In the study, the moonlight remained cold, and Fugaku Uchiha's fingers continued to turn the Scroll. Deep within those black pupils, a struggling hint of crimson flickered in and out of sight.
Moonlight slipped through thin clouds and fell sparingly over the Uchiha Clan grounds. The night was quiet, with only a pale glow touching the old buildings.
Inside a slightly aging residence, the desk lamp in the study cast a dim and warm light that pushed back the darkness outside the window. The room felt calm and enclosed, cut off from the cold night beyond the glass.
Yashiro Uchiha sat upright at the desk, his graying hair looking even more withered under the light, deep lines carved into his face by years of wind and hardship. He held a fountain pen, the nib moving slowly and carefully across yellowed paper, making a faint scratching sound.
[…]
[Mother, time passes so quickly. Today is your memorial day again. The weeds by your grave grow green and then turn yellow, then yellow and then green again. In the blink of an eye, I am already forty-five this year. Under your blessing, I have managed to live until today.]
[Shinta is a promising child. Last year he awakened the Three Tomoe Sharingan and became a Jonin. I am proud of him, but he keeps insisting on going to the battlefield, so I made him join the Konoha Police Force instead.]
[This is a bit of selfishness on my part. If possible, I hope that before I die, he can live safely and peacefully…]
[Last month, I became a grandfather. I really like that little one…]
A faint smile appeared on Yashiro Uchiha's face, but his pen paused at this point. The ink hesitated, as if unwilling to move forward.
[It is just that when I think about it, I have not truly talked to you for twenty years. Every time I stand before your grave, so many words clog my throat and refuse to come out. No wonder Inabi and those kids always say I am bad with words…]
[Father went to accompany you last year as well. Because of the Nine-Tails incident back then, we were forced to leave our ancestral land. Even at the end of his life, he never forgot this. You always complained that he was too attached to the past, and now it seems you were right…]
[But as a son, I also hope to fulfill Father's final wish, to move back to our original home instead of being driven to the most remote corner of the village like discarded trash.]
[When that day comes, I should also retire. I will take Shinta and the others to your and Father's graves and talk with you properly. You and Father will surely be able to hear us, right?]
[Or perhaps I will die on the battlefield and be buried beside you and Father. When that time comes, I can talk to you again, and you will surely hear me as well, right?]
The pen stopped for a long time, and a drop of ink fell onto the page, spreading into a small black blot. Yashiro Uchiha raised his hand and rubbed his aching eyes, a trace of weariness flashing through them under the yellow light.
"I really am getting old, more and more like a useless old man." He sighed softly, closed the diary, and carefully locked it inside the desk drawer.
Then he stood up, stretched his stiff back, and turned off the desk lamp. The room sank into darkness, leaving only faint moonlight seeping in through the window.
kacha. Yashiro Uchiha opened the study door and prepared to cross the living room to return to his bedroom.
His son was on duty with the Konoha Police Force, and his daughter-in-law and grandson had already gone to sleep. The living room lights were off, and only the moonlight through the windows cast a few blurred patches of light on the floor.
The air was silent, filled only with the sound of his footsteps and breathing. As he reached the center of the living room, a sudden chill ran up his spine without warning.
He stopped abruptly, his muscles tightening in an instant. Almost by instinct, the scarlet Three Tomoe appeared in his eyes as his sharp gaze swept toward the deepest shadow near the entrance.
"Who is it?" Yashiro Uchiha asked, his voice edged with caution and tension. Someone entering his home at night without a sound could only mean trouble.
When his Sharingan pierced the darkness and clearly saw the figure standing quietly in the shadows, his tense body relaxed without thinking. The crimson light in his eyes faded as he let out a low breath.
"Fugaku Uchiha?" After confirming it was truly Fugaku Uchiha, he asked in a lowered voice, "Why have you come?"
From the shadows, Fugaku Uchiha stepped forward, moonlight illuminating that familiar, steady, and cold face. His eyes were calm, his posture straight as always.
"Yashiro, I apologize for disturbing you so late, but there is something important I need to discuss with you." Fugaku Uchiha spoke in a low and even tone, then added softly, "This is not the place to talk. Come with me."
At this very moment, within Fugaku Uchiha's mental world. A voice screamed in despair, trapped deep within consciousness.
"No. Yashiro. Do not go with him." "Run. Run now. He is here to kill you. No, it is me. I am the one who will kill you."
The true self of Fugaku Uchiha, bound in the depths of his mind, struggled and howled in agony. Seeing Yashiro's trusting face and unguarded state felt like dull knives cutting his soul again and again.
Shisui Uchiha's actions matched exactly what that dark figure had said earlier. The very next day, he had already begun controlling the body to lure clan members, and the first target chosen was Yashiro Uchiha.
This was the most authoritative and reliable person in the clan aside from the clan head himself. How could this be acceptable.
Yashiro's stance toward the village leadership had never been radical like those young men such as Inabi. He had always been guiding the discontented and extreme members, just like the clan head himself.
Yashiro Uchiha's demands were simple from beginning to end. He only wanted the Uchiha Clan to return to its rightful position and for the clan name to no longer be smeared by the villagers.
And yet, even this was now impossible. Everything was collapsing.
"Shisui. Itachi. Is Yashiro truly beyond saving in your eyes?" Fugaku Uchiha wanted to shout and warn him.
But all resistance was meaningless, sealed off and unable to reach the outside world. It was like sinking into the deep sea, unable to stir even the smallest ripple.
"Is this about the coup?" Hearing Fugaku Uchiha's words, Yashiro's expression grew serious as he spoke and began changing his clothes.
He followed behind Fugaku Uchiha and put on his shoes, preparing to leave the house. Just as he reached the doorway, a loud and sudden cry shattered the silence of the night.
"Wah. Wah." The crying echoed sharply through the house.
The light in the master bedroom turned on, and a woman's sleepy but gentle voice followed. "There there, good boy, do not cry. Grandma is here."
Yashiro Uchiha stopped instinctively. The bedroom door opened, and a gentle and composed woman stepped out, holding a child in her arms.
"Yashiro, what is it…" She looked toward the entrance, then noticed the figure standing behind her husband, surprise flashing across her still drowsy face.
"Fu, Fugaku Uchiha?" Her voice carried confusion and a hint of unease.