"Danzo! Don't be so presumptuous!" Sarutobi suddenly raised his voice, his long-stemmed pipe clattering heavily into the ashtray, sending sparks flying. "The Uchiha Clan is also a Family of Konoha, comrades who have shed blood and sacrificed for the Village! How can you say such things?"
Even as he spoke, there was not a trace of anger on his face. Instead, a flicker of greed, identical to Danzo's, flashed in the depths of his eyes. Years ago, it was the few of them who had conspired together to divide the Senju Clan, seizing their secret techniques, wealth, and land. The thrill of that overnight fortune was still fresh in his memory.
Sarutobi's gaze drifted to the portrait of the First Hokage hanging on the office wall, but his thoughts returned to decades past.
How formidable were the Uchiha back then? Relying solely on the strength of their clan, they stood firm against the combined forces of the Senju, Uzumaki, Sarutobi, Shimura, and other Ninja clans. If not for prodigious talents like Hashirama and Tobirama, the outcome might have been uncertain.
Such a great clan, with a thousand-year Legacy and profound heritage—the secrets and wealth hidden deep within their Clan Compound had long made his mouth water.
If it weren't for still needing the Uchiha's combat power to deter other Ninja Villages, he would have long since eradicated the Uchiha Clan entirely, just as he had done with the Senju Clan, swallowing all the benefits.
"Hiruzen, stop pretending." Danzo saw through his thoughts and sneered with a sinister smile. "We all know you've long wanted to get the Uchiha under your control. Now is the perfect opportunity. Miss it, and you won't be so lucky next time."
Sarutobi did not refute him. He simply relit his long-stemmed pipe, and smoke once again enveloped him.
He remained silent for a moment, his fingertips lightly tapping on the request for aid letter, as if making a final decision.
Utatane Koharu and Homura Mitokado also fell silent, their gazes fixed on him—they all knew that Sarutobi's decision would directly determine the fate of the Uchiha's Moderate Faction and shape Konoha's future direction.
A deathly silence fell over the office, broken only by the sizzling sound of the burning pipe and the occasional birdcall from outside the window.
Behind this silence lay the coldest, most avaricious scheming of Konoha's four highest rulers against a clan that had fought and bled for the Village.
It never crossed their minds that the Uchiha Ninja on the front lines were defending with their blood and lives the very Village controlled by those who plotted against them.
After a long while, Sarutobi slowly spoke, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority: "Send a message to Fugaku. Tell him the Village truly cannot spare any personnel for support. However, he is permitted to mobilize some young adult Ninja from within the clan. But—"
He paused, a flicker of malice flashing in his eyes. "They must be young Ninja under fifteen years old, and he is not allowed to mobilize any elite combat power above the Three-Tomoe level. Tell him this is the maximum concession the Village can offer. If he dares ask for more, it will be treated as disobeying military orders."
This decision both addressed Homura Mitokado's concern of "not letting the Moderate Faction be completely wiped out" and aligned with Danzo's ambition of "draining the Uchiha." Young Ninja under fifteen had limited combat effectiveness and couldn't change the tide of battle; they would only die in vain, further weakening the Uchiha's future.
Danzo smiled with satisfaction. Utatane Koharu stopped complaining. Homura Mitokado nodded, as if this were a "happy ending for all."
Only the wind outside the window, passing through the Hokage Building's window frames, carried a barely perceptible chill, as if mourning the impending fate of the Uchiha Ninja on the distant battlefield.
The Hokage's reply exploded like a thunderclap within the Uchiha Clan Compound.
In the clan's streets and alleys that afternoon, angry Clan Members were everywhere. Figures in black clan robes moved about, and crimson Sharingan eyes flickered on and off among the crowd like clusters of sparks ready to ignite a prairie fire.
Several middle-aged Ninja slammed their ninja swords heavily onto the ground, sending stone chips flying: "Sending children under fifteen to the battlefield? That's sending them to their deaths! What is Hiruzen Sarutobi thinking!"
"Our Moderate Faction brothers are bleeding on the front lines, and he wants our children to fill the gaps! He's treating us Uchiha like fools!" A woman holding her ten-year-old son, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice filled with despair and anger.
The surrounding Clan Members echoed her sentiments. Curses and roars intertwined, shaking the lanterns in the Clan Compound—everyone knew that fifteen-year-old Ninja had unstable Chakra and lacked practical experience. Facing the bloodthirsty Kekkei Genkai Ninja of the Hidden Mist, they were nothing but lambs to the slaughter.
Amid the chaos, a figure broke through the crowd, his steps unsteady yet unusually hurried.
Uchiha Setsuna's cloak was disheveled by the wind, his face still bearing traces of unsubsided anger. His Three-Tomoe Sharingan spun rapidly in his eyes, clearly infuriated by this absurd decision.
He rushed straight to Shine's courtyard, not even knocking, and forcefully slid open the paper door. His ragged breathing shattered the courtyard's tranquility: "Lord Shine! We can't tolerate this! Hiruzen Sarutobi has gone too far!"
In the courtyard, Shine was sitting by a stone table, sipping tea.
Steam rose from the tea in the celadon cup. The tea's aroma mingled with the scent of gardenias in the courtyard, exuding a carefree, unworldly tranquility.
He looked up at the furious Setsuna, his face showing no ripple of emotion. He simply raised a hand in a gesture: "Sit down and speak. Have some tea first to calm down."
How could Setsuna sit still? He paced back and forth, his footsteps thudding on the bluestone slabs: "My lord, Hiruzen Sarutobi allowed Fugaku to mobilize reinforcements from the clan, but only permits sending children under fifteen! This is clearly meant to drain our Uchiha's future! That stubborn old fool Fugaku might actually agree!"
Shine slowly picked up his teacup, took a small sip. The warm tea slid down his throat, soothing some of the morning dryness.
He set down the cup, his fingertips lightly tapping the stone tabletop, his tone as calm as a deep lake: "Don't rush to anger. Let me ask you: among those Moderate Faction Clan Members on the front lines, how many have completely sided with Hiruzen Sarutobi, willingly acting as his pawns?"
Setsuna abruptly stopped pacing, his angry expression freezing as he instinctively began to ponder.
He raised a hand to stroke his chin, his gaze gradually turning grave: "About forty-plus. Among them are ten Two-Tomoe Jōnin, all promoted by Elder Yakushi back in the day, long since bought off by Konoha's 'benefits';"
"And thirty-seven Chunin, who have followed those Jōnin for years, their loyalties long since shifted;"
"The remaining hundred and thirty-plus are wavering in their stance. Although they follow Fugaku's orders, they may not agree with Konoha's methods in their hearts, not beyond redemption;"
"Finally, there are over a hundred and forty who are Fugaku's die-hard loyalists, recognizing only the Clan Chief, not Konoha."
"Forty-plus loyal to Konoha, over a hundred and forty loyal to Fugaku?" A faint curve appeared at the corner of Shine's mouth. He picked up the teapot and poured tea into the empty cup before Setsuna. The tea flowed slowly from the spout, creating fine ripples. "Then what are you so worked up about?"
Advance chapter available on pãtrêon Got1808