Uchiha Soren stood on the stony brow of the Hokage Monument, boots planted directly atop Tobirama Senju's carved forehead. The wind carried a faint bite, but Soren inhaled deeply, letting the cold settle into his lungs like victory.
"Killed by the 'evil Uchiha brat,' and now," he murmured with a lazy smile, "that same brat is your successor, Tobirama."
He lowered his gaze to the village below. Konoha sprawled beneath him—streets lit by noon sun, rooftops gleaming, clans stirring uneasily after the morning's upheaval. All of it lay under his hand now.
A slow, satisfied breath left him.
For the first time since awakening his Mangekyō Sharingan, the world felt… predictable.
Manageable.
His.
Juno perched near his boot, tail low and guilty. The cat's half-crushed pride bent his whiskers downward.
Soren didn't bother looking at him.
"Act up again and I'll declaw you," he muttered offhandedly. Juno's ears flattened in immediate repentance.
With a final amused glance at Tobirama's granite features, Soren crouched, pressed both palms to the sculpture as if sealing a private ritual, and whispered:
"If Edo Tensei restored you right now, I'd show you the view from below."
Then he kicked off the cliff and vanished in a smooth Spatial Step, reappearing near the Uchiha Police Force Headquarters.
A Clean Execution Is Still an Execution
The underground chambers buzzed with quiet efficiency.
Rows of prisoners—traitors, enemy spies, a few lingering ANBU dissenters—were processed one by one. The air smelled faintly of iron, antiseptic, and sealing ink.
Uchiha Rei, captain of the East Sector, rotated a sword whose edge glimmered faintly red.
"What's the point of killing with a chakra-augmented blade instead of a normal one?" he muttered.
Uchiha Baru gave a shrug worthy of a man who'd long stopped questioning the tides of power.
"Young Lord gives orders. We follow. He always has his reasons."
The implication beneath his tone was equally simple:
—Obey publicly. Plan privately.
—The Uchiha move like a tide; those who stagnate drown.
Baru added:
"And clean yourselves up before the daimyo's banquet. The Young Lord doesn't need us stinking like a slaughterhouse."
One by one, prisoners were slain with silent, neat strokes. The wounds were immediately sealed with small fire seals. The next team removed the bodies with sterile precision.
No wasted motion.
No mess.
No mercy.
A machine built for death.
Rumors of Promotion and Resignation
"Where's Zhili?" Naka asked as he wiped a blade.
"She just made shadow-level. Will she become an elder soon?"
Rei's answer was dry and thoughtful:
"More than that. With the Young Lord as Hokage, the Police Minister post may open. Zhili's young, brilliant, shadow-level… she's the obvious heir."
Baru paused mid-motion. His eyes glittered with thoughts long buried.
"…I'm leaving the Police Force," he said finally. "No future here."
A few others went silent—thinking the same.
"We'll follow you," one said. "For the clan's future, not just the Force's."
Rei watched them go with a grim earnestness.
The Uchiha were evolving.
Some would rise.
Some would leave and form new branches of strength.
The tide moved forward—relentless.
Soren's Quiet Revolution
After settling the Police Force's affairs and briefing Uchiha Hien on banquet protocol, Soren bathed, changed into clean clothes, and retreated into the clan archive.
He sat in a dimly lit private study. Stacks of scrolls lay before him—some freshly written, others brittle with age.
His Ascension Points ticked steadily upward.
He exhaled, pleased.
"Hunting enemies is foolish," he said softly. "But building a system that harvests power forever? That is how dynasties rise."
His thoughts flowed like ink across parchment.
1. Chakra-Augmented Weapons
He abandoned the idea of pouring Mangekyō energy into disposable kunai—it was a waste of ocular power. Instead:
Mass-produced starter blades → distributed to academy graduates
Contribution tiers → upgrade paths
Revenue tax → funds the weapon program
All forges under Hokage authority → Uchiha-controlled economy
Tie every shinobi's livelihood to his system.
Bind every clan's hand to his forge.
2. Swordsmanship as National Curriculum
Uchiha sword arts were beautiful but too advanced.
He drafted a multi-tier plan:
Collect accessible kata from other clans
Exchange them for favors
Offer mid-tier jōnin advanced Uchiha forms as contribution rewards
Restrict top-tier techniques to loyalists
A sword economy.
A sword hierarchy.
A sword identity for Konoha.
A system where the Uchiha were both the supply… and the gate.
3. Long-Range Battlefield Strategy
Mass chakra cannon technology would take years—but a few Susanoo sweeping a battlefield would be enough for now.
Tsunade was only six.
War was distant.
He had time.
Soren leaned back against the wall of scrolls, a faint smirk on his lips.
He reopened the clan chronicle.
Halfway through, an ancient entry caught his eye—one almost forgotten: a theoretical jutsu describing the conversion of ocular essence into persistent physical artifacts.
A lost technique.
A dangerous one.
A profitable one.
His smile sharpened.
"Everything I do has purpose. Everyone else will understand that—eventually."
Outside, Konoha stirred uneasily.
Inside, the new Hokage quietly began rewriting the future.
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