Masaki gave a small smile. “Isn’t this how it’s meant to be?” The two of them left the academy together, walking silently down the path home, the soft glow of the setting sun casting long shadows behind them.

“What do you think of our clan, Shisui?” Masaki asked as they walked.

“We’re a proud part of Konoha,” Shisui replied confidently.

“Is that so? I’ll see you later,” Masaki said, leaving him with only a quiet nod. As the cold of winter settled in and the days grew shorter, the weight of his choice lingered in his mind. After an early dinner, Masaki packed his shinobi tools and headed to the familiar training grounds. He was waiting for Shisui, practicing his shuriken throws against a large tree.

Soon, Shisui appeared, emerging from the shadows of the forest. “Didn’t expect you to get here so early.” Masaki smiled, letting the last shuriken fly and stretching his hand. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Shisui nodded, his own eyes flashing with excitement. “That’s exactly what I came for.”

The two short knives clashed, sparks flying between them as Masaki and Shisui locked eyes, their gazes intense. A smirk spread across Masaki’s face, though it took effort to keep his grip steady while grinning.

Stepping back, Masaki leveled his knife at Shisui and said, “That’s all you’ve got, Shisui?”

“Watch out, Masaki!” Shisui darted forward, his knife thrusting toward Masaki with the precision of a spear.

Masaki tightened his grip, staying focused on Shisui’s every movement, knowing that his friend might have a trick or two up his sleeve. As they neared each other, Shisui’s eyes narrowed, and Masaki sensed a shift.

In a flash, Shisui vanished. “He’s behind me!” Masaki thought, instinctively swinging his blade in a wide arc behind him.

A sharp clang echoed as Shisui’s knife met Masaki’s, blocking the ambush. “Body Flicker, huh?” Masaki chuckled, impressed by Shisui’s use of such a technique at his age.

“Nice reflexes, Masaki,” Shisui acknowledged, though he could only use the Body Flicker sparingly due to his limited chakra.

After a few more exchanges, Masaki shook off the numbness in his wrist from the previous block, feeling a surge of excitement build. He wasn’t done yet.

“Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!” Setting his knife aside, Masaki quickly formed a sequence of seals, then unleashed a fireball the size of a boulder, its searing heat intensifying the already charged atmosphere.

The fireball rocketed toward Shisui, forcing him to perform a quick substitution to dodge the blast. As smoke billowed from a scorched tree branch, Shisui reappeared nearby, looking slightly alarmed.

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“You’ve picked up Fire release?” Shisui’s voice held a note of surprise.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, Shisui.” Masaki grinned.

Shisui returned the smile. “Then it’s time I showed you what I’ve got!” He formed a hand seal, and a shadow clone popped into existence beside him. The two Shisuis nodded at each other before charging at Masaki.

Kunai in hand, Masaki took his stance. The sound of steel clashing reverbrated through the forest as Masaki faced off against both Shisuis. The added pressure of the clone’s attacks began to put Masaki on the defensive. He parried one blow, then another, his knife moving in quick, practiced arcs, though he couldn’t avoid all the strikes. One of Shisui’s blades skimmed his side, slicing through his shirt.

Breathing heavily, Masaki took a step back. “Not bad, Shisui, but if this is all you’ve got, I’m going to win.”

And then, with a glint of resolve, Masaki activated his Sharingan. His crimson eyes spun with the double tomoe, catching Shisui off guard.

“A double tomoe already?” Shisui muttered, surprised. “At your age?”

“Now, what will you do, Shisui?” Masaki asked, his gaze firmly set on both Shisuis.

Shisui’s surprise quickly turned to determination. “Don’t be so confident yet, Masaki!” Both Shisuis rushed at him once more, but Masaki’s enhanced perception allowed him to see through their movements. Anticipating each strike, he blocked the attacks with precision, even kicking away the clone, which disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The real Shisui lunged forward, but Masaki sidestepped, catching Shisui’s blade with his own. The two stood locked in place, each staring the other down.

“Still feeling confident?” Masaki teased, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t count me out yet!” Shisui said, though he knew his options were limited. Using the Body Flicker again would drain his remaining chakra. Smiling wryly, he acknowledged the gap between them.

Before Masaki could react, Shisui made one final attempt.

“Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!” Masaki’s hands blurred through the seals again, launching another fireball at Shisui. Knowing he was at his limit, Shisui dashed to the side, narrowly evading the fireball’s scorching path. He could feel its heat as it singed the ground where he’d just been standing.

The clash with Shisui left Masaki acutely aware of his own limitations. While he had managed to hold his own, his fighting techniques lacked depth. Without Sharingan, he wouldn’t have been able to gain the slight edge he did, barely scraping a win against Shisui’s superior skills.

The upcoming New Year was just days away, and Konoha was blanketed with thick, falling snow—snowflakes as large as goose feathers danced down from the sky. Konoha hadn’t seen such snowfall in years, and for Masaki, it was a rare and beautiful sight. Despite the snow piling up, the streets of Konoha were alive with bustling vendors and cheerful villagers eagerly preparing for the festivities.

Masaki wandered through the snow-covered streets, savoring the rare moment of peace. As he walked, a child’s innocent voice caught his attention. "Father, look! There are mask sellers over there!"

Masaki glanced toward the voice and felt a spark of recognition. Standing close by was Fugaku Uchiha, the head of the Uchiha clan, and beside him was a young boy, unmistakably his son, Itachi. Itachi couldn’t have been more than three year old—still new to the world yet already exuding a calm presence.

Masaki slowed his pace, watching with interest as Fugaku picked up a mask and gently offered it to his son. "If you like it, Itachi, we can bring one home," Fugaku said with a rare smile, his voice warm with affection. Itachi nodded and approached the vendor, selecting a mask with quiet focus.

Masaki felt Fugaku’s gaze land on him, sharp and assessing. Fugaku’s eyes lingered on the Uchiha crest on Masaki’s clothes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared bloodline. Feeling the weight of the clan head’s attention, Masaki lowered his head respectfully before turning to leave, granting them their moment.