Bang!
Danzo Shimura slammed his heavy crutch against the ground, his face clouded with fury. He turned to his old friend, the Third Hokage, and, restraining his anger, demanded, "Hizashi, Konoha needs order. Why frame the Uchiha children in this chaos?"
Before he could finish, the Third Hokage interrupted sharply, pointing at Danzo. "Framing the Uchiha…"
Those words stopped Danzo cold. He had been careful to avoid saying "child," but the implication—Uchiha, framing—landed hard. His mind flickered to all the schemes he'd set in motion; he did this kind of thing often. Still, he pushed the thought away. Public prejudice was a mountain, but what if people accepted that prejudice as truth?
"You accuse me every day… Why bring it up now?" Danzo's voice dropped but remained firm. "Those dangerous Uchiha children—do you want them to destroy the village?"
He slammed his pipe on the table to make his point. "Enough! What the village needs now is unity, not infighting!"
"You forget—the Nine-Tails' eyes—those are clear evidence—" Danzo shot back calmly, but the Third cut him off.
"I've said enough." Sarutobi Hizashi stood and fixed Danzo with a steady look. "You must know: I am the Hokage."
The weight of that sentence crushed the room. It was the final straw for Danzo's composure. He shook his crutch and spat, "You'll regret this, Hizashi!" Then he stormed out.
Only three remained. After a long pause, Koharu tried to speak. "Hizashi, could there be a problem if the Uchiha are framed?"
The Third Hokage slammed his palm on the table. "This is absurd. Who would send a two-year-old into the barrier alone?" His voice carried equal parts incredulity and accusation.
Silence settled.
Outside the Uchiha compound, Jin's small calves pumped fast.
Blessed by the "Light as a Swallow" entry, his coordination had improved drastically. He no longer moved like a typical child—no rigid ninja stance or tiny shuffling steps. He swung his limbs freely, agile and precise, almost matching an adult's speed. If only his height didn't betray him.
He paused at the Uchiha clan's iconic fan crest, then slipped quietly toward the compound entrance.
After the Nine-Tails' raid, the Anbu who had been guarding the estate had withdrawn. The troublemakers had left. Only a faint murmur and scattered sobs remained. One figure stood at the door: Fugaku Uchiha, the clan patriarch. He stared into the distance, his eyes deep and unreadable. The three magatama of his Sharingan slowly rotated as war-smoke and the scent of battle clung to him.
"Uchiha… we need not tremble so much," Fugaku muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Despite the severity of the situation, some village forces remained to watch the Uchiha. He sighed and began to turn away.
Then he noticed a small shape tiptoeing through the shadows. "Jin? How did this child slip out?"
Fugaku paused, startled. Jin had always been quiet and solitary—odd, even by Uchiha standards. He rarely sought others' company. So why had he snuck out now?
Curious and concerned, Fugaku followed.
From Jin's vantage in the shadows, he thought, As expected—Father followed. The patriarch, who should possess a Mangekyō Sharingan, merely observed rather than interfered. Fathers know the weight of hard choices; he did not judge.
As Fugaku closed the distance, he sensed an approaching pressure. "Jin, why run out? It's late—shouldn't you be sleeping?"
Fugaku's voice was formal; he was not indulgent. There was little softness in it.
"My house collapsed," Jin answered.
Fugaku's eyes widened. He looked back toward the compound and realized a beam from Jin's home had fallen. How had he missed that? Even some clansmen had not noticed. He forced a brief, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Xiao Jin. I'll help fix it tomorrow. For now, sleep in my house."
Jin hesitated—ten minutes of exchange, and his small voice tugged against the patriarch's authority. He squirmed, trying to free himself from Fugaku's grasp, but without chakra he could not. So Fugaku picked him up and brought him home.
As they walked, Jin suddenly piped up with a litany of hiding spots in the ancestral hall: "Under the third table leg in the ancestral hall! In the flowerbed by my mother's window! The lower-right corner of the cabinet in my room—"
Fugaku's hand paused. "How do you even know that?" he asked, bewildered. His voice, for the first time that night, betrayed real exasperation rather than severity.
Jin's milky voice continued, playful and sly. "Father, you wouldn't want your private things to be seen by Mother, right?"
Fugaku felt the corner of his stern posture soften despite himself. He gritted his teeth, sighed, and finally settled down, resigned. Jin, for all his cunning, looked like a harmless child.
Only then did Jin notice the entry hovering in Fugaku's aura.