The Uchiha Clan.
Undoubtedly Konoha's most illustrious family.
They carried with them a pride bordering on arrogance, and a sense of honor that, from the outside, almost looked laughable.
Even now, they still lived in the shadow of the Warring States era—in a world where the Uchiha once swept across the shinobi realm, opposed only by the Senju.
Because of this mindset, the Uchiha rarely mingled too deeply with other clans, much less with commoners.
From Hakken's perspective, they were less a clan and more an "Uchiha Autonomous Zone" within Konoha itself.
And yet, every so often, the Uchiha produced an exception.
A rare one, full of light.
Those exceptions were the ones who reached out beyond the clan, who formed bonds with others.
There had been Obito Uchiha. Shisui Uchiha.
And now, Itachi—though already a little different from the path he might have walked.
Standing at the gates of the Uchiha compound, Hakken studied the people inside, each absorbed in their own little world, his face calm and unreadable.
He wasn't here for the clan.
He was here for Itachi.
Because of just one invitation.
Sometimes the word "friend" wasn't empty. After time spent together, through training and shared growth, bonds and true friendship naturally formed.
Itachi was lonely. Until Shisui returned from the border between the Land of Water and the Land of Fire, Hakken was the only one he could open up to.
Inside the compound, the atmosphere was lively.
Clansmen bustled back and forth, preparing for the clan leader's wife's birthday.
Of course, in this world, a woman's birthday rarely merited such fanfare.
But Fugaku had reason—Mikoto was carrying a child.
Double blessings called for a celebration.
Itachi hadn't made Hakken wait long.
The moment he learned he'd arrived, Itachi hurried to the gate to welcome his friend.
A true friend.
Hakken Yoru.
Someone who stood apart from clan prejudices—someone he could trust.
Shisui, on the other hand, was more like Itachi's life mentor.
Later, Itachi would become almost a continuation of Shisui.
It was Shisui who entrusted his eyes to him, telling him to protect the village, but never to forget the Uchiha.
And yet, in the end, the Uchiha still fell.
Brought down by Konoha's intolerance—and the calculations of those who thrived in the shadows.
"Sorry I'm late—I was entertaining guests at home."
The apology slipped out instinctively, a natural courtesy from the young Itachi.
Hakken said nothing, simply following behind him as they walked deeper into the Uchiha Clan compound.
At this point, the Uchiha had not yet been forced to move to Konoha's outskirts. Their district was neither especially large nor small, but it had everything they needed.
And yet, as Hakken walked those streets, an unsettling thought rose in his mind.
Looking around from here, it felt as though the entire Uchiha clan was hemmed in by Konoha, as if one wrong move would see them completely swallowed.
He shook his head. Not worth thinking about.
The Uchiha's problems. Konoha's problems.
None of it mattered to him.
All he wanted was simple—survive, make a few friends, maybe a couple of confidants.
That was enough.
If this rotten village couldn't even tolerate that much, then so be it—Konoha had no right to exist.
...
After crossing several streets, they arrived at the home of the Uchiha clan head.
The guests inside gave Hakken a passing glance, then quickly lost interest.
Just a child.
Even if he was the clan head's son's friend, he wasn't Uchiha.
And if he wasn't Uchiha, then there was no point in speaking with him.
Only Fugaku Uchiha and Mikoto Uchiha let their eyes linger on him for more than a moment.
One, glowing with maternal warmth, gently held her slightly rounded belly. The other, stern-faced and dignified, looked on with quiet approval.
Meeting Fugaku's gaze, Hakken gave a polite nod.
He wouldn't casually judge this man.
But if he had to put it into words—
As a father, Fugaku was competent. As a clan leader, a failure.
He allowed his son to kill both him and their clan, all for the sake of his two children.
As a father, he had done his duty.
But as a leader, he had failed his people.
Until the end, he never found that one narrow path between Konoha and the Uchiha that could have led to survival.
"I can't wait to meet my little brother."
Staring at his mother's stomach, Itachi's eyes burned with a unique obsession.
Even before Sasuke was born, he was convinced the child in Mikoto's belly had to be a younger brother.
It wasn't just the clan's infamous brother-obsession at work—it was the impact of new life itself. The hope and meaning it gave him.
The gathering soon began.
The mood grew livelier as guests surrounded the clan head, offering empty flattery, while Mikoto smiled politely at their side.
Pregnant as she was, she should have been resting, yet for the sake of her husband's image, she endured.
As a wife, she played her part perfectly.
When his turn came, Hakken lifted his sake cup, tugged Itachi along, and walked up to Fugaku and Mikoto.
"Happy birthday, Auntie."
No wasted words. He downed the cup in one go, then turned to leave.
"That friend of yours..."
Fugaku's voice carried a rare note of sentiment as he watched the boy's back. "He has spirit."
"Well, he is Itachi's friend," Mikoto replied with a warm smile.
...
Outside the courtyard, Itachi found Hakken standing beneath a cherry blossom tree, staring absently at its branches. His face carried its usual trace of apology.
The heavy snow from last night had already melted.
The buds on the cherry tree hinted at new life to come.
"You should go back. I'll wait here. It wouldn't be right for a son to leave his mother alone on her birthday."
Hakken shook his head and drew his blade. "I just can't stand that kind of atmosphere."
He stepped forward and resumed his practice swings.
After Itachi left, a small figure peeked out from behind a nearby tree.
Large, round eyes.
A delicate, pretty face.
Her name was Izumi Uchiha—the neighbor girl who had slipped away from the celebration of the clan head's wife's birthday.