Chapter 4: The Mortal Limit
The sun hadn’t even crested the horizon when the sliding door to Ren’s bedroom snapped open with a violent crack.
Ren jolted awake, tangling himself in his small blanket.
Fugaku stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim morning light. To Ren’s sleep-blurred vision, the man looked like a demon straight out of a sealing scroll. The dark circles under his father’s eyes were prominent, and he was radiating a heavy, oppressive chakra that practically suffocated the room.
He’s going to kill me, Ren thought, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Get up," Fugaku ordered, his voice dangerously calm. "We are training."
Ren blinked. "It’s dark."
"Enemies do not wait for the sun, Ren. Get up."
Ten minutes later, Ren stood in the center of the Uchiha training yard, shivering in the brisk dawn air. He barely had time to yawn before the sky spun wildly out of view and the ground rushed up to meet his face.
Smack.
He ate a mouthful of dirt.
Fugaku hadn’t hit him—he wasn’t actually trying to hurt the toddler—but he was moving with terrifying speed, tripping the boy up, tossing him around, and making absolutely sure Ren hit the ground every time he tried to stand.
"Your stance is atrocious," Fugaku barked, crossing his arms. "Get up."
Ren spat out a mouthful of dust, glaring up at the clan head. "You’re doing this on purpose!"
Fugaku’s right eye twitched violently. "Shinobi do not make excuses. Again."
He swept Ren’s legs out from under him before the boy was even fully upright. Ren hit the dirt again, groaning loudly. This wasn’t training. This was the petty, exhausting revenge of a man running on zero sleep and absolute maximum sexual frustration.
Ren rolled onto his back, refusing to stand up. "Child labor! Tyranny! I’m a political prisoner!"
On the edge of the training yard, the sliding doors to the main house opened. Mikoto stepped out onto the porch, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot. She knelt gracefully on the wooden planks, pouring herself a cup.
She looked at Fugaku, who was practically vibrating with repressed anger, and then looked at Ren, lying in the dirt like a starfish.
Taking a slow sip of her tea, she didn’t say a word, but her shoulders shook slightly as she hid a deeply amused smile behind the rim of her cup.
"Get off the ground, Ren," Fugaku demanded, his patience completely evaporated.
Ren turned his head and spat a tiny pebble into the grass. I can do this all day, old man. Your bloodline ends with my laziness.
Fugaku pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, ragged breath. He didn’t drop the boy again, but he kept him out in that yard for another two hours, making him run laps until his tiny legs felt like jelly.
By the time he was finally allowed inside for breakfast, Ren realized exactly what Fugaku’s strategy was. The man wasn’t trying to make him a ninja. He was trying to drain his stamina so completely that he would sleep through the night.
Not a chance, Ren swore to himself, aggressively devouring his rice. I will hold the line.
By midnight, the line was breaking.
The house was completely dark and entirely too quiet. Ren crouched in the hallway outside his parents’ bedroom, shivering slightly in the draft.
He pressed his face against a tiny crack in the sliding door to verify if they were doing the deed.
If I hear even a whisper of romance, I’m barging in there claiming I threw up, he plotted, fully prepared to internally critique his dad’s stamina like a sports announcer if it meant ruining his night.
But his body was actively sabotaging him.
Toddlers need sleep. It is a biological imperative. No matter how much willpower he possessed, his mortal limits were rapidly closing in. His eyelids felt like they were made of lead. His head kept nodding forward, snapping him awake just before his forehead hit the wooden floorboards.
Stay awake... he chanted in his head, pinching his own arm. If you fall asleep... Itachi gets conceived. You die. Stay... awake...
He pressed his face against the doorframe, trying to listen.
Nothing. Just the sound of the wind.
Maybe they went to sleep... his exhausted mind supplied helpfully. Maybe it’s safe to close my eyes... just for a second...
His forehead rested heavily against the wood. The floor suddenly looked incredibly comfortable. He hugged his knees to his chest, letting out a soft, defeated sigh.
His stamina simply ran out. From all the training Fugaku had made him do whole day, he had no energy left in him. The heavy, suffocating darkness of sleep dragged him under, and he passed out right there in the middle of the hallway.
Ren didn’t hear the sliding door open an hour later.
He didn’t feel it when Fugaku stepped right over his snoring body. And he certainly didn’t hear the definitive, terrifying click of the bedroom door locking from the inside, finally giving his father the uninterrupted peace he needed to relieve his massive stress.
When Ren finally woke up, sunlight was streaming through the hallway windows. He was lying in a puddle of his own drool on the floorboards.
He sat up, his back aching, and rubbed his eyes.
The bedroom door slid open.
Mikoto stepped out. She looked absolutely radiant. She was humming a soft, cheerful tune, her skin glowing with the kind of relaxed, deeply satisfied energy that only comes from a very, very successful night.
A moment later, Fugaku walked out behind her. His shoulders were loose. The dark circles under his eyes seemed less prominent. He didn’t look like a sleep-deprived demon anymore; he looked like a man who had just conquered a nation.
Fugaku looked down at Ren sitting on the floor, offered a slight, victorious smirk, and walked past him toward the kitchen.
Ren sat there, frozen in horror.
A profound, terrifying sense of doom settled directly into his stomach.
He looked at Mikoto, who was smiling brightly as she tied her apron.
I lost, Ren realized, his tiny hands trembling. I couldn’t out-wait them. My defense collapsed. I had been played.
The doomsday clock had just started ticking, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
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