"Patriarch."
Inside the Uchiha clan compound, not far from the sacred Naka Shrine, Uchiha Jun quietly slid open the door to Fugaku Uchiha's private room. She entered, then knelt respectfully on one knee.
"Patriarch."
Uchiha Kai had gone—uninvited—to the residence of the clan's eldest elder, Uchiha Shin. And though he hadn't bothered to conceal his presence, the boldness of his stride left no room for secrecy. Nearly everyone knew.
Fugaku had been tracking the situation closely, though he had offered neither tacit support nor public objection. His thoughts on the matter remained characteristically guarded.
But one thing was clear: Uchiha Kai wouldn't fail.
That wasn't faith in the boy himself—no, it was faith in the Mangekyō Sharingan.
Kai hadn't informed him of his plans. That, too, was telling.
He has his own designs, Fugaku thought. In which case, all that remains is to observe the outcome… and intervene if necessary.
If the situation spiraled out of control, Fugaku would act. Whether to protect the clan, or to put out the fire—literally.
"What's the status?" Fugaku asked. He hadn't left his study all evening.
"The conflict between Lord Kai and several elders has escalated," Jun reported, keeping her gaze lowered. "Elder Shin's compound has been set ablaze. Many of the clan's shinobi have noticed, and they're already converging on the site."
"I see…" Fugaku exhaled slowly. "Then it's time to initiate the contingency."
"Understood. Shall I dispatch the Military Police Corps?"
"Send Kai's detachment first," Fugaku ordered. "Their presence will stabilize the situation. And pass down my orders: no one else is to interfere—not unless I say so."
Jun hesitated, bowing her head even lower. "Forgive me, Lord Patriarch. I acted preemptively. I've already mobilized a clan patrol team to cordon off the area."
Fugaku blinked, then frowned faintly. He couldn't decide whether to be displeased or impressed.
Jun had overstepped. But she'd also done the right thing.
She'd always acted this way—doing what she deemed correct without waiting for orders. Fugaku had tolerated it in the past. He wouldn't scold her now.
Perhaps, he thought, I've become too sensitive to questions of authority lately…
"You've prepared well. I trust your judgment," Fugaku said, rubbing his temples. "Ready yourself. We're going."
"Yes, Lord Patriarch," Jun replied, rising. But concern lingered on her face.
"My lord… regarding Uchiha Kai..."
"Hmm?"
"I wonder if you have a long-term plan for him." Her tone was careful. "Lord Kai is capable—formidable. But that makes him unpredictable. Today he cooperates with you. Tomorrow…?"
She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: could Kai turn on him?
Fugaku paused, then smiled thinly.
Did anyone really understand his relationship with Kai?
He wasn't certain himself. But so long as their cooperation remained mutually beneficial, there would be no betrayal.
"Interesting perspective," Fugaku said. "And what would you suggest?"
"Assign me to his unit," Jun said immediately. "I believe I can earn his trust. Whether to guide or monitor him… I can handle it."
Fugaku looked at her, expression unreadable.
"Send you?" he muttered. "Kai doesn't strike me as someone easily influenced."
He sighed again. "Let's deal with the current situation first. We'll revisit your proposal later."
"Yes, Lord Patriarch. I only ask that you consider it seriously. Uchiha Kai is... dangerous."
Clang!
Blades clashed in a sharp metallic ring, sparks scattering in the dark. Uchiha Kai and his masked opponent separated, swords lowered, eyes locked.
Kai's gaze was grim.
Their swordfight had been intense—every ounce of his skill poured into each movement. Enhanced by the Mangekyō Sharingan, his perception bordered on precognition. And yet…
This masked ninja matched him. Every swing. Every feint.
One mistake, and either of them would be dead.
The most alarming part? His opponent wasn't using a Mangekyō. He fought on par with a three-tomoe Sharingan alone.
A pure swordsman, Kai thought. Ridiculous.
Without his Mangekyō, he'd already have lost. That much was clear. With it, they were even.
But this wasn't a battle he needed to draw out.
His objective tonight wasn't mass slaughter—it was decapitation.
The hardline elders were the root. Cut off the head, and the body would wither.
He wouldn't waste chakra killing the whole clan. That wasn't his plan.
Kai's gaze narrowed.
Time to end it.
He disengaged and began weaving signs—rapidly.
His opponent's eyes narrowed beneath the mask, then he burst forward, foot slamming into the dirt. A blur of motion. Sword behind his back, but his footwork was flawless.
Kai didn't panic. He wasn't fighting a samurai—he was a shinobi.
His hand seals completed in a flash.
"Fire Style: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet!"
Three enormous torrents of flame burst from his mouth, serpentine and searing. They coiled toward the masked man from three directions—left, right, and center.
Kai's Mangekyō pulsed. He was already preparing the real technique.
As expected, the masked swordsman evaded skillfully. One dragon missed, another he cleaved in half, and the last he sidestepped entirely—only to emerge directly in front of Kai, blade poised to strike.
Kai's eyes snapped open.
The space around the masked man distorted.
From the darkness, a black screen spread outward like ink in water. A dome of void, consuming light itself. The masked swordsman's Sharingan widened—but saw nothing.
He'd been caught.
The illusion wasn't just visual—it devoured light, sense, and certainty. There was no moonlight. No movement. Just absence.
Genjutsu.
A sophisticated Mangekyō illusion, timed and set up mid-battle, when the opponent's focus was frayed.
But the masked man didn't freeze. His instincts carried him forward—blind, yes, but guided by memory and keen hearing.
Even in blindness, he struck.
His blade whipped forward, a flurry of perfect arcs. Each one aimed at where Kai should be.
But Kai—eyes clear, body poised—watched.
He wasn't there.
Each blow cut only air.
In one swift exchange, they both struck—three slashes each, like lightning.
But only one could see.
And only one hit.
The black dome began to crumble.