In the depths of the dense forest, two cloaked figures stood upon tree trunks. Shadows swallowed their forms, only thin slivers of moonlight filtering through the canopy above.
One wore an orange mask. The other kept half his face hidden in darkness. He gave a near-imperceptible nod.
"How did it go?"
That voice… Uchiha Tadao, crouched behind a broad tree trunk, froze. His ears rang. Why does that sound so familiar?
Obito's low tone cut through his thoughts. "You can rest assured, I've already killed Fugaku and the others."
Tadao's breath caught. His teeth ground together, fists tightening until his nails bit into flesh. His Sharingan swirled, eyes burning with hatred.
"Well done," the shadowed man replied smoothly. "It's a pleasure working with you. With this, I'm one step closer, Elder, Vice-Clan Head, perhaps even… Clan Head."
He shifted, just slightly. His face tilted into the pale moonlight.
The features revealed were striking, refined, handsome, unmistakable.
Uchiha Gen.
Tadao's pupils dilated. He jerked his head back, slamming both hands over his mouth to muffle the gasp threatening to escape.
Gen? Impossible…!
The disbelief nearly shattered him. But Tadao was no child. He forced his panic down, breathing slow and steady, instincts as a seasoned shinobi taking over.
Quietly, he formed hand seals, activating a Perception Ninjutsu. The subtle chakra threads reached outward, recording the chakra signatures of both Obito and Gen, capturing every detail. Only then did he dare peek out again.
"I've done my part," Gen said coolly. "Don't forget our agreement."
Obito rested a hand on his shoulder. "I won't."
His Mangekyō twisted. Space warped into a spiraling vortex, and in the blink of an eye, both figures were swallowed into Kamui's void.
Tadao did not move. Not yet.
He forced himself to remain perfectly still, breathing shallow. Only after several long minutes did he stir. He slipped a Military Ration Pill between his teeth, swallowing hard, and then carefully emerged from hiding.
The battlefield was silent.
Tadao spent half an hour searching, dragging the fallen together. Fugaku's body lay at the front, the other six arranged in two neat rows beside him.
Seven in total.
Snowflakes drifted, settling on lifeless faces turned pale with death. The cold stiffened their bodies; blood had long dried. Wind howled through the trees, tugging at Tadao's hair.
He stared, chest heaving, grief and rage consuming him. The memory of what he had seen, the voice, the face, the betrayal—boiled inside until it tore free.
"Ahhhh!"
His cry ripped into the night, raw and trembling, carrying hatred into the empty sky.
When his breath finally stilled, his Sharingan flared—the two tomoe split, twisted, and became three.
The Three-Tomoe Sharingan burned crimson in his eyes.
Wordlessly, Da leapt to a nearby tree. His hands blurred through seals.
"Fire Release: Fireball!"
A blazing fireball roared forth, striking the ground. Snow hissed into steam, earth split, and a pit gaped wide. Again he spat flames, enlarging the grave.
One by one, he lowered the bodies. Fugaku he placed in the center. The others he arranged carefully around him, their last resting place shared. He shoveled earth back over them, smoothing the mound with trembling hands, then marked it with a single sign.
Only then did he turn away, cloak heavy with frost and grief, and begin the long walk back toward Konoha.
At that same hour, far from the battlefield, Fugaku's blood stirred unease in those bound to him.
Mikoto, at home preparing lunch for Sasuke, cut her hand, something her practiced hands had never done before.
Sasuke, only two years old, tripped hard in the living room, his wails echoing through the house. Mikoto dropped the knife, rushing to comfort him, the sting in her own hand forgotten.
At the Ninja Academy training grounds, Itachi sparred with a classmate. Normally untouchable, he was struck by a simple punch—something that had never happened before. He won the match, but the unease clung to him.
Whether bloodline or kinship, the bond was undeniable. Fugaku's death echoed across them all.
Two days later, as dusk painted the sky, Uchiha Tadao returned. His clan uniform was gone, replaced by the plain clothes of a traveler, blending with the merchant caravan entering the gates of Konoha.
But he did not return straight to the Uchiha compound. First, he sought out a Police Force patrol and inquired discreetly.
"Is Uchiha Gen in the village?"
When they confirmed he was not, Tadao turned at last toward the clan grounds. His steps carried him to the Clan Head's home.
The door slid open. Mikoto stood framed in the doorway. At the sight of Tadao, her heart clenched. The premonition she had carried for two days reached its peak.
"Tadao… why are you back so soon?" she asked, forcing a smile, her voice trembling beneath its calm.
Da bowed his head. "Madam… the Clan Head is in trouble. Please summon the Elders at once."
Mikoto's blood ran cold. "What happened?"
"Forgive me, Madam. It is too grave to speak here. The Elders must hear it immediately." His voice strained with urgency.
Mikoto swallowed the rising dread. "Very well. Come in. Rest a moment. I'll send word."
Within minutes, the three Elders and Uchiha Shisui, freshly returned from a mission, arrived in haste. They gathered in the tearoom, their faces grim.
"Tadao," the First Elder, Uchiha Setsuna, demanded. "What has happened to Fugaku?"
Tadao's expression twisted with anguish. "After leaving the Land of Fire and entering the Whirlpool Country, we were ambushed by the mastermind of the Nine-Tails Night....By the disgrace of the Uchiha."
Gasps echoed.
"Except for me, who by chance survived, the Clan Head and the others… were all slain. Their Sharingan taken."
"What?!"
"How could this be?!"
"Impossible!"
"This must be false!"
Shock rippled through the room. The Elders, Mikoto, Shisui, all cried out at once.
"Silence!" Setsuna's voice cracked like thunder. His face was carved from stone. "Tadao, do you know the weight of your words? You will be held accountable."
"I am willing," Tadao said firmly.
"Then speak. Tell us everything, from the beginning."
Tadao recounted it all. The ambush. Fugaku's final stand. The slaughter. And then the meeting in the shadows.
"Lies!" Shisui exploded, slamming his palms onto the table. His face was pale, furious. "Gen would never do such a thing!"
"Lord Shisui," Tadao said wearily, "I wish it were false. But I saw him. Voice, face, body, demeanor, every detail. My Sharingan found no flaw."
"So what?!" Shisui shot back. "Even a Three-Tomoe Sharingan cannot pierce every trick. Voices can be mimicked. Faces can be transformed. Nothing you've said proves it was Gen."
Tadao hesitated, then bowed his head. "Which is why I recorded their chakra signatures with Perception Ninjutsu. If those signatures match…"
Shisui leaned forward again. "And if they do? Does that prove it was him?"
His eyes blazed. "Listen, Tadao. I know Gen. I trust him. And I ask you plainly, can you swear there isn't a Transformation Technique in this world capable of mimicking another's chakra?"