The world of the newborn was a blend of warmth and gentle sounds. The rustle of silk, the soft rhythm of a mother's heartbeat, and the quiet whispers of a father who spoke with pride yet wore the weight of duty on his shoulders.
Time, at first, meant nothing. The days passed like fragments of light behind closed eyes. But for Arata—now Sasuke—each fragment carried more weight than it should have. Somewhere inside his tiny body lived the awareness of a grown man. He could not speak or move at will, yet his mind understood everything.
He remembered the goddess's face. Her voice echoed through his sleep like the pulse of creation itself. Every time he tried to recall her final words—about destiny breaking rather than bending—his body quivered slightly, as though the world itself hissed in warning.
By the time he was old enough to crawl, Sasuke could already sense chakra. It flowed through him like a quiet stream, gentle but alive. Most infants would giggle at colorful toys. Sasuke gazed instead at the invisible patterns in the air, faint lines of energy emanating from his parents. They were beautiful—blue threads twining around Fugaku's calm presence, silver light surrounding Mikoto's nurturing spirit.
When he stared hard enough, faint geometric symbols shimmered around these lights. Patterns. That was the first sign of his third wish—the analytical power awakening.
As months turned to years, Sasuke grew quickly, learning to walk, talk, and absorb information far beyond his apparent age. His father often commented, "He observes everything before acting. A true Uchiha."
Mikoto would smile and tousle his hair. "He's like his brother in that way… always watching quietly."
Itachi's silhouette often moved in the corner of Sasuke's vision. Elegant, controlled, already a prodigy. Arata adored him quietly. There was admiration—yes—but also sorrow. He remembered what would happen. The night of the massacre. The clan's fate. The endless pain that would shape Sasuke Uchiha into something broken.
Knowing the future was a curse with no immediate solution.
Every night before sleeping, he whispered silently, "I'll find a way… I won't let that night happen."
But there was no goddess now to guide him—only the faint hum of chakra, and the memories of an anime that had now become reality.
***
A Mind Too Mature for Its Age
Sasuke's days alternated between clan training grounds and quiet walks through Konoha under Mikoto's watchful eye. He noticed details others ignored: the faint symbol carved into the Uchiha stone tablet, the flicker of Anbu masks above the rooftops, and the subtle tension in adult conversations. Ambition simmered beneath the clan's surface. Even as a child, he could sense it—the weight of mistrust between the Uchiha and the village elders.
He practiced basic chakra control exercises at the riverbank. When Itachi wasn't watching, Sasuke stretched his senses outward, analyzing the chakra patterns of passing shinobi. His eyes tingled faintly each time, though no visible Sharingan appeared. It wasn't true eye power—just his analytical gift reacting like sonar.
His ability worked differently than he expected. It wasn't a simple copy function. Instead, it deconstructed chakra techniques into their mathematical essence—angles, flow density, and energy nodes. When he focused on a jutsu, ghost-like formulae appeared in his mind, as though the universe itself annotated reality for him.
One day, while playing near the training field, he saw his father practicing Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique. The roaring flames lit up the late afternoon sky, their reflection dancing in Sasuke's dark eyes.
Curious, he focused. Instantly, his mind visualized it—the pathway of chakra from the stomach, pressure build-up through hand seals, then combustion via oxygen intake. It was like watching the inner workings of nature's code. He gasped softly.
His father noticed. "Impressed, Sasuke?"
Little Sasuke nodded, pretending awe rather than understanding. "I'll learn that too someday."
Fugaku smiled faintly. "Then prove your control when you're older."
He didn't realize that his younger son already grasped the principle behind one of the Uchiha's signature jutsu.
***
The Shadow of Fate
As years passed, Sasuke turned five. Itachi, already in the Anbu, visited home less and less. Yet when he did, he spent time with Sasuke—teaching him hand seals, tactics, and patience. Their bond was deep, perhaps deeper now because Sasuke's soul carried both fraternal affection and existential guilt.
One quiet evening, Itachi returned early. They sat beneath the clan's old tree, surrounded by fireflies, the air thick with summer warmth.
"Sasuke," Itachi said softly, "do you ever think about destiny?"
The word pierced him. He forced a neutral smile. "A little. Why?"
Itachi looked up at the night sky, where the moon hung like a pale watcher. "Father says our destiny as Uchiha is power. But I wonder if destiny has a voice—or if we only listen to our own desires."
Sasuke stayed silent for a long moment. The goddess's warning echoed faintly: *'If you change fortune's core, destiny will correct itself.'*
Finally, he replied, "Maybe… destiny is a story people are too scared to rewrite."
Itachi turned toward him slowly. "That's a strange thing to say for a child."
Sasuke laughed weakly. "Maybe I read too many books."
But in truth, he wasn't sure if destiny could ever be rewritten safely. Each small deviation might awaken the world's hidden defenses—the mysterious "balance" the goddess spoke of. Still, he couldn't just watch Itachi walk into his doom.
He needed a plan.
That night, he sat awake long after Mikoto tucked him in. His thoughts ran deep, sharper than any child's should. He analyzed every known timeline he could remember from his past life—the moment of the Uchiha coup, Danzo's manipulation, Obito's interference. So many variables, and all centered around Itachi's impossible choice.
"If I could stop Obito from ever reaching him…" Sasuke whispered. "Or… if someone could intervene earlier…"
The idea struck him like lightning. A shadow clone. But not an ordinary one. If he could somehow place his adult consciousness, or a stabilized memory echo, into a clone with a different identity, perhaps that echo could act independently in key moments—like saving someone destined to die.
It felt crazy, but then again, he wasn't in the real world anymore. Logic here was chakra, not physics.
He smiled faintly. "Not yet though. I'm still too weak."
***
The Burden of Knowledge
The following week, he began practicing chakra division in secret. Hidden behind the woods outside the clan's compound, he attempted his first clone jutsu. His small body trembled with concentration, hands stiff as he formed the basic seals.
"Clone Jutsu!"
A puff of smoke appeared. The clone looked miserable—half-transparent, unstable. It dissipated almost instantly.
But Sasuke wasn't disheartened. He analyzed the process, tracing energy flow errors, recalculating pressure ratios. He tried again and again, each time refining the technique. By nightfall, a faint but stable clone stood before him, breathing softly, eyes reflecting intelligence.
Sasuke smiled. "So it starts."
The clone looked at him, confused at first. The mental link between them wasn't perfect. It contained fragments of memory—enough for simple thought exchange, but not an independent mind. Yet Sasuke could feel it. This was the blueprint for what would later become something greater.
Days turned into months. He mastered the technique quietly, hiding it from everyone, even his mother. To the world, he was merely an observant child. Inside, he was building the first step toward rewriting the narrative itself.
***
A Flicker of Premonition
One evening, as the setting sun turned the Uchiha district crimson, Sasuke sensed something unusual. The air shimmered faintly—like ripples of chakra that didn't belong to this place or time. He followed it, bare feet padding against the stone path until he reached the shrine where the Uchiha clan's tablet rested.
The doorway hummed. His Sharingan hadn't awakened yet, but his analytical ability amplified his perception. The energy here was strange, cyclical—time nested within space.
He kneeled before the altar. "Is this where destiny anchors itself?" he murmured.
For a brief moment, he swore he heard the goddess's voice again—a faint whisper carried on the energy.
"The more you look into fate, the closer it looks back."
Sasuke's eyes widened. The chakra lines in the air distorted violently, like threads tightening around him. He felt his knees weaken.
The sensation vanished as quickly as it came. But he understood the message: changing destiny would not be a simple act of willpower. The world reacted. It observed.
He returned home in silence, heart heavy but determined.
***
A Glimpse of Tomorrow
That night, Sasuke dreamt. In his dream, the sky burned red and the village lay in ruin. He saw his older self, standing among corpses, clutching a sword drenched in lightning. Opposite him stood a masked figure—his clone, grown older, radiating unmatched power.
"Why did you interfere?" the masked figure asked. His voice was identical to Sasuke's but colder.
"To save them," Sasuke shouted.
"There's no saving destiny," the masked figure replied. "You'll only break it. You'll see what happens when fate is forced."
Sasuke reached out, desperate, but the world shattered around him. He woke with a gasp, sweat dripping down his neck. The first rays of dawn filtered through the paper windows.
He pressed his hand over his heart and took a shaky breath. "That was just a dream," he whispered, though part of him knew otherwise.
It wasn't a dream. It was a glimpse. A warning.
***
A Silent Sunrise
He stood on his balcony as morning light spread across the Uchiha compound. Children ran along the path, laughing, unaware of the storm slowly gathering above their peaceful lives.
Itachi walked in the distance, calm and poised as always, already burdened with secrets and impossible choices.
Sasuke's gaze hardened slightly. "Not this time," he murmured. "This time, I'll be ready when that night comes."
Behind his calm eyes, invisible diagrams of chakra and time coiled like serpents, forming a plan that the world itself had never seen.
And far beyond mortal sight, in that vast dimension between worlds, the goddess of souls turned her head for the first time since his reincarnation. The golden fabric of fate trembled faintly.
A destiny had begun to shift.
To be continue...