Inside the house, young Sasuke wobbled forward, tiny steps aimed toward his father. But the moment Fugaku's cold gaze settled on him, the familiar sharpness in those eyes frightened the child into stopping short.
Mikoto noticed it instantly.
She glanced toward the courtyard outside, drew a slow breath, and said his name firmly, with just enough weight to cut through the tension.
"Fugaku."
Sasuke was barely a toddler. Two years ago, Uchiha Yoru himself had only been thirteen. Mikoto shot her husband a restrained look of displeasure, then smoothed her expression into a polite, practiced smile.
"Come, Sasuke," she said gently. "Let's go play with Grandpa Setsuna."
They were a political marriage, after all. Both born into prominent families. Courtesy was their armor, even when emotions slipped through the cracks.
Once Mikoto left with the child, Fugaku's gaze drifted back to the courtyard, landing on Yoru as he instructed Itachi.
Maybe he was being overly sensitive. But Mikoto had gone too far. Styling Sasuke's hair the same way as that boy from such a young age… outsiders might start getting the wrong idea.
And it didn't help that Yoru hardly looked like a child anymore. Ever since shifting his focus toward taijutsu, his body had grown at an alarming pace. Not even sixteen yet, already tall and solid. Calling him a "boy" felt dishonest.
In the courtyard, Itachi wiped sweat from his brow after finishing training. When he saw his mother emerge with Sasuke, his eyes lit up.
"Mother."
Perfect posture. Perfect tone. The manners of a clan heir.
Yet his gaze never left Sasuke.
Watching that, Yoru couldn't help but think, Is this little-brother obsession genetic?
"Your training's done for today, Itachi," Yoru said with an easy smile. "Take a break."
He then turned politely to Mikoto.
"Sister-in-law."
Mikoto nodded, but her usual warmth was missing. Her eyes flicked between Yoru and Sasuke, something unreadable passing through them.
"Itachi," she said after a pause, "take your brother for a walk."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "And… change his hairstyle."
Itachi didn't catch the meaning at all. He simply scooped Sasuke up, smiling.
"I think it suits him just fine," he said earnestly.
Mikoto's smile stiffened for half a second.
She left with the children, her expression still polite, but the displeasure underneath was unmistakable. Yoru watched them go, puzzled.
Did I offend her somehow?Am I not spending enough time training Itachi?
If that was it, he'd need to pay closer attention. Shisui had been more involved lately.
"Yoru."
Fugaku's voice cut through his thoughts.
Yoru turned and straightened. "Clan Head."
They sat together in the pavilion, a pot of hot tea placed neatly between them. Everything about it spoke of old family customs and quiet authority.
Fugaku studied the young man across from him. He understood the situation, but that hairstyle still made his brow twitch. As clan head, he couldn't exactly order someone to change their hair. Especially not for such a ridiculous reason.
"Yoru," Fugaku said at last, "I hear your Sharingan has reached three tomoe."
It sounded like a question, but the gravity in his tone said otherwise.
One year.
From the night of the Nine-Tails to now, Yoru had gone from awakening his Sharingan to fully developing it. Even among the Uchiha, that rate of evolution was exceptional.
Yoru had never planned to hide it. He was already standing in the open. There was no reason not to use every advantage available.
"Clan Head," he replied, bowing his head slightly. When he spoke again, there was a trace of sorrow in his voice.
"Was it because of your subordinates?" Fugaku asked calmly.
Yoru's heart skipped, but he wasn't surprised. The Seventh Unit had plenty of Uchiha. Information always leaked upward.
He lowered his head further, letting silence do the work before answering.
"I'm fine," he said quietly. "Please don't worry."
For a shinobi, bonds were rare and fragile. And for the Uchiha, emotional extremes were often the catalyst for awakening and evolution. Fugaku understood that better than most.
Between clan pressure, political tension, and betrayal within his unit, the conclusion was obvious.
"Everything you've done," Fugaku said evenly, "you've done for the Uchiha. The clan will remember that."
Then he reached into his robes and produced a scroll.
"You've awakened three tomoe and proven yourself as one of our elite. These techniques are restricted to Sharingan users of that level."
Yoru accepted the scroll with visible gratitude and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Clan Head."
Exactly as expected, he thought.
Let others offer the reward. Let them feel they owed you.
That was how smart people survived.