Outside the village of Konoha.
A slight curve lifted Yuzuru Uchiha's lips as he looked at the village, which had begun to stir with commotion.
With such chaos unfolding, even Hiruzen Sarutobi wouldn't be able to suppress the truth.
By sunrise, everyone would know—the Uchiha clan had left Konoha.
A Konoha without the Senju… was it still worthy of the name?
A Hokage without the Uchiha… was he still a Hokage?
Yuzuru darted swiftly through the forest, his figure flickering between the trees.
He didn't use Kamui—wasting his Dōjutsu Power just to travel was not worth the cost.
Then, in the next instant, a figure flashed past him.
Yuzuru stopped sharply as the stranger turned and blocked his path.
"Yuzuru Uchiha!"
The man's silver-white hair gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
Yuzuru raised an eyebrow. "Sakumo Hatake…"
"Where did the Uchiha go? What's your goal? Why did your clan betray Konoha?"
If anyone could answer the questions burning in his mind, it was surely the man standing before him.
Hearing this, Yuzuru said flatly, "This village is filled with darkness and has long since violated the original intention with which we founded it."
"We will do what was done once before—remake the shinobi world into true peace."
Sakumo's heart tightened.
The last time two men spoke like that—Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha—they ended the chaos of the Warring States Era through force.
Could it be that… the Uchiha planned to start another war?
He took a slow breath, then said firmly, "The village now possesses true peace. The Will of Fire burns in every heart. People live together in harmony—how can you speak of darkness and decay?"
Sakumo wasn't a man of many words, but this matter was too important. If there was any chance to reason with Yuzuru, he had to try.
"Ha… hahahahaha!"
Yuzuru's laughter cut through the forest air like a blade. "Sakumo, where do you find the courage to say something so naïve?"
"True peace? You mean the kind where another shinobi war breaks out every few years?"
"The Will of Fire? Is that what you call sending six-year-old children to die on the battlefield while Hiruzen Sarutobi and Danzō Shimura sit comfortably in their offices, enjoying power and privilege?"
"And harmony—do you mean the Anbu's constant, baseless surveillance of the Uchiha, every hour of every day?"
"When the roots are rotten, how can the leaves possibly thrive?"
Sakumo faltered, speechless.
After a long silence, he muttered, almost defensively, "It's all for the greater good…"
"Self-deception," Yuzuru said coldly. "That's just the excuse of those who've already benefited from the system."
"When someone tells you to think of the greater good, it means you're not part of it. When someone tells you sacrifice is necessary, it means you're the sacrifice. When someone tells you to look at the big picture, it means you're meant to give up what's rightfully yours."
"This time, the Uchiha will decide our own fate."
Sakumo clenched his fists, unable to find a counterargument.
At last, he sighed. "Yuzuru Uchiha, no matter what your grievances are, you're coming back with me."
"And if I refuse?"
Sakumo drew the short blade from his back, his chakra flaring like a blade of pure intent. "Then I'll take you by force."
Yuzuru smiled faintly. "Then try me."
Before the words had even faded, Sakumo vanished.
A streak of blinding white light tore through the air toward Yuzuru's chest.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
A massive fireball erupted, engulfing the light—but in the next instant, the white flash split the flames cleanly in two, cutting forward with unstoppable force.
Clang!
Yuzuru drew his blade, sparks flying as he deflected Sakumo's strike.
Then the two clashed in a flurry of motion—so fast it was almost invisible.
Steel sang again and again through the forest, slicing through branches and scattering leaves like storms of shrapnel.
Even with the Mangekyō Sharingan's enhanced vision, Yuzuru felt the pressure mounting.
"Impressive, Sakumo Hatake. Your swordsmanship—sharp, precise, lethal. Among all the opponents I've faced, you may well be the strongest."
Sakumo's style was simple—
Fast. Accurate. Ruthless.
Every strike went straight for a vital point, and his speed bordered on inhuman.
Most jōnin wouldn't survive more than a few exchanges against that onslaught.
But it was Sakumo who now found himself astonished.
He had thought defeating Yuzuru would be effortless.
Yet every attack, every feint, every burst of chakra had been countered.
And this person was only a fourteen-year-old boy.
Clang!
Their blades locked one last time before both sprang back.
Yuzuru stood calm, his breathing steady.
Sakumo's killing intent began to burn hotter.
If he let Yuzuru escape, Konoha could be in grave danger.
"Forgive me," Sakumo murmured. "Everything I do… is for Konoha."
He inhaled deeply, focusing his chakra until it roared through his body like lightning.
Then he vanished, moving faster than the eye could see—his blade cutting clean through the air and the trees beyond.
The shockwave cleaved through the forest for meters ahead, felling trunks like paper.
But from behind him came a voice—calm, mocking.
"Was that your strongest attack?"
Cold sweat broke out across Sakumo's forehead.
That last strike— He had missed?!
Turning slowly, he saw a pair of crimson eyes glowing in the moonlight—unearthly, filled with swirling, otherworldly power.
Yuzuru's blade hung loosely in his hand as he advanced step by step, Dōjutsu Power radiating like a storm.
"There's movement nearby!" voices shouted in the distance. "Go check it out!"
Several shouts came from a short distance away, and Yuzuru Uchiha stopped.
"This fight ends here, Sakumo."
"Remember my words—you're destined to become a sacrifice of politics."
As the air around him distorted, Yuzuru's figure dissolved into rippling space. His final words echoed through the trees:
"My eyes have already seen your future."
For a long moment, Sakumo stood tense, every nerve on edge.
Only when a dozen Anbu appeared around him did he finally let out a long, shaky breath.
That last moment—Yuzuru's presence had been suffocating.
Those eyes…
What were they?
A cold wind swept through the trees, and Sakumo shivered.
He suddenly noticed his clothes—drenched in sweat.
T/n:
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