---
"My name... Uchiha Madara!!"
The name echoed like thunder in Hoshino Kaede's ears, shaking something deep within him. It didn't just echo across the street—it thundered in his mind, crashing against every fragile sense of comfort he had been clinging to.
His steps slowed. His fists trembled.
That man... was Uchiha Madara.
Shura of the Shinobi World. The co-founder of Konoha. The future eternal rival of Senju Hashirama. The one who would shake the entire shinobi world with a single glance.
Kaede's eyes widened as the realization fully sank in.
He had exchanged words with him—challenged him.
And survived.
He replayed the encounter in his mind: the cold pressure that turned his blood to ice, the arrogance that bent the air around him, the disdain for weakness, and yet… a flicker of recognition.
A smirk that acknowledged him—not as a child, but as something with potential.
"Hmph… That day won't be far off," Kaede muttered, a glint of ambition sparking in his eyes.
Madara's arrival hadn't just been a surprise—it had been a lesson. A slap from reality.
For too long, Kaede had enjoyed comfort. A peaceful home. Loving parents. Konoha's security. But peace made people lazy. Contentment dulled the edge of the blade.
And Madara had reminded him that the shinobi world didn't allow slackers.
It devoured the weak.
---
Kaede walked home in silence, no longer humming or grinning, his thoughts heavy. The streetlights flickered against his small silhouette, which seemed somehow… denser.
He entered the house quietly.
Sakura Kinomoto, his mother, glanced up from the kitchen.
"Hmm? He's unusually quiet," she said, frowning slightly.
"Maybe someone picked a fight with him," Hoshino Yota guessed as he sat at the table. "He was happy earlier. Something must've happened outside."
She sniffed. "Probably bought that sword and realized I'll be waiting to scold him."
As her temper rose, her hair flared with it. Yota's instincts screamed, and he immediately got up and slipped out of the room.
"I'll go check on him!"
He knocked lightly on Kaede's door. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," came the response—short, calm.
Yota opened the door and found Kaede seated cross-legged on the floor, completely focused on a large scroll. His eyes scanned it with complete concentration.
Yota smiled. "You okay?"
Kaede didn't look up. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"…Alright. Just don't forget to rest."
Yota hesitated for a second longer before quietly backing out and closing the door.
Inside, Kaede exhaled softly.
The pressure of today's encounter hadn't broken him. It had sharpened him.
He returned to the scroll—his father's personal Ninjutsu archive.
The techniques recorded were formidable. B-rank, A-rank, and even a few whispers of S-class techniques—the kind not taught in the academy or shared with just anyone.
Kaede flipped through the list.
Fire Release: Dragon Flame Barrage
Lightning Release: Thunder Needle
Earth Release: Rock Tomb Binding
Then his gaze froze.
His pupils dilated slightly.
Flying Thunder God Technique.
He blinked.
What…?
The Flying Thunder God Jutsu—a legendary time-space Ninjutsu created by none other than Senju Tobirama, later perfected and brought to deadly heights by Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage.
It wasn't just advanced. It was forbidden. The kind of jutsu sealed away in Konoha's most protected vaults.
What's it doing here?
Before Kaede could process the implications, his father returned, catching the confusion on his face.
"You saw it, huh?" Yota said, walking in.
Kaede nodded, still stunned. "Why… Why do you have this?"
Yota chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.
"No need to panic. That scroll was sent by Lord Tobirama himself."
"Tobirama-sama… gave me this?!"
Yota nodded. "He said it might suit your abilities—especially with your… unique bloodline."
Kaede stared at the scroll again, then muttered under his breath.
"So he already knows how far my dojutsu goes…"
It made sense. Tobirama wasn't the type to overlook anything. The man had likely observed him the moment he showed potential. But still—to hand over this kind of technique…
Kaede clenched the edge of the scroll.
Flying Thunder God wasn't just a teleportation technique. It was a god-tier battlefield weapon. Learning it would take years—possibly a lifetime.
Only two men had ever mastered it.
And now it was in his hands.
---
Later that night, Kaede stood before Yota with a new request.
"Dad, can I have some training weights?"
Yota blinked. "Weights? What for?"
"I want to start physical training. I can't rely on Chakra alone."
Yota raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect you to take taijutsu seriously."
Kaede's eyes didn't waver. "Not just taijutsu. I want to strengthen my body. All of it."
Yota rubbed his chin.
"I think we've got some old gear in the storage room. Might be too heavy for you, though."
"I want to try."
Yota nodded, impressed by his son's determination.
They entered the storage room, and Yota retrieved a full weighted training set. Anklets, wristbands, torso harness—together, they easily added up to double Kaede's body weight.
"Be careful," Yota warned. "Don't overdo it."
Kaede didn't answer.
He reached for the weights and strapped them on, one by one.
The moment Yota let go, the boy staggered forward.
The sudden mass dragged him like an anchor. Sweat broke across his forehead instantly.
Kaede's face turned red. His breath caught. His knees trembled.
Yota reached out, worried. "Kaede—"
"I'm fine!" Kaede snapped, teeth clenched.
He took a step forward—and nearly collapsed.
Another step. Then another.
Slow. Strained.
The burden was immense. Every movement was a battle. His muscles screamed. His bones felt like they might crack.
But he didn't stop.
The sun overhead scorched him. Sweat fell like rain. He stumbled, tripped, got back up.
An hour passed.
By the end of it, he was walking. Barely.
But steadily.
Each step was slow, but no longer unbalanced. The weights didn't feel like death anymore—just challenge.
Yota watched from the side, eyes shining.
A proud smile formed on his lips.
Talent and perseverance. A rare combination.
And in his son… both were beginning to bloom.
---
That night, Kaede lay in bed, arms aching, legs burning.
But his mind was alive.
Uchiha Madara's words still rang in his ears.
"You're too weak."
He would change that.
Let the weights crush him. Let the jutsu burn him.
It didn't matter.
He would carry them all.
He would walk forward.
Until one day...
He
stood eye to eye with gods.
-------------------
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