The blue veins on Riku's forehead gradually faded, but his eyes only grew brighter and sharper.
As the Caged Bird Seal was slowly eroded away, an indescribable sense of freedom surged through him. The chakra within his body flowed more freely than ever before, pulsing with life and energy.
"So this… this is what freedom feels like? It's wonderful."
For a long moment, Riku didn't continue cultivating. Instead, he lay quietly upon the quilt, breathing in the sweet air with greedy satisfaction. After six long years of transmigration and suppression, he finally had a taste of true freedom—a bird no longer trapped within a cage.
Recalling his endless years of effort, a faint daze clouded his mind, followed swiftly by an overwhelming sense of relief.
From this day onward, his life would begin a new chapter.
Although the Caged Bird Seal was not yet completely broken, Riku could sense that the process was irreversible. Judging from the current rate of erosion produced by his Evil-Breaking Seal Technique, he estimated that it would take roughly half a year for the curse mark to disappear entirely.
Half a year—perhaps that sounded long.
But for someone who had been confined for six years, it was nothing at all.
More importantly, a faint gap had already appeared within the Caged Bird Seal. Even if a member of the Main Family attempted to activate it, Riku's life would no longer be in immediate danger. And as the seal weakened further, its influence would fade until it was completely gone.
The realization allowed him to relax for the first time in years.
After the initial excitement faded, however, Riku's thoughts turned inward. How should he live once this new chapter of his life began?
The Third Great Ninja War had essentially come to an end. Across the shinobi world, the name of Minato Namikaze, the Yellow Flash, was now known and feared. In Konoha itself, Minato's prestige had already eclipsed that of his former master—Orochimaru.
Just half a month earlier, Minato had returned to Konoha at the head of a victorious army. The entire village had celebrated his triumph, greeting him as a hero.
It was clear to everyone that Minato was the man most likely to become the Fourth Hokage.
But even such a dazzling hero could not prevent the tragedies that unfolded around him.
His three disciples—one dead, one crippled, and one broken by despair.
What a cruel fate.
Under Madara Uchiha's hidden manipulations, Rin had become a sacrificial pawn; Obito had fallen into darkness; and Kakashi, shattered by grief, had sunk into the lonely numbness of adulthood.
Perhaps it was because of these losses that Minato sought the Hokage's mantle—to protect others from enduring similar pain, to shape a world where such tragedies would no longer occur.
Yet Riku knew something Minato could not possibly foresee.
A year from now, his most beloved disciple—Obito—would unleash the Nine-Tailed Fox upon Konoha, leading to the death of both Minato and his wife.
What a twisted kind of filial piety.
And yet, from a purely strategic standpoint, Obito's move was shrewd.
Had he not removed Minato when he did, once the Yellow Flash consolidated his rule as Hokage and honed his power even further, Konoha would have soon recovered its former strength.
After all, Minato was not short-sighted or politically narrow like the Third Hokage.
He was the true inheritor of the Will of Fire.
A strong Konoha and a wise Hokage, however, would be great obstacles to Obito's dream of a "perfect world."
These events had not yet occurred—but Riku, armed with knowledge of the story to come, now possessed the potential to influence it all.
The question was: Should he?
Would altering the flow of fate bring him any benefit? Would it serve his long-term goals?
If Riku intervened fully, he might save Minato and his wife, perhaps even prevent the future disasters that awaited Konoha. In doing so, he could help the village flourish once more.
A prosperous Konoha would bring prosperity to its clans as well.
But among those clans, it was always the Hyuga Main Family who reaped the greatest share of every reward.
And that was something Riku could never accept.
He was destined to shatter the corruption within the Hyuga Clan—so how could he allow his oppressors to grow stronger?
Even if Minato, as Hokage, sympathized with the suffering of the Branch Family, the stability of Konoha would demand that he preserve the current hierarchy. For the sake of the village's harmony, he might still uphold the Main Family's dominance.
In that case, Konoha's prosperity would not be the outcome Riku desired.
No—what he needed was the opposite.
The weaker the village became, the less capable its Hokage, the greater his chance to upend the Hyuga's corrupt system.
Thus, when he traced backward from his desired future to his present actions, the answer became clear.
The story must proceed according to its original flow.
A Konoha ruled by the indecisive Third Hokage was precisely the environment Riku required.
Moreover, refraining from drastically altering the timeline before his own strength matured would grant him more freedom—and more opportunities.
Having reached this conclusion, Riku finally outlined a rough plan for the next phase of his life.
The following morning, he awoke early, the dawn's pale light spilling across the room.
But this time, instead of heading to Elder Huoshu's residence for instruction, Riku changed into a fresh set of clothes and stepped out of the Hyuga Compound.
His destination: the Konoha Ninja Academy.
As he walked through the village streets, he passed many children heading the same way. Most were accompanied by their parents, while Riku moved alone.
He knew he looked solitary—perhaps even pitiful—but he didn't feel that way.
On the contrary, a warm, genuine smile curved his lips.
Today was the first day of his rebirth.
Even if his parents were watching from the afterlife, they would surely feel proud.
Why, then, should he feel sadness?
Like a butterfly newly freed from its cocoon, Riku walked joyfully through each street, drawing curious glances from passersby.
When he reached the Ninja Academy, he found the courtyard already crowded. Dozens of people had gathered—children and parents alike—filling the air with chatter and excitement.
A single glance was enough for Riku's enhanced perception to detect more than a dozen distinct chakra signatures that radiated quiet danger.
These were no ordinary civilians.
They were Konoha's true elite.
The ability to sense chakra so precisely was something Riku had recently developed as his Byakugan advanced. Though its range extended only a few dozen meters, it was extremely subtle—nearly impossible to detect.
This ability had already proven useful.
Just like now, when none of the gathered ninja realized that Riku's invisible eyes were sweeping over them.
Scanning the crowd, he recognized several clan insignias.
The Ino–Shika–Chō trio—the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka families—were present. So too were the Aburame, masters of insect-based ninjutsu, and the Sarutobi, whose members often exuded an air of simple, honest strength.
But it was the emblem of the Uchiha Clan that caught Riku's attention most sharply.
Even among the crowd, that distinctive fan-shaped symbol stood out immediately.
Following his gaze upward, Riku's eyes widened slightly when he recognized the man wearing it.
Fugaku Uchiha—the Fierce-Eyed.
So it's him!
Riku felt a flicker of surprise, then noticed the small boy standing beside Fugaku—a child whose expression was calm to the point of eeriness. His delicate face already bore faint nasolabial lines, as if he had been born carrying the weight of the world.
Uchiha Itachi.
At this time, Fugaku had just earned his title as the "Fierce-Eyed," and the Uchiha Clan's performance during the war had been nothing short of outstanding. Representing his clan here today, Fugaku naturally attracted much attention. Several parents and elders approached him, eager to exchange greetings.
Meanwhile, the young Itachi stood quietly by his father's side, unnoticed by most.
Yet he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.
There was a detached calmness about him—a serenity that made him seem far older than his years.
Riku couldn't help but smile wryly.
"Itachi's only five, isn't he? He shouldn't even be old enough to enter the Academy yet. But then again… he is the Uchiha Clan's prodigy."
The thought made him chuckle softly to himself.
The wind stirred through the courtyard, carrying with it the laughter of children and the murmurs of their parents. Standing amidst the noise, Riku felt strangely at peace. The chains that had bound him for so long were finally weakening, and the road ahead—uncertain though it was—belonged to him alone.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Riku felt truly alive.