Uchiha Demon Dragon - Chapter 11

Chapter 11 — The Consequences of Truancy and the Feline Noble

The walk back to the Uchiha compound from the main estate was quiet, the evening air carrying the distinct chill of early autumn. Yami slipped his hands into his pockets, the pitch-black sunglasses resting securely on the bridge of his nose. Beneath the darkened lenses, his eyes scanned the freshly paved streets of their isolated district.

He felt a quiet sense of triumph. Four talismans unlocked in a single afternoon. The sheer volume of raw potential resting in his system was staggering, even if three of them were currently sitting at a pitiful Level 1 with zero percent experience. He was already drafting mental schedules for how to grind the Ox, Snake, and Horse talismans safely.

His thoughts were interrupted as his own house came into view. The front door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling out onto the dirt path.

Yami frowned. ‘Did Aki leave the door open again?’

He pushed the door wide, stepping into the genkan to toe off his sandals. “I’m home—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Aru materialized from the kitchen living area with the speed of a veteran kunoichi, her face pale, her eyes wide and bloodshot. Before Yami could even process her expression, she crossed the distance between them and dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around his small frame in a crushing, desperate hug.

“Mom?” Yami muttered, the breath knocked out of him. He could feel her trembling.

She held him like that for a long, suffocating moment, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Then, just as suddenly, she pulled back. Her eyes hardened.

‘Smack.’

The slap echoed sharply in the narrow entryway. It wasn’t infused with chakra, nor was it a full-strength strike, but it stung fiercely against Yami’s left cheek. His head snapped slightly to the side.

Yami blinked, slowly turning his face back to look at her. He didn’t raise a hand to his cheek. His mind, moving at the speed of an adult trapped in a child’s body, processed the situation with cold detachment. ‘Okay. Unprovoked physical reprimand. Emotional distress evident. Cause: unknown.’

“Where were you?” Aru demanded, her voice cracking, hovering dangerously between a sob and a scream. “Where were you, Yami?! You didn’t go to the Academy!”

Ah. The pieces clicked together instantly.

“I was at the main estate,” Yami said evenly, keeping his voice calm to de-escalate her panic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wooden token bearing the Uchiha crest. “Fugaku-sama gave me access to the clan library last night at dinner. I thought… well, I assumed the first day of the Academy was just orientation. I thought reading the clan scrolls was a better use of my time.”

Aru stared at the token, her chest heaving. The anger in her face fractured, giving way to a bone-deep exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell us,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders again. “You didn’t tell your father, and you didn’t tell me. The Academy instructor contacted the Police Force when you didn’t show up for Section A roll call. Do you have any idea what we thought?”

“It’s just skipping class, Mom,” Yami said gently. “Half the civilian kids do it on the first day to play by the river.”

“You are not a civilian kid!” Aru snapped, though the heat had left her voice. She pulled him back against her chest, burying her face in his hair. “Yami, children have been going missing. Not just orphans. Genin, Academy students, civilian kids near the edges of the village. The Police Force is drowning in cold cases. When your father heard you never made it to class… he thought someone took you.”

Yami stiffened. Missing children. ‘Of course.’ In his pursuit of jutsu, he had completely glossed over the timeline. Danzo’s Root was always looking for fresh, untraceable recruits, and Orochimaru was still highly active in his twisted, clandestine human experiments. Skipping class wasn’t just playing hooky in Konoha; in the current political climate, it was a legitimate missing person crisis.

“I’m sorry,” Yami said softly, wrapping his small arms around his mother’s back. He meant it. He had treated the village like a video game hub world today, forgetting that to his parents, this was a very real, very dangerous military dictatorship.

Aru took a shuddering breath and pulled back. She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, her military discipline finally reasserting itself.

“Go to your room,” she instructed, her voice steadying. “I need to call your father off the search.”

Aru stood up, her hands moving in a blur of practiced, fluid motion. ‘Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram.’ She bit the tip of her thumb, drawing a bead of blood, and slammed her palm against the floorboards.

‘Poof.’

A plume of white smoke plumed in the hallway. As it cleared, a large, midnight-black crow stood on the wood, its intelligent eyes fixing immediately on Aru.

“Find Hanta,” Aru ordered the bird, her tone strictly professional now. “Tell him the boy is home. He was in the clan library. Tell him to call off the patrol.”

The crow gave a sharp, affirmative caw, hopped onto the windowsill, and launched itself into the darkening sky.

Yami watched it go, then looked back at his mother. She pointed a stern finger toward the hallway. “Room. Now. Your father will deal with you when he gets back.”

Yami nodded respectfully and walked down the hall to his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he sat on the edge of his bed and finally touched his stinging cheek.

Instead of resentment, a strange, warm feeling bloomed in his chest. In his previous life on Earth, he had been a solitary man. No one waited up for him. No one would have noticed if he vanished for a day, let alone mobilized a search party in a blind panic. The slap wasn’t abuse; it was the physical manifestation of absolute, terrifying love.

“I really am an idiot sometimes,” Yami muttered to himself, a small smile playing on his lips. “The coward’s path requires actually communicating your hiding spots.”

—

Two hours later, the front door nearly blew off its hinges.

Hanta tore into the house, his standard Uchiha Police uniform rumpled, his chest heaving as if he had run from the opposite end of the village without using chakra. Yami, who had been sitting quietly at his desk, turned as his bedroom door swung open.

His father stood in the doorway. For a brief second, Yami saw the crimson glow of the Sharingan in Hanta’s eyes, spinning wildly in the dim light before Hanta forcibly suppressed it, returning his eyes to their natural obsidian black.

Hanta didn’t yell immediately. He walked over, grabbed Yami by the shoulders, and inspected him from head to toe, checking for injuries, genjutsu triggers, or physical trauma. Finding nothing, Hanta collapsed onto the edge of Yami’s bed, burying his face in his large, calloused hands.

“Do you have any idea,” Hanta began, his voice muffled and ragged, “how many dark alleys I’ve had to search this month? How many parents I’ve had to look in the eye and say, ‘We haven’t found a trace’?”

“Mom told me,” Yami said quietly. “I didn’t know about the kidnappings. I just wanted to use the library token. I’m sorry, Dad.”

Hanta looked up, his expression a mix of profound exhaustion and lingering fear. “Yami, you are smart. You are too smart for a six-year-old. But intelligence is not a substitute for wisdom. In this village, an anomaly makes you a target. An Uchiha with your test scores wandering alone instead of being safely within the Academy walls… it is a tactical nightmare. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” Yami replied steadily. “I won’t blindside you again. I promise.”

Hanta stared at him for a long moment, searching Yami’s face behind the dark sunglasses. Finally, the tension drained from his broad shoulders. He reached out and aggressively ruffled Yami’s hair.

“You’re grounded for a week,” Hanta declared, the fatherly authority returning to his tone. “No training outside the yard. No detours after the Academy. You go to class, and you come straight home.”

“Fair enough,” Yami conceded.

The heavy atmosphere broke. Dinner that night was quiet but warm. Aki, completely oblivious to the panic she had slept through, threw a piece of steamed carrot at Yami’s head. Yami caught it lazily with two fingers, much to her delight. Things had returned to normal.

—

Later that night, long after the house had fallen silent and the lights were extinguished, Yami sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor. The moonlight filtered through his window, casting pale rectangles across the wooden boards.

He pulled a small, blank scroll from his desk drawer. It was time to test the asset he had acquired in the archives.

He didn’t need the massive, heavy contract scroll he had signed in the library; the pact was already bound to his blood and chakra. He drew a kunai from his holster, pressed the sharp edge against his thumb, and drew a fresh drop of blood.

He ran through the hand seals slowly, ensuring his chakra molded perfectly. ‘Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram.’ “Summoning Jutsu,” Yami whispered, pressing his palm flat against the floorboards.

A web of intricate black sealing formulas spread outward from his hand, glowing faintly with a bluish hue. A small puff of white smoke erupted in the center of his room, accompanied by a soft ‘pop’.

Yami leaned forward, adjusting his sunglasses. He expected a massive battle-cat. Perhaps something wearing a tiny flak jacket, or a feline carrying an oversized sword.

When the smoke cleared, sitting perfectly still on the floorboards, was a cat. Just… a cat.

It was sleek, entirely black, with piercing, golden-yellow eyes. It wore no clothes, carried no weapons, and was no larger than a standard housecat. It sat on its haunches, curled its tail neatly around its paws, and stared up at Yami with an expression that could only be described as profound disdain.

“Well,” the cat said, its voice smooth, feminine, and dripping with aristocratic arrogance. “This is disappointing.”

Yami blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said, this is disappointing,” the cat repeated, lifting one front paw and idly licking it. “I felt the pull of the contract. I assumed Fugaku finally needed my expertise, or perhaps one of the elders was looking to negotiate a new information-sharing treaty. Instead, I am summoned to a child’s bedroom by a brat wearing indoor sunglasses. Are you playing ninja, little boy?”

Yami let out a slow breath. ‘Ah. Intelligent, witty, and deeply obnoxious. Perfect.’

“My name is Yami,” he said calmly. “And considering I signed the contract today, you should have known whose chakra pulled you here.”

The cat paused her grooming and narrowed her golden eyes. “Yami? Hanta’s boy? The one who bypassed Section B?” She sighed dramatically, a very human sound coming from a feline throat. “Fine. My name is Yoruichi. Try not to wear it out.”

“Yoruichi,” Yami tested the name, amused by the Bleach coincidence. “Nice to meet you. Tell me how this works. I signed the general clan contract. Why did I get you specifically?”

Yoruichi stood up, stretching her back until it arched perfectly, before sitting back down. “The Ninja Cats do not operate like the Toads or the Snakes, kid. We are civilized. We run a bureaucracy. When you sign the contract, you are assigned a handler based on your chakra signature and potential. I am your handler.”

“So, I can only summon you?”

“Precisely,” Yoruichi said, her tail flicking. “If you need a combat tracker, an infiltration specialist, or a heavy-hitter, you tell me. I negotiate the fee—usually in premium catnip, weapons, or information—and I call them through my own connection. I am your middleman to the Cat Realm. You do not get to bother the elders directly.”

Yami nodded slowly. It made sense. An intelligence network wouldn’t just let an untried six-year-old page their top operatives directly.

“There is one other thing,” Yoruichi added, her tone turning slightly more professional. “Because your chakra is now bound to our network, you have access to the Feline Chakra Construct. Do you know what that is?”

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s an application of shape transformation,” Yoruichi explained, pacing slowly in a circle. “Similar to how that creepy Orochimaru fellow converts his chakra into physical snakes to scout or attack. You can mold your chakra into the form of a cat. It’s essentially a specialized shadow clone, but heavily modified. You control it, you see through its eyes, and it can slip into places a human clone cannot. The downside? It possesses no combat capability. If it gets hit, it disperses immediately.”

Yami’s mind raced. A remote-controlled, inconspicuous drone. In a village overflowing with sensory ninja and paranoia, a stray cat was infinitely more invisible than a human child, even one under the Snake Talisman’s invisibility.

“I accept,” Yami said immediately. “Show me the theory.”

For the next hour, Yoruichi sat on his desk, meticulously walking him through the precise chakra molding required to form the construct. She was an excellent teacher, despite her constant, stinging insults regarding his “clumsy human coils.” Yami absorbed the information perfectly, his Tiger Talisman passively regulating his chakra flow to execute her instructions without a single misstep.

“Adequate,” Yoruichi finally declared, jumping down from the desk. “You aren’t entirely useless. We might make a shinobi out of you yet, kid.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Yami replied dryly. “You can head back now. I’ll call you when I actually need something.”

“See that you do. And next time, have snacks prepared. I prefer dried tuna.”

With a condescending swish of her tail, Yoruichi released the summoning jutsu and vanished in a small puff of smoke.

Yami sat back against his bedframe, exhaling deeply. The cat was annoying, but the asset was invaluable. An untraceable scouting tool was exactly what he needed.

But before he went to sleep, there was one more thing he needed to test.

He stood up, walking to the center of his room. While in the library, alongside the talismans, he had meticulously memorized the hand seals and chakra flow for the Shadow Clone Jutsu (Kage Bunshin). The ability to multiply his training efforts and test talisman limits safely was too good to pass up.

Yami raised his hands, crossing his index and middle fingers in a plus sign. He focused his chakra, drawing from his reserves.

“Shadow Clone Jutsu!”

He expected the familiar ‘poof’ of smoke and an exact replica of himself to appear.

Instead, the world seemed to pause. The familiar, sterile blue light of the Shendu System flared to life in his vision, blocking his sight entirely.

[Ding!]

[Anomaly Detected. System Integration with Host’s Conceptual Understanding Triggered.]
[Please select the Shadow Clone Type:]

1. Ninjakhan
2. Razorkhan
3. Batkhan
4. Sumokhan
5. SamuraiKhan
6. Squidkhan
7. Carbkhan
8. Minikhan
9. MantisKhan

Yami froze, his hands still locked in the cross seal. He stared at the glowing blue text floating in the air.

“What in the world…” he muttered.

His mind aggressively dug through his memories of his past life. The Shendu System was based on the talismans from Jackie Chan Adventures. But these… these were the Shadowkhan. The personal army of the Oni Masks.

‘The system didn’t just give me the talismans. It integrated the entire franchise’s dark magic system into my chakra network.’

“System,” Yami whispered, his heart beating a fraction faster. “Explain.”

[Ding!]

[Host has acquired a cloning/replication jutsu. The System has substituted the standard Kage Bunshin with the Shadowkhan Summoning Matrix to optimize chakra efficiency and eliminate feedback trauma.]

[Note: Host may still utilize standard Kage Bunshin by explicitly commanding the System to override the Shadowkhan menu prior to casting.]

Yami lowered his hands. This was a massive development. The fatal flaw of the Shadow Clone Jutsu was the mental fatigue and trauma feedback—when a clone dispelled, all its exhaustion and memories flooded the original user. If he created a clone to grind jutsu and it died violently, his six-year-old brain would suffer the psychic shock.

The Shadowkhan didn’t have that problem. They were mindless, perfectly obedient constructs born from shadow.

“Let’s test this,” Yami said softly. He raised his hands again, locking his fingers. “Ninjakhan.”

The shadows in the corner of his bedroom suddenly deepened. They pooled together like spilled ink, swirling violently before rising upward, taking three-dimensional form.

A figure stepped silently out of the darkness. It was tall, clad head-to-toe in tight, dark blue ninja garb. Its skin was a sickly, pale gray, and its eyes burned with a menacing, solid red glow. It knelt instantly before Yami, its head bowed in absolute submission.

Yami checked his chakra reserves. He had 328 units.

The standard Shadow Clone Jutsu split the user’s chakra evenly in half. If he had cast a normal Kage Bunshin, he would be down to 164 units.

He looked at his system readout.

[Chakra: 318/328]

Yami’s breath hitched. Ten units. It cost a meager ‘ten chakra units’ to summon a fully formed Ninjakhan. The consumption decrease was astronomical. With his current reserves, he could theoretically summon a small platoon of these things, whereas normal shadow clones would drain him dry in two casts.

“Stand up,” Yami ordered.

The Ninjakhan rose smoothly, completely silent.

“Punch the air.”

The shadow ninja threw a lightning-fast jab. The mechanics were flawless, the physical strength roughly equivalent to a standard, physical-focused Genin.

Yami smiled. This was incredible. Cheap labor, disposable scouts, and instant combat fodder.

“Now,” Yami commanded, stepping back. “Fire a heat beam from your eyes. Like the Pig Talisman.”

The Ninjakhan stood perfectly still. It stared at Yami with its glowing red eyes, but nothing happened. It tilted its head slightly, a gesture of hollow confusion.

Yami’s smile faded. “Form a fire blast in your hand. Dragon Talisman.”

Again, nothing. The Ninjakhan just stood there.

Yami sighed, rubbing his temples. ‘Of course. There’s always a catch.’

The good news: the Shadowkhan were incredibly cheap to summon, entirely obedient, and spared him the mental fatigue of normal clones.

The bad news: they were completely severed from the Shendu System. They could not use the talismans. They were purely physical, martial constructs. If he wanted a clone to spam heat beams or fly, he would have to override the system and cast a traditional, expensive, high-risk Shadow Clone.

“You’re a blunt instrument,” Yami murmured, looking at the silent ninja. “But a very useful one.”

He waved his hand. “Dismissed.”

The Ninjakhan immediately melted back into the floorboards, dissolving into normal, ambient shadow as if it had never existed.

Yami walked over to his bed and collapsed onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. He was grounded for a week. He had an annoying aristocratic cat for a spy, a menu of shadowy demons at his beck and call, and tomorrow, he had to face Section A of the Academy and sit in a classroom with Itachi Uchiha.

“Hold onto the fear,” Yami whispered to the dark room, echoing his father’s advice.

He closed his eyes, his passive chakra regeneration already pushing him back to maximum capacity.

“I’m terrified. Let’s get to work.”