A ruined island built atop the sea—the remnants of Uzushiogakure, the Land of Whirlpools.
"Fugaku!"
As Fugaku and his group appeared in Uzushiogakure, Mikoto, who had been anxiously waiting, rushed forward and tightly embraced her husband.
Fugaku gently patted Mikoto's shoulder, silently assuring her that he was unharmed and that she needn't worry.
"Thank you, Fourth Hokage." Fugaku first turned to express his gratitude to the Fourth Hokage for bringing them there.
However, because Naruto was currently too far away from this clone, the Fourth Hokage was in a "disconnected" state—his clone unresponsive to Fugaku's words.
"Where's Itachi? Where's Sasuke?" Mikoto, now slightly calmer, looked around anxiously for her two sons.
Unfortunately, neither were among those who arrived.
A creeping dread began to rise in Mikoto's heart.
> "Don't tell me they're…"
"Sasuke is safe. And Itachi too." Fugaku replied, once again gently patting her shoulder.
As his wife of many years, Mikoto understood his subtle meaning.
Although still deeply worried, she held back her questions and didn't press him further—for now.
Then, Fugaku turned toward the gathered Uchiha survivors and bowed deeply.
"Everyone... I'm sorry."
The remaining Uchiha were stunned.
None of them had expected the clan leader to bow to them—shock filled their faces as they looked to each other in confusion.
Inhaling the sea breeze—salty, damp—Fugaku slowly began to recount everything that had happened that night.
He spoke slowly, carefully. Occasionally pausing to share his personal thoughts.
And when he spoke of the total annihilation of the clan, of the massacre...
Everyone's eyes turned red—men, women, elders, and children alike.
The Uchiha clan, a family with over a thousand years of history, was gone.
From over a thousand people, only a little more than a hundred had survived.
Friends, comrades, relatives—those they had just eaten and laughed with the night before—were now gone.
How could anyone accept this?
Tears were shed freely. Rage brewed in silence.
Several survivors even awakened their Sharingan on the spot—some single-tomoe, others two or three.
Some even unlocked three-tomoe Sharingan in their grief.
But to Fugaku's disappointment, none awakened a Mangekyō.
Then again, that wasn't surprising.
Even after three world wars and countless deaths, only a handful in the clan's long history had ever awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan.
If it were that easy, the Uchiha would've long since ruled the entire ninja world.
Mangekyō Sharingan was a rare miracle.
Still, gaining multiple three-tomoe eyes was better than dying en masse for a few single-tomoe awakenings.
"Itachi is my son," Fugaku continued, "The fact that he ended up like this is because I failed as a father."
"This tragedy... is partly my fault."
"Therefore, starting today, I resign from my position as the clan head."
That announcement was like a thunderbolt.
The crowd froze in disbelief, stunned and speechless.
Yes, Itachi was his son. And yes, Fugaku bore responsibility.
But if it weren't for Fugaku, none of them would have survived. The Uchiha would have truly been wiped out.
The survivors had learned from the elite who escaped just how terrifying Itachi and Obito were, and how powerful the Mangekyō Sharingan could be.
Even the strongest three-tomoe users couldn't last more than a few moves against them.
Only in the face of overwhelming power do people realize how small they are.
Only then do they realize that three-tomoe is not the end.
There exists an eye beyond that—the legendary Mangekyō Sharingan.
The official databooks describe it as the "eye that sees through the three realms, with powers that shake heaven and earth."
Everything before this was just the view from a frog at the bottom of a well.
There was never any chance of victory in the coup—they were doomed from the start.
Leaving the village... was the right decision.
The Uchiha weren't all arrogant jerks—they were mostly awkward, proud introverts.
They simply didn't know how to express themselves in moments like these.
And more importantly, most of those who had followed Fugaku here were his loyalists—his most trusted.
They had followed him to the Land of Whirlpools.
Then, a voice echoed from the sky.
"Uncle Stern-Face, this wasn't your fault."
Naruto dropped from the heavens like a meteor, smashing into the ground and forming a crater.
Standing in the center, arms crossed, his aura blazed like that of a god.
His voice boomed out:
"The fault doesn't lie with you—it lies with Konoha."
"If it weren't for their oppression..."
"If it weren't for their repeated persecution..."
"If it weren't for their irrational, paranoid isolation of the Uchiha..."
"Would the Uchiha have ever fallen this far?"
"In all three Shinobi World Wars, the Uchiha gave their all—yet suffered the most casualties."
"You built Konoha's power, and in return... what did you receive?"
"No honor. No position. No power."
"Only betrayal."
"It was Konoha that exiled you to the village's fringes."
"Konoha that manipulated your son."
"Konoha that set this whole trap."
"You were merely victims—not criminals."
"You were not wrong. The Uchiha were not wrong. And most of all, Clan Leader Fugaku—you were not wrong."
"The true culprit... is Konoha."
Naruto's voice rang like a whisper from hell—guiding the hearts of the Uchiha.
And yet, every word was the truth.
One by one, the survivors began to speak up:
"Yes, Clan Leader Fugaku..."
"If it weren't for you... we might all be..."
"Please don't step down..."
Of course, some were bitter.
It was impossible not to be after losing everything in a single night.
But more than blame, what they felt was helplessness.
About their survival, about their future—they were lost.
And Fugaku was their only beacon.
While others sought rebellion, Fugaku had chosen to preserve their bloodline. And he'd been right.
"But I'm no longer fit to lead," Fugaku muttered, visibly slumped.
After witnessing the power of Mangekyō, he felt crushed—choked by the sheer weight of that power.
Even a hundred three-tomoe eyes wouldn't make a difference against that level of strength.
They were simply too strong.
Fugaku looked at the unconscious Izumi, her body covered in blood, yet her remaining eye held the Mangekyō pattern.
"She is the hope of our clan," Fugaku whispered.
Only a Mangekyō... can fight another Mangekyō.
Before the massacre, the Uchiha were chaotic, fragmented by factions and selfish interests.
But now, in the Land of Whirlpools, they were more united than ever before.
Reality had slapped them awake.
They finally saw the true power scale of the ninja world.
Weakness was never their sin.
Arrogance was.
A powerful enemy can be fought.
A stupid ally? That'll get you killed.
Now, their goal was clear: revenge.
And only blood can pay for blood.
Fugaku turned to face the direction of Konoha.
> "We will return. We will come back.
And on the day we return... will be the day Konoha is destroyed."
Naruto, meanwhile, turned his head in another direction, thoughtful.
Toward the Uzumaki clan shrine.
There lay the greatest secret of the Uzumaki.
But… not yet.
"Naruto-kun, what about Sasuke?"
"Leave him to me, Uncle Stern-Face."
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