Being born into a clan came with advantages that civilian shinobi could only envy. Even if you weren't the heir of some great name, the family's network was a ready-made channel for acquiring ninjutsu.
Reach a certain level of strength, and you'd be handed low- and mid-rank techniques as a matter of course.
The high-level ones? Those required service and contributions to the clan; a proof you were worth the investment.
For a civilian ninja, the road was steeper. There were only three real ways to learn new jutsu, and none of them were easy.
The first was lucking into a generous teacher. Most fresh graduates from the academy weren't assigned an elite jonin; that privilege went only to the most promising. The rest were led by a chunin squad leader, and if fortune smiled, maybe a special jonin.
But a teacher's approval had to be earned — and even then, not all ninjutsu could be passed down. Elemental compatibility could be an insurmountable wall.
Meet a stingy or secretive captain, and you could work yourself to exhaustion without learning a single new trick.
The second path was to make "great contributions" to the village. Not just the routine missions you were paid for but something exceptional, dangerous, and decided entirely at the discretion of Konoha's leadership. Which meant, more often than not, risking your life for an uncertain reward.
The third… was attaching yourself to someone powerful and playing the role of the loyal follower. Ebisu had done exactly that, flattering his way into the position of special jonin and private tutor to the Third Hokage's grandson. For some, that counted as success.
No matter the route, all were far more difficult than being born into a clan.
Gen knew that better than most. Uzuki Yugao, one of the strongest civilian shinobi he'd met, had risen to special jonin — yet her arsenal beyond kenjutsu was painfully small.
Without an unusual stroke of luck, civilian ninjas didn't waste money on chakra test paper; knowing your elemental affinity meant little if you couldn't afford to train in it.
For Gen, being Uchiha was both blessing and curse… but in this regard, it was pure fortune. Ninjutsu was not something he'd have to worry about for years.
With no idea when a transfer order might arrive, he spent the quiet days focusing almost entirely on Fire Release. The clan's mastery of the element was already in his blood, and the existence of Shuryu made the learning curve laughably short.
What better way to study fire's chakra nature than with a living embodiment of it? Shuryu was a library of flame, every flicker a lesson.
No wonder Gen's first high-level Homie had been fire-based; each layer of understanding stacked on the last, pushing his progress far beyond normal limits.
It wasn't instant, like the genjutsu he could master in a day, but still, the speed was staggering.
By the end of two weeks, his strength had surged. Even without counting Shuryu and the Homies, his skills had brushed against the jonin threshold. His taijutsu and battlefield instincts still lagged behind, but those could only come with time and blood.
He'd hoped to keep growing in the shadows… but as a front-line combatant, that was wishful thinking. The Third Hokage's order came down: Gen was to return to the war.
Even if he'd been part of the Police Force, a direct summons from the Hokage would have been impossible to refuse.
When he read the order, his feelings were mixed. Relief, because the nightmare of Kannabi Bridge, where only four Konoha shinobi had walked away, was over. Regret, because the battlefield remained deadly, and a single mistake could end him.
And then there was Obito. The boy had become Konoha's shining hero, and Gen hadn't had so much as a glimpse of him. On the front or in the village, their paths had never crossed.
Leaving the village without authorization was suicide — legally and literally.
The punishment was severe, and even if Gen risked it, tracking Obito's location on a battlefield commanded by Minato Namikaze was a fool's errand.
And even if he found him… could he kill Obito in front of Kakashi and Rin? Surviving that was unlikely. Even if he did, the backlash — from the Uchiha clan, from Konoha, from Madara himself — would be swift and absolute.
Sacrifice himself for the greater good? Please. He wasn't Naruto.
He'd hoped to wait until Obito returned to the village for a quieter opportunity, but the boy hadn't been back once. His home beside the clan grounds was still empty.
If Obito died now, Madara might not have the time or strength to find another puppet. Even if he did, the replacement would likely be weaker after all, Obito was one of a kind. But fate hadn't opened that door. Perhaps the "Child of Destiny" really was protected by absurd luck.
Still, Gen knew him. That knowledge, the foresight, was its own weapon.
With a sigh, Gen tucked the transfer order away, packed his gear, and turned in early.
By dawn, he was at Konoha's gates, breakfast in his stomach and weapons in place.
The guards on duty weren't Kamizuki Izumo or Hagane Kotetsu, just two unfamiliar shinobi. Around him, a hundred Konoha ninja gathered, answering roll call before setting off for the Land of Grass.
Their mission was simple on paper: reinforce the front and help corner the Iwagakure troops cut off from their supplies by the destruction of Kannabi Bridge. In reality, it was dangerous.
Iwagakure's unity was legendary; few would surrender. They would fight like trapped beasts, and trapped beasts were deadly.
The rear was sealed by Konoha's forces, and search teams combed the forests. The only path to survival for the enemy was to vanish into the Land of Fire in small groups, disguising themselves among civilians. But for the moment, most chose battle over hiding.
By evening, Gen's unit reached the front-line camp; a fortified slope at the edge of a dense forest, traps woven thick around the base of a lush green mountain. There was no barrier; the barrier squad simply didn't have enough shinobi to enclose such a large area.
Even so, Gen had to admire the commander. Forcing Iwa's troops into the mountain and holding them there was no small feat. Who was in charge of this operation?
His question was answered moments later.
A young man stepped into view at the camp entrance, blond hair catching the light, every movement radiating an easy confidence. Minato Namikaze. Behind him trailed a silver-haired boy and a brown-haired girl — Kakashi Hatake and Rin Nohara.
The captain leading Gen's team exchanged greetings with Minato, showering him with praise. Minato returned it with a modest smile, though the stories of his achievements had already spread across Konoha and beyond. Civilian shinobi especially spoke his name with near-religious admiration.
After the formalities, the group split. Minato led the higher-ranked shinobi into the command tent, while the rest were directed away by Kakashi and Rin for assignments.
Gen, still just a chunin, had no place in the strategy meeting. Which was fine.
He followed the pair into camp, hands tucked into his pockets, the thought rolling lazily through his mind:
Don't get attached. Don't get close. Makes it easier to kill them later.