Roy grinned and ruffled Itachi's little head again, then rose lazily. One second he was stretching with his arms wide in a slow, sleepy yawn—
the next, his body blurred, flickering in place and leaving a string of afterimages behind.
Itachi's bangs fluttered, and as he sat kneeling on the veranda, his lap suddenly felt empty. When he looked again, his big brother had already pulled the curtain aside and stepped out. All Itachi could make out was a vague, hazy silhouette.
"Nii-san…"
Itachi's too-mature eyes shifted, staring after him in a daze.
Roy—feet on a fully-mastered Silent Gait—rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the body. His main-body power synchronization ticked up from 80% to 81%…
Black hair draped over his shoulders, Roy smiled. "Father."
Uchiha Fugaku had just returned from duty. His brow was still tightly furrowed; he wore a black, skin-tight combat suit under a green jōnin flak vest, face set hard. Only when he saw Roy did his expression ease slightly. He gave him a small nod.
"You're older now. There are things you need to start understanding."
Fugaku copied Roy's earlier gesture, ruffling Roy's hair the way Roy had done to Itachi. "You're coming with me to the clan meeting today. Don't speak. Listen carefully. When we get back, tell me what you think."
"Fugaku… isn't it a little early?"
The kitchen curtain lifted, revealing a gentle face.
Uchiha Mikoto, wearing an apron, came out holding a windbreaker patterned with the red-and-white Uchiha fan crest. Even as she spoke, she didn't pause—she slipped it onto Roy, then stepped back to look him over. Her smile brightened.
"Handsome."
"Because Mom made me right."
"Obviously." Mikoto's eyes narrowed into happy crescents, her grin blooming.
Fugaku patted Roy's shoulder. With the Uchiha crest on his back, the kid really did look the part. For an instant, Fugaku saw his younger self—around the same age, being brought to a clan meeting for the first time, getting his first taste of how complicated the adult world could be…
"It's not early," Fugaku said flatly. "We've taken heavy losses. The situation doesn't wait. The younger generation has to step up."
War was never roughhousing—it was real killing.
A few days earlier, Roy had run into Obito and already heard it from the loudmouth: this "clan meeting" wasn't just a meeting. It was also a memorial. Every Uchiha who died on the battlefield—every last one—would be brought to the Uchiha ancestral grounds, the Naka Shrine, and enshrined alongside ancestors who'd fallen in the Warring States era, the First War, the Second War, and countless missions.
Mikoto—Fugaku's partner, the one who heard everything at his side—knew the pressure they were under. She nodded, letting Roy leave with Fugaku.
Just then—
The curtain shifted again, revealing Itachi's chubby-cheeked little face.
Mikoto took Itachi's hand and watched the two of them go. Then she looked down and said softly, "Itachi, tell Dad and your brother to come back early. Mom made hamburger steaks for them."
Itachi pressed his lips together. After hesitating, he raised a hand and waved at Roy and Fugaku.
Creak—
The door closed, sealing inside from outside—splitting the small warmth of "home" from the vast weight of the clan and the village. Two worlds, separated by one thin panel.
Step… step…
On the path to the shrine—
Fugaku walked ahead.
Roy followed behind at an unhurried pace.
They passed a flowerbed.
Fugaku stopped. "Ren. Pick some flowers for your uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters who died."
He set the example himself, bending down to pluck a few stems and bunch them in his hand.
Roy froze for a beat. He suddenly remembered Great-Grandfather Maha telling him, back when he went to pay respects to Grandfather Zigg, to always bring Zigg's favorite chrysanthemums.
A line surfaced in his mind: human sorrow and joy are the same everywhere.
Whether you were a Hunter, a demon slayer, or a ninja, you were still flesh and blood.
Where there was joy, there was grief.
Where there was hope, there was despair.
Where there was purpose, there was confusion.
Contradiction—yet unity—always coexisting.
Roy bent down and picked several white chrysanthemums, holding them carefully. His lips moved soundlessly as he kept repeating one word:
"Contradiction."
He had a hazy sense he'd been ignoring something for a long time… but whenever he tried to grasp it, it slipped away like fog.
He straightened up.
As they drew closer to the shrine, more Uchiha appeared along the path.
"Clan Head…"
"Fugaku-sama…"
"Ren's here too…"
Faces greeted them, then moved on. Roy even spotted familiar names—Tekka and Inabi, Uchiha Yashiro, Obito… and—
A child sprinting toward him on tiny legs, practically flying with excitement.
"Nii-san!"
Uchiha Shisui—only five years old—already ran with a hint of that future "Body Flicker Shisui" flair. He was still round-cheeked with baby fat, a sword strapped to his back, and he came barreling in like a gust.
He flashed five fingers at Roy, practically vibrating. "Five, Nii-san! Five!"
"I used the sword stuff you taught me and killed five enemies!~"
A panel prompt flickered in Roy's awareness:
[Notice: Detected 1 "potential follower"…]
[Potential follower: Uchiha Shisui… deeply admires the host for saving his life and teaching him…]
[Loyalty: Absolute loyalty; will entrust his back and life; can be promoted immediately…]
Roy smiled at the kid.
Ever since saving Shisui, then getting pestered nonstop during sword practice, Roy had eventually caved and taught him Flame Breathing. Shisui's progress had been absurd—he'd quickly grasped the core of it, even reaching Total Concentration: Constant.
Add his natural talent, and it made sense he was already making waves at five years old… which only proved how desperate Konoha was for manpower. Not just Roy—Shisui, next year even Itachi—would all be pushed toward the battlefield to hold back Kumogakure, especially after Kumo unleashed the A–B duo (A and Killer B) across the front. The pressure had only gotten worse.
"Showing off. Let me see if you're hurt."
Roy grabbed Shisui by the back of his collar like he was lifting a rabbit and gave him a quick shake.
Shisui's pants nearly slid off. He yelped and clamped both hands over his crotch.
"Nii-san! I'm a big kid now—can you at least let me keep some dignity?!"
With people coming and going in front of the shrine, it was humiliating. Shisui glared up at Roy, complaining miserably.
Roy didn't care. He kicked Shisui in the butt. "Go play. Over there."
Shisui yelped theatrically—then blurred aside, dodging cleanly. He turned and respectfully bowed to Fugaku. "Uncle Fugaku."
And as always, he stuck to Roy's back like a little tail.
Fugaku watched their banter quietly. The heavy gloom in his chest eased just a fraction. He said nothing—only reached out and patted Shisui's head in encouragement, then glanced at Roy.
His thoughts drifted to the night Hatake Sakumo visited and said, straight to his face:
"If you say yes, I'll report to the Hokage immediately and fight to become Roy's jōnin instructor."
Fugaku's eyes briefly landed on the long, snow-white blade at Roy's waist. Roy claimed he'd taken it as war spoils. Fugaku had never doubted his son's talent—but after the White Fang showed up, Fugaku realized he'd still been underestimating it.
"Swordcraft like his… is the best I've ever seen. No exceptions."
That was Sakumo's blunt, honest evaluation after witnessing Roy fight.
But Sakumo's wish was never going to happen. Fugaku knew it—and Sakumo probably did too.
Neither the Hokage nor the two advisers would ever allow the Hatake and the Uchiha to grow too close. With Uchiha casualties this severe, Fugaku couldn't shake the sense that someone had been nudging the board from behind the scenes.
The most lethal hand… is the invisible one.
More Uchiha filed past, greeting Fugaku and stepping into the shrine.
Fugaku drew a slow breath and led Roy and Shisui inside.
They crossed the threshold, took several steps into the main hall—and Roy's view caught on rows and rows of coffins, lined up neatly.
Inside were the Uchiha dead.
Some had full bodies. Some were missing arms, legs. Some had vanished completely—only a favorite set of clothes laid into an empty coffin as a stand-in.
Roy followed Fugaku into the hall. The clan members parted automatically, forming a path.
At the front stood an elder, a middle-aged man, and two strong young men. They nodded to Fugaku.
Fugaku walked up in silence, stood before the coffins, closed his eyes to steady himself, then opened them—
And began placing flowers.
Roy followed, offering flowers as well. Then the elder. Then the middle-aged man. Then the two young men. Then every Uchiha present, one after another.
When the last bouquet was set down—
Fugaku turned around, his back to the coffins, and sat down on the floor.
The clan meeting began in a grief so heavy it didn't need an announcement.
Shisui had sharp instincts. First time at a clan meeting, he knew when to shut up. He stayed close to Roy, kneeling quietly beside Fugaku.
In the front row sat Uchiha Yashiro, Inabi, Tekka… and like a dying candle that might go out with a single breath—
Uchiha Setsuna.
Setsuna was an old Uchiha from the era of the Second War, a contemporary of Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzō. Long ago, furious over the Second Hokage's treatment of the Uchiha, he'd secretly stirred rebellion and been imprisoned. Now, he was ancient and brittle—and his release clearly wasn't mercy. It meant the clan had traded something with the village.
"Begin," Fugaku said expressionlessly.
Uchiha Yashiro—Fugaku's most trusted adviser, seated in the front row just "beneath" Setsuna—spoke up in a low voice and laid out the true agenda.
And it was the thought in every Uchiha heart here, except for clueless kids like Shisui:
"Clan Head… we can't keep going like this."
Yashiro frowned. "This mission assignment was wrong. I suspect the top is deliberately suppressing the Uchiha."
"Yes, Clan Head." Inabi—his shoulder wrapped in bandages—spat the words out. "I was assigned a B-rank mission. On the battlefield it turned out to be A-rank. If Yashiro-dono hadn't arrived in time, I might not even be standing here talking to you."
"Same for me…"
"Me too—mine was C-rank, then became B…"
"Don't kid yourselves. That kind of 'error' that kills this many people? It's not an accident!"
"Shh—watch your mouth!"
"Why? What can't we say? This is the Uchiha shrine, not the Hokage's office!"
"Hiruzen does dirty things and we're supposed to pretend we don't see it? Ask your dead father if he agrees!"
Clink—clink—clink…
A wind chime hanging in one corner of the shrine rang softly as the breeze stirred.
Complaints. Rage. Suspicion. Voices piling on voices.
Uchiha eyes burned red with grief. The "mistakes" in intelligence weren't something you waved away with "the battlefield is fluid."
No one here was stupid. And when you added the long history—how since the Second Hokage there had been open and covert policies isolating the Uchiha, and how under the Third Hokage those pressures only worsened with Danzō's involvement—
Anyone with eyes could see it.
But the seed of distrust had been planted the moment Tobirama killed Izuna… and it had never stopped growing.
Roy sat quietly beside Fugaku and listened.
No one here understood the full truth better than he did—not just the clash between Uchiha and Konoha, but the eventual path toward massacre.
And yet… calling it "Uchiha vs. Konoha" was too shallow.
It was Indra vs. Asura.
Yin vs. Yang.
Spear vs. shield.
Seemingly irreconcilable—yet undeniably real. Existing beyond anyone's will.
Contradiction… yin-yang… it's one thing…
The argument in the hall kept swelling, threatening to break loose completely—years of humiliation and resentment pouring out like a burst dam.
Fugaku listened in silence.
Setsuna, too, stayed silent with eyes closed—letting it ferment.
Roy watched it all, and finally understood what he'd been ignoring.
He raised his chin and looked out the window.
Afternoon. The sun was slanting. Light fell on trees and cast shadows. Light fell on walls and cast shadows. Light fell on people and cast shadows.
Yin and yang. Light and shadow. Spear and shield… wherever sunlight exists, shadow follows.
And me…
Roy lowered his eyes, fingertips brushing the edge of the windbreaker—the red-and-white Uchiha fan crest.
His black eyes had never been brighter.
Understanding struck—clean and sharp:
"So this is what it means to be the 'Uchiha born evil.'"
"Before, I always just… burned away the 'dark side' on instinct. I never considered…"
"…using the darkness. Controlling negative emotions. Turning them into fuel—into tools that drive me forward."
En unfolded. The heart-worm stirred.
"A lone yang doesn't live; a lone yin doesn't grow."
Roy lifted his gaze again.
All that complaint, rage, resentment—in an instant—became fragrant nourishment for the mind.
Heart-worm—eat.
~~~
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