Sure enough, talent is something that cannot be envied.
Yan was stunned for a moment.
It was true he had the advantage of foreknowledge and intelligence from another life, but setting aside those advantages, how could someone like Izumi display such rapid adaptability?
"For the use of the Sharingan, the clan has distilled generations of combat experience into valuable insights," he began, folding his arms. "Some excel in genjutsu, others in taijutsu. For some, the Sharingan becomes a tool of detection and tactical awareness. Others evolve it through a combination of genjutsu and kenjutsu…"
Genjutsu?
Izumi remained quiet. She was never particularly skilled in illusions. While her genjutsu may have been effective against outsiders, within the Uchiha clan, it was painfully mediocre.
Her talent lay more in taijutsu, though even that had not been extraordinary. Her kenjutsu was barely passable—her development seemed slightly off-balance.
"I've read your graduation evaluations," Yan said frankly. "Compared to genjutsu and kenjutsu, your proficiency in physical arts is above average. But that's the problem—it's too one-sided. Our clan's elite rarely possess such clear-cut weaknesses."
This wasn't a brag—it was fact. Among the Jonin, Uchiha shinobi were known for their balanced, fearsome strength across multiple disciplines. They had fewer vulnerabilities than standard shinobi.
In the grand scheme, when the elite of each of the Five Great Shinobi Nations were compared, the Uchiha stood firmly at the top.
In normal circumstances, when a hostile Jonin encountered an Uchiha Jonin on the battlefield, retreat was often their only option.
"You don't need to fall in love with genjutsu," Yan continued, his voice firm. "But you must at least learn to wield it efficiently. You're Uchiha—if you can't handle illusions, you'll become the clan's laughingstock."
"And kenjutsu is the same," he added. "It may not be your strength, but it cannot remain a weakness. The strongest Uchiha shinobi are always versatile."
"…"
Izumi felt like she'd returned to the Ninja Academy. Yan had become her sensei—not one who coddled, but one who laid down high expectations.
Only now, the lessons had evolved from academy fundamentals to the elite secrets of Sharingan utilization—subtle nuances not taught to outsiders.
Yan even personally demonstrated several entry-level genjutsu techniques, guiding her hand by hand.
By the time she made it home for dinner, Izumi was mentally drained.
At the Ninja Academy, she had been a prodigy. But under Yan's tutelage, she felt like an idiot, scolded from sunrise to sundown.
"Are you a pig?! Even the simplest genjutsu confuses you! Are you even Uchiha?!"
"Uchiha Izumi, where is your brain? Do you even have one? This is child's play—you can't even recall this much? Why not gouge your eyes out if you're not going to use your Sharingan?!"
Gentle, composed Yan had vanished. The moment he became her teacher, he transformed into a drill sergeant.
His verbal lashings left her reeling. Even Izumi began to wonder if she really was a pig. Failing such basic techniques—it was humiliating.
"Rough day?"
Ye Yue, her mother, noticed her daughter's fatigue and frowned in concern.
"Not really…"
Izumi forced a smile.
"The captain's health seems to have improved. He made a training regimen for me… and showed me how to properly use the Sharingan."
"Really?"
Ye Yue's eyes brightened in surprise.
"That's wonderful. I always knew Yan was a thoughtful boy—dedicated to the family. Even while recovering, he's thinking of you."
She looked deeply moved.
Izumi nearly rolled her eyes.
Sick in bed?
The captain was more energized than she was—especially when calling her a stupid pig.
"Quan,"
Ye Yue gently stroked her daughter's cheek, speaking softly,
"You and I returned to the clan midway. Many don't recognize us as truly part of the bloodline. You've received no guidance, no mentorship. But now you have this rare opportunity—make the most of it, okay?"
Other clan children with similar talents would've been groomed by elite Jonin. They'd have mentors from a young age.
Izumi had none of that.
She couldn't afford to waste this chance.
"Don't worry, Mom," Izumi whispered, her eyes misty. "I'll learn everything the captain teaches. I won't let it go to waste."
Even if he called her a pig.
Even if she cried from exhaustion.
Even if she was humiliated repeatedly.
She wouldn't give up.
She would study hard—no matter how painful or exhausting—she would endure.
Yan was surprised when Izumi returned the next morning, lively and humming to herself.
She even seemed cheerful.
Unfortunately, her mood didn't last long.
The moment training began, Yan's angry voice roared through the room again.
Although his scolding was relentless, Izumi's learning pace was astonishing.
She wasn't as freakishly talented as Itachi, but she was easily the fastest learner Yan had ever trained—even faster than he himself had been.
In that regard, Yan could only admit—innate talent truly had no limits.
Still, no matter how strong talent was, it couldn't compare to cheating.
With Yan on medical leave, both the Uchiha clan and the Konoha Police Force calmed down, but rumors of his illness still circulated. Those wanting to visit were blocked by Fugaku personally.
Meanwhile, at a bounty guild near the border of the Land of Fire, Kaze Uchiha kicked the doors open with a loud crash, striding in with confidence.
Even though he shattered the doors, the bounty guild staff didn't bat an eye.
One employee rushed forward, smiling warmly.
"Welcome, sir. Are you here to collect a bounty or issue a mission?"
In disguise, Kaze appeared as a scarred, dark-eyed wanderer with an indifferent glare.
"I'm here to sell information."
Excellent.
While bounty assignments were their primary trade, information brokering was far more lucrative—and highly valued.
Unlike bounties, which could only be claimed once, intelligence could be resold to many interested parties.
Kaze sneered and grabbed the staffer by the neck.
"The intel concerns high-level secrets from Konoha. Can you authorize the purchase?"
Yan had warned him—when dealing with criminals and black-market elements, the more arrogant he appeared, the more convincing he'd be.
Confidence was currency.
Even if it embarrassed him.
But he gritted his teeth. The captain's mission came first.
He couldn't fail.
"M-My lord, I'm just a desk worker! Please—don't kill me! I'll fetch the supervisor immediately!"
"Good."
He released the staffer, who collapsed on the floor gasping, then swaggered into a private room to wait.
Moments later, the supervisor arrived.
He was short and rotund with a grin that split his greasy face, hands wringing nervously.
"Sir," he bowed. "I oversee operations here. I assure you, our pricing for information is fair and well-compensated."
"I doubt you have the guts to buy what I'm offering."
"Now, now. Let's not joke."
The supervisor was no amateur—he had seen plenty of questionable business. If it made money, he'd do it.
Even if the info was sensitive, once acquired, it would be forwarded to the main headquarters for global resale.
And there was no way the Five Great Nations would risk war against all the bounty clubs over one leak.
"Fine."
Kaze dropped several scrolls onto the table with a thud.
The supervisor opened one.
After a single glance, the smirk vanished from his face. His eyes widened.
He gasped.
This was it.
A goldmine.
The content was explosive.
If publicized, it would send shockwaves through the entire shinobi world.
He didn't care how Kaze acquired it. He didn't even care if it was stolen from Konoha.
As long as the data was real, they'd take it.
Konoha's wrath wasn't their concern.
Kaze Uchiha, satisfied after a few days' rest, made it back to Konoha without issue.
"Captain!" he called, bursting into Yan's house. "The rumors aren't true, right?! They said you had a terminal bloodline disease!"
Yan looked up slowly.
"What do you think?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and extending his hand.
Kaze handed him the scroll.
Yan scanned it, nodding slightly.