Jogendra's POV:
The Uchiha compound was a whirlwind of emotions after I dropped the bombshell of my identity—Madara Uchiha's son, a ghost from a past he'd buried, now standing in flesh and blood. The air crackled with disbelief, curiosity, and something softer, something I hadn't expected: a flicker of familial warmth. My father, Madara, the stoic legend I'd once watched on a grainy TV screen, had shattered that image when he pulled me into a hug so fierce it rattled my bones. For a moment, he wasn't the Ghost of the Uchiha—just a man clinging to a piece of his lost love, My Mother Retsu. It was a scene that didn't fit the Naruto canon I knew, a jagged edge in this parallel timeline that kept me on my toes.
When Madara finally let go, his face softened, a rare serenity replacing his usual steel. My grandfather, Tajima, was a different story—beaming like he'd just won a bet against fate. "Hah!" he crowed, arms crossed with smug triumph. "Butsuma Senju doesn't even have a grandson yet, and here I am with one! Let the Senju choke on that!"
Izuna, my newfound uncle, grinned like a kid with a new toy, ruffling my hair with a playful roughness. "Looks like I've got a nephew to spoil rotten," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Better watch out, Jogendra—I'm the fun one."
The emotional storm settled into a quiet hum, purpose taking its place. My Father Madara straightened, his composure snapping back like a well-filed form. "Father," he said, turning to My Grandfather Tajima, "we need to call a clan meeting. Jogendra's arrival must be announced."
My Grandfather Tajima's brow arched, skepticism etching his weathered face. "Announce him? You think that's wise? Tongues will wag—why wasn't he raised here?"
My father Madara's jaw tightened, a shadow of unease flickering across his features. Before he could fumble a reply, my bureaucratic instincts kicked in—a reflex honed by years of dodging tricky questions in Hyderabad's government offices. "Tell them it was my mother's dying wish," I said smoothly. "My Mother Retsu wanted me kept away from the clan's wars until I turned ten. Now that I'm of age, I've come back to join my father."
My father Madara blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes, while My Grandfather Tajima stroked his beard, nodding slowly. "That… could work," he mused. "It's clean, honors the dead—no one'll dare poke holes in it."
My uncle Izuna smirked, clapping me on the shoulder. "Clever kid. You've got a head for this."
The praise warmed me, but before I could bask in it, My Uncle Izuna's expression shifted—concern creasing his brow as he turned to My Grandfather Tajima. "Speaking of clan business, what about the Fire Country Annual Youth Ninja Competition? We still don't have a candidate."
My Grandfather Tajima's face darkened, a scowl twisting his features as he rubbed his forehead. "No, we don't. Damn Butsuma Senju saw to that. While our main forces were tied up in Lightning Country, the Senju hit us—targeted our youth division, the bastards. Every promising kid we had—dead or crippled. No one's left to compete."
My ears perked up. A competition? I opened my mouth to ask, but My Uncle Izuna beat me to it, his eyes lighting up with a sudden spark. "Then why not send Jogendra?"
I froze, my brain screeching to a halt. "Wait, *what*?"
My uncle Izuna's grin widened, brimming with mischief. "Think about it—he took down five elite Uchiha shinobi like they were nothing. Third-stage Sharingan at ten? He's a prodigy. The competition's all about solo skill—he's perfect."
My Grandfather Tajima hesitated, his gaze flickering between pride and doubt. "But…"
My father Madara cut in, voice firm as iron. "No. Jogendra *will* compete."
We all turned to him, stunned. My Grandfather Tajima's eyes narrowed, probing. "You're sure? Just like that?"
My father Madara nodded, his stare unyielding. "He's our only option—and our best shot. If Jogendra wins, it's a slap to the Senju's face. They'll send a dozen candidates; we'll send one. One boy crushing them all? The political fallout would cripple their standing."
My Grandfather Tajima's scowl softened into a calculating grin, his fingers tapping his chin. "Hmm… and a victory would cement Jogendra's place here. No one'd question his voice in clan matters after that."
My Father Madara's gaze locked onto mine, steady and expectant. "Exactly. When he comes back a champion, he'll be untouchable."
I scratched my head, still catching up. "Uh… back up. What's this competition, exactly?"
My Father Madara's expression softened, just a fraction. "The Fire Country Annual Youth Ninja Competition—a tournament held every five years ones by the Fire Daimyō. Young shinobi from across the land of fire fight to prove their worth before nobles and clan heads. The winning clan gets prestige, favor, and a flood of mission contracts until the next event."
I nodded, piecing it together. A Chūnin Exam on steroids, minus the teamwork—pure combat, pure stakes. Then a stray detail snagged my attention, tugging at my anime nerd brain. "Wait," I said, leaning forward. "Was the last winner a guy named Deku Namikaze?"
My Father Madara's brow quirked, but he nodded. "Yes. The Namikaze clan's Swift Release—a Kekkei Genkai blending Wind and Lightning—makes them damn near untouchable. Deku's speed humiliated every opponent."
My eyes widened, gears grinding in my head. Swift Release? Namikaze? This wasn't the Naruto timeline I knew—no Minato, no Yellow Flash, just a parallel reality with familiar names twisted into new shapes. Deku Namikaze? Sounded like a mashup of Midoriya from My Hero Academia and a proto-Namikaze clan. This world was a remix, a historical drama with its own rules, and I was smack in the middle of it.
None of that changed the now, though. The competition loomed—a chance to prove myself, to turn My Mother Retsu's dream and My Father Madara's faith into something real. I straightened, meeting my father's gaze with a fire I hadn't felt since I'd wrestled a pension approval through Hyderabad's red tape. "I'll do it."
My Father Madara's lips curved into a rare, proud smile. My Grandfather Tajima clapped his hands, barking at a guard, "Summon the clan! Meeting in an hour!" My Uncle Izuna just winked, whispering, "Knock 'em dead, nephew."
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#### Uchiha Clan Meeting Hall—One Hour Later
The hall was a sea of faces—shinobi in black, civilians in muted grays, all buzzing with anticipation. Word had spread like wildfire: a mystery kid hauled in by Izuna, five elite guards flattened, whispers of Madara's son. The air thrummed with curiosity, skepticism, and a dash of hope as we stepped onto the raised platform—My Grandfather Tajima, My Father Madara, My Uncle Izuna, and me, the oddball centerpiece.
My Grandfather Tajima raised a hand, and silence fell like a guillotine. "Today," he boomed, voice echoing off the wooden beams, "I've called you to hear big news." He gestured to me, his grin sharp as a blade. "This is Jogendra Uchiha—my grandson, Madara's son."
The crowd erupted—gasps, murmurs, a few muffled sobs from women who'd clearly pinned romantic hopes on My father Madara. My Grandfather Tajima silenced them with a glare. "I know you're wondering why he wasn't raised here. His mother, Retsu, wished him kept from war until he turned ten. Now, he's returned to us."
Nods rippled through the room, though a few grizzled elders squinted, doubt etched in their wrinkles. My Grandfather Tajima pressed on, voice rising. "And Jogendra will represent us in the Fire Country Annual Youth Ninja Competition!"
The whispers surged again—shock, worry, excitement clashing like a storm. An elder stood, his voice quavering but firm. "Lord Tajima, what about the Senju attack? Our candidates are gone—how can a child carry our banner?"
My father Madara stepped forward, his presence a wall of resolve. "Jogendra took down five elite Uchiha alone. His Sharingan's at the third stage. He's no ordinary child."
The hall went still, disbelief hanging thick. Third stage at ten? Unheard of. I felt their eyes—some awed, some skeptical—boring into me. Slowly, the mood shifted, hope sparking in the silence. By the time My Grandfather Tajima dismissed us, the whispers had turned to cheers, curses against the Senju mingling with prayers for my victory.
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Jogendra's POV (Resumed)
Walking back with My Father Madara, My Grandfather Tajima, and My Uncle Izuna, the weight of it all settled on me—the clan's faith, My Mother Retsu's legacy, My father Madara's quiet pride. My old life felt distant, a faded form in a dusty file, replaced by this chaotic, thrilling now. A chime rang in my head, the System's crisp voice cutting through.
*Ding!*
*Host has accepted the quest: "Win the Fire Country Annual Youth Ninja Competition." Rewards will be granted upon success.*
A smirk tugged at my lips, adrenaline buzzing in my veins. "Bring it on," I muttered, ready to turn this parallel world upside down—one fight at a time.
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