Danzo resumed his duties, and for the Uchiha clan, that was nothing short of a disaster. Of course, for the foreign spies lurking in Konoha, he was an even greater threat—for now.
When it came to the Uchiha, Danzo operated in shadows, always watching, always pressing from the edges, waiting for an excuse to tighten the noose. He wouldn't act openly—not yet. Instead, he would let their brightest talents face "accidents" in the field, orchestrating their slow decline from behind the scenes.
But against spies from foreign villages? That was different. Danzo didn't just eliminate them—he erased them. Root's methods were brutal, surgical, and utterly devoid of mercy. Konoha wasn't simply "cleaning house"—this was a purge.
Unlike before, however, Danzo was careful. He didn't touch a single ninja from the established clans. It was one thing to be feared, another to be reckless. Root's brutality had to remain a whisper, not a spectacle. After all, a mad dog still needed its leash.
As for the Uchiha? Their time would come. First, Danzo had other prey to cull.
"When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back."
---
Koharu Utatane had always believed herself to be above the petty politics of the younger generation. As one of the Third Hokage's closest advisors, she carried herself with the authority of experience, her hand guiding Konoha's future.
Yet today, all she wanted was to buy dango.
She had just turned from the market stall when the attack came.
A blur of movement. The gleam of kunai. The whisper of detonating tags catching the wind.
She barely had time to react before Anbu closed in, engaging the masked attackers in a desperate clash. She wasn't prepared for this—not here, not in the heart of Konoha.
She stumbled into the panicked crowd, seeking cover as shuriken rained down. A pair of Anbu operatives intercepted the assassins, but the enemy was relentless. A volley of explosive tags was hurled indiscriminately—toward her, toward the civilians, toward the market itself.
A deafening explosion ripped through the air.
When the dust settled, bodies littered the ground. Blood soaked the dirt roads.
And Koharu Utatane was gone—spirited away by a Root agent, leaving the carnage behind.
Another masked figure appeared beside the first Root ninja. They looked at the injured and the dead, then turned away, vanishing into the shadows.
The Uchiha patrol arrived mere seconds later, their crimson eyes taking in the devastation.
By the time Uchiha Yo arrived, it was too late. The bodies had already begun to cool.
His breath caught as he scanned the wreckage—until he saw a familiar figure, kneeling amidst the dead.
Kirito Uchiha.
Trembling hands held what was left of a corpse—unrecognizable save for the small, delicate fingers, now limp and lifeless.
Yo's steps faltered. He didn't want to go closer. He was afraid of what he would see.
The murmurs of the crowd buzzed in his ears. Wailing parents, grieving families, the horrified whispers of bystanders.
Then, a single thought cut through the noise.
No. No, this isn't real. It can't be.
His vision blurred. His fingers curled into fists.
A searing pain shot through his temples as his Sharingan spun, the tomoe twisting, warping—until the three tomoe locked into place.
Even with his newfound clarity, he couldn't see a future without his sister.
He staggered forward.
And all he could see was her ruined, bloodied face.
Hate boiled in his chest. He wanted vengeance.
Everyone involved—everyone responsible—would pay.
---
The Fallout
The attack left Konoha in mourning.
Forty-seven dead. One hundred and twenty-one wounded.
Among the casualties, seventeen children—simply eating dango when the attack began.
The public outcry was deafening. In response, Hiruzen Sarutobi made a decisive order: Konoha would not tolerate spies. Every last one would be rooted out.
Danzo took this as permission to go even further.
The Uchiha suffered three losses—two children, and a woman who had shielded them with her body. But when the detonating tags came, she couldn't stop them all.
The clan was livid.
Not just because of the deaths, but because of the circumstances.
The official story painted Koharu as an unfortunate victim, a loyal elder caught in a tragic attack.
But the Uchiha knew better.
They had seen the scene firsthand.
They had heard the whispers from witnesses.
An elder of Konoha, trained in combat, had abandoned civilians—had used them as cover while she fled.
And the village expected them to simply accept it?
No amount of whitewashing could change what happened.
Koharu resigned from her position in disgrace. But that wasn't enough.
For the Uchiha, this was just another betrayal.
---
Grief and Resolve
At the Uchiha cemetery, Yo stood before his sister's grave, silent.
Uchiha Retsu placed a hand on his shoulder. "She was always so full of life. She wouldn't want to see you like this."
Yo didn't react.
Yan Uchiha sighed, shaking his head. What kind of terrible way to comfort someone is that?
Yo traced the engraved name on the tombstone, then bent down, pressing a kiss to the cold stone.
Straightening, he turned to his teammates.
"Tomorrow. Training ground. I have something to say."
Retsu and Yan exchanged looks but nodded. Without another word, they left him to grieve.
At home, only his father was waiting.
"Where's Mother?" Yo asked.
His father hesitated. "…At your aunt's. She hasn't come home since."
Yo clenched his jaw. He understood. His mother couldn't bear to be here. Not now. Not yet.
His father sighed. "Everyone is just worried about your uncle. Afraid he'll do something reckless."
"Something reckless?"
Yo's eyes snapped open, his Sharingan burning.
"You mean like cutting that old witch down? If that's what he's doing, tell him to save a blade for me."
His father stiffened. "Yo, enough—"
"Enough?" His voice was sharp. "You're telling me to hold back? After everything?"
His father exhaled. "This wasn't done by Konoha—"
Yo's blood boiled.
"Oh, I get it now." His voice was ice. "That's why Mother left. Because you—" he spat the word, "—are making excuses for them."
His father's face darkened. "Watch your tone."
You turned away. "I'm going to get Mother."
His father called after him, but he didn't stop.
As he walked, he grabbed a flask of sake off the table.
"Drinking dulls the mind," he muttered. "And yours is already too soft."