CHAPTER 52

Kaleidoscope

The scarlet Sharingan spun furiously, scanning in all directions. Numerous Iwagakure shinobi emerged from the shadows, flanking the five-man Konoha team from both sides and ahead. Their encirclement tactics were swift and brutal, textbook Iwa maneuvers designed to crush opposition with overwhelming numbers.

The rear assault intensified, slowing the team's retreat. Black projectiles—shuriken, senbon, and kunai—filled the sky like a swarm of hornets.

"Hidden weapons incoming!" someone yelled.

Fugaku's eyes flickered crimson as sparks flashed. He weaved between the projectiles, Sharingan tracking every trajectory. His hands blurred as he deflected countless weapons with pinpoint precision.

A droplet of blood drifted into his field of vision—his worst fear realized. Someone was injured. Even with all his talent, Fugaku couldn't defend everyone. Without a Sharingan, it was near impossible to react to every attack.

He turned and saw bloodied wounds across Mitarai Akimitsu and Yamashiro Kiyokawa. Kiyokawa was clearly weakening, his chakra dimming.

Noticing Fugaku's gaze, Kiyokawa grinned through clenched teeth. "Just scratches. We're shinobi. We accepted death the day we got our headbands."

Fugaku's voice was cold and firm. "You'll live. I brought you out intact—I'll bring you back the same."

"Triangle formation," he commanded. "Protect Akimitsu and Kiyokawa in the center. Keep moving."

With civilians now evacuated from the battle zone, Fugaku calculated that the Iwa-nin would no longer hold back. A barrage of kunai embedded with explosive tags rained down—Fugaku hurled his own tagged kunai in retaliation. The air exploded with thunderous force as detonations tore through Iwa's ranks and the crumbling stone buildings around them.

Earth-style barriers erupted from the ground—Doton: Doryūheki—blocking debris and shielding the Iwagakure shinobi. Fugaku dashed forward. Blocking their path was a squad of Iwa-nin.

Shunshin no Jutsu.

He vanished in a burst of speed. The kunai in his hand glinted as it arced in a precise, deadly thrust.

These were rank-and-file Iwa-nin—not elite. Fugaku knew most powerful jonin would be on the front lines or in the village. The capital might have one, maybe two elite-level ninja. The daimyo's personal guard was likely of average jonin caliber—nothing that concerned him now.

The five Konoha shinobi surged forward. Fugaku's Sharingan guided his movements, reading muscle twitches and chakra fluctuations. He blocked attacks and struck back in perfect rhythm, kunai dancing like fangs in the dark.

A subtle pressure built behind his eyes. Something was changing.

Nearby, Hyūga Ning defended with his clan's Kaiten, deflecting all projectiles, while supplementing with precise strikes from the Jūken. The others, though skilled, were struggling—especially Yamashiro Kiyokawa, not suited to close combat. Fugaku repeatedly intercepted killing blows aimed at him.

For every Iwa-nin they downed, more came, swarming like ants.

Ninja feared overwhelming power—men like Sakumo Hatake and Minato Namikaze had once routed entire units. But in a close-quarters fight with even odds, fear faded. Only Fugaku remained dominant; the others were barely holding on.

Blood soaked their uniforms. Even Fugaku, with his Sharingan, had taken hits. He was only fourteen—his body not yet at its peak.

Yamashiro Kiyokawa was pale, bleeding from multiple wounds.

Fugaku pulled his kunai from another Iwa-nin's chest. His vision trembled slightly—but not from exhaustion. The Sharingan... it was shifting.

A black swirl formed in the center of his pupil.

Two smoke bombs burst at his feet—filling the area with thick smoke. While others would flee, Fugaku advanced. His Sharingan had already memorized every position, every chakra signature.

Screams followed.

Another surge—his eyes pulsed. The transformation neared completion.

Outside the smoke, Hyūga Ning and the others had broken past the outer perimeter, escaping the capital.

Fugaku used Shunshin again and reappeared beside them.

Behind them, the enemy was still in pursuit, but the four were clearly at their limit. Their movements were sluggish, drained by blood loss and fatigue.

"I'll hold them back. You four move. Leave a summoning crow in Kiyokawa—guide me if needed."

They hesitated. Fugaku growled, "You're barely alive. Another fight and you'll die without even taking one enemy with you. Go!"

They nodded silently. Their eyes, once skeptical of Fugaku's leadership, were now filled with respect—the kind that only forms on the battlefield.

Fugaku turned to face the approaching wave of Iwa-nin alone.

His Sharingan spun wildly—then shifted.

Three tomoe revolved faster and faster before converging at the center. A pitch-black pupil appeared, shaped like a spinning pinwheel—the Mangekyō Sharingan.

Two thin trails of blood streamed down his cheeks. It was a familiar curse among his clan: the Mangekyō brought power, but also pain.

He immediately deactivated it, returning to the standard Sharingan.

Now was not the time to reveal it.

If word spread that the Uchiha clan possessed a Mangekyō again, the fragile balance in Konoha would tilt. Many clans still remembered Uchiha Madara. Jealousy and fear would bloom like weeds.

"A secret blade is sharper than a drawn one," Fugaku thought.

But the power—he felt it coursing through him. His chakra swelled. His illusions sharpened. What had once been a wooden sword was now a blade of steel.

Then, a figure approached—swift, assured.

Fugaku narrowed his eyes. He knew that face.

Huang Yan, elite jonin of Iwagakure, renowned for wielding both Fire and Earth Release, and a deadly blade.

The man sneered. "Uchiha brat. Brave, but foolish. You think you can stop this flood by yourself?"

He turned to his subordinates. "Chase the others. I'll handle this one."

Fugaku stared him down. "Then come. But you'll regret underestimating the Uchiha."

He formed a rapid string of seals.

"Katon: Gōka Mekkyaku!" — Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame.

A massive torrent of fire surged from his mouth, scorching the earth, igniting the air. With the Mangekyō's power enhancing his chakra control, the technique reached a level beyond its usual B-rank limitations.

"Water-style users, step forward!" Huang Yan roared.

Even Earth-style wouldn't suffice here—only Water Release could combat that inferno. White steam exploded into the sky as water collided with fire.

In the midst of that clash, Fugaku stood firm.

He was no longer just a promising young captain.

He was now a wielder of the Kaleidoscope Sharingan—and the battlefield would remember his name.