Chapter 260 – Disappointment
"Itachi, what kind of person is your teacher?"
Uchiha Mikoto had just given birth.
Both she and the newborn, little Sasuke, needed rest.
So naturally, Itachi was "escorted" out by his father — more like driven out, really — since the boy couldn't stop hovering over his baby brother.
Once outside, Itachi went to train with Shisui, as he often did.
But today, his focus was completely off.
Shisui tried a few drills, then sighed and switched tactics.
"Hey, Itachi," he said casually, "what kind of man is your teacher, really?"
He had always been curious.
The name Uchiha Kei carried a strange duality within the clan — revered by many, feared by others.
He'd heard the stories:
A hero of the last war.
The man who accomplished an impossible mission.
Someone who'd returned to Konoha and, in less than a year, risen from an ordinary clansman to the second most powerful figure in the entire Uchiha clan.
That kind of ascent was terrifying. Even Shisui, who didn't care much for politics, understood what it meant to control the Police Force — the true center of the clan's authority.
Out of curiosity, he'd once asked the Third Elder about Kei.
The response had been... telling.
Fear.
Resentment.
Whenever Kei's name was mentioned, even the elders' eyes flickered with a mix of anger and unease.
Yet the rest of the clan adored him.
At the Academy, Kei's name was spoken with pride — as if he were proof that the Uchiha still stood strong.
Even civilians who once hated the Police Force now viewed them differently because of him.
It fascinated Shisui.
A man hated by the elders but loved by the people — how could both be true?
What kind of power inspired fear in one group and admiration in another?
He hadn't been able to find an answer. So now, he turned to the one person who might know: Itachi, Kei's only known student.
"Your teacher, huh…" Itachi murmured, eyes unfocused.
But when he said the word "teacher," his gaze sharpened.
"Sensei hasn't acknowledged me yet," he admitted quietly. "But he's… someone strong. Someone with vision."
His tone dimmed halfway through.
He was still happy about his baby brother, but thinking about Kei's last words to him brought that old sting back.
Even his father had agreed with Kei — and that hurt more than he wanted to admit.
Kei had told him that talent alone meant nothing.
It was perspective that determined how far a shinobi could go.
"He said my vision is too narrow," Itachi added softly. "If I can't break free from my own limitations, he'll never acknowledge me."
Shisui frowned.
"Too narrow…? You're a prodigy, Itachi! What's that supposed to mean?"
Itachi sighed.
"He said every Uchiha child is called a prodigy. Power isn't what sets us apart — it's how far we can see."
That left Shisui silent for a long while.
He was only eight, after all. "Breaking through one's own limitations" sounded like something out of a monk's sermon.
Still, he could tell one thing:
Itachi respected Kei — deeply.
Even more than he respected his father, or the elders, or anyone else in the clan.
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the village—
Kei followed Kenta Imai through one of Konoha's older districts.
"You live here?"
The area wasn't exactly remote, but it wasn't glamorous either.
Plenty of shinobi passed through, nodding politely to Kei as they went. None of them showed hostility — just curiosity at seeing him there.
Kenta smiled faintly.
"Surprised?"
"A little," Kei admitted, glancing around. "You've hidden yourselves well. Maybe no one noticed because there's no malice here… or maybe because it's everywhere, and no one can tell the difference anymore."
Kenta chuckled dryly and ruffled a passing child's hair.
"Let's talk about something else. The Mission Department — are you sure that's the right fit for us?"
He lowered his voice.
The Mission Department wasn't as glorious as it sounded.
For the Senju, a clan built on combat, it felt like a demotion — more clerical than martial.
Infiltrating it might mean surrendering what little military power they still had.
"It's the most suitable place for you," Kei said flatly. "Anything else would be wishful thinking."
Kenta frowned.
"You know I'd rather join the ANBU."
"Of course I do," Kei replied smoothly. "But that's not happening. The ANBU seats were divided between the Uchiha and the Fourth Hokage's personal selections. There are other clans Minato wants to bring in — and your Senju aren't on that list."
Kenta's lips tightened. He didn't need to be told twice.
It was the truth — cruel, but true.
The Senju no longer had powerful shinobi to show, nor had they publicly pledged loyalty to Minato.
Without influence or leverage, they had no entry point into the ANBU.
"So the ANBU's out," Kenta sighed. "Then what about the Administration Department? Surely there'll be openings there."
Kei chuckled.
"You haven't even secured a seat in the Mission Department and you're already thinking about administration?"
He shook his head, amused.
"Those positions will go to the clans closest to the Hokage. Even we Uchiha aren't fighting for them — and trust me, that says a lot."
Kenta rubbed the back of his neck helplessly.
"Figures. So you're telling me the Uchiha will end up running the entire village security — first, second, third, now a fourth division of the Police Force? Ambitious, aren't you?"
Kei's smile deepened, eyes gleaming with playful menace.
"Am I that transparent? Maybe. But ambition is what drives people forward, Kenta. You came to me because you have your own — don't mock me for mine."
Kenta couldn't argue with that.
At least this Uchiha wasn't pretending otherwise.
They finally stopped before an old wooden house — simple, but meticulously maintained.
Traditional ornaments, aged carvings, and faint Senju crests woven into the patternwork.
A nostalgic kind of house — belonging to a man who still clung to the past.
A man like that, Kei thought, is usually the one who can't tell the difference between memory and obsession.
Inside, Senju Shōma sat in silence, reading a weathered book —
one written by Senju Tobirama himself.
His favorite, without question.
The pages discussed the structure of power within Konoha:
the Administration Department, the Mission Department, and the Medical Corps —
three pillars that sustained the entire village.
And then there was the fourth — a creation of Tobirama's own making:
the Police Force.
A system designed not to empower, but to contain.
For decades, it had done exactly that —
until Uchiha Kei changed everything.
To Shōma, Tobirama's principles were sacred, and yet... the very people who inherited them — the Sarutobi and their council — had perverted those ideals.
They'd turned the Senju into relics, stripped of their influence, just as they'd weaponized Tobirama's creation to marginalize the Uchiha.
He hated them for it.
He hated the Uchiha for it.
He hated everyone.
And yet… both sides had produced anomalies.
From the Sarutobi's line came Minato Namikaze, a man who defied control.
From the Uchiha came Fugaku — and through him, Kei.
Men who could reshape the future.
But when Shōma learned that his carefully groomed heir, Kenta, had chosen to cooperate with the Uchiha…
that rage returned.
Cooperating with the very clan Tobirama had warned against?
Unthinkable.
Unforgivable.
The knock on his door came sharply — tok, tok, tok.
"Come in," he said coolly, putting away his book.
The door slid open.
Kenta stepped in first. Behind him… Uchiha Kei.
Shōma's eyes went cold.
"Well, well," he said icily. "The great Commander of the Police Force, here in my humble home. I'm honored — though I can't say I'm pleasantly surprised."
"Spare me the false courtesy," Kei replied evenly, stepping forward.
"You already know why I'm here… don't you, Senju Shōma?"
Senju Shōma's brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing as they flicked toward Kenta Imai.
So, Uchiha Kei knew his real name, huh?
That could only mean one thing—this brat had told him.
Had Kenta truly forgotten which clan's blood ran in his veins?
Forgotten what it meant to be a Senju?
And what was Kei's purpose in coming here?
To hold him accountable? To threaten him?
Shōma wasn't sure what the situation outside was like anymore, but if the Commander of the Police Force himself had come knocking, it could only mean one thing—
his subordinates were nearby, surrounding the place.
"Uchiha Kei," Shōma said coldly, a faint sneer tugging at his lips. "Do you even know what you're doing right now?"
"Of course I do." Kei smiled faintly. "I came here to talk — properly."
He saw right through the old man's suspicions and spread his hands casually.
"Relax. It's just me and Kenta this time. No hidden forces. No troops at your doorstep."
Shōma gave a harsh, mirthless laugh.
"How generous of you. Do the Uchiha really think so little of us that they only send one man to 'negotiate'?"
Kei's smile sharpened.
"Or perhaps," he countered softly, "you think a little too highly of yourself. Or maybe…"
His crimson eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"…you're underestimating me."
Just a few exchanges were enough for Kei to piece together the man before him.
Between Kenta's previous accounts and what he saw now, he already understood Shōma's mind — the bitterness, the arrogance, the delusion.
It was almost amusing.
More importantly, it confirmed something Kei had been hoping for:
Shōma saw him as Fugaku's representative, a negotiator acting on behalf of the Uchiha clan's head.
That misunderstanding suited Kei perfectly.
The more people who thought that way, the easier it was for him to maneuver in the shadows.
But Shōma's attitude — that ancient pride still clinging to his voice — that, Kei couldn't stand.
The Senju Clan had fallen long ago.
Their influence, their legacy, their power — all gone.
Even if someone handed them a chance to rise again, could they truly seize it?
Kei doubted it.
"You seem to have forgotten something," he said, voice calm but laced with disdain.
"You may still bear the Senju name, but you're no longer the Senju of old. Otherwise, Kenta wouldn't be hiding behind another surname."
He leaned back into the chair opposite Shōma, his posture relaxed but his words cutting like a blade.
"The Uchiha, however… are still the Uchiha.
Even if we've changed, even if we're not what we once were — our name and our authority still command respect."
Shōma's expression stayed eerily calm, but the shadow in his eyes deepened.
The air between them grew cold and heavy.
"Watch your tone, boy," he said quietly, though his knuckles whitened as he clenched his fist.
Kei didn't flinch.
"Facts don't change just because you dislike them," he replied evenly.
"We were handed an opportunity — and we took it.
We fought for it, adapted, paid the price.
But you…"
He tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting.
"…what have you done?"
The old man said nothing, his silence more damning than any denial.
Kei smiled thinly, almost pitying.
"You spurned the olive branch we offered.
Tried to profit from both sides.
And in the end?"
He stood slowly, his presence filling the small wooden room with quiet dominance.
"You've done nothing but disappoint me."