---
At the entrance, two men stepped forward and blocked Yuta's path, standing firmly in front of him.
"Can you tell us the purpose of your visit?" one of them asked. He wore a police uniform, his posture stiff and professional.
"I came to see my uncle," Yuta replied flatly, offering no respect to the men before him.
The two officers clenched their jaws and tightened their fists, but neither dared to touch him. His background was far from ordinary.
His grandfather was a clan elder. His father was a prodigy who possessed the three-tomoe Sharingan and served as a captain in the Uchiha Police Force. More importantly, his uncle also held the three-tomoe Sharingan and commanded their unit. Touching Yuta would bring consequences they could not afford.
"What is going on here?"
A man stepped out of the store, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto Yuta.
"Sir, it's your cousin," one of the officers said quickly. "We asked about his visit, but he refused to cooperate."
Hakeru bent down slightly until he was at Yuta's eye level.
"I know you are the one who stole those items," Hakeru said calmly. "And I swear this. If even a single bag is missing, I will personally arrest myself."
Yuta did not flinch. He knew his uncle well. When Hakeru made a promise, he followed through. There was no point escalating the situation.
"I came to see my uncle, and now I'm being accused of stealing," Yuta replied. His hands were clasped behind his back, copying the posture Hakeru used when training him. "You could end up in jail for accusing me without evidence, brother."
Hakeru paused, then straightened.
"Don't worry. I will report this to your father. We will settle it at home."
Yuta stepped forward, stopping directly in front of him.
"You are blocking my way, officer," he said coldly. "Tell your dogs to step aside."
Both officers flinched, their muscles twitching at the insult. Even Hakeru felt a faint sense of pride at how composed Yuta became when he was serious.
"Move out," Hakeru ordered.
Yuta and his friends walked past the entrance and deeper inside the complex. After several turns, they finally reached their destination.
"Hello, Uncle Yorishi," Yuta called out.
The man striking hot metal paused and turned around. When he recognized Yuta, his expression darkened.
"Yuta," he said coldly. "Get out."
He lifted his hammer and pointed toward the exit.
"Huh? You're really believing those people?" Yuta said. He stepped forward and grabbed his uncle's leg. "Believe me. I'm the victim here."
"Yuta, I don't want anything stolen in my workshop," Yorishi replied firmly. "If something goes missing, I will be the one who pays for it."
Yorishi was Yuta's mother's younger brother. He had never been gifted in combat. However, after his sister died shortly after Yuta's birth, he awakened his Sharingan. It came late, in his twenties, and since he was not a fighter, he chose a different path.
He used his Sharingan to forge weapons for the clan.
That, too, was service.
Yuta shared a closer bond with Yorishi than with Hakeru.
"Uncle Yorishi," Yuta said, his voice softening. "I have an affinity for all elements, but I chose lightning, fire, and water."
Yorishi's expression shifted.
"That's impressive," he said. "Your mother was lightning-based as well."
"Wait here."
Yorishi moved to the side of the workshop and returned with a shinransan.
"Look."
He drew the blade from its scabbard. The metal hummed faintly with restrained power.
"Give it to me," Yuta demanded. He preferred katanas over chūjō blades, but the sharpness and resonance told him everything.
It was a lightning blade.
"No," Yorishi refused, sliding the blade back into its scabbard.
"Why?" Yuta snapped, irritation rising. "If you weren't going to give it to me, why show it at all?"
That blade had once belonged to his mother.
Yorishi reached out and patted Yuta's head, but Yuta brushed his hand away.
"Yuta, can't you see it?" Yorishi said calmly. "The blade is nearly as tall as you. How do you plan to wield it?"
That was only part of the truth. Yorishi did not want Yuta anywhere near the battlefield. He already knew Yuta would be assigned to deliver ammunition to the front lines.
"Fine," Yuta said after a pause. His hands were still small, barely the size of an apple.
After a few hours spent with his uncle, Yorishi placed the blade in front of Yuta.
"If you fall in battle, come back and take it," he said. "And I'll make small tantō for your friends as well."
After leaving the shop, Yuta and his group were stopped and searched as usual. Nothing was found.
This time, Yuta had touched nothing.
"Boss, let's go listen to that old man's stories," Shota said eagerly.
"He's right," Jun added. "We need to know more about Uchiha history. He said he fought in the First Shinobi War. We're going to be sent to war whether we like it or not."
Yuta had no interest in that old man or Uchiha history.
To him, it was all nonsense.
He had listened once and discovered the man was a Madara fanatic and a Hawk supporter. All they talked about was becoming Hokage, as if it were their birthright.
For a while, Yuta even believed Kishimoto had been wrong about how the Uchiha were treated.
That changed when his grandfather explained everything.
Yuta realized he had fallen straight into those old men's plans.
Even with his knowledge of the story, he had still been manipulated.
That truth angered him and taught him caution. He became wary of everyone, even his own family.
Mikoto would give birth to that madman, and his grandfather spoke in riddles as if Yuta were some chosen figure.
That alone was enough to keep him on guard.
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