Fugaku Uchiha pushed open the heavy steel gates of the Uchiha Compound, their clang echoing through the dawn-lit courtyard. He stood at the forefront, spine rigid, eyes burning with resolve, ready to strike down anyone who dared threaten his clan—or even meet his gaze with disrespect.
Behind him, four elders stood forming a silent phalanx: Elder Takumi, the strategist, lips pressed into a thin line as he calculated every possible outcome. Elder Setsuna, the Great Elder, and the leader of the hawks, the oldest combat warrior whose razor-sharp eyes could slice through deceit. Elder Sotaru, keeper of the clan's hidden scrolls, silent yet always two steps ahead. Elder Jing, the orator-turned-judge, his unreadable expression concealing a mind primed for both mercy and sentence.
Beyond the elders, two hundred and fifty jonin stood in perfect formation. Their three-tomoe Sharingan whirled in unison, an awe-inspiring display of precision and latent menace. Not since Madara's fateful departure had the Uchiha assembled so comprehensively.
Trailing this vanguard was the thousand-strong battalion of Uchiha ninja—armed, armored, and united under Fugaku's command. The rattle of their armor and the faint crackle of chakra under tension filled the air with unspoken threat.
Across the field, Konoha's leadership awaited: the Third Hokage resplendent in his ceremonial robes; the three Hokage Advisors, faces grave; the Patriarchs of every allied clan, stalwart and watchful. Lines of ANBU operatives and Root shinobi fanned out behind them, weapons poised, chakra suppressed, ready for the first spark.
A heavy silence reigned, broken only by the wind stirring the banners overhead. Two forces—clan against village—locked in a breathless standoff, each measuring the other in a moment pregnant with destiny.
The tense silence was shattered by the arrival of the ninja hawk. At the Hokage's gesture, the troops froze, hope kindled that this new information might avert bloodshed. Even the Root and ANBU operatives—muscles coiled to strike—stilled at his command.
The scroll drifted closed, yet something far more potent unfurled—Fugaku's chakra exploded outward, wrath bound by decades of restraint unraveling at once. The three-tomoe of his Sharingan spun wildly, then coalesced—black-and-crimson spirals etched into the Mangekyo, formed not of technique but of betrayal.
Fugaku's voice barely rose above a whisper, murmured only loud enough so that the Uchiha elders could hear the words. "Shishui rescued. Alive barely. Confirmed Mangekyo Sharingan. Eyes Gouged Out."
Behind him: Takumi's chakra burst like a detonating seal, raw and strategic; Setsuna hissed through his teeth, aura jagged and unrestrained Sotaru's hands twitched near summoning scrolls, eyes narrowed; Jing merely stared, lips unmoving, but his chakra pulsed with judicial fury.
The entire force of the Uchiha Clan, sensing the shift, ignited at once, synchronized not in rage—but in grim resolve. Stone tiles beneath their feet cracked from pressure alone. Sharingan revolved in concentric formation, a blood-red storm forming in silence.
The chakra pressure didn't vanish—it condensed. Fugaku raised his hand, palm outward, fingers steady. No words. No jutsu. Just presence.
Like a fuse snuffed out before detonation, the four elders halted mid-flow. The 250 jonin followed, their eyes still burning but their feet unmoved. Spinning Sharingan slowed, yet remained active, like wolves called to heel but watching for a signal to strike.
Then came Hiruzen's twitch. It wasn't fear. It was calculation.
A gust whispered across the plaza as Fugaku's words echoed: "I wonder what Hokage-sama means by surrounding our Uchiha clan tonight."
It wasn't a challenge. It was a scalpel—cutting through implication and exposing fear wrapped in policy. The ninja clan patriarchs fell silent. Even the most disciplined among them—Shikaku Nara, eyes flickering with calculations, and Hiashi Hyuga, brow furrowed with disbelief—couldn't help but stare at Fugaku in quiet awe.
"What did he eat today?" someone murmured under their breath. "That isn't Fugaku the negotiator. That's Fugaku, the Wicked Eye - the protector!"
Across the formation, dozens of ANBU and elite jonin braced themselves—not from command, but instinct. The old rhythm of diplomacy had shifted. Then came the Hokage's response. Sarutobi Hiruzen straightened, his eyes narrowed into storm-borne steel, and his voice struck the air like thunder: "Fugaku! You have evacuated the non-combatants and mobilized the entire Uchiha Clan ninjas. What does the Uchiha clan intend to do?!"
His chakra flared—golden, ancient, and vast. Like wisdom forced into warfare. But Fugaku did not flinch. His own chakra bloomed outward, washing over the plaza like a tidal wave doused in fire. Not aggressive. Just unmistakably present. The pressure of the Sandaime was smothered beneath the weight of Fugaku's resolve.
A moment passed. Not one Uchiha moved. Not one leaf rustled. And for the first time in years… the Hokage realized he wasn't speaking to a subordinate. He was speaking to a founder.
"That's a fair question, Hokage-sama. When I awoke this morning, I never imagined the day would end like this. Yet we must do what is necessary—for the Uchiha, and for Konoha, Hokage-sama." Fugaku paused, letting his words settle, then continued: "Now to the reason we've gathered. After Shishui visited you this morning, I wanted to meet him for teaching him a few secret Uchiha genjutsu and ninjutsu, however, he disappeared. Tonight I learned he went to meet Danzo this afternoon, but was gravely injured, his life in peril, and is now being hunted by the village's finest. I humbly ask you, Hokage-sama, for an explanation."
Danzo moved to distance himself at once. "Nonsense! I haven't seen Uchiha Shishui today—I've met no Uchiha until now!" Yet beneath his assurance, doubt crept in. Had someone uncovered his interference? Was Shishui still alive? What happened to the Root Squad? And who else could have known about his sudden intervention in Shishui's mission?
Kai and his squad burst into the clearing just as Danzo protested his involvement with Shishui's disappearance. Kai froze at the sight of Danzo standing amid the gathering. He had expected that, once Danzo seized Shishui's eyes, the elder would retreat deep into Root's hidden headquarters—far beyond any reach. Yet here he was, emerging from the shadows into the heart of the confrontation.
A chill ran down Kai's spine as he pieced together Danzo's motives. This wasn't a simple matter of power or curiosity. It was an obsession—a ruthless drive to see the Uchiha bleed, to eliminate them entirely. Danzo's presence spoke of deeper schemes, of a man willing to drag himself into open conflict rather than remain safely behind the veil of Root.
Kai's gaze snapped from the old man to the assembled clansmen, his tone icy. "Oh? So Assistant Hokage Danzo-sama has not met a single Uchiha until this very moment? Then perhaps you can explain this, Hokage-sama."
Without waiting for an answer, Kai called back over his shoulder. "Kotaro. Yoshiro." The two jonin needing no further instruction immediately stepped forward in unison, their hands moving to the sealing scrolls strapped across their backs. With a soft rustle, each scroll unfurled—revealing twenty-four rigid forms clad in the black garb of ANBU. Their featureless masks lay discarded at their feet, blades still sheathed at their sides, bloodied cuffs testament to a silent, ruthless end.
Behind Kai and the jonin, two jonin teams formed a protective crescent, flanking Uchiha Mei on one side and Uchiha Itachi on the other. Between them, two medic-nin hovered over a stretcher bearing Shishui Uchiha. His face was contorted in pain, hands pressed desperately to his eyes—fresh bandages stained crimson beneath trembling fingers. Each medic murmured reassurances as they worked swiftly to staunch the bleeding, their chakra-imbued gauze glowing faintly in the dusk. The gravity of Shishui's condition hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the silent rows of corpses before them.
A low murmur swept through the crowd. Hiruzen's eyes flickered with hurt and confusion; Fugaku's hand hovered above his sword hilt. Even Danzo, usually unflappable behind his single eye, paled as he recognized the uniforms.
Kai's voice rang out again, steady and demanding: "Who are these shinobi, Hokage-sama? Were they operatives of Root… or the loyal ANBU of Konohagakure?"
Utatane Koharu stepped forward, her brow knit in fury and disbelief. Hands clenched at her sides, she addressed Fugaku in a voice that trembled with restrained outrage: "Fugaku, what exactly do you mean? Are members of the Uchiha clan now free to slaughter our own shinobi—those sworn to protect Konoha alongside them?"
Her words echoed across the clearing, halting even the restless Uchiha ranks. The assembled elders and jonin shifted uneasily, glancing between the fallen ANBU, the injured Shisui, and the two rival leaders locked in accusation. In that suspended moment, every eye—whether filled with suspicion, loyalty, or fear—turned to Fugaku, awaiting his answer.
Fugaku's gaze swept the assembly, voice ringing with restrained authority: "Good question, Elder Utatane Koharu. I intended to ask Temporary Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen the same. This afternoon, Assistant Hokage Shimura Danzo summoned Shisui Uchiha under the pretense of counsel—only to have his Sharingan gouged out and his life left hanging by a thread."
"In light of that atrocity, we mobilized our clan not to wage war but to protect our children's eyes and to discover Shisui's fate. Is there something wrong with that?!" A heavy silence followed. Even Hiruzen's resolute features flickered under Fugaku's accusation, while Danzo's single eye darted, unable to meet the challenge.
A tense hush fell over the courtyard as a dozen pairs of eyes flicked between Fugaku and the motionless form of Shisui on his stretcher. The Ninja Clan Patriarchs exchanged silent, loaded glances—each man wondering if the foundations of the village itself were about to crack.
"Danzo, the Hokage's assistant, took Shisui's eyes?!" one ninja, who was standing behind the Patriarchs, hissed.
"No—Danzo is the Hokage Assistant. He'd never do that!" another objected.
"Quiet! Don't question the elders," a third snapped.
At the rumors, Itachi and Kai shared a look. Kai's thoughts raced: My, my. What's gotten into Fugaku today? Did he take some drug?!
Setsuna, standing nearby, was struck dumb. He stared at Fugaku as if he'd been swapped for someone else. Was Satoru impersonating him? He longed to speak out, to challenge the whispers—but he was outmaneuvered by Fugaku's own intensity. Would he now have to play the good cop? To think, a day would come in his long life when calming his own clan head would be his most tedious task. Bleh. Boring!
As one, everyone turned to Shisui. Hiruzen addressed him, urging him to speak truthfully—still convinced Shisui would act in Konoha's best interests. What Hiruzen failed to grasp was that Konoha's welfare did not necessarily coincide with the agenda of the Hokage and the four clans backing him.
Shisui's shoulders trembled as he pushed aside his blood-soaked bandages, revealing empty eye sockets. His voice was a ragged whisper, each word laced with despair. "Sandaime-sama… I am Uchiha Shisui, ANBU member Crow. After receiving my S-rank assignment, I retreated to my usual training ground to steel my resolve before tomorrow's mission. In the evening, Danzo-sama appeared—took advantage of my guard being down—and tore out my Sharingan. Then he sent Root agents to chase and kill me, to silence me forever. If the clan hadn't arrived when they did, I… I would be dead now."
He broke off, knees buckling. Tears mingled with blood as he sank to one elbow, voice cracking: "All I ever wanted was to protect Konoha and its peace, Hokage-sama…" His words trailed into sobs of betrayal.