The entire Uchiha shrine was silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence—but the kind that pressed down on the chest, heavy and suffocating.
Every breath felt loud in the stillness.
All eyes were fixed on Shisui.
Everyone was waiting for his answer.
Even Fugaku, the clan head himself, was watching him closely.
Shisui could feel the weight of Toyoma's question bearing down on him.
His mind raced, searching for something—anything—that could serve as an answer. But the more he thought, the more hollow everything felt.
Why were the village higher-ups afraid of the Uchiha?Why were they called a dangerous clan?What was the real reason behind it?
He didn't know.
No one had ever told him.
Not the elders.
Not the instructors.
Not even the village itself.
All he had ever been taught was the conclusion—that the Uchiha were dangerous—never the cause.
Realising he had no answer, Shisui turned his gaze toward Fugaku almost instinctively.
But Fugaku was staring back at him…
Equally silent.
On the other hand, Toyoma looked relaxed.
Too relaxed.
One glance at Shisui was enough for him to understand the truth.
With a quiet sigh, Toyoma spoke.
"Sigh… it's simple. You don't know the answer."
His voice was calm, but every word struck sharply.
"And you can't explain why the Uchiha are considered dangerous—not because you lack intelligence, but because the people who taught you that the Uchiha are dangerous never told you why."
He shifted his gaze toward Fugaku… then the elders… and continued without pause, ensuring everyone heard him.
"They only told you that the Uchiha were at fault."
"But they never told you what our fault was."
Then Toyoma looked directly at Fugaku and smiled faintly.
Not mockingly.
Not respectfully.
Just… knowingly.
"Clan Head, can you tell me what the Uchiha did wrong?"
"Please. I genuinely want to know."
Fugaku stared at Toyoma in silence.
Because he didn't know the answer either.
Toyoma's gaze moved again.
"Elder Kohaku… can you tell me?"
Kohaku lowered his eyes.
"Elder Kazuto?"
Silence.
"Uncle Uzuku?"
Uzuku clenched his fists but said nothing.
Toyoma let his eyes sweep across the hall.
"Can anyone here tell me our crime?"
No one spoke.
Finally, his gaze stopped on the last person.
"Grand Elder Setsuna…"
"Can you tell me the answer?"
Setsuna looked at Toyoma quietly.
And remained silent.
Toyoma laughed softly—but there was no humour in it.
"No one knows."
His voice began to rise, slowly and steadily.
"Yet children of this clan are fed nonsense from birth—taught that they must become a 'bridge' between the Uchiha and the village."
"Trained to be sacrificed for atonement."
His eyes hardened.
"But tell me—what are we atoning for?"
"Isn't that funny?"
"Doesn't that sound like a joke to all of you?"
The adults present felt their throats tighten as Toyoma continued, his voice growing sharper with every sentence.
"You all talk about the Will of Fire."
"But what was the Will of Fire originally?"
"It was a belief created by the Senju and the Uchiha—that children would not be sent to war."
"That adults would bear the burden, so the next generation could live peacefully."
His eyes burned.
"Yet that same Will of Fire became nothing more than a sermon under Sarutobi Hiruzen."
"He sent children to the battlefield in the last war."
"And he used morality to blackmail us."
Toyoma clenched his fists.
"And we—like fools—followed every word without ever asking why."
He took a breath, his anger restrained but unmistakable.
"I remember that a Hokage was supposed to be chosen by the people—by ninja, by jōnin."
"Yet Hiruzen was directly appointed because Senju Tobirama said so."
His lips curled slightly.
"Whether that story is truth or lie—we don't even know."
Toyoma looked around the hall again.
"You are the adults of the Uchiha. The pillars we children depend on."
"But sometimes I feel that instead of caring about our future…"
"You care more about fake fame, fake names, and empty positions like Hokage."
He stared directly at Fugaku.
"Tell me—what do we gain if an Uchiha becomes Hokage?"
"Fame?"
"Is that worth the lives of sacrificed children?"
His voice dropped, colder now.
"You all know the truth."
"The Hokage position means nothing to us."
"The Uchiha didn't survive for hundreds of years for a title—but for our future."
Toyoma's eyes darkened.
"My parents fought their entire lives for my future."
"Then for the clan's future."
"And finally—for the village's future."
"But from what I see…"
"You're only fighting for the village."
"The clan's future doesn't matter."
"The children's future doesn't matter."
He met Fugaku's eyes without fear.
"Isn't that right, Clan Head?"
The shrine was drowning in shame.
Toyoma exhaled slowly.
"Why am I even saying this?"
"None of it matters to you."
Then his voice hardened completely.
"Let me say one thing clearly—here, in front of everyone."
"I don't care about the village."
"I don't care about the Uchiha name you keep worshipping."
"I only care about the Hawk Faction."
"The people my parents gave their lives for."
His gaze turned ruthless.
"I don't care about any clan head—past or present."
"I don't care about the Hokage."
"All they've ever given us is disappointment."
"Fugaku Clan head only understands sacrifice."
His voice turned icy.
"Every step the Uchiha took… ended in betrayal."
He turned toward the exit.
"But the Hawk Faction has only one motto now."
He didn't look back.
"Respect us—and we respect you."
"Touch us—and we kill you."
Toyoma walked out of the shrine.
No one stopped him.
Everyone remained frozen, staring at his retreating back.
And deep inside, a question echoed in every heart present:
Were they wrong?
Was Toyoma right?
Had they truly abandoned their clan for empty fame and borrowed glory?
Grand Elder Setsuna still hadn't fully returned to his senses.
Toyoma's words continued to echo in his mind, each sentence carrying a weight far heavier than it should have come from a twelve-year-old child.
Most of those present didn't truly understand why Toyoma had exploded the way he did.
To them, it looked like anger born from disappointment—resentment toward the clan's past decisions, frustration with how the Uchiha had been treated over the years.
But Setsuna knew better.
Toyoma's disappointment did not come from the past.
It came from the future.
A future he himself could only glimpse in fragments.
A future Toyoma couldn't explain—not because he didn't want to, but because too many invisible constraints bound his tongue.
Yet even without knowing the full truth, Setsuna could feel it.
The burden that child carried.
The future of Uchiha children.
The fate of Uchiha families.
To Toyoma, the Uchiha were not a clan.
They were family.
And every action he took, every word he spoke, came from a place of desperate protection.
Setsuna exhaled slowly.
"Just because a child like Toyoma exists within the Uchiha…"
"This clan still has a future."
His voice was calm, but firm.
"I can say that proudly, can't I, Kohaku?"
Kohaku listened in silence… then nodded.
"We always thought of the Uchiha as a clan," Setsuna continued.
"But Toyoma sees them as his real family."
"That is why he cannot tolerate seeing them walk down the wrong path."
Neither Kohaku nor Kazuto replied.
Neither did anyone else present.
Fugaku stood motionless.
Toyoma's words replayed endlessly in his mind—the questions, the accusations, the truths he couldn't refute.
For the first time since becoming the Uchiha patriarch…
He realised something terrifying.
I don't understand my own clan.
He had no answers.
No explanations.
No justification.
Shisui, who had been sitting on the floor moments ago in pain, had forgotten about his injuries entirely. His thoughts were tangled, his heart unsettled.
He looked at Fugaku.
Then, in a low voice, he asked—
"Clan Head…"
"What he said… is it true?"
The question pierced deeper than any accusation.
Fugaku felt his chest tighten.
He looked at Shisui and forced a faint smile.
"I promise you, Shisui," he said quietly.
"I will give you an answer."
After a pause, he added—
"Just… give me a little time."
Fugaku had made a decision.
Before taking another step—before chasing any position or promise—he would first understand the true condition of the clan.
Only then would he act.
He turned to face the elders… then the Uchiha shinobi gathered in the shrine.
Slowly, Fugaku bowed.
Not deeply.
But sincerely.
"I am sorry."
His voice was steady, yet heavy.
"Today, I realised something shameful."
"I do not yet deserve to lead this clan."
He raised his head slightly.
"I couldn't answer the questions of a single Uchiha child."
The words tasted bitter.
"All I cared about was the Hokage seat."
"About becoming a candidate… because the Hokage promised me the opportunity."
He clenched his fists.
"Greed blinded me."
"I saw the Hokage election as an opportunity—and ignored the sacrifices I was forcing upon this clan."
His voice softened.
"I never once thought deeply about how those sacrifices would affect our children… our families."
For the first time, his eyes wavered.
"Today, I feel like a failure."
"A failure as a clan head."
He bowed again.
"For all my mistakes—made unknowingly, without considering any of you…"
"I sincerely apologise."
"Please… forgive me, if you can."
The shrine remained silent.
But this time—
It wasn't emptiness.
It was reflection.