Konoha Year 42. Shisui had already joined the Academy. Ryuken, however, was focused on himself. His body. His mind. His chakra.
Night was for training. Shuriken. Taijutsu. Kenjutsu. Daylight was for watching. Observing. Learning. He wasn't the prodigy his brother was — he didn't need to be. Precision, patience, subtlety. That was Ryuken's strength.
The death of their grandmother had changed something inside him. The Sharingan awakened. Not one tomoe, like Shisui's. Two. He didn't know if it was her death that triggered it. Didn't matter. Training first. Survival first.
War loomed. The Third Great Ninja War. Dangerous. Brutal. Ryuken relied only on himself. Not Shisui. Not anyone else.
By Konoha Year 43, Ryuken was six. Academy entrance exam passed. Shisui walked him to the first day of school. Ryuken's gaze was cold, calculating. He would finish the Academy quickly. Avoid the battlefield. Stick to his own path.
All the new students gathered in the courtyard. The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, stepped forward. His words echoed: the "Will of Fire." Loyalty to the village. Protecting comrades. Nurturing bonds. Ideals meant to inspire.
Ryuken didn't listen. Arms crossed. Eyes scanning. Observing cracks — in the stone, in the adults, in the eager children who still believed in fairytales.
Manipulating them with fire and will? Pathetic.
The other kids cheered, wide-eyed, hanging on every word. Ryuken noticed it all. The cracks. The lies. The illusions.
Classmates included children from the Hyuga, Inuzuka, Nara, and other lesser-known clans. Unknown. Good. No distractions. Ryuken blended in deliberately. Not the best. Not a prodigy. Average.
But that was the point. Average was invisible. Average could strike. Average could survive.
Small moves. Precise moves. Sometimes, they hit harder than brute force.
And so, Ryuken's path began. Quiet. Calculated. Waiting for the moment when he would truly awaken.