"I told you to stop, you ugly aunt!"
Her small, pale fist flushed red as the veins beneath her skin tightened under the pressure of the strength she gathered. Without hesitation, she swung the punch the moment she reached her brother, her body moving swiftly to close the distance and place herself in front of him as a shield.
From the very beginning, Charlotte herself didn't realize it.
Her eyes had already changed from deep black into a blood-red hue, a single tomoe slowly spinning within. Her expression was far from stable. Fear and anger blended together, forming something volatile. Her long hair was in disarray, disturbed by her rushed movement as she chased after the adult woman who had gone after Ian instead of her.
Most of the remaining chakra in her body was drawn out and concentrated into that single fist. For high-level shinobi, this kind of control might not be anything remarkable. But for her, it was an extraordinary feat, something rarely achieved by a child her age. That unconscious control, triggered purely by overflowing emotion, revealed the depth of her natural talent as a prodigy, even among many members of the Uchiha clan.
The woman's face stiffened in shock. She had never expected the little girl to intercept her and protect her brother in such a direct way. A cold sensation crept along her spine when she saw Charlotte's blood-red eyes. She had already taken a few hits earlier, but this time, the sense of danger felt far more real.
The situation had changed.
She was truly in danger now.
But it was already too late.
Charlotte, still consumed by anger, threw another punch. This one was far harsher, far heavier than before. The force behind it exploded outward, sending the woman flying backward.
Thud.
Charlotte's fist slammed into the woman's abdomen with terrifying destructive force, reinforced by the chakra concentrated around her knuckles. The impact between their bodies produced a dull, explosive sound, strong enough to shake the opponent's internal organs.
The woman who had been called "aunt" was blasted away. Her body rolled and spun across the ground before finally stopping when it crashed into the trunk of a tree blocking her path. A faint cracking sound followed, the result of bone meeting solid wood at high speed.
Her body collapsed onto the ground and did not rise again.
Whether she was alive or dead, Charlotte didn't know.
She didn't even realize how much chakra was still gathered in her clenched fist. Her body moved almost entirely on instinct, releasing its full potential in a single moment when the image of Ian being hurt by that woman's madness flashed through her mind.
Charlotte drew a heavy breath. Air rushed harshly into her lungs as she tried to stabilize her uneven breathing. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her heartbeat still pounding hard, a clear sign that her body had yet to calm down.
"Sister."
Ian's voice came from behind, followed by a pair of small arms wrapping tightly around her.
Was he scared?
Charlotte wanted to turn around, but she held herself back. Part of her attention remained fixed ahead, wary that the woman she had thrown might suddenly rise if she let her guard down.
Ian's embrace tightened instead. His cheek pressed against her back, covered in soft linen cloth. The warmth of that contact felt grounding.
Yet, contrary to what she had assumed, Ian didn't seem afraid. If anything, he was trying to calm her, as if he understood that she didn't need to stay this tense.
"I'm okay, Sister. I'm really okay."
"You need to calm down, like Father said. Stay calm no matter what happens."
Charlotte remained silent, listening.
"You were calm and full of spirit when you hit that bad aunt earlier. But now you look so tense, like you can barely breathe."
Charlotte finally responded, though her vigilance had not completely faded.
"You're right, Ian. I'm sorry. I was just worried something might happen to you. How could I stay calm when I almost saw my own brother get hurt by someone I could easily take down before?"
"Thank you, Sis. I'm really okay now because you're so strong. You're stronger than anyone."
Hearing that innocent response, the tension in Charlotte's body gradually loosened. Her breathing slowly steadied, the heat in her blood subsiding. The pounding of her heart eased, returning to a calmer, more controlled rhythm.
Sensing the change, Ian slowly released his embrace. He stepped to her side and looked up, trying to get a clearer view of her face.
It looked messy.
Before the fight, Charlotte's long hair had been neatly arranged. Their mother was always strict when it came to cleanliness and appearance. But now, that pink hair no longer looked charming. Strands were tangled, some falling over the side of her face, others hanging down enough to partially block her vision.
Charlotte turned slightly when she realized Ian was already standing beside her.
Her brother's expression was filled with surprise as he stared at her.
But that didn't seem quite right.
Ian's gaze was too focused on her face, too intense for it to be simple shock from the fight. Maybe there was something strange about her current appearance, now that it had fallen into disarray. She didn't care much about such things herself, if not for their mother, who always demanded neatness and cleanliness.
She felt slightly confused by that reaction. It was as if something about her was off, or perhaps there was something wrong with her face.
Was Ian surprised because that bad aunt had been defeated so easily? Or because his sister had suddenly become that strong right in front of him?
Those questions circled in Charlotte's mind.
Ian moved first. He pointed toward Charlotte's face with a confused expression. There was a bitter edge in his voice, slightly trembling.
"Your eyes... your eyes... they're red..."
"..."
"I mean, they turned red. They weren't like that before. They were black."
"Red?"
So that was it.
Charlotte hadn't understood at first, but now it made sense. It had happened earlier, right before that woman nearly reached Ian. She only realized it now, after everything was over.
After teaching Ian a few basic movements, that woman who had collapsed earlier suddenly appeared in front of them and tried to approach with cheap persuasion.
Luckily, I know a few techniques from Father.
James had indeed taught her the basics of combat, adjusted to her body size. Nothing excessive, nothing forced. For physical training, aside from warm-ups, there were certain parts he still structured strictly. He wasn't the kind of father who trained his children carelessly just to make them look impressive.
He preferred to let them grow gradually, stacking their abilities bit by bit until they became something stable and controlled.
----
"Watch your footing, Ian. Lift it slightly when you swing."
Charlotte pointed with confidence, like a real instructor. One hand rested on her hip, while the other gestured toward Ian. To an adult, her posture would look both adorable and amusing. A young girl acting without hesitation just to appear capable.
"Hehe."
She let out a quiet laugh, lowering her head slightly as she tried to hide her satisfied expression.
On the other hand, Ian could only hold himself back. He followed the instructions, trying to learn something he wasn't even sure would work.
His sister spent more time with their father. As the older child, she had more chances to observe those private training sessions. What Charlotte showed now felt like the result of years of practice.
He didn't know that she had only learned all of this a few days ago.
Ian kicked to the side, then straight forward. His fists followed after his stance felt stable enough at the base.
"Hah..."
His breathing grew heavier. Each movement drained his strength. This was the first time he had done something this physically demanding, and his body was already warning him. He had pushed past his limit.
It hurt.
His joints ached as he shifted his footing to the side. Even so, he continued.
Is this what they call refreshing? It feels painful and exhausting, yet every successful movement brings a strange sense of satisfaction.
His thoughts sharpened each time his body moved. Compared to him, Charlotte's movements were far cleaner and smoother.
In the end, he lost his balance and fell. His body simply couldn't keep up anymore.
He sat down, trying to regulate his breathing.
"You're amazing, Sis. Your movements are so clean, and you don't even look tired. When can I be like that?"
His head lowered, his gaze falling to the ground beneath him. His attention drifted to the uneven patches of grass. That area had long been damaged by their father's training. Only small parts remained untouched, spared from footsteps and the effects of ninjutsu.
"What is it."
His thoughts were cut off when Charlotte's voice came from behind. He shifted his body and turned around.
"I'm tired, Sis."
"Then just rest. I'll carry you home later."
"Really?"
Ian's eyes lit up immediately. Not just because his exhaustion would be eased, but because his sister offered without him asking.
"Of course. Do you think your sister would let you struggle? I'm the kindest sister in the world."
"Yeah. The kindest and the strongest."
"You really know how to make me happy."
Charlotte sat down beside Ian. The two of them looked again at the marks left behind by the earlier fireball.
The split ground was still clearly visible.
Charlotte raised her hand and pointed toward the trench.
"Still not strong enough. I want more than that. A bigger fireball. Big enough to destroy a house."
Ian stayed quiet, listening.
"Big enough to bring down our house in a single strike."
He immediately turned his head.
Destroy their house?
It was fine to imagine that kind of power, but why their own house?
A chill ran down Ian's back. Not just because of her words, but because he imagined what would happen if their mother heard that.
That really sounded like something a villain would say.
"But Sis, why our house? Can't you use something else as an example?"
Charlotte chuckled and glanced at him.
"Because in this village, our house is the biggest. Perfect for measuring how strong your sister is."
"Try saying that in front of Mother."
Ian shook his head slightly. Charlotte added casually,
"Just kidding."
"..."
He fell silent. That joke didn't feel funny to him.
That was truly a terrible sense of humor.
Good thing Mother wasn't here.
Ian shifted his sitting position, then his gaze drifted to the side. An adult woman was walking toward them.
A woman who looked older than their mother approached them. Her appearance was dull and filthy, as if she hadn't changed clothes or touched water for weeks.
Did she fall into a pig pit in Father's farm?
Her pale face and reddish-brown hair only made her look worse. She resembled the beggars Ian had once seen when he followed his father to the nearest town.
Ian's innocent mind didn't immediately catch the oddity. He simply tapped his sister's shoulder and pointed toward the woman as a sign.
"Sis, that aunt is walking toward us."
"Where?"
Charlotte turned, following the direction he pointed.
"Is she a lost beggar? Why does she look like that?"
"Isn't it bad to judge people by their appearance, Sis?"
"I'm just being honest. Just look at her, she must smell awful. She doesn't look like someone who's ever bathed."
Charlotte slowly stood up. Something about that woman felt off.
She stepped forward, placing herself in front of Ian as a shield.
"Ian, step back. Let me deal with this beggar."
Ian obeyed without protest. He took a few steps back, staying behind his sister.
The woman, still dozens of meters away, stopped. She raised her hand in a gesture that looked like she was asking for help.
"Little girl, can you tell me where the nearest village is?"
Charlotte didn't answer immediately.
The woman continued, softening her tone.
"This aunt is lost and doesn't know the way home. Help me, and I'll reward you."
Her hand moved behind her back as if grabbing something, then returned to the front in a closed fist, as though hiding a small object.
"Look, I have candy in my hand. I'll give it to you after you show me the way."
Charlotte's expression hardened instantly.
She clearly remembered what her father had told her.
"Remember, don't trust people who suddenly act nice and offer something in return. Pay attention to your surroundings. If there are no other adults, just ignore them."
"..."
"And one more thing. Trust your intuition. If it feels wrong, then it is wrong. I'll handle the rest. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father."
The suspicious appearance and that cheap offer were too obvious. Charlotte finally understood why her father had repeated those words so many times. Other children might be easily tempted.
But not her.
She had been taught not to trust carelessly. On top of that, a bad feeling had already appeared the moment she saw the woman.
Her intuition only strengthened the discomfort.
Charlotte curled her lips into a small, mischievous grin.
"You're a bad aunt."
She pointed at the woman with complete confidence.
"You must be one of those bad adults who kidnap children. Father taught me to stay away from people like you."
The woman's expression changed.
But Charlotte didn't stop.
"You're ugly and you smell too. What kind of candy are you even offering? You can't even afford proper clothes. You're just a smelly aunt who never bathes."
She laughed after saying it, as if she had just said something amusing.
Ian was startled to hear that. He looked at his sister but chose to remain silent. He trusted Charlotte's judgment.
Meanwhile, the woman's face changed completely. There was no trace of pretense left. Her brows furrowed, her teeth clenched as she held back her anger.
"Your father raised you wrong. He turned you into a child with no manners. Let me take his place and deal with you. How foolish of you to trust that useless father of yours."
The woman stepped forward slowly. The atmosphere around her grew heavy, whether from the stench of her body or something deeper and unseen.
Thud.
A punch struck her stomach before she could react. Pain spread instantly as her body was forced backward and slammed onto the ground.
Then Charlotte's voice followed.
"Don't ever say anything bad about my father."