Konohagakure Year 49.
After school, Itachi walked quietly along the path.
He didn't head straight home, choosing instead to train for a while in the small grove.
Though he had already become the top student in his first-year ninja class,
his father's expectations stretched far beyond that.
He needed to push harder.
In fact,
he planned to learn the Shadow Clone Technique tomorrow.
That way, he could free up more time for training.
Entering the grove,
he arrived at his usual practice spot.
Itachi set down his backpack and pulled out several shuriken.
The surrounding trees bore targets he'd set up earlier, positioned in unconventional spots—
some hidden among leaves, others half-visible from certain angles, and even a few behind tree trunks.
Yes.
Ordinary shuriken practice no longer challenged him.
Itachi knew his limits extended far beyond this.
Swish, swish, swish—
After taking a deep breath, he released the shuriken.
They traced elegant arcs before embedding themselves in the bullseyes.
Itachi frowned.
"One missed..."
Eight of the nine shuriken had struck dead center.
Yet he remained unsatisfied.
A missed target meant a surviving enemy.
On the battlefield, enemies who lived after your attack spoke volumes.
"Need better force control."
Quickly diagnosing the issue, he crouched and leaped toward the untouched target—
positioned mid-trunk on a thick tree, about five meters high and well-concealed.
Staring at the target, Itachi began calculating adjustments for his next throw.
Huff!
Huff!
Huff!
Suddenly, rhythmic breathing interspersed with blade whistles caught his attention from nearby.
As a seasoned trainee, Itachi immediately recognized:
Someone else was practicing here—
not shurikenjutsu, but likely kenjutsu.
A flicker of curiosity crossed his eyes.
This grove belonged to the Uchiha clan.
Though the clan had multiple training grounds, few ever came to this secluded area.
He'd chosen it for solitude and to prepare for future shadow clone-assisted training.
Yet another practitioner?
Intrigued, he hesitated before deciding:
"I should greet them."
Though potentially intrusive,
gathering intel about future training neighbors aligned with ninja principles.
Following the sounds,
his small frame flickered through the trees toward the source.
He didn't reveal himself immediately,
instead observing from leafy cover.
As guessed—
a girl practiced basic sword slashes.
Around five or six years old, wearing a long skirt with her hair in a neat ponytail that swayed with each swing.
Itachi's gaze lingered briefly on the restless strands before shifting to her blade.
Clearly a novice,
yet she wielded not a practice wooden sword,
but an ancient-looking katana with delicate craftsmanship.
"Another soul burdened by expectations..."
Itachi sighed inwardly.
He understood this plight too well.
His father's expectations loomed like a towering mountain—
driving him forward while crushing him beneath their weight.
Ordinary training could never meet such standards.
Hence this secluded grove and training regimens far beyond his years.
"Who's there?!"
Abruptly,
the girl whirled toward his hiding spot mid-swing.
Startled by her sharp perception,
Itachi calmly descended from the tree.
"Hello. I'm Uchiha Itachi. I train nearby."
"My apologies for disturbing you."
His tone carried genuine remorse.
The apology also let him properly see the girl's face—
rosy lips, willow-leaf brows furrowed in wary curiosity rather than fear.
Her gaze gradually morphed into something... peculiar.
"You... are Uchiha Itachi?"
She asked skeptically,
her voice ethereal—unlike typical girls' chirpiness, yet uniquely captivating.
Itachi nodded. "Yes."
"Do you... know me?"
Her frown deepened.
Instead of answering, she uttered four cryptic characters that would haunt Itachi forever:
"Grass mud horse..."