Chapter 86: Shadow War
In the shadows of Konoha, countless figures clad in white haori moved silently through the heavy rain.
Years spent helping the villagers had given the members of the Mutual Aid Association an intimate familiarity with every street, alley, and hidden path in Konoha. Now, that knowledge was being used for war. They struck swiftly from blind spots the clans had never noticed, cutting down patrols and defenses with surgical precision.
By the time the clan ninjas realized the Association had taken the initiative, it was already too late. The Association's forces had cleared from their headquarters to an area close to the Hokage's office, establishing control and severing all external communication.
The families' information networks—their lifelines—were cut off. The hidden allies and outlying support bases each clan relied on had no idea what was unfolding within Konoha's walls. Since learning of Aizen's death, those external forces had obeyed the law, remaining dormant in their assigned territories, unaware of the silent coup brewing in the heart of the village.
This was natural. Not every clan could reside entirely within Konoha. Many stationed their core members in the village while maintaining homes and compounds in more affordable or remote regions. Population limits and housing costs forced even the proudest clans into restraint.
Because of that, most small and midsized families—the most vulnerable—were concentrated inside Konoha. Only the clan leaders and elites lived near the inner districts. The larger clans maintained sprawling compounds of their own—like the Uchiha district, which dominated the heart of Konoha.
Now, the whiteclad members of the Mutual Aid Association, spreading outward from that district, had effortlessly seized control of the smaller clans' territories.
These Uchiha, their red eyes glowing with cold fury, fought at a level rivaling elite Jonin. For them, using the Sharingan was as natural as breathing.
Under the lead of elite Uchiha assault squads, the Mutual Aid Association swept through the night, subduing the smaller clans one after another. Guided by Uchiha intelligence operatives, they divided into three main forces to surround the area where the major families held their meeting—and crushed it in a single, decisive strike.
The plan was simple, even crude, but brutally effective.
At this point, the real fighting strength was in the Mutual Aid Association. Konoha's elite forces had either withdrawn or gone silent after Aizen's death. Jiraiya had been subdued, Tsunade remained in the hospital overseeing Aizen's body, and Orochimaru's whereabouts had already been discovered.
The Hokage's Anbu were deployed to monitor the embassies of the major nations, while most of Danzo's Root operatives were stationed abroad, guarding him. The remaining Roots—those directly involved in Aizen's death—were imprisoned to avoid exposure.
The Hokage himself, too broken and powerless to act, feigned unconsciousness.
Many clan ninjas served as border commanders, or as members of the Anbu and Root outside the village. They had neither the time nor the strength to return. The Uchiha, as Konoha's police force, were the only active defenders within the village.
Thus, Konoha's true power had been hollowed out. Only the Uchiha and a few disorganized family forces remained to contest control.
Among the Three Legendary Sannin, the most unpredictable—Jiraiya—had already fallen to Minato Namikaze. Nearly all of Konoha's highestlevel combatants were neutralized or scattered.
And so, driven by both fury and hope—the hope that Aizen might still live—the Mutual Aid Association struck. Under the storm's shroud, a silent massacre began. The outcome of that night would shape Konoha's future, but no one knew how it would end.
"Good evening, clan leaders and elders."
Amid the rumble of thunder, countless motes of light converged into the shape of a blond man.
Everyone knew that voice. That warm, familiar tone that once calmed chaos. The moment they saw the golden hair, their hearts sank.
He had always been the village's light—a man whose gentle smile could warm even the coldest hearts, a symbol of hope. The minato of Konoha.
But the man before them now… was something else entirely.
Under the drumming rain, Minato Namikaze stood in a pure white haori that resembled a mourning robe. The azure of his eyes had dimmed, tainted with a faint scarlet glow. His face was pale, shadowed by exhaustion and sleeplessness.
He gazed blankly at the bound clan elders before him and bowed slightly.
"I am Minato Namikaze, representative of the Mutual Aid Association. We came here seeking only one thing—an answer, the truth. We never intended to start a civil war in Konoha. Such a conflict would only benefit the other great villages. But there are matters that must be clarified. Did you take action against Brother Aizen?"
"Namikaze Minato, what are you doing?!"
The bound elder stared in disbelief at the young man before him—once as radiant as the sun, now a hollow shell of that warmth.
"Do you even realize how much Hokage-sama values you? We all believed you would become the next Hokage! And now you stand here—siding with them, doing this?!"
"Thank you for your kindness," Minato replied softly. "I'm grateful for the expectations of Lord Third as well. But right now, I don't care about titles or promises. I only want the truth."
His gaze swept over the room of elders—faces torn between shock and resignation. When he spoke again, his tone was calm, almost weary.
"Our demands are simple. Hand over any relics or remnants of Lord Aizen's soul. Then, the family heads and those responsible for his death will face execution or imprisonment. We will not wipe out entire clans, nor will we let hatred blind us—but justice and fairness must be upheld."
"But we have nothing! We did nothing! How can you expect us to hand over what doesn't exist?!"
"Then we will inherit Brother Aizen's will," Minato replied coldly. "All clan secret vaults will be opened. Every forbidden technique and document will be gathered and archived within the Konoha Library—under the name of the Aizen Collection."
"That's impossible!"
Several elders shook their heads violently, faces pale with outrage.
To them, this was worse than annihilation. A destroyed clan could still rise again—so long as bloodlines and chakra remained, its legacy could be reclaimed. But to lose their secret arts entirely… that was to erase their identity.
A clan was more than blood; it was a network of power and tradition built upon shared chakra and heritage. Without their jutsu, they would no longer be shinobi families—just common households.
"We will never surrender our clan's treasures!" one elder barked. "They are the foundation of our existence! Even when Konoha was first founded, such tyranny did not occur! Are you rebelling?!"
"…I don't know about that either," Minato murmured.
"What?!"
The elders stared, stunned by the emptiness in his tone. The Minato they once knew—Konoha's minato—was gone. In his place stood something cold, detached, and uncertain.
Around him, the Uchiha and the whiteclad members of the Mutual Aid Association remained motionless, their expressions devoid of emotion. They had already abandoned the socalled Will of Fire.
No faction in Konoha had ever bypassed the Hokage to conduct such a purge within the village. This was not reform—it was rebellion. And whether they admitted it or not, the Mutual Aid Association had already crossed that line.
Minato let the silence stretch, then gestured for one of his subordinates.
"Captain Minato," the man said, handing him a note. "Please take a look at this."
Minato scanned it briefly.
"…Is Princess Tsunade here?" he asked quietly.
"Wait—what are you talking about?!" an elder shouted.
"I never said I was asking for your opinions," Minato said flatly. He looked up from the paper, eyes hollow, voice calm as the storm outside.
"This isn't a negotiation. It's a statement of fact. We're already carrying it out. We've simply run into… a small problem."
The rain outside grew louder, swallowing the furious cries of the bound clan leaders.
Elsewhere in the village, near a sealed compound, an Uchiha shouted toward a closed gate. His voice was drowned by the storm, so he poured chakra into it, amplifying his words. Just as he prepared to give the order to attack—
A furious voice cut through the rain.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
A pink fist appeared faster than sound.
The moment her voice reached their ears, it was already too late. The Uchiha's body was sent flying by a single devastating punch, crashing through the sheets of rain and slamming into a stone wall with an explosion that shook the ground.
The figure who stepped forward was drenched in rain, her eyes blazing with fury.
The man's face twisted in pain as he tried to rise, only to see her glare at the whiteclad Mutual Aid members.
"You call yourselves shinobi of Konoha?" she shouted, voice trembling with anger. "Breaking into other clans' ancestral homes, attacking your own comrades—are you rebelling?!"
[TL: You can also check out my newly released fanfic, Bleach: Ichigo Takes Over the Soul Society – just visit my profile if you want to read it.]
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