Uchiha Fugaku had long suspected there was something unusual about Kai. After all, Uchiha Kai had once been an ordinary graduate student in his previous life—hardly the background of a shinobi shaped for war.
It had nothing to do with those insidious and cunning political figures from the Western world—just a man thrown into a cruel world. He didn't become this way by choice. The harshness of the shinobi era had forced his evolution.
If Kai had a choice, he would've preferred his past self: simple, quiet, and unassuming. His current self? It was the very type of person he had despised in that former life.
"It's ironic, isn't it?" Kai murmured. "The more you grow, the more you become the person you used to hate."
Such was life in this world: it never changed to fit you—you had to change to fit it.
As Kai and Fugaku walked through the Uchiha district, they quickly drew attention. They were now the two most influential figures in the entire clan.
Their public display of unity caught the eye of many passersby. And yet, despite Fugaku's position as clan head, Kai seemed to garner more warmth from the people. Perhaps it was because he had once been a fringe member—someone from the lower rungs of the clan, familiar with hardship. That history made him more relatable.
Though Kai didn't know every clan member—many of his neighbors were barely acquaintances—they all knew him. Parents even pointed him out to their children as a role model.
Kai acknowledged them with the same polite nod Fugaku offered, and the two continued their path. Still, Kai noticed something unusual: a few unfamiliar faces in the compound.
"It looks like your outreach efforts are paying off," Kai said, glancing around. "These must be comrades of our clansmen?"
"Most likely," Fugaku replied. "Only a few outsiders are brave enough to walk into Uchiha territory, but it's a start. Better than the Hyūga, anyway."
He paused, then added, "Speaking of the Hyūga—your teammate, Aya, seems to have stirred up something."
Kai's expression tightened. "What happened to Hyūga Aya?"
Aya had always been dangerous—secretive, ambitious. Kai had guided her into genetic experimentation, but even he didn't know how far she might have gone. Still, he trusted she wouldn't be foolish enough to expose herself or him.
"About a month ago, a boy named Hyūga Sora entered the medical corps," Fugaku said. "The Security Division took notice. Uchiha Seki happened to be in the hospital gathering supplies for certain...private operations and noticed him."
"Supplies?" Kai raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't worried about being discovered?"
"He's cautious," Fugaku reassured him. "As for Hyūga Sora, I believe he was injured—by Aya. It was some sort of sparring between main and branch house members. She was...not gentle."
Kai frowned. "That sounds like her. She's effective, but I know she has her own motives. Still, she's too valuable. I won't risk myself because of her, but I won't discard her, either."
Fugaku nodded in quiet agreement. Kai was not the kind of man to act recklessly with allies—or enemies. And that made him dangerous, even to those who trusted him.
After chatting for a while longer, the two parted ways.
Despite the turbulence of the day, Kai felt satisfied. He'd made the necessary discoveries. When he returned home, dinner was already prepared. Ryoko had cooked, and little Iori had helped. His father, Keisuke, was already seated, sipping a modest pot of warm sake.
Ever since the Spring Festival, the family atmosphere had been bright. Kai's rise had been meteoric—he had even been appointed head of the Uchiha Police Force, breaking clan tradition in the process.
Keisuke and Ryoko never imagined such a future. To support him, Ryoko had recently decided to resign from the Force—a choice Kai approved after confirming her decision.
In truth, her presence wouldn't have affected his deeper operations. But she had made her choice, and Kai respected that.
That night, the family enjoyed dinner together. It was peaceful.
But when Kai returned to his room, he immediately noticed something wrong.
A folded note sat on his desk.
His eyes narrowed. He scanned the room, activated his Sharingan, and carefully approached the desk. There was no trace of traps—no powder, no seal.
He unfurled the note with a kunai. As he read, he let out a small, exasperated sigh.
It was from Namikaze Minato.
Minato had used one of his Flying Thunder God markers to teleport into Kai's room, leaving the message. He apologized for the intrusion and requested a private meeting between the three of them—Minato, Kai, and Fugaku.
"Looks like he's finally had enough of Hiruzen," Kai muttered to himself, amused.
He remembered planting doubts in Minato's mind months ago—that he might become a puppet of the Third Hokage. At the time, Minato hadn't believed it. In the manga, Minato had shown deep respect toward Hiruzen and consulted him on many decisions, seeing him as a trusted mentor.
But now, things were changing.
Minato had likely begun to realize that his promises to the Uchiha had gone unfulfilled. Despite pledging to address the clan's marginalization, no reforms had been introduced. There were still no Uchiha in key administrative posts. It was telling.
Perhaps the Orochimaru incident had opened his eyes. Or perhaps the rejection of his clan reform proposals had finally made him doubt.
Either way, this meeting would be critical.
Kakashi had recovered. It was time to move the next piece on the board.
Kei burned the note to ash, then walked out of his room.
"Heading out so late?" Ryoko asked, surprised. "Did something happen? I—sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"It's nothing serious," Kai said lightly. "Just remembered something the clan head asked for. I forgot to report back."
"Don't talk like that about Fugaku," Keisuke interjected. "He's been good to us. I know your status is high now, but don't lose your respect."
Then he paused and added, "And son... sometimes it's wise to step back if the burden gets too heavy."
Kai stood still for a moment, then gave a rare smile. "I understand."
Ryoko and Keisuke were stunned. They couldn't remember the last time they had seen their son smile like that.
Only little Iori, too young to understand, sensed something odd—but still liked this home very much.
It felt like a real family.