Chapter 12 – The Hokage's Promise
Just moments ago, the air between Hiruzen and Danzō had been charged with hostility—sharp as steel, every word a clash of blades.
But the moment Danzō stepped out and the office door shut behind him, the Third Hokage's expression softened. His shoulders loosened, and his eyes, shadowed by age, fell quietly to the papers before him.
After decades of working side by side, the two men needed no words to understand one another. A single glance was often enough.
After all, Hiruzen had his own role to maintain—his posture, his image, the weight of the word Hokage.
Still… another pair of Mangekyō Sharingan?
The thought stirred a faint unease deep within him.
He pondered for a moment, then gestured with his hand.
From the corner of the room, a shadow stirred.
Uchiha Itachi emerged silently, kneeling at Hiruzen's side.
"Lord Third," he said respectfully.
Though the revelations of the past few days had shaken his faith to its core, Itachi's demeanor remained perfectly composed. In fact, after witnessing Hiruzen's confrontation with Danzō, his attitude seemed even more deferential.
Precisely because he now understood the true nature of the man before him, Itachi had grown more careful—more measured.
Hiruzen smiled kindly, his tone soft, gentle—nothing like the sharp, commanding man Danzō had faced minutes ago.
"No need for such formality, Itachi-kun. When it's just us, you can relax a little."
He leaned forward, his eyes warm with grandfatherly concern.
"You mustn't worry. The Uchiha are still an important pillar of the village. There are many like you—loyal to Konoha above all else. I won't allow Danzō to act recklessly."
"Lord Third, I…" Itachi's lips quivered beneath his mask. His head dipped slightly, as though weighed down by invisible guilt.
"You're a good child," Hiruzen said softly. His voice carried a weary sigh.
"I know this must be painful for you. To see a few misguided souls in your clan turn against the village—it's not your fault."
"Yes, Lord Third." Itachi's voice sharpened with conviction.
"Konoha cannot afford traitors, not now. As a shinobi of the Leaf, I will fulfill my duty."
Watching him, Hiruzen's eyes softened once more.
Good. The boy was still within reach. Still his.
"Excellent, Itachi-kun. The village needs young men like you—ones who can see beyond clan, who understand the true vision of the Hokage."
He paused, then asked,
"What about this new Mangekyō wielder? Any leads?"
Itachi's gaze flickered in thought.
"As far as I know, the only confirmed Mangekyō in the clan belongs to Shisui. But precisely because Shisui has aligned himself with Root, the other must be keeping their identity hidden. In a few days, the clan assembly will convene—I'll try to gather information then."
"I'll also keep an eye on my father's movements."
Hiruzen nodded in approval, satisfaction glimmering behind his calm facade.
Yes. This was the right kind of Uchiha—one who spoke of loyalty, of service, of peace.
"Konoha's Uchiha," he thought.
"A boy like Itachi could be the bridge we've been waiting for."
If only his old bones could hold out long enough… long enough to see such a child take his rightful place, leading the clan into harmony with the village.
"Then I leave it to you, Itachi."
"Yes, Lord Third."
Itachi bowed deeply. Yet as he lowered his head, his eyes grew distant, shadowed with something unreadable.
---
Outside, Danzō Shimura strode through the Hokage building's halls, his cane striking the floor with deliberate rhythm. His expression was calm now—coldly calm—but in the depth of his single eye, a glint of frost lingered.
"Hmph… that fool Hiruzen."
He snorted quietly to himself.
The old man had his own fears—he knew how dangerous another Mangekyō could be—but he still wrapped it in his moral preaching.
Had Danzō been Hokage, the Uchiha problem would've been crushed before it even bloomed.
But Hiruzen?
The older he got, the softer he became.
Still, beneath the surface of their argument, both men had understood each other perfectly.
"No 'reckless' moves," Hiruzen had said.
Which really meant: as long as Danzō acted within "reasonable" limits, Hiruzen would clean up the mess afterward.
So then—what was considered "out of bounds"?
Danzō's lips twisted in a grim smile.
A thin trace of killing intent flickered across his face.
"Whoever dares to kill my Root," he thought coldly, "will pay the price."
And yet… his mind returned to one name.
Shisui Uchiha.
Even if the man hadn't left the Root base last night, Danzō couldn't dismiss him entirely. That cursed genjutsu of his—Kotoamatsukami—had to be dealt with, and soon.
---
The next day, grim news swept through the Uchiha compound.
Four patrol squads stationed on Konoha's outer perimeter—gone.
When the bodies were finally recovered days later, sixteen shinobi were dead.
The official report from the ANBU was predictable:
"Killed by Cloud Village operatives in revenge for casualties suffered during the pursuit of Orochimaru."
A story crafted to pacify the public.
But neither the Uchiha clan nor the higher-ups in Konoha believed a word of it.
Everyone understood what it really was.
A message. A warning.
An open provocation.
And with that, the fuse was lit.
---
"Fugaku!! How much longer do you intend to wait?!"
The roar thundered through the underground meeting hall, making the candle flames flicker violently. The speaker's hands were clenched so tight his nails drew blood, his scarlet Sharingan burning like coals as he glared around the room.
It was Uchiha Setsuna, the hawkish elder and current leader of the clan's militant faction.
"First they seize our authority, then they watch our every move!" he shouted. "And when we yield, when we endure—what do we receive in return?"
"Slaughter! Mockery!"
He slammed a fist on the table.
"Shima, Yajima, Toyomi… I watched those children grow up! And now they're corpses—cut down by the very people who call themselves our comrades!"
"Are we still going to sit here and wait for the next body to fall?!"
His words rang with fury and conviction.
And with the recent provocations—the deaths, the surveillance, the whispers—every word struck deep into the hearts of the gathered Uchiha.
The hall trembled not from sound, but from what was building inside it.
Rage.
Fear.
Resolve.
And at the far end of the table, Fugaku's eyes remained half-lidded, calm and unreadable.
But deep within, something had already begun to shift.
Itachi sat quietly in the lower seat, his expression unreadable as the elders' heated voices echoed through the chamber. His gaze swept over the assembled clansmen, indifferent, detached—until it reached Shisui.
For just a moment, his eyes softened. Then he gave a faint, weary shake of the head.
"Heh… The Third Hokage's guarantee, huh?"
Even after reading the secret archives, even after seeing the truth of the village with his own eyes, the reality before him still carried a bitter sting.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had expected—yet watching it happen in real time filled him with something that was neither anger nor sorrow, but a quiet, crushing sense of inevitability.
The attack on Root might have been hidden from ordinary clansmen, but among the upper echelon of the Uchiha, no one was ignorant.
Everyone knew.
And though the identity of that mysterious second Mangekyō wielder had not yet been revealed, both the hawkish elders and the so-called "moderates" had chosen the same approach—
to downplay the entire incident.
After all, Itachi understood better than anyone: everyone present in that secret chamber was an Uchiha, a bearer of the Sharingan—a bloodline that sharpened perception, but corroded reason.
No one here was truly sane.
A single piece of uncertain, inflammatory news could ignite the whole clan into chaos.
Their silence, their calculated restraint, proved one thing:
Neither faction, not even their most well-informed leaders, had any clue who that mysterious Mangekyō user truly was.
---
"Enough, Elder Setsuna."
The voice from the upper seat cut through the murmurs.
Uchiha Fugaku sat with his arms folded, his cold eyes locking onto Setsuna's fiery gaze, his own three-tomoe Sharingan spinning slowly.
"The truth is still unclear," he said evenly. "If Root was responsible, then as clan head, I will demand an explanation directly from the Hokage himself."
"But whether we have truly controlled our own people… whether we have kept the situation stable… is another question entirely."
"Elder Setsuna," Fugaku continued, his tone heavy with authority, "I hope you understand what that means."
Setsuna's jaw twitched.
That was as good as accusing him outright—saying he couldn't control his own hawkish subordinates.
And the worst part was… Fugaku wasn't wrong.
Assassinating Root operatives—such audacity was exactly in line with the hawks' methods. Yet even he, their leader, had no idea who had actually done it.
Now he could only swallow the humiliation, tasting bile and bitterness, hiding it behind a brittle sneer.
"So what if that's true?" he snapped.
"In the end, it's because we've been too soft! If we'd acted when we still had the chance, things wouldn't have come to this—"
His words sparked another round of argument, the familiar tug-of-war between the radicals and the moderates reigniting like old coals catching flame.
Whether to proceed with the coup.
Whether to wait.
Whether peace was still possible.
Itachi had heard it all before.
The same circular debate, the same righteous fury. None of it mattered anymore. Not when the clan's "strongest" shinobi—Uchiha Shisui—sat among the doves.
He stared blankly at the flickering candles, his mind far away.
When the meeting finally adjourned, nothing had changed. No conclusion, no unity—just exhausted faces and the lingering scent of frustration.
He rose to leave, stepping into the cool night air outside Naka Shrine.
That was when he heard it.
"Itachi-kun."
A calm, familiar voice called out from behind him.
He turned.
Shisui stood there, his usual warmth replaced by an uncharacteristic solemnity.
"Itachi," he said quietly. "Come with me. We need to talk."
Itachi hesitated for only a moment, then nodded.
He understood immediately what this was about.
And without another word, he followed.