The letter arrived in the early morning, delivered by a silent Uchiha messenger who didn’t say a word. Ken opened the folded parchment on the porch, the wax seal broken clean.

  It read simply:

  The Elders request a demonstration of strength.Today. Third courtyard. Formal test.Failure to comply will be taken as refusal.

  Ken stared at the words for a moment, then folded the paper again.

  He’d expected this.

  After the st meeting, after Shisui’s defense, after the whispers that now filled the compound—this was inevitable. The cn would never let him walk his own path without putting him on trial for it.

  This was the price of being different.

  By the time Ken reached the third courtyard, half the compound already knew.

  Older Uchiha lined the surrounding balconies, silent and expressionless. Cn youths—genin and top-ranking academy students—stood in circles, watching. Whispering. Waiting.

  The courtyard was a squared-off stone ptform framed by wooden rails and carved fans. An arena, in everything but name.

  At the center stood Elder Nakano, fnked by two other council members.

  And across from them, a boy already waiting—Uchiha Riku.

  Ken recognized him immediately. Twelve years old, already a genin. Fire nature. Sharingan awakened. One of the main family’s sharpest rising stars.

  He looked at Ken like someone who had already won.

  Elder Nakano raised his voice. “Ken Uchiha, you’ve requested to walk a path outside cn tradition. A path without fire. Without our jutsu. Without the Sharingan.”

  Ken said nothing.

  Nakano continued. “We will allow you to prove your strength in formal duel. No killing blows. No interference. You win—your methods stand. You lose—you return to the path expected of your blood.”

  Ken’s gaze didn’t move.

  This wasn’t about pride. It wasn’t even about rebellion. This was survival—the right to keep building his own way without someone forcing a legacy down his throat.

  He stepped into the ring.

  Riku cracked his knuckles as he walked forward.

  “You should’ve just kept hiding in the branch family,” he said casually. “I would’ve left you alone.”

  Ken drew his wooden sword from his back and took a stance. “You still can.”

  Riku grinned. “You’ll wish I did.”

  The duel started with fire.

  Riku moved fast, weaving seals as his chakra fred red. Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu. A flurry of small fireballs shot toward Ken like shotgun pellets.

  Ken flickered.

  One instant, he was in front of them. The next, gone. No hand signs. No warning.

  He reappeared low, behind Riku, bde sweeping for the boy’s legs.

  But Riku was ready—he spun with a Sharingan gre and deflected with a kunai, countering with a high kick. Ken ducked and rolled, slipping under the strike and shing out with his wind-infused palm.

  Fūton: Saji Otoshi.

  The wind hit Riku’s chest with a sudden bst. He stumbled back, surprised, footing broken for half a second. That was all Ken needed.

  He closed the distance, silent and fast, wooden bde raised for the colrbone—

  —but Riku’s Sharingan caught it. His body twisted unnaturally, avoiding the strike, and his elbow smmed into Ken’s ribs with brutal precision.

  Ken grunted, sliding back across the stones.

  The courtyard was silent.

  “He’s fast,” someone whispered from the crowd.

  “But he doesn’t have the eyes.”

  “Riku’s reading everything he does.”

  Ken stood slowly, hand brushing his ribs.

  They were right. Riku’s Sharingan let him track movements Ken had practiced for years. His flicker, his sword, his footwork—predictable to eyes that could see chakra before it moved.

  Ken exhaled slowly.

  I’m not going to beat him with tricks, he thought. I have to outst him. Push him. Break rhythm.

  He dropped into stance again.

  Riku didn’t wait.

  He came fast this time—no jutsu, just taijutsu fueled by his visual edge. His punches were crisp, aimed to corner. His feet moved with sharp angles, herding Ken toward the courtyard edge.

  Ken gave ground, pivoted, slipped under a kick, and—

  Water.

  He stomped hard.

  The hidden water film beneath the stones—set before the match even began—rippled upward in a wave.

  Riku’s footing broke.

  Ken moved in. Sword raised. Palm low.

  But Riku recovered faster than expected. His eyes glowed red. His counterstrike was instant—a burst of fire from his mouth.

  Too fast to dodge.

  The heat smmed into Ken’s chest, sending him skidding back, smoke rising from his burned shirt. He coughed once, pain shooting through his lungs.

  The crowd murmured again.

  Riku walked forward, Sharingan spinning. “You're done,” he said. “You’re clever, but clever doesn’t win against this.”

  Ken's vision blurred for a second.

  He saw red.

  But not from blood.

  From inside.

  A heat—not chakra, not fire, but crity. Pressure behind the eyes. A soundless click.

  Suddenly, the world changed.

  The stones beneath him sharpened. The air shimmered with light trails. Riku’s chakra glowed in pulsing waves of red and white.

  I can see him.

  His heart pounded once.

  The Sharingan had awakened.

  The crowd erupted in shocked gasps.

  Riku’s eyes widened. “You—?”

  Ken didn’t give him time to finish.

  He moved.

  Not with speed—with insight.

  His flicker wasn’t just fast now. It was precise. He predicted Riku’s shift before he made it. His bde came in low, struck Riku’s thigh. Another flicker. Behind. Elbow to spine. Riku spun, wild, countering with a fist—

  Ken weaved around it, grabbed his arm, and twisted.

  Riku’s knees hit stone.

  Ken’s wooden bde touched his throat.

  Silence.

  Elder Nakano stood slowly, disbelief etched across his face.

  Ken lowered his weapon, stepped back, and deactivated the Sharingan with a slow blink.

  Riku stayed on the ground, panting, eyes wide.

  The courtyard remained frozen for a moment. Then whispers returned—louder, confused, curious.

  Shisui appeared on the rooftop above, crouched like a hawk, arms crossed, a slow smile forming.

  Elder Nakano’s voice finally returned. Low. Controlled.

  “Victory… to Ken Uchiha.”

  A pause.

  “Your techniques are… acknowledged. For now.”

  Ken didn’t smile.

  He didn’t celebrate.

  He just walked out of the courtyard, hand on his ribs, blood in his mouth, and a new crity in his eyes.

  He hadn't awakened the Sharingan out of rage.

  Not out of pride.

  But because he refused to lose his way.

  And the cn would remember that.