Rain eventually faded.
Not suddenly — just less frequent, softer, until clear skies returned and the air carried that earthy scent of washed soil.
With the change in season, Kaen increased his training again.
The academy draw closer with each passing month, and instinct told him this window of unnoticed growth wouldn't last forever.
So he pushed harder.
Physical conditioning came first.
Grip training with stones.
Tree climbing without chakra support.
Balancing on narrow beams for hours.
One afternoon, while focusing on Armament Haki, something shifted.
It wasn't dramatic.
No flash. No visible aura.
Just density.
A heaviness around his fingers as he squeezed a small rock he'd been using for grip strength.
Crack.
The stone fractured cleanly in his hand.
Kaen stared at the pieces quietly.
Not excitement.
Assessment.
Mid-stage Armament… if he compared it loosely to what his previous-life memories suggested. Still not fully mature, but clearly usable.
And still hidden.
Always hidden.
He buried the broken pieces afterward — no evidence, no unnecessary curiosity from others.
Observation Haki evolved more subtly.
At first, it was proximity awareness — footsteps, breathing, emotional tension.
Now… range expanded.
Standing on their rooftop, Kaen could sense movement across much of the Uchiha district.
Clan patrol routes.
Children playing.
Shinobi returning from missions.
Even occasional wary glances from villagers passing near district borders.
It wasn't perfect vision.
More like emotional and physical echoes mapped inside his awareness.
Effortless now, where once it required intense concentration.
That improvement made survival easier.
And made politics clearer.
Distance between clan and village wasn't just physical. It pulsed constantly in people's intentions.
Autumn arrived quietly.
Leaves began falling.
That became his new training tool.
Kaen would sit beneath large trees near the neglected edge of the district, eyes closed, breathing steady.
Observation Haki extended outward.
Leaves dropped unpredictably — wind currents shifting, branches bending.
His task:
Sense each falling leaf.
Identify trajectory.
Catch it without opening his eyes.
At first he missed often.
Then less.
Soon, he caught most effortlessly.
Eventually, he could tell which leaf would fall seconds before it detached.
A strange exercise, maybe.
But effective.
Because real combat rarely announced itself loudly. It started with subtle changes — tension, motion, intent.
Exactly what Observation Haki specialized in.
Hitomi occasionally watched from a distance.
She never interrupted training.
Just observed quietly, sometimes bringing water or food afterward.
One day she asked:
"You're getting stronger… but you still look lonely when you train."
Kaen considered denying it.
But Observation Haki told him she wasn't accusing — just concerned.
"I train so we don't have to depend on anyone," he replied.
"That sounds lonely to me."
He didn't answer.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Physically, he was no longer the fragile orphan people remembered.
Lean muscle replaced earlier thinness.
Movements gained precision.
Even older kids instinctively gave him space now.
Yet socially, nothing changed.
The clan still offered minimal allowance.
Villagers still kept polite distance.
Political tension remained a quiet constant.
Kaen accepted it.
Attachment without trust was dangerous.
So he invested only where it mattered:
Hitomi.
His strength.
His future.
One evening, while sensing the district from their rooftop, Kaen noticed something interesting.
A few clan shinobi had begun paying subtle attention to him.
Not direct surveillance.
Just curiosity.
Probably noticing physical changes. Composure. Presence.
Nothing alarming yet.
But it confirmed what he'd suspected:
Time to be even more careful.
As sunset painted the sky orange, Kaen exhaled slowly.
Armament Haki progressing.
Observation Haki stable across the district.
Stamina improving daily.
Conqueror's Haki still silent.
System shop still locked.
But he wasn't impatient.
Because real strength wasn't just power.
It was timing.
And Kaen intended to choose his moment carefully.
Inside the house, Hitomi called again — familiar, warm.
He stepped down from the roof.
Training could wait until morning.
Some bonds were worth protecting as much as any secret ability.