was not merely a strike, but a vessel to draw in energy, to temper body and spirit alike.
His daily regimen grew harsher with time: one thousand punches became two, then four, until now he could endure ten thousand.
At last, two hours passed, and the final strike landed. Heat poured from his body, sweat dripping in heavy streams. The perspiration carried traces of black filth, foul-smelling impurities expelled from his system. His breathing slowed, bones cracking lightly as his body adjusted and strengthened.
After washing himself in a nearby stream, Gen made his way home.
But as he stepped from the forest, his path was blocked by the sound of shouting.
In the clearing ahead, two groups of Uchiha boys faced off. One side had numbers—over a dozen—while the other had only three. Yet it was clear the three held the advantage; their presence pressed down on the larger group like a weight.
"Hah! So this is where you've been hiding, Daishi," one of the three sneered. "Secret training? What a waste of time. Trash like you will always be trash."
Several boys lay sprawled on the ground, bruised and groaning. Their leader, Uchiha Daishi, staggered upright, glaring defiantly.
"Uchiha Eiji," he spat, "don't get cocky. When our big brother gets here, you won't be laughing anymore!"
Eiji, the boy at the center of the trio, smirked. "A waste's brother is still a waste."
Daishi and the others didn't rise to the bait. Instead, their eyes shifted behind Eiji—filled not with anger, but something else. Amusement. Even relief.
"Brother Eiji," one of his companions whispered, trembling. "Behind you!"
Eiji froze. How had someone approached without him noticing? He instantly flickered away, reappearing ten meters back in a blur of movement.
Body Flicker Technique.
The watching boys gasped in awe. For one his age to already use such a skill was proof of his talent—and of his main-branch lineage.
But when Eiji turned, he saw nothing. His companions, however, still stared behind him in terror.
Too late, he realized.
He leapt and twisted midair, snapping his leg back in a fierce roundhouse.
Bang!
His heel struck something unyielding—like steel. Pain shot up his calf as he landed, wincing despite himself.
Then a calm voice followed.
"So it's you, Uchiha Gen."
Across from him, Gen lowered his hand, having blocked the kick with a single palm strike.
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