Another Boring Uchiha Power Fantasy.

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[Obtained: Seven Heavens Breathing Method!]

Name: Mikoto Uchiha

Age: 13

Rank: Chunin

Affinity: Lightning Affinity, Fire Affinity, Yin Affinity, Water Affinity

Unique: Immense Chakra Reserves, Sharingan (Dormant), Advanced Growth Rate

Skills: Fire Style Mastery, Water Style Mastery, Clone Jutsu, Substitution Jutsu, Transformation Jutsu, Shurikenjutsu, Basic Taijutsu, Basic Genjutsu, Body Flicker, Perfect Chakra Control, Uchiha Style: Kenjutsu, Stealth, Survival Knowledge, Cooking, Medical Ninjutsu (Mystical Palm), Fūinjutsu Affinity, Pedagogy Mastery, Space-Time Ninjutsu Affinity, Seven Heavens Breathing Method

Equipment: Kunai, Shuriken, Smoke Bomb, Explosive Tags, Poison Gas Bomb, Flash Bomb, Gas/Sleep Bomb, Food Pills, Wire Strings, Shark Skin, Giant Folding Fan, Bingo Book, Training Weights, Fūma Shuriken x100, Hero Water x10

Harada was not happy to see them.

He was a stocky man in his forties with a sun-weathered face, calloused hands, and the permanent scowl of someone not happy about life. His wagon was a heavy wooden cart loaded with crates of trade goods, pulled by a mule that looked almost as irritated as its owner. He was leaning against the wagon at the south gate with his arms crossed, and when Team Mikoto walked up, he scowled.

”This is my escort?” he said.

”Good morning, Harada-san. I’m Uchiha Mikoto, chunin. These are my genin: Nara Shikaku, Yamanaka Inoichi, and Akimichi Chōza. We’ll be escorting you to your destination.”

Harada looked at Mikoto. He looked at the vest. He looked at the three eleven-year-olds standing behind her. He looked back at Mikoto.

”You’re a bunch of brats.”

”We’re shinobi.” Shikaku corrected him.

”You’re wet-eared brats.”

”And you’re a piec-.”

Mikoto grabbed the back of Shikaku’s head and pushed it down into a bow alongside her own. Shikaku made a noise of protest that she ignored.

”I apologize for my student’s mouth, Harada-san. We’ll do our best. Konoha never lets down our employers. If you can’t trust in me, then trust the adult who granted me this vest who believed I was responsible enough to be your protector.”

Harada stared at them. Two children bowing, one of them held in place by force. Behind them, a round boy who looked like he’d be more at home at a buffet than a battlefield, and a blond boy who was too pretty to be dangerous.

”I’m going to request my money back if there’s even one thing missing from my cart.” Harada said.

Mikoto straightened up and smiled. ”I’ll reimburse you myself if anything goes wrong.”

Harada laughed obnoxiously. ”I’ll hold you to that, little miss.”

”Please do.” She let go of Shikaku’s head. ”Shall we?”

The road south was packed earth that turned to dirt that turned to mud and back to dirt again depending on the elevation. The wagon creaked. The mule plodded. Harada sat on the driver’s bench and stared ahead in grumpy silence.

Mikoto walked at the front, storing her weights into a scroll. Weights were for training, not for risking the lives of her genin or employer. Shikaku walked on the left side of the wagon. Inoichi walked on the right. Chōza walked at the rear, which he had volunteered for because it let him snack without anyone seeing.

Mikoto saw him. She let it go.

An hour in, the genin started talking. Quietly at first, then louder as the road stretched on and nothing happened.

”I hope we run into some bandits.” Chōza said from the back. He cracked his knuckles. ”I’ve been waiting to use my staffwork on something that isn’t Mikoto-sensei.”

”Same. Three weeks of getting beaten up by sensei every morning. I want to see if the training is even working.” Inoichi said.

”It did. I can feel it. I think we could handle a few bandits no problem.” Chōza said.

”A few? We could handle a dozen.”

From the driver’s bench, Harada’s shoulders tightened. His grip on the reins shifted.

Mikoto glanced back.

”Inoichi. Chōza.”

They looked at her.

”Think about how your client feels. He’s been attacked on this road before. He hired us because he’s afraid it’ll happen again. Talking about how excited you are to fight the people he’s scared of isn’t going to make him feel safe.”

The words landed. Inoichi’s face flushed. Chōza awkwardly laughed.

”Sorry, Harada-san.” Inoichi said, bowing his head toward the wagon.

”Yeah, sorry.” Chōza added, rubbing the back of his neck.

Harada grunted without turning around. But his shoulders loosened a fraction.

Shikaku, who had been walking in silence with his hands in his pockets, spoke without looking at anyone.

”Personally, I’m hoping we don’t run into anyone at all.”

Harada turned his head just enough to glance at the Nara boy.

”First sensible thing any of you boys have said.” he muttered.

They made camp that evening in a clearing off the main road. Mikoto had the genin set up the tents while she built the cook fire and started preparing dinner from the rations they’d brought.

”Tonight is also a lesson. On missions like this, we take turns keeping watch. One person stays awake while the rest sleep, watching for threats, listening for movement. Every few hours, you rotate.” she said while the rice cooked.

”How long is a shift?” Inoichi asked.

”Three hours. Four shifts through the night. Tonight, I’ll take the first watch with Shikaku so he can learn the rhythm. Tomorrow night, Inoichi. The night after, Chōza. By the fourth night, one of you takes a full shift on your own.”

”What do we do during watch?” Chōza asked.

”Stay awake. Stay alert. Walk the perimeter every thirty minutes. Listen for anything that doesn’t belong. If you hear something, wake me first before investigating.”

She served them dinner. The rations were basic, rice and dried meat and a handful of vegetables, but Mikoto turned them into something that had Chōza’s eyes watering with gratitude and even got Harada to eat a second portion, though he didn’t comment on it.

After dinner, the genin pulled out their leaves.

Shikaku channeled earth-natured chakra into his. The hairline crack he’d achieved at the end of last week had deepened. He could now split the leaf a third of the way through with sustained effort.

Inoichi held his leaf between his palms and concentrated. The paper was damp. Not soaked, but damp, moisture gathering at the center and spreading outward in a slow creep. He’d broken through the initial barrier two days ago and was now working on sustaining it.

Chōza’s leaf had the faintest dusting of what looked like dry powder along one edge. Earth nature, barely there, but present. He frowned at it every night and kept trying.

Mikoto sat with them and worked on her lightning. Sealless generation. The chakra wanted to jump, to discharge, to go everywhere at once. Holding it, shaping it, forcing it through her arm without the Snake seal was like trying to hold water in an open fist. She managed a three-second burst before it scattered.

She’d get it.

The fire burned low. The genin went to sleep. Mikoto and Shikaku took the first watch.

They walked the perimeter of the camp together in silence. The forest was dark. Insects chirped. The mule snored.

”Sensei.” Shikaku said after the second circuit.

”Hmm?”

”What do you actually listen for?”

”Anything that breaks the pattern. The forest has a rhythm at night. Insects, wind, animals moving. If it goes quiet, something scared them. If you hear footsteps that don’t match an animal’s, someone’s there. If you smell smoke when there shouldn’t be a fire, something’s wrong.”

He nodded. He listened. After a while he said, ”There’s an owl about fifty meters northwest.”

”Good ears.”

”It’s been calling every three minutes.”

”That’s probably its territory call. It’ll stop if something disturbs it. If it stops, wake me.”

“Alright.”

The second day was uneventful. The road wound east through lowland forest, the trees growing taller and the underbrush thicker. Harada loosened up enough to make conversation, though ”conversation” for Harada mostly meant complaining.

”Roads used to be safe. Before the war. You could run a wagon from Fire Country to River Country and back without seeing anything worse than a deer in the road.” he said.

”How long have you been a merchant?” Inoichi asked.

”Twenty-three years. My father was a merchant. His father was a merchant. We’ve been running this route since before your ninja villages even existed.” He snapped the reins while boasting. ”Now I need children with shiny headbands to keep me from getting robbed.”

”The war makes everything harder.” Mikoto nodded in agreement.

”The war makes everything expensive. Safety used to be free.” Harada corrected her.

That night, Mikoto took second watch with Inoichi. She taught him the same perimeter walk, the same listening pattern. Inoichi was quieter on watch than Shikaku. He didn’t ask questions. He listened closely.

”You’re a sensor type, Inoichi.” Mikoto said halfway through the shift.

He looked at her. ”Am I?”

”You feel things others don’t with your chakra.”

He thought about that for a long time.

”My father is a sensor. He works in the Intelligence Division.” he said.

”Then it probably runs in your family.”

Day three.

The road narrowed. The forest pressed in from both sides, branches arching overhead to form a tunnel of green and grey. Visibility dropped. The wagon slowed.

Mikoto heard the difference immediately.

The insects had gone quiet. No bird calls.

She held up a fist. The genin stopped. Harada pulled the reins.

”What is it?” he whispered.

”Stay on the wagon, please.” Mikoto said. She moved to stand beside the driver’s bench, one hand resting on Shark Skin’s handle.

The genin formed up. Shikaku on the left, Inoichi on the right, Chōza at the rear. The formation they’d drilled a hundred times. Their hands were on their weapons. Their eyes were scanning the treeline.

The bandits came from both sides.

They burst from the undergrowth in a ragged line, a dozen men with mismatched weapons. Clubs, rusted swords, a handful of knives. No armor. No formation. They were thin and desperate and loud, shouting as they charged, trying to overwhelm with noise and numbers.

”Go.” Mikoto said.

The trio moved.

Shikaku met the first bandit on the left side. The man swung a club at his head. Shikaku ducked under it, stepped inside the arc, and drove his elbow into the man’s gut. The bandit doubled over. Shikaku smashed down on the back of the man’s head with his fist, knocking him out.

The second bandit came at him with a knife. Shikaku threw a kunai at his feet, forcing him to jump, and used the half-second of air time to close the distance and put a fist into the man’s jaw. The bandit’s head spun and he went down.

Inoichi took the right side. Two bandits rushed him at once. He leapt up with a rising knee into the first one’s jaw. The first bandit collapsed. The second tried to swing a rusty sword. Inoichi caught the man’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the side of the wagon. He slid to the ground.

Chōza handled the rear. Three bandits came at the wagon from behind. Chōza grinned. He grabbed his bo staff and met them head-on.

The first swing caught the lead bandit across the ribs. The crack was audible. The man flew sideways and hit a tree. The second bandit skidded to a stop, eyes wide, suddenly reconsidering his life choices. Chōza didn’t give him time to finish the thought. He closed the distance in two steps and brought the staff down on the man’s shoulder. The bandit crumpled into the dirt.

The third one ran. Chōza threw a kunai that went into the man’s back. He screamed as he fell, trying to crawl away. Chōza leaped over and smashed down on top of his back with his bottom as he cried in pain.

On the left flank, Shikaku had put three more down. Kunai and taijutsu, fast and easy. One of them had gotten a hand on his collar before Shikaku headbutted him in the nose and dropped him with a punch to the temple.

Inoichi finished his side with a spinning kick that caught the last standing bandit in the chest and sent him skidding across the road. The man tried to get up. Inoichi appeared above him and pressed a kunai to his throat. The man stopped trying.

Twelve bandits. All down. The whole thing had lasted less than forty seconds.

The three genin stood in the road, breathing hard, fists clenched, eyes bright. They looked at each other. Then they looked at Mikoto, who was leaning against the wagon with her arms folded, standing next to a wide-eyed Harada.

The feeling hit all three of them at the same time. The training worked. The hours of conditioning, the sparring sessions where Mikoto beat them senseless, the push-ups and sit-ups and tree walking and water walking and sparring until their bodies moved on their own. It worked. They could feel it in their bones.

Every morning sparring against Mikoto, they never felt like they were improving. She was so far beyond them that progress felt invisible. But now, facing people who weren’t her, people who were supposed to be dangerous, the gap between where they’d started and where they were now was staggering.

They were grinning. All three of them.

Mikoto smiled at them. Then she pushed off the wagon and walked toward the downed bandits. 

”Good work. Stay with Harada-san, please.” she said as she passed them.

She moved among the fallen. Some were unconscious. Some were groaning, curled up, clutching broken ribs or dislocated joints. She checked each one, nudging them with her foot, confirming none of them were getting up. She then dragged them into a line at the road’s edge. 

She counted twelve. All accounted for.

She knelt beside the first one. She looked at his face. He was maybe thirty, thin, unshaven, with the hollow cheeks of a man who hadn’t eaten properly in a long time. His clothes were patched. His shoes had holes in them.

She weaved through hand signs and placed all twelve bandits under a genjutsu. The genjutsu was gentle. She showed them the thing they wanted most. The image pulled from the deepest part of themselves.

Then she drew Shark Skin.

Twelve heads came off in one swing.

The heads rolled across the ground.

Behind her, at the wagon, Inoichi and Chōza screamed.

”MIKOTO-SENSEI?!”

Shikaku didn’t scream. His hand clamped over his mouth and his face went white and he turned away, his shoulders heaving.

Harada was standing on the wagon bench. ”YES! That’s those bastards! That’s the ones who hit me last month! I recognize that one, the big one! Good riddance! A bunch of no-good crooks preying on innocent hard-working folk deserve to die! Every last one of ’em!”

Mikoto placed Shark Skin back on her back with a melancholy look on her face. Her hands weren’t shaking like they would have several weeks ago. There was blood on the blade but not on her.

She turned and walked back to the wagon.

Her genin were in various states of unease. Inoichi was on his hands and knees in the bushes, vomiting. The sound was awful. Shikaku was standing rigid, his fist pressed against his mouth, his eyes fixed on nothing. Chōza was still on his feet but barely, his face grey-green, his chest heaving with dry retches that produced nothing but bile-flavored air.

Mikoto stopped in front of them. The smile on her face was sad. She knew that she scared them but also knew it was necessary.

”I’m sorry. This is one of the most important parts of being a shinobi that I have to teach you. Being able to kill.” she said.

None of them answered. Inoichi heaved again.

”Those men were bandits. They attacked merchants, stole from people, and would have kept doing it until someone stopped them permanently. The client we’re protecting has been hit before. If we let them go, they come back. They always come back.”

She looked at each of them.

”I did it this time. I won’t always be able to. Next time, this responsibility will fall on you. And you’ll have to carry it, forever.”

Shikaku’s voice came out raw. ”You put them in a genjutsu first.”

”Yes.”

”I saw their faces. They were... smiling.”

”I showed them something peaceful. So the last thing they felt wasn’t fear.” She paused. ”That part is my choice. Not every shinobi does that. But I think it matters.”

Inoichi wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He was shaking but his eyes were focused.

”Did it have to be all of them?” he asked.

”They knew the route. They know what the wagon carries. If even one of them goes back to their group and tells them a wagon with four child escorts is an easy target, Harada gets hit again on his next trip. And next time, he might not have anyone to protect him.”

”Hey, you’re ninjas, ain’t ya? Weren’t you three so excited to kick some bandit butt? Why does the little girl have the biggest balls out of the three of ya?” Harada’s voice was merry as he laughed.

Mikoto looked at him.

Just looked.

The laugh died in his throat. He swallowed.

”W-Whatever... Let’s get a move on already.” He sat down on the bench and picked up the reins. His hands were shaking slightly.

Mikoto turned back to her genin.

”Take a minute. Drink some water. Then we move.”

They took the minute. Chōza drank half his canteen. Inoichi rinsed his mouth and spat. Shikaku stood with his back to the road and his hands in his pockets and said nothing.

They moved.

The rest of day three was quiet. Nobody talked much. The wagon creaked. The mule plodded. The forest thinned as the road climbed toward the market town.

That night, Chōza took the first solo watch. Mikoto offered to stay up with him. He shook his head.

”I can do it, sensei.”

She lay down. She fell asleep still feeling a little bad about what she had to teach them. But, it was better they got used to it now, rather than being caught off-guard in the middle of battle. Shaking, vomiting, and paralyzed. They’d be dead in seconds if they did that during a battle.