---
Year 62 of Konoha. Uchiha Compound. The garden. Dawn.
The sky was still gray.
Mali sat cross-legged under the maple tree. His spine was straight. His shoulders were relaxed. His chin was slightly down. His hands rested on his knees, palms up.
He did not move.
For one full minute, he simply felt the ground beneath him. The cold grass. The hard earth. The way his body pressed down and the world pressed back.
Then he began.
Breath through the nose. Slow. Deliberate. The air moved into his lower stomach first — below the navel, where the chakra core pulsed warm. His belly expanded. Then his chest. His shoulders did not rise.
Four counts in.
He held. Two counts. Soft. No tension in the neck.
Then out. Six counts. Long and thin. His stomach fell inward.
He repeated it. Twelve cycles. The rhythm was a metronome in his blood.
The Serpent Root Breathing. An ancient practice from the mountain yoga traditions of his world.
He had remembered fragments, because he couldnt perform that technique in his previous life, — now he was enough to reconstruct it, refine it, adapt it to this body.
After weeks of practice, the effects were undeniable. Calmer thoughts. Warmer hands. Steadier emotions.
When he opened his inner sense after the final cycle, the Lam chakra pulsed with a clean, even light.
He sat for a moment longer. Then he shifted his posture.
Full lotus. Spine perfectly straight. Tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. Hands forming a circle below his navel. Eyes half closed.
---
" These techniques are really magical, i dont know if this world knows about breathing yoga techniques,i only know information of senjutsu immortal beast frog snake and slug "
As uchiha mali stopped his practice, and drank a bowl of water.
He started running with weight on his body, and body felt heavy as something drowning him in water, but he kept going with his will.
" Mali, is here for practice"
" Uchiha depends on youngester !! "
" Hello uncle!! Greetings aunt ! ! "
---
The road outside the Uchiha compound stretched east toward the forest.
Mali ran. Bare feet on packed dirt. Breath steady. Two figures ran behind him — older, struggling slightly to keep pace.
Uchiha Isharo. Age eleven. Broad-shouldered and serious. He had joined Mali's farm crew three months ago.
His father was a Police Force officer who disapproved of his son working for a six-year old.
Isharo had stopped caring about his father's disapproval.
Uchiha Raka. Age ten. Lean and quiet. She rarely spoke, but she never missed a training session. Her parents were dead. The clan had assigned her to an aunt who barely fed her. Mali's farm provided meals. She stayed for the food. She remained for something else she didn't name.
"Faster," Mali said.
"We are not all built like oxen," Isharo panted.
"You want to be stronger? Run faster."
Raka said nothing. She simply increased her speed.
They ran.
---
The shouts reached them before the figures did.
"YOUTH!"
A blur of green exploded around the bend in the road. A man in a green jumpsuit. Bowl haircut. Thick eyebrows. His arms pumped at his sides. Sweat flew from his face like rain.
Behind him, a boy. Same jumpsuit. Same haircut. Same eyebrows. Smaller, but already running with the same manic intensity.
"YOUTH! YOUTH! YOUTH!"
They were sprinting. Not jogging. Not training at a measured pace. Flat-out sprinting down the road like they were being chased by death itself.
Mali stopped.
Isharo and Raka stopped behind him.
"What... what is that?" Isharo stared. His hand drifted toward the kunai pouch at his hip.
"The green beast of Konoha," Raka said quietly. Her voice was flat. "The Eternal Genin. Might Duy. And his son."
"The one they call the failure?" Isharo's tone carried the particular contempt of an Uchiha toward anyone who couldn't cut the standard shinobi path. "Why is he shouting about youth?"
The green duo drew closer. Duy's face was red. His breathing was ragged. But his eyes burned with something that had nothing to do with chakra or jutsu or bloodlines.
His son, Might Guy — a boy about Mali's age — ran at his heels. His small face was set in a grimace of pure effort.
As they passed, Duy's gaze flicked to Mali. A brief moment of eye contact. The older man's face split into a grin.
"YOUTH!" he shouted, as if the word itself were a greeting.
Then they were gone. Green shapes disappearing down the road. The shouts fading into the forest.
---
Isharo let out a breath. "That was bizarre."
Raka said nothing.
Mali watched the road where they had vanished.
[Might Duy. The Eternal Genin. A man everyone mocks. And his son Guy.]
His mind traced the anime memories. Duy would die. Years from now, he would open the Eighth Gate against the Seven Ninja Swordsmen and burn his body to ash. His son would become one of the strongest shinobi alive — a taijutsu master who could fight on par with Uchiha Madara himself.
[They're not weak. They're just invisible. The world doesn't see them until it's too late.]
"What do you know about them?" Mali asked.
"Nothing worth knowing," Isharo said. "Duy is a genin. He's been a genin for decades. The Village keeps him around out of pity."
"And the boy?"
"Guy. Same thing. No talent for ninjutsu or genjutsu. They'll never amount to anything."
Mali turned to look at Isharo. His expression was calm. Isharo flinched anyway.
"Don't underestimate them," Mali said.
"Why?"
" May be in future, you will know, let's start another lap "
Mali didn't answer. He resumed running.
But his mind was still on the green shapes that had disappeared down the road.
[The Eight Gates. That's their path. Open the limiters and burn the potential of the body.]
He respected it. He respected the raw, insane dedication it required. But he would not walk that road.
[The Gates are a suicide technique. They destroy the body from the inside. I'm not building this body just to tear it apart.]
His own path was different. The Hanma demon back was not a technique you activated.
It was a body you forged — slowly, permanently, through decades of stress and adaptation and recovery. It didn't burn you out. It built you up. Layer by layer. Until your very existence was a weapon.
[I need my own techniques. My own methods. Something that uses chakra without wasting it. Something that makes the body stronger, not just faster for a few minutes before death.]
The thought settled into him. A new goal. A new direction.
He would study. He would experiment. He would take what worked from yogic and taoism and immortal novel technique.
"Faster," he said.
Isharo groaned. Raka increased her speed.
They ran toward the uchiha ground.
---
Evening. The garden.
Takami was waiting. His henge was off. His dark hair was pulled back. His breathing was deep and even.
"You ran outside the compound today," the old man said.
"Yes."
" How was it ? "
" It looked like different from uchiha, they have full vibrant color and various parts of street so devoloped more than uchiha"
They sat together under the maple tree. The stars were coming out.
"Grandfather," Mali said. "I need scrolls. Anything the clan has on chakra manipulation. Body reinforcement. Medical jutsu theory. I need to understand how chakra interacts with muscle and bone."
"
Takami nodded slowly. "I will find what I can."
They breathed together in night moon, the moon light surrounding them, as if body shinning.
In the house, the twins were sleeping, and his parents are gone for mission.