"I hope so," Shisui said, but his voice was hollow.
He forced a wry smile, trying to shake off the chill from Hiko's words. He patted Itachi's shoulder, heart heavy. "The Young Patriarch is setting records! Soon, the Academy might be nothing but a memory. Are you finally ready to join us at the Police Force? Or is your father already plotting your next move?"
Itachi, who looked up to Shisui as a brother, didn't reply. He only rolled his eyes, familiar with the routine.
"Still training tonight?" Shisui asked.
"Until I can't feel my hands," Itachi replied.
In the Police Force office Hiko's mind raced. Itachi would join ANBU soon. The fuse was lit. Three years to the massacre. Three years until Danzo moved.
If the Patriarch won't act, I'll have to flip the table. Start with the clan meeting.
He clenched his fists. If only he'd arrived earlier—before the distrust, before everything spiraled into chaos. But now, he was here, in the shadow of the coming genocide, with a clan half-mad and a village poised to strike.
If the Patriarch won't act, I'll have to flip the table. Starting with breaking their sacred silence at the Clan Meeting.
Leaving his office Hiko found the atmosphere tense.
"Captain," Oriyan said as Hiko entered. The hulking man was armoured, arms crossed. He didn't use Shisui's name—everyone knew who kept ANBU at bay.
"Just the usual noise," Hiko said. "Don't let it distract you. Finish patrol early. We have a clan meeting tonight. I want everyone in the Third Squad present."
He instructed them to lean on the personnel department if recruits were delayed proof of their weakening position.
The day sped by. Under Hiko's leadership, the Third Squad was efficient results over pride.
As sunset painted the sky, Hiko washed the dust from his face, changed into dark robes, and headed toward the Naka River Shrine.
The ancestral hall was shadowed and old. Usually, he sat quietly at the back, observing. Tonight, the weight of the Indra Chakra hummed beneath his skin—a cold, sharp power.
He took his seat. Oriyan and other captains gathered like a brewing storm. Shisui sat apart, isolated.
Fugaku, the Patriarch, arrived last, his face a mask of weariness.
"The monthly assembly is convened," Fugaku announced. "Let's begin. The Sixth Elder has the floor."
The elder, clutching a scroll, spoke trembling: "Patriarch, we have a crisis. The Hokage's office has lodged complaints about our officers—allegations of aggressive conduct. The villagers are terrified of the red-and-white crest. If we don't restrain our men, they'll dissolve the Police Force."
Fugaku sighed, older than his years. "We must trust the Hokage's wisdom and show we're not monsters. Leaders, implement 'gentle' enforcement. No more displays of force. We must survive."
Most captains looked down, their pride wounded.
Fugaku prepared to close the meeting. Then Hiko spoke.
"Why?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried. Every eye turned.
The Sixth Elder blinked. Fugaku's gaze snapped to him.
"Hiko?" Fugaku warned. "Are you interrupting?"
"I'm asking a question, Patriarch," Hiko said, standing slowly. "Why is the Uchiha leadership the only group in Konoha apologizing for doing its job? When civilians break laws, we arrest them. It's 'violence.' When ANBU take someone into custody, it's 'security.' Why are we begging permission to exist?"
"Hiko, sit down," an Elder barked. "This is diplomacy."
"No," Hiko said, voice cold. "This is survival. Your 'diplomacy' is surrender."
A thick silence followed, heavy as stone.