“Suit yourself.” Kain’s lips curled into a near-cruel smile, completely unfazed by Fugaku’s imposing aura.
“Uncle, you cling to the Uchiha’s past glory, but you’ve long forgotten the most fundamental rule of the ninja world—the strong prey on the weak, and only the fittest survive.” “Are you still dreaming of finding common ground with Konoha?
Do you have any idea how many Sharingan are hidden in Root’s underground laboratories?
Do you know what Shimura Danzo is hiding under those bandages he wears every single day?” He leaned forward, his gaze like two poisoned daggers piercing straight into Fugaku’s eyes.
“Do you dare march into the Hokage building right now and force Shimura Danzo to unwrap his bandages so you can see for yourself?” “As an elite jonin, do you honestly believe my parents died in a simple border accident?” “Who else besides you and the Hokage knew the route of their top-secret mission?
Why were they targeted by such a precise ambush on their way back?” “Over the years, how many clan members have died under mysterious circumstances?
Are you truly blind to it all?” Each question struck Fugaku’s heart like a heavy sledgehammer.
Kain’s voice grew deeper and colder.
“Uchiha Fugaku!
Fifty years ago, when Konoha was first founded, our Uchiha clan alone boasted over thirty thousand members, with a full three thousand combat-ready ninjas!
We were the undisputed number one clan in the ninja world!” “And now?” “The entire clan numbers less than ten thousand, and we can’t even scrape together a thousand ninjas capable of wielding a kunai!” “In just fifty years, we’ve lost more than two-thirds of our people.
Do you really think the Uchiha is still the same clan that could stand as equals with the Senju?” “Do you know how many people the Sarutobi clan has now?
Fifty thousand!
With over two thousand registered ninjas!
And that’s just what they show on the surface!” “Then there’s the Mitokado clan.
When Konoha was founded, they barely had a hundred people.
Now?
Over ten thousand members and eight hundred ninjas!” “How did they rise to power?
Don’t you know?
They built themselves on the ruins of the Senju and the extermination of the Uzumaki!
The centuries of accumulated wealth from those two great clans fattened up the four major clans of Konoha’s higher-ups!” “But fifty years have passed, and even the deepest pockets run dry.
Three Shinobi World Wars have long since bled Konoha’s reserves dry!
Even now, more than half of the death pensions for the ninjas who died in the Third War haven’t been paid out!” Kain’s voice suddenly spiked, carrying the ruthless edge of a man with nothing to lose.
“With a deficit that massive, how are they going to fill it?” “War reparations?
The higher-ups divided those up long ago!” “Military funding from the Daimyo?
It’s not even enough for daily expenses!” “Do you expect the Sarutobi and the others to pay out of their own pockets?
If you were in their shoes, would you spit out the meat you’ve already swallowed?
Would you sacrifice your own clan’s interests to plug that hole?” A deathly silence filled the tea room.
At some point, Fugaku had slumped back into his seat.
Cold sweat beaded at his temples and dripped down his jawline, splashing into his cold tea and sending faint ripples across the surface.
He wasn’t an idiot.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t see these things; he just didn’t dare to think about them, much less tear away the comforting veil of ignorance.
Hiruzen Sarutobi’s phrase, “Konoha will always be the Uchiha’s home,” was a bait he had bitten onto for years.
The hook was embedded so deeply in his flesh that tearing it out would leave him bleeding profusely.
He had even harbored the laughable hope that sending Itachi into the Anbu would plant a useful pawn.
Now, Kain’s words had shattered that illusion completely.
Shisui’s death, Kagami’s fate, the faces of all the clan members who had died inexplicably on missions over the years flashed before his eyes.
His chest heaved violently as he gasped for air.
His Sharingan had long since deactivated, and he averted his gaze in defeat, unable to meet Kain’s ice-cold eyes.
The hands resting on his knees trembled uncontrollably.
“Kain, many things aren’t as simple as you think.” After a long silence, Fugaku’s gaze remained fixed on the wood grain of the low table.
His voice was heavy as lead.
“Lord Hokage has already promised me.
He will give the Uchiha an explanation…” “Uncle, I have already found a sanctuary that no one knows about.” Kain looked at him, his tone calm but carrying an unquestionable certainty.
“The Uchiha can’t afford to be bled dry anymore.
We need time to recover and rebuild.” “It’s too risky.
I won’t agree to it.” “Uncle, you must have heard of a trap master from Yanyang Village named Gennou during the Second Shinobi World War.” Kain’s voice was completely flat, yet every word carried a bone-chilling frost.
“He buried exactly one hundred thousand explosive tags beneath Konoha.” Fugaku’s pupils shrank drastically.
He snapped his head up, his crimson Sharingan flaring to life instantly as he growled, “Are you insane?!” “I’m not insane.” Facing Fugaku’s towering rage, Kain grew entirely calm.
His eyes were as cold as a frozen lake in the dead of winter.
“I’m not like you.
I won’t give up resisting just for the sake of my son.
My shadow clone is currently with Uncle Kei.
The moment my clone disperses, Uncle Kei will execute the plan immediately.” Those words struck Fugaku like a bolt of lightning, turning his blood to ice.
Uchiha Kei was a brother-in-arms his father had pulled from a pile of corpses, and one of the few elite jonin in the clan to awaken the three-tomoe Sharingan.
Ever since Kain’s parents passed away, Kei had become Kain’s sharpest blade and most steadfast shield.
He only answered to Kain’s orders and wouldn’t necessarily even listen to the Clan Head.
If a hundred thousand explosive tags actually went off, more than half of Konoha would be blown to the sky.
When that happened, no matter how he tried to explain it, Hiruzen Sarutobi would use it as an excuse to brand the Uchiha as rebels and rightfully exterminate the entire clan.
Fugaku felt a chill rush from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his skull, making his scalp tingle.
He gritted his teeth and growled, “You are an absolute lunatic!” “Uncle, there are only two paths now.” Kain’s voice remained steady, but it struck Fugaku’s heart like a sledgehammer.
“Either you come with me, save Sasuke, and save the entire Uchiha clan.
Or, you cling to your fleeting illusions and wait for every last member of this clan to be slaughtered.” Fugaku’s chest heaved as he stared fixedly at the boy before him.
It took a long time before he managed to squeeze a sentence through his teeth.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you right now?!” “Of course I’m afraid.” Kain’s lips curled into a mirthless smile.
“That’s why I made preparations in advance.
Uncle Kei and everyone willing to follow me are waiting for my signal.
If you refuse today, I will undoubtedly die.
But since I’m going to die either way, why shouldn’t I drag all of Konoha down to be buried with the Uchiha?” A deathly silence spread through the tea room, lasting so long that Mikoto, sitting nearby, gripped her fingers until her knuckles turned white, her breathing shallow.
Fugaku looked at his eleven-year-old nephew, seeing the ruthless determination in his eyes—a willingness to burn everything to the ground rather than submit.
Finally, like a deflated balloon, his shoulders slumped.
His voice carried an uncontrollable tremor.
“What exactly is your plan?” “I’ve awakened a special ability that allows me to take the entire clan to a new, unknown world.” Kain finally reined in his aggressive aura, his tone turning serious.
“That land is vaster than the Land of Fire.
There are no Konoha spies, no enemies glaring at us like hungry tigers, and no one who knows our origins.” “Before we leave, we will sell off all the clan’s properties at a low price and exchange them for sufficient supplies and rations.
At the same time, we’ll activate the clan compound’s defensive barrier to buy time, then detonate the explosive tags to plunge the village into chaos.
During the confusion, I will open a portal and transport all our people and supplies out of Konoha in the shortest time possible.
Aside from me, no one knows where we are going.” He paused, adding the most crucial point.
“We don’t have much time left to hesitate.
My ability allowed me to see that Shimura Danzo has already joined forces with Orochimaru to develop a method to suppress Hashirama’s cells.” “Hashirama’s cells?” Fugaku froze, as if unable to believe his own ears.
His voice cracked.
“Are you talking about…
the cells of the First Hokage, Lord Hashirama?” “Who else?” Kain sneered.
“Shimura Danzo started secretly excavating the First Hokage’s grave over a decade ago to study his cells.
Hashirama’s cells can defy fate, drastically enhancing a person’s physical constitution and chakra reserves.
Those with enough talent can even directly awaken the Wood Release.
But you know exactly how terrifying the vitality of the First’s cells is.
Ordinary people can’t withstand it at all; they just get consumed by the cells and turn into a puddle of rotting flesh.
You can guess how many lives Danzo has thrown away for his experiments.” His gaze suddenly turned icy, like poisoned daggers.
“In the end, he set his sights on our Uchiha clan.
He discovered that the Uchiha’s three-tomoe Sharingan is perfectly capable of suppressing the backlash of Hashirama’s cells.” Those words were like a blade, piercing straight through Fugaku’s final layer of self-deception.
All the strength drained from his body.
He slumped in place, his eyes filled with nothing but bone-chilling despair.
So, from the very beginning, Konoha’s higher-ups never intended to leave the Uchiha a single way out.
They were never worried about whether the Uchiha would rebel.
What they were after was their Sharingan—the bloodline capable of suppressing Hashirama’s cells.
He thought of Itachi, who rarely came home after Shisui’s death and couldn’t even be bothered to attend clan meetings.
His heart felt as if it were being crushed by an invisible hand, aching so much he could barely breathe.
“Can you guarantee that this new world will truly allow our Uchiha clan to survive?” He lowered his head, his voice as raspy as if it had been ground by sandpaper, not daring to meet Kain’s eyes.
Kain raised his chin, his expression carrying a ruthless certainty far beyond his years.
Every word was resolute.
“As long as you follow me, the Uchiha won’t just survive; we will rise again!
A grudge lasting generations can still be avenged.
Every ounce of humiliation Konoha has inflicted upon the Uchiha today, I will repay a hundredfold in the future!” Fugaku looked at the boy in front of him, recalling his earlier threat to drag all of Konoha down to be buried with the Uchiha.
Only two words came to mind—ruthlessly vindictive.
He had guarded the clan for so many years, endured for so many years, stepping back and compromising at every turn, only to be met with total extermination.
Since his path was a dead end, he might as well take this gamble.
He took a deep breath, as if exhaling decades of forbearance and grievance.
When he spoke again, his voice carried the ruthless determination of a man burning his bridges.
“Alright!
Kain!
I will trust you this once!
Since Hiruzen Sarutobi refuses to leave us a way out, then our Uchiha clan will no longer be lambs to the slaughter!”