Chapter 319: The Little Genius
"Your brother?"
Ragnar studied the small head peeking out from behind the tree trunk, those two enormous, vivid eyes blinking at him with undisguised curiosity. There was no mistaking those eyes. In the entire world of shinobi, Uchiha Shisui's eyes were in a class of their own—not merely for their size or their expressiveness, but for what they would one day become. The eyes that would awaken Kotoamatsukami. The ultimate genjutsu. The power to rewrite a person's very soul without them ever realizing they had been touched.
Everyone wanted those eyes. They were a trump card beyond compare.
"He's my little cousin. We're from the same lineage—my grandfather's line." Uchiha Mikoto smiled warmly and gestured toward the tree. The small head immediately revealed its full form, and little Shisui scampered over to grab Mikoto's arm, pressing close to her side with the unguarded affection of a child who adored his older cousin.
In the original timeline, Shisui had shown similar care for Uchiha Itachi. It was in his nature—this gentle, protective instinct that set him apart from so many of his clansmen. His lineage traced back to Uchiha Kagami, the pro-Hokage faction that had separated itself from the main clan's politics. Because of this, Shisui's family did not face the same discrimination and suspicion that plagued other Uchiha. His childhood environment was relatively harmonious. Peaceful. He was not infected by the negative energy that festered in the clan's darker corners.
But blood would tell. As he grew older, Shisui would develop his own perspective on the world. He would feel the weight of his clan's suffering and the village's fear, and he would believe—with all his heart—that he could bridge that divide. That his power could heal wounds that had festered for a century. That one young man's will could achieve true peace between Uchiha and Konoha.
That belief would kill him.
It was never discrimination or hatred that prevented peace. It was the human heart. Changeable. Deceitful. A thousand faces, none of them true. When real interests were at stake, blood enemies could drink together and call each other brother. And when those interests shifted, brothers could become enemies overnight. Shisui would learn this lesson too late.
"Mikoto-nee, who's this cold-faced big brother?"
Little Shisui stared at Ragnar, a hint of timidity in his enormous eyes—but more than that, curiosity. He had never seen his sister act this way around anyone before. And this tall stranger in black had an aura that was... different. Intimidating. Like standing too close to a cliff edge and feeling the pull of the void.
"Cold-faced big brother?" Mikoto's lips quivered with suppressed laughter. She glanced at Ragnar, whose expression had not changed in the slightest. "Well... it's not an inaccurate description."
To strangers, Ragnar did indeed give off that impression. Cold. Distant. Unapproachable. The invisible weight of his killing intent—restrained but never absent—created a natural barrier between him and the world. But Mikoto knew better. She had seen past that mask. Ragnar was not cold at heart. He was gentle in his own way. He killed, yes. He had drowned battlefields in blood. But his purpose had always been protection—of the village, of his comrades, of the people he cared about.
If Ragnar knew what I was thinking, she mused, he would probably tell me I'm overthinking it.
"His name is Ye Chen," Mikoto said, patting Shisui's head. "He's a very important person."
"This kid's eyes are really something," Ragnar observed.
"Grandfather says children with big eyes are the smartest!" Shisui declared with the absolute conviction of a child repeating adult wisdom.
"There's no doubt about it—Shisui is definitely the smartest." Mikoto flicked her cousin's forehead gently, her expression soft with affection.
Shisui clutched his forehead with both hands, his small brows knitting together in a tiny scowl. He was clearly brooding over the forehead flick, storing it away in his mental catalogue of injustices.
Ragnar watched the exchange quietly. Then his Observation Haki stirred.
Level 5 Kenbunshoku. Its range had expanded to five kilometers, its precision sharpened to the point where he could map the interior of a human body in three-dimensional clarity. It was not quite the Byakugan—it was more spiritual in nature, more attuned to chakra flow and intent than to physical structure. But at this level, it could perceive things that even experienced shinobi might miss.
And something about Shisui's chakra was wrong. Or rather, not wrong—just impossible for a child his age.
The boy looked three, perhaps four years old. At that age, most children from shinobi families were only beginning to sense chakra, if they could sense it at all. The actual refinement of chakra—the process of combining physical and spiritual energy into usable power—typically began at five or six, shortly before entering the Academy. Civilian-born children often didn't encounter chakra refinement until their first day of class.
Shisui had not only refined chakra. His reserves were substantial. Genin-level. Possibly higher.
Ragnar focused his Observation Haki, wrapping the boy in a cocoon of invisible perception. In his mind's eye, Shisui's body became a gray-white mirror image—a three-dimensional map of bone and tissue and chakra pathways. Starting from the heart, blue energy circulated through his system in a continuous, steady flow. And the most active area—the nexus where chakra pooled and pulsed with the greatest intensity—was his eyes.
The Sharingan.
Ragnar understood immediately. Every time an Uchiha awakened their Sharingan, both their ocular power and their chakra reserves experienced a surge. The tomoe were not just markers of visual prowess—they were indicators of overall development. One tomoe corresponded roughly to Genin-level chakra. Two tomoe to Chūnin. Three tomoe to Jōnin. The Mangekyō was Kage-level without question. Eternal Mangekyō pushed into Super Kage territory. And the Rinnegan... that was something else entirely.
Shisui had already awakened his Sharingan. There was no other explanation for his chakra levels. The question was whether Mikoto knew—and how many tomoe had manifested when those eyes first opened.
The more tomoe upon first awakening, the greater the talent. Indra himself awakened with all three. And from there, it was a straight path to the Rinnegan.
Ragnar filed this information away. A Sharingan prodigy, hidden in plain sight.
"Mikoto," he said, "this child is genuinely gifted. He has the potential to become an exceptional shinobi—the kind that leaves a mark on history. Someday, he'll contribute greatly to Konoha's future."
Mikoto's eyes widened. Praise from Ragnar was rare. Praise about someone else was almost unheard of. "You really think so?"
"I do."
"Did you hear that, Shisui?" Mikoto knelt down, her hands on the boy's small shoulders. "Ye-kun says you're going to be amazing. He's the strongest shinobi in Konoha right now. You should call him 'big brother.'"
And if Ye Chen takes an interest in Shisui, she thought privately, I might have an excuse to visit more often.
She had been considering leaving ANBU for some time now. The life of a covert operative was wearing on her, and she was not like Danzō's Root agents—ANBU members were permitted to retire, to transition back into the light. Orochimaru had done it. Kakashi would do it. Namikaze Minato had done it. With her connection to Uchiha Kagami's lineage, Mikoto would face no obstacles if she chose to step away from the shadows.
Shisui looked up at Ragnar with those enormous, galaxy-filled eyes. "Big brother Ye Chen?"
"That's right." Ragnar's voice was still cool, but something in it had softened—just a fraction. "Train hard. Listen to your sister. And don't let anyone tell you your eyes are a curse. They're a gift. It's up to you how you use them."
Shisui nodded solemnly, though the deeper meaning of the words flew entirely over his head.
They walked together through the streets of Konoha—Uchiha Mikoto on one side, Ragnar on the other, and little Shisui between them, still clutching his sister's hand. The evening light painted the village in shades of amber and rose. Pedestrians turned their heads as the trio passed. The girl was beautiful. The boy was striking. The child was adorable. Together, they looked like something out of a painting—a family of three enjoying an evening stroll.
Mikoto kept her head down, her cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fading sun. Her heart was beating faster than it should have been. She was acutely aware of Ragnar's presence beside her—the steady rhythm of his footsteps, the quiet authority he carried without effort. She wished this walk could last longer. Much longer.
But all walks ended. They reached the gate of her family's compound—the modest estate of the Kagami lineage, tucked away from the main Uchiha district. Ragnar stopped at the entrance.
"This is as far as I go."
"Oh." Mikoto tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. "Thank you for walking with us, Ye-kun."
"Take care of him," Ragnar said, glancing at Shisui. "He's going to be important."
Then he turned and walked away, his figure gradually swallowed by the deepening dusk.
Mikoto watched him go. The sigh that escaped her lips was soft and entirely involuntary.
"Sister?" Shisui tugged at her sleeve. His enormous eyes blinked up at her with the pure, unfiltered curiosity of a child who had noticed something but didn't quite understand what it meant. "Do you like the cold-faced big brother?"
Mikoto's face erupted in crimson. "Shisui! What kind of question is that?!"
"Your face is all red," Shisui observed helpfully. "And your heart was beating really fast. I could feel it. And you kept looking at him when you thought he wasn't looking. And you—"
"Bedtime! Now! Immediately!"
She scooped up the protesting child and fled into the compound, her dignity in tatters. Shisui's giggles echoed through the courtyard.
From the shadows of a nearby rooftop, Ragnar watched the door close behind them. His Observation Haki had picked up every word of that exchange. His expression remained impassive.
But the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then he, too, vanished into the night.
(End of Chapter)
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