Moonlight, filtering through thin clouds, sparingly cast its light upon the Uchiha Clan District.
Inside a slightly aged residence, the desk lamp in the study emanated a dim, warm glow, dispelling the darkness that seeped in from outside the window.
Uchiha Yashiro sat upright at the desk, his grizzled hair looking even more withered under the lamplight, his face etched with the marks of time and hardship.
He held a fountain pen in his hand, its nib slowly and meticulously moving across the yellowed paper, emitting a soft scratching sound.
[...]
[Mother, time flies so fast. Today is your death anniversary again. The wild grass by your tombstone has turned green and then yellow, yellow and then green. In the blink of an eye, I am already forty-five this year. With your blessing, I have lived to this day.]
[That child, Shinta, is very promising. Last year, he awakened the Three Tomoe Sharingan and became a Jonin. I am proud of him, but he keeps clamoring to go to the battlefield, yet I made him join the Police Force.]
[This is a bit of my selfishness, perhaps. If possible, I hope he can live safely until I die...]
[Last month, I became a grandfather. I really like that little one...]
A smile graced Uchiha Yashiro's face, but his handwriting paused here.
[However, thinking about it, I haven't spoken to you in twenty years. Every time I stand before your tomb, so many things I want to say get stuck in my throat, unable to come out. No wonder Inabi and the others always say I'm not good with words...]
[Father also went to be with you last year. Because of the Nine-Tails' attack back then, we were forced to move out of our ancestral land. Even when Father passed away, he hadn't forgotten this. You always complained that he was too nostalgic in life, and now it seems that's true...]
[But as a son, I also wish to fulfill Father's last wish, to be able to move back to our original home, instead of being driven to the most remote corner of the village like this, like discarded trash...]
[By then, I should also be retired. I'll take Shinta and the others to your and Father's tombstone, and we'll talk to you and Father. I'm sure you and Father will be able to hear us, right?]
[Perhaps, I will die on the battlefield, and be buried beside you and Father. By then, I'll talk to you then, and I'm sure you and Father will be able to hear me, right?]
The pen nib paused for a long time here, and a drop of ink fell onto the paper, spreading into a small black blot.
Uchiha Yashiro raised a hand to rub his aching eyes, a hint of weariness flashing in his eyes under the dim lamplight.
"Indeed, I'm getting old, becoming more and more like an old man..."
He sighed, closed the diary, and carefully locked it in the desk drawer.
Then, he stood up, stretched his slightly stiff back, and turned off the study lamp. The entire room plunged into dimness, with only the faint moonlight seeping in from the window.
Click.
Uchiha Yashiro pushed open the study door, preparing to cross the living room to return to his bedroom to rest.
His son was on duty with the Police Force, and his daughter-in-law and grandson were already asleep. The living room lights weren't on, only the moonlight filtering through the windows, casting a few blurred patches of light on the floor.
The air was quiet; it seemed only his own footsteps and breathing could be heard.
However, just as he reached the center of the living room, an inexplicable chill shot up his spine without warning.
He abruptly stopped, his muscles tensing instantly.
Almost an instinctive reaction, scarlet Three Tomoe suddenly appeared in his eyes, his sharp gaze sweeping towards the deepest shadow by the entrance.
"Who's there?" Uchiha Yashiro's voice carried a hint of vigilance and tension.
In the dead of night, silently infiltrating his home—was it an enemy or someone else?
However, as his Sharingan pierced through the dimness and he clearly saw the figure standing silently in the shadows, his previously taut body unconsciously relaxed, like a deflated balloon.
"Fugaku-sama?"
Yashiro carefully scrutinized Uchiha Fugaku, confirming it was truly Lord Fugaku. The vigilant scarlet light in his eyes quickly receded, and he let out a sigh of relief, murmuring: "Why are you here?"
From the shadows, Uchiha Fugaku's figure slowly emerged, the moonlight illuminating his perpetually calm and stern face, his gaze unwavering, his posture upright.
"Yashiro, I apologize for disturbing you late at night, but there's an important matter I need to discuss with you."
Fugaku's tone was low and steady, and he gently said: "This is not the place to talk. Follow me."
At this very moment, within Uchiha Fugaku's mental world.
"No! Yashiro! Don't go with him!"
"Run! Run!"
"He's here to kill you!"
"No, it's me! It's me who wants to kill you!"
Uchiha Fugaku's self-consciousness, confined deep within his mind, was now screaming and struggling frantically, his expression twisted with pain!
He looked at Yashiro's face, which held trust and closeness, at Yashiro's unguarded state, and the pain felt like countless blunt knives repeatedly carving into his soul!
Uchiha Shisui's actions were exactly as that dark figure had said before! The very next day, he was already impatiently controlling his body to lure clan members!
And the first target chosen was Uchiha Yashiro, the most respected and reliable person in the clan apart from himself, the Clan Head!
What a joke! Yashiro's attitude towards the village's higher-ups was not as radical as that of young people like Inabi. Instead, he, like Fugaku, had always been guiding the more extreme and discontented clan members.
Uchiha Yashiro's demand had always been simple: for the Uchiha clan to return to its rightful position, and for the Uchiha name not to be slandered by the villagers!
But, merely for this, now...
"Shisui! Itachi! Is Yashiro beyond saving in your eyes??"
Fugaku wanted to roar, wanted to give a warning.
But all efforts were useless; his voice couldn't reach the outside, like sinking into the deep sea, unable to stir even a ripple!
"Is it about the coup?"
At this moment, hearing Uchiha Fugaku's words, Yashiro's expression also grew serious. He spoke as he changed his clothes.
But just as he followed behind Fugaku, put on his shoes, and prepared to leave the house.
"Wah! Wah!"
A loud and sudden cry pierced the stillness of the night.
Immediately after, the lights in the master bedroom came on, and a woman's slightly weary but gentle soothing voice could be heard: "Oh, oh, oh, good boy, don't cry, don't cry, Grandma's here..."
Uchiha Yashiro unconsciously stopped. The bedroom door also opened then, and a woman of gentle and serene demeanor emerged, holding a child in her arms.
"Yashiro, why..."
Yashiro's wife looked at Yashiro at the entrance, intending to say something, but suddenly saw the figure standing behind Yashiro. A hint of surprise appeared on her still sleep-laden face.
"Fu-Fugaku-sama?"
Her voice carried confusion and a trace of unconscious unease.
Before Yashiro could explain, Uchiha Fugaku took a step forward, and a gentle, slightly apologetic smile appeared on his usually calm and serious face.
"I truly apologize, Ryoko, for disturbing your rest so late. The child has been woken up."
Fugaku apologized in a lowered voice, his gaze falling on the child, a hint of elder's affection in his smile: "The little one has grown quite a bit."
Then, he looked at Yashiro's wife, his smile unchanged: "Can I borrow Yashiro for a moment? There's an urgent matter in the clan that needs his help to resolve. He'll be back soon."
"Fugaku-sama, you are too kind," a smile reappeared on Yashiro's wife's face. "It is an honor for our whole family that Yashiro can help the clan."
Saying that, she lowered her head, cooed to the child in her arms, then looked up, her gaze gently falling on her husband, and softly urged: "It's cold outside. Finish your business and come home early."
She and Yashiro had no suspicion of Fugaku whatsoever, only a deep respect for the Clan Head's late-night visit.
After all, Lord Fugaku's composure was renowned throughout the clan; even she, a woman who rarely showed her face, knew that he would never be so presumptuous unless it was an extremely important matter.
"No, no, stop him! Stop him!" In the mental space, the real Fugaku kept shaking his head, roaring, "Shisui! Itachi! What are you doing?"
"Mm, I know."
Uchiha Yashiro nodded seriously, then looked at his grandson, whose face was crumpled up in his wife's arms. His gaze softened, and he gently touched his grandson's warm little cheek with his finger.
Only then did he turn around and follow behind Fugaku, stepping out of the warm yellow light of the entrance, his figure gradually disappearing into the darkness of the night.
His wife held the child, standing in the warm light, watching her husband's figure leave, then gently closed the door.
She would not know that soft instruction was the last thing she would say to her husband.
She would also not know that "come home early" would become a promise that could never be fulfilled.
And she would certainly not know that the Clan Head who had just shown a loving smile to her child, the man she and her clan members trusted immensely, believing he would lead them to a better future.
Was leading her husband, step by step, towards a death already planned.
The night wind blew coolly against their faces.
Fugaku led the way without a word, his steps steady, heading towards a secluded area on the outskirts of the clan district.
Uchiha Yashiro quietly followed behind, still pondering what urgent matter the Clan Head needed him for so late at night.
Was it a divergence within the radical faction?
Or new developments from the village's higher-ups?
Or had their secret procurement of supplies been exposed?
At this moment, he completely failed to notice that the gentle smile Uchiha Fugaku had shown when facing the child earlier had long since vanished from the face of the man walking in front of him.
In its place was a calmness deeper than the night itself.
Finally, Uchiha Fugaku stopped.
Uchiha Yashiro, who had been engrossed in thought with his head down, snapped back to reality. He looked up and glanced around, realizing that without knowing it, they had already moved far away from any habitation.
Here, there was only the chirping of insects and the rustling of wind through the leaves.
"Fugaku-sama, you..."
Yashiro turned to look at Fugaku before him, opening his mouth, just about to ask something.
But the next moment, a pair of scarlet eyes opened in the darkness behind Fugaku.