Northern Frontline — Blockade Zone
Night fell like ink, pressing heavily over the forests of the Land of Fire’s northern border.
Moonlight barely pierced the clouds, scattering broken shadows across the treetops.
Beneath a massive ancient tree, the Ino-Shika-Cho trio sat with their backs against the trunk, forming a loose triangle.
No fire.
Veteran shinobi didn’t make such amateur mistakes.
“…This scale…”
Choza Akimichi spoke quietly in the dark.
“…It reminds me of the Third Shinobi War.”
Leaning against the opposite side of the tree, Inoichi Yamanaka didn’t open his eyes, only giving a soft hum before continuing.
“Three hundred Uchiha moderates.”
“At least seventy of them are shinobi.
Confirmed jōnin include Uchiha Yashiro, Uchiha Inabi, and Uchiha Tekka.
But that doesn’t mean the rest are merely chūnin.”
“The rank of jōnin in the village requires approval, and political factors are involved.
The Hokage has long restricted the Uchiha’s advancement.”
“In reality, there are at least dozens among them who possess jōnin-level strength but remain classified as chūnin—or at the very least, special jōnin level.”
“And the rest—all bearing Sharingan.”
“Even if most only have a single tomoe, they can still be treated as elite chūnin.”
“And then there’s Uchiha Fugaku—a Kage-level combatant.”
“For some smaller villages… this would already be their entire military strength.”
“Take Kusagakure, for example—three jōnin in total.”
“So yes…”
“This is war.”
In the darkness, Shikaku Nara had been silent the whole time.
Sitting cross-legged, fingers tapping lightly against his knees, he finally spoke.
“…Too bad it’s a war within the same village.”
Silence followed.
“Fifty squads,” Shikaku continued softly, almost to himself.
“Out of the thirty-plus squads Fugaku encountered…”
“…no one died.”
He raised his head, looking into the dark sky.
“That alone tells us—he has no killing intent.”
“So this isn’t just the Uchiha’s problem.”
“From the moment the Second Hokage established policies to marginalize the Uchiha…”
“…this outcome was inevitable.”
Inoichi frowned.
“Shikaku… some things shouldn’t be said so casually.”
“Relax,” Shikaku shrugged lightly.
“I’m just venting to you two.
But tell me honestly—isn’t it true?”
He continued, voice calm.
“The Uchiha awaken power through emotional stimulation—so we made them the police force.”
“They enforced the law fairly—then were resented.”
“The village smoothed things over.”
“After the Nine-Tails incident—suspected involvement, increased surveillance, further restrictions.”
“And yet—”
“If the Uchiha really had been responsible back then…”
“…after what we’ve seen from Fugaku…”
“What do you think would’ve happened to the village?”
Choza and Inoichi both paused—
The answer was obvious.
“…Maybe that’s why Fugaku chose to leave,” Choza said quietly.
“Leave…”
The word struck Shikaku like lightning.
He suddenly sat upright.
“…Wait.
Leave?”
“Shikaku, what is it?”
“Inoichi—map.”
“What did you figure out?” Choza leaned closer.
Shikaku didn’t answer immediately.
He unfolded the map, snapped a glow stick, and a faint green light illuminated the northern region of the Land of Fire.
His finger moved—
From the Red River… to the Land of Hot Water… to the Land of Rice Fields… and back again to the northern blockade.
Then—
It stopped.
“…I’ve realized something.”
Shikaku said slowly.
“Right now… most of Konoha’s forces are concentrated in the north.”
“Even the ten thousand shinobi from the village… are being sent here.”
His finger suddenly slid south—
All the way across the map.
“To the southernmost region.”
He looked up.
“This means…”
“The south is empty.”
Meanwhile—
Far to the southeast—
Waves crashed endlessly against jagged rocks.
This was the eastern coast of the Land of Whirlpools—
Once prosperous.
Now nothing but ruins.
The former Uzushiogakure had been destroyed years ago, its people scattered or slaughtered.
What remained was a trade hub jointly controlled by Konoha and Kirigakure.
On the eastern shore—
Inside a modest wooden house—
Uchiha Mikoto sat formally on tatami, her back straight, hands resting on her knees—though her fingers trembled slightly.
Two days ago—
She had submerged into the river, following the Red River all the way to the sea.
She barely needed to breathe—
Because her husband had infused her with an overwhelming amount of vitality.
From there, she secretly boarded a merchant ship to the Land of Whirlpools—
And, following his instructions, found a shinobi of the Terumi clan from Kirigakure…
And delivered a letter.
Now—
She waited.
For a full day and night.
She was nervous.
Worried about her husband.
Her clan.
Sasuke.
And sometimes…
She thought of Itachi—
Wondering how he could bring himself to raise a blade against them.
But she suppressed it all.
Because of his words—
“Trust me.
I’ll handle everything.”
Creak—
The wooden door slid open.
Mikoto looked up.
A woman stood at the entrance.
Beautiful—so much so that even another woman couldn’t help but hold her breath.
Tall, with long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, softly curled at the ends.
Her face—half bathed in moonlight, half hidden in shadow—like a sculpture.
And impossible to ignore—
Her striking figure, even beneath loose shinobi attire.
The woman stepped inside, closed the door, and sat before her.
“I am Mei Terumi, current head of the Terumi clan.”
Mikoto nodded.
“Uchiha Mikoto.”
“I know.”
Mei smiled faintly—and somehow, the room seemed brighter.
“We agree to the proposal your husband mentioned in the letter.”
Mikoto blinked, surprised—and slightly suspicious.
“…You didn’t read it?”
“No.
If I had been captured, I destroyed it beforehand.
Even if I were caught, no one would learn the details of his plan.”
“I see.”
Mei nodded.
“Then read this.”
Mikoto accepted the letter and read under the faint moonlight.
The contents were brief—four points:
First: The Fourth Mizukage is under Sharingan control, likely by the same person behind the Nine-Tails attack.
Fugaku can break it.
Second: In exchange, Kirigakure must accept the Uchiha, allowing them to establish a new clan and integrate with other bloodline families.
Third: Fugaku will form a contract with one of Kirigakure’s blades to enable large-scale reverse summoning.
Fourth: A political marriage—between Fugaku and Mei.
“…You don’t seem surprised,” Mei said, watching her.
“About what?”
“The contents.”
“I rarely involve myself in clan affairs.
But if this enemy forced our clan to flee… investigating him is only natural.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Mei leaned closer—the distance between them shrinking.
Her breath warm against Mikoto’s skin.
“I mean the marriage.”
“You don’t object?”
Mikoto turned her head slightly, cheeks flushed.
“I… agree.”
“Agree?”
Mei’s lips curved faintly.
“How interesting.”
“In the shinobi world, monogamy is common—but for powerful shinobi, multiple partners aren’t unusual.”
“I have no objection either.”
“Our descendants would inherit two bloodlines.”
She paused, studying Mikoto carefully.
“But according to the information I read…”
“You’re a very traditional woman.”
“Even if you accepted this out of necessity… you shouldn’t be this calm.”
“…Because…”
Mikoto’s face flushed even deeper.
“…because…”
She remembered that night before her departure.
She remembered how, to ensure she could make it all the way to the sea, Uchiha Fugaku had infused her with an overwhelming surge of scorching vitality.
Only then did she truly understand what he meant by “the pain of excessive life force.”
That burning sensation—
To be honest, she had no desire to experience it a second time.
Yet every time her husband used his Mangekyō abilities… he had to endure that same torment.
But that wasn’t the real point.
The real point was—
She had realized something.
On her own, the amount of that blazing chakra she could process… had a limit per unit of time.
In other words—
No matter the reason—
For her husband’s health…
For the future of the shattered Uchiha clan…
And even for herself—not to be “overwhelmed” by that force—
It was only logical…
That he take more wives.
But—
She couldn’t say that out loud.
It was far too embarrassing.
“…Because…”
Uchiha Mikoto bit her lip, her voice as soft as a whisper.
“…you’ll understand when the time comes.”
“…Huh?”
Mei Terumi blinked.
A woman who had never even been in love—who had devoted all her energy to clan affairs and Kirigakure’s politics—she couldn’t quite grasp the meaning behind those words.
But she could tell—
Mikoto wasn’t lying.
“…Alright.”
“As long as you agree, that’s enough.
Better than dealing with family disputes later… haha—cough—I mean…”
Mei suddenly seemed to realize she might be acting a little too eager.
Marriage had always been something she desired—
But she still needed to maintain some composure.
“…Anyway.”
She snapped her fingers.
Outside the door, a subordinate brought in a massive scroll.
Pitch black, etched with intricate silver sealing patterns.
“This is a summoning scroll from the Hōzuki clan of Kirigakure.”
“I paid quite a price to borrow it.”
“Through this, your husband can form a contract with one of the Seven Ninja Swords.”
“However—after internal discussion among our clans…”
“We’ve decided this is only temporary.”
“Once the reverse summoning is complete, the sword—and the contract—must be returned.”
“No problem.”
Mikoto nodded.
She understood.
Her husband wasn’t a swordsman.
The Seven Ninja Swords required specialized techniques—without them, their full power couldn’t be utilized anyway.
“This… contains my husband’s chakra.”
“And his blood.”
As she spoke, she took out another scroll from her sleeve.
Meanwhile—
In the northern forests of the Land of Fire—
Uchiha Fugaku suddenly raised his head.
He felt it.
That connection—
A contract, spanning thousands of miles.
Like an invisible thread, gently tugging at his chakra.
“…It worked.”
“…Cat Granny.”
His voice echoed softly through the forest.
“I’m here.”
The old woman stepped out of the shadows, her footsteps light as a cat’s.
“How many soldier pills do we have left?”
She pulled out a deep purple scroll.
“About two thousand left in this one.”
“…Tch.
These things really are convenient.”
“…And expensive.”
A hint of pain flashed across her face.
“The sealing scroll alone costs more than everything sealed inside it.”
“If it weren’t an emergency, I wouldn’t use it…”
Fugaku nodded.
Of course he knew.
And it also explained something—
Why, despite having sealing scrolls—almost like spatial storage—
Large-scale wars still relied on supply convoys.
Simple.
Cost.
Using sealing scrolls for logistics?
The war funds would collapse before the battle even began.
He turned.
“Yashiro.”
Almost the moment he spoke—
A figure appeared from behind the trees.
“Clan Leader.”
Uchiha Yashiro dropped to one knee, his voice hoarse.
Fugaku looked at him in silence for a moment.
“…Can you still hold on?”
“No problem!”
The answer came quickly—
But the exhaustion beneath it was obvious.
Fugaku smiled faintly.
“…It’s over.”
“The plan succeeded.”
“We can withdraw.”
For a moment—
Yashiro froze.
Then, as the meaning sank in—
He let out a long breath…
And collapsed onto the ground with a thud.
“…Didn’t you say you were fine?” Fugaku teased lightly.
Yashiro didn’t answer.
He laughed too—
But there was little joy in it.
Only the relief of surviving.
Leading three hundred civilians—
Evading, deceiving, fleeing across enemy territory—
Every step on a knife’s edge.
Every decision tied to the survival of the entire clan.
No one who hadn’t lived through it could understand that pressure.
And yet—
Precisely because of that—
Yashiro admired the man before him even more.
From escaping Konoha…
Crossing the Red River…
Outplaying Kumogakure…
Moving underwater…
Capturing Hyūga…
And now—
After traveling thousands of miles—
Facing forces several times their size…
Facing the wrath of an entire village—
Not a single person…
Had died.
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