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Naruto looked at the back of Duan Li, confused. He was just a kid who didn't understand anything—what could he possibly do to help?
But… that uncle's recognition still warmed his heart.
Oops.
It wasn't until Duan disappeared at the end of the street that Naruto remembered he'd forgotten to say thank you.
Just as he was feeling annoyed, the barbecue shop's former employee came out with a food box.
"Little devil, hurry up," the man said, stuffing the meal into Naruto's hands, his tone edged with jealousy.
That luxury set cost five thousand ryō—equivalent to a month's wages for an ordinary villager. Very few in Konoha could afford it.
This brat really got lucky.
Naruto took the heavy box but didn't leave immediately. "That… may I ask, that Mr. Duan from before—where does he live?"
The employee told him about the Uchiha gym—the "Body Reform Department." Naruto quietly memorized the address.
He felt truly lucky today—someone had finally been kind to him.
Since he could remember, no one had treated him that way, apart from the old man who sometimes came to check on him.
He would definitely visit and thank Mr. Duan properly.
Snap.
Naruto lifted the lid of the food box. The rich scent of roasted meat filled his nose, making his mouth water.
Finally—no more instant noodles.
Naruto sniffed, eyes stinging with emotion.
Should he share this feast with a friend?
No. He had none.
The thought made his smile fade.
Carrying the meal, he walked home alone under the dimming sunset.
---
Uchiha Clan District
Duan arrived at the Police Department building, holding a fruit basket. The guards straightened immediately upon seeing him.
Today, Uchiha Duan was the clan's rising star.
"Where's the recovery room? I came to check on Itachi and Shisui," Duan said.
Before long, Fugaku appeared and offered to guide him personally. As captain of the Police Force, he spoke proudly of the divisions and officers under his command while leading Duan inside.
In the recovery room, Itachi stood beside the bed where Shisui lay pale and weak.
"Itachi, I'm sorry. I couldn't defeat Duan. He's… far too strong," Shisui admitted, guilt twisting his face.
"You've done your best," Itachi said softly. "Rest and recover."
Shisui sighed, studying his junior's calm expression. "I spoke with Lord Third before this," he said quietly. "He allowed me to withdraw from regular missions and monitor Uchiha freely. But now, since I can't report, I'm leaving this duty to you."
Both had heard the growing rumors in the village—claims that Uchiha, with three pairs of Mangekyō Sharingan, plotted rebellion. The rumors weren't entirely false, yet they twisted everything beyond recognition.
At least Shisui's loyalty had never wavered.
He wanted Itachi to clarify the misunderstanding before it devoured both clan and village.
"I understand," Itachi said solemnly and turned for the door.
But Iron Fire blocked his path.
"The Patriarch's orders—no one leaves during this period. Please return to your room."
Itachi's eyes darkened. He wanted to resist but realized he was in the heart of the Police Department—escaping was impossible without bloodshed. Reluctantly, he stepped back.
---
Creak.
The door opened again.
Duan entered, carrying the fruit basket, Fugaku beside him.
The Uchiha's "Three Mangekyō" were now gathered in one room.
"Hey, up already? Impressive, nephew," Duan said casually, glancing at Itachi. Maybe the beating was too light, he thought.
Itachi's lips tightened. He said nothing.
"Itachi, greet your uncle," Fugaku scolded.
"…Hello, Uncle," Itachi muttered.
"Good." Duan's massive hand came down, roughly ruffling his hair before he pushed him aside.
Then his gaze fell on Shisui.
After a brief silence, Duan spoke flatly.
"Tell me, Shisui—do you believe, with the power of the Patriarch, yours, and mine combined, we could overthrow the current Konoha leadership and take control?"
Shisui froze. The question was direct, dangerous.
He'd considered it before. Theoretically—it was possible.
His Kotoamatsukami could control even the Hokage if used correctly. And Duan's strength was monstrous—his hidden Mangekyō ability unknown.
Yet, after a pause, Shisui shook his head firmly.
"I don't agree with rebellion. I believe peace between the clan and the village can be achieved."
His tone burned with conviction—the true Will of Fire.
Fugaku frowned. "Shisui, you—"
But Duan only stared.
Idealists, he thought. Always the same.
After awakening the Mangekyō, the eye's ability always reflected one's essence.
Kotoamatsukami—"Other Gods"—a genjutsu that could rewrite wills without resistance. It was only natural that Shisui himself could never be swayed.
Unless he died—and lived again.
Otherwise, his conviction would never bend.
"So be it," Duan said coldly. "Then we have nothing more to discuss."
Before anyone could react, his hand shot out—straight toward Shisui's face.
"Uncle! What are you—" Itachi shouted in alarm.
Shisui tried to activate his Mangekyō—too late.
Smash—Za Warudo!
Time stopped.
For five seconds, the world froze in black and white.
Duan moved like a phantom, gouging out Shisui's eyes in two swift motions. Blood splattered silently in stillness.
Then—time resumed.
"AHHH!"
Shisui's scream pierced the air. His hands covered the bloody voids where his eyes had been.
In Duan's grasp—two fresh Sharingan glistened.
The room fell silent.
"Itachi!" Shisui gasped, trembling in agony.
"Uncle, how could you?!" Itachi's eyes flared scarlet, the tomoe spinning violently.
Duan regarded him coolly.
"So much rage. I almost thought you'd awaken the Mangekyō here and now," he mocked. "But it seems Shisui's life doesn't mean enough to you."
Itachi trembled, fists bleeding from how tightly he clenched them.
"Don't… Itachi." Shisui's weak hand grasped his arm. "Don't fight him."
Duan exhaled, bored.
"I'll hold onto these eyes—for Uchiha's sake. When Shisui understands what must be done, I'll return them."
He took out a sterile glass container, dropped both eyes into the preserving fluid, sealed it inside a chakra-bound scroll, and slipped it into his robes.
Only he could open it.
Itachi turned desperately toward his father.
"Father!"
Fugaku sighed. "Itachi, your uncle did what had to be done."
In troubled times, ruthlessness was mercy.
Fugaku knew Shisui's ideals endangered the clan. Someone had to act—the villain's role fell to Duan.
Itachi's despair deepened.
"And one more thing," Duan added, turning to Fugaku. "Resign Itachi from Anbu. If you don't, Konoha's leaders will twist him against us."
Fugaku nodded without hesitation. "You'll personally guide him? Excellent. There's no better teacher."
They both smiled, but to Itachi—those smiles were demonic.
Anbu had been his path toward unity, his dream of becoming Hokage, of ending hatred.
Now—his own kin had torn it from him.
As Itachi and Shisui's hearts broke, Duan and Fugaku left the ward.
---
Outside, Iron Fire saluted them, concerned. "Patriarch, what happened? I heard screams—"
"Bandage Shisui's wounds. And keep quiet," Fugaku ordered sternly.
Iron Fire entered, gasping at the sight of Shisui's mutilated eyes.
Was this… Duan's doing?
---
Later, in Fugaku's office:
"Duan, without blood relation, the chance of transplant failure is high. Be cautious," Fugaku warned gravely.
He assumed Duan intended to gain an Eternal Mangekyō.
Duan shook his head. "I've no need for that. When Shisui comes to understand, I'll return his eyes."
In truth, he hadn't even awakened his Mangekyō yet. But he had gained something far more useful.
"By the way, brother-in-law," he asked casually, "are there any spare Sharingan in the clan?"
Fugaku blinked, then nodded.
"Of course. We've recovered over twenty pairs from fallen members—ranging from single tomoe to full three-tomoe."
Duan smiled faintly. "Good. Prepare one pair of three-tomoe for me."
Fugaku misunderstood again, assuming it was for Shisui's surgery. "Very well."
Duan turned to leave.
"Wait, Duan. Tonight's clan meeting—we'll discuss how to handle the rumors about us," Fugaku called.
"I'm busy tonight," Duan replied with a faint smirk, vanishing down the hall.
---
Night fell.
On a high ridge overlooking Konoha, Obito stood silently as the moon rose.
From the ground, the twin forms of Black and White Zetsu emerged.
"Obito," said Black Zetsu, "to strike Uchiha effectively, it's time you reclaimed your left eye."
They had already informed him that Kakashi's Sharingan—his Sharingan—had nearly been taken by Duan.
White Zetsu chuckled. "Yeah, Kakashi wastes that Mangekyō copying jutsu all day. What a joke."
Obito sneered. "That man's a fake."
But then his voice dropped, cold and deliberate. "I won't take the eye back."
"What? Why?" the two asked in unison.
Obito's expression darkened. "Because I want Kakashi to suffer."
He gazed toward Konoha. "As long as that eye remains, he'll remember what he did to Rin—what he did to me. Let him live in guilt until death."
White Zetsu clapped mockingly. "That's so like you."
Black Zetsu watched him quietly. Beneath the cruelty, he saw the lingering bond. Obito's heart was not yet stone.
"But if the Uchiha ever reclaim that eye," Black Zetsu warned, "they'll discover its power. Then what?"
Obito smirked. "They won't live that long."
He raised his hand toward the village, the moonlight gleaming off his mask.
"I'll spark the war between Konoha and Uchiha myself—and let them destroy each other."
He'd done it once during the Nine-Tails' Night. If it failed then, he'd simply finish the job now.
As he spoke, a thunderous explosion echoed in the distance.
Flames lit the sky over Konoha.
"That's… the Police Department prison," Black Zetsu observed. "A riot?"
Obito's lips twisted into a grin.
"Heh. Seems I won't even need to start the fire this time."
The good show had already begun.
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