The Uchiha clan's return journey continued through forests and valleys, banners fluttering proudly in the wind. Their laughter and conversation carried a victorious tone, for not only had Madara Uchiha's clan risen in esteem, but his son Keiji had become a name spoken with both respect and caution across every noble table.
Yet the Keiji marching with them was not the real one.
The one walking alongside Madara, speaking when spoken to, maintaining his calm presence, was the perfected Phantom Shadow Clone. Its chakra could not be tracked. Its presence could not be dispelled. It lived as Keiji, spoke as Keiji, walked as Keiji.
The real Keiji remained in the capital.
He stood atop a quiet rooftop of lacquered tiles, overlooking the grand sprawl of the city below. Lanterns glowed across long streets. District walls separated noble quarters from merchant zones. Guard patrols moved in patterns that repeated every thirty minutes. Servant routes passed unseen behind privacy screens.
Beside him, his shiny Gengar hovered, eyes gleaming.
Keiji exhaled slowly, cloak fluttering behind him.
"So this is where I start."
Gengar nodded once, solemn.
The system's quiet glow shimmered before Keiji.
---
System Store — Specialized Equipment
Tobi Mask
Color: Primarily orange.
Pattern: It featured a distinctive black or dark-colored spiral pattern focused around a single eyehole on the right side of the mask. This design resembled the face of the spiral-patterned White Zetsu clone (nicknamed "Guruguru") that was part of Obito's modified body.
Coverage: It was a half-mask, covering the left side of his face and a significant portion of his head, while leaving his right eye exposed.
Tobi Cloak
High-grade chakra suppression fibers. Resistant to sensory techniques.
Cost: Paid in accumulated system points gained through:
Saving the Hagoromo second heir.
Changing the fate of their clan.
Redirecting clan alliances.
Altering future historical trajectories.
Keiji made the purchase without hesitation.
Light flashed.
The cloak settled over his shoulders like a shadow that remembered silence. The mask rested in his hands: smooth, curved, simple. Yet the spiral pattern seemed to pull the gaze inward.
Gengar examined both items with the careful curiosity of a creature that understood how small objects could alter worlds.
Keiji spoke.
"To move in politics, I cannot move as myself yet. Not openly. Not directly."
He placed the mask aside for the moment.
"First, I need to learn the map that matters more than geography. Influence."
He sat with legs folded, closing his eyes.
"Transformation Jutsu."
His chakra flowed, shaping his body, but he did not become another person. He shifted his aura, his presence, the subtle spiritual signature that every shinobi gave off unconsciously.
Gengar contributed ghostly energy, cold and smoke-light, weaving into Keiji's chakra until the transformation gained something new.
Silence.
Even if a Hyuga looked directly at him, the mind would register nothing special.
Even if a sensor ninja scanned the area, his presence would blend with the environment.
Not invisibility.
Irrelevance.
A ghost among the living.
Keiji opened his eyes.
"Good. Let's go."
---
Exploring the Capital in Disguise
He left the inn district through an alley that most citizens never used.
He crossed a merchant courtyard without drawing a single glance.
He walked past a guard patrol and no alert rose in their eyes.
He explored the noble district first.
Tall stone walls.
Gardens trimmed into perfect shapes.
Servants moving with lowered eyes.
Guards stationed at every second corner.
He memorized how many guards rotated per hour.
Which gates opened for which family crests.
Which areas were watched by sensory formations.
Which nobles spoke to daimyo messengers most often.
Gengar lifted a finger and indicated a cluster of buildings.
Those were the cultural estates.
Poets. Scholars. Spiritual advisors.
Not harmless.
Not neutral.
Influence wrapped itself in soft words and art here.
Next, the Merchant Council zone of land of Fire.
Lavish houses built from timber lacquered in gold and vermilion.
Courtyards with imported silk banners.
Hidden doors disguised behind ornamental panels.
Money moved armies.
Keiji watched who bowed first in conversations.
Gengar drifted behind him, quietly noting
how many guard dogs each compound had.
Some beasts reacted to chakra.
Some to scent.
Some to killing intent.
Keiji had neither scent nor intent now.
So none barked.
He passed through a market corner where children were still playing, chasing each other with festival streamers. A few townsfolk still wore festival paint on their cheeks, smudged and fading. Merchants packed away leftover lanterns and banners.
It would take them another year to forget this festival.
Some would never forget it at all.
Keiji paused when he reached a tall building marked with red lacquer shutters and a phoenix crest.
The Merchant Council of land of Fire headquarters.
He leaned back against a stone pillar, eyes half-lidded.
"If I control trade routes and supply chains, I influence every clan indirectly. No clan grows strong without materials. No daimyō rules without gold. No army marches without grain."
Gengar took notes in the way ghosts did. Quietly. Without words.
Keiji moved again.
He crossed the city center where a grand court building stood.
Here, noble lords made complaints.
Here, economic disputes were judged.
Here, law could be bent if leverage existed.
Keiji narrowed his eyes.
"Once I understand who benefits, I will understand who controls."
He continued walking until the sun began to fall.
He did not return to an inn.
He had already memorized five alternate
shelter points.
Silent rooftops.
Storage lofts.
A temple storeroom
He sat on the roof of a watchtoweroverlooking the daimyō estate.
Gold-trimmed roof tiles.
Central palace hall.
Garden shrines.
Two front gates.
Three hidden gates.
Keiji traced guard rotations with the precision of a mathematician.
This was where the strings of power converged.
Not the daimyō.
His advisor.
The man who spoke quietly into the daimyō's ear.
The man who drafted proposals.
The man who approved clan tax allotments.
The man who handled foreign correspondence.
The man who did not stand on front lines, yet could cripple a clan with ink and one signature.
Keiji found him.
A thin man with long black hair tied behind his head.
A calm smile.
Soft voice.
Eyes that never revealed what they calculated.
Kanzō Tokudaiji.
The daimyō's most trusted administrative hand.
The one who decided how wealth flowed.
The one who decided which clan's future rose or fell.
Keiji watched him through fading evening light.
Gengar floated close, red eyes glinting with understanding.
The festival had celebrated unity.
Yet the battlefield of politics had already begun.
---
Nightfall
Keiji sat cross-legged, mask resting beside him.
Gengar hovered before him, eyes closing.
The breeze quieted.
City lanterns flickered awake.
Voices dimmed to whispers and distant laughter.
Gengar spoke in a low, resonant tone that
Keiji felt more than heard.
"We will begin at night."
Keiji lifted the mask.
Silent purpose.
He placed it upon his face.
His chakra, presence, and aura shifted.
Not louder.
Not darker.
Focused.
Purposeful.
He looked upon the daimyō's palace once more, and saw not a fortress but a map of intentions.
His first target had been chosen.
Kanzō Tokudaiji.
The one who whispered into the throne.
Keiji rose.
The cloak settled around him like a second shadow.
Gengar's grin widened, sharper, knowing.
The city lights dimmed below.
Night spread quietly across the rooftops.
The hunt had begun.
---
End of the Chapter
---