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Some in the room exchanged glances the vision was bold, but Setsuna's hunger was blatant.
A younger Uchiha, barely twenty, asked, "And after we take control?"
Setsuna smiled thinly. "After? We dismantle the old guard. Install our own in every seat of authority. Rewrite the law so no one can ever strip the Uchiha of their power again. And the world will see the Leaf is the Uchiha, and the Uchiha is the Leaf."
--
From the far side of the hall, a smaller figure slipped in, Shinzo, Setsuna's son. Barely twelve, still in academy robes, his eyes were wide with a mixture of awe and confusion at the council before him.
Setsuna's hard gaze softened only slightly. "You should be training."
"I wanted to see," Shinzo replied quietly. "I heard the next shipment is coming in a month."
Several of the elders frowned, but Setsuna waved them off. "Let him learn. This is his future."
Shinzo stepped closer, glancing between the hardened faces. "Will… we win?"
The question silenced the room. Setsuna crouched to his son's height, the firelight painting red reflections in his eyes.
"We will win because we must," Setsuna said, each word deliberate. "No one else will give us what we deserve. We take it. We keep it. And we make sure no one dares challenge the Uchiha again. Do you understand?"
Shinzo nodded, though his expression carried the uncertainty of his youth. Setsuna rested a hand on his shoulder firm, possessive then rose to address the council again.
Setsuna pointed to one of his lieutenants. "You will prepare a shadow team. No insignia, no clan markings. If the Nameless does not report in two days, you leave immediately."
He pointed to another. "Increase the patrols around our storehouses and Hidden flames gambling house. No slip-ups. We have enemies watching, and if they think they can choke us by stealing our supplies, they'll try."
"And the merchant?" a voice asked.
Setsuna smirked. "We keep him greedy. A greedy man works harder than a loyal one. But if he falters, we replace him."
The conversation shifted to smaller tactical details, but Setsuna's mind kept circling the insult years of slow exile from true power. The village elders smiling politely while binding the clan with bureaucratic chains. The whispered rumors, the unspoken distrust.
In his mind, the coup was already more than a plan, it was destiny. And with each weapon shipment, with each ryo funneled through their hands, that destiny sharpened.
As the meeting drew to a close, Setsuna looked once more at his son, lingering near the door.
"When the time comes, I will remove Fugaku myself" Setsuna thought, "So, my son will inherit not just a name… but a throne."
--
The sun was beginning its slow descent, smearing the western horizon with faint strokes of a mixture orange and crimson. Long shadows stretched across the dirt path, and the forest that flanked it on either side felt colder now that the wind had shifted. The smell of pine and damp soil lingered in the air, carried by the breeze.
Itachi moved swiftly along the trail, his body low, each stride light yet deliberate. His eyes scanned ahead, his senses stretched to their limits. The scrolls and coded notes secured in his pouch weighed more than they should. They were evidence, hard proof of the Uchiha–Mugen connection and the coup, the kind of intelligence that could alter the life of all in the konoha.
He'd already covered close to fifty kilometers since leaving the gambling den. His breath was steady, chakra control precise, conserving his stamina for the long run back to Konoha. Every step was measured against the urgency of his mission.
Then, movement.
He caught it at the edge of his vision... a wavering figure ahead, just barely keeping to the path. Slowing his pace, he adjusted his breathing, pressing himself into the shadow of a thick cedar trunk.
The figure staggered, and as Itachi's focus sharpened, details emerged. The person was small, thin-limbed, moving like each step was a battle. Torn clothes hung loose from the body, the fabric scorched in several places. Both hands were wrapped in rough bandages, and even from this distance, Itachi could see the skin beneath was mottled with burns.
The gait was clumsy, unsteady, as if each motion was forced by sheer stubbornness rather than strength. And then came another observation.. the size. This wasn't an adult. This was a child.
His eyes narrowed.
Seven… no, maybe six years old. But what's a kid doing this far from any settlement… in this condition?
Itachi stayed put, watching.
The boy... if it was indeed a boy... leaned slightly to one side, every so often catching himself before he could tip over entirely. He moved as though he was carrying an invisible weight, or perhaps the lingering pain in every muscle.
For a moment, the thought crossed his mind to step out and intercept. But he forced himself to stay still. This was the shinobi's dilemma... mercy could be a trap, compassion a weapon used against you. And Itachi had learned that an injured child could be just as dangerous as a healthy adult, if not careful.
Still, his eyes tracked the boy's path, noting how slow he was moving. If this is an enemy… then patience will show me more than direct action.
So he followed.
--
A/N: As Itachi was going back to konoha carrying all the proof for uchiha-mugan transactions. He was interrupted by a 6 year old who was wounded.