The clan gathering ended with nothing resolved—only a mess left behind.
Once Uchiha Jhin and the radicals walked out, Fugaku had no face left to stay. After tossing out a few vague words to smooth things over, he declared the meeting adjourned and left as well.
Shisui watched Fugaku's retreat with disappointment filling his eyes.
Even with the Hokage's support… could Fugaku really suppress Uchiha Jhin?
But when he remembered what Jhin had said before leaving, Shisui drew a deep breath and spoke with sudden seriousness.
"Clan Head, I'm going to see the Hokage."
"About the Mangekyō Sharingan in Danzō's possession—I need to ask exactly what's going on."
He didn't even wait for Fugaku to answer.
He used the Body Flicker and vanished.
Fugaku's face darkened.
Jhin had already left him seething, and now even Shisui's "respect" felt perfunctory at best. A nameless anger boiled in his chest with nowhere to go.
Still, he forced it down. With a cold snort, he returned home.
Not long after—
An Uchiha entered, dropped to one knee, and spoke in a rush. "Clan Head—bad news!"
"The radicals—shinobi and civilians alike—have all relocated to the area around Uchiha Jhin's home. That whole district has been re-fortified with defensive barriers. Patrol squads have been reorganized, and there are countless hidden sentries inside."
He was sweating as he spoke.
And it made sense.
What the radicals had done was practically create a country within a country.
The Uchiha had factions—sure. They argued endlessly. No one could truly force the others to submit.
But on the surface, they still maintained unity because everyone understood a simple truth:
If they fractured openly, Konoha wouldn't even need to lift a finger. The Uchiha would collapse on their own.
And now?
Uchiha Jhin had shattered that rule.
Crash!
Fugaku had just lifted his teacup. Hearing this, he went blank—then slammed the cup to the floor.
"You bastard—damn you!"
"What does Uchiha Jhin think he's doing? Is he trying to split the Uchiha by force?!"
His face twisted, killing intent flickering in his eyes.
He couldn't accept it.
For years, Fugaku had held the clan together by sheer caution—walking on a blade's edge, terrified that one misstep would make him the man who destroyed the Uchiha.
And now that damned boy didn't even try to understand him.
Disrupting things was one matter. Being troublesome, even dangerous—Fugaku had endured that.
But splitting the clan?
Unforgivable.
The Uchiha, on one knee, kept his head lowered and offered no rebuttal.
Yet his eyes flickered with something close to confusion.
He'd heard every word Jhin spoke at the gathering.
And when he looked back over Fugaku's time as Clan Head… something felt wrong.
Fugaku had a fearsome name on the battlefield, yes.
But inside the village—when facing Konoha's upper ranks—he'd always been too timid.
It was a feeling he'd never allowed himself to name before.
Although once it was said out loud, he couldn't unsee it.
His thoughts drifted to the night that mattered most—the Nine-Tails incident.
That night, the Uchiha had been prepared to move to rescue the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze.
But they were blocked by Danzō.
He remembered it clearly: back then, when Jhin was still nobody, he'd suggested ignoring Danzō's so-called "Third Hokage's order."
Because the Hokage in office at the time was the Fourth—Minato.
But Fugaku had refused.
No one had thought much of it then.
And in the end?
Minato died that night. The Uchiha became a target of suspicion. They were even forced to relocate from their ancestral grounds.
Sometimes he wondered—
If they'd listened to Jhin back then… if they'd rescued Minato…
Would the Uchiha's situation today be even a little better?
But there were no "ifs."
After that night, Jhin faded back into the clan's background—until he awakened the Mangekyō and joined the radicals… until, just days ago, he became their leader.
Now the kneeling man understood, at least partly, why Jhin had never thrown in with Fugaku.
In some ways, Fugaku was too indecisive.
So what now?
Uchiha Inabi's eyes were full of uncertainty.
He could sense Fugaku's weakness—yet Jhin's extremism was terrifying.
He couldn't choose.
With a helpless sigh, he decided to wait and see.
"Inabi." Fugaku's voice snapped him back.
"Yes!" Inabi answered immediately.
A spark of hope flashed in his eyes.
Was Fugaku finally going to act?
Even if some of what Jhin said felt painfully true, Inabi couldn't accept this open split within the Uchiha.
If Fugaku gave the word, he would support him.
War with the radicals?
So be it.
Uchiha weren't afraid of bloodshed.
But—
Inabi's hopeful gaze met Fugaku's hesitation again.
"No. Forget it."
"The Uchiha can't endure turmoil anymore," Fugaku said, voice tight. "Uchiha Jhin… we'll deal with him later."
"Leave."
"And about the radicals—pretend we know nothing."
Inabi's eyes dulled with disappointment.
His Clan Head was too indecisive. There was nothing left to say.
All he could do was bow and leave.
…
Within the Uchiha District, voices rose everywhere.
Some insisted the village's change in attitude was all thanks to Clan Head Fugaku.
Others argued it was Uchiha Jhin's doing.
Arguments broke out again and again, cutting through the clan like cracks in stone.
Only a few truly clear-headed people could see what it meant—and their dissatisfaction with Fugaku only deepened.
If a man couldn't even suppress dissent inside his own clan… what right did he have to be Clan Head?
Before the argument could reach any conclusion, another shock hit:
The radicals had formed a separate power base, building a "village within the village," a "clan within the clan."
And Jhin's words from the gathering spread everywhere:
Konoha's "concession" was forced by Jhin.
Retaliation would come.
Thinking of the Uchiha who had vanished recently, some sneered at the warning.
Others believed it—and began moving into the radicals' new territory.
The radicals didn't reject anyone.
In the end, they were all Uchiha.
…
Radical territory—Uchiha Jhin's home.
Late night.
Jhin sat cross-legged on his bed, Mangekyō shimmering as he maintained his dōjutsu at the lowest possible level.
Ame-no-Tokotachi.
He'd discovered a clever use for it accidentally: if he kept the technique running at minimum output, then for every one unit of ocular power he spent, he could slowly recover two.
The speed was painfully slow—nothing like the ease of an Eternal Mangekyō.
But for someone with no system, no cheat, and no access to weakened Hashirama Cells…
It was still good news.