"The village doesn't see the Uchiha as its own anymore!"
"It's been fifteen years—three Hokage now—and every single one has been a Senju!"
"And the next one? It's going to be another Senju brat! Tsunade!"
"Everyone in Konoha knows it. She'll be the Fourth Hokage!"
"And where are we, the Uchiha, in all of this?"
"Haven't we bled for this village? Haven't we cried for it? Why are we the ones left out?!"
"Our people weep in the Hero's Cemetery, but no one remembers us."
"What do we get for sacrificing everything?"
"Suspicion. Exclusion. Suppression. Humiliation."
"They spit on the Uchiha name!"
"We helped found this village, and yet we're the ones treated like outsiders. It's disgraceful!"
The speaker fell silent. A wave of murmured agreement spread across the shrine, the heat of their frustration thick in the air.
Even Naori, usually composed, could feel the injustice deep in her bones. This wasn't just bitterness—it was truth laid bare.
"So what do we do?"
"What else? We reclaim our honor—with strength!"
"Isn't power the only requirement to become Hokage?"
"Fight the Senju? They've been leeching off us for years!"
"Tsunade's just another name. If she dies, what then? Who will they push next?!"
"It's not just her—it's the Sandaime! As long as he stands, we'll never get our chance. If it's not Tsunade, it'll be someone else like her."
"And that traitor Renjiro! Lying and spying for them—kill him too!"
A deadly silence fell.
All eyes turned to a young man sitting in the center of the shrine, unmoved and serene.
Renjiro.
The air trembled with malice as dozens of Sharingan eyes locked onto him. But Renjiro's expression didn't change—still calm, still kind.
A man stepped forward, drawing a sword and leveling it at Renjiro.
"Renjiro," he said coldly. "To make sure you don't talk—why not die here?"
"Stop!" an elder's voice cut through. "Renjiro is our only bridge to the Hokage. You'll ruin everything we've worked for!"
But Elder Rensai stood and scoffed.
"What are you afraid of? Let Renjiro tell that brat Hiruzen everything. Word for word." He narrowed his eyes at Renjiro. "Let him know our patience is not infinite."
Renjiro bowed slightly.
"Yes, Elder Rensai. I will deliver your message."
"Hmph." Rensai turned away, letting the matter drop.
Then the old patriarch, silent until now, finally stood. His gaze swept across the clan like frost.
"You act as though you're ready to start a war. You're not."
"Who do you think we're up against? Sarutobi Sasuke? Still alive. Hyuga Tennin? Alive. The Aburame elders, the Kurama head, Uzumaki Mito herself—they all still live."
"And every one of them stands behind the Hokage."
"You talk about rebellion? If Madara and Hashirama didn't have overwhelming power, there would be no Konoha."
"Everyone wants the seat of Hokage. Anyone can dream of it. But not just anyone gets it."
"Be patient. When our generation is gone—your time will come."
The message was clear: now is not the time.
---
As the meeting wound down, talk shifted to mundane affairs. Hours passed. By midnight, the shrine began to empty.
Naori stood to leave.
But a voice stopped her.
Her grandfather—the clan's patriarch. The man who had once stood beside Madara, and stayed behind to lead the Uchiha in Konoha.
"Naori," he said quietly. "Stay. I have something to tell you."
"Yes, Grandfather."
The hall slowly emptied. Only a few figures remained.
Elder Rensai… and a five- or six-year-old boy who clung quietly to his side.
An elder who was usually warm-hearted stood to leave. At the same time, the older boy named Uchiha Renjiro rose silently behind him, helping him up with quiet care.
They were leaving too.
Naori remained where she was, unmoving.
As he passed, the older boy named Naoki gave her a gentle smile.
But the next pair to approach made her stiffen.
Uchiha Rensai stopped deliberately in front of her. Beside him stood a small boy, no older than five or six, staring at her curiously.
Rensai sneered.
"Tch. Spinning tales out of nothing. You little devil—parlor tricks like yours won't last a lifetime. An Uchiha should act like an Uchiha!"
His voice turned sharp.
"Those eyes of yours are your true strength."
Naori kept her head down, silent.
The old man didn't press further.
Instead, he turned to the boy beside him.
"Kama. Remember this girl. She's the one you must surpass in your lifetime."
At those words, the boy glared at Naori.
It wasn't threatening, not yet—but there was steel in that look.
"Yes, Grandpa!"
And with that, the old man and his grandson left.
Only two remained now.
The clan patriarch turned to her.
"Naori, come here."
"Yes."
She rose quietly and walked forward, seating herself across from him.
"Let me see your eyes."
Naori hesitated, then activated her Sharingan.
The old man's eyes widened in shock.
Three tomoe.
Perfectly formed, calmly rotating in her gaze.
When?
He looked at her with disbelief.
Just now... during the clan's quarrel?
Too kind, he thought.
She's always been too kind.
And yet now—she stood only one step away. One cruel step.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"You know, I've made three great mistakes in my life."
He didn't wait for her to respond.
"The first was believing that Madara would lead us to victory—that he could destroy the Senju completely."
"The second was believing that after Madara left, Konoha would accept the Uchiha as its own."
"The third..." he paused, voice bitter, "was believing the children sent to the Ninja Academy were useless. That only the heirs trained by the clan mattered."
"I misjudged you, Naori."
"Your talent... it's no less than Madara's."
He looked at her, eyes solemn.
"It's a pity you have no siblings."
Naori tilted her head, not quite understanding what he meant by that. But she stayed quiet.
"In the time to come," the old man continued, "you will be the strongest Uchiha of your generation. Even stronger than Naoki."
"If anyone can lead our clan to a new future, it's you."
"I'm too old to understand the shape of that future. Too blind to see it."
"But I hope... I hope the Uchiha will still be here to see it."
He looked at her carefully.
"I've heard you became Lady Mito's disciple?"
"Yes," Naori replied softly.
"Good."
"Be a disciple worthy of her. She offered that kindness to the Uchiha—we must repay her well."
"Yes."
The old man grew serious.
"Naori. Kindness is a virtue. But when the time comes—do not hesitate. If someone stands in the way of the Uchiha's survival, even if they are kin... draw your blade."
"Grandfather..."
"I'm too old. I no longer have the strength to stop the fools among us."
"Just like I couldn't stop Madara back then."
"But you can."
"Don't disappoint me."
"Yes."
Then, in a low voice, he added one last thing.
"And don't become too attached to Maki."
"That kind of feeling... will only bring suffering to the Uchiha."
"This is advice."
"…?"
Naori didn't understand. But the old man said no more.
He stared into the distance, gaze heavy with thought.
Tsunade... the Fourth Hokage?
He had met her as a child. Kind-hearted, like Hashirama. Not like Tobirama.
If she became Hokage...
What would the future look like then?
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