I Am Fugaku Uchiha

Fugaku had never considered these matters before, but a sudden insight struck him as he observed Nagato's Rinnegan today.

Perhaps, with his robust physical container, he could sidestep the risk of losing his sight and attain the coveted Mangekyō Sharingan.

Recalling how Madara had evolved from the Tomoe Sharingan to the Rinnegan, Fugaku contemplated the possibility of ascending to the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan on his own.

However, a lingering question remained: did he possess enough spiritual energy? Madara, who had reached the Rinnegan level, had only awakened and evolved his eyes with the aid of his brother.

While Fugaku brimmed with chakra, signifying his high physical energy, he pondered the nature of spiritual energy.

Was it linked to the speed of chakra recovery, ninjutsu release, or chakra control? In essence, the swifter he could extract and employ his chakra, the more potent his spiritual energy would be.

How could he release Ninjutsu faster? By simplifying the hand seals of ninjutsu or even eliminating them altogether, he could manipulate his chakra at will. That might be the way.

Contemplating how to enhance his ninjutsu speed, Fugaku considered simplifying or even eliminating hand seals.

This would enable him to manipulate his chakra more freely. Lost in thought, he stroked his chin, acknowledging that, though he had never experimented with this approach before, it was worth a try.

His chakra extraction speed was very fast, and his soul had crossed into this world; maybe his spiritual power was very high too. He didn't need to learn any seal-less ninjutsu, nor did he need any emotional stimulation.

Confident in his rapid chakra extraction and the strength of his soul in this new world, Fugaku chose not to delve into seal-less ninjutsu or seek emotional triggers. Seated cross-legged in his room, he embarked on the experiment to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan, his mental power sparking the activation of the Sharingan.

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Two days later, in a tavern nestled within the grass country, a white-haired man adorned in a kimono, a brush clenched between his teeth, sat in contemplation. His gaze remained fixed on the notebook before him, his expression clouded with deep thought.

Seated beside him was a stunning woman with flowing black hair and a youthful figure.

Clad in a low-cut dress that accentuated her ample bosom, she held a glass of wine, her eyes gleaming with intoxication. Leaning toward the white-haired man, she spoke in a slow, slurred voice, "Come on, cheer up. What are you writing?"

The white-haired man, seemingly indifferent to her advances, responded, "Is it possible to go with the flow of the times and aim to lead the world to an unprecedented, peaceful change?"

He furrowed his brows, contemplating a profound idea.

The woman, oblivious to his meaning, focused on the word "change" and pressed herself against the white-haired man, saying, "Nah, nah. If you want change, why not find peace with me?"

Resting her head on his shoulder, she exuded an enticing allure.

After saying that, she rested her head on the shoulder of the white-haired man, and her whole person was tempting him.

Smiling at her proposition, the white-haired man was about to respond when a disturbance erupted outside.

"You're cheating," a voice accusingly echoed through the tavern as a table was trashed, stirring the atmosphere.

"How can I accept this?" An enraged man sporting a grass ninja forehead protector shouted, directing his anger at a few individuals nearby.

As it turned out, a gambling session was taking place in the tavern, with more than a dozen people seated across tables, engrossed in betting.

The gambling den's guard was poised to intervene, but a sudden interruption halted the impending conflict.

"Wait a minute," a voice interjected.

All eyes turned to a white-haired man who confidently stepped onto the table in the midst of the crowd.

With a peculiar pose—hands raised, fingers spread—he declared, "I won this round."

The tension dissipated as laughter erupted at the unexpected turn of events.

Unfazed by the woman's advances, the white-haired man, revealed to be Jiraiya, turned his attention to the grass ninja and offered, "Let me buy you a drink!"

The ninja, confused but willing, accepted the gesture. Seated in a nearby spot, the two engaged in conversation.

"Damn, why is my life so miserable? I have to do farm work that I hate to revive my clan," the grass ninja lamented.

Jiraiya, taken aback, was about to respond when the ninja continued, seemingly discontent with the current state of the world.

Undeterred, Jiraiya smiled and suggested, "Come on, have a drink! I've been looking for my destiny for a long time, but I haven't found it yet."

However, the grass ninja remained absorbed in his troubles, stating, "It's no use looking for that anymore. Our clan alone can't compete with the ninja villages of the big countries."

Perplexed, Jiraiya wondered about the ninja's mindset. Was he merely a complainer? He chimed in, expressing annoyance with the grass ninja's negativity. "That's not true. I teach children how to face a tough world."

Dismissing the idea, the grass ninja retorted, "Do you think education can prevent war? Oh, don't talk nonsense."

Without hesitation, he threw a punch at him.

Jiraiya seamlessly vanished from his original spot, leaving the grass ninja slightly surprised. A body flicker? It occurred to him that Jiraiya was indeed a ninja.

In a swift reappearing act, Jiraiya materialized far away, already seated and holding his wine glass with a smile. "Maybe it can't, but maybe it can. Who knows? It will give them more choices," he responded, inviting a philosophical perspective.

Eager to delve deeper, the grass ninja interjected, "Then let me ask you, what is the so-called choice?"

Jiraiya's answer was succinct yet profound: "It's a choice between life and death, and the only thing I can teach is how to keep them alive."

This statement left the grass ninja with a furrowed brow, prompting him to sink into deep thought.

The Toad Sage's prophecy had not unfolded as he expected; he had believed Nagato was the chosen one, but doubts crept in after another summoning by the Toad Sage.

Sighing, the grass ninja rose from his seat, deciding to leave the tavern and continue his journey.

As he departed, the weight of uncertainty lingered in the air, and Jiraiya, with a contemplative gaze, knew that the path to finding the true peacemaker was fraught with twists and turns.

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Simultaneously, at the border of the grass country, Fugaku strolled along the road, a brand-new katana hanging at his waist. He sighed incessantly, contemplating the recent turn of events.

"I thought my spiritual energy must be enough, but I still overestimated myself," he mused, realizing that while his spiritual energy was substantial, it fell short when compared to the intensity experienced in moments of losing a loved one.

Despite this realization, Fugaku remained confident that his spiritual energy was potent enough to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan, just a small push away.

He recognized that he didn't necessarily need a personal tragedy to trigger the required emotions; a subtle stimulus would suffice.

However, deliberately creating this catalyst was beyond his control, and foreknowledge would render it entirely ineffective.

"Yasuo-sama, that… that…" Komeko, clutching her younger brother, hesitated. Her gaze met Fugaku's, and she paused.

Fugaku snapped out of his trance, regarding Komeko with a hint of puzzlement. "If there is something, just say it. You don't have to hesitate."

"That… it is… Don't you wonder, escorting me back, will there be any danger?" Komeko asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

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