"I haven't decided yet," Uchiha Gen said slowly.
"If it truly succeeds in the future, it definitely won't be called Ninja anymore."
"I've always hated that word.... Ninja. We clearly possess powers beyond the reach of ordinary people, yet we're expected to cower, endure, and accept being treated like tools."
"If shinobi were elevated to the status of nobility, would so many of the tragedies we've endured still have happened?"
"Ninja should not be disposable weapons for missions. We should be the ones leading this world."
He leaned forward, his gaze steady on Itachi.
"When you begin going on missions, pay attention to the lives the nobles of the Land of Fire and other countries live. After you've seen them, ask yourself; are they truly worthy of standing above you?"
Itachi's chest swelled with heat. He felt as though he had matured years in the span of moments. With a solemn expression, he vowed, "I will use my Sharingan to see this world clearly."
In his eyes, the single tomoe of his newly awakened Sharingan glowed crimson. Gen wasn't surprised; Itachi's talent made such progress natural.
"Itachi," Gen continued, "if we do build a world where shinobi lead and ordinary people assist, will that be enough? Can we finally rest easy?"
"I… I suppose so?" Itachi said hesitantly.
"No. We can never rest easy," Gen said firmly.
Itachi straightened. "Please explain, Gen-nii."
"You're the top student at the Academy, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"And the gap between you and the second-ranked student?"
"Quite large."
"Good. Now imagine the Academy is the entire world. With no pressure, what would happen to you?"
Itachi paused. "…I'd grow lax."
He hesitated, then admitted quietly, "Actually, I already have. I'm still first, but I'm not working as hard as I did before."
"And if the environment remains safe and comfortable?"
"…Then I would stay that way."
"Why?"
"Because the Academy is safe. Even if we fight, no one's life is really in danger."
"Excellent." Gen's eyes narrowed approvingly.
"The Academy is this world, Itachi. And our new order would be like you in that Academy."
"A peaceful, stable, harmonious environment easily breeds complacency. People grow soft, content with mediocrity, chasing only pleasure. That is true for individuals, for nations, and for the world itself."
"But what if one day a powerful enemy descended upon us?" Gen asked.
"Could people who had never known crisis, who had forgotten the taste of war, resist them?"
Itachi tilted his head. "Other worlds? You mean… are there really other worlds out there?"
Gen smiled faintly. "Who knows? Look at the stars. Can you truly be certain there aren't?"
Itachi gazed up at the glittering night sky, its depths endless and mysterious. At last, he shook his head.
"I say this so you remember one truth, Itachi; forgetting war invites danger. For people, for villages, for nations and for the world."
Itachi's eyes hardened with resolve. "I will remember."
Gen nodded. "Good. But what we've discussed today, you may tell only Shisui. Not your mother. Not anyone else."
"I understand."
Gen relaxed. Precocious or not, Itachi was trustworthy.
"It's late. You should rest. The next few days will be tough."
"I'll walk you home."
"Gen-nii, there's no need. I can go myself, it's close."
"You came safely, but I'll make sure you return safely. No arguing."
When Gen delivered him to Mikoto, he noticed her attitude was faintly stiff and awkward but thought nothing of it.
The next morning, inside the Mizukage's office in Kirigakure…
"Obito, I have some bad news," a half-black, half-white figure said as it rose from the ground. Black Zetsu's hoarse voice filled the room.
On the bed, a masked man stirred. Obito opened his single Sharingan and muttered lazily, "Don't tell me the plan failed."
"Heh… it did fail."
"Nani?"
Obito bolted upright, scarlet tomoe swirling furiously. "How could it fail?"
"Tobi, you explain," Black Zetsu rasped.
"Yay, I'll do it!" White Zetsu's playful voice piped up. "Here's what happened…"
As Tobi recounted the events at Nanga Shrine, Obito's expression twisted beneath the orange mask. Every word, the flaw Gen had caught, the way he'd turned the clan with his eloquence, was salt in his wounds.
"Damn it… he's too troublesome." Obito exhaled heavily, tone bitter. "Even the smallest slip, and he seizes it. Twice, I've failed."
Black Zetsu chuckled. "Eloquence was only part of it. The Mangekyō Sharingan was the true key. Without it, the Uchiha never would have listened so calmly, or believed him so easily."
"…You're right." Obito admitted grudgingly. "And the bastard hid it perfectly. Back in Whirlpool Country, I thought his genjutsu came from some second bloodline limit. A Mangekyō all along… he had us all fooled."
He clenched his fist.
"So what now?" Tobi asked. "Do we keep targeting him?"
"He's wary now. We'll have to give it up for the moment. Find another chance later." Obito waved a hand. "Fortunately, I'm not entirely empty-handed."
Though Gen vexed him, Obito didn't see him as a true threat but just a talent worth recruiting. As Madara's inheritor, he knew the Mangekyō's weaknesses.
Gen wasn't worth constant pursuit.
"Should I recall some of the White Zetsu in Konoha?"
"…No," Obito said after a pause. "That place is strange. We lost too many Zetsu there already. Leave them for now."
When they finally left, Obito lay back down, brooding.
By evening, the bodies of Fugaku and his men were returned in coffins. Their funerals were held in turn.
Gen first delivered condolence money at the homes of the other six before arriving at the clan head's.
Though all were mourned, Fugaku's funeral was clearly the grandest. Rank and power mattered even in death.
That night, the clan grounds were filled with grieving voices.
By morning, delegations from across Konoha arrived. By the following day, nobles and ninja clans from all over the Fire Country and even beyond would send representatives.
Despite the scale, it wasn't extravagant. Shinobi lived and died on missions, most never even earned individual funerals, their names etched only on the Memorial Stone.
Inside the hall, Uchiha Setsuna, Mikoto, and young Itachi received mourners with heavy hearts. Sasuke had been sent to Kushina's house, sheltered from the sorrow.
Fugaku's body lay in the coffin, his face restored to calm, his hands folded across his abdomen. The gruesome wounds of his death had been erased by expert hands.
Gen lingered, paying his respects with the rest before leaving late at night, the clan's sobs still drifting behind him.
Over the next three days, the rites concluded. Fugaku, having died on a mission, was enshrined at Konoha's Memorial Stone.
But a clan could not remain leaderless.
On the fourth night, at 8 p.m., every Uchiha not on duty with the Police Force gathered outside Nanga Shrine. Those on shift had passed their votes to family.
Under a clear winter sky, stars bright and the moon glowing full, the clan assembled.
Setsuna rose, solemn as ever.
"The late clan head's son is still too young to guide us. We must elect a new patriarch, young, strong, capable, and exceptional."
"There are two candidates. First, Second Elder, Uchiha Naruzawa."
He continued, "Second, the captain of the Ninth Squad. One of the Uchiha Twin Stars. Disciple of the Sannin. A wielder of the Mangekyō Sharingan. The 'Fear Shura,' famed across the shinobi world... Uchiha Gen."
Naruzawa's brow twitched. Such praise for Gen, yet nothing for him?
Setsuna concluded, "Vote with care. Choose the one truly worthy."
The elder spoke first, promising vengeance for Fugaku, higher stipends for the Police Force, better welfare for common clansmen, and, vaguely, that he would lead the clan to glory.
Third Elder Yasunari immediately stood to support him.
None dared disparage Gen. His age, once his flaw, was now his strength... youth meant limitless potential.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
The offers were tempting.
When silence was restored, Setsuna announced, "Now, the second candidate will speak."
Gen rose slowly, all eyes upon him.
With a faint smile, he said, "Second Elder spoke very well. My promises are the same."
Naruzawa's face darkened. Was this boy mocking him?
Some in the crowd snickered.
But then Gen's expression sharpened. "And furthermore…"
He leapt in a single bound atop the shrine roof. Black chakra surged from him like a storm of death.
"If I become patriarch, I will suppress all enemies in this world!"
The chakra coalesced into bone, then sinew, then armor—a towering half-body Susanoo with blood-red eyes.
It roared, the sound shaking the air, wind whipping across the assembly. Cloaks snapped, hair whipped about, sleeves thrown up to shield faces.
The clan froze in awe before the black giant looming above them, like a god of war descending to earth.
And then, from the crowd, a voice rang out:
"Clan Head!"
Another joined it. "Clan Head!"
Soon, the chant swelled, voices uniting, until the night echoed with thunderous cries:
"Clan Head! Clan Head! Clan Head!"
Naruzawa slumped. It was over. Against this Susanoo, his defeat was absolute.
Even Setsuna, Shisui, and Mikoto found themselves swept up, voices joining the cry.
Gen stood tall, arms crossed, hair streaming wildly in the chakra wind, every inch the conqueror.
But inside, he cursed bitterly.
Damn it… this burden is heavy.