A one-eyed Cloud ninja locked eyes with a pair of spinning, blood-red two-tomoe Sharingan.
Under the moonlight those tomoe swirled like a demon's disco ball, half-illuminating Makoto Uchiha's face. Kid still had baby fat on his cheeks, but the sheer murder in his stare? Didn't match the packaging at all—like a baby tiger that's already figured out how sharp its claws are.
The Cloud guy barely turned his head halfway when Makoto's custom kunai shot forward, no hesitation, whistling straight for the carotid.
Shluck—
The blade sank in like it was cutting tofu. Blood jetted up the grooves of the kunai the exact same instant Makoto triggered Flying Thunder God again.
Miles away, deep in some random-ass forest, another sealed kunai buried in the shadows started vibrating. The succubus mark on the handle flashed open like a bloody eye.
Whoosh. Three figures and one blood-soaked kunai vanished from the Hyuga compound outskirts faster than a Snapchat streak. The blood didn't even have time to hit the ground.
The night breeze kept blowing under the old banyan tree, spinning a couple dead leaves. The faint iron smell got carried off into the dark like nothing ever happened.
Poof, poof, poof—
Five shadow clones around the Hyuga compound popped into smoke at the exact same second. Wind scattered the evidence. Clean.
…
Random deserted grove, moonlight dripping through the leaves like broken streetlights.
Makoto, the dying Cloud ninja, and a knocked-out Hinata popped in right next to the marker kunai.
The Cloud ninja's head lolled like a broken Pez dispenser, one eye bugged out, gurgling through the hole in his throat. Blood was hosing out like a busted keg.
Makoto didn't even glance at the guy's last words. He just wrapped his arms around the dude's waist, used the body's own weight, and SLAMMED him with a textbook Uchiha suplex.
BAM!
Dude ate dirt so hard his skull bounced off a rock. Pebbles jumped. Hinata, still dangling from the guy's grip, face-planted right into a dirt clod. The knock-out drug was already wearing off; her eyelashes had started fluttering, but that impact gave her an instant cartoon lump.
She whimpered once, tiny eyebrows scrunched, then passed right back out like a baby with a concussion.
Makoto wrinkled his nose at the blood stink but didn't flinch. Dude grew up with Fugaku "War Criminal" Uchiha as a dad; this was Tuesday.
Fugaku took four-year-old Itachi to the Third War for "field trips." Makoto, being the golden child, got the deluxe trauma package.
Poof. Two more shadow clones popped out and started scrubbing the crime scene like it's a TikTok clean-up challenge.
Makoto looked down at the twitching Cloud ninja and smirked.
Jackpot. Now… who do I hand this live grenade to so it blows up the prettiest?
He'd already run the scenarios. Ideally? Drop it on the Sarutobi clan or Danzo's Root. But those old bastards control the narrative; they'd just scapegoat some poor genin and bury the story.
Nah. He needed someone who'd actually catch heat.
His eyes drifted toward the Hyuga compound, glinting.
The Hyuga main-branch Grand Elder. That sanctimonious fossil's cut from the same hypocritical cloth as the Uchiha's own third elder—talks a big game about "sacrifice for the clan" but would sell his own mother the second the knife touched his throat.
Perfect.
Let the Hyuga and Konoha's top brass rip each other apart for a while. Keeps their eyes off the Uchiha's back. Buys him time to bounce out of the village without coming home to a genocide.
Win-win. Actually, double-win—he wins twice.
Only problem: sneaking a dying Cloud diplomat and the Hyuga heiress into the main house, past Byakugan security? That's dancing on razor blades in flip-flops.
Gotta phone a friend.
Makoto closed his eyes, pinged the oldest Flying Thunder God seal he ever planted—on Itachi's favorite kunai.
Bingo. Big bro's currently chilling at Shisui's place. (There's another seal five feet from Shisui's porch. Lazy teleport ftw.)
Carrying two bodies long-distance would suck his chakra dry, and chakra zero = plot-armor-proof death. Kakashi learned that one the hard way.
Makoto grabbed the Cloud ninja and Hinata, locked onto the seal near Shisui's house—flash. Gone.
The cleanup clones looked at each other, shrugged, and poofed away. Forest went dead quiet again. Just wind and lies.
…
Shisui's backyard, couple minutes later.
Itachi and Shisui were on the porch, foreheads creased, trying to figure out how to keep the village from curb-stomping the clan.
"Man, we finally had that perfect plan—push Orochimaru as Fifth Hokage—and it died in, what, twelve hours?" Shisui groaned.
Itachi opened his mouth to reply when—footsteps. Casual, but deliberate.
Shisui's hand dropped to his kunai. Itachi just smirked; he knew that gait.
Gate creaked open.
Makoto's shadow clone leaned in the doorway, scanned the place like a bouncer, then jerked his head.
"Follow me. Now."
He spun and bolted into the shadows.
Itachi and Shisui exchanged one look—no questions—and tailed him.
Two steps in, Itachi's face went dark. He smelled blood.
Moments later, moonlight hit Makoto's real body: two-tomoe still spinning, sleeves soaked crimson, and at his feet? One half-dead Cloud delegation leader and one unconscious Hyuga princess.
Itachi and Shisui's pupils shrank to pinpricks. Cold sweat rolled.
They'd seen that Cloud guy this morning. Hell, every ninja in the village had. This dude was the face of the peace treaty.
This wasn't "big trouble." This was "restart-the-war-and-nuke-the-village" trouble.
Itachi's brain went into overdrive. His eyes flicked to the blood on Makoto's cuffs, then he exhaled, stepped forward, and grabbed his little brother's shoulder.
"Makoto, go home. Right now. I'll handle this."
Dude was sweating bullets, voice actually shaking—Mr. Perfect never panics.
Makoto just looked at him, calm as hell.
"Nah. I figured out how to fix the village-clan beef."
Shisui's head snapped up. "How?"
"Redirect the hate. New target."
Itachi stared at the dying Cloud ninja and connected the dots instantly. His lips pressed into a hard line.
Shisui leaned in. "Details?"
"Dump this corpse in the Hyuga main-branch Grand Elder's bedroom. Let Konoha's brass lose their minds over the Hyuga for a change. Suddenly nobody's got time to watch us Uchiha."
"It won't solve everything forever, but it buys us months—maybe years—to figure out the rest."
Shisui's eyes lit up for half a second, then he frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.
"But… the Hyuga are still part of the village…"
"NO." Makoto cut him off, glaring like Shisui just said pineapple belongs on pizza.
"The Hyuga already spat on the Will of Fire."
He took a breath, voice dropping into pure venom.
"Today—the same damn day Cloud signs a peace treaty with us—the Hyuga throw a giant birthday party for Hinata and invite every clan head plus the Cloud delegation. Telling the entire village leadership: 'Our family tea party > world peace.'"
He spread his arms like he was preaching.
"Name one other clan that pulled that level of elitist bullshit on treaty day. Go ahead. I'll wait."