“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

—Frank Herbert, "DUNE"

Soraza

Accidentally uploaded this chapter earlier than intended last night so to the five of you who got to read it early, you're welcome. Let me know what you thought of it in the comments below. Lol sorry. I need to be fair to all platforms I don't want to play favorites, even if this platform is the best one. ;) Love y'all!

Fugaku studied his sweating daughter as she struggled to overcome the challenge he set before her. Her body was trembling, and her brow was furrowed in deep concentration. A hint of fear laced her actions. He knew that she wasn't afraid of the pain, but more than anything, she was afraid of the consequences of failure. The pain was short, sweet, and could be overcome. Her failure could have long-term consequences that she couldn't begin to prepare for. He had made sure that she believed this.

He had spent the last two weeks since they left the hospital conditioning her to become the perfect weapon, and while it was training, it was more akin to brainwashing.

Now, Fugaku could be said to be a loving man, but he wasn't averse to war. He'd been born in it, grew up in it, and thrived in it. While he had been present for the decision of peace, he was always prepared, ready to strike in order to insure the future of the clan. He knew how to break an enemy, and he knew how to break his daughter.

The first thing he addressed was her abysmal chakra control. Sure, she had been able to use a C-rank jutsu, and she even succeeded in using her Dojutsu for long periods of time. But her success was more akin to a brute-force application of will than any form of control.

He had started her off with something that most people would consider barbaric, forcing her to undertake a task that he knew she would fail over and over again in order to make her mind pliable and her control immeasurable. The task was simple: continuously maintain a small shell of chakra across her entire body. This task in and of itself was already leagues ahead of any ninja of her age and even outstripped the skills of most mid-ranked genin. Career genes notwithstanding, expecting a child who had barely entered the academy to be able to perform such a task was unimaginable.

It didn't stop there, though.

Maintaining this chakra shell was already hard enough, but he added a layer to this exercise that even Danzo Shimura might find detestable if seeing an Uchiha harmed didn't give him so much pleasure.

Situated around Noramori were a series of long rods attached to springs and gears that could be used to increase the amount of pressure behind the thrusting force of these staves. The staves were made of iron, and on the tips of every single one were various stabbing implements. From the spear-like point of a kunai to the star-shaped wedge of a shuriken. They contained even the needle-like blades of a sai. You name it; these rods contained it in all its deadly glory.

Noramori had to maintain the shell in order to keep these from stabbing, slicing, skewering, or otherwise defacing her body. It had started out as a terrifying exercise. Two kunai spears with the same force applied to them hovered millimeters away from her skin. They had just enough force to barely prick the skin if she failed in her task. This had been extremely difficult for her and had led to the first session of practice," which left her covered in spotted red wounds that quickly healed into scars under the medical administration of an Uchiha medical ninja.

In his blind obligation to the clan, Fugaku was not training his daughter; he was training a weapon. Sacrificing Noramori's trust and admiration in return for increasing the clan's chances of success in the upcoming coup Every time she succeeded in her task, he would increase the difficulty. First, he began with two spears with equal force, then he continued with the same two spears at varying difficulty. This forced her to modulate her shell in order to keep them from harming her. He then continued to increase this difficulty over and over. Noramori's arms and body were riddled with scars that no medical ninja short of the great Tsunade herself would be able to keep from forming.

He was extremely surprised by her fortitude and speed of advancement. On the first day, she made no advances and only succeeded in completing the exercise for a short period of time after he told her that if she couldn't even do this much, she wouldn't be able to save her family if someone chose that they should die. Every following day, she began to improve at increasingly alarming rates. He knew this was because she was loyal to her family above all others, and the motivation to keep them safe drove her more than her own well-being. He had even managed to convince her that her special training was necessary in order to become stronger than anyone else, so she could enforce this need. Fugaku still noticed that she tended to flinch whenever he called for her to come to undertake these trials.

He knew what this was. He knew that what he was doing would be considered torture by any other name. It hurt him as a father, but as the leader of the clan, he steeled his heart and threw away any loving future he could have with his daughter with his weapon.

Today was the worst day of all, and Fugaku was watching his daughter as she completed a task that was frankly impossible by most Ninja's standards. She looked like a fucked-up depiction of a voodoo doll. A fledgling hellraiser covered in streaks of blood and seemingly unbothered by the pain, even welcoming it with open arms.

Every spear was active, and they were all set to kill or seriously maim her. He was completely blown away by her ability. This required not only the utmost control but also a level of chakra output that rivaled the strongest beings in their world. He hadn't planned for this to go this far, but something seemed to have snapped in his daughter. She had begged for it, practically crying when she was told that there was nowhere further they could go with the current training. She wanted to become stronger because she needed to be able to protect her family.

♦♦♦

Noramori's mind was racing as her Tamashigan and focus went into hyperdrive. She couldn't afford to fail, not when failure could mean the end of her life and the end of her family's lives. Father had explained to her how the training that she was undergoing would set the stage to combat a powerful evil that the clan would face soon. It didn't really matter that Noramori could easily see that he was lying since her Tamashgan had been activated. He truly believed that she was instrumental in whatever plan he wanted to undertake. Noramori's only thought was that he had been telling the truth when he said that there was a very real possibility of her family getting hurt in the coming battle.

She didn't know what this "battle" was, nor did she particularly care. She just wanted to make sure that her family would make it out of this alive. She had come to understand how much of a benefit this power was; her father wouldn't allow her to think of it in any other way. It was new, unknown, undiluted, and incredibly good at being used for tracking and information gathering. Her potential as an assassin and infiltrator had increased tenfold in the eyes of the clan, a fact that her father also made sure that she understood.

This led her to her current position, covered in blood, struggling to stave off death, and alternating between questioning her father's sanity and comparing him to her first father. She always saw Fugaku as authoritative but loving. Unfortunately, this "training" cast him in a brand new light.

Fugaku was a man of many faces; above all else, he was proud. His pride for his clan came before his pride for his family. His family was but a blip in the history of the descendants of Indra, barely a footnote on the genetic family tree. Sure, they were quite possibly royalty as far as the clan was concerned, but if the clan wasn't standing in 100 years, there would be no mantel for his family to claim. Even more so, for every year they remained in the shadows, weakened and despised by the village's elders, their chances of being lost would increase.

'He's kind of a piece of sh*t, isn't he? His duty must be really important. Asshole.'

Noramori's thoughts seethed as she was blasted by the aura of her father. She didn't care if he wanted the clan to be safer. In her eyes, the only reason her family was in danger was due to the decisions of the very man in front of her.

"Shit!" Noramori hissed through her teeth as her frustration distracted her from her task.

'It managed to stab me about a centimeter deep before retracting... too bad it wasn't my jugula,' her mind was cast in grim sarcasm.

Fugaku just stared at her with the same cold and calculating look he had been sporting since the hospital. His gaze was unwavering.

Noramori gritted her teeth.

'Fuck this man, fuck him for treating me like everyone else from my previous life. I trusted him. I loved him.'

"Good Noramori, you are almost there." Fugakus's face remained unchanged as he spoke like a scientist viewing a particularly boring subject.

'Oh yeah? Am I? Fucking asshole.'

Of course, Noramori kept her thoughts and anger to herself. She knew that Fugaku wanted her to be the clan's weapon, and she learned early on in their training that Fugaku was much more powerful than her.

She focused on the pain; it drew a sharp clarity from her mind. Painting everything in a detailed shade of blue and red

Once this "training" was done, she knew Fugaku would barely give her a moment to rest as he would immediately want to throw her into a sparring lesson.

'He calls them lessons; I call them beating me to within an inch of my life.'

'Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't my life have just stayed happy? Why does everything have to go to sh*t?'

All of these thoughts ran through Noramori's head as she struggled to modulate and maintain her coating of chakra.

"Motherfucker!" Noramori screamed as she let a few more spears slip before pushing them back from her skin.

She didn't know how to cope with the physical or traumatic effects of this series of tortuous experiences. She was settling on anger for now, but that was really only because she didn't want to allow her mind to settle into the despondent unfeeling that was her previous self's sole coping skill.

She would complete this "training" and keep her family safe. Nothing would stop her from tearing down the world in order to make sure that they could stay alive. Well, maybe sans one father; she wasn't too sure whether or not she could still stand to look upon his fake smile whenever his plans finally came to fruition.

"Just a little longer... little blossom. You have but moments to go," Fugaku said.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"

Noramori couldn't handle it anymore. How dare he call her that while subjecting her to what amounts to torture?

'Fuck his plans and fuck his intentions, and most of all, fuck the clan!'

Her rage bubbled up inside of her. It was a physical sensation akin to a warhead that was primed and targeted beginning its lift-off procedure.

It boiled through her, pushing along her chakra and slamming it out through her skin. A veritable torrent of malcontent poured out of her like an avalanche, ready to tear apart the entire compound.

A visible wave of chakra pushed outward from her body and bent the spears away from her.

The metal shrieked as the springs behind the spears drove them off course as they slid away from her impromptu bubble of force. Springs and gears were popping out like live rounds, pinging off all the surfaces of the room.

The spears themselves flew in different directions, some of them slamming into each other and spinning while others bounced off the wall.

'Holy sh*t, did one of them penetrate the stone? I was holding that back. He isn't an asshole. He is a psychopath,' Noramori thought; her body feeling a sense of release as the contraption that brought her so much pain and suffering was reduced to scrap metal.

It felt cathartic in a way that she couldn't really understand. Like defeating a rival or killing an enemy. A final conclusion to a long, drawn-out battle

Her arms were shaking, her chest was heaving, and her eyes had a look of absolute hatred in them.

"Now, Noramori, this is necessary in order to protect the clan." Fugaku had a calm tone; he hadn't even moved as the torture device veritably exploded.

"I don't give a shit about the clan! I'm only doing this to insure that Itachi, Mother, and Sasuke survive whatever fucked up decision you make for all of our future."

Her father cracked a little. A look of pain flashed across his face.

"I fucking saw that you piece of shit; you don't get to feel sorry; you don't get to feel any relief for this shit. You have lost a daughter."

Fugaku's eyes hardened.

"You will do your duty for the clan."

"Again, fuck the clan!"

Fugaku began to move toward her.

"Stop," Noramori's angry tirade stuttered a bit, "I will do what you ask of me, but there is nothing you can do to make me change my mind about my reasons. This is for my family and my family only.

She may be mad at Fugaku, but she is still terrified of the power he has over her.

Fugaku paused, eyeing his daughter with a look of resigned acceptance.

"Very well, as long as that stays true, then you will be a great benefit."

Noramori suppressed a sob.

'A benefit? That's all am to him now?' Noramori silently lamented.

'It seems that I am creating a monster. If I can't sway her view of the clan, then she might need to be put down.'

"I saw that. You wouldn't plan to kill your own daughter, would you?" Noramori couldn't suppress her sobs anymore: "Your killing intent toward me is plain as day. How could you?"

Fugaku grimaced, looking into her eyes at a pair of Tamashigan that had fully evolved as the three tomoe surrounding her enlarged purple pupils were spinning out of control.

Noramori was searching through her father's aura. She needed to find at least some remnants of the man she remembered.

She didn't know why, but every positive thread she could pick up from him felt dirty like she would never be able to view any part of the man who boldly called himself her father a good man ever again.

Fugaku tried to move forward and embrace his daughter.

Noramori flinched and stepped back, "Don't! Just... don't. You've done enough."

She stormed out, and Fugaku watched her leave. He wasn't going to force her into more training—not after that display. Not after he was confronted with his own guilt over his actions.

His eyes roamed the room. It looked like a bomb went off. Every surface was covered in deep gouges. Spears and scrap metal littered the floor and were penetrating the ceiling and walls. The metal braces that held the various arms of his "training device" were torn apart. Some of them appeared to have been sheared into perfectly straight lines, not even having time to bend before they flung themselves into the walls, floors, and ceiling. Some of those had been primed with enough force to pulverize a boulder. What sort of monster was his daughter?

She had spent years struggling to even create a clone. Now she was improving at speeds that he couldn't even begin to chart or plan for. If she continued to grow stronger and turned on the clan due to his actions, they would be doomed.

"What have I done? What have I unleashed upon the world?"