When Fenghuo stepped onto the street, he immediately noticed the distinctive Uchiha fan emblazoned on nearly every person's back. The residents carried themselves with pride—backs straight, chins raised, eyes filled with quiet arrogance. It felt like any one of them could unleash an A-rank Fire Release at the drop of a hat and reduce the entire block to cinders.
"There he is! That disgrace of the Uchiha—Uchiha Fenghuo!"
"Humiliated our whole clan. What a joke."
"Total embarrassment. How dare he show his face?"
Several children, no older than six or seven, circled around him, sneering and pointing with exaggerated contempt plastered across their faces.
Standing beside him, Uchiha Obito gave a half-shrug and shot him a sideways glance. "Told you they'd be like this."
"Hey, isn't that Obito too? Figures. Idiots attract each other. Both are a stain on the Uchiha name."
"Must be why they're such good pals."
The insults quickly redirected toward Obito, and his reaction was instant.
"Who the hell are you calling an idiot?!" he shouted, fists clenched. "I'm gonna be Hokage one day!"
The other kids burst out laughing.
"Yeah right! You can't even activate your Sharingan. You'll be a genin forever!"
"You're hopeless!"
"I'm not hopeless! I'll awaken my Sharingan! Just you wait!" Obito yelled, but his voice was drowned out by mocking laughter.
Eventually, the kids lost interest and scattered, puffed up as if they'd just scored a great victory.
Obito growled in frustration, cheeks puffed and arms flailing. "Hey, Fenghuo, why didn't you say anything back?!"
Fenghuo simply shrugged. "Not worth the energy. They're just brats."
Technically, he was only six—but mentally, he was a man in his twenties. Bickering with kids wasn't just beneath him; it was exhausting.
"You said something about ramen?"
Obito huffed but perked up. "Right! I promised to treat you!"
Still fuming, he led the way, muttering grand declarations about becoming Hokage with every step.
Fenghuo trailed behind, watching the Uchiha district as they walked. Despite being in the heart of the clan, the atmosphere was cold. Residents passed each other with dismissive nods at best—aloof, untouchable, and detached. It was a pride that radiated from within, the kind that alienated everyone else.
No wonder Konoha never fully trusted the Uchiha… Their pride runs to the marrow. Only someone like Senju Hashirama could accept them as equals.
"Hey! Quit spacing out! We're here!" Obito called out.
Fenghuo blinked. It wasn't Ichiraku, of course. That famous ramen stand wasn't even near this district—probably didn't exist yet.
Still, they sat and ordered, downing steaming bowls of ramen as if they hadn't eaten in days.
"Ahhh, that hit the spot!" Obito exclaimed, patting his stomach.
Fenghuo, ravenous after skipping lunch, nodded in agreement. "Alright, time to go."
Just as he stood, Obito spoke.
"Time to wash dishes!"
Fenghuo froze. "Excuse me?!"
Obito crossed his arms and grinned. "Unless you have money to pay?"
"You said you were treating!"
Obito scratched his head sheepishly. "I was, but I gave my allowance to an old lady this morning…"
"You what?!"
"You know me. Future Hokage and all—I couldn't just ignore someone in need." Obito puffed out his chest with pride.
Fenghuo was too stunned to speak.
And so, they were both hauled into the back kitchen by the shop owner, forced to wash dishes for two full hours, all while getting an unsolicited lecture on responsibility and money management.
"I can't believe this…" Fenghuo muttered, scouring a stubborn bowl. "I've never even washed dishes in my past life…"
"You're acting weird," Obito said curiously. "We've done this before, remember?"
...Not for me. Fenghuo groaned inwardly. How has that shopkeeper put up with our nonsense more than once?
That night, after trudging home and banishing Obito with a glare, Fenghuo finally found time to think.
The ramen wasn't just food. He'd picked up on conversations, noticed the calendar. It was Konoha's 39th year—three to four years before the outbreak of the Third Shinobi World War.
Kakashi has just graduated… that means the Academy's on break. Good. I can train alone.
During his first year, the Academy had been intense—likely due to the lingering tensions after the Second War. The instructors, many of them battle-hardened Chūnin, had taught essential techniques like the Three Basic Jutsu, tree-walking, water-walking, and shurikenjutsu. A year there had given him what later generations would get over several.
Time to build my foundation.
Sitting cross-legged on the tatami mat, Fenghuo closed his eyes and began to focus. Chakra, the fusion of physical and spiritual energy, could only be drawn out when balanced properly.
Thanks to his reincarnated memories and experience, he quickly navigated the process—and succeeded.
That was fast…
His spiritual energy was vast—unnaturally so.
Could it be because I reincarnated?
With his body still young and developing, the sheer quantity of mental energy meant he could keep refining chakra at an impressive pace—so long as he built up his physical strength.
And then there's my Sharingan...
His breath caught for a moment. The legendary dōjutsu of the Uchiha Clan. Once awakened, and especially if evolved into the Mangekyō, it could grant techniques like Kamui, Tsukuyomi, Amaterasu… and eventually Susanoo. But at a great cost.
If I can't reach the Eternal Mangekyō, I'll go blind with overuse.
Still, that was a problem for the distant future. For now, Fenghuo steadied his breathing and resumed chakra refining.