"I am Nima!"
Danzo nearly lost control as Andrew's words struck him like a slap in the face.
"Uchiha Andrew! Don't push your luck!" Danzo snarled, barely holding back. "The old man only took the right eye—I didn't touch the left!"
Andrew ignored him. He didn't even bother to respond, simply turning his eyes toward the Third Hokage. Behind him, the entire Uchiha crowd mirrored his gaze, wearing the same expression:
You deal with this.
"Danzo, that's enough."
Sarutobi Hiruzen sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Return Shisui's left eye. Now."
The pressure in his voice was undeniable. The goal now wasn't about who was right—it was about calming the Uchiha before everything spiraled out of control.
"Hiruzen, you—"
Danzo trembled with rage. But what could he say? His guilt was apparent. If he truly hadn't taken the eye, there would be proof. But with Shisui lying unconscious, the narrative was no longer in his hands—and worst of all, Andrew had seized control of the moment.
Even if Danzo hadn't taken the eye, he still had to admit guilt.
"I… I didn't bring the left eye with me…"
His words were bitter, each one dragged out like a blade against his throat.
He had no choice but to accept the accusation. Denying it now would only make him look worse, and the damage was already done.
"In that case," Fugaku spoke coldly, "I ask the Hokage to oversee its immediate return. We will wait for your good news."
With that, he waved his hand, and the Uchiha began filing back into their compound, eyes still burning with distrust and contempt.
As the gates of the Uchiha district closed behind them, Hiruzen finally exhaled. The immediate crisis had been averted—but the damage was undeniable.
Behind him, the heads of the major clans stared, their faces unreadable. Their silence was louder than words.
This wasn't just about Uchiha anymore. This was about trust—trust in the Hokage's leadership. And that trust had cracked.
The old man raised his hand and gestured for the assembled ninjas to disperse.
His heart was heavy.
Tonight, there had been no bloodshed. But the damage to Konoha's unity was irreversible.
Later, in the Hokage's office, Sarutobi Hiruzen sat at his desk, the familiar pipe clenched tightly between his fingers—but he didn't light it.
"Danzo…"
He had been burned—badly.
No matter how he tried to spin the events of the night, the simple truth remained: Danzo had acted without authorization, had violated one of Konoha's most sacred laws, and had nearly dragged the entire village into a civil war.
Even worse, everyone knew that Danzo and the Hokage were always seen as being aligned.
So now, even if Danzo alone bore the blame, the stink of complicity clung to him as well.
And the Uchiha… they were united like never before.
Meanwhile, back in the Uchiha compound, the mood was far from calm.
Though they had returned without a fight, the energy in the room was electric. The clan meeting hall was packed. Dozens of shinobi stood gathered around the central dais, murmuring, exchanging glances, still seething.
Then, Itachi stepped forward and laid a small, sealed container on the table. The room fell into stunned silence.
Inside the container—Shisui's left eye.
Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.
"Wait… Danzo didn't even have the left eye?"
"He only took one? Who gouges out just one eye?"
Andrew shrugged, casually leaning back against the wall. "Guess he's hoarding more Sharingan than we thought."
His words triggered another wave of fury.
"That snake… he's probably taken more before Shisui!"
"Shameless old bastard, accusing us of evil while stealing our bloodline like a vulture!"
The entire room erupted in outrage.
It was Fugaku who finally raised a hand to calm them.
"Enough."
His voice was firm. "Danzo will be dealt with in time. But for now, we need to talk about us—and our future with the village."
As clan head, Fugaku had to act with balance. He couldn't afford to be swept away by emotion like the others. His duty was to protect the clan—not just avenge it.
"You all saw it tonight. The entire village surrounded our home. I don't need to explain what that means."
The Fourth Elder, always the most combative of the bunch, sneered.
"Hmph! Do we even need to talk about it? The village already showed their hand. They want us gone!"
"Exactly why we must change our approach," the Fifth Elder countered quickly.
"Let's start with the police department. That's always been our public face. If we show the village we're not oppressive, maybe—"
"So what, we lick their boots now?"
The Fourth Elder interrupted furiously. "They crush us under their heel, and we smile while it happens?"
"You're twisting my words! I said we should reform, not submit!"
The two elders squared off again, their shouting growing louder. Meanwhile, Fugaku remained silent, staring into space as if waiting for something.
Then he turned his eyes to Andrew.
"Andrew. What's your opinion?"
The entire room fell still.
The bickering elders froze.
All eyes turned to the young prodigy.
It was no secret what had happened at the village gates earlier. Though Fugaku stood at the front, everyone had seen who really took command. It had been Andrew—calm, sharp, and unyielding.
His voice, not Fugaku's, had forced Danzo to reveal the truth. And now, even the clan's leadership was acknowledging it.
Andrew blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected to be singled out. Just a moment ago, he had been watching the elders like a spectator at a bad drama.
"Me?"
He stood up slowly, brushing off his cloak.
"My opinion? Alright."
He stepped into the center, eyes scanning the crowd.
"Let me ask you this—does the village even want us anymore?"
No one answered.
"Exactly. We keep trying to 'fix' things. Improve the police department. Act more gentle. Smile more."
"And what do we get? Surveillance towers. Assassination attempts. Stolen eyes."
He took a deep breath, then spoke calmly.
"Maybe it's time we stop caring what the village thinks."
"The Police Department? Let it rot."
"Let Konoha enforce its own laws. Let them deal with the mess."
The room stirred. Some faces showed doubt, others curiosity.
"Think about it. We reduce our presence. Limit contact. Keep to ourselves. If they hate us, let them hate us from a distance. But they'll learn real fast how much this village depends on Uchiha."
He crossed his arms.
"We don't need to fight. We just need to pull away. Let them feel the absence. Let them miss us."
The idea was radical—but it resonated.
Fugaku said nothing, but the glint in his eye showed he was listening.
Even the usually loud Fourth and Fifth Elders had gone quiet.
For the first time in years, the Uchiha were unified—not by fear or rebellion, but by strategy.
And at the heart of it all stood Andrew, a boy from another world who had seen the story play out once before—and was determined not to let it end the same way again.