"That's certain," Fugaku replied in a deep, resolute voice.
"There's no need for Clan Head Fugaku to be surprised," Sora said, as if reading his thoughts perfectly. "I've already secured the support of the Ino-Shika-Cho trio, along with my master's—Lord Jiraiya's—firm promise."
"So when the time is right, becoming Hokage will be a foregone conclusion."
Ino-Shika-Cho.
Jiraiya.
Each name struck Fugaku's mind like a massive boulder, sending shockwaves through his composure.
This young man had, without anyone noticing, silently woven an enormous web.
"The only real issue at present is my youth and relative lack of seniority," Sora said with a casual shrug, slipping back into his lazy demeanor.
"So, Clan Head Fugaku—no need to rush."
"Time is on our side. We merely need to wait."
He shifted topics smoothly, his face breaking into a commercialized smile.
"Oh, by the way—in a couple of days, the hot pot restaurant I'm opening in partnership with Ino-Shika-Cho will have its grand opening. Clan Head Fugaku, feel free to bring the family to try it. The flavors are truly exceptional."
The abrupt pivot left Fugaku momentarily off-balance.
From clandestine political plotting over the Hokage succession to casual chit-chat about a new restaurant opening.
"How has the Uchiha clan been faring lately?" Sora asked conversationally, as if it were mere small talk.
"Though I imagine, with Danzō gone, the pressure on your clan has eased considerably."
Fugaku's heart skipped a beat.
"You know as well that I was the one who killed Danzō," Sora said lightly, his voice carrying the weight of a hammer all the same.
"I'm sure Itachi told you. After all, he provided the intelligence."
Fugaku fell silent.
Of course he knew.
And precisely because he knew, he had resolved to gamble the entire Uchiha clan's future on this unfathomable young man.
"I acquired some... interesting items from Danzō," Sora continued, as if discussing something trivial.
"His secret research data with Orochimaru—on Wood Release."
Wood Release!
Fugaku's head snapped up; he stared intently at Sora.
"One member of my Anbu squad is a product of their experiments," Sora smiled faintly. "A genuine Wood Release user."
"And recently, my own research has yielded considerable results."
Meeting Fugaku's gaze—now filled with utter astonishment—Sora delivered his final sentence calmly.
"In the not-too-distant future, Clan Head Fugaku, you may witness..."
"The fusion of Sharingan and Wood Release."
Sharingan and Wood Release combined.
The words struck like black lightning, tearing through the quiet night over the Naka River and striking Fugaku directly.
His body froze as rigid as stone.
Those proud Mangekyo Sharingan eyes—which had weathered countless storms—now brimmed with undisguisable shock.
Sora simply watched him quietly, his face even carrying a trace of innocent academic curiosity.
As if he had just proposed an ordinary discussion topic like "what's for dinner tonight"—not a taboo capable of upending the entire ninja world.
"Oh? How far has your research progressed?"
Fugaku's voice emerged dry and rasping, each word labored.
"Please look forward to it, Clan Head Fugaku."
Sora smiled, reverting to his cheerful youthful self.
"You'll certainly see it before I become Hokage."
He added lightly, almost as an afterthought.
"After all, it's also a way to make a name for myself. Don't be too shocked when the time comes!"
Fugaku's chest heaved dramatically.
Make a name?
Using Wood Release to make a name?
What on earth was going through this young man's mind?
He drew a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the tumultuous waves in his heart.
"Very well."
Fugaku bowed slightly—posture lowered profoundly, tone carrying unprecedented respect.
"Then I will follow Lord Akashi's arrangements. Upon returning, I will immediately begin selecting and cultivating administrative personnel within the clan."
The words "Lord Akashi" marked the moment the Uchiha clan head fully set aside his final pride.
"Five years at the shortest—seven at the longest."
Sora held up fingers, as if calculating a simple math problem.
"Clan Head Fugaku will see everything you've longed for."
Five years.
Seven years.
For the Uchiha clan—which had endured decades of suppression—this was but the blink of an eye.
Fugaku's eyes ignited with scorching flames—the light of hope and ambition.
"That would be wonderful."
He exclaimed sincerely.
"It's getting late—I won't keep you any longer, Clan Head Fugaku."
Sora stretched lazily, feigning drowsiness.
"I'll definitely visit when the hot pot restaurant opens."
Fugaku promised solemnly.
Sora waved casually; his figure flickered and melted into the darkness, vanishing without trace.
Leaving Uchiha Fugaku alone on the cold riverbank.
The night breeze blew, yet he felt no chill—only boiling blood coursing through his veins.
Sharingan.
Wood Release.
Hokage.
The Uchiha clan's future had never felt so vividly clear and glorious.
...
Sora returned to his apartment as casually as if he'd merely taken a nighttime stroll.
He pushed open the window and slipped inside silently.
The shadow clone in bed dissipated into white smoke with his arrival.
The bedding still retained the clone's simulated body warmth.
Sora shed his outer clothes and slid under the covers.
Having painted an earth-shattering vision for the Uchiha and secured Konoha's premier noble clan brought him no particular thrill.
He merely felt he'd resolved another troublesome matter.
Now he could sleep peacefully.
He rolled over, found a comfortable position, and soon his breathing evened into steady slumber.
...
On Konoha's busiest commercial street, a new establishment appeared—one that made every passerby halt involuntarily.
"Konoha Premier Pot."
The signboard was handwritten by Sora himself—crooked and lacking any elegance, yet exuding carefree charm.
But an ugly sign couldn't block the irresistible aromas wafting out.
It was an aggressive, domineering scent that invaded your nostrils without permission, awakening every greedy worm in your stomach.
The bold spice of rolling red oil, the rich sweet-sour of tomato, the deep umami of mushroom—all intertwining into an invisible net that ensnared every pedestrian.
Inside, the restaurant was already packed and buzzing.
"Inoichi, Shikaku—we were right to invest!" Akimichi Choza gazed at the full hall, his round face unable to hide his delight; his chopsticks never stopped moving.
Nara Shikaku lounged lazily in his chair, yawning. "What a hassle—so many people, noisy headache."
He complained—but his chopstick speed betrayed no such irritation.
Yamanaka Inoichi observed the endless stream of customers. As Ino-Shika-Cho's "diplomat," he focused more on the influence this restaurant would bring.
"Sora, another order of tripe over here!"
"Karin, that table needs more broth!"
"Coming!"
Sora wore a comical apron, weaving through the crowd with his energetic smile—every bit the enthusiastic neighborhood shop owner.
Karin, in neat server attire, bustled with trays—occasionally flustered, but her flushed face radiated excitement and pride.
This was her shop—hers and Brother Sora's family business.
Just then, the door chime rang crisply.
Several figures entered, instantly drawing every eye in the hall.
Leading them: Uchiha clan head, Uchiha Fugaku.
Behind him: his wife Mikoto, eldest son Itachi, and... a clearly reluctant Uchiha Sasuke.
The entire dining hall fell momentarily quiet.
The Uchiha clan had rarely appeared publicly as a family since "that incident."
"Clan Head Fugaku—you're here! Right this way—I've reserved the best table for you!"
Sora welcomed them enthusiastically, his familiarity suggesting years of friendship with the clan head.
Fugaku's expression remained stern, but he nodded slightly to Sora.
This small gesture sent a ripple through the observing representatives from other ninja families.
As Sasuke passed Karin—who was serving dishes—his steps paused. He muttered under his breath, audible only to her.
"So after beating me... this is it? Waiting tables?"
Karin's tray hand tightened.
She lifted her head; her red eyes held no fear—only challenge.
"Waiting tables honestly with my own effort beats some sore-loser young master," she retorted. "At least I'm earning my keep openly."
"You!" Sasuke's face flushed crimson.
"Sasuke." Itachi's calm voice drifted from ahead.
Sasuke gritted his teeth, glared at Karin once more, and hurried after his family.
Karin stuck her tongue out at his retreating back, mood soaring.
Brother Sora was right—when provoked, firing back felt incredibly satisfying.
In the private room, Uchiha Fugaku sat upright and composed.
Sora personally introduced the menu items, as if oblivious to the earlier friction.
"Clan Head Fugaku and Madam—try the mushroom broth; it's nourishing. Itachi and young Sasuke are full of youthful vigor—our signature butter pot is perfect, absolutely thrilling!"
His arrangements were thoughtful and impeccable.
"Sasuke, do not be rude to Captain Akashi," Fugaku commanded, tone brooking no argument.
Sasuke lowered his head, frustration mounting.
Father actually addressed that guy as "Captain"? With honorifics?
Why?!
The restaurant steamed with heat, aromas swirling, voices booming. Sora surveyed the thriving scene, his smile genuine and fulfilled.
This was far more than a hot pot restaurant—it was a vast net he wove for the future, now taking solid shape.