Kyoshiro's eyes narrowed sharply as the faint sound of footsteps reached his ears.
The old Uchiha turned his head, irritation already crawling across his face when he saw who it was.
Fugaku Uchiha.
The clan head walked forward at an unhurried pace, his posture straight, his expression calm to the point of indifference. He carried no weapon in his hands, no visible killing intent, yet his presence alone caused a subtle tension to ripple through the gathered crowd.
Kyoshiro snorted coldly.
"What?" he said with thinly veiled contempt. "Have you come again to stop us? To tell us to bow our heads once more? To beg the village like obedient dogs?"
At his words, the atmosphere shifted.
Every Uchiha present turned their gaze toward Fugaku.
Scarlet Sharingan ignited across the courtyard, dozens of them flaring to life at once. The pressure intensified, heavy and suffocating, like standing in the center of a drawn blade circle.
In recent years, Fugaku's authority as clan head had eroded steadily.
The radical faction led by Kyoshiro openly defied him, dismissing his orders and ridiculing his restraint. To them, Fugaku was not the proud leader of the Uchiha, but a lapdog of Konoha, someone who valued village stability over clan supremacy.
That resentment had only deepened when Fugaku sent his eldest son, Itachi, the once-in-a-generation genius of the Uchiha into the ANBU.
Servants of the Hokage.
That was how the radicals saw it.
How could they accept that the future leader of the clan wore a mask and followed the orders of the Hokage? How could they respect a father who allowed that?
Because of that decision, Fugaku's popularity within his own clan had steadily declined. Among Kyoshiro's faction, it had long since dropped to zero.
Fugaku stopped a few steps away from Kyoshiro.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not flare his chakra.
He simply asked, calmly and evenly, "I just want to ask you one last time."
The courtyard quieted slightly.
"Are you truly sure you want to rebel against the village?"
Kyoshiro threw his head back and let out a shrill, grating laugh.
"Rebel?" he scoffed. "Don't insult us with such words. We are not rebelling."
His gaze sharpened, madness flickering behind his spinning Sharingan.
"We are merely taking what belongs to us."
He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the gathered shinobi.
"The Hokage's seat belongs to the strongest," Kyoshiro declared. "And the strongest clan in this village is the Uchiha."
Fugaku nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the statement.
"The Hokage's position does belong to the strongest," he agreed.
Then his eyes hardened, just slightly.
"But tell me, are you stronger than the Third Hokage?"
Kyoshiro said nothing.
Fugaku continued, his voice steady.
"Are you even, stronger than me?"
Kyoshiro's lips pressed together. After a moment, he shook his head.
"No," he admitted. "I am not."
A few murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Kyoshiro raised his hand, silencing them.
"But," he said, his voice rising again, "we are not alone."
His expression shifted, excitement, reverence, and fanaticism bleeding together.
"We have the blessing of our ancestor," Kyoshiro proclaimed. "With him supporting us, the Uchiha will reclaim the glory that was stolen from us."
The moment the word ancestor left his mouth, Fugaku felt something cold twist in his chest.
A name surfaced in his mind unbidden.
His voice dropped, carrying a trace of confusion and dread.
"…Madara Uchiha."
Kyoshiro's face split into a wide, unhinged grin.
"Yes!" he shouted, his eyes blazing. "Yes!"
He dropped to one knee without hesitation and threw his arms wide toward the night sky.
"PLEASE!" Kyoshiro cried out, voice echoing through the compound. "GRACE US WITH YOUR PRESENCE, ANCESTOR!"
One by one, then all at once, the Uchiha behind him followed.
Hundreds of shinobi knelt.
Their heads bowed.
Their Sharingan burned.
The air trembled.
Then, the Space itself warped.
The world seemed to fold inward, reality distorting like ripples across water. A low, unnatural hum filled the courtyard as a figure emerged where there had been nothing a heartbeat earlier.
He stood calmly before Kyoshiro.
Clad in a black cloak patterned with red clouds.
An orange mask covered his face, carved with a single eyehole shaped like an inverted flame.
Within that socket, a Mangekyo Sharingan spun slowly, its presence alone sending a chill through every Uchiha present.
Silence fell.
Fugaku's breath caught.
The figure tilted his head slightly, surveying the kneeling clan as though looking down on long-lost relics.
"…So this," the masked man said softly, his voice smooth and distorted, "is what remains of the Uchiha."
Fugaku's eyes narrowed, the calm in them sharpening into something cold and deliberate as he subtly shifted his stance. His chakra stirred, restrained but ready, like a blade still sheathed only out of discipline. In a low voice meant for himself alone, he muttered.
"So… he really did appear, just like that brat said."
His gaze remained locked on the masked man. "But not for the rings," Fugaku added quietly, a crease forming between his brows. "He came to back the rebellion."
That part didn't sit right with him. From everything Ren had warned them about, this man moved with intent, never wasting effort, never acting without purpose. Supporting an open rebellion felt sloppy, reckless even. Yet the pressure rolling off the masked figure told Fugaku one thing very clearly, reckless or not, this was still an enemy that could push the village into disaster if allowed to act freely.
Even with both himself and Itachi present… the situation was dangerous.
Fugaku let out a soft, dismissive snort and straightened, his voice carrying clearly across the courtyard.
"So this is it?" he said coolly. "Any upstart puts on a mask, flashes a Mangekyo, calls himself Madara Uchiha and you believe him?"
His eyes flicked briefly toward Kyoshiro. "Age really has dulled you, old man."
Kyoshiro's lips curled into a twisted smile, his eyes blazing with fervor.
"You dare mock this?" he hissed. "He bears the eyes of the ancestor, the Mangekyo Sharingan that led the Uchiha to greatness! The power that stood above all clans!"
Fugaku didn't respond immediately.
Instead, his Sharingan shifted.
The familiar three tomoe spun, then slowed before warping. Lines curved inward, dots stretching and bending as the pattern transformed. Three spiraling shapes emerged, rotating counter-clockwise around his pupil, steady and unmistakable.
The Mangekyo Sharingan.
Kyoshiro froze.
For a moment, he simply stared, his breath catching in his throat.
Fugaku spoke plainly, his tone almost bored.
"I have it too."
Kyoshiro's knees trembled.
Before he could process that, a presence flickered beside Fugaku.
Itachi.
The younger Uchiha stood at his father's side, posture relaxed, eyes half-lidded. Then, slowly, his own Mangekyo bloomed into existence, crimson patterns reflecting the torchlight like twin blades unsheathed at once.
Gasps rippled through the gathered Uchiha.
Fugaku continued, his voice even.
"And my son has it as well."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes boring into Kyoshiro.
"So tell me… which one of us is Madara Uchiha?"
Kyoshiro's mind reeled.
'Impossible.'
'Wasn't it said that the Mangekyo had vanished after the ancestor? That no one since had awakened it? Then how, how were there three standing here now?'
His faith wavered, cracks spreading rapidly through years of obsession.
'Is this man… not the ancestor?'
The thought shook him to his core.
Before panic could fully take hold, a deep, resonant voice cut through the chaos.
"Even if they possess the Mangekyo," the masked man said calmly, "it changes nothing."
He stepped forward slightly, his presence pressing down like a physical weight.
"You continue with your plans," he said to Kyoshiro. "I'll handle these two."
The certainty in his voice was absolute.
Kyoshiro's racing thoughts slowed.
'Yes, this was right. This was how it should be.'
The ancestor is the strongest.
He walks through walls.
No attack can touch him.
These two, no matter their eyes, couldn't do anything to him.
Confidence flooded back into Kyoshiro's expression. He straightened, spine stiffening as he reclaimed the authority he had nearly lost.
He turned back to Fugaku, sneering.
"It doesn't matter what tricks you show us," Kyoshiro declared. "Today, we take what belongs to us."
His voice rose, carrying to every kneeling Uchiha.
"No one," he said, eyes blazing with fanatic conviction, "can stop us."
At that exact moment, Fugaku raised his hand and fired a massive fireball straight into the night sky.
The blazing sphere shot upward, then detonated with a thunderous boom, splitting apart into dozens of smaller fireballs that scattered outward before exploding one after another. The flashes lit up the village rooftops like a signal flare meant for someone who knew how to read it.
Far away, Ren caught sight of the explosions and narrowed his eyes.
"So he really did come," he muttered, lips curling slightly.
He didn't have the luxury of leaving just yet.
Torune's insects surged again, a dark, writhing wave filling the air. Ren clicked his tongue, twisted his body aside, and exhaled sharply. A torrent of fire roared from his mouth, sweeping through the swarm and turning the insects to ash midair. The stench of burning chitin filled the compound.
Before Torune could even begin forming another seal, Ren slammed his foot into the ground.
The earth obeyed instantly.
A cylindrical wall of stone erupted upward, boxing Torune in from all sides. In the same breath, Ren vanished, reappearing directly above the trapped man. He didn't give Torune time to look up.
Another wave of fire poured down like judgment itself.
Torune screamed only once before the flames swallowed him whole. When the fire finally died down, there was nothing left but scorched stone and ash.
With Torune dead, the rest of the Root operatives stopped being a threat.
Ren planted his palm on the ground again, chakra surging outward. The earth beneath the remaining Root shinobi liquefied instantly, turning into thick mud that dragged at their legs. Before they could escape, the ground hardened again, locking them in place up to their waists and chests.
They struggled, some tried to blast the earth, some tried to form seals.
Ren didn't care.
His hands blurred through a series of hand signs before he thrust both palms forward.
[Wind Style: Infinite Wind Blades.]
The air screamed.
Countless razor-sharp wind blades tore forward, slicing through the immobilized Root shinobi like a storm of invisible knives. Bodies were shredded before they could even fall, blood misting the air as the first wave passed through.
Those unlucky enough to survive the initial barrage didn't last long.
A second wave followed immediately, sharper and denser than the first, finishing what remained. In seconds, the entire compound fell silent, littered with bodies that no longer moved.
Ren straightened slowly and exhaled.
He turned his head toward Yoru, who was still locked in brutal combat with Danzo nearby. Their fight was far more restrained but no less lethal, both men relying on subtle movement, feints, and stealth-based techniques, neither gaining a clear upper hand yet.
Ren raised his voice. "Boss-man! He showed up at the Uchiha compound. I'm heading there."
He paused, then added pointedly, "Keep a very close eye on Danzo. Especially after you kill him."
With that, Ren vanished in a flicker of space distortion.
Danzo didn't spare a single glance for the corpses of his fallen Root. Their deaths didn't matter. They had fulfilled their purpose, stalling one of his enemies. With Ren gone, the pressure on him dropped noticeably.
Yoru, on the other hand, didn't really care, though he was confused at Ren's words he said nothing. There was no time. He tightened his grip on his blade and pressed the attack.
~
At the Uchiha compound, chaos was already unfolding.
The instant Fugaku's fire signal went up, the masked man, Obito, lunged toward him. Fugaku reacted immediately, flashing backward and widening the distance, refusing to let Obito get close enough to use whatever cursed technique he relied on.
The two moved through the compound in a deadly chase, rooftops cracking and walls splintering as they crossed them in blurs of motion. Fugaku kept retreating, deliberately drawing Obito away from the gathered Uchiha.
A minute passed like that.
Then a familiar, mocking laugh echoed through the air.
"Hahaha, so you really came, you lovesick fool."
The sound hit Obito like a hammer.
Ren appeared in midair, standing casually atop a shattered roof beam, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with excitement as he stared straight at the masked man.
The real fight was about to begin.
~~~~~
{There will be many things going on simultaneously so I'll keep switching it as we continue, this way it will be more enjoyable for everyone.}