Sasuke slowed his steps.
There was still no sign of change.
Four years of meditation. Four years of discipline carved into muscle and breath. His mind was sharper than it had ever been. If he wished, he could sustain the three-tomoe Sharingan for long periods without strain. He could even push his perception far enough to intrude into the sealed depths within Naruto.
Those were feats his former self had only reached after years under Orochimaru's hand.
And yet, the Mangekyō remained silent.
That absence mattered.
Against Orochimaru, nothing was more decisive than the Mangekyō Sharingan.
Kakashi's assessment placed Sasuke at jōnin level. Sasuke agreed. With the Sharingan active, he could edge into the territory of elite jōnin. On paper, that put him close to where his former self had been three years later.
But paper meant nothing.
The Orochimaru of that future had been broken. His soul damaged. His body failing. Even then, the fight had nearly gone wrong.
The Orochimaru who existed now was whole.
Careless assumptions killed shinobi.
Some believed Orochimaru was weak to genjutsu. Sasuke never accepted that. Being defeated by Itachi proved only one thing: Itachi's illusions were overwhelming. Nothing more.
Even seasoned genjutsu specialists fell in moments before that gaze.
Sasuke trained genjutsu himself. With three tomoe, his growth was rapid. Still, when measured against true masters, he knew where the ceiling stood. His strengths lay elsewhere. His body moved faster. His ninjutsu matured more cleanly. He sharpened what answered him best, ensuring genjutsu never became a weakness, even if it would not be his blade.
Emotion.
That was the missing piece.
No amount of calm repetition could replace it.
The Mangekyō did not awaken in silence.
The Land of Waves would be his answer.
Zabuza was dangerous. A real killer. A blade aimed at the throat, not the ego. If the edge of death could not force the awakening, then waiting longer would be meaningless.
And time was scarce.
He would not waste it on trivial errands. Before that mission, he would take assignments that bled. He would sharpen instinct alongside technique.
If even that failed, then he would turn to the last option he had prepared.
Only the Mangekyō would give him the leverage to deny Orochimaru's mark.
Only with it could the next stage begin.
Lost in thought, Sasuke descended the academy stairs. As he passed the staff office, he glimpsed Mizuki speaking softly with his fiancée. Their closeness was obvious. Content. Grounded.
Mizuki noticed him and offered a mild smile. Sasuke returned it with a brief nod.
A small correction to the future, perhaps.
Outside, the village moved as usual.
Back at the clan grounds, Sasuke released a shadow clone to prepare lunch. The rest dispersed with him, slipping into routine without ceremony.
Training resumed.
Consistency over miracles. Pressure over comfort.
Strength was never given.
It was built.