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"Who are you?!"
"That's… the Sharingan!"
"Uchiha… He's from the Uchiha Clan! Capture him! Capture him immediately!"
The senior shinobi of Kirigakure erupted in panic, barking orders to detain Uchiha Haru.
At once, the surrounding ninja moved to act, rushing forward like a tide.
But before any of them could lay a hand on him, Uchiha Haru and Mei Terumi, who had moments ago been surrounded, vanished without a trace.
Vanished.
Yes—completely disappeared!
Just as suddenly as he'd appeared before Mei, he was gone again, taking her with him.
The crowd of Kirigakure shinobi froze in stunned silence.
What kind of technique was this?
At least when the masked man had vanished, he left behind a swirling vortex in the air—an unmistakable sign of space-time ninjutsu. But now, another Uchiha had appeared—one even more mysterious—and disappeared without a single clue or ripple.
No sound. No chakra signature. Nothing.
What the hell was going on?
After facing opponents like this back-to-back, the morale of the Kirigakure shinobi began to collapse. Doubt gnawed at them like rot. Were they really fighting human enemies… or monsters?
But Haru hadn't left.
If he fled now, it would only play into the masked man's scheme. Everything he had done until now—every step, every plan—would be reduced to dust. Worse, Mei Terumi's reputation would be permanently ruined, and Kirigakure would spiral even deeper into chaos.
He couldn't allow that.
He wouldn't allow it.
Uchiha Haru reappeared atop the Mizukage's throne—the very same seat the masked man had sat in earlier. Mei Terumi stood silently beside him.
There wasn't any official rule prohibiting others from touching that chair.
But everyone understood what it represented.
It was the symbol of Kirigakure's highest authority.
And now, an outsider—a Uchiha—was sitting on it as if it belonged to him.
The room erupted in fury.
"How dare you! Get off that chair!"
"That's the Mizukage's seat! You think you can touch it, outsider?!"
"Mei Terumi, you really are a traitor! Siding with the Uchiha Clan to turn against your own village!"
The accusations turned into action as several enraged shinobi surged forward, determined to drive Haru away by force.
But this time, Haru didn't let them get close.
Just as the first footstep hit the floor, the ground split apart with a violent rumble.
Thick wooden spikes—massive vertical stakes—erupted from the earth in a flash, rising at a terrifying speed.
Too fast for most to react.
It was only because Haru had deliberately held back, not intending to kill anyone, that there weren't bodies skewered across the floor. Still, a few reckless, hot-blooded shinobi had charged too fast—and one of them wasn't lucky.
He was struck clean through the thigh by a jagged stake, pinned in place, screaming in pain as blood sprayed.
"If you dare show such disrespect again," Haru said, voice flat and cold, "you will die."
There was no rage in his tone. No malice.
Just absolute certainty.
And that made it even more terrifying.
The entire hall fell into stunned silence.
They had all just seen the power of this man—how he subdued more than a dozen shinobi in a heartbeat.
Without even drawing a weapon.
The strength was unimaginable.
After years of brutal rule under the Fourth Mizukage—years of torture, assassinations, and purges—many of Kirigakure's most powerful clans had been wiped out or driven into hiding. The village had hemorrhaged talent, especially bloodline limits.
Now, very few shinobi in the entire village could claim to be Kage-level.
And facing the casual might Haru had just demonstrated, the survivors hesitated.
Should they press forward, knowing they couldn't win?
Or retreat and lose even more face?
Eyes turned slowly toward the elders, seeking guidance.
But before anyone could speak, Haru turned his gaze toward the old man seated at the back of the chamber.
"Elder Genji," Haru said calmly. "It's time you stood up and explained the truth."
"Otherwise, the misunderstanding will spiral out of control—and there'll be no fixing it."
"Elder Genji?"
Mei Terumi frowned slightly.
If Genji had intended to speak up, he would've done so already.
Why would he wait until now?
She had spent the past hour being accused, condemned, and humiliated.
If Genji had any intention of defending her, he wouldn't have remained silent through all of it.
And even now, she doubted he would say anything.
Her thoughts calmed as she reassessed the situation with clear eyes.
There was no way out of this.
No reversal.
She was too young. Among the new generation, perhaps she had some influence—but to the older generation, to the power structure of the village, she was nothing more than a naive child.
Her words meant nothing to the elite.
Worse still, her association with Uchiha Haru had already cost her their trust. They saw her as tainted—possibly compromised, maybe even a spy. A traitor.
She couldn't even protect herself, let alone push back against them.
And those around them? They knew nothing of the truth, of the plans made in secret. Even if they wanted to defend her, they lacked the context to do so.
There was only one person who held the power to shift the narrative.
The Elder Master.
Genji had seen everything last night. He had been there when the masked man revealed himself. He knew the truth.
His words could turn the tide.
He could clear her name—turn her from a supposed traitor into the hero who had uncovered the conspiracy threatening Kirigakure.
But would he?
What did he stand to gain?
If he remained silent, and allowed her to be branded a traitor, then she and Haru would be driven from the village. They would be gone, out of the way.
The only ones who had seen what the masked man truly was… gone.
And Genji's control over the council would remain unchallenged.
Why would he risk speaking the truth?
He wouldn't.
That much was clear to Mei Terumi now.
And as her gaze swept across the room, she realized something else—there was no one else coming to save her.
The Fourth Mizukage had vanished, whereabouts unknown.
At this moment, Kirigakure was in desperate need of someone to seize control of the chaos.
Naturally, the first person who came to mind was the Elder—Genji.
And once Genji took charge, he would ascend directly to the peak of power in the entire Hidden Mist Village.
Wasn't that far more in line with his interests?
Within just a short span of time, after everything that had unfolded, Mei Terumi had changed.
She had grown.
She had realized something critical: most people in this world were selfish and greedy.
If you wanted to know what someone was truly planning, the best method was always to start from their core interests.
So, Mei Terumi was almost certain—Genji wouldn't stand up for them.
The moment Uchiha Haru mentioned his name, Genji's eyes flickered slightly with surprise.
Was Haru really calling on him?
Hadn't his previous behavior made it clear where he stood?
Still, since Haru had brought him up in public, Genji figured he might as well say something.
Of course, he had no intention of speaking on behalf of Haru or Mei Terumi. He merely planned to offer some well-worded, empty platitudes—words that sounded righteous and neutral, but carried no weight.
He had mastered those over the years.
But just as he stood up, everything changed.
The entire scene around him shifted.
He was no longer in the Mizukage's office.
The crowd of Kirigakure elders and shinobi was gone.
Instead, he found himself on a battlefield—bloodied, desolate, and stinking of death.
The air was heavy. Corpses littered the ground. Crimson pools soaked the soil.
And beside him stood no shinobi bodyguards. No council. No safety.
Just endless death.
"Why... why…"
A faint voice came from nearby.
Genji turned his head, and his pupils constricted.
There, lying in a pool of blood, was a thin, pale young ninja—his old teammate.
The boy's breath was shallow, his chest trembling. Pain, betrayal, disbelief—all of it flickered in his dying eyes.
That gaze.
Genji's chest tightened.
That man… that boy… had once fought at his side.
But in the end, he—
No. No, this wasn't real.
Illusion!
This was an illusion!
His eyes widened. He clenched his fists. "This is genjutsu!"
After what happened last night—being trapped in Haru's Thousand Nights Illusion World—Genji had grown extremely vigilant toward genjutsu.
He was old. His power had waned over the years. But his experience and instinct remained sharp.
That trick might've worked once—but not again.
"Release!" he shouted, weaving a hand sign and forcibly attempting to break the illusion.
But nothing changed.
The blood remained.
The corpses remained.
The cold battlefield wind still howled.
This was no ordinary illusion.
It was the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.
And illusions cast by that dojutsu were not so easily dispelled.
A low, sardonic voice echoed from the crimson haze. "Heh. I didn't expect that the respected and beloved Elder Genji of the Hidden Mist had such a disgraceful past."
Uchiha Haru's silhouette emerged from the shadows.
Genji's expression darkened instantly.
This memory—this nightmare—was the deepest, most buried secret of his entire life. He had spent decades locking it away.
And now Haru had seen it.
"Uchiha Haru! Give it up! I won't help you!"
"This is all fake. Everything you're showing is fabricated!"
"Even if you reveal it, no one will believe you! Don't think you can threaten me with this—I will never support you!"
"Is that so?" Haru chuckled, his voice relaxed, but sharp like a blade. "What if I show everyone?"
Genji's blood ran cold.
"In case you've forgotten," Haru continued, "my Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan can craft illusions rooted in your truest memories—your most hidden fears. What I see here… is your truth."
With a flicker of red light, the illusion shifted again.
Now, beside Genji stood a younger version of himself.
The young Genji's eyes were lifeless. He stood over the bodies of his fallen teammates. There was no grief. No guilt.
Just cold calculation.
The young Genji suddenly pulled out a kunai and stabbed himself—three, four, five times. Each wound avoided vital points, designed purely to make it appear he had been ambushed.
Then, he carefully lifted the bodies of his companions, slung them over his shoulders, and staggered off the battlefield like a survivor.
A survivor who had betrayed his own team.
Genji's face turned pale. His eyes widened like saucers.
"N-no! That's fake! All fake!"
"Lies!" he shouted. "You forged all of it!"
He staggered back a step. Sweat poured from his forehead. His voice trembled.
"No one… no one will believe this slander!"
Haru stared at him, unmoving.
"Genji… whether others believe it or not doesn't matter. You know what's real."
"Now," Haru said, stepping forward, "I'm giving you a choice."
His voice dropped an octave.
"Either stand before the people of Kirigakure and propose Mei Terumi as the Fifth Mizukage…"
"Or I will project all of this—every scene, every lie, every betrayal—into the mind of every ninja in this village."
"Your choice."
Genji clenched his fists, his face twitching with rage and panic.
Haru's eyes narrowed, Mangekyō spinning slowly.
"Don't test me."
Silence.
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This Week Bonus Chapter - 200 Power stones
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Love the story and can't wait to see what happens next?
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Thank you for reading, and I truly appreciate your support! 💖
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