By midday, the sun was already hanging high over Konoha.At Naka Shrine, two Uchiha guards lingered at the gate, listening to the muffled shouting from inside.
"Six hours," one muttered, checking the sky. "The jōnin have been yelling for six straight hours."
"Yeah," the other stretched lazily. "At this rate they'll still be at it by sundown."
"I mean… the elder's idea to cultivate a clan genius wasn't bad. Why are they fighting it?"
"Probably just fighting for the sake of fighting. Heard the Hokage's council was like that yesterday. One person pulls your leg, you yank someone's arm, someone else grabs someone's hair."
Their conversation stopped when a small figure sprinted down the road toward them.Uchiha Itachi, clutching a lunch box, panting lightly.
"Father's still inside?" he asked.
The guards nodded but warned him softly.
"Clan Head is in the middle of discussion with the jōnin. Be careful."
Itachi slipped between them and stepped into the courtyard.
A whistle split the air.He looked up. A chair flew at him like a thrown boulder.Itachi bent backward, palms hitting the ground, the chair shaving past his nose and exploding against the wall.
Cracks spidered across the plaster.
He dusted himself off calmly.He was four years old now.He'd seen this too many times to be shocked.
Inside, the battle raged.
"Old man, with a backside that heavy, you really think you'd sit steady as the Seventh Hokage?!"
"Uchiha Tobika! Plans! Do you even know what planning is?! If we follow the plan step by step, why shouldn't the Seventh Hokage be one of us?!"
"I want the Fifth Hokage position! Why isn't there a plan for that?! The Fourth isn't even dead yet, and you're already aiming at the Seventh! Such vision!"
Itachi hesitated at the threshold, knocked twice, and stepped in as the doors opened.
Instantly, dozens of Sharingan turned to him.Even as a child, he felt it—like the air itself pressing down.
He placed the lunch box on his father's desk, retreated behind Fūgaku, and scanned the room.
One elder's nose was swollen.Another's cheek was puffed up.One jōnin's hair had been burned into curls.Another was still coughing up black smoke.
A battlefield.
And Naka Shrine gathered all the… functional lunatics of the clan.Itachi retreated two more steps.
Tobika stood atop a table like a lecturer, unfazed. He pulled out a sheet of paper.
"I compiled this from pre–founding Uchiha history. Quotes and behavior from Lord Madara and Lord Izuna.Read the past to understand the present; understand the past to predict the future."
He cleared his throat.
"Uchiha Izuna: To seize power in the village, we need a reason, an alliance with Senju, and support from other clans. We get three-tenths of the power."
Madara: "Why only three?"
"Izuna: Seven go to the Senju. We get three."
Madara: "Whose face do we have to look at for this?"
Izuna points at Hashirama's portrait: "His."
Madara: "I came all this way… to look at his face?"
Izuna: "Yes."
Madara: "I also have to fabricate excuses?"
Izuna: "Yes."
Madara: "And court the Senju?"
Izuna: "Yes."
Madara: "And I still only get three-tenths?!"
Izuna: "Correct."
Madara: "So I'm… kneeling for scraps?"
Izuna: "If you put it that way, yes. And plenty of clans want to kneel but lack the strength."
Madara: "Why do you think I activate Susanoo every time I enter the Senju compound? Because my legs can't bend! I refuse to kneel!"
Izuna: "Then you want to stand while fighting for power? Please return to the mountains."
Madara: "I don't get it. I'm one of the two founders of Konoha, and somehow striking out on our own was more dignified!"
Izuna: "Founders to the world. Beggars to the Senju. That's politics."
Madara: "Embarrassing! Absolutely embarrassing!"
Izuna: "So do you want to stand, or do you want power?"
Madara: "I want to stand… and take the Hokage seat!"
Izuna: "Impossible."
Madara: "Impossible?!"
Izuna: "Impossible."
Madara points at Uchiha relics: "What about this?!"
Izuna: "Possible… but kneeling."
"And this?!" He points at the clan crest.
Izuna: "Possible… with other villages."
Madara: "Then this plus this—can it win power?!"
Izuna: "Where does your confidence come from?"
Madara opens his Mangekyō.
Laughter rippled through the elders.
Tobika continued.
"You know the rest. Izuna died to Tobirama. Lord Madara buried his grief, worked with Hashirama, and helped build Konoha… then lost to the First.My point is simple: Lord Izuna already found the path for us.If the Uchiha want the Hokage seat, we forge ties with the Senju and gather support from the village."
The elders exchanged looks.Many of them had once admired Izuna.And with the Senju down to a single surviving member… the power dynamic had changed.
Tobika pressed on.
"So, Clan Head, for the future of the Uchiha… when are you getting divorced?"
Fūgaku's face darkened.
A meeting meant to discuss Cloud–Uchiha involvement was now about Hokage politics… and then somehow about his marriage.
Three lines from Tobika.Two were about him divorcing Mikoto.
Before Fūgaku could speak, someone stood.
"Ninth, what are you doing?"Uchiha Eighth glared at his younger brother.
"I'm moving," Ninth said simply, picking up his table.He looked at Tobika.
"I don't hate the Senju. I just want a future I can see. Listening to these old men, I realized I won't see sunlight in fifty years.So I'm changing direction."
Eighth's expression twisted.
Twenty years of raising his little brother… only for him to defect to Tobika's insane camp.
Worse—Tobika's camp had exactly two people.
Tobika grinned."Good choice, Ninth. My team has been waiting for someone like you."
Ninth froze.He looked at Tobika.Then at himself.Then at the two-man… organization.
His eyes grew moist.
Thus, a clan assembly meant to discuss war turned into another debate about how the Uchiha could produce a Hokage candidate.
When the meeting ended, Itachi sprinted home.
Skidding into the kitchen doorway, he peeked in.
"Mother, I'm back."
Mikoto smiled warmly, then subtly angled her glance toward Naka Shrine.
"The meeting ran long today. Must've been intense, hm?"
Itachi hesitated.His mother had asked him to report everything from the clan meetings.
He recounted it all.
The sound of chopping grew heavier.Sharper.
"M…mother," he whispered, "you're cutting your finger."
"It's fine."Mikoto rinsed the blood under the faucet, jaw tight.
"Just… a kitchen accident."