c6: The First Senior Homitz
When they returned to the defensive sector overseen by the Uchiha clan, the clansmen were still in the process of clearing the battlefield. The surroundings bore the unmistakable marks of combat charred soil, shattered terrain, and scorched tree trunks, with lingering traces of fire-style and lightning-style ninjutsu.
Looking around, the once-dense forest around Mount Kikyo had been devastated. The lush greenery now looked like a giant bite had been taken from a verdant cake. The once-continuous canopy in the distance was riddled with gaps, like chunks of foliage had been torn out, and thick smoke continued to curl from the scorched earth.
Smoke also rose from Kikyo City, located just behind Mount Kikyo. Many houses had either been completely reduced to rubble or partially collapsed. Intact structures were rare, and even those were riddled with cracks and scorch marks.
Although the battle for Mount Kikyo lasted barely more than half a day, it had been overwhelmingly fierce and destructive.
Konoha's casualties were significant, and simply repairing Kikyo City would demand considerable resources from the village treasury, not to mention the manpower.
Despite the Uchiha clan's role in repelling the invading forces, none of the returning Uchiha shinobi wore expressions of triumph. Their faces were grim, and deep sorrow flickered behind stoic eyes.
Gen Uchiha, impacted by the somber mood of his kin and the desolate atmosphere, maintained a composed expression. It was hardly the time or place to feel satisfaction.
"Captain, I'm back."
Uchiha Yashiro, seated on a patch of grass with one arm in a sling and his head lowered in exhaustion, looked up at the voice.
Upon seeing Gen Uchiha whom he'd long considered a prodigy return unharmed, a flicker of relief passed through his eyes, though his tone remained composed and authoritative.
"Good. Join the others in the cleanup."
"Yes, Captain."
Gen Uchiha bowed slightly before taking his leave. He didn't mind Yashiro's coldness such was the typical demeanor within the Uchiha clan.
The Uchiha clan, known for its pride and the burdens of their kekkei genkai, often projected an air of arrogance. Among their own, it was less pronounced, but to outsiders, this attitude made them seem self-serving and aloof.
This was one of the key reasons why, even within Konoha, the Uchiha were viewed with suspicion and kept at arm's length. People naturally distanced themselves from those perceived to be self-centered regardless of their strength or loyalty.
During battle, raw emotions were laid bare. But when peace returned, the clan reverted to their usual restraint stoic, dignified, and unwilling to show weakness.
Still, not all Uchiha were cold or consumed by the Sharingan's curse of hatred. Ordinary clansmen led relatively normal lives, unaffected unless they were awakened or scarred by personal tragedy.
Efficiency ruled a ninja's life, and the battlefield cleanup proceeded swiftly. As the clan also bore responsibilities through the Konoha Military Police Force, the Uchiha were among the first to retreat from the frontline and return to the village.
But returning didn't mean rest. They were tasked with escorting civilians from the shelters back to the village and ensuring security along the way.
By the time all duties were complete, the sky had long since darkened.
The Uchiha shinobi, weary from both combat and post-battle tasks, made their way home. Some remained on active duty, working through the night until their shifts ended at dawn.
Gen Uchiha, still part of the frontline combat unit and not yet affiliated with the police force, was exempt from night duty. As a recognized genius, he was granted some leniency and allowed to rest.
Once home, Gen removed his flak jacket, shin guards, and undershirt stripping down the layers of a soldier before changing into loose, comfortable home clothes.
Having fought from the previous night through the entire day, sustaining himself only on ration pills and water, his stomach now growled with hunger.
Too tired for an elaborate meal, he opted for simplicity steaming a pot of white rice, stir-frying shredded potatoes with sliced pork, and pulling out a side of spicy pickled radish.
Gen Uchiha never skimped on self-care. As long as he had time, he refused to eat poorly. While he was far from wealthy, his inheritance and clan dividends especially after awakening his Sharingan placed him solidly within what one might call the "middle class."
In the warmly lit dining room, Gen quietly enjoyed his food. Suddenly, a wave of sobbing drifted in through the open screen window.
He paused, looking out in the direction of the Uchiha compound.
Bad news must have arrived.
It wasn't just the Uchiha. Tonight, the entire Hidden Leaf would likely echo with mourning. Even without exact figures, the brutal nature of the fighting made it certain that Konoha had sustained heavy casualties.
Gen exhaled softly and resumed eating.
People were like iron; food was like steel. Skipping meals wouldn't change the facts, and exhausting one's mind with endless worry would only lead to collapse. Eating and living were still necessities.
After the meal, Gen had no desire to clean up. He set the dishes to soak in the sink, washed himself, and headed to bed.
The night passed in silence.
He held no official leadership post and had no political ambitions. Some matters were simply not for Gen Uchiha to worry about at least not yet.
…
After a good night's rest, Gen Uchiha woke early the next morning, rejuvenated. He prepared a light breakfast miso soup, grilled rice balls, and pickled vegetables then washed the remaining tableware from last night before stepping outside.
Since it was still early, the streets of the Uchiha compound were nearly deserted. Only a few returning patrolmen from the Konoha Military Police Force were seen walking back, their expressions weary from an all-night shift.
"Gen, heading out this early?" asked one of the tired officers, adjusting the strap of his utility pouch.
"Going to the forest for training," Gen replied calmly.
"You're really diligent. As expected of the clan's young genius."
"Thanks. You should go rest. You've had a long night."
"Yeah. Later then."
With a short nod, Gen watched the officer leave before exiting the Uchiha district, heading alone toward the dense forest at Konoha's edge territory often used by the Uchiha for training. It bordered the Fire Country wilderness, but the land was marked as safe for shinobi exercises.
Once he reached a clearing surrounded by verdant canopy, Gen wasted no time. He swiftly formed hand seals, channeling chakra with precise control.
Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!
(Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!)
From Gen's mouth, a massive sphere of roaring flames burst forth, rolling forward like a wheel of searing chakra. It collided with the forest floor, incinerating grass and bark alike.
Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!
(Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!)
Fūton: Daitoppa!
(Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!)
Wind stoked the flames, amplifying the inferno until it consumed the training ground. The fire roared with life, a brilliant orange tide reflecting across Gen's focused gaze.
He pressed forward, combining his Fire and Wind chakra natures with increasing proficiency. His goal wasn't just devastation it was precision. His control over smoke dispersion reduced the chance of being discovered by ANBU or patrol shinobi.
Only after his chakra reserves had dwindled did Gen halt. Before him, a sea of fire surged and danced, its heat distorting the air like a mirage. He nodded with silent satisfaction.
The flames were created through chakra transformation—powerful, but susceptible to fūinjutsu techniques like those wielded by Rinnegan users or the Uzumaki clan's sealing methods. But Gen wasn't concerned. This vulnerability would be short-lived.
Once the Homitz his creation consumed natural fire, its flames would become closer to those used in Sage Mode techniques: untouchable by basic sealing jutsu.
The chakra fire could be absorbed, yes but natural fire was a different element altogether, akin to the holy flames wielded by certain Sannin or Tailed Beast hosts.
"Come forth, my child!"
With anticipation gleaming in his eyes, Gen exclaimed softly.
He reached into his own chest, focusing inward until his hand phased through his body. From within, he drew out a fragment of his soul, along with a significant portion of his life force manifesting as a radiant sphere of pure white light. It shimmered, pulsing like a miniature sun.
With a shout, he hurled the glowing orb into the heart of the inferno.
For a moment, the fire stilled then twisted, rippled, and began to form a face. A deep, guttural laugh echoed out, wild and primal. The sea of fire compacted, sucked inward until it condensed into a single burst of radiant light that shot toward Gen.
All that remained was scorched earth, still steaming but devoid of flames or smoke.
Gen extended his left arm, and the stream of light slowed before landing in his palm, revealing its form.
A red-scaled dragon, about a foot long, curled delicately in his hand. Its appearance was fantastical antlers like a deer, a camel-shaped head, rabbit-like eyes, a serpentine neck, the belly of a mirage beast, scales akin to a koi, claws like an eagle, tiger-like palms, and ox-shaped ears. Despite its feral origin, it looked strangely adorable.
"Master," it greeted, looking up with intelligent, mature eyes. Though small, its voice was deep and resonant.
Gen smiled.
"You want a name?"
"I do."
"Then from today forward, your name will be Zhu Rong."
BIG MOM's flame Homitz was called Prometheus—a god from Western myth who stole fire. His own creation, birthed from soul and flame, deserved no less than a god's name. Zhu Rong, the ancient fire deity from Chinese legend, was fitting.
"Zhu… Rong. Zhu Rong. That's my name," the fire dragon echoed, savoring it.
"Zhu Rong, from now on, unless I say otherwise, don't speak or reveal yourself. I'm not strong enough yet to show you to the world."
"I understand, Master."
Gen admired Zhu Rong's obedience and intelligence, but then paused with a sudden realization. How exactly was he supposed to carry something like this?
A ninja pouch wouldn't do—it was too cramped. Loose robes might hide Zhu Rong, but those would restrict movement during missions. This wasn't just a tool or summon; Zhu Rong was a living extension of his soul, more intimate than any future child. He couldn't afford to mistreat it.
"Zhu Rong, is there a way you can stay with me without being seen?"
"Our souls are linked. I can fuse with a specific part of your body. My physical form will become a dormant seal, and I'll rest there until you call for me. No one will notice."
So it could do that too?
No wonder One Piece never showed Homitz hiding—BIG MOM had no reason to. She never had to conceal her power.
"In that case, stay on my left forearm."
"Yes, Master."
With a shimmer, Zhu Rong vanished. Gen felt a faint warmth on his left arm. He rolled up his sleeve—and gasped in awe.
A vivid tattoo of a coiled fire dragon had appeared on his forearm, the scales glowing faintly with chakra.
"Incredible…"
With genuine admiration, Gen smiled and turned to leave the training grounds.
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