The meeting was called after sunset.
Not public. Not ceremonial.
Restricted to core members of the clan and select younger shinobi who had shown "initiative." That word had been used deliberately.
The main hall of the Uchiha district carried a tension that felt different from ordinary disagreement. It was not loud. It was compressed.
Fugaku stood at the front, posture steady, though the strain beneath composure was visible to those who knew how to look. The forged documents had circulated widely enough that denial was no longer sufficient.
"We are being cornered," one elder said sharply. "Patrol routes increase. Council suspicion grows. And now fabricated evidence appears conveniently."
"Fabricated?" another elder challenged. "Or leaked?"
Murmurs spread.
Division.
That was the true damage.
Near the back of the hall, several younger Uchiha stood together in quiet conversation. Not agitated. Not shouting.
Observing.
Fugaku's gaze shifted slightly toward that cluster.
He had noticed the shift over the past weeks. The younger members were no longer reacting impulsively. They were analyzing patterns. Counting patrol movements. Comparing mission assignments.
Someone had influenced that.
Fugaku raised a hand, silencing the room.
"There is one among us," he said slowly, "whose name has circulated more than once in recent discussions."
Silence fell more heavily.
"It is time he speaks."
Several eyes shifted backward instinctively.
He stepped forward without hesitation.
The movement was calm, unforced.
Not defiant.
Measured.
Fugaku's voice carried clearly through the hall.
"Uchiha Kuroto."
The name settled into the room.
Some recognized it immediately. Others only connected it now to the rumors.
The one blamed for Root's casualties.
The one present near Shisui's disappearance.
The one training the younger generation quietly.
Kuroto did not bow deeply.
He inclined his head respectfully.
"You have been accused indirectly," Fugaku continued, "of accelerating instability."
The accusation was carefully phrased.
Indirectly.
"I have accelerated nothing," Kuroto replied evenly. "I have observed patterns."
An elder's expression hardened. "And what patterns do you claim to see?"
Kuroto met his gaze without challenge.
"Pressure without transparency. Surveillance without accusation. Evidence without verification."
The room quieted further.
"You imply manipulation?" another elder asked.
"I imply," Kuroto said calmly, "that someone benefits if we react first."
That statement carried weight.
Because it was not emotional.
It was structural.
"If we mobilize prematurely," he continued, "we confirm the narrative already placed upon us."
"And if we do nothing?" an elder demanded.
"Then we gather proof."
The younger Uchiha at the back straightened slightly.
This was not surrender.
This was repositioning.
Fugaku studied him carefully.
"You believe patience is strength?"
"I believe controlled movement is harder to exploit."
A murmur passed through the room again — softer this time.
Not division.
Consideration.
One elder narrowed his eyes. "And what of Shisui?"
The air tightened.
The accusation lingered there — unspoken but present.
Kuroto did not flinch.
"I believe Shisui died in the middle of someone else's acceleration."
Not denial.
Not confession.
Redirection.
Itachi stood near the side of the hall, silent as always. His expression did not shift, but his attention sharpened.
The room remained suspended between fracture and cohesion.
Finally, Fugaku spoke.
"We will not move tonight," he said firmly. "We will not validate forged evidence with reckless action."
That was not full agreement.
But it was alignment.
As the meeting dispersed gradually, whispers shifted in tone.
Less anger.
More thought.
From the edge of the hall, Itachi watched Kuroto as the younger members naturally gravitated toward him again.
Not because he demanded it.
Because he did not panic.
And in unstable systems—
The calm center becomes gravity.