"But if they dare scheme behind our backs, they must pay the proper price. Peace breeds shadows in the heart; desires for power will slowly sprout. Do you understand?"
Kaede spoke to Madara evenly, teaching him what it truly took to be a good clan head and to govern a great village.
"Yes, sensei. I understand."
Madara nodded, thoughtful.
"Good. Now, tell me—do we spare these people? Do we keep them here and let them continue under us, or…?"
Kaede's gaze shifted to the captives.
"Sensei," Madara said after a pause, "if we kill them all, then indeed the Uchiha will have no enemies in the Land of Fire for a time. But if we wipe out every family and leave only a few great houses, our territory and resources will grow vast—yet ninja clans from other lands will eye us like wolves. The Uchiha cannot be everywhere at once. I think we should spare them and make them our vassals."
"Very good. Then, this time, I'll give you some face and spare them," Kaede said coolly. "From each clan, choose fifty ninja and bring them back. The rest—remove them. We don't need that many vassals."
He truly was honoring Madara's plea. Otherwise, by his own temperament, he would have left none alive. Cutting the grass and pulling the roots was always the surest way. He didn't fear future revenge—one move would settle it—but swatting flies every day would be tiresome.
"Yes," Madara answered, turning to the assembled clans.
Truth be told, "fifty" was generous. Some minor clans didn't even have fifty members left. But the Sarutobi were a major clan—despite their fallen head, their numbers still exceeded fifty.
"Decide among yourselves," Madara said flatly. "Fifty live. Any more, and they die."
At those words, the smallest families—those with fewer than fifty—exhaled in relief and gathered every last member at one side, watching the others in silence.
Among the Sarutobi, farewells began.
"My son… your father is gone. Take good care of your mother. Grow up into a true ninja and protect her—do you hear me?"
"Father!"
The little boy burst into tears; his mother's eyes glistened as well.
"Daughter," another ninja murmured, brushing the cheek of his twelve-year-old girl, "I failed to protect your mother before. But now, no matter what, I'll make sure you live. When I'm gone, you must be strong. Make many good friends. Never think of revenge."
"Father… I won't forget you!"
The girl's tears fell like rain. At twelve, she knew all too well what this meant—farewell, forever.
…
Scenes like this played out in every clan. Many chose to sacrifice themselves for the sake of siblings, lovers, and children—to let the ones they loved live on. But alongside those selfless acts came the ugly faces of the selfish.
"You dog! Don't forget—I saved your life on the battlefield! You swore you'd repay me—this is the time!"
"Repay you? You only lost an arm back then. If I could, I'd give you an arm today—but now you want my life? Forget it!"
They shouted, grabbed, even came to blows. Neither would die for the other.
Kaede watched coldly, saying nothing. He had long since understood the ugliness in human nature. At a moment like this, some would be selfless—but more would bare their worst. He saw through them all, clearly as day. Regardless of how they struggled, the end would come quickly.
Soon, each clan's fifty were settled. The rest—willing or not—were ended.
From that moment, the Sarutobi and the small clans that had followed them lost the ability to live independently. They could only survive under the Uchiha's shadow.
When every headcount was fixed at fifty, all eyes rose to the sky, trembling—the meteor still hung above them.
With a casual wave from Kaede, the sky cleared. The world-darkening star vanished at once. Sunlight poured down again, warmth returning to the earth.
Had they not known the meteor had truly been there moments before, they might have dismissed it as a fleeting dream. But that cold, marrow-deep despair would never fade. From now on, when they faced Kaede, there would be only fear—nothing else.
Under guard, Madara's people seized each clan's wealth and resources, sealing everything into scrolls to take back. The march home was not swift; it took three days to return to the Uchiha encampment.
By then, the village was nearly complete. They had felled vast stretches of forest and opened wide fields. Many homes already stood—simple, yes, but far better than old tents and rough stone huts. The fifty from each clan were put to work, helping build the village.
Perhaps because the village's rise was in sight, more and more civilians arrived with their families, pleading for shelter. After so many wars, the surrounding countries had grown chaotic and suffocating. This world had not only ninja clans, but wandering shinobi, local thugs, and people with malice in their hearts. Here, under the Uchiha, the common folk saw a chance—however slim—for safety.
(End of Chapter)
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