Naruto: Starting as the Third Hokage with Tears in His Eyes

"That's good."

Mikoto Uchiha's voice softened unconsciously, as if she were coaxing Itachi, who had just turned one month old.

"From now on, treat this place as your home." She freed one hand and pointed towards the two-story wooden building at the end of the street. "See that? The one with the windmill, that's our home. If you have any difficulties, just come and knock on the door anytime."

She paused for a moment, then added, "Come during the day. Itachi is easily woken up at night, and Fugaku will get angry."

"Thank you, Lady Mikoto."

Uchiha Mine bowed deeply once again, bending at an excessively large angle.

Mikoto smiled and waved her hand, then picked up her shopping basket and continued walking.

A new batch of tomatoes arrives at the directly operated store at 3 PM; if you go too late, only the misshapen and cracked ones will be left.

After walking seven or eight steps, she still couldn't help but glance back.

The boy remained standing in the same spot, watching them go. The afternoon sun slanted in from the direction of the towering wooden building, casting a long, thin shadow on the bluestone pavement.

The shadow was as thin as a bamboo pole.

Mikoto withdrew her gaze and quickened her pace.

...I need to cook more rice when I get back.

---

At the organic farm's directly operated store, that batch of tomatoes did indeed sell very quickly.

Mikoto picked out six of the plumpest ones, and then grabbed a bag of rice labeled "Special Supply for Hokage No. 1". After hesitating for two seconds, she turned around and went to the butcher shop to cut up a pound and a half of Konoha pork belly.

The cashier, a girl from the Akimichi family, blinked: "Mikoto-nee, you bought so much meat today?"

"A young family member with a big appetite has come to visit."

Mikoto smiled but didn't explain further.

She walked out of the store carrying a heavy shopping basket, just as a tram was clanging along Hokage Avenue, its side painted with a slogan written by Danzo himself: "The flame of construction will never be extinguished."

The handwriting is very ugly.

But nobody said anything.

---

The process of Uchiha Mine integrating into the clan's territory was much quieter than Uchiha Fugaku had anticipated.

There were no conflicts, no frictions, and not even a single thing worth writing in a report for the garrison.

This only made Fugaku even more puzzled.

But he couldn't find any fault with it either.

Every morning, as soon as the sun peeks out from behind the viewing platform on the east side of the Tongtian Wooden Building, the boy has already begun training in the small courtyard assigned to him.

Push-ups, sit-ups, and running laps around the yard.

The most basic physical fitness exercise.

The movements were clumsy, but repeated very earnestly.

The old lady next door once peeked through a gap in the bamboo fence and told a neighbor who was visiting, "That child's arms were shaking as he practiced, but he still insisted on continuing."

The neighbor chimed in, then shook his head, "What a pity."

After physical training, Feng Shui practiced shuriken in a corner of the courtyard.

He made the target himself out of scrap wood, and drew a crooked circle on it.

If three out of ten shuriken are thrown, that would be considered an exceptional performance.

Of the remaining seven shots, some landed on the ground, some flew over the wall, and one almost hit the quilt that the old lady next door had hung out to dry, scaring her so much that she chased him for half a street with a broom.

From then on, before each practice session of shuriken, Feng would first respectfully apologize to the old lady next door and ask her to bring in the laundry that was drying in the sun.

The old lady scolded him a couple of times, then turned around and brought out a bowl of red bean soup. "Drink this before you start practicing! You're as skinny as a bamboo pole; you'd fall over in the wind."

Uchiha Mine held the bowl, revealing an apologetic smile.

He drank the red bean soup very slowly, sipping it little by little, as if afraid of missing any of the sweetness.

The bowl was filled with light, and he stood up and bowed deeply to the old lady.

Then he went back to throw the shuriken.

He continued to hit three out of ten shots, leaving every member of Konoha's Anbu facepalming.

---

Outside of training, Uchiha Mine practically turned himself into an inconspicuous brick in the clan's territory.

We'll move it wherever it's needed.

After the garrison training ended, he squatted by the water tap on the side of the field, folding and stacking the towels one by one. This job was originally done in shifts, but recently, I don't know when, he has been doing it all by himself.

"You don't need to come every time."

The young Uchiha member on duty picked up a towel, wiped his face, and casually said, "This is what we should do."

"It's okay."

Feng folded the last towel into a square and placed it on top, saying, "Anyway, I don't have anything else to do."

He spoke in a calm, neither humble nor arrogant, tone, and even with a hint of embarrassment.

The teammate glanced at him but didn't say anything more.

Every evening, the tram's arrival bell rings on time in the streets of the ethnic area.

That was the last bus coming from the direction of Hokage Avenue, and there was always a group of clansmen getting off work at the Tongtian Wooden Tower on it.

Wearing work clothes covered in dust, they walked home in groups of three or five, chatting about how many cubic meters of concrete they had poured that day, or complaining that Danzo had changed the blueprints again.

The summit was standing on the street corner, waiting for them to pass by.

Then he bent down and picked up the fallen leaves they had trampled.

Nobody asked him to do that.

---

What truly made the younger generation of the Uchiha clan take notice of Mine was one afternoon.

Several boys of similar age from the clan were practicing Fire Release techniques in the open space of the training ground.

The most fundamental of all techniques—the Great Fireball Technique.

This is the coming-of-age ceremony for the Uchiha clan, the first ninjutsu that every member must learn.

Feng crouched behind a wooden stake at the edge of the training field, watching from afar.

He didn't approach or speak; he just squatted there quietly, his chin resting on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on the orange-red flames spewing from the boys' mouths.

Like a puppy crouching by its kennel, watching other kids play with a ball.

"Feed—"

A young Uchiha named A-Cheng was the first to notice him.

Acheng wiped the lingering heat from his lips and waved to him, "Come here, what are you standing there for?"

Uchiha Mine's body visibly stiffened for a moment.

He looked around, seemingly trying to confirm whether the other person was calling him.

"You!"

Ah Cheng grew impatient. "Who else? Come here, I'll teach you."

Feng stood up, dusted off his pants, and jogged over.

He ran over with small, quick steps, as if afraid of making too much noise and disturbing others.

Acheng demonstrated the hand seals to him.

Feng followed along three times, and the order of his fingers was all correct, but he made each mark very slowly, like a child who had just learned to read tracing characters.

"Alright, alright, give it a try."

The boy took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, and forced the chakra down his throat.

Then--

"puff."

A tiny flame, smaller than a fist, emerged from his mouth, flickered twice in the air, and was barely larger than a lighter flame.

The training ground was silent for a full second.

Then, the boys burst into laughter at the same time.

"This...this is called a Fireball?!"

"This is at most called... a 'giant fireball'!"

"No, no, this is called a low flame; it won't even light a barbecue grill!"

Feng's face flushed red, from his neck all the way to his ears, and his lips were pressed tightly together.

But he didn't run away.

He stood there, head bowed, silent for a few seconds, then raised his hands again—

Forming hand seals.

Inhale.

"puff."

Another flame, smaller than a fist.

The laughter subsided a bit.

Forming hand seals.

Inhale.

"puff."

the third time.

No one laughed on the training field anymore.

Acheng stood to the side, watching this guy who was covered in sweat, whose arms were trembling, but who just wouldn't stop. The smile on his face slowly disappeared.

On the fourth time, Feng's legs buckled and his knee hit the ground.

He supported himself on the ground, panting for a while, his sweat pattering onto the soil, leaving a small dark stain.

Why are you working so hard?

Acheng's tone had lost its teasing edge.

Feng raised his head, wiped his face haphazardly with his sleeve, leaving a dusty mark.

He grinned.

Her teeth were very white, forming a stark contrast with the gray on her face. There was no grievance or resentment in her smile; it was so clean that one didn't know how to respond.

Yesterday evening,

Feng's voice was still panting, broken and intermittent, "I saw an old man on the street... getting off the tram..."

"His work clothes were covered in dust... but he smiled and told the person next to him... 'I poured three more cubic meters of water today...'"

"I think...that's amazing."

Acheng blinked.

"So I also want to become...someone who is useful to this place."

Feng lowered his head, staring at the water stain on the ground where his sweat had seeped out.

Even if it's just a little bit.

The training ground was quiet.

In the distance, the bell of a tram arriving at the station rang out, its tinkling sound carried on the evening breeze.

Acheng reached out his hand.

"One more time."

"This time, let your chakra sink down, don't let it all get stuck in your throat."

Uchiha Mine paused for a moment, then reached out and grasped A-Cheng's hand.

He stumbled as he was pulled up.

But they managed to stand firm.

---

That night, Feng returned to his small courtyard.

He closed the door and drew the curtains.

In the dimly lit room, he sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he slowly raised his right hand, palm facing up.

His fingers were slightly curled, and his five fingers were as steady as if they were cast from iron.

There was no tremor.

These hands were completely different from the trembling hands he had on the training field during the day.

He remained in that position, staring at his hands for a long time.

Outside the window, scattered laughter drifted from the streets of the tribal area; someone was shouting "barbecue, barbecue!" and there were sounds of children chasing and playing.

Uchiha Mine lowered his hand, pulled back the covers, and lay flat on the bed.

He closed his eyes.

Those black eyes showed no emotion in the final moment they closed.