Blocking Itachi’s Birth Fountain

"You've been in the village for a while now," Fugaku said after setting down his tea. His gaze sharpened. "Is there any ninjutsu you'd like to learn?"

Qingsi hesitated, giving a modest smile.

"I've only just entered the academy… Isn't it still too early for me to learn ninjutsu?"

Fugaku shook his head slightly, his expression unmoved.

"You're an Uchiha. Choosing a ninjutsu is a right inherited by all clan members—regardless of age."

His voice was steady, but it carried weight. The kind of weight that made disobedience feel like betrayal.

That weathered, square-jawed face of his projected the air of leadership—of tradition passed down like sacred flame.

"This is a gift," Qingsi realized, "but also a test."

"Then… thank you, Lord Fugaku," Qingsi replied, feigning gratitude.

Fugaku nodded approvingly.

In his mind, investing a few scrolls into Qingsi was a small price for loyalty. The boy was clearly talented—more than just the rumors from the academy. The clan could use someone like him.

Or… keep him at arm's length if he couldn't be molded.

"The five base chakra natures," Fugaku continued, "are fire, water, earth, wind, and lightning. What element are you attuned to?"

Qingsi paused as if recalling.

"I've used chakra paper before. My affinity is with lightning."

Fugaku raised an eyebrow but didn't question it.

"Lightning, is it? Fitting."

Indeed, for one with ties to the Yotsuki clan, it made perfect sense. Lightning coursed through his blood.

And for Qingsi, that affinity was a key.

In this world, ninjutsu was often reduced to mere technique—blast, burn, cut. But Qingsi saw deeper. He knew what chakra could become.

Lightning could evolve into magnetism, generate gravitational fields, manipulate electrons. Fire could move from heat to molecular acceleration, plasma control—even energy shaping.

"This world has mistaken chakra for magic," Qingsi mused."But it's just another form of physics."

He remembered—years from now, Kumogakure would create the chakra cannon, a weapon strong enough to obliterate the moon.

Not Konoha.

Not Orochimaru.

Kumogakure, the village most dismissed as brute and savage.

"Later," Fugaku said, "someone will bring you a few lightning-style scrolls. Don't choose anything too advanced. A D-rank technique will be enough for now."

"Yes, Lord Fugaku. I appreciate it."

Qingsi bowed slightly, his smile as calm as a still pond.

"Another chip added to the board," he thought.

"Alright, enough talk." Mikoto clapped her hands softly. "Let's eat before everything gets cold."

"Mm."

Qingsi scooped himself a bowl of rice.

To grow, one needed training.To sustain training, one needed nutrition.

As they ate, Fugaku and Mikoto exchanged a few casual stories. Occasionally, Fugaku would even crack a stiff smile at Mikoto's remarks.

Qingsi remained quiet, savoring the food and absorbing every word.

Half an hour later...

Mikoto and Seiji strolled back through the quiet Uchiha streets, their umbrellas tapping gently in the autumn drizzle.

"Misaki-san," Qingsi asked, "what's the usual retirement age for a ninja?"

Mikoto blinked at the unexpected question.

"Retirement?" she repeated, then smiled wryly. "Most don't live long enough to retire. But yes… if a ninja wants to retire, they can apply. If the village approves, they step down from active duty."

She was quiet for a moment.

"There are some Genin who quit early. The battlefield… it's not for everyone."

Qingsi nodded slowly.

"That's true," he thought."In Itachi's Team 2, there was a kunoichi—Shinko—who gave up being a ninja. She ended up serving tea in a shop downtown."

"There's no therapy for child soldiers.""No retirement fund for weapons."

This was a world where children wielded kunai and were expected to kill.

A world that broke minds long before bodies.

"But as for me," Mikoto added, voice lowering, "I may retire soon."

Qingsi's hand tightened around his umbrella.

"Itachi…""Is he about to be born?"

"Then, congratulations," he said aloud, smiling politely.

Inside, however, a creeping chill coiled around his heart.

"The timeline is moving faster than expected."

"When you get tired of the ninja world, Seiji," Mikoto said softly, "you can retire too."

He didn't respond right away.

They walked silently, the mist-wrapped night swallowing their footsteps.

Then Qingsi looked up at her.

At the woman who would one day birth a boy named Uchiha Itachi—the prodigy who would slaughter his entire clan to prevent a civil war.

"Is there… a way to stop his birth?"

His Sharingan pulsed faintly—red, subtle, dangerous.

Then he closed his eyes.

By the time he opened them, the red glow was gone.

"Fugaku…" Qingsi thought coldly, "You're nothing more than a hypocrite."

Fugaku gave him ninjutsu scrolls to win his favor—just like the Raikage sought to win him over with heritage.

It was all politics.All deals.

But Fugaku's worst sin was not betrayal—it was abandonment.

He never truly considered the outer Uchiha his family.

When Itachi struck, did Fugaku resist? Did he fight?No.

In the anime and Itachi's biography, Fugaku praised his son for following his own path. Even as blood spilled through the streets, Fugaku said: "You are still our pride."

He willingly died.He let Mikoto die.He asked only for Sasuke to be spared.

"And outside," Qingsi thought bitterly, "the corpses of the innocent still steamed in the night air."

Most Uchiha were civilians.Not everyone could awaken the Sharingan.Not everyone had a say.

But Fugaku chose to let them die.

"I won't be buried by this clan's twisted ideals," Qingsi swore.

He looked ahead, walking behind Mikoto.

He had much to consider.

And very little time.