Itachi Uchiha's son Shinra Uchiha

The dawn mist still clung to the valley's peaks when Shinra beckoned Boruto through the cracked stone gate. There was no ritual, no ceremony—just the hush of early morning and the weight of something ancient about to be awakened.

"I want to show you something," Shinra said, voice low. "Not taught in scrolls. You'll learn it—or break yourself trying."

Boruto's hand tightened on Sasuke's sword. He nodded—a simple signal. Then they stepped into the arena.

Shinra closed his eyes and drew chakra into his palms. Neither fire nor lightning twisted in the air—instead, a gentle flow of mist hovered above his hands, shimmering faintly green and red together. Boruto blinked. It looked like two currents—one organic, one elemental—melding into a single, fluid force.

Shinra spoke softly:

"Follow the current. Let it guide, don't drive it."

He sliced his hand through the air, molding the chakra. A blade-shaped wave of mist followed, not cutting, but parting the dust and grass like a silent ripple.

He repeated the gesture, faster:

* The mist condensed into the semblance of a whip.

* Then into a fan.

* Finally, he circled his palm, and the field trembled—small tremors, plants quivering.

Boruto stepped forward. "That looks like—Wood Release?"

Shinra opened his eyes. In one flash, they were black with red tint. "Bloodline gift. But I didn't learn it the usual way."

Boruto stared—Shinra had displayed *multiple bloodlines* in one breath. Uchiha, Senju, Uzumaki… impossible.

Shinra nodded. "Watch."

He reached toward a crumbled pillar. Mist condensed into roots that knotted the stone in seconds—binding, repairing, healing.

Boruto gasped. "You rewove stone like trees… that's—

"Hashirama's power," Shinra admitted quietly. "And far older than that. The flow I'm teaching comes from understanding when *not* to force change."

Shinra stepped back and rolled up his sleeve. Boruto's eyes caught a pale blush beneath his skin—like chakra pulsed close to the surface.

"Your turn."

Boruto settled his stance. He concentrated on chakra flow—no elemental flashy hand signs. Just breath and intent.

He thought of Sasuke's final words earlier that night, of Shinra's gloved lessons. He channeled gentle but firm, pulled from deep in his gut.

A tiny ripple:

* The grass quivered.

* The air pulsed.

Not instantaneous—slow, trembling.

Shinra watched with an unreadable expression.

Boruto tried again. Mist shimmered faintly at his fingertips.

Then he forced himself to stop.

Shinra nodded. "Enough. You felt it."

Boruto exhaled, shoulders shaking. "I almost see it."

"Precisely," Shinra said. "Almost."

Boruto sank to one knee. "Teach me the rest—like that."

Shinra knelt beside him and layered his hand atop Boruto's.

Chakra flooded through them. Boruto felt it—thicker, denser, deeper than he'd ever sensed. Like a promise of endless power… and warning.

"Uzumaki veins," Shinra murmured. "Endless flow, but you must know the dam. Without it—" he broke the quiet with a slight snap of fingers—"you drown in your own strength."

Before Boruto could process, Shinra's hand lifted. An eyebrow raised.

Boruto looked up. His gaze caught Shinra's sleeve rising again, and another flicker: a faint red Uchiha tomoe shimmered and vanished.

He stared. "You had—Sharingan?"

Shinra remained still. "Faint. But without intent, I don't let it surface."

Boruto's heart hammered. Uchiha, Uzumaki, Senju—he had them *all*.

Boruto drew his blade and performed one last cut. Instead of wind chakra, he let the chakra travel through the blade—like the early training. He struck the air.

There was a tremor.

Shinra's eyes flickered—blood-red pupils appearing just for a moment.

He sucked in a breath, stepped backward, and shook his head.

Boruto's excitement drained. "Is it broken?"

Shinra looked away, face unlit. "I... faltered."

Boruto frowned. "Why? You act like that never happens to you."

Shinra's jaw tightened. He closed his fist. "I forgot… I'm not built for this long. The more I push… the more I leak."

Boruto's stomach dropped. "Leak?"

Shinra gazed at the ground. "Power in too many veins. Bloodline echo. The more I use, the closer I edge toward breaking."

Boruto's pulse pounded. He closed his mouth.

They sat side-by-side in silence. Shinra fixed on the horizon.

"Why help me?" Boruto asked, voice soft.

Shinra didn't look over. "Because I sense your heart—unstable, yes. But real. Not trained for legacy. Born into it."

Boruto closed his eyes. The weight of what he was being offered—and what Shinra risked—expanded within him.

"Can you teach me the rest?" Boruto whispered. "The full flow?"

Shinra glanced at him and sighed, long and deep.

"Tomorrow. Tonight, you rest."

He stood and clasped Boruto's shoulder. "I've shed more than you know\... but that doesn't excuse me. You will learn."

Boruto nodded, feeling the reality of it all. He watched Shinra stride away—cloak drifting around him like a living shadow.

In the fading dawn, Boruto realized:

* Shinra had more power than any shinobi alive.

* But that power burned a fuse.

* And within that spark of destruction flickered something more human than any legend.