We were well into our travels before anyone spoke. The forest was quiet, unnaturally so until my father finally broke the silence.
"Shinji. Shisui. Do either of you know why I assembled a unit like this with only three shinobi?"
Shisui glanced at me but said nothing. I already knew the answer went deeper than appearances. It can't just be to show the village we care, I thought. An all-Uchiha team alone would have done that.
I spoke up.
"You said it was to show the village how seriously we take deserters. But it's also to recover their Sharingan. A dōjutsu like that can't be left in the wild. That's why the Hyūga use seals."
Father looked over the rest of the Uchiha, then let out a humorless laugh.
"Correct. A team of this caliber shows resolve but more importantly, it ensures this matter stays within the clan. There is no guarantee another clan wouldn't get greedy and take the Sharingan for themselves."
His eyes hardened.
"That is something I will not allow."
I clenched my fists.
"Father… with all due respect, you're treating Konoha shinobi like scavengers. If we can't trust our own comrades, how is a village supposed to flourish?"
He answered immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the challenge.
"A village's strength comes from its clans. The Uchiha remain strong because we understand that truth. When clans flourish, the village rises with them."
I considered his words and saw the flaw.
"So clans join villages to survive? Not because they believe in the people, or the dream? The village was founded to protect children, to end endless war."
Fugaku's mouth twisted into a sneer.
"And look how that dream rewarded us. After Hashirama stepped down, Madara was overlooked for Hokage, a founding father, the second strongest shinobi of his era, perhaps of all time passed over because of his name."
His voice sharpened.
"The village was happy to use Madara as a deterrent, but never to trust him with leadership. And it did the same to those who followed him."
"They rebelled," Fugaku continued, "because the village demanded everything and gave nothing. Just as it did to Madara."
Heat rose in my chest.
"I can't agree. A shinobi's duty is to endure. If they deserted, that's on them. And Madara, according to the records, wanted to rule through force. Hashirama wanted peace."
Shisui stepped forward beside me.
"Yes, Fugaku-sama. I agree with Shinji."
To my surprise, Taido nodded as well.
"Uchiha or not, a shinobi serves the village. We're all overworked. That doesn't justify desertion."
The air grew tense. The other Uchiha shifted, clearly siding with my father. Before it could escalate, Fugaku raised a hand.
"That discussion will wait. We're close to where the missing-nin were last reported."
His Sharingan spun open.
"Activate your dōjutsu. Look for tracks."
We moved quickly, scanning the dirt, the trees, and broken branches until Jiro's voice rang out.
"Fugaku-sama. Footprints, heading east. Fresh. No signs of pursuit."
Fugaku crouched to inspect them.
"Good work. Kunai formation. Eastward."
He took point, Taido beside him. Then me, then Shisui, followed by Jiro, Raki, and Akiro bringing up the rear.
We didn't go far before the forest opened into devastation.
What had once been a camp now looked like a battlefield—scorched earth, shattered branches, blood darkening the soil.
Fugaku spoke quietly.
"Use your Sharingan. Find out what happened here. The fight is recent; the attackers can't be too far."
A branch snapped.
We all turned as a figure emerged from the mouth of a cave. At first, only a silhouette… and something clutched in his hands.
We assumed our stances.
As he stepped closer, my stomach dropped.
It was a boy. Blood streaked his face. His clothes were burned and torn. Where his eyes should have been, there were only empty, ruined sockets.
He stumbled forward, holding out a mask.
Fugaku's voice caught.
"Kaido… What happened? Who attacked you?"
Kaido tried to speak. Only a wet gurgle came out, blood spilling from his mouth. He took another step, forced the mask into Fugaku's hands, and collapsed without another sound.
Silence.
Fugaku stared at the mask, his fist tightening until his knuckles went white.
He muttered a single name.
"Danzō."
Then he snapped his head up.
"Double time. Back to the village."
No one questioned it. The older jōnin understood. The rest of us felt dread without knowing why.
As we raced through the forest, movement caught my eye ahead.
A team, eight shinobi.
We surged forward. My father didn't hesitate. A massive fireball erupted from his mouth, slamming into one of them from behind.
No one survives that, I thought.
The shinobi stood back up.
Burned. Broken. And unmoved, as if pain meant nothing.
They regrouped quickly. My instincts took over.
"If they have the Sharingan, they'll try to slow us down while others escape. We can't let them split us."
I pointed ahead.
"Shisui and I will handle the injured one. The rest of you take the others. We'll regroup after."
I looked to my father.
Fugaku nodded.
"Do it. He's already dead and just hasn't realized it yet."
His gaze hardened.
"Everyone else, attack with everything you've got."
And then we moved.