The drunk man lingered outside the ruined restaurant, swaying on unsteady legs. His lips were still muttering curses, but his breath reeked more of smoke now than alcohol. A few curious villagers glanced his way before losing interest.
Then, without warning—BOOM!
A thunderous explosion rocked the commercial street.
Smoke and fire erupted violently from within the building, swallowing the storefront in seconds. Flames licked the rooftops, embers raining down like fireflies.
The blast's shockwave threw the drunk man onto the cobblestones. Dazed but now completely sober, he stared at the inferno with wide, terrified eyes.
At that same moment, in the shadows of an alley, a figure in black silently released the seal he had been forming. His eyes gleamed under his hood. As if satisfied with the destruction, he vanished into the darkness without a trace.
The Root Division had struck again—calculated, cold, and completely deniable.
The chaos in Konoha's busiest street unfolded rapidly.
The flames spread fast, fed by the dry wooden structures. Villagers ran in all directions, shouting for help, carrying water buckets, and trying desperately to contain the blaze. But ordinary firefighting methods were powerless.
Eventually, a passing ninja—thankfully trained in Water Style—stepped in and doused the flames. But by the time the smoke cleared, the hotel was half-collapsed, several people had suffered burns or injuries, and panic had already spread through the neighborhood.
The once-cocky drunk man had disappeared in the confusion, slipping into the alleys like a rat sensing a trap.
Left behind was the devastated restaurant owner, staring at the charred remains of his livelihood. He clenched his fists, face red with fury.
"Damn police department! Always patrolling when nothing's wrong—where are they now when it actually matters? I'm going to report every last one of them!"
That scene wasn't unique.
All across Konoha, chaos seemed to explode at once. Theft, vandalism, brawls, and mysterious accidents cropped up in every district. It was as if the village had suddenly become lawless.
What no one realized was that Root, Danzo's secret division, had orchestrated much of this unrest behind the scenes. With the Uchiha police force withdrawn and disarmed by their own internal decisions, Konoha was now a playing field ripe for sabotage.
The timing wasn't coincidental. The absence of police patrolling—combined with villagers' past complaints—allowed the sabotage to appear organic, random.
Of course, this led to one predictable consequence:
A line quickly formed outside the Konoha Police Department's complaint office. And it was growing by the hour.
But oddly, those who went in emerged not satisfied or angry—but... confused. Their expressions ranged from awkward to regretful.
Not long after the hotel explosion, the furious restaurant owner stormed into the police department.
Inside the complaint room sat the Fifth Elder, sipping tea leisurely. His robes were neat, his expression tranquil—as if Konoha weren't on fire outside.
The restaurant owner slapped a crumpled form onto the desk.
"I want to file a complaint for dereliction of duty! Your officers were nowhere to be seen during the explosion on Commercial Street!"
The elder blinked slowly, then glanced at the sheet. His voice was calm, bordering on amused.
"Dereliction? Hm. Let me check..."
He rifled through a file of rosters beside him.
"Commercial Street is under the jurisdiction of Uchiha Shota, Uchiha Yan, and Uchiha Miao... Oh, right. All three teams have been suspended. So no one is assigned to patrol that sector at the moment."
"What! Suspended? Why?!"
The man looked like someone had poured another pot of fire onto his back.
The Fifth Elder raised an eyebrow. "Let's see... three days ago, you complained about Shota's team for excessive force. Four days ago, Yan's team—you accused them of wrongful arrest of your staff. And six days ago, Miao's team... poor attitude, was it?"
He pulled out each complaint form with a smooth, practiced hand and laid them out like a hand of cards.
"All filed by you," he added dryly.
The restaurant owner's face turned as red as the embers that had consumed his shop. "Th-Then can I withdraw the complaints? Maybe they weren't that bad, now that I think about it..."
"Too late," the elder replied flatly. "Our new captain—Andrew—has set firm rules. Officers with active complaints must be suspended for review. It's all part of his initiative to improve relations between the police and the villagers."
The elder leaned forward, suddenly sharp.
"You wanted accountability. You got it."
The man backed away a step, bitterness rising in his throat. When the Uchiha were present, he'd cursed them. Now that they were gone, he'd lost everything.
"Will anyone patrol the commercial street again?" he asked weakly.
"We're working on that," the elder said vaguely, already returning to his tea.
Throughout Konoha, the Root division continued their covert chaos. But not a single Uchiha officer was dispatched.
More villagers arrived to complain—but the response was always the same: the patrol team in their district had been suspended due to their own complaints.
The Uchiha district, however, remained a fortress of order.
Three teams still patrolled the industrial sector, moving with confidence and authority. When merchants from neighboring zones asked them for help, the Uchiha refused politely but firmly.
"Our orders are clear," they said. "Handle only your assigned sectors. No overreach."
No amount of pleading or bribing changed their stance.
The result? Chaos outside, peace within.
And slowly, Konoha began to understand: the village ran smoothly only when the Uchiha were allowed to operate freely.
Back at the Hokage Building, the storm reached Hiruzen Sarutobi.
"So... on Andrew's first day as captain of the police department," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "he really suspended all officers with complaints?"
An ANBU beside him nodded. "Yes, Lord Hokage. All those officers have returned to the Uchiha compound. And as you can see—" he gestured to a pile of civilian complaint reports "—the village is... destabilized."
Even the ANBU couldn't believe it. The village had been calm just days ago.
Now?
Fires, brawls, looting.
"Summon the patriarchs of the major clans," Hiruzen muttered. "But don't inform the Uchiha."
Meanwhile, in the Uchiha training grounds, the suspended officers were having a grand time.
Laughter echoed across the field as they sparred, meditated, or simply relaxed.
"Did you hear what happened outside? Some idiot blew up a restaurant," one said, chuckling.
"No way. Again?"
"Yup. Commercial Street's in chaos. And the villagers? They're lining up at the complaint office begging us to come back."
Everyone burst into laughter.
"Weren't they the same ones who kept filing complaints every time we raised our voice?"
"Let them stew in it."
"Honestly, Andrew's idea is genius. Give them what they asked for—and make them regret it."
More laughter. Even those who had once doubted Andrew's appointment were now singing his praises.
"Young, but sharp as hell. He gave us a vacation, and made the village realize just how much it needs us."
"Watch," someone added. "Next week, they'll be begging to reinstate every Uchiha."
Within his private room, Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor, his Mangekyō Sharingan spinning slowly in his eyes.
"No special technique…" he muttered.
His eyes shut, focusing inward. Despite possessing the Mangekyō, he hadn't unlocked a unique ability yet. But what he had discovered was just as powerful.
Thanks to the system's reward, he'd advanced from a standard Sharingan to a dual Mangekyō state with unparalleled pupil strength.
That raw power alone allowed him to manifest Susanoo instantly.
"So it's not about having two Mangekyō eyes," he thought, "it's about pupil force. That's the true key to Susanoo."
Even Madara had used Susanoo long after losing his vision—proof that it wasn't the eyes themselves, but what lay within the Uchiha bloodline.
"I'm not done," Andrew whispered. "This is only the beginning."
And outside, the village continued to burn.
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