The three remained in silence until the crisp voice of a young boy echoed from nearby.
They all looked up to see Sasuke returning.
“Eh?
Father, Brother, Shisui-niisan.” Sasuke’s footsteps faltered.
He had originally wanted to ask his mother for some money to take Little Sora to buy some dango and red beans, but he didn’t see her.
Instead, he met the heavy gazes of the three men.
His excitement instantly faded, replaced by a dazed confusion.
Fugaku looked at his youngest son’s appearance, his tense jawline softening slightly, and even his tone became gentler: “Your mother is out.
Your allowance is on the desk in your room.” “Ah?
Oh!
Thank you, Father!” Sasuke’s eyes suddenly lit up.
Then he realized—his father had seen right through his thoughts.
Was he really that easy to read?
No!
It must be because Father is so amazing!
That’s why he could see through everything so easily!
Sasuke’s expression suddenly turned determined.
After a quick nod to the three, he hurried to his room and immediately spotted the small cat wallet on the desk.
Sasuke picked up the wallet.
As he unzipped it, the crisp sound of clinking coins made his lips curl into a smile.
“With this much, it should be enough for me, Little Sora, and that guy Naruto, right?” He didn’t quite understand why his mother always stuffed more money into his wallet after finding out he often played with Little Sora and Naruto, but a six-year-old wouldn’t dwell on such things.
He would be entering the Ninja Academy in two days.
Making sure Little Sora had a good time was the priority now.
As for Naruto…
he’d reluctantly bring him along; it would make Little Sora happier.
“Father, Brother, Shisui-niisan, I’m heading out!” Sasuke shouted toward the courtyard after tucking away his wallet.
Without waiting for a response, he dashed out like a nimble young beast.
Watching the figure disappear through the doorway, silence spread through the courtyard once more.
The atmosphere, which had briefly softened due to Sasuke’s appearance, was dragged back into heaviness by the deadlock between the clan and the Village.
Finally, Itachi spoke first.
His voice had turned very cold, yet his eyes held an unshakeable resolve: “Father, Shisui, I cannot think of a suitable solution, but I absolutely cannot watch the clan and the Village truly come to blows.” He paused, his fist unconsciously tightening.
“Once a real fight breaks out, the final result will be a lose-lose situation; there will be no winner.
Konoha might suffer heavy losses, but the Uchiha…
will surely vanish forever.” “Sasuke is still young; he shouldn’t have to die for the grudges of adults.
Neither should Little Sora.” When these words left his mouth, a hint of a tremor finally entered Itachi’s voice.
Fugaku frowned deeply at Itachi, his tone filled with disappointment: “Since you can’t think of a solution, what’s the use of saying all this?” Itachi’s face suddenly darkened.
His eyes transformed into the Sharingan due to his agitation, the three Tomoe spinning wildly in his pupils: “Then kill all the Radicals!
As long as they are gone, at least the thoughts of rebellion can be suppressed for now, and this conflict can—” “Shut up!” Fugaku’s roar exploded like a thunderclap, interrupting Itachi.
The leaves in the courtyard rustled and fell, and even the air seemed to freeze.
“Father?” Itachi was stunned, his crimson Sharingan momentarily stalling.
He had never seen his father so enraged—those eyes, which were always dignified and calm, were now filled with heartache and fury.
“Itachi, you have disappointed me too much.” Fugaku’s voice carried a suppressed tremor, his dark gaze falling on Itachi like a blade.
“You actually want to ease the situation by slaughtering your own kin?
Have you forgotten everything I and the Ninja Academy taught you?” He looked at his eldest son, complex emotions churning in his heart.
He hadn’t expected Itachi’s thoughts to become so twisted without him noticing.
Was it because he had stayed in the Anbu for too long?
Shisui also looked at Itachi in silence, his eyes mixed with regret and worry.
He never imagined that his good friend, who had always fought alongside him, would harbor such extreme thoughts.
For a moment, he even instinctively reached for his eye, wanting to cast ‘Kotoamatsukami’ on his friend to make him calm down.
Itachi lowered his head, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows under his eyes, quietly enduring his father’s reprimand.
It wasn’t until Fugaku’s breathing gradually leveled out that he slowly came to his senses—those words just now did indeed seem too extreme.
Seeing his eldest son with his head bowed, the anger in Fugaku’s heart was gradually replaced by a sense of powerlessness.
He sighed, his tone softening but carrying an indisputable decision: “Itachi, leave the Anbu.
Either be an ordinary Konoha Ninja or come to my Police Force as a captain.
Choose one.” He remembered his previous plan—he had intended for Itachi to join the Anbu to both gather information on the Village and see the Village’s attitude toward the Uchiha.
But now it seemed that not only had the boy failed to get any useful information, but his heart had also been stained by the darkness of the Anbu, straying too far.
“Itachi, I support the Clan Head’s decision this time.” Shisui also spoke, his voice full of earnestness.
“You really need to rest.
The environment of the Anbu…
has kept your nerves stretched too tight.” Itachi looked up, his eyes filled with confusion.
He looked at his own hands.
Was he really…
too tired?
Seeing his soul-crushed appearance, Shisui ultimately swallowed the words at the tip of his tongue.
He couldn’t actually use Kotoamatsukami on his friend, could he?
If he did, Itachi would no longer be Itachi.
When silence spread again, Shisui finally spoke, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness yet remaining exceptionally firm: “Clan Head, I think we should use ‘Kotoamatsukami’—on those Radicals.” He knew this wasn’t a long-term solution; the conflict would erupt sooner or later.
But he truly couldn’t think of a better way.
“At least it can buy us some time.
What our generation cannot solve, perhaps the next one can.
It’s better than shedding blood now and letting the Uchiha or the Village head toward total destruction.” Fugaku didn’t answer immediately.
He just slowly turned around and looked at the Fourth Hokage’s face on the Hokage Rock in the distance.
Sunlight spilled over the stone statue, yet it couldn’t warm the chill in his heart.
In truth, he was also full of dissatisfaction with the Village—if not for his status as Clan Head, if not for Mikoto and the two children, the young Uchiha Fugaku, known as the ‘Wicked Eye,’ might have long ago become the leader of the Radicals.
But he couldn’t now.
He was a husband, a father, and the patriarch of a clan.
Every step he took had to be cautious, because behind him lay the fate of the entire Uchiha.
“If only the Fourth Hokage were still here.” Fugaku’s voice was very soft, like a breeze that would scatter at any moment.
“That guy was gentle to everyone, and toward us Uchiha…
he never held any prejudice.”