Uchiha Gen was well aware of White Zetsu's abilities, but he couldn't just lay them out openly.
If he explained everything in front of so many people, that information would inevitably leak back to Obito's group.
Once they realized how deeply Gen understood White Zetsu, it wouldn't take much for them to guess who had sabotaged their spy network in the past.
White Zetsu was their main tool for gathering intelligence, and Gen had already found a way to counter it, though they didn't know how. That alone was enough to earn him Obito's hatred.
Until now, their conflict hadn't reached the point of no return. Obito had even wanted to recruit him, going to great lengths for it. But if they discovered the truth, the hostility between them would sharpen immediately.
It wasn't that Gen feared Obito's group but being targeted by them would be a nuisance.
White Zetsu, Obito, and Black Zetsu all had absurd survival abilities, each one harder to kill than the last. Taking them all down at once was nearly impossible.
At least for him now, the opportunity hadn't yet come.
As for how White Zetsu had matched his chakra, there were only two explanations; either it had been stolen from Orochimaru's lab, or one of them had posed as Orochimaru to obtain it.
Next time they try this, I'll use Soul Perception to trace it, Gen thought.
On the surface, however, his expression remained calm. "The chakra might be the same," he said evenly, "but what about the volume?"
Uchiha Tadao blinked, caught off guard by the angle of the question. He hadn't expected Gen to challenge him on that point. Still, he answered honestly:
"There was some difference in chakra volume. His… was a bit larger than yours."
Of course it was. In the Fourth Ninja War, a White Zetsu enhanced with Yamato had managed a cheap imitation of Hashirama's True Several Thousand Hands. Compared to that, Gen's chakra reserves were indeed smaller.
Gen's eyes narrowed. "My chakra at its peak doesn't fluctuate much. That alone is a loophole in your story."
Uzume!
As he spoke, Gen's right eye pulsed with power. His gaze brushed over Uchiha Tadao, then swept across the elders seated on either side.
Like genjutsu, Uzume had an activation sequence. Once released, it consumed the same amount of power whether it struck one person or several.
Sasuke, in the Fourth War, had used a genjutsu to subdue all nine tailed beasts in a single glance.
Under its influence, Tadao, who had been about to object that 'chakra volume can be disguised,' found his words bending as they left his mouth.
"You're right. It is a loophole. A larger chakra pool can more easily impersonate a smaller one, but the reverse is far harder."
Gen let the silence stretch, then asked coldly, "Do you all agree?"
"I agree," Uchiha Setsuna said first, his voice steady and full of weight.
The Second and Third Elders followed, as did Shisui and Mikoto, each compelled by the ocular power. Their solemn nods spread confidence through the room.
Gen pressed on. "And what if your perception itself was deceived? What if the chakra wasn't identical at all, but mimicked?"
He leaned forward slightly, his tone hardening. "Remember the Nine-Tails' attack. The mastermind then used strange white humanoids disguised as Mist ninja to assault Konoha's Anbu. They weren't detected beforehand and were indistinguishable from real shinobi until they were killed and exposed."
His eyes sharpened. "The same thing happened on the Whirlpool battlefield. Those white things posed as Konoha envoys until I struck them down. Some of you here witnessed that. The rest can confirm it."
He paused, then concluded: "I can't prove my innocence with this alone but it should at least make you doubt the easy answer, shouldn't it?"
Fugaku was already dead. Gen no longer needed to tiptoe around the old power structure. If fate handed him an opening, he would seize it cleanly, without stain.
Authority gained in shadow always carried a fatal weakness.
Setsuna exhaled, nodding. "It is unusual indeed."
Others murmured their agreement. The tide of opinion began to shift.
Gen pressed the advantage. "Let me be blunt. If I wanted the Clan Head dead, why would I need anyone's help? My Mangekyo Sharingan is more than enough."
Gasps rippled through the ranks at the bluntness of his words.
He went on, steady and unhurried. "Shuryu, Shizukamaru, and Kyouki aren't alternate bloodlines. The Uchiha have never had a second kekkei genkai. They are creations, creatures forged from my Mangekyo's power."
His gaze swept the room. "And that's only one facet of my ability. I won't detail the other, but know this; it is stronger still. What possible reason would I have to collaborate with the Nine-Tails' mastermind, when the only thing it gives me is a leash?"
"Power. Status. A future. A clan that treats me as one of their own. A happy life. You think I'd trade all of that for running and hiding like a dog?"
He let his words sink in. "If I craved power above all, I would have revealed these eyes long ago. With my strength, my reputation across the shinobi world, Orochimaru's backing, and the Mangekyo Sharingan… I'd already be standing shoulder to shoulder with Fugaku."
A murmur swept the room.
"Not too much at all," Setsuna declared immediately, his agreement sharp and firm.
Gen's brow lifted in faint surprise. What's this? First to agree every time… even though his son-in-law is dead? Shouldn't he be angry?
Setsuna met his look with a kindly smile, undeterred.
Mikoto, sitting beside Gen, glanced at her father in quiet astonishment. Isn't he being a little too enthusiastic?
But Setsuna's eyes never left Gen.
Shisui hesitated, then nodded as well. He remembered their deep talk on the training ground—he couldn't believe Gen was capable of such treachery.
The other elders began to follow, one after another. The wave was building.
Gen raised his voice, projecting it outward. "What about the rest of you?"
The clan answered in a rising chorus.
"Not too much!"
"Lord Gen, we believe you!"
"Lord Gen, we trust you!"
The voices spread, swelling from a trickle to a roar. Nanga Shrine shook with their conviction. Even outside, ordinary clansfolk turned their heads toward the hall, curious at the sound.
Nearly ninety percent of the clan had spoken. Those who remained silent did so out of caution, not dissent.
Gen bowed low, his shoulders shaking. "Thank you. Thank you for your trust."
When he lifted his head, his Mangekyo Sharingan gleamed wet with restrained tears.
The Uchiha were people of deep emotion. Seeing him moved, their hearts surged with pride. They had given him their faith, and he had been touched by it.
Of course, Gen's display had an element of performance but there was truth in it as well. That sincerity sealed the last cracks of doubt in the room.
He sat again, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and fixed his gaze on Uchiha Da.
"Tell me, Tadao. Doesn't it strike you as odd that you survived?"
Tadao stiffened, paling. "Lord Gen, I only told the truth of what I saw. I didn't exaggerate, didn't omit, and I certainly never meant to frame you!"
Gen waved dismissively. "I don't mean you colluded with them. I mean you were used."
Tadao blinked. "Used…?"
"The Clan Head and the others are dead. Why were you the only one left standing? You said their corpses bore fatal wounds. Were yours fatal?"
Tadao swallowed. "Not… immediately. But I could easily have bled out in the snow. When I woke, my bandages were torn, blood everywhere. If I hadn't regained consciousness quickly, I'd have died."
Gen shook his head. "Still doesn't add up. You said you were hit during a clash of fire techniques, and ambushed by a white monster. Fine. Let's say you were lucky. But when three more attacked you in close quarters, why didn't they land a single fatal blow?"
His voice sharpened. "Why waste time bending down to tear your bandages instead of stabbing your vitals? That's redundancy, not efficiency. And these creatures we've seen they are merciless. The Nine-Tails' night proved that. Since when do they make such rookie mistakes?"
Tadao's eyes trembled.
Memories he hadn't processed before surfaced, white creatures striking awkwardly, avoiding killing blows, clumsy angles that no trained shinobi would use.
"You're remembering now," Gen said quietly.
Tadao bowed his head. "…Yes, Lord Gen. My survival is strange indeed. I apologize. I misunderstood you."
He bent lower, pressing his forehead to the floor in a dogeza.
Gen sighed. "Get up. I don't blame you. The enemy is too cunning. You couldn't have known."
Tears welled in Tadao's eyes as he rose. "Thank you, Lord Gen. You've lifted a weight from my heart."
Gen let his hand fall, his voice turning cold. "The mastermind's plan was clear. To leave me cornered, with no path but theirs."
Setsuna leaned forward. "Why do you say that?"
Gen's tone hardened. "On the Whirlpool battlefield, the mastermind tried to recruit me. I told him, half in jest, that unless I was driven from Konoha with nothing left, I'd never join him. It seems he believed me. He set this trap to strip me of everything, Fugaku's mission was the perfect cover."
His eyes burned. "They gained three things; a harvest of Sharingan, a blow to Konoha's strength, and the chance to frame me. Three birds with one stone.
Even if I'm still alive, they've half succeeded. That's how venomous they are."
Setsuna slammed his palm to the floor. "So that's it! Cunning, insidious, ruthless. A formidable enemy indeed. But Gen, don't bear the guilt. Fugaku's fate was sealed the moment he left. The real culprit is them—and them alone. Isn't that right, everyone?"
"Right!" the clan roared back, voices united.
Even Mikoto, grief still raw, found herself nodding.
For all their faults, the Uchiha could still tell black from white.
They would not sink into blaming the victim.