The Third Hokage might have always appeared to be the symbol of gentleness, and the two advisors seemed to be nothing more than mediators—but in truth, their roles in the Uchiha massacre were no less disgraceful than Danzo's brutal hardline stance. All three of them were equally unworthy, equally tainted.
And this "Night of the Massacre" had clearly diverged from the script Naruto remembered from his past life. He couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but the most likely scenario was this: before Itachi could make his move, some clue had slipped. The hardliners within the clan, already itching to rebel, discovered it. With no time to coordinate, some of them erupted into a premature uprising.
That alone would explain the massive disturbance last night.
And only some of them rebelling would explain why it had been so swiftly crushed.
If it had truly been a full-scale revolt of the entire clan?
Even if Konoha had won, it would never have been so easy.
The Uchiha were the foremost clan in the shinobi world.
How many jonin? How many chunin?
And with the Sharingan—the most feared dōjutsu in existence—the fight would have been far bloodier.
The noise last night had been loud, yes, but compared to what it could have been, it was still almost subdued.
Naruto let the thought circle through his mind twice, then let it go.
He had no time, no reason, no strength to dwell on it.
Not yet.
Not as he was now.
For him, the most important thing was simply to live each day well.
Even after such a night, classes at the Academy continued as usual.
When Naruto arrived, he wasn't surprised to find Sasuke's seat empty.
He could already guess the boy wouldn't be showing up for some time. Not just because of the shock of the massacre, but also because—if Naruto's memory served—last night had been the first time Itachi used Tsukuyomi on him.
That genjutsu, a pinnacle technique even in the original story, was an assault no child could endure. Even if Itachi had restrained its power, the fact remained: Sasuke had not only watched his clan die, he had seen his beloved brother cut down their parents before his eyes—then had his mind shattered by Tsukuyomi.
The trauma from that night would not heal in days, nor even weeks.
Even with the Third Hokage's special care, with the finest medical treatment Konoha could provide, wounds of the mind required more than medicine. They required time.
And so it was a full month before Naruto saw Sasuke return to class.
This time, the boy carried with him a chill. Not the posturing coolness of a proud child, but the genuine, bone-deep cold of one who had already stepped into darkness.
The moment Naruto laid eyes on him, something inside him stirred.
This was no longer the same boy—no longer the smug, aloof brat who masked his childishness with arrogance.
This was someone whose eyes had become that of an avenger, burning with blood and hatred.
That day, even the girls who had always trailed after Sasuke fell uncharacteristically silent.
They might have been infatuated, but they weren't stupid.
To flutter around him, just after his clan had been slaughtered, would have been the height of idiocy.
"…What a pitiful soul."
Watching Sasuke's blank face and vacant eyes, Naruto shook his head softly.
In some ways, he thought, they were alike.
Perhaps… this boy could one day become a vital piece of my plan.
Scenes from the original story flitted across his mind—Sasuke's eventual defection, his reaction upon learning the truth of Itachi and the massacre.
The Uchiha, Naruto mused, were a clan of tragic simplicity.
From the very beginning, it seemed to be their nature.
From Indra, the elder son of the Sage of Six Paths,
to Madara,
to Obito during the Third Great Shinobi War,
and now to Sasuke—
time and again, they had proven themselves painfully easy to manipulate.
Even Itachi and Shisui, who were supposedly the wisest of their generation, had still played their parts as pawns.
To Naruto, "Uchiha" had almost become synonymous with "naïve."
Especially Sasuke.
Throughout the entire original story, he had never once shown true independence.
First deceived by the brother he loved most.
Then by Obito.
Later, even by Orochimaru.
Each time, he had danced to someone else's tune.
And so, in conclusion:
Sasuke was malleable.
More importantly—
Naruto still held a trump card: the true story behind the Uchiha massacre.
Not a guarantee, but enough for him to feel confident.
One day, he could use that truth to turn Sasuke into an ally.
It was only a plan for the future.
When to speak, what to reveal, how to convince him, how to balance the risks—
Naruto knew he would have to consider it carefully.
But the seed of the plan had already been planted.
He would carve out his own path, one that led to a different kind of brilliance than the story he remembered.
"…The future, huh?"
Staring out the window at the bustling village,
Naruto's blue eyes glimmered faintly with a sheen of gold.
What mattered most now was to keep growing stronger.
Only then, in the future,
would he have the right to move the pieces on the great chessboard of the shinobi world.
And so, five years passed in the blink of an eye.