Konoha Village.Early Year 48.Uchiha District.Clan Shrine.
The shrine was crowded.
Too crowded.
Clan members filled the chamber, voices overlapping, arguments colliding without restraint. Whatever was being discussed had already passed the stage of disagreement. The tone had sharpened into something colder.
Unforgiving.
"Two pupils?"
"That kind of abnormality doesn't belong in the Uchiha."
"It's a liability."
"The risk is unacceptable."
The words shifted, but the conclusion remained the same. A child had been born different, and the difference was being weighed as a threat.
A decision was forming.
"Enough."
A heavy voice cut through the noise.
A man pushed himself up from his seat, large-framed and broad, his movements abrupt. His expression was livid.
"My child's life is not something you get to decide."
All eyes turned.
An elder narrowed his gaze. "Uchiha Jōan, do you understand what you're saying? Your son was born with an ocular defect. His eyes don't even match the Uchiha standard. That alone places him outside the clan norm."
Another voice followed, calm and cruel. "If you hadn't insisted on marrying that woman, this wouldn't have happened."
A pause.
"Whatever that child is," the elder continued, "he carries an unacceptable risk to the bloodline."
Jōan's hands trembled with restrained anger.
He was not a warrior. Everyone in the room knew that.
Yet no one dismissed him lightly.
During the war, it was Jōan who had kept supply routes flowing when missions failed. After the war, when the Military Police budget barely sustained the clan, it was still his wealth that closed the gap. The Uchiha prided themselves on strength, but their stability leaned heavily on his coin.
"I don't care how you justify this among yourselves," Jōan said, his voice low and steady. "Kuroha is my son. Don't entertain thoughts you can't take responsibility for."
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
Several elders shifted their gaze toward the head seat.
Uchiha Fugaku, the clan head, finally spoke. His brow furrowed, his tone measured.
"Jōan. Your son does not possess the clan's defining eyes. This kind of mutation has no precedent. From a leadership standpoint, it is dangerous."
Behind Fugaku stood a young boy, barely five or six years old. His gaze was sharp, observant, quietly absorbing the tension in the room.
Uchiha Itachi.
"Dangerous?" Jōan laughed, sharp and humorless. He stared directly at Fugaku. "Are you asking me to kill my own child?"
Then his eyes shifted, briefly landing on the boy behind the clan head.
"If someone claimed your son was a threat," Jōan continued, "what would you do?"
Fugaku's expression tightened. He said nothing.
An elder slammed his staff against the floor. "That comparison is absurd. Itachi is a proven genius. Your son is an anomaly."
"He activated his eyes early," another added coldly. "A future pillar of the clan."
Jōan's patience snapped.
"Kuroha is my child," he said flatly. "Touch him, and I will respond accordingly."
He turned and left the shrine without waiting for permission.
The doors closed behind him, sealing in the voices that followed.
"That man is unreasonable."
"He's letting sentiment cloud judgment."
"The clan will never recognize that child."
"Even if Jōan insists on raising him, he doesn't belong to us."
Someone spoke up, hesitating. "Didn't Jōan recently fund the construction of the new training grounds? He even hired three jōnin to guide the younger generation. Are we going to bar our own children from entering?"
Silence.
No one wanted to answer that.
The training grounds were a valuable asset. No one was willing to sacrifice them over a child they assumed wouldn't last.
"Let the boy train if he survives," an elder muttered. "It changes nothing."
The Uchiha district, outer residential area.
Jōan's estate stood apart from the core compound, spacious but distant. Wealth could buy comfort, but it could not buy belonging.
Inside, a woman lay resting against the headboard, her features gentle but visibly tired. A newborn slept in her arms, calm and alert in a way infants shouldn't be.
His eyes followed movement around the room.
Each eye held two pupils.
Senju Akari looked up as Jōan entered.
"How did it go?" she asked quietly. "They didn't push you too far, did they?"
Jōan snorted. "Push me? They'd need more courage than that."
But when he looked at the child, his expression softened instantly.
Kuroha stared back at him.
So this is my father, the newborn thought. Bigger than expected. Louder too.
His thoughts paused.
Kuroha. Uchiha… wait.
Understanding hit him all at once.
Naruto.
Not a dream. Not a joke.
Reborn into the Uchiha. Born wrong. Born early enough to know what awaited them.
Massacre Night.
Akari's voice interrupted his thoughts. She adjusted the blanket gently.
"They were never kind to you," she said. "But this time… if they aim at our son, I won't stay silent."
Jōan laughed, a deep, careless sound. "Let them talk. I'm still Uchiha Jōan. They won't touch him."
He leaned in, trying to kiss Kuroha's cheek.
A small foot pressed firmly against his face.
Jōan froze, then burst out laughing. "Did you see that? Strong already."
He looked at the child, eyes shining with pride.
"They call him a defect," Jōan said. "I call him potential."
He grinned, unbothered by the whispers waiting outside.
"The Uchiha built their reputation on their eyes. My son just happens to have more to work with."