Life at the Academy settled into a deceptive rhythm. Each day was a carefully choreographed act of normalcy. I attended lectures, fumbled intentionally with basic jutsu, and played the part of the quiet, observant orphan. While other students openly competed for Iruka-sensei's praise, I sought a different kind of progress, measured only by the silent updates of the Evolution System.
My nights continued to be devoted to training. The orphanage backyard, initially a frustrating arena, slowly became a familiar space. The headaches from Sharingan activation lessened, replaced by a dull ache that I could now manage. I could hold the one-tomoe Sharingan for a few minutes at a time, and the world would sharpen into a clarity that still startled me. The grass blades became individual strands, the rustle of leaves a symphony of distinct movements, and the distant chirping of crickets vibrated with palpable chakra.
One-Tomoe Sharingan Activated. Stability improved (0.5%). Chakra drain: Low-Moderate. Skill Progress: Sharingan Control (E -> D-)
I also used the heightened perception of the Sharingan for my taijutsu practice. Even a brief flash allowed me to analyze my posture, the flow of my movements, and correct subtle inefficiencies. My coordination improved, and the stiffness began to yield to a more fluid, albeit still basic, fighting style.
One afternoon, Iruka-sensei announced sparring practice. It was a simple exercise: taijutsu only, no chakra. The goal was to demonstrate basic combat awareness and evasion. My stomach twisted. This was a critical test of my Adaptation mission. I needed to perform well enough to not be seen as weak, but not so well as to draw undue attention.
I was paired with a civilian-born student, a boy named Hiroki, who was enthusiastic but clumsy. He charged forward, throwing wide, predictable punches. I dodged, weaving under his arm, my movements economical. It felt instinctual, like my body already knew what to do. I didn't activate the Sharingan; the risk was too high. Instead, I relied on the subtle improvements to my reflexes and awareness. After a few exchanges, I feigned a stumble, allowing him to tag my shoulder.
"Good! Namekaze shows excellent evasion, but needs to work on his offensive," Iruka-sensei called out, making a note on his clipboard. "Hiroki, good aggression!"
I nodded, pretending a slight disappointment, but internally I was satisfied. It was a perfectly average performance.
Then, Iruka-sensei called the next pair: "Sasuke Uchiha and Kiba Inuzuka!"
The class watched intently as Sasuke, already carrying an air of quiet superiority, faced Kiba, whose boisterous energy was a stark contrast to Sasuke's controlled movements. Kiba lunged, shouting. Sasuke, with unnerving calm, slipped past, delivering a precise, light tap to Kiba's side before he even realized what happened. He was fast, impossibly smooth, even at this age. His every move was deliberate, efficient.
A sharp pang went through me. Even without the Sharingan, I could see his inherent talent, the raw power that was already miles ahead of my own. He was driven, relentless. And utterly alone. He finished the spar without a word, his expression unchanged, as if Kiba had been nothing more than a training dummy.
Later that week, a new mission appeared on my System interface. It was unexpected, framed as a sub-objective to the existing "Adaptation" mission.
Sub-Mission: Peer Observation - Sasuke Uchiha Objective: Gain a deeper understanding of Sasuke Uchiha's capabilities, motivations, and current emotional state through discreet observation. (Progress: 0/3 observations) Reward: 15 EP, Insight (Sasuke Uchiha - unlocked information in Status). Status: Pending
My breath hitched. The System was actively pushing me towards Sasuke. It wasn't just my fanfic-fueled desire anymore; it was a directive. This wasn't about simply preventing his downfall; it was about understanding the intricate web of his existence.
The next few weeks became a meticulous dance of observation. I watched Sasuke during lunch, during breaks, during the walk home. He always ate alone. He always practiced alone. His focus was absolute, almost obsessive. There was a raw, palpable grief and anger radiating from him, even when he tried to hide it. His eyes, though lacking the crimson tomoe, held a depth of pain that mirrored my own secret.
One day, I saw him practicing shuriken throws after class. His accuracy was frightening. Every throw landed with a soft thwack in the dead center. I remained hidden behind a tree, activating my Sharingan for just a few precious seconds. The world gained a subtle red hue. I didn't see him move faster, but I felt the efficiency of his chakra, the precise targeting mechanism in his brain. It was like observing a perfectly honed machine.
Observation Progress: 1/3 (Sasuke Uchiha - Combat Focus).
Deactivating the Sharingan, I leaned back against the tree, a thoughtful frown on my face. Sasuke was already formidable. To stand by his side, to truly help him, I needed to close the gap. The Academy was just the start. The real evolution, the true forging of the forgotten Uchiha, had only just begun. The path was long, shrouded in secrets, but every flicker of the Sharingan brought me closer to understanding the world, and my place within its intricate, dangerous design.
Uchiha Namekaze is now actively tracking Sasuke, guided by a new System mission. His secret training is progressing, but the gap between him and the prodigal Uchiha is clear.
How will Namekaze continue his "peer observation" of Sasuke without arousing suspicion, and what new challenges might arise from the increasing intensity of Academy training or from his growing understanding of the dangerous political landscape of Konoha?
End of chapter 7