Ryusei's eyes narrowed.
"I have a few suggestions, uncle. The best path for you is simple: do nothing. Stay where you are now. Let me move from the inside."
Kazuo blinked. "Inside Konoha? You mean… remain among them?"
"Yes. That's where the real game is. Wouldn't you rather return to Konoha one day?"
"Overthrow the Hokage's faction, expose their crimes, and take revenge properly? I still have some evidence left secretly from my father that no one else knows about. I'll gather more. I'll get stronger. I'll build allies."
"The Uchiha, perhaps even part of the Hyūga, and who knows who else I could find. And also don't underestimate this: the Hokage's faction has made enemies everywhere. All I need is the strength and leverage to bring them together."
Kazuo studied him carefully. "That's an ambitious claim."
"It's the only realistic one," Ryusei shot back.
"Running or hiding will only get you killed. But if I succeed, I'll also try and build a reputation in this war. A hero, maybe even a Hokage candidate, or at least someone too difficult to assassinate again. In that position, I can openly call myself Senju once more, reconnect with any surviving members, and expose Konoha's crimes when it matters most. That's how we regain bargaining power, maybe even our lost compounds and heritage slowly over time."
Kazuo let out a low, humorless laugh. "And if you fail? Then you'll die too."
Ryusei leaned closer. "If I fail, then yes, we die forgotten. But if we succeed, the Senju will rise again, not as fugitives, but as rulers. Think clearly, uncle: the only way forward isn't to escape Konoha, impossible. It's to take it for ourselves. In danger lies the greatest opportunity."
Kazuo fell silent.
Ryusei continued, voice steady. "The war will last many years. That's enough time for me to grow in strength, influence, and reputation. When the moment is right and my position is consolidated, I'll call you back to your hometown. You'll return not as outlaws, but as respected elders of the Senju reborn."
"So we're just to do nothing for the foreseeable future and rely entirely on you?" Kazuo asked suspiciously.
Ryusei chuckled, then smirked. "No. There's something big waiting for you to do. In fact, your current identities and positions are amazing assets—if you know how to use them."
Kazuo frowned. "Assets? We're nothing more than glorified retainers to the Daimyo."
"Exactly," Ryusei said sharply. "The Daimyo trusts you with important matters. That trust itself is leverage for our survival, for revival, for revenge, and ultimately for taking back influence in Konoha. But not in the way you originally intended. You wanted to run. Wrong. You must go bolder."
Kazuo's eyes narrowed. "Bolder?"
"Yes. You can keep your plan of stealing some gold, but only in small amounts—just enough not to make the Daimyo suspicious. Use it to build pawns and loyal people, but focus only on the capital, especially inside the palace. Also in the entourages of his relatives, brothers, sons, uncles, and other royal family members who control the Daimyo's central territory. Forget the outer regions with other feudal lords. The core is all that matters."
Kazuo looked uneasy. "Inside the palace itself? That's practically suicide."
"Not if you're careful, and precisely because it sounds so reckless, it might actually succeed," Ryusei replied.
"Konoha surely keeps shinobi near the Daimyo and his kin, but far fewer than around the Daimyo himself. And you know the royal family better than anyone. Use that. But never overreach, just enough so that when the time comes, you'll still have pieces to move. Spread the six of you among the Daimyo and the key successors, even use shadow clones if needed."
Kazuo let out a humorless laugh. "It still sounds like suicide."
"Not during peacetime, and not if you manage to cover both the Daimyo and his most likely successors. That turns from danger into leverage. Think, uncle, Konoha is about to enter the Third Shinobi World War. All the other great villages will be aiming at them. In the middle of that, can they risk you killing the Daimyo and his heirs? Of course not. The chaos would rip the Land of Fire apart. They would have to wait until the war ended before they could move against you."
Kazuo went quiet, but his expression grew grim.
Ryusei pressed on. "The last war dragged on for around 5 years. This one could last even more. That's enough time for me to rise, build strength and reputation, overturn the situation. And your handle on the Daimyo will be my backup card, a way to save my life, gain a position, or push our goals forward when needed.",
"Without the Daimyo's central domain, nearly a quarter of Fire Country, the remaining lords scatter. Konoha won't be able to stabilize before the other villages exploit the chaos. So nothing will happen to you, as long as you succeed."
"And if we fail?" Kazuo asked quietly.
"Then you'll die," Ryusei said without hesitation. "But this is still the best path for you. If I have to rely on myself alone, I might not survive this war without leverage and allow you to return safely to Konoha. With this, we have a real chance."
"But there are only six of us," Kazuo said slowly. "Although the other five are also probably jonin level in strength, to various degrees, if we spread ourselves thin with too many shadow clones, we'll only weaken our own strength. How can we control the entire situation like that…?"
He was beginning to seriously consider Ryusei's idea, but this was the first problem that came to mind.
"Of course not," Ryusei answered at once. "You won't be the only ones forever. Once you have the Daimyo and his key relatives under your control, you'll coerce them for resources."
"With that, you can start bringing in others. Underworld shinobi, mercenaries, those who will follow when they see you already holding the reins. Not before, when they might just betray you."
Kazuo frowned again. "Mercenaries aren't reliable."
"That's why you only hire those below you," Ryusei said. "Chūnin, genin, nothing stronger. After the war begins, there will be plenty. Desertions happen in every war. Missions get deadlier, loyalties break, and those who run will need food and coin. If you have the Daimyo's purse, you'll be able to gather them from everywhere around the world."
Kazuo rubbed his chin, thoughtful.
"With those resources," Ryusei went on, "you can also get messenger falcons, train them for secret communication between you. That way, no one will ever suspect how closely you're coordinating. And remember, you have time. The war hasn't fully broken out yet. Until I call on you, you can finalize all the details among yourselves. I've only given you rough sketches of the plan. You know the palace and its politics better than me, so you'll know how to fill in the gaps."
Kazuo leaned back, still uneasy but clearly weighing it more seriously now.
"Another thing," Ryusei added, his tone turning sharper. "This has to be done in a semi-secret way. You can't humiliate the Daimyo or his family outright. Push him too far, and he might not even wait for Konoha's help after the war; he could do something reckless, maybe even suicidal. And no matter what, you must keep the court and government running smoothly on the surface and money flowing in. If anything gets disrupted, if the agencies stop functioning as usual, Konoha would have no reason to wait until later. They'd act immediately against you."
Kazuo heard all this and had gone quiet for a while in contemplation, but then his brow furrowed as if something had surfaced in his mind. He leaned forward, his voice low.
"Wait… did I hear you right before? Did your father truly find and leave you some evidence of the village's actions back then? Why didn't he use it himself then?"
Ryusei didn't even flinch. "Yes. That is my first greatest 'external' chip. But right now, it's incomplete. Those fragments he gathered all point in the right direction, but they don't yet form a case strong enough to shake Konoha. At best, they raise suspicions. For them to become a weapon, I'll need time. Time to dig deeper, to use those clues and build something that can't be denied. Only then will it be potent enough to 'convince' the right people, or try and crush them if they refuse."
"As for why he never used it himself, that's simple: he got hold of it too late. By then, he had no one left he could trust, and before he could act, he was assassinated. He only managed to pass it on to my mother, and she kept it hidden until my sixth birthday. That was the only time she showed it to me, after finding the courage and clarity to do so, just before she passed away. And like I said, it's not complete. Maybe he intended to dig deeper, to gather more proof, but he was killed before he had the chance."
Kazuo absorbed every word, and for the first time since the discussion began, his suspicion faded. The boy wasn't boasting.
He was speaking like someone already several steps ahead.
Something in Kazuo's chest tightened. If this failed, he wanted Ryusei close regardless. Someone like this could not be left adrift.
"I see," Kazuo muttered. He paused, then asked with genuine hesitation, "I will try to convince the other five. But if we are to trust you… How do we contact you again? What if I need to reach you after this?"
Ryusei smirked faintly, shaking his head. "You won't. Not for a while. Once the war starts, I'll finally have the freedom to move, to maneuver without being watched every second. Until then, any contact between us would risk everything. The only way forward is if you build a proper network yourselves, establish safe points in towns along the Land of Fire's borders. The kind of places where information flows freely, and ANBU eyes are thin. Then, when I'm deployed somewhere close to one of those places, when the war starts, I'll know where and how to find your people first. Only after I reach out will you reach back. Otherwise, silence."
Kazuo's eyes narrowed, but then softened. He gave a slow nod. "Fine. Then you should know which towns are most suitable…"
He leaned closer and began listing them, naming a handful of key settlements, the kind of places where a presence could be established more easily, and how to connect to them once there, with Ryusei silently committing all of that information to memory.
Before they could continue, Ryusei suddenly stiffened. His uncle's clones outside were already close to being dispelled, and his Anbu team would have been undoubtedly rushing toward here after. He rose quickly, urgency in his voice.
"Enough. Time's almost up." Then his tone sharpened in a way that made Kazuo blink.
"Before I go, there's one more thing you must do."
Kazuo frowned. "What now?"
"You need to injure me. Badly," Ryusei said flatly. "Not life-threatening, but serious. Deep cuts, cracked ribs, something that will look real enough. I can handle the healing later, I'm a medical-nin. But without visible damage, my story to the others won't hold. I need a reason why the enemy's main body singled me out. Why fight for so long without dying? If I walk back without a scratch, my team won't believe it for a second. And suspicion is death."
Kazuo stared at him, shocked by the cold calculation. "…You're serious."
"More serious than ever. If they think I'm lying about what happened, they'll dig. If they dig, they'll find pieces of the truth. If they find the truth, I'm finished. This way, they'll only see what I want them to see, a battered genin who barely survived by luck and skill."
For a moment, uncle and nephew locked eyes in silence. Then Kazuo let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "You're frightening, boy… frightening and impressive."
He stepped forward, clenched his fist, and with carefully measured precision, struck Ryusei hard in the ribs.
Ryusei grunted, staggering, then steadied himself with clenched teeth.
A shallow slash followed, cutting across his shoulder to look convincingly lethal without being so.
Ryusei pressed his palm against it, slowing the bleeding with practiced chakra control.
"That's enough," he muttered, his voice tight but steady.
Kazuo gave him one last look, the kind only blood family could share, something caught between pride, regret, and grim acceptance.
"Until next time, nephew."
Ryusei straightened despite the pain, his narrowed eyes fixed calmly on him.
"Until next time, uncle. Remember, everything we spoke about today stays between us. If you falter, we both die."
With that, they parted, each retreating into the shadows of their respective roles, uncle and nephew bound together not by warmth, but by necessity and blood.
Ryusei watched his uncle's silhouette dissolve into the treeline. A slow, thin smile touched his lips.
'Alright. Narrative control.'
'He targeted me first because I ruined his ambush - clean motive. He needed the loudest alarm bell silenced before he separated the rest of the team. After splitting into two clones, his main body dropped from standard jōnin to low jōnin in a pinch due to chakra severance.'
'Conveniently, his true body never reappeared after the opening strike. Kanae's Byakugan can't grade power to that resolution; only true sensory types can. So calling him standard jōnin lands close enough to the high-jōnin reality to pass any sniff test.'
He flexed a rib and winced on purpose, memorizing the pain so it would read naturally.
'No ninjutsu traces? Even better. I'll say I choked down my chakra output on purpose, sensory masking, so he chose to conserve his own and finish me with taijutsu. Then I "traded injury for injury," forced him to disengage because that's when he also sensed his two clones popping one after another.'
A breath, slow and even. He let blood bead along the shoulder cut, then stemmed it with the barest thread of medical chakra, visible, not fatal.
'After that, I played dead. He took the hint and ran away as if not expecting his clones to last so little. He didn't finish me because I looked finished. And I survived because I had Yang Palm to stabilize vitals and buy time. Later, I patch myself up with ordinary medical ninjutsu. Elegant. Boring. Believable.'
He glanced back toward the wagon ring, already picturing faces.
'Okabe will file it under "reckless but lucky." Renjiro will puff up and swear he almost had the clone. Kanae will say nothing and watch my pulse rate. Let her.'
A faint chuckle escaped him.
'Good, at least the merchant acted suspicious enough previously. With that much raw gold, it's perfectly believable a jōnin would target him (not that he came for me on purpose). As for how the jōnin knew the route, the merchant could never have mentioned the Daimyō; this was a bribe after all. He wouldn't risk tying anything back to the palace, including those six Senju. The obvious conclusion will be: the merchant's side leaked somewhere, somehow.;
He straightened, tested his gait, and set his expression to "strained but steady."
'Worst case, I graduate from "low chūnin" to "high chūnin" in their heads because I lasted against a low-jōnin. Tragic. The enemies who matter already updated that file last month, if they didn't even long before then, so I may as well stop pretending and use what I have.'
He rolled his shoulders, smoothed his breathing into a ragged cadence, and let the smile fade to a tight line.
'Cover established. Alibi anchored. Sympathy guaranteed. Now let's go and sell it to them.'