The caravan stretched from the gates of Konoha like a snake, winding down the forest road. Dust rose under every footstep, mingling with the faint scent of smoke still clinging to the clothes of those who had left hurriedly. Hashirama walked at the front with Minato, eyes scanning the road ahead, his expression unreadable but heavy with the knowledge of what had just been done.
The decision had not been small. His words yesterday had shaken the entire village like an earthquake. Now, only two of the old adviser families remained behind — those who had clung to Danzō and Sarutobi's politics for decades. They had not even stepped outside their gates, and when Hashirama had passed by their compound that morning, their shutters had been tightly closed. He didn't need to hear the whispers to know what they were thinking. If they set foot in Uchiha territory, they would never leave again. They had no illusions about how many they had betrayed over the years.
Behind Hashirama and Minato came a wall of clan banners.
The Nara walked in disciplined formation, their leaders keeping quiet but their eyes constantly scanning angles and shadows. Shikaku marched alongside a few of his senior tacticians, heads bent occasionally over quickly-scribbled notes.
The Inuzuka were less restrained — their ninken padded alongside them, tongues lolling, sensing the uncertainty in the air. Tsume Inuzuka kept to the middle ranks, sharp eyes raking the treeline for threats.
The Yamanaka carried their archives in scroll bundles, each one strapped tightly to the back of a clan member. Inoichi walked near the front of their group, occasionally catching up to the Nara to murmur something under his breath. Their long alliance was still very much alive.
Kakashi moved alone, though he walked close enough to Minato to hear anything important. He carried nothing but a small pack, his one eye always drifting to the people around him, measuring reactions.
The Ichimiko clan made their way silently, a small but notable group, their presence marked by the careful way they carried spears wrapped in white cloth. The Kurama walked close together, children kept in the middle, their genjutsu artists scanning the crowd with quiet, calculating faces.
Even the Hyūga had come. Hiashi walked at the front of his clan, byakugan inactive but posture sharp. Their column moved in perfect rhythm, steps producing a faintly unsettling synchronicity — the mark of training from an age when their discipline was unquestioned.
The forest road made room for them whether it wanted to or not.
It was not an easy march. The weight of abandoning what had been home for generations crushed even those most eager for change. Mothers hushed small children; older shinobi stared straight ahead, as if refusing to look back. Somewhere deep in the line, a teenager was crying softly, the sound muffled quickly by a parent's hand.
By midday, the air had grown warmer. The sound of conversation rose and fell from different pockets of the caravan. At times, there would be long silences where no one seemed willing to speak — then bursts of discussion when one clan spoke to another about shared concerns.
Shikaku eventually left his own group to walk beside Hashirama. He kept his voice low so only the First Hokage could hear. "They're following you, not Mali. Don't forget that. Some of them still don't trust Uchiha hands on power."
Hashirama didn't break stride. "Mali knows. If he's wise, he'll let me carry their trust until they see the truth for themselves."
"Truth has a habit of looking different depending on who tells it," Shikaku murmured. He didn't wait for a reply before falling back in line.
Not long after, Tsume Inuzuka caught up from behind. "You realise some in my clan still remember raids against our lands by Uchiha patrols decades ago? They'll need a reason not to see this as exchanging one master for another."
Hashirama stopped briefly, just enough that the Inuzuka leader was forced to meet his eyes. "They'll get not one reason, but many. Mali's rules aren't Konoha's. If they were, I wouldn't be bringing you there."
They continued on.
By the time the sun began to sink, the jagged black outline of Uchiha walls rose against the orange sky. The air seemed thicker here. Some swore they could feel a vibration coming from the sealing marks carved into the black stone.
Voices murmured uneasily within the caravan. Children stared upward, adults narrowed their eyes, weighing strength against perceived threat.
At the great gate stood Mali, flanked by two guards whose armor gleamed with fresh oil. Above on the wall, Izuna Uchiha watched with crossed arms, his gaze moving across every face like a reader scanning a scroll for hidden meaning.
The caravan slowed. Feet shuffled in the dirt. Tension visible in the set of shoulders and the subtle shifts of hands toward weapons — not in open aggression, but out of habit.
When Hashirama stopped before the gate, Mali stepped forward. His face remained still, unreadable. "You brought nearly the whole village."
"Those who stayed," Hashirama said evenly, "knew they could never live under your law. Old blood who fed on Danzō's teeth and Sarutobi's shade."
"They'll die with their field," Izuna called from above, his voice carrying down with unsettling certainty.
A murmur ran through parts of the caravan. Mali let it pass without comment. Instead, he took two slow steps forward, his eyes passing over the Nara, the Inuzuka, the Hyūga, each in turn. He lingered a little longer on Hiashi than the others, as if testing something unspoken.
Hashirama moved slightly forward to make sure his presence shielded some of the unease in the crowd. "They came for survival," he said. "It's on us to make sure they find more than that here."
Mali finally gave a short nod. "Then let them in. Tonight they eat, tomorrow they learn the rules."
The gates creaked as they opened. The first clans stepped hesitantly into Uchiha territory. The streets inside were clean, the stone buildings marked with clan seals. Torches lit the main avenue, their flames steady in the still air.
Izuna came down from the wall, meeting Mali halfway up the steps to the gate. He kept his voice low enough for most to miss: "You've just let in Nara tacticians, Yamanaka mind-readers, Hyūga eyes, Inuzuka trackers… and that's only the start."
Mali glanced sidelong at him. "Yes. Our enemies will also be our tools. And tools work best when they believe they are partners."
By nightfall, the arrivals had been divided into temporary quarters. The Nara and Yamanaka settled near each other, maintaining their old lines of communication with little secrecy. The Inuzuka claimed a long building with access to an open yard — their ninken needed space. The Hyūga asked for seclusion and were given it, though Izuna made a note of the location with deliberate care. Kakashi stayed close to Minato, avoiding most interaction, though his eye missed nothing.
In the main hall, Mali met privately with Izuna and Hashirama. A large map stretched across the table between them, showing Uchiha land and the outer regions. Small carved pieces marked clan positions.
"They're safe here for now," Mali said, "but our rules must become theirs immediately. No separate law for old Konoha names."
"Push too fast and you'll break them," Hashirama warned. "Give them structure. Make them see the order works."
"Order works," Izuna said, "when those under it fear what happens without it."
Mali studied them both. "Fear may be necessary."
Outside, the sounds of the caravans settling for the night mixed with low conversations, the scent of cooking fires, and the ever-present hum of wards along the walls. Somewhere, a Hyūga sentry tested his byakugan against the barrier and found it blacked out entirely. He said nothing, but the stiff set of his shoulders said a great deal.
The two old adviser families who had refused to come remained in Konoha's ghost shell, the great walls around them sheltering only the echo of a village. They told themselves they had escaped slaughter. They did not realise yet that they had sentenced themselves to something slower.
By the time the torches burned low, Mali stood alone at the gate, looking out over the empty road.