Uchiha Demon Dragon - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Art of Running Away and the Observer in the Shadows

The crisp, biting chill of winter had fully descended upon the Hidden Leaf Village, coating the secluded training grounds of the Uchiha compound in a thin, shimmering layer of morning frost.

Two grueling months had passed since Hanta had formally begun Yami’s martial arts training. And over the course of those sixty days, a rather disappointing reality had slowly settled over the father-son duo.

Hanta stood in the center of the frost-covered yard, his breath pluming in the cold air as he watched his six-year-old son attempt to execute a standard sweeping kick. Yami’s form was incredibly stiff. He telegraphed the movement entirely too early, his center of gravity was completely off-balance, and his foot missed the wooden training post by a solid three inches, causing him to spin awkwardly and fall unceremoniously onto his rear end.

“Ow,” Yami muttered, rubbing his tailbone and letting out a long, foggy sigh.

Hanta walked over and offered a hand, pulling Yami up. He dusted off his son’s shoulders with a small, sympathetic smile.

“Alright, Yami. Let’s take a break,” Hanta said, his tone gentle but carrying a hint of undeniable resignation. “Go grab your water bottle. We need to talk about your progress.”

Yami nodded, jogging over to the porch to retrieve his water. He took a long drink, feeling the icy liquid soothe his dry throat. He knew exactly what his father was about to say.

Over the last two months, Hanta had pushed him hard. They had practiced stances, strikes, evasions, and counter-attacks for hours every single day. But no matter how hard Yami tried, his body simply refused to adapt quickly. His muscle memory was slow to build, his physical coordination was terribly average, and his reaction time—without the use of chakra—was exactly what you would expect from a normal, civilian six-year-old.

“Don’t look so down, kiddo,” Hanta said, sitting on the edge of the wooden porch and patting the space next to him. “Sit.”

Yami sat, kicking his short legs. “I’m not doing very well, am I, Dad? I keep tripping over my own feet during the Interceptor forms.”

“You are working incredibly hard, and I am proud of your work ethic,” Hanta corrected him quickly, wrapping a warm arm around Yami’s shoulders. “But as your instructor, I have to be honest with you. Your innate talent for Taijutsu… it isn’t quite on the same level as your talent for chakra extraction or Ninjutsu. In fact, your physical learning curve is almost exactly the same as mine was when I was your age.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Yami asked, playing the part of the concerned child.

“Not necessarily,” Hanta chuckled. “It just means you aren’t going to be a Taijutsu specialist. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. A true shinobi recognizes where they lack natural talent and finds a way to compensate for it.”

Internally, Yami was completely indifferent to this revelation. He ‘knew’ he sucked at pure, physical martial arts. The only reason he was struggling so badly was because he was deliberately refusing to use his ultimate cheat code.

If Yami wanted to, he could instantly push a tiny fraction of his chakra to his optic nerves, activate his Double Tomoe Sharingan, and perfectly copy every single one of his father’s movements. With the Sharingan’s kinetic tracking, his Taijutsu would immediately skyrocket to the level of an absolute prodigy.

But he wouldn’t do it. Revealing his Sharingan was still entirely out of the question. He didn’t want to be paraded in front of the clan elders, and he certainly didn’t want Danzo Shimura putting a target on his back. So, he accepted the title of ‘Taijutsu Mediocrity’ with absolute, secret grace.

“So, how do I compensate for it?” Yami asked, looking up at his father. “If I can’t dodge perfectly using the Interceptor forms, how do I stop from getting hit?”

Hanta’s smile widened, a mischievous glint returning to his dark eyes. “I’m glad you asked. If you can’t rely on pure physical agility to move out of the way of an attack, then you have to rely on raw, explosive speed. Today, we are transitioning away from physical forms. I am going to teach you a supplementary Ninjutsu. The Body Flicker Jutsu.”

Yami’s ears immediately perked up. The ‘Shunshin no Jutsu’.

“The Body Flicker is considered a D-rank technique, but its utility makes it one of the most valuable jutsu in a shinobi’s arsenal,” Hanta explained, standing up and walking back out into the frost-covered yard. “The concept is remarkably simple. You channel a concentrated burst of chakra down into your legs and feet, and then you use it to explosively propel your body forward. The more chakra you inject into the technique, the faster and further you can move.”

Hanta formed a single hand seal—the Tiger—and held it in front of his chest.

‘Whoosh.’

In the absolute blink of an eye, Hanta vanished from the center of the yard, leaving behind a small swirl of displaced frost and dead leaves. A fraction of a second later, he reappeared at the far end of the courtyard, standing perfectly still next to the wooden training post.

Yami’s jaw dropped. Even with his adult comprehension, his normal eyes completely failed to track the movement. It looked exactly like teleportation.

Hanta walked back at a normal, leisurely pace, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It looks impressive, doesn’t it? But there is a massive, incredibly dangerous flaw to this jutsu. It is the very reason why you will rarely see ordinary ninja use it in the middle of close-quarters combat.”

“What’s the flaw?” Yami asked, genuinely curious.

“Tunnel vision,” Hanta replied seriously. “When you propel your body at speeds that violate the natural limits of human biology, your brain and your eyes cannot keep up with the sensory input. The world around you blurs. You lose your peripheral vision entirely. If you use the Body Flicker to charge directly at an enemy, you become a high-speed missile with no steering wheel. If the enemy simply steps to the side and holds out a kunai, you will impale yourself on it before your brain even registers that they moved.”

Yami nodded slowly, recognizing the lore. It was the exact same debilitating drawback that young Kakashi Hatake had faced when he invented the Chidori. Moving at lightning speed was useless if it made you blind to counterattacks.

“Because of this flaw, most ninja only use the Body Flicker for long-distance travel, or to retreat from a fight,” Hanta continued. “However, there are two distinct exceptions to this rule. The Cloud Ninja, who use specialized Lightning chakra to actively stimulate their nervous systems and enhance their brain’s processing speed… and us.”

Hanta tapped the side of his eye. “The Uchiha clan. Our Sharingan allows us to process high-speed kinetic information flawlessly. When an Uchiha uses the Body Flicker, they don’t get tunnel vision. They see the world in perfect, slow-motion clarity. It is what makes our clan so incredibly lethal in open combat.”

Hanta leaned against the porch pillar, crossing his arms. “This ties back to our history with the Senju clan. The Senju are blessed with monstrous physical strength and impossibly huge chakra reserves. They are immovable mountains. We, the Uchiha, are the exact opposite. We don’t have their stamina, and we don’t have their brute strength. But we have unparalleled speed and reaction times. We are the lightning that strikes before the mountain can even realize there is a storm.”

As Hanta finished his profound lecture on clan history and jutsu mechanics, a sharp, crystalline chime rang out directly in the center of Yami’s consciousness.

[Ding!]
[Host has comprehended a technique suitable to unlock the Rabbit Talisman.]
[Rabbit Talisman is now UNLOCKED.]

Yami gasped quietly, his eyes widening as the translucent blue panel forcibly materialized in the air in front of his face. He eagerly scanned the massive block of text that accompanied the unlocking of his fourth Talisman.

‘The Rabbit Talisman grants its bearer the magical power of super speed, vastly increasing movement and reaction time beyond any natural limits.’

‘Maximum speed limit depends on the Talisman’s current level. The actual velocity achieved during use depends directly on the amount of chakra feedback the host provides.’

‘It enables the user to traverse great distances at blinding speeds and perform complex, intricate actions before others can consciously respond. In combat or pursuit, this speed allows for instantaneous repositioning, rapid strikes, evasive maneuvers, and near-simultaneous action across multiple points relative to normal opponents.’

‘The Talisman’s effect extends to any person or object in direct contact with the user, permitting the transport of fragile passengers or vehicles at extreme velocity without causing them any physical or structural damage.’

‘Note: When used in conjunction with the Rooster Talisman’s power of levitation, the Rabbit Talisman enables true, sustained supersonic flight.’

Yami practically vibrated with excitement. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud.

This was it. This was the ultimate golden ticket.

He didn’t care about “rapid strikes” or “near-simultaneous action.” He cared about the fact that he was a self-admitted, unapologetic coward who was absolutely terrified of dying. And the Rabbit Talisman was the universe’s greatest “Get Out of Jail Free” card. As long as he kept this Talisman leveled up and managed his chakra reserves properly, he could instantly run away from almost any dangerous situation.

Madara dropping a meteor? Rabbit Talisman away. Itachi looking at him funny? Rabbit Talisman out the window.

“Alright, Yami. Stop staring into space,” Hanta commanded, clapping his hands once to break his son’s trance. “I want you to try it. Form the Tiger seal. Focus a small pool of chakra into the soles of your feet. Do not push too hard, or you’ll launch yourself into the fence. Just try to jump to the training post.”

Yami quickly composed himself. He stood up, taking a deep breath of the freezing air.

He brought his hands together, forming the Tiger seal. Internally, he completely bypassed the complex, difficult process of molding chakra into his feet. Instead, he willed a tiny fraction of his chakra directly into the newly awakened Rabbit Talisman.

‘Zip.’

The world blurred into long, streaking lines of color for a fraction of a second. Yami felt a sudden, weightless rush of wind against his face, and then the world instantly snapped back into sharp focus.

He was standing exactly one inch away from the wooden training post, his hand resting lightly on the bark. He hadn’t stumbled. He hadn’t kicked up a massive cloud of dust. The movement had been utterly flawless, perfectly controlled by the magic of the Talisman.

Hanta stood on the porch, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in absolute shock. He rubbed his eyes, as if making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“You… you just…” Hanta stammered, walking forward slowly. “Perfect chakra distribution on the first try. No wasted energy. No overshooting the target.”

Hanta stopped in front of Yami, looking down at his son as if looking at an alien species. Slowly, a massive, booming laugh erupted from his chest. He clutched his stomach, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.

“It’s official,” Hanta laughed, ruffling Yami’s hair aggressively. “You are completely, utterly hopeless at Taijutsu, but you are an absolute, terrifying monster when it comes to Ninjutsu. A genius! My son is a Ninjutsu genius!”

Yami offered a sheepish, awkward smile. ‘If only you knew, Dad,’ he thought, sweating nervously on the inside.

He wasn’t a Ninjutsu genius at all. The only reason he could perform the Fireball or the Body Flicker perfectly on the first try was because his system possessed the specific Talismans that governed fire and speed. The system was basically acting as an auto-pilot.

If Hanta suddenly handed him a scroll for a Water Style jutsu—like the Water Dragon technique—and asked him to perform it, Yami would be exposed as a complete fraud. He would probably just end up choking on his own spit. He had absolutely zero affinity for anything that wasn’t covered by his magic demonic animal rocks.

“Can I go practice this on the main track, Dad?” Yami asked, eager to escape the praise before his father asked him to try something else. “The courtyard is too small. I want to see how fast I can go.”

Hanta wiped a tear of mirth from his eye and nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Go to the clan’s main running track. Stretch your legs. But remember what I said about tunnel vision! Don’t run into any walls!”

“I won’t!” Yami promised, already jogging toward the back gate.

As he made his way to the large, oval dirt track located at the center of the Uchiha compound, Yami mentally pulled up his system panel to check his current standing.

—

[Shendu System]

Health: 100%
Chakra: 304/304

Talisman: Tiger Lv3 (37%), Pig Lv2 (66%), Dragon Lv2 (3%), Rabbit Lv1 (0%)

—

Yami couldn’t help but grin. Four out of the twelve Talismans were permanently unlocked. He was officially a third of the way to assembling the full power of Shendu.

His chakra reserves had also ballooned beautifully over the last two months. Breaking past the 300 mark firmly cemented him within the upper echelons of the Genin rank in terms of raw energy capacity. This massive growth was largely thanks to the Tiger Talisman, which had recently hit Level 3. At Level 3, the Talisman permanently expanded his base chakra pool by a wonderful 3 units every single day.

He arrived at the running track. It was completely empty, the winter frost keeping most of the casual trainees indoors. The track was a simple, massive oval, completely free of obstacles, making it the perfect testing ground.

Yami stepped onto the packed dirt, taking a deep breath. He didn’t activate his Sharingan. He wanted to feel exactly what it was like to wield super speed with the limitations of a normal human body. He wanted to understand the tunnel vision his father had warned him about.

He funneled a steady stream of chakra into the Rabbit Talisman and took off.

The acceleration was violent and instantaneous. It felt like he had been fired out of a cannon. The freezing winter wind roared in his ears, tearing at his hair and making his eyes water immediately.

As his speed increased, pushing toward the absolute peak velocity capable of an Academy student using the Body Flicker, the world around him completely warped. The wooden fences, the distant trees, and the rooftops of the compound smeared together into a continuous, muddy streak of brown and green. He completely lost all sense of his peripheral surroundings. It was exactly like riding a terrifying, high-speed roller coaster without a safety harness.

If someone had stepped onto the track in front of him, he would have crashed into them before his brain could even send the signal to stop his legs.

But despite the terrifying lack of visual clarity, Yami felt an overwhelming rush of exhilaration. ‘I am fast,’ he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘I can actually survive here.’

Furthermore, because of the absolute, flawless chakra control granted to him by the Tiger Talisman, the energy consumption for maintaining the Rabbit’s speed was incredibly low. He wasn’t wasting a single drop of energy; every ounce of chakra went directly into pure, unadulterated velocity.

Unbeknownst to Yami, he was not alone at the training grounds.

Sitting on the high wooden bleachers overlooking the track, partially obscured by the shadow of a large oak tree, was a young boy.

Shisui Uchiha sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, nursing a steaming cup of tea. He was only nine years old, but his eyes carried the heavy, exhausted weight of a seasoned war veteran. The Third Great Ninja War was still simmering on the borders, and Shisui had just returned to the village for a brief, incredibly rare three-day leave before he was expected back on the front lines.

He had come to the track to enjoy the quiet solitude of the morning. But his peace had been interrupted by the sound of rushing wind.

Shisui lowered his teacup, his dark eyes narrowing sharply as he watched the small blur tear around the oval track.

‘Who is that?’ Shisui thought, his analytical mind immediately breaking down the technique he was witnessing.

He could easily tell from the physical stature of the blur that it was a very young child—definitely pre-academy age, likely no older than six. But the child was maintaining a continuous, unbroken chain of the Body Flicker technique.

In the entire Uchiha clan, Shisui was widely regarded as the absolute master of the Shunshin. He understood the mechanics of speed better than anyone alive. And what he was seeing right now was genuinely shocking.

‘His chakra flow is practically invisible,’ Shisui noted, leaning forward in interest. ‘There is zero leakage. He’s not using the Sharingan, which means he’s running entirely blind on intuition, but his stride is perfectly balanced. He’s using the Body Flicker better than most of the Genin in my frontline platoon.’

Shisui took a slow sip of his tea, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. Of course, the kid was still significantly slower than Shisui himself. But considering Shisui was three years older, had awakened his Sharingan, and had been hardened by literal warfare, the comparison was hardly fair.

‘The clan has produced another interesting little monster,’ Shisui mused quietly, before standing up and melting away into the shadows, leaving Yami to his training.

Down on the track, Yami had absolutely no idea he had just been analyzed by the future ‘Shisui The Teleporter’. He was entirely focused on the grind.

He ran, and he ran, and he ran. He circled the track dozens of times, letting the Rabbit Talisman consume his steady stream of chakra until he finally felt the familiar, hollow ache in his stomach that signaled his reserves were nearing zero. Even with the Tiger Talisman passively regenerating his energy, the continuous output eventually outpaced the recovery.

Yami slid to a halt, kicking up a massive cloud of dirt and frost. He collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving as he stared up at the clear winter sky. His legs felt like lead weights, and his lungs burned fiercely in the cold air.

“System,” Yami wheezed. “Show me the progress.”

—

[Shendu System]

Health: 100%
Chakra: 16/304

Talisman: Tiger Lv3 (38%), Pig Lv2 (66%), Dragon Lv2 (3%), Rabbit Lv1 (23%)

—

Yami groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Twenty-three percent? Seriously? I just ran a marathon at the speed of a sports car, and I only got twenty-three percent?”

It was incredibly depressing how steep the experience curve was. But as his breathing slowly returned to normal, his pragmatic side took over.

“Okay, look at the math,” he reasoned with himself. “If I can grind out roughly twenty percent a day by exhausting my chakra pool, that means the Rabbit Talisman will hit Level 2 in just four or five days of dedicated training. That’s actually amazing.”

Feeling a renewed sense of motivation, Yami dragged himself off the dirt, dusted off his clothes, and began the slow, aching walk back to his house.

When he finally slid the front doors open, the mouth-watering scent of braised pork and rich broth hit him like a physical wave.

“I’m home!” Yami called out, taking off his dirty sandals.

Aru poked her head out from the kitchen, a wooden ladle in her hand and a warm, welcoming smile on her face. “Welcome back, sweetheart! Go wash your hands and face immediately. You look like you rolled around in a pigsty. Lunch is almost ready.”

“Yes, Mom,” Yami agreed eagerly, rushing to the washroom.

When he returned to the main living area, the low table was already set. Hanta was sitting at the head of the table, sorting through a small pile of official-looking scrolls and newly purchased stationary supplies. He had a brand-new set of kunai, a fresh pack of shuriken, and a pristine, blank notebook sitting neatly on top of the pile.

“What’s all this, Dad?” Yami asked, taking his seat.

Aru placed a large bowl of steaming rice and pork in front of him. “Eat first, talk second,” she scolded lightly, though she was smiling. She sat down next to him, smoothing her apron. “Your father picked up your school supplies today. The Ninja Academy enrollment period begins next week.”

Yami paused, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Next week? Already?”

“Time flies when you’re training,” Hanta laughed, tapping the blank notebook. “You are already 6, Yami. It’s time for you to formally enter the system. The full Academy course is six years long before you officially graduate as a Genin. But before I fill out these enrollment forms, your mother and I need to ask you a very important question.”

Hanta’s expression turned serious, adopting the tone of a professional shinobi advising a subordinate.

“The Ninja Academy is fundamentally divided into two distinct departments for incoming students,” Hanta explained, leaning forward. “They are officially labeled as Section A and Section B. But everyone in the village simply knows them as the Genius class and the Regular class.”

Yami swallowed his food, listening intently.

“If you want to enter Section B, the Regular class, the entrance exam is incredibly simple,” Hanta continued. “All you have to do is demonstrate the ability to extract basic chakra. That’s it. You pass, you get in, and you follow the standard, slow-paced curriculum. It’s safe, and it’s easy.”

“But if you want to enter Section A, the Genius class, the exam is entirely different,” Aru chimed in, her eyes shining with ambition. “There are only thirty seats available for the entire incoming generation. The exam isn’t a fixed test. It is an open demonstration. You have to impress the proctors by showing exceptional talent in ‘any’ shinobi department.”

“Exactly,” Hanta nodded. “You don’t have to be perfect at everything. If you have an abnormally huge chakra reserve, you get in. If you show flawless chakra control, you get in. If your Taijutsu is elite, or if you can perform a Ninjutsu, you get in. The village wants specialists. Most of the students who make it into Section A are the heirs of prominent clans—the Hyuga, the Nara, the Akimichi. Very rarely, an exceptional civilian kid like Minato Namikaze or Might Guy will fight their way into a seat.”

Hanta looked Yami directly in the eyes, his tone conveying the gravity of the choice. “Section A will push you to your absolute limits. The training is brutal, the competition is fierce, and the expectations are sky-high. If you choose Section B, you can have a relatively normal, relaxed childhood. The choice is yours, Yami. Do you want to take the test for the Genius class, or just join the Regular class?”

Yami didn’t even have to think about it.

He remembered the paralyzing fear he felt when he learned of Shin’s death. He remembered the ticking clock of the Uchiha massacre hanging over their heads. A relaxed childhood was an illusion in this world. If he wanted to survive, he needed access to the best resources, the best instructors, and the highest level of competition to push his Talismans to their absolute limits.

Yami looked at his parents, a fierce, unwavering determination burning in his dark eyes.

“Sign me up for the Section A exam, Dad,” Yami said firmly, his voice completely devoid of childish hesitation. “I’m going to take the Genius class.”

Hanta stared at his son for a long moment, before a massive, blindingly proud smile broke across his face. He reached out and aggressively ruffled Yami’s hair.

“That’s my boy,” Hanta praised loudly.

Next to him, Aru clapped her hands together, beaming with absolute delight. “I knew you would say that! I’ll buy the expensive fish for dinner tonight to celebrate your decision!”

Surrounded by the warmth of his family’s pride, Yami smiled. The path ahead was incredibly dangerous, but with a demonic dragon’s power backing him, he was finally ready to step out of the shadows and face the ninja world.