Chapter 84 - CHAPTER 84

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"No matter how you spin it, the Uchiha are deeply suspicious—unless they can truly uncover the identity of the mysterious figure from the night of the Nine-Tails attack."

"Tch. Like I don't know what you're really thinking?"

Tsunade's voice cut through the room, sharp and biting.

"Why are you still trying to pin this on the Uchiha? Everyone knows the truth. Don't flatter me with your fake courtesy—it makes me sick."

She rolled her eyes without restraint, giving the Third Hokage a withering look.

"Ahem…!"

Hiruzen coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject.

"In the next few days, you need to prepare yourself. It's time to take over responsibilities. Koharu and Homura will assist you. I know you don't like them, but they can still support you, Tsunade."

"I got it. Ugh. I didn't want this job to begin with, but here I am, sitting here like some damned bureaucrat."

Tsunade waved her hand dismissively, signaling Hiruzen to drop it. Her disdain for Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado was no secret, but she also understood that they had experience—even if it came with an unbearable smugness.

She knew how these two operated. They were annoying but skilled manipulators, seasoned in handling power. Working with them meant enduring their sanctimonious tones and overbearing tendencies.

"I'll say it upfront: they can assist me, sure, but I'm the one calling the shots. I won't tolerate interference. My decisions are mine to make."

"I'll remind them," the Third Hokage replied, sighing. What else could he say?

Tsunade was no Minato. And she sure wasn't Jiraiya. Both of them, in their own ways, had butted heads with authority. But Minato had always respected Hiruzen's guidance. Tsunade? She'd fight back if you tried to force her hand.

That night, Uchiha Yan stood silently in his bathroom, clutching a small glass vial in his hand.

Inside it floated a bloodied Sharingan—Obito's eye, which he had extracted from Kakashi's body.

Kakashi lacked Uchiha blood. At this point in the timeline, he hadn't developed the true potential of the Sharingan and could only utilize it like an ordinary one.

It wasn't until years later—after Naruto matured and the Konoha 12 graduated—that Kakashi began unlocking its real power. But even then, the Kamui drained him completely. One activation could deplete almost all his chakra.

Yan's grip on the vial tightened. He put it down and retrieved a kunai, staring at the sharp blade as it hovered over his palm.

With a quick slice, blood welled up from the wound. But even as it dripped, the cut began healing almost immediately.

Asura Chakra.

Yan's body had absorbed a significant amount of it, strengthening his physical regeneration to incredible levels. Still, he wasn't ruthless enough—not yet.

He let out a self-mocking laugh.

No more hesitation.

Bringing the vial closer, he aligned the Sharingan with his left eye socket and pushed.

Pain—searing and bone-deep—shot through his head as blood streamed down his cheek. His vision blurred, his body trembled.

Did Madara and Obito just ignore this agony like it was nothing? They made replacing eyes seem easier than drinking tea.

But his nerves and blood vessels were reconnecting.

His Asura-enhanced body was knitting the tissues together, healing and adapting.

A faint green chakra glow radiated from his eye socket—the indicator of his body's healing process at work.

Once it was stable, he washed the blood from his face, resealed the original eye into a scroll, and exhaled deeply.

"Soon. It'll all be over soon."

He wouldn't be using Obito's Sharingan often. It wasn't truly his. Even now, he could feel the subtle rejection from within his body.

Kakashi may not have felt it, lacking the Uchiha bloodline, but Yan did. Even though Obito was an Uchiha, the Sharingan still wasn't his own.

Still, the repulsion wasn't intolerable—just uncomfortable.

As the green healing glow faded, Yan opened his eye.

A scarlet three-tomoe Sharingan rotated into view. Then, its form began to shift, the tomoe spinning and changing into the shape of the Mangekyō Sharingan.

But the two eyes didn't match.

Obito's kaleidoscope pattern was triangular with barbs at the edge, the points linked in a clockwise spiral. His own remained slightly different, though it shared a central triangular motif.

It wasn't an issue of compatibility—more one of power.

Kakashi, lacking Uchiha lineage, had never accessed the full might of this eye.

At dawn, Yan arrived early at the newly restructured Konoha Police Department.

Uchiha Fugaku's secretary had delivered a formal appointment letter, a squadron leader's insignia, and an official uniform.

Under Fugaku's reformation, the department's leadership now consisted of three squadron leaders, each managing five teams. Fugaku had even shifted Itachi's former team under Yan's command.

On this first day, the new leaders had no pressing tasks. They reviewed minor cases and began familiarizing themselves with operations.

It was a quiet day.

None of the clan members noticed that Yan's right eye had been replaced.

After work, Uchiha Chimi picked up meals from a nearby shop and returned home.

"Big bro! How's it feel to be a squadron leader? Super badass, right?" his younger brother, Ryoichi, beamed while resting on the couch.

"Shut up and eat."

Chimi barked the command half-heartedly. He hadn't mentioned the details of the police department to his brother.

He wasn't as popular or strong as Yan. His position wasn't stable. The subordinates under him weren't exactly respectful.

Fugaku had placed him in the role, but without deeper support, others questioned his legitimacy.

Unlike Yan, who had both seniority and strength, Chimi lacked the prestige.

And many of the squad leaders beneath him were reluctant to follow someone without that authority.

He glanced at his injured brother lying on the sofa. Sighing, he walked into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

When he stepped out again, a voice called to him from outside the window.

"Uchiha Chimi. The Great Elder requests your presence."

So it begins.

Chimi dressed and made his way to the residence of the Great Elder.

"Great Elder," he greeted, kneeling and bowing respectfully.

"Did you meet with Uchiha Yan last night?" the elder's voice was calm—but cold.

"Yes."

Chimi wanted to deny it. But this was the leader of the hardliners. Lying would only worsen things.

"I knew it! That brat is up to no good!"

The Great Elder's face darkened, his anger boiling over as he hurled his teacup across the room.

"Did he try to win you over? Convince you to abandon us?!"

So… they were being followed.

Chimi clenched his fists.

"Yes, he wanted to win me over—but he never asked me to betray the faction."

"You think I'd believe that?!" the elder slammed his palm onto the table repeatedly. "Don't you see what this is?! It's a coup disguised as cooperation! The clan meeting was a trap!"

He paced furiously.

"I once thought Yan was a talent. Now I see—he's a wolf. Biting everyone who gets in his way."

But as the elder ranted, he failed to notice Chimi's expression shift.

His eyes grew dim—haunted.

Yan had approached him, yes.

But not out of ambition or manipulation. He'd never pressured him to switch sides.

Everything he had said made sense.

Everything was open. Honest.

Yet, here was the elder, distrusting him after years of loyalty.

"Why did you go see Uchiha Yan?! Are you betraying us now?!"

The elder's words were sharp. Condemning.

Chimi rose, catching the table the elder kicked toward him.

"No," he said calmly. "I wanted to understand why he helped me… why the patriarch chose me. I had questions. That's all."

"You fool!"

The elder's fury reached a breaking point.

But Chimi stood his ground.

"I haven't betrayed the faction. I haven't accepted his invitation. I've done nothing wrong."

He bowed again, voice resolute.

"We're all family. There should be no prejudice, no internal conflict. I still serve the Uchiha. But trust must go both ways."

With that, Chimi turned and walked away.

The elder stared after him, seething—yet strangely uncertain.

Chimi, for the first time, questioned where his loyalty had truly led him.

Was he a servant of the clan?

Or just a disposable pawn?

The silence left in the elder's home spoke louder than any of his accusations.

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