Another Boring Uchiha Power Fantasy.

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[Obtained: Food Pills x100!]

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 x103, Wire Strings, Shark Skin, Giant Folding Fan, Bingo Book, Training Weights, Fūma Shuriken x100, Hero Water x10

The village didn’t have a name.

Most farming villages didn’t. It was just ”the village” to the people who lived in it, a cluster of wooden houses and barns set in a wide valley where the fields stretched golden to the treeline in every direction. Harvest season had painted the landscape in wheat and barley and the heavy green of vegetable plots ready to be pulled.

An old man was waiting for them at the village entrance. He leaned on a walking stick with both hands and watched them approach.

”Jinbei-san?” Mikoto said, bowing.

”That’s me.” His voice was thin but warm. ”You must be the shinobi. Thank you for coming. I know Konoha has its hands full with the war.”

”We’re happy to help. I’m Uchiha Mikoto, and this is my team. Nara Shikaku, Yamanaka Inoichi, Akimichi Chōza.”

Jinbei looked at each of them. His gaze lingered with gratitude.

”Young,” he said. ”But then, everyone is these days compared to me.” He turned and gestured for them to follow. ”Come. My son will show you around. Shuji!”

A young man appeared from behind one of the houses. Mid-twenties, lean, with his father’s jaw and a friendly smile. He jogged over and bowed to the team.

”Welcome! I’m Shuji. Dad’s been talking about you all week.” He straightened up and looked at them with open, earnest interest. ”So you’re the shinobi, huh? That’s great. Really great. We’ve been worried about the bandits for a while now.”

”How bad has it been?” Mikoto asked.

”They’ve raided twice in the last three months. Took grain, tools, some livestock. Nobody was killed, but they roughed up a few of the farmers pretty badly.” He shook his head. ”They know when the harvest comes in. That’s when we’re most vulnerable and when we have the most worth stealing.”

”We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.” Mikoto said.

”That means a lot. Really.” Shuji clapped his hands together. ”Let me show you around! You’ll want to know the layout. Where everything is, where the roads come in, the fields, the storage barns.”

He led them through the village happily. He pointed out the well, the community hall, the storage buildings where the harvest would be kept. He showed them the roads that led in and out of the valley, the treeline to the north where the hills rose, the fields to the east and south.

”So how long will you be staying with us?”

”At least a week,” Mikoto said. ”Through the main harvest period.”

”A whole week! That’s wonderful.” He glanced at the genin. ”And you three are, what, her comrades?”

”Something like that.” Shikaku rubbed the back of his head.

”Are you guys strong ninjas? I mean, you must be if Konoha sent you.”

”We’re strong as hell.” Inoichi boasted with little to no proof.

”That’s reassuring. That’s really reassuring.” He smiled. ”Is there anything you need? Places to sleep, food, supplies? We don’t have much but whatever we’ve got is yours.”

”Somewhere to sleep and access to your fields for training is all we need. We’ll handle our own food.” Mikoto told him.

”Nonsense! At least let us feed you. It’s the least we can do.”

Mikoto smiled. This man was nice. He was pleasant to be around.

Shuji waited until nightfall.

The shinobi were settled in a house near the village center that Jinbei had cleared for them. The genin were asleep. The girl, the one with the vest and the bandaged sword, was doing some kind of breathing exercise on the porch. Her eyes were closed.

He slipped out the back of his father’s house and took the north trail into the hills. The meeting point was a dead oak at the base of the ridge, half a kilometer from the village.

A man was waiting there. Big, scarred, with a short blade on his hip and a dangerous look about him.

”Well?” the man said.

Shuji’s hands were shaking. He put them in his pockets.

”My father hired shinobi.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. ”How many?”

”Four. Four kids. The girl’s the leader. She’s got a weird vest the other three don’t.”

”Kids?”

”I think they’re like eleven. The girl might be thirteen or fourteen.”

The man laughed. ”The old fool spent his savings on children.”

”They’re from Konoha. They have headbands. They might be dangerous.”

”They’re children.” The man spat. ”I’ll tell the boss. We’ll move the raid up. You just make sure those brats are somewhere else when we hit.”

”How am I supposed to do that?”

”Figure it out. That’s what we’re paying you for.” He turned to leave. ”You get them out of the village when we come, you’re in. Money, protection, a place with us. Everything we promised.”

Shuji watched him disappear into the trees. His hands were still shaking.

He walked back to the village in the dark and told himself it was worth it.

Inoichi found a new friend before breakfast on the first morning.

She was maybe seven or eight, with a round face and pigtails and a gap where her front tooth used to be. She appeared at his elbow while he was stretching and stared at him with eyes the size of rice bowls.

”Are you a ninja?” she said.

”Yes.”

”A REAL ninja?”

”Yes.”

”Can you walk on walls?”

”I can walk on trees.”

”Can you breathe fire?”

”No, but my sensei can.”

”Can you fly?”

”No.”

”Can you turn invisible?”

”Not exactly.”

”Can you read minds?”

Inoichi paused. ”Kind of.”

”REALLY?! What am I thinking right now?”

”I’d have to use a jutsu for that, and I’m not going to use it on you.”

”Awww.” She grabbed his hand. ”Follow me! I’ll show you the village! There’s a river and there’s cows and there’s a big tree where you can see the whole valley and Toguro-san has a forge where he makes swords!”

She pulled him before he could answer. Inoichi looked back at Mikoto, who waved him off with a smile. He let himself be dragged.

Mei talked without pausing for air. She told him about the village, about her mom Kazuha who made the best pickled vegetables in the valley, about her dad who was out in the fields from dawn to dark during harvest, about the time a deer ate their entire cabbage patch and her mom chased it with a broom.

”Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked, swinging his hand.

”I’m eleven.”

”So? My mom married my dad when she was fourteen.”

”That’s... different, I think.”

”Do you think I’m pretty?”

”I think you ask a lot of questions.”

”Everyone says that!”

She took him to the river, the big tree, the forge, the community hall, and the storage barns. She introduced him to six different villagers, all of whom apologized for her. By the end of the tour, Inoichi knew more about this village than most of its residents.

He rubbed Mei’s head.

”Don’t worry,” he said. ”We’ll keep you safe.”

She beamed up at him with her gap-toothed smile before asking him to show her his cool ninja skills.

Chōza found Toguro’s forge by following the sound.

The ringing of hammer on metal led him down a side path to a low stone building where smoke rose from a chimney and heat poured from the open doorway. The blacksmith was inside, a barrel-chested man in his fifties with forearms like tree trunks and a scary face that matched.

”Excuse me, Toguro-san?”

The hammering stopped. Toguro looked at him from under heavy brows.

”Whadda ya want?”

”I’m Chōza. A ninja. I was hoping you could take a look at my bo staff.” He held it out. ”It took some damage on our last mission and I wanted to make sure it’s still good.”

Toguro took the staff. He turned it in his hands, ran his thumb along the grain, tapped it against the anvil, and held it up to the light from the forge.

”Ash wood,” he said. ”Decent quality. There’s a stress fracture forming near the grip.” He pointed. ”Here. See it?”

Chōza leaned in. He couldn’t see it.

”You’ve been gripping too tight and swinging too hard. The wood can take power or speed, but not both at the same time without proper technique.” He set the staff on the workbench. ”I can reinforce it. Wrap the stress point with wire and treat the wood. Won’t be pretty, but it’ll hold.”

”How much?”

Toguro named a price. It was fair. Chōza paid without haggling.

”Come back tomorrow.” Toguro said. He’d already turned back to the forge.

Chōza came back the next day. And the day after. Toguro didn’t invite him for dinner on the first day. Or the second. On the third day, Chōza showed up at the forge with food that Mikoto had made.

”Mikoto-sensei’s cooking,” he said, holding it out. ”She’s the best cook I’ve ever met. Even better than my momma, but I wouldn’t ever tell her that.”

Toguro looked at the bowl. He looked at Chōza. He took the bowl and ate it standing at the forge. When he finished, he set the bowl down.

”Your sensei really can cook, boy.” he said.

”She’s amazing.”

”Sit down.” He pointed at a stool near the bellows. ”I’ll show you how to maintain that staff yourself so you don’t have to pay me next time.”

Chōza sat. He listened. By the end of the afternoon, he learned a bunch of new stuff. Toguro watched him work and occasionally said unkind words with no real heat behind them.

The rock nearly hit Shikaku on his forehead while he was napping.

He caught the rock before it made contact and turned slowly. A boy, maybe eight or nine, with messy hair and a dirty face and a glare, was standing in the road with another rock in his hand.

”Get out of our village!” the boy shouted. ”We don’t need you! We don’t need any stupid ninjas!”

Shikaku yawned. ”That was dangerous, kid.”

”GOOD!”

”Can you go away?”

”All ninjas should die!” He wound up for another throw. ”You killed my dad! You killed him!”

The rock sailed past Shikaku’s ear. He didn’t dodge. He just tilted his head.

”I didn’t kill your dad, kid.”

”You’re a ninja! Ninjas killed him! A ninja’s stupid jutsu hit him and he DIED!” His voice cracked. His arm dropped. His lip trembled for one second before he clamped his jaw shut and glared. ”I hate you. I hate all of you.”

He turned and ran.

Shikaku watched him go. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed.

”What a drag.”

The kid’s name was Genzo. Shikaku learned this from Jinbei, who told him the story over tea that evening. Genzo’s father had been a farmer who was traveling between towns when he got caught between two shinobi who were fighting on the road. A stray jutsu. Wrong place, wrong time. Genzo had been six.

”He’s angry. He has a right to be.” Jinbei said.

”He’s a pain in the butt.” Shikaku sighed.

”His mother does her best. But the boy has a hole in him that she can’t fill.”

Genzo showed up again the next day. And the day after. He didn’t throw rocks again, but he followed Shikaku at a distance, glaring, muttering things that Shikaku could hear perfectly well but pretended not to.

”Lazy ninja.”

”Stupid ponytail.”

”Bet you can’t even fight.”

Shikaku ignored him. Which made Genzo angrier, which made him follow closer, which made Shikaku ignore him harder. It became a routine for them.

Training continued.

Mornings in a field Jinbei had cleared for them near the edge of the village. Physical conditioning, sparring, chakra nature work. The genin were progressing visibly. Shikaku’s leaf now split halfway through with earth chakra. Inoichi could dampen his leaf completely. Chōza’s earth dusting was becoming a genuine crack.

Mikoto introduced the Seven Heavens Breathing Method on the third day.

She sat them in a circle and explained the theory.

”This is a taijutsu technique based on breathing. Not chakra manipulation, not tenketsu. Breathing. By gathering large amounts of oxygen and increasing your lung capacity, you can temporarily boost your physical abilities far beyond your normal limits.”

”Cool.” Shikaku said.

”This technique works through your lungs and blood. It takes a toll on your body at higher activations.”

”Activations?” Inoichi asked.

”The technique has seven stages. Each one increases your oxygen intake and physical output. The higher the activation, the greater the power, and the greater the strain on your body.”

”What does the first activation do?” Chōza asked.

”Dramatically increases your strength and speed. But we’re not going to activations yet. We’re going to start with the foundation: breathing control.”

She taught them the patterns. Deep inhales that filled not just the chest but the diaphragm, the back, the sides. Held breaths that forced the lungs to expand beyond their comfort. Controlled exhales that regulated oxygen flow. The exercises were simple. Doing them correctly was not.

”My head is spinning…” Chōza was wobbling after ten minutes.

”That’s the oxygen. Your body isn’t used to processing this much air at once. We’ll build up slowly.”

”How long did it take you to learn this?” Shikaku asked.

”I’m still learning it.” She stuck out her tongue, slightly embarrassed.

They practiced the breathing exercises every morning after conditioning. By the fifth day, all three could hold the foundational pattern for two minutes without getting dizzy. Mikoto was satisfied with that.

Her own training continued between teaching. Lightning sealless generation was closer. She could hold a burst for five seconds now without the Snake seal. The chakra still wanted to scatter, but the window of control was widening.

Shuji kept being helpful.

He brought the team food. He asked if they needed anything from the supply shed. He offered to watch the roads while they trained so they wouldn’t be caught off-guard. He told Mikoto about the village’s layout in more detail, which roads the bandits had used before, which barns held the most valuable harvest.

He asked questions curiously.

”So that breathing thing you’re teaching them, is that a ninja thing? It looked strange.”

”It’s a training method. Nothing dangerous.” Mikoto said.

”And that thing you carry. Is it heavy? It looks heavy.”

”It used to be heavy.”

”You must be really strong for your age. You said you’re a chunin?”

”That’s right.”

”Wow. That’s impressive.” He smiled warmly. ”We’re lucky to have you.”

Mikoto smiled back. ”We’re glad to help.”

Shuji met the scout again on the fifth night.

”They train every morning in the east field,” he said. His voice was low and flat, the friendliness stripped away like paint. ”The girl is dangerous. She carries some kind of big weapon. The kids... I’m not sure but they shouldn’t be underestimated either.”

”The boss wants to move in two days,” the scout said. ”Harvest is almost in. We hit the storage barns, take what we can, burn what we can’t.”

”Two days.” Shuji swallowed. ”I’ll get them out of the village.”

”How?”

”I’ll tell them I found where you’re hiding. Lead them to the old mining tunnels in the north hills. If the entrance is rigged, they go in to investigate, and...”

The scout studied him for a moment. Then he grinned.

”We’ll handle it. The boys will have that cave wired with traps by tomorrow night. Enough to collapse the whole thing. You just get them there.”

”And after?”

”After, you’re one of us. Money, a spot, protection. Everything the boss promised. You just make sure those shinobi are in that cave when we hit the village.”

Shuji nodded.

The scout disappeared into the trees.

Shuji walked back to the village. The sky was clear for once. Stars everywhere. The harvest fields glowed silver in the moonlight and somewhere in one of the houses, his father was sleeping, trusting that the shinobi his savings had paid for would keep them safe.

Shuji didn’t look at his father’s house.

On the sixth morning, Shuji came running to the team’s training field.

”Mikoto-san! Mikoto-san!” He was out of breath, his face flushed with what looked like excitement and fear in equal measure. ”I found them! I found where the bandits are hiding!”

Mikoto stopped mid-form. The genin looked up from their breathing exercises.

”What do you mean?” she asked.

”I was gathering herbs around the north trails this morning. And I found tracks. Fresh ones. They lead up into the hills toward the old mining caves.” He pointed north, toward the ridge that rose above the valley. ”I followed them to the entrance. There’s a cave, and I could see supplies inside. Crates, bedrolls. It’s them. It’s definitely them.”

Mikoto looked at him. His breathing was fast. His eyes were wide. His hands were shaking.

Of course they were shaking. He was a farmer who’d just stumbled onto a bandit camp alone.

She didn’t hesitate.

”Show us.”

They followed Shuji north. Through the fields, past the treeline, up the slope toward the ridge. The trail was rough but passable, a narrow track that wound between boulders and scrub brush. Shuji led them quickly, glancing back over his shoulder every few minutes.

”It’s just up ahead,” he said. ”Through that gap in the rocks.”

The cave entrance was a dark mouth in the hillside, wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Shuji stopped at the entrance and pointed inside.

”In there. I could see the supplies from here but I didn’t go in. I was too scared.”

”You did the right thing,” Mikoto said. ”Stay here. We’ll check it out.”

”Stay by the mouth,” Mikoto told the genin. ”Nobody wanders. If anything moves, you call me and back out into the light.”

She went in first. The cave was dark and cool. The air smelled like damp stone and something else, something chemical. She took three steps in. Five steps with the kids still near the entrance. The cave opened into a wider chamber.

There were crates inside. Bedrolls. The remains of a cook fire. It looked like a hideout.

But something felt wrong.

She looked up.

Explosive tags. Dozens of them. Plastered to the ceiling, the walls, the support beams. Paper rectangles covered in seal script, each one connected to the next by a thin wire that ran along the rock face.

The wire ran to a trip mechanism at the entrance. Where her genin were standing.

”OUT!” she screamed. ”OUT NOW!”

The tags ignited.

The first explosion blew the support beam nearest the entrance, right over their heads. Rock erupted inward. The boys moved, three weeks of drilled reflexes throwing them toward daylight, but the mountain was faster, and Mikoto was faster than the mountain. She crossed the chamber in one Body Flicker, caught Shikaku and Inoichi by their collars mid-stride, and hurled all three of them through the failing entrance as the ceiling came down. Chōza expanded as he rolled clear, curling his body into a shield over the other two as she dove out through the dust behind them.

Silence. Then coughing.

Mikoto was on her knees. Dust in her eyes, in her lungs, in her hair. She blinked until her vision cleared and counted bodies. Shikaku, flat on his back, coughing. Inoichi, on his hands and knees, shaking. Chōza, shrinking down with bloody scrapes on his back from debris.

She looked at the collapsed cave. Then she looked at the empty trail where Shuji had been standing.

He’d lied. Everything. The tracks, the discovery, the fear on his face. All of it. And she had believed every word because it never occurred to her, not once, that someone standing in front of her with a smile could be lying through their teeth.

She’d been deceived. For the first time in her life, someone had looked her in the eyes and lied and she’d walked right into it and brought her genin with her.

”Sensei?” Shikaku coughed. ”What just happened…?”

Mikoto stood up. She looked south, toward the village, toward the golden fields and the wooden houses and the people she was supposed to be protecting.

”It’s a trap! Shuji is working with the bandits. He led us here to get us out of the village!” Mikoto’s fists were clenched as anger surged through her body.

The color drained from Inoichi’s face. ”Mei.”

”The village is undefended. We gotta get going.” Shikaku said. He was already on his feet.

Mikoto’s teeth ground together. The guilt could come later. The blame could come later. Right now, people were going to die if they didn’t move.

”Run as fast as you can. Don’t stop for anything.”

They started running.