Ryosuke Uchiha could feel all eyes on him. Every clan head present was waiting for him to speak.
The Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi clans had just refused the Uchiha's offer to join the reorganized Konoha Military Police. With their loyalty to the Third Hokage still intact, Ryosuke's plan to consolidate Uchiha political power had hit a wall.
Of course, he'd anticipated this. These clans were famous for their loyalty and righteousness — traits that made them predictable. Ryosuke knew that if he wanted their allegiance, he'd have to show them something even more powerful than loyalty.
Something far greater.
In his mind, it wasn't about winning over people — it was about realigning their priorities.
"Why follow an aging Hokage," he thought, "when the Uchiha are the only ones with the vision to survive what's coming?"
Ryosuke slowly opened his eyes. The familiar three-tomoe Sharingan swirled in both irises, commanding silence.
Then, with deliberate slowness, his Mangekyō Sharingan bloomed into view — intricate and deadly, glowing crimson.
The atmosphere thickened.
Even seasoned shinobi like Nara Shikaku, Akimichi Choza, and Yamanaka Inoichi instinctively tensed. None of them had ever seen Ryosuke's Mangekyō up close — and now, its gaze was locked on Shikaku.
Everyone knew what Mangekyō Sharingan meant: Susanoo, Tsukuyomi, Kotoamatsukami, and other reality-warping techniques.
Even if the three clan heads fought together, there was little doubt — they'd lose. Badly.
Shikaku's expression darkened. He spoke lowly:
"You don't plan on attacking us just for saying no… do you?"
The fear was not unreasonable. Ryosuke had already confronted and exposed Danzo Shimura — a senior Konoha advisor — for stealing Uchiha Sharingan and performing illegal experimentation. Fugaku had killed him.
If they could make an example of Danzo, what were three clans?
But Ryosuke only smiled calmly.
"I wouldn't dare," he said lightly. "I simply want to show you something, Nara-dono."
His eyes suddenly glowed — the Sharingan flared with power.
A wave of chakra surged as he cast a genjutsu — not to control, but to reveal.
Shikaku's mind spun. In an instant, reality melted away.
He found himself standing in a different world — one ravaged by war, dread, and something… unnatural.
There, towering before him, was a ten-tailed beast — a grotesque, godlike creature larger than any mountain. It had a single, enormous Rinnegan-like eye and ten writhing tails. Its mouth opened and condensed a massive black-red orb of chakra.
In a flash, the beast launched its attack.
The blast tore through the landscape, flattening mountain ranges like paper. The explosion left a continent-sized trench that stretched all the way to the horizon. Firestorms raged, and a mushroom cloud rose into the sky.
Shikaku gasped. His logical mind reeled.
"What is this… this thing? That's not a Tailed Beast — not even the Nine-Tails has this kind of power!"
The chakra orb had taken only seconds to form — unlike the slow build-up he'd once seen from Kurama during the Nine-Tails' attack on Konoha.
That time, Minato Namikaze had barely managed to teleport the tailed beast bomb away.
If this monster existed… there would be no one left to save the village.
"Is this real?" Shikaku wondered. "Is this a genjutsu illusion — or a prophecy?"
The image shifted again.
Now, vast battalions of shinobi from every Hidden Village — Konoha, Suna, Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa — were united and launching a coordinated assault on the monster. Shikaku recognized the symbols on their vests and headbands. This was no illusion of random chaos — it was the Allied Shinobi Forces, formed in desperation to fight a shared enemy.
"All five great nations," Shikaku thought. "Together? When has that ever happened?"
And among them — he saw his son, Shikamaru— older, hardened by war, but unmistakably his.
The vision then flickered to another face — a teenage girl with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. Could it be… an older Ino?
That meant they'd both survive into adulthood.
But not for long.
The vision shifted again — the monster had broken free of its restraints. Its body surged with glowing red chakra, and in mere seconds, it fired multiple destructive blasts into the distance.
Each explosion blanketed the land in flame and thunder.
Cities vanished in fireballs. Clouds were torn apart by shockwaves. And with every strike, the earth cracked open further.
The monster was relentless — firing one of these doomsday blasts every ten seconds.
"This isn't a tailed beast," Shikaku realized. "It's an extinction-level event."
Then he saw himself.
In a command room — likely the Allied HQ — standing beside Yamanaka Inoichi, both of them directing battlefield strategy.
A communication array stood nearby. This was clearly the nerve center of the entire war effort.
And then — a red light. Too late.
A glowing blast tore through the structure.
Fire consumed everything. The sky turned to ash. In seconds, the entire headquarters was gone.
Shikaku saw it all. Felt it. The heat, the fear, the finality.
Then… darkness.
The vision ended.
Back in reality, Shikaku's eyes refocused slowly. Sweat dripped from his brow. His body trembled. He hadn't moved — but it felt like he'd lived another lifetime.
He had just witnessed his own death.
And not just any death — one so sudden and overwhelming that his body might never be found.
He gasped silently, eyes wide.
Across the room, Inoichi and Choza jumped from their seats and stood in front of him defensively, glaring at Ryosuke.
"What the hell did you do to him?!" Choza bellowed.
"You used genjutsu, didn't you?!" Inoichi shouted, fists clenched.
They knew how terrifying Uchiha genjutsu could be — and Mangekyō Sharingan? That was in a league of its own.
They feared Ryosuke had manipulated Shikaku's mind — or worse.
But Ryosuke only raised a hand calmly, his expression cool.
"Relax," he said. "I didn't harm him. I just showed him a vision. A possible future."
"He's awake, isn't he?"
They looked to Shikaku — still pale, still shaken, but clearly conscious.
Whatever he had seen... had shaken his very soul.
And Ryosuke didn't need to say anything more. The images spoke louder than words.
He hadn't threatened them.
He hadn't demanded obedience.
He had simply shown them the cost of their loyalty — a price paid in blood, fire, and the ashes of the world.
And now, the choice was theirs.
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