Sitting in the office of the Konoha Military Police Force, Kai Uchiha stared at the report in his hands, his face pale and unreadable. With a quiet breath, he signed his name at the bottom.
The document summarized the progress of Unit Three, led by Uchiha Jun. Although Jun was slower than expected, she had ultimately fulfilled the task Kai had assigned. The unit was an eclectic mix—comprising Inuzuka, Uchiha, and even members of minor clans like the now-diminished Yuru clan, along with numerous civilian-born shinobi. Of all divisions, Unit Three had the fewest Uchiha—and that was by design.
Kai knew full well that most clan representatives assigned here weren't prodigies. They were likely the cast-offs, experimental failures, or political offerings from their respective families. But that didn't bother him. Kai didn't need exceptional power from them—what he wanted was their presence, their names, their identities.
This was a deliberate push against the entrenched identity politics of Konoha, where civilian and clan divisions had become as dangerous as any rogue ninja. Kai understood that toppling social barriers couldn't be done with slogans or council declarations in front of the Third Hokage. No, subtle action was more effective. Propaganda. Symbolism. Public cohesion through proximity.
And where better to launch that campaign than from within the Military Police—once seen as a tool of Uchiha exclusivity? He allowed Hyūga Aya's name to be added to the roster, a decision that had drawn hushed whispers throughout the village. The idea of a Hyūga—even a branch member—joining the historically Uchiha-run force had ruffled feathers. But Aya's presence, precisely because it wasn't sensational enough to spark riots, helped plant the seed: things were changing.
Uchiha Jun had proven herself competent. She had pulled together this mismatched team and even restrained herself politically. Kai had deliberately restricted the number of Uchiha in her unit, preventing her from using the post to bolster Uchiha Fugaku's faction.
Then there were the others—Uchiha Yu, Tsubasa, and Chiya—loyalists of the conservative elder council, hovering like vultures around Fugaku's shadow. Kai had no intention of letting their influence spread into his operations. Giving Jun this position was already a political concession. Sharing control was off the table.
His thoughts drifted to a name he'd read in another report: Uchiha Ryuying. Recommended by Uchiha Chuan, Ryuying had served in the Third Shinobi World War and showed promise in taijutsu and Water Release techniques. Though only a Chūnin, he had a solid track record. The only caveat? His Sharingan hadn't awakened.
To Kai, that was manageable. He had already refined a genjutsu technique—originally used on Uchiha Kawara—that could stimulate ocular awakening under tightly controlled conditions. The chakra toll was heavy and the success rate inconsistent, but it was safer than trauma-based awakenings.
He made a note to test Ryuying personally. If the man passed, he would be promoted directly to deputy captain of Chuan's squad. Kai sent for Uchiha Asahi and instructed him to retrieve Ryuying from the field for an evaluation.
Asahi, ever dependable, nodded. But before leaving, he gave Kai a concerned glance. "Lord Kai… forgive me, but your complexion is pale. You should rest. You're only fourteen…"
"I know my limits," Kai replied coolly. "I won't jeopardize my body. Not when so much depends on me."
Once Asahi departed, Kai looked into the small mirror on his desk. His reflection—handsome, composed—was troublingly pale. The side effect of his recent experiments.
The work he and Hyūga Aya had undertaken had progressed—though not without complications. Their first attempt at fusing three cell types, including White Zetsu tissue, into Kai's body had shown no visible result. Aya, with her Byakugan, had seen why: the infused cells were too few and weak to spark change.
So they had increased the dosage. The results were immediate. Kai's body weakened. His internal temperature rose. For several days, he felt depleted, and his chakra control fluctuated. Aya remained by his side, monitoring every change.
Eventually, his body adapted. The fused cells—bearing traces of Kai's own DNA—integrated into his system. Aya confirmed an increase in chakra reserves and efficiency. Minor, she said, perhaps a natural part of adolescence. But Kai sensed more. His recovery, his perception—it was sharper.
Still, there were unexpected effects. His skin, once tanned from years of war, grew unnaturally fair. Aya assured him it wasn't like White Zetsu's grotesque transformation. The triple fusion process had weakened the mutagenic potential. With further adaptation, the changes would plateau.
To confirm it, they repeated the process. The second round brought no further paleness, but Aya's analysis of his genetic structure showed subtle shifts. Parts of Kai's genome, previously dormant or damaged—possibly Mangekyō-related—were beginning to activate.
"It's less emergence," Aya had said, "and more like repair."
Though Kai felt no tangible boost in his ocular power yet, he clung to hope. His goal was clear: to reach the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan without sacrificing family. He would reclaim what others gained through blood and trauma—through science.
But progress was slow.
Part of it was the scarcity of viable White Zetsu material. Another problem was staffing: only Aya could conduct these procedures. Kai needed more hands. More minds.
Which is where the girl came in—Iori. A young orphan he had taken under his wing. No formal training, but she had promise. After months of basic study under Aya, it was time she entered the lab, even just for routine assistance. Exposure would accelerate her learning.
Aya might protest. But Kei trusted that once she saw Iori's potential, she'd accept it.
As for more Zetsu cells—well, that would mean dealing with Orochimaru.
Kai's expression darkened. That snake had long been collaborating with Danzō, using Konoha's roots to fuel inhuman experiments. But Kai wasn't Danzō. He didn't chase raw power.
He pursued evolution.
"They explore," he whispered to the empty office, "but I ascend. They grasp at strength. I'll shape its very form."