Another Boring Uchiha Power Fantasy.

The road south was warm and dry and nobody was trying to kill them.

Mikoto walked at the front. Shikaku walked behind her with his hands in his pockets. Inoichi and Chōza brought up the rear, shoulder to shoulder, moving slower than usual. The soreness from a week of unconsciousness was still present. Every step loosened it a little. Every step also reminded them that their bodies had been put back together by their sensei and were still comprehending the fact that they worked.

The outpost was behind them. Haruna had seen them off at the gate with a smile and a wave. The newly reinforced walls rose behind them, fresh brown earth against the grey sky, and then the treeline swallowed the view and it was just forest and road.

They walked in comfortable silence for the first hour. The birds were loud. The sun was out. Chōza ate trail rations that Mikoto had packed and offered them around. Shikaku declined. Inoichi took two.

Chōza swallowed a mouthful of dried meat and looked at Mikoto’s back.

”Oh yeah. Mikoto-sensei.”

”Hmm?”

”I forgot to tell you. I activated it.”

She glanced over her shoulder. The Sharingan caught the light, red against her dark hair. ”Activated what?”

”The breathing thing. The Seven Heavens.” He said it casually. ”First Activation. During the fight with the jonin.”

Mikoto stopped walking. She turned around fully.

”You activated the First Activation?”

”Yeah.” A grin spread across his face, wide and proud. ”First one to do it too. Not Shikaku, not Inoichi. Me.” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. ”Chōza Akimichi. First to activate the Seven Heavens Breathing Method.”

”He did,” Shikaku confirmed without looking up. ”His eyes went white. Yellow aura. He hit the jonin hard enough to break his arm.”

”I broke a jonin’s arm, sensei.” Chōza was beaming. ”With one hit. As a genin!”

Mikoto’s face broke into a proud and warm smile.

”Chōza, that’s amazing.”

”I know, right?!”

”I’m so proud of you.” She put her hand on top of his head. He was almost as tall as she was now and she had to reach a little. ”When we get settled at camp, I want you to show me. All of it. The breathing pattern you used, how it felt, everything. If you can do it again, I can study it with my Sharingan and figure out how to better teach it to everyone.”

”I can do it again for sure.” he nodded. No hesitation.

”Then we’ll make time.”

Inoichi leaned toward Shikaku. ”He’s never going to shut up about this.”

”You’re telling me...”

”I broke a jonin’s arm,” Chōza said again, to no one in particular. ”With one hit.”

”We heard you the first time!” Inoichi said.

”And I’ll say it again. I broke a jonin’s arm. With. One. Hit.”

”What a pain in the...” Shikaku murmured.

They walked on.

…

Base camp looked the same.

The tents, the mud, the smell of rice and rain-soaked canvas. Sentries at the perimeter who nodded as Team Mikoto passed through. The mess tent with its smoke curling up through the trees. The sound of someone sharpening a blade somewhere behind the barracks.

Mikoto left the boys at the barracks to stow their gear and headed for the command tent.

Takeda was behind his desk. Same desk, same scrolls, same tired expression. He looked up when she entered and his eyes went to her face and stayed there.

”Mikoto,” he said. Then he paused. ”Your eyes.”

”Sharingan, sir. I awakened it during a sudden ambush at Outpost Eleven.” She said with a little bit of Uchiha pride.

He leaned back in his chair. His brow furrowed. He looked at the report on his desk, the one that had been sent ahead by Haruna’s courier. He looked back at Mikoto.

”The report says your genin survived. All three of them.”

”They did.”

”I thought the Sharingan only awakened through loss.”

”I don’t know much about the specifics, sir. It happened during the fight.”

He studied her for another moment. Then he shrugged. He had too many problems to spend time on one that was working in his favor.

”A stronger Uchiha is better for us,” he said. ”And the fact that those three are still breathing is even better. Do you know who those genin are?”

”My students.”

”They’re the heirs of the Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi clans. If they’d died on a supply escort under a chunin’s watch, I’d have three clan heads week asking questions I don’t have good answers for.” He pulled the mission report from the stack and opened it. ”The engagement at Outpost Eleven has been reclassified. Your team’s mission has been bumped from C-rank to A-rank based on the threat level encountered.”

”A-rank, sir?”

”Enemy company operating behind friendly lines with a coordinated assault on a Konoha position. That’s not a C-rank mission. Your team’s pay will reflect the reclassification.”

Mikoto bowed. ”Thank you, sir.”

”Don’t thank me. You earned it.” He closed the report. ”I’m glad you made it back safe, Mikoto. All of you. You’re going to come out of this stronger than ever.” He set the report aside. ”Rest up. Spend time with your team. I’ll call for you when something comes in. And don’t forget to submit your own report about what took place.”

”Understood, sir.”

She turned to leave.

”Mikoto.”

She stopped.

”Haruna sent a separate note with the courier-nin. She vouched for you. For your record.”

Mikoto’s chest tightened. ”I’ll have to thank her next time I see her.”

”You’ll have to earn it. Vouchers are promises. Don’t make her look foolish.”

”I won’t, sir.”

She left.

…

The next three days found their rhythm.

Mikoto woke before dawn. Weights on. Run the perimeter. Shark Skin out in the clearing, forms in the dark, the sword heavy and alive against her palms. The Sharingan made everything sharper. She could see her own chakra flow reflected in the dew on the grass, watch the way her muscles fired in sequence during a swing, catch flaws in her kenjutsu that she’d never noticed before. She corrected them. Her forms tightened. Her transitions shortened. Every morning she was a fraction faster, a fraction better.

Then the boys woke up and she was their sensei again.

Physical conditioning came first. Laps, push-ups, sit-ups, squats. She ran with them, the weights burning against her calves. Chōza’s stamina had taken a step forward since the outpost. The near-death, the recovery, the First Activation, something in the combination had pushed his body past a threshold. He lasted longer before gassing out. His recovery between sets was faster.

Inoichi trained with his chakra blades every morning. He’d taken to wearing them on his belt instead of in his pouch, the grips accessible at his hips, and his skill with them was growing faster. Mikoto sparred with him using a kunai in each hand, letting him feel how he should be wielding and using them.

Shikaku’s earth nature had progressed. His leaf split cleanly in half now, the crack running through the center with a decisive snap. He was close to moving on to the second stage, generating the transformation faster and in larger quantities.

Inoichi’s water nature was solid. His leaf soaked through completely in under ten seconds. Mikoto started him on shaping exercises, pulling water from a cup and holding it in the air above his palm. He could hold a sphere the size of a marble for about five seconds before it collapsed. He was getting better.

Chōza’s earth was catching up. His leaf cracked halfway through now. Stubborn but improving.

Genjutsu recognition and breaking continued. Mikoto placed them under stronger illusions during sparring, mid-fight, without warning. A shadow shifting the wrong way. A sound from the wrong direction. A kunai that wasn’t really there. Their times of recognition and breaking free were getting better. Shikaku caught them in under a second. Inoichi the same. Chōza in two, sometimes three.

The Seven Heavens demonstration happened on the second morning.

Mikoto cleared the genin back to the treeline and stood across from Chōza in the center of the clearing. Her Sharingan spun slowly, each eye tracking a different aspect of what she was about to see.

”Whenever you’re ready.” She told him with a gentle smile.

Chōza closed his eyes. He planted his feet. His hands hung loose at his sides.

He breathed in.

The oxygen filled his lungs in a rush that Mikoto could see with the Sharingan, the expansion of his chest, the flood of air saturating his blood, the way his circulatory system responded as the oxygen levels spiked far beyond what normal breathing produced. His lung capacity swelled. His blood moved faster, carrying the excess oxygen to every muscle fiber in his body.

His eyes snapped open. White. No pupils, no irises, just smooth blank white.

A yellow aura flickered around him. Faint at first, a shimmer in the air like heat rising off stone, and then it steadied into a constant glow that outlined his body. His muscles tightened. His posture shifted. He looked bigger, though his body hadn’t changed size.

Because he had.

Mikoto watched every detail through the Sharingan. The breathing pattern, the oxygen intake rate, the way the energy distributed through his body, the physical changes in his muscle density and response time. She committed it all to memory.

”Hit the tree,” she said. ”The thick one.”

Chōza turned and drove his fist into the trunk of the largest oak at the edge of the clearing. The bark caved. The trunk groaned. A crack ran up the wood from the point of impact and the tree leaned back an inch before settling.

Shikaku and Inoichi stared from the treeline.

”That’s the First Activation,” Mikoto said. ”Five times boost in power. Strength and speed increase. Eyes go white, yellow aura.” She walked over to Chōza and put her hand on his shoulder. ”Release it.”

Chōza exhaled. The aura faded. His eyes returned to normal. He blinked a few times, slightly dazed at the decrease in power.

”How was it?” he asked.

”Perfect.” She turned to the other two. ”I saw everything.” She looked at all three of them. ”Now I can better help you guys. I saw the path the energy took through his body and now know the proper path for First Activation.”

”Can I skip out, sensei?” Shikaku asked.

”No.”

”What a drag...”

”A drag that could break a jonin’s arm…” Chōza pointed out.

”I guess that does sound cooler.”

…

Mikoto walked into the medical tent on the first afternoon.

Ren was at the far end, her hands glowing green over a man’s shoulder. She didn’t look up.

”You’re back, huh?” she glanced at her.

”I’m back.”

”I heard about the outpost. And the Sharingan.” Her hands moved along the patient’s deltoid, finding the tear, sealing it. ”Congratulations. I suppose that means you’ll be learning even faster now.”

”Actually, I was hoping you could show me the Chakra Scalpel jutsu.”

Ren’s hands paused. She looked up. Her eyes went to the red in Mikoto’s.

”You want to copy it.” she realized.

”I want to learn it. The medical application. I know what the Sharingan can do, but I’d rather learn it from you properly.”

”And the Sharingan will fill in the gaps.”

”Probably.” She looked sheepish.

Ren looked at her for a moment. Something between resignation and amusement crossed her face.

”Fine. Watch.” She turned back to the patient. 

Tiger. Horse. Rabbit. Rat. Dog.

A blade of chakra formed along the edge of her fingers, so fine it was nearly invisible. She drew it along the patient’s shoulder, and the skin didn’t part. Nothing visible happened on the surface. But beneath the skin, the Sharingan could see the torn muscle fibers being separated with hairline accuracy, the damaged tissue isolated from the healthy, the incision so clean it might have been drawn with a pen.

”The Chakra Scalpel creates a blade of chakra that cuts internally without breaking the skin,” Ren said while she worked. ”Surgical use. You need to feel the difference between the Mystical Palm’s healing flow and the Scalpel’s cutting edge. Same chakra, different shape, different intent.”

Mikoto watched. The Sharingan recorded every detail. The shape of the chakra, the density, the way Ren’s control shifted at the transition point between healing and cutting. The exact amount of chakra required, the angle of emission from the fingertips, the way the blade maintained its edge inside the body without damaging anything it wasn’t aimed at.

”Your turn,” Ren said, stepping back.

Mikoto weaved through the hand signs. The chakra condensed along her fingers. Thinner. Sharper. She shaped it the way she’d seen Ren shape it, the Sharingan providing the template, her Perfect Chakra Control providing the execution.

The blade formed perfectly.

Ren watched it for three seconds.

”Of course,” she scoffed. She turned back to her supply shelf. ”Of course you got it in one try.”

”Thank you, Ren-sensei.”

”Don’t thank me. You were going to learn it whether I showed you or not. At least this way I know you learned it correctly.” She pulled a roll of bandages from the shelf without looking at Mikoto. ”Beds three through eight need assessment. Get to work.”

”Hai, sensei.”

Mikoto worked the medical tent for two hours. The Chakra Scalpel opened a new layer to her practice. Where the Mystical Palm healed broadly, the Scalpel let her work with a level of detail that felt like the difference between painting with a brush and painting with a needle. She could isolate damaged tissue and make incisions inside the body for procedures that would have required cutting the patient open otherwise. Something she was certainly not taught about.

The Sharingan made it something else entirely. The combination of the Chakra Scalpel’s cutting edge and the Sharingan’s sight turned her hands into instruments that Ren couldn’t match, not because Ren lacked skill, far from it. But because Ren couldn’t see what Mikoto could see.

She didn’t say this out loud. Ren knew. They both knew. Neither of them mentioned it.

…

Takeda started testing her on the second day.

”B-rank,” he said when she reported to the command tent after morning training. ”Border patrol along the northeastern sector. Reports of Iwa scouts probing our lines. Confirm or deny their presence, mark their positions, report back. Do not engage unless engaged.”

”Understood, sir.”

”Solo. Your genin stay here.”

She left before noon and was back by nightfall. Three Iwa scouts confirmed, their positions marked on a map she’d drawn from memory, their patrol pattern noted and timed. She hadn’t been detected. The Sharingan’s chakra perception had let her spot them from distances they couldn’t have anticipated, and her own stealth training had kept her invisible.

Takeda read the report. He nodded.

The next morning, another.

”Escort duty. A Konoha intelligence officer is moving between relay stations with sensitive documents. You’re his shadow from Point Six to Point Nine. He doesn’t know you’re there. Nobody does.”

She shadowed the officer through fifteen kilometers of forest without being seen by him or the two sentries he passed. She identified and avoided three potential ambush points along the route, marked them for Takeda’s review, and confirmed the officer’s safe arrival at Point Nine.

Takeda read that report too.

The third day, another.

”A missing supply convoy. Last contact two days ago on the western trade road. Find it. If it’s bandits, handle it. If it’s enemy action, assess and report.”

She found the convoy overturned in a ravine where a section of the road had collapsed from heavy rain. No enemy action. No bandits. Just bad terrain and worse luck. The drivers were sheltering under the wagons. She stabilized the one with a broken leg, organized the salvage of what supplies could be carried, and led them to the nearest outpost on foot.

Three B-ranks in three days. Each one a different type. Reconnaissance, protection, recovery. Takeda was checking her range, seeing if the outpost performance was a one-time thing or if the girl could actually operate at a level above her rank consistently.

She certainly could.

…

The mornings belonged to the boys.

Mikoto trained them before dawn every day. They stretched, they ran, they fought. She sparred all three of them at once, Sharingan active, and the difference was noticeable. She could see their attacks forming before their muscles committed, read the chakra shifts that preceded a jutsu, track three bodies simultaneously without losing any of them. She never pulled her punches. They adapted faster since she could heal them.

The breathing exercises became a fixed part of the routine. All four of them sat cross-legged in the clearing, eyes closed, working through the patterns Mikoto had refined after watching Chōza’s activation with the Sharingan. Deep inhales that pushed the lungs past their comfortable limit. Held breaths that forced oxygen saturation. Controlled exhales that regulated the flow.

Chōza could activate the First Stage on command now. He’d breathe in, hold, and the white eyes and yellow aura would flare to life like a switch being thrown. Stable. Consistent. He couldn’t hold it for long, maybe thirty seconds before the strain started showing, but the activation itself was clean.

Shikaku and Inoichi were just one moment behind. They could feel the threshold, the point where the oxygen intake crossed from normal breathing into something more, but neither could push past it yet. Mikoto didn’t rush them.

”It took Chōza a life-or-death moment to break through,” she said. ”I’d rather you find it in training.”

”So we just keep breathing?” Inoichi asked.

”You keep breathing. And one day it’ll click.”

”Training like this again really makes me remember how nice it is not dying.” Shikaku said, eyes still closed, breathing pattern steady.

“I feel the same, actually. I thought I wanted exciting missions like protecting princesses, beating bad guys, saving the innocent. But after our last mission, this is pretty freaking nice.”

“I don’t know. I’m a little excited to use Seven Heavens in the field.” Choza spoke for himself.

“Even after spilling your guts?” Inoichi grinned.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be so scared if a situation like that happens again. I’ll definitely be ready this time.” Choza nodded.

“I’m terrified.” Shikaku dryly stated. “I want to continue training forever. And then when I’ve reached my limit, then I can go on missions.”

Inoichi, Choza, and Mikoto laughed. Wouldn’t that be nice?

…

On the fourth morning, Mikoto sat with them after training. The sun was coming up through the trees. The clearing was warm. Chōza was eating trail rations. Inoichi was practicing with his chakra blades. Shikaku was lying on his back staring at clouds.

Mikoto looked at them. Three boys who had almost died two weeks ago. Three boys who were stronger now than they’d been before the outpost, in ways that had nothing to do with jutsu or technique.

She smiled.

A runner appeared at the treeline.

”Mikoto-san! Command tent!”

She stood. She dusted off her knees. She looked at her genin.

”Let’s go see what they have for us.”